भ्वाइस खबर
Desert Dreams ( Short Story)
-Tomnath Uprety
In the molten morning mist, when Kathmandu’s callous clouds cleared, Ramchandra left, clutching a crumpled copy of a visit visa, a dream drenched in desert winds, and a mother’s muffled prayers folded into his chest pocket.
He had seen the shimmering skyscrapers of Sharjah in Facebook feeds, the sunsets over Dubai’s dunes, and believed that destiny danced only in the deserts, where gold glitters in grocery shops and fortune falls like falcons from blue skies.
But destiny is a stern teacher, a silent sage, and a subtle sculptor, shaping souls with the sharpness of sorrow and the serenity of solitude.
When Ramchandra’s feet first felt the searing sand, he believed it to be the scent of success. He wandered in malls marbled like palaces, the air-conditioning whispering illusions of arrival, the luxury limousines luring him to lose himself in loans, and the bright lights blinding the brittle boundaries between needs and narcissism.
His Nepali rupees were tiny tears in the tide of dirhams, dissolving daily in rent, roaming charges, and relentless reminders from relatives requesting remittances he had yet to earn.
At night, under the indifferent illumination of a shared room’s flickering fluorescent tube, he would clutch his phone, scrolling through images of golden towers, telling himself he would someday touch them, tame them, turn them into triumph.
Yet his pockets were bleeding, and his spirit, though initially flaming, began to flicker like a fragile firefly caught in a cold corridor.
The UAE’s glass gardens and concrete crescendos became mirages, moving farther the faster he ran, and each “networking dinner” was another dirham drained. The so-called “agents of opportunity” extracted “registration fees” with plastic smiles and “training charges” with false promises, leaving Ramchandra with receipts instead of results.
Spiritually, he began to see that the true desert was not outside him but within him, a vast, vacant yearning, longing for purpose, not possessions.
One dawn, while walking past a mosque, the adhan’s echo entered him like a river into dry soil, softening the stone in his heart, whispering:
“Wealth is not in what you hoard, but what you hold within.”
He saw the dazzling dunes and recognized the impermanence of each ripple, each ridge erased by the wind overnight, much like the ephemeral earnings of those chasing false lights in foreign lands.
Ramchandra learned that dreams are sacred seeds, but they need the soil of discipline to sprout; else, they wither in the harsh heat of illusions. Many chase shimmering visions, forgetting that without inner structure, dreams dissolve into dust. He saw how each dirham he spent without clarity was a petal plucked from his future, reminding him that discipline is devotion in practice, the quiet courage to say “no” to distractions for the “yes” of a higher calling.
He understood that patience is prayer in motion, a silent surrender that trusts divine timing. Like the desert dunes shifting patiently under moonlight, life’s blessings arrive not through haste, but through humble waiting. He realized that to rush is to rupture, while to wait with faith is to receive with gratitude.
Ramchandra saw how desire without direction devours savings silently, like sand seeping through clenched fists. He learned that yearning must be yoked with wisdom, for desire alone is a wildfire, consuming quietly until nothing remains. Spiritually, he awakened to the truth that the purest riches are born not from relentless wanting, but from mindful striving, where each desire is aligned with purpose, prayer, and peace.
He met another Nepali at a tea stall, who said:
“Here, we either learn to stand on our own spiritual spine or we are swallowed by the glitter.”
Ramchandra, with the last dirhams he had, chose to buy a notebook instead of another shawarma, writing:
“I came to conquer the desert, but the desert conquered my illusions.”
When he returned to Nepal, the people saw only a man who spent too much and earned too little, but within him was a cathedral of clarity. He learned the invisible income of insight, the wealth of wisdom, and the currency of character.
He began working with local youths, telling them:
“Before you buy a ticket, buy a vision. Before you spend, spend time learning. Before you fly, let your soul soar.”
And so, the man who went to the UAE on a visit visa and spent more than he earned, returned richer in realization. His spirit now carried the sand’s softness and the sun’s strength, reminding all:
“Not all journeys are for gold; some are for growth.”
And as he walked barefoot across his village’s dawn-dewed fields, each step was a prayer, each breath a blessing, and each day a reminder that the richest soil is the soul that has returned from its deserts alive. ( Ratuwamai- 5 Morang)
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