さようなら(GoodBye) 2010

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The 31536000 seconds of 2010 passed away and now I’m waiting for next 31536000 seconds of 2011. The first time I calculated the seconds of an English calendar year was 12 years back when Nepal was celebrating Visit Nepal 1998. That was the first time I notice the joy of saying goodbye to those 31.5 million seconds. I have some glimpse of those days. It was the year when my brother was appearing an SLC exam. I was kicked out from the room so that he could read without any disturbance. The pain of losing my favorite bed was fresh but soon I started enjoying out of my room life. My chatterbox attitude was not welcomed in the house in SLC season so I started spending more time outside. Our village was on the major trekking route. The foot trails of our village used to welcome hundreds of tourist every day. From dawn to dusk we used to sit on the stone wall by the trails watching tourist passed by. Sometime we dared to show our Boarding School’s English. Our favorite dialogue was “Hello, give me pen”. And if we were lucky we could get chocolates and pen. One day the group of European tourist came to our school and distributes chocolates to students. They gave a short speech in the school assembly. Their English was so complex that my Boarding School’s English grammar couldn't understand a single word. Later that night my brother told me they were at our school to celebrate New Year 1998. And the importance of 31.5 millions seconds struck in my mind. I started to count every second of 1998 so that on Jan 1st 1999 another group of European would come and give us sweet chocolates. Another reason I remember the year ‘98 was because it was the year I got bald seeing a guy in TV. Yes it was France 98, and Ronaldo rocked my world. And how could I forget those starving three days after the final. 2000, the beginning of the new millennium. It was the year I saw Amir Khan dance in TV saying ‘Dekho 2000 jamana aagaya’.

Five year later in the winter of 2059, I was locked in the same room as it was my turn to appear the Iron Gate. We were giving pre-send-up test, it was Friday; we bunked the school and went for shopping greeting cards in Nagdanda. I got 12 Rani Mukharjee’s Greeting Card. A Week Later when the result of pre-send-up came out 8 of our friends failed the exam. That was the most expensive New Year I spend with Rani Mukharjee.

As I played the reel of last 12 months I hardly find a reason to say さようなら2010(a little Jap I learned in my college). On the verge of celebrating another visit Nepal, 12 years later I’m finding little hard to bid goodbye to my last 12 months i.e. last 31.5 million seconds. The year I complete my college, the year I became the software programmer, the year I learned to swim, the year Chelsea won Barkley’s Premier league, the year Kevin Petersen and his men retain Ashes, the year I spend another starving 3 days after Brazil lost to Netherland in Quarterfinals of 2010 World Cup and how can I say goodbye 2010. I know 2011 won’t give me chocolates, 2011 won’t give me Rani Mukharjee’s greeting card so why should I welcome 2011. Despite this the little thing I did to welcome 2011. I went to Baneswor Chowk had my favorites street kitchen’s mo:mo and sausage. My bad luck sayapali was finished. Bought George Clooney’s The American, came to my room, logged in facebook and updated my status” i love u 2010, but u'll be gone when i wake tomorrow morning, i wish if u could come back again in my life, but how could u? so goodbye,i hate to welcome 2011.... i dont like new thing, but in 2012 i'll miss u too”. And I was roaming with George Clooney in some part of Italy in my New Year eve when the rest of the world is counting 9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 0
HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011.



Flashback to '95

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It was a foggy morning when I woke up from my bed rubbing my eyes. The ladder that descends down to the backyard of my house was made up of half stone and the remaining half of wood. I’ve observed the wooden part washed up by downpour every monsoon been gradually changing its color to grayish with black spots. The stone paved backyard was like some greenish skiing court due to all those algae grown in the monsoon. I almost did back somersault while entering kitchen through our little skiing court.

I was drinking tea directly from the kettle when mom entered kitchen with a Gaauri full of water in her waist. My disgusting behavior was enough for her to start her long lecture.


“You stupid” she put down Gaauri and shows her frustration by putting her hands in her forehead.
“Hare Shiva, when will you be grow up” she lit the Bio-gas and placed the kettle in the fire. “Go and wash your face first, have shame on yourself you donkey” she pushed me out of the kitchen. I was in the Tap by the side of front yard before mom finishes her lecture.

“Oie Ramesh” there was a call from the road. “See there are Chayngra and sheep coming from the Fera, let’s go” I was just splashing water in my face when Upen called me.

Mom heard him in the kitchen and came out scolding “Don’t you have any work, when you have time you roam here and there like a street dog and when school resume cry like a pig ”

I hide myself by the Marigold’s tree and slowly reached the road by kneeling down. I dried my face with the help of my shirts sleeves. Shit my bad luck. Mom saw me.

“You donkey don’t you want a tea, wait I’ll tell dad” and she entered inside.

We ran away that means I borrowed the loan from dad; loan of scolding. Dad had never beaten us so I was ready to sacrifice my tea for first heard of Sheep of a Dashain. Our house was by the old foot trail that was regular route of sheep transport from Mustang, Tibet and Dolpa to Pokhara. We ascend the hill to reach Fera; it was a around 6:30am, in the east the sky above Sarangkot was red while in the south-east the fog had completely engulfed Pokhara valley so there was not a glimpse of Fewa lake. But in the North last night’s snowfall in Machhapuchre had converted the black and white fishtail mountain into a white one.

We were overjoyed to see flock of sheep and chyangra after one year. We watched them from the stone wall by the side of the road. Time and again we tried to touch the long and curley horn of Chyangra.

“What is the cost for the best one Ista?” Upen asked. People used to call Sherpa’s; the owner of the flock Ista.

“What you want to buy Sheep or Chyangra?” Ista asked. “It’s 27 hundred for sheep and 32 hundred for a Chyangra”. We were proud that Ista thought that we were there to buy Chyangra.

”It’s too expensive Ista for a Dolpali Chyangra, yesterday my father bought Mustange chyangra in two thousand” Upen tried to be smart.

“Oh I see”, Ista pointed his finger to the roof of a house by the road. “You see there, in the roof, I think that is the Chyangra your father bought in two thousand” he was pointing to red pumpkins arranged in the line on the roof of house. I laughed at Upen, he felt awkward so didn’t utter a word. We started to chase Chyangra. “Osshh osshh osshh osshh”.

My whole morning was gone chasing black, white and gray Chyangra. I was home at 10am. Dad was in the front porch talking with our neighbor and mom was cleaning pots and pans.


“Did you finish the vacation homework?” Dad asked as I reached our front yard. “Yes, I finished 10 subjects and now just 3 more to go”. I told a lie, I had just finished 3 subjects and had 10 more to go. That was the only way to get a clean cheat from dad.

“I’d checked his copy, he had just finished 3 of them” My brother shouted from the veranda.

The color of my chicks changed to red and my ear started ringing. Dad glared at me, the wrinkle appeared in his forehead and his eyes grew bigger. The cold chill went through my back and his look made me about to pee in my shorts.

“You donkey, don’t you need to read” he grumbled. “You can’t leave the house until you finish your homework”. I stayed there nodding in front of dad.

“Why are you nodding here like a cock eating a salt? Go and do your homework”. I was about to climb the ladder when mom called me for the lunch. Thanks mom for your kindness coz my belly was really in need of milk and rice.

I waited all day hoping dad to leave the house so that I can go and chase chyangra, but dad never left the house. I never saw dad whole day at the house before but that day everything were happening for the first time. I opened my books during a daytime for the first time and pretended doing homework but my ears were in road listening to “osshh osshh osshh” of Ista’s and eyes were in front porch looking for dad’s image to vanish which never happened.


After 15 years:

A vibration on my cell phone waked me up. I grabbed my mobile and checked my inbox. The message reads like this “No Archie’s card 2 give, no sweet flowers to send, no cute graphics to parcel. Just a good wish saying ‘happy vijaya dashami 067’”. It was around half past six and I was having a silent sleep after finishing 2 months long and tiring exam the day before. This beep in my cell certainly did disturb me but the warm wish on the very morning on the first day of Vijaya Dashami was something to cherish. I got up from my bed and turned on my computer, played mangal dhun in my PC and signed in facebook. 15 notification, 3 dashain gift and 5 message all about welcoming Dashain and wishing happy Dashain. My morning went in front of PC and later that day I called my friend and we went for a shopping. I bought a ticket to travel back home and a new shirt. Next morning I was out of Kathmandu on my way home. After 9hrs of long and tiring journey I was at home. Mom was preparing for growing Jamara. People used to cultivate jamara seeing the moom of second day of NauDurga.


“Yea!!! You’re home!!!” Mom got surprised seeing me. “At what time did you start your journey? Why didn’t you call us? Was there Jam in the road?.......”. Long list of questionnaire were thrown on me as I was silently searching for flocks of Chyangra up above on Fera.

The Rolpa Boy II

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“Sagar sari chokho maya timilai diula, yo jaayna le saath diye timi sangai jieula……”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh here starts The Rooftop Religious Concert of my lunatic neighbor”
This song took half of my sleep and I was half dreaming when I move my hands over the bed to search my cell phone.
“Oh shit!!!” My half dreaming sleep was gone when I see clock ticking just 5:30 am. “What the heck he wants? I’m gonna kill that bastard” I woke up and hurried to the window to close window pan.
“Nabirse timilai napaye timilai, bina artha dil ma sajaye timilai……………”And there was another unplugged version of Anju Pant’s songs. I then realized the previous one was not “Om jai jagadish hare” or “Buddham saranam gacchami”. I was confused. “Why this psyco playing love songs today”. When I reached the window I saw my Boys Next Door Mr. Hukum Thapa putting clothes in the fence and singing Anju Pant’s songs playing with fence wire.
“Oie Psyco, will you stop to decorate(Sajauni) or should I decorate you in Pashupati Aryaghat” I was furious at him. I slept late that night after Chelsea’s nightmare game in Carling Cup Group stage and the memory of that game also catalyzed for increasing the anger.
“Why Ramesh Dai?” he was smiling at me with his black and yellow teeth. “This is loktantra and I can sing anything I like and anywhere I like hahahahaha”. He started to grin at me. He looked like a yellow yellow dirty fellow cow of Orbit White Chewing Gum TV Ad. I returned to the bed and closed my ears with pillow. He started another one “Beni ko bazzar ra jata maya utai cha najara”. I didn’t know how long did it take me to catch another wink but my cell phone was showing 6:30am in its screensaver when “Jai santoshi mata om jai santoshi mata” nudged me.

After a long try I got another wink and the next nudge was at 9:30am when Kids next home (National Academy School’s Kid) chanted “Sayeu thunga phool ka hami eutai mala nepali”. I realized it is time to wake up because there is no possibility to sleep unless you are epic character Khumbakarna. The PT Drill’s Drum, Dance Practice in Kunti Moktan’s “Kati maya lagcha re dhungri mundri ko” and Math’s table recitation in Grade 2 “2 one ja 2, 2 two ja 4……”. And more than that I had exam the next day. So now it was time to keep study going.

The day with bulk of books, complex definition, hi-fi programming codes, blood pressure stimulating flow charts and noisy neighborhood of dogs and kindergarten kids. By twilight you become a feather in “Free Fall Experiment in Vacuum” energy less, desperate. What you want is a sound sleep. But day that started with the musical beats was not definitely gonna ends that much easily. I was watching TV and trying to get some sleep.
“Tak Tak” there was the knock on the door so I answered the call. It was my neighbor, SLC’s 40%, Mr. Thapa.
“I need your help with my study”
“Ok, Come inside” I welcomed him in. He opened the books and started to ask question.
“Dai, how do you pronounce A.L.B.E.R.T E.I.N.S.T.E.I.N”
“All Bert Aye inst tine” I tried to make the pronunciation sound more like a Nepali word.
“What type of name is this? Aa in sta ni , hahahahahahah” his dirty fellow style laugh got into my nerve.
“He is the father of modern physics, a great scientist and the greatest man of 20th century, you were supposed to know him.”
He is in class 12 and how could he not know Albert Einstein. I was switching channel to find something worthy to watch. While changing channel I happened to switch TV FILMY GOPIKRISHNA’s test transmission and guess what he jumped off from his seat and started to sing along with Biraj Bhatta “Maile tei bhayera maan parako” I was confused which one to watch, live show or the recorded one in TV. The song ended and thanks god the next one on the playlist was “Chor Bazari”.
“Shit bro, dhoti songs are bullshit, change the channel”
I was knocked out by his regards. I was in no mood to start another debate so I just obeyed his orders. The chat program in Sagarmatha TV drew my attention because one of the attendants was MP from our district.
“The only problem here is the presence of two ideologies i.e. Marxism and Capitalism, but not about our candidate staying in the election” said one attendant.
“Hello Sociologist”, I called Hukum. “You know what is Marxism or Capitalism; it’s your field buddy”
“Who cares?” he laughed again. “I don’t know who is the MP of my region, how could I know who is Marx or Capital” he explained.
“You’re the student of Sociology, you ought to know Marx and keep in mind Capital is not a person” I replied.
“If I become a politician then I’ll know” he replied with a smile.
“You must know before you become a politician” I tried to cleared the doubt in his mind. “Politics is about driving a country to the better future if you are not the good driver then the country becomes like ours”.
“haha driver” he laughed. “I’m SLC pass I’ll make a good driver, better than our 601 thumbstamp ”
I thought that there are not only 601 insane drivers in our country but there are millions of insane passengers like our Mr. SLC pass who are making the mockery of this country. I won’t be amazed if I saw the Rolpa Boy as one of the driver in future. This idiotic conversation went for 15 minutes. When I locked the door saying good night to my neighbor VH1 was playing Phil Collin’s “Another Day in Paradise”. I turned the lights off and tried to get a nap hoping to wake up another day in paradise.















पहिचान

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भावसुन्य मस्तिष्क बोकि
हिँडिरहेकोछु
आफ्नै पहिचान खोज्दै
सडक, गल्ली र बस्तीहरुमा
अन्धकार गल्ली
अनकन्टार बस्ती
अनि
दिग्भर्मित सडक
आफैमा हराइरहेछन्
पहिचानको खोजिमा
भौतारिरहेछन्
जिवनयापनका लागि

निराश मन बोकि
लड्खडाइरहेको छु
आफ्नै परिभाषा खोज्दै
गाँऊ, पाखा र भन्ज्याङ्हरुमा
शोकाकुल गाँऊ
रक्ताम्य पाखा
अनि
चिहानमा रुपान्तरित भन्ज्याङ्हरु
आफैमा रोइरहेछन्
परिभाषाको पुनर्लेखनको लागि
लड्खडाइरहेछन्
अस्तित्व रछ्याको लागि

स्तब्ध आत्मा बोकि
लत्रिरहेछु
गन्तब्य बिहिन दोबाटोमा
विचार हराएको म
आफ्नै परिभाषाको खोजिमा
सोचिरहेछु
मेरो पहिचान निरन्तर
किनकी
म विचारसुन्य भएको छु
मेरो आस्था मरिएको छ
अनि
कैद गरिएका छन्
मेरा अपरिचित विवेकहरु

A Evening at the Tea Shop

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(Based on true story but the characters are fictions)

There might be many motives to be in “Roadside Tea Shop” but the common thing that we prefer to say ourselves is “Let’s have a cup of tea”. Yesterday was not the different day. After a tiring day with Colouris’s Distributed System I wanted to have a cup of tea, I called my GRE freaked friends and by 6:30 we were in The Roadside Tea Shop. Simple setting with 2 sets of wooden diner and a white dolphin sets. A shopkeeper in his mid thirties, small, with black beard and fat belly is not an interesting guy nor is his tea. Despite that irritating face and tasteless tea it is our routine to be in that Tea Shop. We ordered 3 cup of lemon tea.

“Let’s have a sip of tea” Sam sweetens his face as if some alcoholic is hunting the beer glass.
“Sip of tea” I laughed.”Where did that came from huh, I think that thing in the glass is not Royal Stag”.
As we know for guys like us the only that will catalyze us for English chat is Royal Stag (sometime Khukuri rum can play the trick)
“It’s GRE!!! Boy” Rob smirked at me and with a confident look at his eye he said “And for your reference we don’t drink anymore”.
“See who is saying this, hahaha” I giggled. “I know you left drinking for dozens times in the past”
“This time” Sam pointed the index finger at me and after a little pause he grumbled “it’s true”. He utter that word “TRUE” as if he was telling something true for the first time in his life, slammed the table and take a sip of tea. I and Rob were shocked by his dipsomaniac act so we stared at him without a blink.
“What? Common guys, It’s just a lemon tea” Sam stammered, eyes wide open.
“I thought it was Royal Stag” And the loud laughter burst out in the Roadside Tea Shop.

Rob and Sam made themselves busy with their GRE memorizing some silly words. I was sitting on the dolphin chair at the corner along with my lemonade tea and trying to remember some of my Colouris’s definitions.
“Why are you silent Orthodox guy?” Rob hit me.
I smiled (sarcastically)”Why you saying me an Orthodox? Can you explain?”
“Orthodox: believing and following all the traditional belief, laws and practices of religion” he recited the meaning of Orthodox. “So you are Orthodox” They give five to each other and laughed.
“My ass, Orthodox” I shouted. “I know some English, don’t try to fool me, at least use your stupid GRE somewhere relevant”
“Who cares Bro, all we care is remembering a word” Rob laughed. “By the way Sam, what is the synonym for stupid?”
“mmmmmmmmm” Sam tried to remember.
“Idiot” I told.
“That’s too simple, it’s not GRE” Rob again laughed.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Sam shouted as if there was a fire in his ass. “I forgot it man, I learned it just this morning”
“Never mind” Rob smiled. “We gonna find it tonight and use it for you Kailash”
Sam raised his glass to make a toast and we joined with ours “To our own stupid Kailash”
I was freaked out. “Assholes” I muttered.
I raised my glass “To you assholes” I paused to think some word more relevant than asshole “mmmmm assholes, that’s fine and to your asshole GRE” they laughed at me but that was ok for me. I drank the remaining tea in a sip.
“I think you can define me, ‘What is Asshole?’ can you Sam?” I winked at Sam.
“Wait, I can” Sam nodded. “It’s a hole in a part of body that you sit on”
“Aaaahahahahaha Aaaaaahahahaha Aaaaaaahahahaha” And the loud laughter burst out again.

It was about 7:30 PM, time to hit our rooms. “Hey Rob, move your fat ass, it’s time to leave” I chuckled and punched on his arm.
“Don’t dare to punch my machho arms again.” He yelled. “You don’t know how many bottles of Carlsberg I have emptied to make this big”. He pulled his t-shirt up and showed his fatty arms.
“What?” I winked. “That dialogue is from a Nepali movie, so you started to watch Nepali movie, good for you man”
“What’s good in watching Nepali movie?” Sam said. “Look we spent 700 to watch that movie and I lost whole day, now I don’t even remember the synonym of “stupid”, damn it”
“Really, Sam,” I laughed. “You should watch English movie to increase your vocabulary, not Nepali movie, and especially not with somebody’s girlfriends”.
“Hey, she is not somebody’s girlfriend. She is our friends, but god gifted her with girlish character” he chuckled. “But not voice”
“Her voice isn’t that bad” Sam lowered his tone. He looked as if he was lost somewhere. I think he was trying to remember the meaning of stupid.
“I got an idea man” Sam said casually. “We need to watch English movie, let’s go and get one”
“English movie won’t help me with AI, Distributed System or NP, so I need to head home guys” I bid goodbye and walked away.

“Goodbye, goofy” Sam yelled from the other side of road. He finally remembered the synonym of stupid. I smiled and wend my way home.



Insignificant 23

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Gandhi said that “whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it's very important that you do it. Because nobody else will”. That’s what I’m thinking now. Trying to do something insignificant, something nobody else will do or have done. I don’t think any of you got a clue what I’m talking about; don’t worry I’ll tell you. By 23, Gandhi had 3 kids; Mozart, 37 symphonies; Nadal, 41 titles; Messi, FIFA player of the year and here I am …………...(I also don’t know). Yes I’m 23 and I’m not that much genius that I could think of an insignificant deed. And about above paragraph anyone less genius then me also can find out that I stole it from a movie, but not all of it. I believe in open source so a little modification can make my work original.

Yesterday my mood was not really into cooking so I went to Baneshwor Chowk. The street kitchens are being popular these days and personally I am the great fan of street foods. Last time when I went for street food I had a horrible experience. Some stupid gal threw her trash in my foot. That was crazy. I was afraid that same thing might go again but it was just some other day. That day her apologies couldn’t cheer me up. But today one thing is bringing smile in my face i.e. she was celebrating her 23rd birthday with friends.

World Cricket League Division 4: Nepal lost to Tanzania and USA so it couldn’t qualify for Division 3. The hope of whole nation to see our team in world cup was shattered on the very moment Nepal lost to Tanzania in group stage when they couldn’t chase the minuscule target of 118. Despite that Nepal won an insignificant match i.e. 3rd place playoff with 10 wickets against same Tanzania. After the tournament I went through the profile of every team. And to my surprise ours was the youngest team in the tournament and the average age was 23 yrs.

Last week I got an invitation of facebook fan page named “Martyrs of Nepal”. Though I knew the most part of the story about four Martyrs of BS 1997, I read the post. And Gangalal Shrestha really swept my feet off. When I went through his Biography I was amused. How could he give his life for the insignificant cause named Democracy? Insignificant in a sense that nothing has happened in last 60 years of democratic regime. On Kartik 15, 1997, he and Dasharath Chand were shot dead in front of Shobha Bhagwati. And guess what he was 23 yrs old.

These insignificant 23’s are driving me crazy. As Gandhi said that whatever you do in life will be insignificant, so was that girl’s apologies, so was Nepal’s win, and so was Martyrdom of Gangalal. And today it’s 23rd August, so here comes another insignificant post INSIGNIFICANT 23.

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