It's a Wonderland

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She was standing in the coffee bar and staring at me. Her absurd gaze made be uncomfortable so I just turned around to escape from her. She was in no mood to give up. She walked to me with her coffee in her hand.
“Can I join you”, she asked with ease.
I was in no mood to have a company but how could I refuse a beautiful lady. So I just nodded.
“Are you expecting someone”, she asked, acting like carefree girl
“Not exactly”, I replied. And after a little pause I continued “Actually I was expecting some beautiful lady to turn on me and here you are”. I acted like a nerd and started to sip a coffee. She couldn’t help but smile. Now it was her time to feel uncomfortable. She tried to hide her face but my gazes were so fixed on her that she couldn’t remain without blushing.
“Damn it!! How can a girl be so beautiful when flushed?”
She tried to start a conversation but I was so busy enjoying her flushed face that her mouth remained open without making any sound. She started to mend her hair but the cool breeze from the lake was not letting her gather them. She tried twice and quickly realized there is someone who is enjoying the splendid combination of cool midnight breeze and the hair so she let it go.
Is every evening on the Lakeside so romantic? Hell no.
I went for a minute or more observing the surprise package in front of me and sipping a coffee without uttering a single word.
She looked around and stood up.
“Yes!! I got you”
A delay of a sec and I might have lost her. But how could I? So I broke the ice.
“Kailash”
“What?”
“My name”, I smiled.”Kailash, it’s my name”
“Oh”. She just stood there acting like she cares no more. God, these girls are an open can of worms. A moment ago she was desperate to get an attention and now when she has one she’s already finding a way to ask for more.
“You can join me”. I tried to flirt again. “By the way it was you who made my day”
“I think you are better left with your coffee”
“It’s not the coffee”, I gave a shot. “It was pretty lady in front of me who kept me silent” And guess what, I hit the bull’s eye. She smiled, and gushed with the mark of shyness in her face. After the little attempt of patronizing her I was there again sipping my coffee along with my surprise package.
“Okay”, I sighed. ”Do I have to plot another drama or will you let me know with whom am I sitting here in this cozy café “
“Uff”, she puffed. “I’m sorry, I am Shila” she drew her hand toward me.
‘It’s S-H-I-L-A not S-H-E-E-L-A’
No Way, I didn’t ask for this but who cares it’s a free scheme, take it boy
I thought I should kiss her hand but I satisfied myself with a hand shake because I realized there are already dozens of bellicose faces snarling at me. Afterall jealousy is a human nature.
‘What drives you to the city of lake?’ I asked.
‘I’m here with my friends’ she explained. ‘We’ll leave for ABC tomorrow, I’m so excited. Oh, it’s my first trekking; I can’t wait to see the Annapurna Range in front of me, this is my best spring break’ she finished all her story in a single breath.
I looked around the café to see if there are any of her friends.
‘I’m alone here’ she mumbled.
I frowned.
‘Oh, I thought you’re looking for my friends, they are already dreaming’
I nodded in an agreement and took another sip.
‘You know this sound awkward but you are offbeat’, Shila spoke with confusing look in her face. She was not quite sure what she was trying to say. ‘I mean, it’s hard to find young guys like you on the coffee bar in lakeside, that too in the midnight’
‘Why? What’s wrong in having coffee?’
Shila Flushed mortified. “That’s not what I meant’
‘Don’t worry about it, I was just kidding’, I said. ‘I had too much last night and I’m trying to make up for that, you know these parties’
‘That means you are here for a weeding’
‘Actually not, I’m here for the launch of my new book’
‘Wow you’re a writer’ she almost jump in her place.
‘Don’t jump so much, it’s not that exciting’ I finished my coffee. She was still staring at me without a blink.
‘What?’
‘You’re a writer man’, she was still in shock.
‘I know’, I laughed. ‘You’re staying whole night in the coffee bar or will you head to your hotel for a nap’ ‘Okay, I had to have some sleep’ she followed me out of the café. I walked her to the hotel. She stare me more than a dozen times in the way. I realized her face telling same sentence over and over ‘You’re a writer man’.
I sat below the Ficus plant on the shore of lake and gape on the silhouettes of the hills surrounding the lake. The flashback from the earlier night started to play in my mind. I tried to figure out how my dream day turned in a hellish nightmare. It was just yesterday:
‘Kailash’ Sheela said, her voice raspy, ’I can’t take it anymore, I’m sorry, I’m breaking with you’
And today I’m here with another Shila with S-H-I-L-A. My head started to bump. I spent the last night in the city below the Ficus plant. By the day break I was in the highway running out of Sheela’s and Shila’s wonderland.

Tea Talk

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Usually seven of us used to catch a tempo from Baneswor Chowk for the college but yesterday we were just four. That guaranteed a seat for each of us so there was no rush to hit our head on the ceiling while hurrying for the seat. After taking a seat, I made myself comfortable, take a bag off my back and put it on the lap and asked.


“So why Pandeyji didn’t came?”

“Don’t take his name man”, said Manoj. “He called me to his room but he left without waiting for me”

“Why?”

“He asked Pankaj for the lift”

“Woa! woa! Somebody is opening a saving account”

“And I guess this will be bigger than Shiva’s account”, laughed Manoj. “This is 14 rupees account unlike Shiva’s one rupee KIST student account”


Everybody laughed. It took 43 minute to reach the Saatdobato Swimming Complex and 9 more to reach the college. That means we were in the canteen after 51 minute to resume our slamming conversation. But this time the stage was big with all the class assembled around the table. We started mimicking the bike ride as soon as we reached the canteen.


“Bhur bhur bhurrrrrr…. come on shiva, ride with me” I started.

“Bhurrrrrrrrrr… coming buddy wait for me” he laughed. And we twirl our bhurr bhurr bike around the table.

“What are you doing guys” a question rose from the audience.

“What am I supposed to do? I don’t have a new CBZ Extreme” I replied.

“And nobody gave me the ride” Shiva chuckled.


Two more guys joined with us and our bhur bhur bike turned into a chuk chuk train. Pandeyji stayed on the corner flushed red and laughing heavily just to show he is normal. I dragged the chair and joined the round table.

“Did you watch TV yesterday?” Pandeyji broke the ice. “Prachanda said sorry to Maha Jodi and valley people”

“Did he? God damn it” I rejoiced and slammed the table. “I knew he would do this sooner or later.”

“We knew you know everything” Gaurav said. “And I heard Prachanda called you before the press meet to consult with you”.

The laughter broke out and this time I was the victim. Pandeyji’s roar was much bigger. He might have thought this was his revenge. We got nothing to do with politics or its player but we couldn’t stop watching them play the game. And this game was giving us more to cheers for. At the same time the content of our tea talk was mounting.


“Why should he call me?” I tried to defend. “I heard Rakesh Sud resign and you are the new Indian Ambassador, didn’t he called you?”

“Hahaha, foreign god (bidesi prabhu)” Everybody pointed Gaurav and they got another laughter capsule.

This time it was me who won. Though outwardly I showed the victory in the same old way; laughing, inwardly I realized I lost the game.

“God, how jolly are we” said Manoj. “Can we go to the class now”

“Was elephant big because it studied, No…… ” Gaurav began. “What’s the point in attending the class then?”

“I know ant wasn’t small either because it didn’t study” answered Manoj. “But can we leave now; I got to prepare for my presentation”


And it was high time we pause our slamming conversation. Everybody started to make up for the class. I thought many times and tried to persuade myself not to mention about the politics but I couldn’t. I don’t know which part of me wants this: democratic me or pacifist me but the result is I’m enjoying politics. The fact is, it’s not only me who enjoy it but the people around me also fancy little spice of politics in the conversation. After all we all are Nepali born with politics in the blood.

2004 Vs 2010

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Isn’t it amazing if things start to happen exactly same way as you expect them to be; obliviously yes. And these days locked inside my room I’m feeling weird. But there is one thing good about it because things are turning my way. Thumbs up to you guys for locking 26 million Nepali in the room for a week.

It was back in 2003/04 final year of my school days. Nepali parents want their kids to sacrifice games, festivals, ceremonies and on top of it TV to prepare them for SLC. And it was same in my case also. During that time I was a kind of TV freak guy. We didn’t have cable then so we had just Nepal Television. I was regular viewer of 8:30 serials. Chandrakanta, Om Nama Shivaya, Mahabharat, KaliGandaki ko Serofero, Aviral Bagdacha Indrawati etc. I remember them till now. And okay Hindi movies on Saturday, I never missed one. I used to give up everything to be at home on 2:30 during Saturdays. Guess what, I had to listen more dialogues off screen then on screen.

“You are in class 10; at least have a shame on yourself”
“Mom, don’t start again”
“See your brothers they are already in college, they are doing great and you are here all day watching these half nude witches dancing”. A moment of silence and there she start again with her hand in the head.
”Do you ever think about your future?”
“I don’t want to think about anything right now, just let me watch the movie”
“I don’t want to hear anybody saying bad about you. Why don’t you read well? Can’t you take your eyes off the TV?”
“No”
“See this is the defect of TV, it is filling your mind with useless stuff, and you have no respect to parents, god save you”
“Mom can we end this here”, I said. “I’m hungry can I have something to eat”
“No” she gave me an agitated frowning. ”Why, don’t TV feeds you? Ask TV for your breakfast”
She went out, though I lost my breakfast that day I was happy because I could watch movie silently at least for next half an hour. Back then in 2004 my mom thought she was protecting me by not allowing me to watch TV.

Seven year later: 2010, first week of May. And it was from the very beginning of May things started happening my way. It was 4:30 pm and I was busy with college project. I got a call from my mom.
“Are you watching TV?” mom asked.
“No”, I was confused. “What’s going on?”
“No no it’s nothing”, she said. “Every channel are broadcasting Maoist rally live, so I thought you were also watching it”.
“I’m busy with my college stuff, I’ll watch it later”
“Did you have your breakfast?”
“Yes I did mom”, I said. “And you?”
“No, we all are watching it”, she said. “We’ll have it later”
“Woowaa from when did TV start feeding our family mom?”

She just laughed and hung up. I kept wondering why in the gods name does these old people loves politics so much. There is a saying “politics is about old people talking and young people fighting”. I think they like talking but I hate fighting so I guess I’m out of the game. That’s why political events rarely excite me these days. Today there was clash in Pokhara so, I got another call.

“Hello”
“Do you know there is fighting going on in Amarsingh Chowk”
“Yes, I do”, I said. “I’m watching it”
“Nice”, she said.
“Mom what is nice in watching these fights in TV”, I said. “It’s so depressing”
“I know”, she said. “But you watch TV whole day, watch movie, cricket whatever you like but don’t go out in the street, did you understand? Who know what will happen when? You don’t know how to speak so just stay away from the debates, they say YCL are everywhere in the streets of Patan”

So and so, she went on for few minutes elaborating me what to watch in TV, what to do and what not to? This month of May is turning out to be the best for NTC. I got 5 or 6 calls a day. One fight in the street and phone starts vibrating. And now in 2010 she thought she is protecting me by making me watch TV. At least she knows it’s worth watching TV. Aren’t things turning my ways?

The Rolpa Boy

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‘What’s your name buddy?’
‘Hukum’
‘Hukum!!!!’ I repeated the word surprisingly as the word was quite strange to be a name and I thought I heard it wrong.
‘Yes’, the boy replied. ‘I’m Hukum Thapa’.
‘No way man’, I giggled. ‘Is your father a gambler?’
I thought his father might have been very fond of cards and named his son after his best color Spade. But my sarcasm had a little impact on that boy, he just sat silent. I was more interested to bring out the story behind his name so, I threw another question.
‘Who named you Hukum?’ I asked. ‘Is that your father?’
‘No’, he replied in firmness. ‘Might be one of those stupid Bahun Pandit’.
I was knocked out by the answer. He might have noticed me as Brahmin, and that was it to make me silent. I grinned and walk out to hide my face.

Hukum, a boy from a Village Sano Libang was in Kathmandu to start the college. He was among the two students who had passed SLC from his school. That conversation on his first day in our place had resolved our differences between Bahun and Magar. He has been my neighbor ever since. He told me how awkward he felt in his early days of college when everybody laughed at him listening his name. I wanted to told him how out of ordinary his name is. But I contained myself remembering my first encounter. We had many such conversation then after.

‘Ramesh dai, Why are maoist doing the demonstration?’
‘How would I know? Ask Prachanda’
‘You told Prachanda was born in your village’, he grinned ‘why don’t you ask yourself?’
‘Yes’, I replied. ‘But you vote him for MP, he is yours now’
‘He is not just mine’, he remarked. ‘He is the voice of Peasants, Labor and every one of those who are exploited by state’
‘It’s not the same state that used to be four years earlier’, I tried to convince him. ‘The state today belongs to Maoist as much as it belongs to Congress and UML’
‘No way’, he doubts. ‘Government will declare the state of emergency and Royal Nepalese Army will start to slaughter us again’.
‘What, its Nepalese Army not Royal Nepalese Army by the way and how can you say they will slaughter you, Nepalese Army won’t kill any innocent’
‘I have seen many innocent killed in front of my own eyes, it will be the same again’. His face was deeply submerged in the pain they faced during Civil War.

Yesterday was May 1, international labor day. Nepal on the verge of devastation, ready to battle. I was disheartened and passing my time showing my frustration on facebook. Joining groups like “nepal tero baau ko sampati ho ra jailey bandh garna lai???”, “मलाई प्रचण्ड भन्दा काले कुकुर मन पर्छ ।“, “जेष्ठ १४ गते ६०१ सभाशदलाई टुँडिखेलमा लाइन लगाएर सिस्नो-पानी लगाउनु पर्छ ....!!!!!!!!!!!” and many more. Hukum entered my room. I start to read comments for him.

‘All this jungali will demolish our nation, lets save it, say no to Maoist andolan’
‘Wait wait!!’ he stopped me. ‘He is writing remote people Jungali, you capitalist, bourgeoisie’
‘No’, I clarified. ‘He is calling Maoist Jungali, not remote people’
‘Remote people are all Maoist’
‘How can you say that?’
‘Because in our village every people voted for Maoist’
‘Voting won’t make you Maoist’
‘What ever, this city people will not consider us as a human being’
‘Ha-ha’, I giggle. ‘What will you do Hukum, will you fight against them?’
‘Why not?’ He replied in the same firmness like that of the first day meeting. ‘I’ll go to jungle; I’ll take arms and fight if people ask me’

He went out of my room and i logout facebook and keep thinking. I wanted him to ask who the people for him are, Is he sure he want to fight. I know he will find one or the other way to keep me silent. That Rolpa Boy in his own strange way is a Communist; a Rebellion.