Balm for Harm
By Govinda Pyakurel
This is the first of two special dispatches by two of our members, one of whom we know well and and the other of whom is a newer member of the Re/Creation collective. Both of these amazing writers (and people!) are residents at the Exodus Transitional Community facility in Fresh Meadows, Queens for people coming home from incarceration. In fact, both will attest that without the safe space provided by Exodus, with a room of their own in which to live, write, and recover from the trauma of criminal punishment, they would not be in the position to share their words with us. With this in mind, both of them wanted to write dispatches about their experiences with Exodus. The first is by the newest part of our collective, Govinda Pyakurel, whose work we’re publishing for the first (but undoubtedly not last) time here.
Every canonical teaching tells us true humanity comes in the form of selfless help, especially for those in dire need. But unfortunately, it is often hard to connect this sanctified essence with the modern way of life. As our diverse demography becomes dense with unknown faces cramped together, many talented but uncontentious individuals are left behind charred by the flame of fierce competition. For the majority, this competition is merely a game of maintaining the upper hand. For those of us charred, it is a matter of life and death.
The greatest asset of my personal life is that I am a nonviolent and simple man. I respect and honor each individual’s existence in this world. Sometimes the situation boils up to an unendurable level, but I remind myself that dawn is inevitable after the darkness of the night. New York fascinates me. The ever-cool climatic atmosphere, the diverse demography, the assorted cultural mix, the get-it-done attitude of the people, and even the subway trains, about everything in New York enthralls me. Maybe that was why I have attempted to settle in New York City since 2005 but failed miserably at every attempt.
When I was in the lockup, languishing forgotten in Rikers Island jail, I had no one to help or support me. My own people, including my lawyer, were alienated from me as the pandemic intensified. Taking this back to the larger political perspective, I am describing the horror of being locked up in a place where everyone around you is sick. There is no one there for you; your only recourse is to cover your face and cry.
I didn’t fit in any white, black, or Hispanic category. Demographically, I was absolutely “other” and alone in the jail facility. My upbringing stops me from creating friendships easily which helps those looking to pin me as an isolated, uprooted person without community ties. My own lawyer several times said to my face, “You have no apartment, no family or friends in New York, and you cannot even demonstrate that you would return to court dates because of lack of stable housing.”
My immigration odyssey had been unexpectedly lengthy and tortuous. It took me fifteen years to earn my green card. During this difficult immigration journey, while confronting day-to-day living, I developed an alcohol problem. I didn’t pay much attention to it was too late.
In December 2019 I had an extremely unlucky day. I was severely intoxicated when they arrested me, foisting some loathsome charges. Until now I have been fighting those charges.
All these elements show the dearth of my residency they used against my release on bail. They perceived me as a flight risk. I spent a year in jail—equivalent to the maximum sentence of my misdemeanor charge. Ironically, I found later that these things transpired because of my lawyer’s poor understanding of the newly amended Bail Reform Law. I didn’t cave in to the ill-intentioned guilty plea carrying far-reaching immigration repercussions.
Nothing is permanent in the world. No matter how egregious things are, they are bound to change. If there are demons, there are rescuer angels, too.
On November 20, 2020, Exodus, a New York based nonprofit, came to my jail door extending its selfless hands. Ms. Carman Arroyo, Alternative to Incarceration (ATI) director of Exodus, appeared at my court hearing on November 20, advocating before the judge that Exodus would take care of my housing needs. It was a significant commitment made for someone she didn’t know. Anticipating the fact of stable housing after release, the judge lowered my bail from twenty-five thousand to five thousand.
When I came out of Rikers jail, I had nothing but the jail issued shirt and pants on my body. The friendly staff of Exodus gave me everything from toothbrushes, toothpaste, new clothing, a MetroCard, food, doctor’s care, or everything that a beggar in the street might need to start a new life. It was like being in parental protection; such a relief from harrowing worries to hope and prospect of a better future.
Exodus persuaded me not to forget the big picture of life. They showed me not to lose dignity while facing adversity. I wouldn’t have been able to come back to a life so soon, if they hadn’t provided me with stable housing and other exigencies. The amazing part is that they did it with an open heart and without anything in return; no tradeoff of any kind. I think this great outlook represents American greatness at its core.
They released me from jail on November 23, 2020. Since then, I have been living in a motel room provided by Exodus in Fresh Meadows, Queens. And with the help of Exodus’s connections with permanent housing, I am now able to move into stable housing within the month.
Govinda Pyakurel is a writer. He has self-published two novels through Amazon. The first one was published in 2014, titled “Camden.” The second one was published in September 2021 featuring Rikers Island jail and the title of which is “The Bail”. He has also been publishing short stories with a title “Confronting the Unbreakable”, which is a recurring episode, through the new platform called Kindle Vella on Amazon.
Govinda Pyakurel was born and grew up in Nepal. He earned his bachelor’s in law from Tribhuvan University of Nepal and practiced law for fourteen years. He came to the US in 2004 and now he lives in Queens, New York.