‘My father’s Australian visa came just a few weeks ago,’ Rachna Khatiwada is telling me with a smile that she should be happy to hear. Rasik, who was waiting for the visa, was not there when the letter arrived. Father Purushottam Khatiwada, as usual, entered the living room after taking a bath. He added oil to the lamp burning near the photo of his son who had been garlanded. Then, wiping his hands, he said, ‘Father, you have got your visa.’

If Rasik were alive, he would probably have gone to Australia for a few years. With a promise to return because of his parents' love. But he left like this, unable to make a promise to himself to return. 'He left never to return,' Rachna thinks to herself.

There is a living room in the house in Teku. His childhood photos are smiling around the drawer. Rasik's family is very happy in the photos. Time has turned so fast that Rasik's father, mother and sister are crying while looking at the photo of the happy family. While looking at the photos, Rachna feels that his son is alive, who comes out with a smile and says, 'Don't cry, Mamu' and wipes away his tears.

Rasik's father finds a way to satisfy his heart. Every morning, looking at his son's photo, he scolds him with affection, 'Did you leave us to get respect for yourself?'

On Bhadra 23, Rasik was shot in the chest during the Gen-G movement against corruption. He fell down, never to get up. Like Rasik, 42 ​​people lost their lives to the state's bullets. In two days, 76 people died.

It has been two months since Rasik fell, and the family has not yet recovered from the grief. But mother Rachna is not even crying out for justice for her son. Sometimes she goes out on the streets and sometimes she goes to Baluwatar. Rachna has already been to Baluwatar four or five times. Even when she tries to control herself, something someone says hits her like an arrow in the ear, 'Poor thing! You sacrificed so much. Those children did not get justice.' Then it burns inside. Rachna once vented that anger to Prime Minister Sushila Karki in Baluwatar. While Karki was speaking, Rachna's patience to listen broke. She said to the Prime Minister, pointing her finger in her emotion, 'You are the mother of the country. I am also a mother. I have come to do justice as a mother. Have you done justice?' Karki assured Rachna, holding her and saying, 'Nani, I will do it slowly. Give it a chance.’

The Rasik family has no major complaints with the interim government formed after the Gen-G movement. They sat on a sit-in at the gate of the Tribhuvan University Teaching Hospital demanding that their children be cremated with national honors. On the ninth day, the government fulfilled their demand. ‘Other demands are being met gradually. There is hope. But the main thing is that the murderers who killed our young children have not been arrested,’ says father Purushottam.

The words spoken by responsible leaders of some parties also hurt them. ‘Our son died of a bullet while fighting to change the situation in the country. It was not while he was going to steal, but how insensitively some people are making fun of their sons’ sacrifice,’ says mother Rachna.

Rasik, 23, who studied hotel management, was honing his skills at his sister-in-law Sneha KC’s restaurant. He had a close relationship with tourists from different countries. The tourists from France had even invited him to France. Rasik used to say at home, ‘Where should I go abroad, leaving my uncle?’ Sister Rasila was in Australia. Father Purushottam was in Dhading for his job at Telecom. Rasik was dependent on his mother. He would spend the whole day with his mother in his free time. He would make TikToks. He would make tea for his mother at two in the afternoon.

On the day of the protest, Rasik had left at 11 o’clock while eating. ‘He was in a hurry. He had eaten two bites when the call came. After he called and came in, he said, “Mamu, I am going to the protest,” Rachna recalls that fateful day. Even though his mother told him not to go, Rasik insisted, ‘I will go immediately. After I go, I will go to the side. I will not go in the middle. I will come at exactly two o’clock to make tea for you.’

After his son left, Rachna’s watch struck two as she looked back at the way home. ‘Whenever he knew he would come, he would come exactly at that time. But that day he didn't come,' says Rachna.

She was still looking for her son even before five o'clock. Two of Rasik's friends came from far away. They gave Rachna her son's jacket and mobile phone and said, 'Auntie, Rasik had left it in the cafe. We had seen the house. That's why he brought it.' Rachna felt cold. What she knew was that Rasik's mobile phone never broke in any situation. She asked repeatedly in frustration, 'Is Rasik here?' They assured her, 'Auntie, he will come.'

Then Rachna was overcome with sadness. She kept feeling anxious. She felt something difficult inside. Looking at her face in the mirror, she saw that it was completely red. 'Why is it so difficult for me?' she asked herself.

Rachna was unaware of the protest in Baneshwor until now. Let's call her son, the mobile phone had arrived at home. While she was struggling, her daughter Rasila called from Australia, ‘Mommy, is your brother here?’ Even when she said ‘no’, Rasila’s call kept coming. At 8 o’clock, Rasila called her mother in a soft voice, ‘Mommy, you should eat.’ Rachna was waiting for Rasik to come and eat.

At that time, Rasila told her mother, ‘I will send you a video, don’t panic.’ When she told her not to panic, Rachna started panicking even more. ‘In the video, the doctors had given Rasik CPR. After watching the video, Hans left the place. I am alone at home. Where should I go, what should I do? Who should I tell? I just ran. I ran downstairs. I didn’t have shoes on my feet. The door wasn’t locked. I turned around and put my shoes on again. When I tried to drive, a curfew had been imposed in the city. I was oblivious to everything,’ says Rachna.

She stopped a pasha while screaming. The doctor took her to the trauma center. Seeing the crowd of people who could not stand on their feet in the trauma center, she jumped off the bike. When she fell at the gate, activist Rupesh Thakur picked her up. She urged the police to let her in, but they did not let her in. After not finding her son in the trauma center, she went to Everest Hospital in Baneshwor. After not finding him there either, she went to Tribhuvan University Teaching Hospital.

She fainted when she reached Tribhuvan University Teaching Hospital. As soon as she reached the hospital, she rushed out. There were police at the gate. As soon as she saw the police, she cried and shouted, ‘Why did you shoot my father? Didn’t you love me?’ By the time she reached the gate, she was so distraught that doctors and nurses surrounded her. She collapsed there. The bed was being saluted. Rachna screamed again pleadingly, saying, ‘My father will not be found.’ Instead of comforting her, they tried to give her a syringe. Many people from the hospital came and forcibly held her and started giving her injections. Rupesh Thakur, who reached the hospital with Rachna, reminded the health workers, ‘If her son does not regain consciousness due to shock, you are responsible.’ 

Then they retreated. After a while, Rachna’s brother-in-law arrived. The brother-in-law and Rupesh went to look for Rasik. When Rachna returned, she saw her brother-in-law wiping away her tears. She felt as if she had stopped breathing. Then other family members also arrived at the hospital. Rachna had already realized that she had lost her son. However, a mother’s heart held hope until the last moment. She kept that hope alive.

If someone cried in front of her, she would plead, ‘Please, don’t cry in front of me. Nothing has happened to him. He is undergoing medical treatment.’

That day, Rasik was not found. She reached home from the hospital at 12 midnight. At 8 am, she took a nap without blinking, then went to the hospital. At 10 am, she went to the morgue with her brother and son-in-law. The young faces inside were fast asleep. She was looking for her son in the line of those who had fallen fighting for change. One of them said, ‘Does your father have tattoos on both sides?’ Seeing the tattooed body lying there without saying anything, Rachna felt like a mountain thundering on her head.

Rasik had tattoos of his father and mother on both his hands and the name of his beloved dog on his chest. Rachna fell unconscious while holding Rasik’s feet and crying.

She does not remember the days that followed at all. Sometimes the series of conscious and unconsciousness continued to repeat for many days.

A mother is telling this terrible pain after a month and a half, in a state of confusion. She repeatedly spasms while speaking. Her lips dry up. Her body trembles. But still she does not stop speaking. ‘I have to say this. It is a question of father’s justice,’ says Rachna.

Even now, Rachna and Purushottam still feel that their son is inside the house. When Rasik came home, he would call the dog on the stairs. That same voice still echoes in their ears. ‘He used to call the dog outside saying ‘yes’. I heard that voice the other day. I told the others – did you hear it? But who else would hear it except me?’ Rachna gets lost. ‘His footsteps keep ringing in her ears. And I don’t think that my father has gone away.’

Sometimes Rachna is working in the kitchen. She hears a voice saying ‘Mamu’. Saying ‘Hajur’, she goes to Rasik’s room. The room is empty.

Rasik is the past. But, Rasik’s parents want the present to always remember him as their son. They want their son, who fought for the change in the country’s situation, to live on in the memory of the people. Their fight for their son’s honor is also ongoing. They want to see his letters inscribed in the name of the martyr indelibly. Rachna is also repeatedly pressuring the government to include the martyr’s name and her son in the list of the gazetteers.