09-09-2025, 05:28 PM
Frozen Flower-A Psychoknight submission
Psychoknight
The chilling wind penetrated my heavy jacket to my skin and the feeling was as if you are pricked by thousands of needle made by ice. The blizzard started many hours before the predicted time, I needed to make it at least 10 KM s that day, but I could not see anything but white blindness all round me.
A lone trekker is a good thing, an amazing thing when you look at the peace of solitary wilderness surrounding you and you felt that how small you are when you compare yourself with the vast nature. But this is one of the moments when you desperately seek a traveling companion, a guide who will pull you out of the indomitable force of nature.
When I thought I was going to die in the bitter cold and the ever falling snow will decorate my grave, I saw a manmade structure at a distance. The beacon of life, it was a ray of hope.
The distance was not far, but soft layer of snow made the job difficult for me. With all my power left in my soul, I dragged one foot before another just to reach it. The job became easier once I found solid ground beneath me. I was saved, the hard solid lair of rocky road was unmistakably demarked by black and white short column beside it, and it must be the road leading to my destination which I lost a few hours ago. A structure of some sort of temple beside the road saved my life and that was going to be my resting place for a while if I needed to survive the rest of the blizzard.
What caught my eyes as I came near to the structure was the striking contrast of colour in the monotonous white continuity of snow with the bright colour of various flowers. It must be some miracle, how come this snowy pick can hold such beautiful colours? How come they survived in this bitter chill?
My mental and physical condition was not suitable to enjoy the nature. I dragged myself into the shelter. The hissing sound of passing wind could not be able to reach me once I was inside. They increase their intensity just to remind me that they are waiting outside, I am their prey, and my death belonged to them.
I got rid of my ice goggles to look inside of my saviour. It was a small square shaped structure with no deity inside. Just in the middle of the room, a square piece of stone was covered with various fresh flowers. I travelled a lot, seen many places, but never saw an empty temple is worshipped regularly. I placed myself in a corner, careful enough not to step on anything inside. I thanked whatever god the stone symbolizes, and soon my tiredness took over and I fall asleep.
My trance got shattered with the sound of heavy footsteps. Two military men stepped inside and stopped for a moment. They looked towards me for a while, but said nothing. One of them placed fresh picked flower in the stone, probably they just picked the flowers from outside of the temple. They placed few, and took a bunch of the flowers from the ground which was already offered by some previous devotee. They glanced towards me for the second time and got out of the temple in a hurry. The heavy truck carrying them roared its engine and slowly rolled away towards distant Indo-Tibet border leaving patch of oil and smoke behind.
I picked up my equipment from the ground and stepped outside. The sky was perfect blue without a slightest hint of cloud anywhere. The sunlight reflected from white snow everywhere blinded me for a while. I took help of the goggles once again to look around me. What I thought as a completely deserted area but this small temple was not true. The clear weather increased my visibility and I could spot at least three localities in distance. The unmistakable reflection of metal roof in the village could be spotted from miles away. I could even gladly spot a small shop within few meters away from my resting place. I quickly rushed towards it with hope of some food and even something to keep me warm if I am lucky.
The aged shop owner was surprised to see a civilian at first, and then he greeted me with a cordial smile. I sat near the burning oven and ordered for a salt tea.
Once my stomach is full with the noodles and tea, I faced the old man for a chat.
For last few hours I was very curious about the temple. And I asked about it straight away.
“It is the temple of frozen flower” the old man replied.
Dear readers, I have travelled many parts across the globe, had seen many places, was accustomed with many cultures and religions, but never heard of anything like this before. The temple of Frozen Flower!!!! My curiosity reached at its peak and I pursued the experienced shop owner to tell me everything about the temple and its history, all of it. The old man told me the story I will never forget in my life. I am giving here the exact version of the same without giving any linguistic addition or alteration, as nothing can be more exciting than the real life itself.
" Kali and Kamal were made for each other. The sweetest soft beautiful girl was named after the small spring Kali Jhora, which circles around the small village, Kali was like the small unknown flowers that filled their small village with joy and happiness, always jumping, smiling, full of life.
Kamal Bahadur Thapa was like the mountain that protects the village from the icy wind from north. He was strong, well-built and ready to face any danger with a smile on his face. Even when he faced a pack of wolves alone with only a khukuri in his hand, everybody can swear that even then he was smiling.
The small village was their world and Kali and Kamal was its favourite child. The whole village grew up with them; the whole village danced with them, when they fall in love with each other, the whole village was present to celebrate the evening when they were engaged with a promise of even brighter future together.
It was a memorable day for them when Kamal was selected to represent the Gorkha regiment in the Royal British Army during the 2nd world war. They were worried too, and they should be as nobody among them ever stepped outside this small village to see the world, and their favourite son was going to war!!
Kamal stood tall like the mountain itself to console the entire village. He pulled out his khukuri from his belt, held it high and told;
“Don’t you worry my dear elders; there is nobody strong enough in the entire Japanese force that can stand in front of my valour. You raised me strong enough to survive the onslaught of the entire Japanese force along with their German brothers. I promise you that, I will return victorious before the water in Kali Jhora turns to ice.”
Strong words from a strong man, but his voice became soft as he mentions the name of Kali, even if it was meant with some other purpose.
Kali was proud of her love; Kali could see Kamal as larger than life itself in front of her eyes. She knew nothing about the Japan or German or even British, but all she could understand that her knight in the shining armour was going to war, and he will return victorious. She could imagine that how a king is going to be rewarded for his courage and matchless valour in the field of war. Kali could visualize the pack of enemy army is running from the battlefield, scared like that pack of wolf. Soaked in the blood of enemy and sweat, Kamal alone stood victorious in a smiling face.
Kamal left with the life force of the entire village through the windy makeshift road that the army prepared to reach the border area, Kali could not sleep that night, and countless nights after that. With every footstep, every passing sound of military truck, Kali rushed out of her room with the fresh picked flowers in her hand. The flowers she picked up with her own hand every morning, with the expectation that Kamal will return from his battlefield to accept it from her hand. She picked them every morning, and cast them every evening in the stream of Kali Jhora with a hope that the stream will carry these flowers to Kamal.
The morning really came, when Kamal indeed arrived in the huge green military truck. As always, Kali rushed towards the truck with flowers in her hand, her heart skipped a bit as she saw Kamal was looking down from the truck with his familiar innocent smile.
Kamal became famous already within his regiment for his courage and daredevil attitude. All his colleagues greeted Kali as sister and picked her up in the truck for a stroll. The carriage was filled with laughter and cheers. It was a short ride, but Kali felt it is going for ever as she was dying to spend time together with Kamal. She wanted Kamal alone for a few moments.
They left the truck at least a mile before their village and walked the whole road while returning. None of them mentioned what happen during their walk together, but Kali seemed extra red as they reached, and Kamal was unusually talkative and unmindful as he was looking at Kali at every opportunity.
The village celebrated the returning of their hero. Kamal already got a field promotion for his courageous act in the battlefield and even praised by the white skinned general personally. The whole village gathered together that night surrounding the community fire and was grasping every word, every description Kamal was saying about the war. They felt that the act of war was happening in front of their eyes and their blood started to boil. The night was cold; even then nobody left for inside, instead they replaced Kamal with themselves and started visualizing the war in vivid imagination.
Kali laughed with every silly joke Kamal told during his deliberation, looked scared when Kamal described the flight of deadly Mitsubishi, but above all she seemed soaked in love. The wavy light of the wooden fire created a beautiful painting of a happy big family surrounding the entire village as its member.
All good things end quickly, so did Kamal’s leave. He left for the field again, but promised to return with at least a whole month’s leave this time, so he could finally marry Kali. Kali turned red, but her eyes followed the disappearing trail of the big carriage that took away his Kamal to a distant land. Her eyes kept on following the road even when the truck was long gone.
From the very next day, it became a regular routine for Kali to wait for Kamal in the road side with fresh picked flowers. But this time she could find a more practical way to send them to her love. She waited for Kamal in every carriage, and when she could not find him in that, she run beside it so she could give the flowers to every extended hand of soldiers. When her hand was empty, then she quickly returned to replenish them. She handed over every flower with a silent prayer in her eyes, “Please tell my Kamal that his Kali is waiting for him with flowers in her hand.”
Days passed in months and to years, but Kamal never returned. Few army men arrived at their village with ‘Missing in action’ notice, but Kali never left hope. Every morning she handpicked fresh flowers, waited patiently beside the road on that square rock, with a hope that this truck will surely bring Kamal back, Kamal will laugh and will pick her up in the carriage. She kept on giving every soldier a flower each, to carry her message to her love, to Kamal. For day and night she waited, and became the part of landscape itself.
Decades passed by, the war and the army changed its name and banner, but two things never changed: The waiting of Kali for Kamal’s return and the military truck carrying many more Kamals to the battlefield. Kali could now hardly stands straight, but still she holds her hands straight with the bouquet of flowers, the trucks surely stops beside her, and few lucky soldiers receives the flowers from her hand. The love of Kali and devotion for Kamal turns her into a legend now, and it is told that whoever receives flower from her hand, will return to her Kali un-harmed from the battlefield.
It was during the Indo-China war, the road suddenly became very important due to its strategic location. The road became the busiest one, and throughout the day and night military carriages started running towards the border. Along with the road, Kali also became very busy, now for day and night. Without fail she attends every convoy with the expectation of Kamal’s arrival with flowers in her hand.
That year the winter seemed merciless. The temperature of the war was at its peak, but the nature was exact opposite to that. The windy chill froze the entire Kali jhora and the hills surrounding it, but the flowers kept on blooming for Kali to pick them up. The villagers requested Kali to stop her obsession, at least till the weather got better, but by that time she became a symbol of love, hope and luck. A simple village woman became a goddess of hope to many,
The village will remember that night like the night they spent with Kamal. The blizzard covered the entire road with thick snow, and even the four wheeler military trucks, wrapping barbwire in their wheels could not manage to get past the snow. That night the whole village could not sleep due to the bite of the cold and was waiting for the night to be over.
The unmistakable roar of the truck stopped beside their village. Few of them could see the shadow of Kali slowly proceeding towards the truck. It was exactly the same truck that brought their son back from the field of battle years ago. They could even hear the sound of laughter and cheers as Kali reached the truck. The singing of joy and enthusiasm filled the chilly winter with warmth of love.
The villagers stepped outside their houses to see Kali boarding the truck with a bunch of flowers exactly as she did years ago. The heavy truck slowly disappears from their sight carrying Kali in it. And with it the wind increased, it’s howling and chills pushed the resident of that village inside.
The next morning, once the sky got clear, they found Kali on that small square rock, frozen in the snow along with her flowers. She looked so beautiful even in that condition that she almost looked like the frozen flowers in her hand. A mystique smile in her face shows that she was in peace when her life left her body to ultimately join with Kamal’s.
Kali remains as a symbol of hope and a promise to return for many of the soldiers. They made a small temple surrounding her final resting place and covered it with flowers. The nature also covered the entire area with flowers, which sometimes froze from the toughness of the weather, but never lost its glory. The army men covered her tomb everyday with fresh flowers and pick up the old one to distribute among themselves with a hope to return. "
I know the ending of the story even before it began. But something sweet melancholy tune was in the story that made me engrossed for the whole time. I left the shop to return to the temple once again. During my travel I heard many stories similar to this, only the names were different, but the pain and the sufferings were same. But I found something new in this, it was hope. It was something new. It gave me hope last night and it will keep on giving to countless others after that. And for that I am grateful to the goddess of ‘Frozen flower’.
I picked up a blue orchid beside the temple, placed it on the square rock, picked up an old one and started my journey forward leaving the love of Kali and Kamal behind with a promise to return.
Frozen Flower
Psychoknight
The chilling wind penetrated my heavy jacket to my skin and the feeling was as if you are pricked by thousands of needle made by ice. The blizzard started many hours before the predicted time, I needed to make it at least 10 KM s that day, but I could not see anything but white blindness all round me.
A lone trekker is a good thing, an amazing thing when you look at the peace of solitary wilderness surrounding you and you felt that how small you are when you compare yourself with the vast nature. But this is one of the moments when you desperately seek a traveling companion, a guide who will pull you out of the indomitable force of nature.
When I thought I was going to die in the bitter cold and the ever falling snow will decorate my grave, I saw a manmade structure at a distance. The beacon of life, it was a ray of hope.
The distance was not far, but soft layer of snow made the job difficult for me. With all my power left in my soul, I dragged one foot before another just to reach it. The job became easier once I found solid ground beneath me. I was saved, the hard solid lair of rocky road was unmistakably demarked by black and white short column beside it, and it must be the road leading to my destination which I lost a few hours ago. A structure of some sort of temple beside the road saved my life and that was going to be my resting place for a while if I needed to survive the rest of the blizzard.
What caught my eyes as I came near to the structure was the striking contrast of colour in the monotonous white continuity of snow with the bright colour of various flowers. It must be some miracle, how come this snowy pick can hold such beautiful colours? How come they survived in this bitter chill?
My mental and physical condition was not suitable to enjoy the nature. I dragged myself into the shelter. The hissing sound of passing wind could not be able to reach me once I was inside. They increase their intensity just to remind me that they are waiting outside, I am their prey, and my death belonged to them.
I got rid of my ice goggles to look inside of my saviour. It was a small square shaped structure with no deity inside. Just in the middle of the room, a square piece of stone was covered with various fresh flowers. I travelled a lot, seen many places, but never saw an empty temple is worshipped regularly. I placed myself in a corner, careful enough not to step on anything inside. I thanked whatever god the stone symbolizes, and soon my tiredness took over and I fall asleep.
My trance got shattered with the sound of heavy footsteps. Two military men stepped inside and stopped for a moment. They looked towards me for a while, but said nothing. One of them placed fresh picked flower in the stone, probably they just picked the flowers from outside of the temple. They placed few, and took a bunch of the flowers from the ground which was already offered by some previous devotee. They glanced towards me for the second time and got out of the temple in a hurry. The heavy truck carrying them roared its engine and slowly rolled away towards distant Indo-Tibet border leaving patch of oil and smoke behind.
I picked up my equipment from the ground and stepped outside. The sky was perfect blue without a slightest hint of cloud anywhere. The sunlight reflected from white snow everywhere blinded me for a while. I took help of the goggles once again to look around me. What I thought as a completely deserted area but this small temple was not true. The clear weather increased my visibility and I could spot at least three localities in distance. The unmistakable reflection of metal roof in the village could be spotted from miles away. I could even gladly spot a small shop within few meters away from my resting place. I quickly rushed towards it with hope of some food and even something to keep me warm if I am lucky.
The aged shop owner was surprised to see a civilian at first, and then he greeted me with a cordial smile. I sat near the burning oven and ordered for a salt tea.
Once my stomach is full with the noodles and tea, I faced the old man for a chat.
For last few hours I was very curious about the temple. And I asked about it straight away.
“It is the temple of frozen flower” the old man replied.
Dear readers, I have travelled many parts across the globe, had seen many places, was accustomed with many cultures and religions, but never heard of anything like this before. The temple of Frozen Flower!!!! My curiosity reached at its peak and I pursued the experienced shop owner to tell me everything about the temple and its history, all of it. The old man told me the story I will never forget in my life. I am giving here the exact version of the same without giving any linguistic addition or alteration, as nothing can be more exciting than the real life itself.
" Kali and Kamal were made for each other. The sweetest soft beautiful girl was named after the small spring Kali Jhora, which circles around the small village, Kali was like the small unknown flowers that filled their small village with joy and happiness, always jumping, smiling, full of life.
Kamal Bahadur Thapa was like the mountain that protects the village from the icy wind from north. He was strong, well-built and ready to face any danger with a smile on his face. Even when he faced a pack of wolves alone with only a khukuri in his hand, everybody can swear that even then he was smiling.
The small village was their world and Kali and Kamal was its favourite child. The whole village grew up with them; the whole village danced with them, when they fall in love with each other, the whole village was present to celebrate the evening when they were engaged with a promise of even brighter future together.
It was a memorable day for them when Kamal was selected to represent the Gorkha regiment in the Royal British Army during the 2nd world war. They were worried too, and they should be as nobody among them ever stepped outside this small village to see the world, and their favourite son was going to war!!
Kamal stood tall like the mountain itself to console the entire village. He pulled out his khukuri from his belt, held it high and told;
“Don’t you worry my dear elders; there is nobody strong enough in the entire Japanese force that can stand in front of my valour. You raised me strong enough to survive the onslaught of the entire Japanese force along with their German brothers. I promise you that, I will return victorious before the water in Kali Jhora turns to ice.”
Strong words from a strong man, but his voice became soft as he mentions the name of Kali, even if it was meant with some other purpose.
Kali was proud of her love; Kali could see Kamal as larger than life itself in front of her eyes. She knew nothing about the Japan or German or even British, but all she could understand that her knight in the shining armour was going to war, and he will return victorious. She could imagine that how a king is going to be rewarded for his courage and matchless valour in the field of war. Kali could visualize the pack of enemy army is running from the battlefield, scared like that pack of wolf. Soaked in the blood of enemy and sweat, Kamal alone stood victorious in a smiling face.
Kamal left with the life force of the entire village through the windy makeshift road that the army prepared to reach the border area, Kali could not sleep that night, and countless nights after that. With every footstep, every passing sound of military truck, Kali rushed out of her room with the fresh picked flowers in her hand. The flowers she picked up with her own hand every morning, with the expectation that Kamal will return from his battlefield to accept it from her hand. She picked them every morning, and cast them every evening in the stream of Kali Jhora with a hope that the stream will carry these flowers to Kamal.
The morning really came, when Kamal indeed arrived in the huge green military truck. As always, Kali rushed towards the truck with flowers in her hand, her heart skipped a bit as she saw Kamal was looking down from the truck with his familiar innocent smile.
Kamal became famous already within his regiment for his courage and daredevil attitude. All his colleagues greeted Kali as sister and picked her up in the truck for a stroll. The carriage was filled with laughter and cheers. It was a short ride, but Kali felt it is going for ever as she was dying to spend time together with Kamal. She wanted Kamal alone for a few moments.
They left the truck at least a mile before their village and walked the whole road while returning. None of them mentioned what happen during their walk together, but Kali seemed extra red as they reached, and Kamal was unusually talkative and unmindful as he was looking at Kali at every opportunity.
The village celebrated the returning of their hero. Kamal already got a field promotion for his courageous act in the battlefield and even praised by the white skinned general personally. The whole village gathered together that night surrounding the community fire and was grasping every word, every description Kamal was saying about the war. They felt that the act of war was happening in front of their eyes and their blood started to boil. The night was cold; even then nobody left for inside, instead they replaced Kamal with themselves and started visualizing the war in vivid imagination.
Kali laughed with every silly joke Kamal told during his deliberation, looked scared when Kamal described the flight of deadly Mitsubishi, but above all she seemed soaked in love. The wavy light of the wooden fire created a beautiful painting of a happy big family surrounding the entire village as its member.
All good things end quickly, so did Kamal’s leave. He left for the field again, but promised to return with at least a whole month’s leave this time, so he could finally marry Kali. Kali turned red, but her eyes followed the disappearing trail of the big carriage that took away his Kamal to a distant land. Her eyes kept on following the road even when the truck was long gone.
From the very next day, it became a regular routine for Kali to wait for Kamal in the road side with fresh picked flowers. But this time she could find a more practical way to send them to her love. She waited for Kamal in every carriage, and when she could not find him in that, she run beside it so she could give the flowers to every extended hand of soldiers. When her hand was empty, then she quickly returned to replenish them. She handed over every flower with a silent prayer in her eyes, “Please tell my Kamal that his Kali is waiting for him with flowers in her hand.”
Days passed in months and to years, but Kamal never returned. Few army men arrived at their village with ‘Missing in action’ notice, but Kali never left hope. Every morning she handpicked fresh flowers, waited patiently beside the road on that square rock, with a hope that this truck will surely bring Kamal back, Kamal will laugh and will pick her up in the carriage. She kept on giving every soldier a flower each, to carry her message to her love, to Kamal. For day and night she waited, and became the part of landscape itself.
Decades passed by, the war and the army changed its name and banner, but two things never changed: The waiting of Kali for Kamal’s return and the military truck carrying many more Kamals to the battlefield. Kali could now hardly stands straight, but still she holds her hands straight with the bouquet of flowers, the trucks surely stops beside her, and few lucky soldiers receives the flowers from her hand. The love of Kali and devotion for Kamal turns her into a legend now, and it is told that whoever receives flower from her hand, will return to her Kali un-harmed from the battlefield.
It was during the Indo-China war, the road suddenly became very important due to its strategic location. The road became the busiest one, and throughout the day and night military carriages started running towards the border. Along with the road, Kali also became very busy, now for day and night. Without fail she attends every convoy with the expectation of Kamal’s arrival with flowers in her hand.
That year the winter seemed merciless. The temperature of the war was at its peak, but the nature was exact opposite to that. The windy chill froze the entire Kali jhora and the hills surrounding it, but the flowers kept on blooming for Kali to pick them up. The villagers requested Kali to stop her obsession, at least till the weather got better, but by that time she became a symbol of love, hope and luck. A simple village woman became a goddess of hope to many,
The village will remember that night like the night they spent with Kamal. The blizzard covered the entire road with thick snow, and even the four wheeler military trucks, wrapping barbwire in their wheels could not manage to get past the snow. That night the whole village could not sleep due to the bite of the cold and was waiting for the night to be over.
The unmistakable roar of the truck stopped beside their village. Few of them could see the shadow of Kali slowly proceeding towards the truck. It was exactly the same truck that brought their son back from the field of battle years ago. They could even hear the sound of laughter and cheers as Kali reached the truck. The singing of joy and enthusiasm filled the chilly winter with warmth of love.
The villagers stepped outside their houses to see Kali boarding the truck with a bunch of flowers exactly as she did years ago. The heavy truck slowly disappears from their sight carrying Kali in it. And with it the wind increased, it’s howling and chills pushed the resident of that village inside.
The next morning, once the sky got clear, they found Kali on that small square rock, frozen in the snow along with her flowers. She looked so beautiful even in that condition that she almost looked like the frozen flowers in her hand. A mystique smile in her face shows that she was in peace when her life left her body to ultimately join with Kamal’s.
Kali remains as a symbol of hope and a promise to return for many of the soldiers. They made a small temple surrounding her final resting place and covered it with flowers. The nature also covered the entire area with flowers, which sometimes froze from the toughness of the weather, but never lost its glory. The army men covered her tomb everyday with fresh flowers and pick up the old one to distribute among themselves with a hope to return. "
I know the ending of the story even before it began. But something sweet melancholy tune was in the story that made me engrossed for the whole time. I left the shop to return to the temple once again. During my travel I heard many stories similar to this, only the names were different, but the pain and the sufferings were same. But I found something new in this, it was hope. It was something new. It gave me hope last night and it will keep on giving to countless others after that. And for that I am grateful to the goddess of ‘Frozen flower’.
I picked up a blue orchid beside the temple, placed it on the square rock, picked up an old one and started my journey forward leaving the love of Kali and Kamal behind with a promise to return.
...........The End.............
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