Silence

Silence

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As per the plan I was waiting next to the Lions Gym, around hundred meters south of the Sankhamul Chowk. I pulled the cell phone from the pocket and had a look on the clock. ‘Uff, just 8:03am’. I breathe heavily and the gulp of air loomed around my face like the puff of smoke. Though the sun had graded through the scattering cloud on the east, the streets of Kathmandu were still arctic. Nothing to get busy with, I turned around; ‘Janakpur Paan Pasal’ on the left and ‘the Lions Gym’ on the right. But ‘Shrestha Tea House’ the board behind me caught the attention. I climbed couple of stair, dumped my bag and settled myself on the wooden chair. ‘Sauji, one milk tea’, I placed the order.
As Sauji and his toddler assistant was busy processing my order, I gazed across the street. Vegetable vendor were in the pinnacle of their business, trespassing half of the road with their cart and mobile shops. The remaining half was overflowed by their client (I mean the housewives) and the vehicle.
The teenage couple appeared from the crowd. The boy had silky hair; the perfect Korean hairstyle, and the I-phone in his hand (predictable style of teenage lads these days). The girl, who was in a college dress, was shivering with the cold and had pulled the sleeve of sweater to wrap around her palm to make a glove. As all her effort to keep warm went in vain, she pulled him closer by grabbing his arm and placed her hand in his pocket. Wow she found the better solution to fight with the cold (then a cup of tea like me). The boy gave a quick glance at her. The girl smiled in return, the textbook gesture to show the gratitude. It need not be said that he felt the warmth of her love; the comprehensible glow that arises in his face with contempt speaks it all. The girl pulled the ear phone from him pocket, put one plug in her ear and the others in his. Suddenly the romance fired up in the air. And probably the Justin Biber or Taylor Swift’s (they didn’t seemed to me the Pink Floyd type) playlist catalyses them.
On the background the middle aged gentleman came riding the classic hero rangers bicycle. He had scarf in his shoulder. Unlike the teenager he had perfectly combed side parted hair that reminds you of angry young man of Bollywood in late 70’s. The dabaang beard and the belly pant had spiced his Bollywood personality further. He was whistling and enjoying the ride. Despite his swarthy face, the smile and the pleasure he was having had made him substantially good-looking.
‘Trrrringgg Trrringgg’. He ringed twice but the couple didn’t care about it. And how could they when their ears were buzzing with Justin Biber and Taylor Swift. So he drove past them, turned around and stopped just in front of the couple. The couple almost bumped on the bicycle. The contempt glow of the boy a moment ago was now devoured by rage.
‘Sale dhoti aakha dekhdainas’.
The boy sneered like a wolf sneered to the deer. I don’t know why but I looked at the girls. Deep inside me was expecting the positive interruption from the girl. But she was reluctant to take a stage.
Boy’s face was glowing with the valor he had just staged, and why wouldn’t it if he had some gorgeous by his side silently observing him, to prove his chivalry to?
He grabbed his girlfriends hand and they moved on giggling and I was traumatized on the wooden chair.
‘How could he be so mean with someone about the age of his father?
The gentleman did not ventured to react; instead he tried to hide the humiliation he had just gone through. His gloomy and silent nod was enough for me to understand the mental state he was going through. The streak of bitter emotion had engulfed the cheerful face of his. His silence seemed so mundane that he was drinking this humiliation all his life. He balanced the bicycle by pulling it to the hoarding board. He had his own business, they had theirs; he opened the door of ‘Janakpur Paan Pasal’ and they disappeared in the crowd.

The bike on the other side of the road clanked the horn. I waived him and signaled to join me.
‘Sauji make it two’. I notified my host, ‘I have a company’. As my friend was crossing the road I sighed with relief. Firstly, the wait was over for me, and secondly because it was hell of a scene I had witness.

In spite of all the efforts I made, I could not in the least enters into the feelings of that gentleman and understand his sentiments and the silence he put on the show a moment ago. Had there been some Pahadi in his place, I need not have to imagine boy getting his face disfigured. Good for the boy it was Madhesi, bad for the gentleman it was the Jaundiced Pahadi kid.