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- Apr 5, 2005
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This is the replica of Wondering Knife by Purna Kami.
Overall length --12''
Weight --13 oz
Traditional scabbard
Horn handle
$125.
In a beautiful village set atop a Himalayan hillside there lived an ancient and wise old gorkha soldier who had long since outlived his old comrades, friends, his beloved wife of 55 years and even his two lovely daughters and a good part of his extended family. He had seen and done much in his long life. Had left his beautiful village for long periods of border patrol, relief efforts and his assigned duties had left their mark in all the sunbaked, frostbitten and weathered crags of his aged old face and body. At 98 years of age he had pretty much been stout and able up until the last spring when he began to feel all the tired years gaining ground on him. His family seldom came to the beautiful little village anymore....with all the passing years, circumstance and tragedy. He had often wondered if they had just forgotten about him or assumed that he had passed long ago.
The Village had not forgotten.
The beautiful village that he grew up in and had lived all his life in. Had lived the both happy and sometimes tragic life of a family man and lifelong soldier. He had raised his two girls there. He and his wife had enjoyed many family and community celebrations in this tiny village. They had attended many weddings and many funerals in this place. He had protected this village his entire life and had always helped to keep the village peaceful and prosperous. Many in the village admired him for his years of service, sacrifice and help.
When his mind and body began to falter his neighbors and friends noticed. As he declined further over the summer they had taken care of his needs, tended both property and health for him and cared for him around the clock as if he were their own grandfather. He felt truly blessed that fate had provided loving care for him at this end stage of his long life.
The wise old gorkha, besides his old house and property, the assortment of commendations and medals and pictures of his wife and daughters, only really had one other possession of worth. A khukuri that had been passed to him by his father. One with a distinctive kaudi (cho), shaped like a bat chamara. All the blood from hunting or butchering gathers there, true to a bats nature and much like the bat, this khukuri is swift,strong and sharp as a bats teeth...able to pierce almost anything.
As he did not have any heirs left to pass this khukuri to, he was at odds on just what to do with it now that he was about to walk out of this life and hopefully into his next. There were so many that had helped him and provided for him over these many months... surely he didn't know which one should have it over the other. He could not decide who to leave this priceless khukuri to.
Then the wise old gorkha had an idea. An idea that for many years would have him fondly remembered in that beautiful village. An idea that would also continue to serve his community and friends and their heirs in his absence.
The day before the wise old gorkha passed from this life into the bardo, he left that khukuri to the next village elder with the instruction that it be given to any traveling family or person of that village that needed its protection on their way and that it always, on their honesty, be returned to the village once it belonged. So that it may continue to serve its people.
The khukuri spent many years going back and forth all over the kingdom of Nepal. Providing escort as its owner had intended. It logged nearly twice as many miles as the old gorkha and had seen several lifetimes already. At some point a villager had given it the name of "Wandering Khukuri" because of all the travels it had been on and all it had seen. Who is to say that the old Khukuri didn't pick up some wisdoms of it's own along the way?
Email to himimp@aol.com to order
First come first served
Overall length --12''
Weight --13 oz
Traditional scabbard
Horn handle
$125.
In a beautiful village set atop a Himalayan hillside there lived an ancient and wise old gorkha soldier who had long since outlived his old comrades, friends, his beloved wife of 55 years and even his two lovely daughters and a good part of his extended family. He had seen and done much in his long life. Had left his beautiful village for long periods of border patrol, relief efforts and his assigned duties had left their mark in all the sunbaked, frostbitten and weathered crags of his aged old face and body. At 98 years of age he had pretty much been stout and able up until the last spring when he began to feel all the tired years gaining ground on him. His family seldom came to the beautiful little village anymore....with all the passing years, circumstance and tragedy. He had often wondered if they had just forgotten about him or assumed that he had passed long ago.
The Village had not forgotten.
The beautiful village that he grew up in and had lived all his life in. Had lived the both happy and sometimes tragic life of a family man and lifelong soldier. He had raised his two girls there. He and his wife had enjoyed many family and community celebrations in this tiny village. They had attended many weddings and many funerals in this place. He had protected this village his entire life and had always helped to keep the village peaceful and prosperous. Many in the village admired him for his years of service, sacrifice and help.
When his mind and body began to falter his neighbors and friends noticed. As he declined further over the summer they had taken care of his needs, tended both property and health for him and cared for him around the clock as if he were their own grandfather. He felt truly blessed that fate had provided loving care for him at this end stage of his long life.
The wise old gorkha, besides his old house and property, the assortment of commendations and medals and pictures of his wife and daughters, only really had one other possession of worth. A khukuri that had been passed to him by his father. One with a distinctive kaudi (cho), shaped like a bat chamara. All the blood from hunting or butchering gathers there, true to a bats nature and much like the bat, this khukuri is swift,strong and sharp as a bats teeth...able to pierce almost anything.
As he did not have any heirs left to pass this khukuri to, he was at odds on just what to do with it now that he was about to walk out of this life and hopefully into his next. There were so many that had helped him and provided for him over these many months... surely he didn't know which one should have it over the other. He could not decide who to leave this priceless khukuri to.
Then the wise old gorkha had an idea. An idea that for many years would have him fondly remembered in that beautiful village. An idea that would also continue to serve his community and friends and their heirs in his absence.
The day before the wise old gorkha passed from this life into the bardo, he left that khukuri to the next village elder with the instruction that it be given to any traveling family or person of that village that needed its protection on their way and that it always, on their honesty, be returned to the village once it belonged. So that it may continue to serve its people.
The khukuri spent many years going back and forth all over the kingdom of Nepal. Providing escort as its owner had intended. It logged nearly twice as many miles as the old gorkha and had seen several lifetimes already. At some point a villager had given it the name of "Wandering Khukuri" because of all the travels it had been on and all it had seen. Who is to say that the old Khukuri didn't pick up some wisdoms of it's own along the way?
Email to himimp@aol.com to order
First come first served
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