Bistarai Bistarai (Slowly Slowly)

Bistarai, Bistarai (Slowly, Slowly)
Four fingertips in my left hand are painful with blisters; my forearm is hurting too. It is my
fifth day of learning a song in a guitar I borrowed from my cousin to have something to
pass the time with during the community quarantine. I am in the moment of “flow” and
time really does fly when you are very focused.
It is only with the coming of the dark and my fingers becoming more and more sore that
I notice that hours have passed. As I traverse my hand across the frets, so too does the
day together with the rising statistics of covid-19 infected people in the Philippines, the
terrible news of unemployment and injustices, the shutting of a big TV network.
I am not a complete beginner in playing guitar. I can play with the most basic of chords
so I thought that I will learn a new song in about a day- but here I am in my fifth going
on sixth, still struggling in every way, fingers confused as to what to do with strings that
only give a dull ring.
My mind too, is confused for the song I am practicing is in Nepali - a ballad titled
“Bistarai, bistarai” – a cheesy one that reminds me of sweet and romantic Filipino
songs.
“Bistarai, bistarai dubdai chu timro maya ko sagar ma ma”

Slowly, slowly drown me in the ocean of your love
And so apart from learning the chords and plucking of stings, I need to learn to speak
unfamiliar words while studying the tune as well. At the end, when I can already play the
song I will send a video to my Nepali friends who live in Seattle. I want them to know
that I am thinking about them in this time of the pandemic.
We have happy memories: with them I spent long summer nights watching the sun set
while I was in training in the US in an environment-related job. We used to go out at
night and search for dark places so we could look at stars. On weekends, we go out
exploring the wide wilderness of Washington.
My friends introduced me to Nepali foods and a way of life I would never have known. I
danced with them in a colorful sari in festivals and though I do not understand their
songs, I felt them. Some things really do transcend language.
I was drawn, without understanding why, to another culture. It felt home.
Turns out there is more to Nepal than the Himalayas with the image of prayer flags in
the wind that is usually seen in the media. In Seattle, my friends told me stories of when
they were kids running around the country of high mountains encountering wild animals,
getting lost in the forest, and flying kites.
Filipinos have many similarities with Nepalese too- in looks, landscape and economy. If
we put a picture of their hilly areas beside our own Cordilleras it will be hard to tell them
apart; we look alike as well- I can pass as a Nepali and they can pass as Filipinos.
Being a third world country, their struggles reflect our own also: everyday 10,000
Nepalese depart from the country to work in another, a Nepali researcher told me and I
am reminded of the plights of our OFWs and migrant workers. Maybe this is why I felt
such an affinity with them.
“Khula pankha fijai aakash ma ude ko chari mukta huna chahanchu ma”
I want to be free like the bird soaring in the sky with its wings wide open
And so now I am here in the other side of the Pacific confined in the four corners of
home, remembering friendships sealed with the drinking of spicy chai; of cold Pacific
Northwest days warmed by momos ( Nepali dumpling). The memories are powerful in
pushing me through the blisters of playing guitar, the pain of everyday living in the
Philippines with all the issues we are facing.
I have come a long way for I am also learning their language and alphabet. It is difficult
but it has become a hobby, a refuge even, for when days go dark which usually
happens these days. There I memorize new words to clear my mind of saddening news
discovering new adventures, new worlds in a far away linguistic journey as infections
here rise.
Slowly, slowly like the title of the song, I am learning: a new language, a song, how to
be closer with friends though we are apart now and will be for a long time. I am learning
accepting the new normal which is sometimes as painful as learning a new skill.
One day when we see each other again in person I wish to be able to speak and sing in
Nepali. I want to be able to read signs written in their script. It is with this that I want to
thank them for overwhelming kindness and generosity they showed a person of another
nationality: through understanding what they consider important.
Bistarai, bistarai. I will learn, in time.
Slowly, slowly the world will heal and we will see each other again.
“Sustari, sustari gaundai cha yo maan le geet timro naam ko. Bistarai. Sustari.”
This heart gently sings the song of your name. Slowly. Softly.
Note: translations by Saryu Chitrakar (youtube.com)
Pat Labitoria is from Quezon Province. She works in the environmental sector and is
interested in biodiversity conservation. She writes at: www.thegreenwayfarer.org.

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Bistarai, Bistarai (Slowly, Slowly)

“Bistarai, bistarai dubdai chu timro maya ko sagar ma ma”

I was drawn, without understanding why, to another culture. It felt home.

Bistarai, bistarai. I will learn, in time.

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