With the faint crowing of the morning rooster, the dark veil of night was torn apart as the dawn’s rosy light softly whispered from the east. The first touch of sunlight saluted the martyrs while the Himalayan peaks smiled, dusted in white. At that moment, greeting the crimson young rays of the sun, grandmother softly proclaimed, “Long live the Republic, Long live the Republic.” Holding a plate and gathering drops of faith in her heart, early in the morning she went to the temple to offer the water of revolution, praying and worshipping the deities and remembering the martyrs. As the temple bells tolled, symbolizing the toll of faith, grandmother echoed in unison, “Long live the Republic, Long live the Republic.”
Breaking down the forts of tyranny and piercing through the barbed wires of conspiracy, uprooting the deep-rooted ideas that had become rotten, the exposure of the misdeeds of feudalism continues unabated. “To bring an era, my sisters, brothers, and comrades, raising the banner of new awareness, breaking through the walls of dictatorship, raising sky-high slogans, fist to fist, voice to voice, together with the roaring waves of the people’s ocean, we loudly proclaimed, Long live the Republic, Long live the Republic.”
The milk-fed infant, gently rocking in the warmth of a mother’s embrace, with sleepy eyes filled with maternal tenderness, when he dreamed the beautiful dream of a new Nepal, stopped suckling and in a baby’s babble said, “Long live the Republic, Long live the Republic.”
