In the quiet village of Morahang, Shalleri of Terhathum district, nestled in the hills of Nepal, there stood a home known as "Baraalbaari." The Baraalbaari was a place of reverence, a symbol of tradition and honor, where the Bhattarai family had lived and thrived. The villagers looked up to this household, for it was a pillar of the community, providing support, social security, and wisdom to everyone around.
The man of this respected household was Krishna Prasad Bhattarai, who was well-known for his kindness and dedication to the welfare of the village. Yet, despite all the respect and admiration he commanded, Krishna Prasad was plagued by a deep-seated fear—a fear that his family lineage would come to an end with him. His two mothers, who had raised him with traditional values, shared this concern. They longed for a grandson who would carry forward the Bhattarai legacy, ensuring the continuity of their bloodline.
Krishna Prasad married for the first time in his early twenties. His bride was a gentle and loving woman, and together they hoped to start a family. However, fate had other plans. After several years of marriage, his first wife passed away without bearing a child. Heartbroken but determined, Krishna Prasad married again. His second wife brought him joy, and soon she gave birth to a daughter. While he was grateful for his child, the absence of a son weighed heavily on his heart.
As the years passed, Krishna Prasad married for the third time, still holding onto the hope of having a son. His third wife, like the others, was a devoted and caring partner. She, too, gave birth to a daughter. Tragically, the second wife passed away, leaving behind her daughter to be raised by the third wife. Krishna Prasad’s hope for a son seemed to grow more distant with each passing year.
Despite the love he had for his daughters, Krishan Prasad couldn’t shake the fear that he would be the last in the long line of Bhattarais. The village elders and his own mothers reminded him constantly of the importance of a son to carry on the family name. Desperation set in, and Krishna Prasad left no stone unturned in his quest to have a son. He sought the blessings of priests, performed countless religious rituals, and embarked on pilgrimages to sacred sites across Nepal and India. He even tried various local medicines and therapies, all in the hope of fulfilling his wish.
As years passed, some of his relatives began to call him a "Kuputro," a deeply insulting term in Nepali culture. Despite the sting of this hurtful label, he never lost hope. He was nearing forty, and the thought of his family name fading into obscurity tormented him. The once vibrant and confident man now seemed a shadow of his former self, burdened by the weight of his unfulfilled desire. However, in a final attempt to have a son, he along with his third wife journeyed to Shabhapokhari, a sacred pond nestled in the mountains of Sankhuwasabha district, Nepal. There, in the summer of 1964, the couple offered prayers with unwavering devotion, pleading for the blessing of a son.
Then, one day, when Krishna Prasad was 39 years old, something miraculous happened. His third wife, who had always supported him through the years of uncertainty, gave birth to a son on the 24th day of April 1965. The news spread like wildfire through Shalleri village and beyond. The Baraalbaari was once again filled with joy and celebration. The villagers, who had long admired Krishna Prasad’s perseverance and dedication to his family, rejoiced with him. It was as though the birth of his son had breathed new life into the entire community.
Krishna Prasad named his son Raj Kumar, which means "prince" in English. The name was fitting, for this child was the embodiment of the hope that had sustained Krishna Prasad and his wife Durga Devi through years of struggle. As Raj Kumar grew, he became the pride of the Bhattarai family, the symbol of its enduring legacy.
The villagers of Shalleri and beyond continued to look up to the Baraalbaari, and the respect for Krishna Prasad grew even stronger. He had not only secured his family’s future but had also taught everyone the value of patience, faith, and unwavering determination. The Baraalbaari, once again, stood tall as a beacon of tradition and hope in the hills of Terhathum.