It has been forty-five days since you passed away today. These days seem longer to me than the fifty-three years of cohabitation with you. Today, I am offering this word as a tribute after the tears in my eyes. A series of years, months, days and moments of memory come and go one by one.

Supposedly, they are like waves in the ocean of life. The waves that are flowing and flowing from a distance touch them and go back to an unknown direction. It's probably death.

After the success of the mass movement of 2046, you won the post of Member of Parliament representing Nepali Congress from Kathmandu-2 in the general election of 2048. After the re-establishment of democracy, Girija Prasad Koirala proposed that Damannath Dhungana should be elected Speaker of the Parliament.

Girijababu's nature of speaking less, your nature of keeping your thoughts fluent. Koirala, proposing the election of the speaker, said, 'I don't want to waste it by refilling the full tank, I don't want to talk too much.' You were elected unopposed after the then parliamentary minister Taranath Ranabhat supported Koirala's proposal. However, your term of running the lively parliament lasted only from 2048 to 2051.

Even a second's act of kindness by a person is memorable. Your role as Speaker was memorable for the parliamentary system. As Speaker, one sentence of yours will be remembered forever in the history of Parliament - the government belongs to the ruling party, the House belongs to the opposition, the majority belongs to the House, and the House belongs to the minority. 

In the eyes of the parliamentarians of the ruling party, that statement of yours was embarrassing. Now MPs are saying that your statement is true. Time is very powerful. Only time will judge the true and false. Now you have come to the test of appreciation - like gold refined in a goldsmith's furnace.

Militant MPs like Manmohan Adhikari and Madan Bhandari used to shake the parliament with their preparedness. As Speaker, you expected the same from the MPs of the ruling party. Parliament used to run all night long. By the time you returned home, it would have been the first hour of the morning. I am also an eyewitness, a witness of your tenure as Speaker. your life partner

Between Girijaprasad and Damannath, like the geography of Nepal in the form of two stones, I supported you by keeping you free from the problems and bonds of your family, believing in your self-respect, commitment and efficiency to run the parliament. You ran the parliament standing like a rock wall between the power 'devotees' and 'divisive' MPs in the parliament.

That time when your good intentions were misinterpreted and that stress I allowed without comment to increase your vision and self-confidence. I am between two stones, how could I be one-sided and me. I helped you climb to the top by adding one brick at a time to the trust you had in me. With that faith, you climbed Mount Everest. I left at the base camp. 

You want perfection in everything, you seek mastery. Be it in study, writing or debate. The speech prepared by the Parliament staff did not make sense to you. Even when I went abroad with you in the tour group, you had to take 'dictation' of the speech you would deliver tomorrow.

In the flow of time, such things may seem like fairy tales now. But, they are true. If my consciousness supports me, I will stop writing the story of how to climb the ladder of struggle for future generations by making the ideological beliefs of Speaker Damannath Dhungana a ladder of words. If future generations can follow the flow of my pen, I will consider my life successful and worthwhile. 

You had reached Rolpa to bring the Maoists involved in violent activities to the peace process. After seeing the bad situation there, we got emotional and said in the speech - If I had been born in Rolpa, I would have been a Maoist too. These expressions of yours were timely. After this news spread in the newspaper, Damannath became a Maoist  The

was rumored. You were accused of being a Maoist. In 2017, after Raja Mahendra's 'coup', how did you become a Maoist? In the year 2029, you used to describe the days you spent in prison with Kishunji as unforgettable. How could you be a Maoist inspired by BP, Ganeshman, Kishunji and Gandhi philosophy?

At this moment, I am remembering the last letter of a poem you sent me from prison - Sometime the news came that I was dead / at the last moment for me / to give so much, my heart / on my behalf / to prostrate / to that great country that gave birth. 

2081 That day of November 2, that day that comes every year, that day is unforgettable for me. People used to say to you, 'You are a strong speaker.' But you did not even say 'Aiya', you went quietly without saying anything to anyone. You are a poet, storyteller, lyricist, journalist, constitutionalist, human rights activist, civil leader, activist of the peace process.

Your logical style, eloquence. Your unique ability to make others laugh with bits and humor. What do I know, you are sleeping with your eyes closed and you are making plans for Mahaprasthan. No eyes on the newspaper, no hearing the news. Far away from everything, which path and which destination were you choosing? This condition landed you in the hospital. Your journey is over. The way back home lost. Even in the hospital bed you were sleeping with your eyes closed. Like sleeping on a bed at home. 

People were associating your death with the Nirvana of the Mahatmas. I was thinking, your habit of always joking, even that day you are thinking of some joke. You yourself have chosen this unforgettable style of death. One day when I was in the Delhi hospital during treatment, you suddenly said to me - 'If anything happens to me here, take me to the banks of the Yamuna river and bury me. Don't indulge in frills and flamboyance.'

Because of your habit of joking, I thought your statement was also a joke. But, your funeral was not what you wanted. You are a man of the people. In your honor, a procession of people marched from small cow to Aryaghat. It was the same small cowshed from where you made your famous speech. That place became the place of your last darshan.

In that place, young people, regardless of their declining age, flocked to hear your speech full of energy and ooze. Apart from that, countless youths were staring at your earthly body with their eyes full of tears. There was a thought in many people's minds - who will give energy to increase the speed of Congress in the absence of Daman Dai?

On your earthly body adorned with the four-starred flag of the Congress, I draped a bright, shining pitamber. I thought - Your face is shining with the glow of pitamber. My eyes were filled with tears. To clear the confusion, I bent down and wiped the tears from my eyes. How much your thin body could bear the weight of your earthly body decorated with flower garlands and the national flag with the moon and sun on it. 

You used to call me 'Madam Madam'. Is that called or teased? I had no idea. For me, your physical absence was a disaster of a landslide, a tsunami of the sea and the vibration of an earthquake all at once. I could not attend your grand departure due to my disturbed mind. I returned home following your quiet style. What will be the last rites? A handful of ashes from a burnt body. Like the last poem recited by the great poet Lakshmi Prasad Devkota – I called zero to zero.