DK Bose and Super 5’s

DK Bose and Super 5’s

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The perfect set up for the long planned weekend seemed bleak when the week long rain never took an interest in subsiding on the dawn of Saturday as well. But the pray on the night before had done some tricks as the cloud started to disperse from the east showing void hope of sun. 7:30 in the clock and we were all set for the ‘Bhaag! Bhaag! DK Bose DK Bose Bhaag!’

I was standing on the queue in front of Cinema carrying a small yellow chit worth 100 bucks after a long time. As far I remember it was the first ever after the college. Saturday; Morning Show, God! It’s been 6 month since I last visited cinema. No more class so no more bunking and how can I do my attendance in the theater. The long lost feeling was again haunting my psyche. 2 hours total fun and when I was out just wanna say ‘‘Bhaag! Bhaag! DK Bose DK Bose Bhaag!’

Two hours with DK Bose was enough to spend the morning. What about the whole day? We made a plan to walk along the National Soccer team on the road to Brazil 2014. Qualifying round for the samba land was on the way in the capital and how can we miss it. We went to the room, hurried our lunch and get ready to line up for the ticket in the Rangasala.

Two hours before the kick off we were biding our time on the long queue outside the Rangasala with 200 bucks hoping the cost and the wait will be for the glory. I remember lining up several times in past and the thoughts were different then. I used to call them The Chicken Theory: at least don’t get hammered much. But now after the leap frog in the FIFA table my mind has fostered the new one The Buff theory: Go and kick their ass. And I with my gang was waiting outside along with the long queue of zealous fans to see our champs excel over Timor Leste’s.

I was one of the 15 thousands fanatics on the stadium with eyes wide open to witness the history in making. Small country and wee history but it was wonderful. And not to forget it took just 90 min to embark the one in the pitch. The Mexican Wave, the Fan Songs, the Clapping and the Yelling, Scolding, Rough words, Excitation and shittttt, Tips and Coaching from the stand. The 90 minutes passed in the blink of an eye with hackling, whistling and screaming. When the whistle blew off the side screen was showing the statistics 5-0. Those super fives were the best figures I had witness in my visit to Rangasala. What more you want? The hour’s long wait and the happy ending.

The two hours spend inside the theater and the stadium was equal

in duration but what can I say about the feeling they imparted in my minds. The best weekend I had spend in a long time made me go through the drastic transformation of emotion. The fokaad entertainment and the glory you’ll die for to see. The alloy of fokaad entertainment and the glory made my weekend. Not to forget the later one made by Buff Theory the winner. Now onward I’ll say Go Nepal Go, Go and Kick Their Ass.

Season Quandary

Season Quandary

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Time and often the human mind go through the quandary. I have felt such in last few days. Just for the instance I would like to mention my phobia and mania of the seasons; my phobia of the summer and mania of the winter.

No doubt the winter is the best one. The warmth of the winter sun that breeds new aroma in the air, the droplets of dew on the leaves that shines like the diamond which makes you feel opulent and chilly yet sizzling airs that will rejuvenate your eternal fire are the things that make me crazy about the winter. Unlike summer we don’t have to walk through the water filled pits playing holi every now and then with the strangers driving by. And every time I think of winter I think of the great Devkota ji and his superb style of describing the miniature things and their greatness. The way he describes the beauty that behold in every aspect of nature has intensified by love to the winter (because I learned to talk more about the things I like).

On the other hand summer never excites me. Living in the Capital during summer time is like being cooked inside the pressure cooker. The scorching sun that never takes a break until it roasts you like the Sekuwa on the footpath restaurants of Baneswor Chowk. The malodorous streets and the pile of trash that never disappears and makes you nauseating. The dust filled streets and the crowds of people that never sleep. These all summon up to make one big pressure cooker to cook you alive. The positive vibes about the summer never penetrated through my skull. And due to this reasons I used to frown hearing the praises of summer. I used to lead the crowd that criticizes it and I felt good about it.

However in the last few days my mind had cooked the new notion; what’s wrong with the spicy summer? The chauffeur behind the new notion was the continue rainfall. And see how this drizzling week in Kathmandu drives me to draw this thought in my mind.

The beauty that beholds in every modicum of this sublunary world has energizes me. To name a few: A drizzling rains that splash in my ceiling and trickles down to my window pan making dulcet music. The music more divine than Persian Sufi, more eternal than Buddhist soul music or more mellifluous than Pink Floyd. The Godly chime of the bell in the temple next to my house that propels the religious instincts inside me. The cool monsoon breeze puffing inside my room flapping the curtains. All of them tempered the summer torridness and let me roll myself in the velvet quilt and sleep.

The sound sleep I got in last few days has really changed my thoughts about the season. But I don’t know how much does it last. Is it until the day sun emerges from the gloomy cloud and starts to roast you again or will it last for few more? But for the time being I’m enjoying the little change going through my mind.