By Aayushnova Dhungana KC

The month of May was named after goddess Maia, the Roman era goddess of fertility. To my family, May is the month of a cherubic boy- Chimba- now celestial. Né en May mislaid in May.

For the most part, Chimba is a pipe dream of delight. Happy to excavate the rocks of the garden. Happy to get exasperated. Happy to get caged. Happy to be freed. Enlivened to eat. Extremely frisky. Chimba is never an emotion away from happiness. He does not just walk, he chuffs in joy. Food is Chimba’s bent.

The only words for Chimba’s range of emotions are exultation, elation, and ecstasy. Despondency never occurs to him. Even in grief, you could look at how coy Chimba gets and be content with genial. His utter sheer stark love for life, love for food, and love for the rocks consume him. Had I not known of Chimba, I wouldn’t be as Zen as I am today. There is no upper hand to the attainment of Nirvana but it isn’t the case with Chim. Give him the least alluring food, and he’d eat it with a simper as if it were delectable and delightful.

Every friend, every person you see represents a world in you that remains abstruse and obscure till they unveil it. Chimba unveils the happiness in everybody he converges with. Like any big German Shepherd dog, he has a mouth the size of a big rig. He bolts food like that’s his sanctified shul. He glints in the puddle of jubilation.

Chimba is my concluding doctrine. My lantern of light in heaven. If belief about there being an afterlife is verifiable, it will be Chimba in the nirvana of subsistence, probably gleaming his halo. That’s just how sanctified my Chimba is.

The author is a Medical student currently studying in Dhaka, Bangladesh

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