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

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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.

ओइ, भन त, तँ किन जन्मेको?

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I and one of my friends were returning from the workplace. Putting aside the burden of day long work and walking freely back home was really pleasing. As we were few blocks away he got the call. After getting off the phone he turned to me and said ‘we gotto go somewhere else’.

‘Why? What happened?’ I asked in a doldrums. I thought my plan of getting to room early and having a good early sleep was spoiled then.

‘A friend had bought something from my home, we have to receive it’

‘Ok, let’s go’ I was left without an option so I accepted his proposal.

After 20 minutes or so we were standing by the side of DhobiKhola waiting for the delivery boy. I was standing by the compound wall putting some of my load against it and scrutinizing the environment of this corner of the metropolis. The usual setting of Kathmandu; the street momo vender with his cart was busy dealing with the customer, the corn seller by the side of road was making fire, the fruit seller pulled his bicycle by me and started waiting.

The wait was already 10 minutes and there was still no sign of our delivery boy. So I was putting myself up with the typical ambiance of the Chowk. People rushing around the Chowk, the messed up traffic and the murky water filled pits all over the road was an orthodox outlook of the Chowk.
The group of teenagers appeared from the corner giggling and when they passed us I heard them talking. ‘ओइ, भन त, तँ किन जन्मेको?’ the first one asked.

The second guy was muted by the question.

‘I mean people studies, they becomes great, professor, scientist, doctor and many more but what about their life…………………’ the first one was trying to explain. But before hearing all of it they were far enough that my ears couldn’t perceive more than the above lines. Before thinking anything I turned to my companion. He was already staring at me. So we both smirked at each other.

‘ओइ, भन त, तँ किन जन्मेको?’ I laughed at him.

‘What kind of Question is that yaar?’ It was not only me who was moved by the question.

‘This is million dollars question man, can you answer it?’

‘No way, How would I know why was I born?’ He was deeply upset by the question.

How would I know why was I born? Was it to be some freaking programmer, was it to read some ridiculous novels, was it to watch 3 or 4 movies a day or was it to be a Chelsea fan. I don’t think god wasted his time in me for doing these mere tasks. As per my notion I was made to do something really great but what? I think I should ask my mom and dad, what? Because they were the one who get me into answering this troublesome question. I think my dad wanted me to debug human’s hardware and mom didn’t have the slightest idea but I’m here compiling some freaking computer software. But there is no harmony between our wish. The more I think the deeper it takes me. The depth of the question was like the unfathomable sea, the deeper you go the darker it becomes. And I am trying to find a clue about my something great.

When asked to young guys and girls they may not be able to answer the question because they might not have figured out why they were born? But what if we asked this to some veterans crossing half dozen decades or so? Can they answer it? Think about it.

Finally the delivery boy arrived with a plastic bag. When we received the parcel we had a look and no doubt the parcel had a jar of pickle, ghee and a kilo of Daal. Seeing the parcel big smile came to my face. And I tried to answer the question.

‘I don’t know why I was born but you are born to eat this pickle, ghee and daal’(‘म किन जन्मेको त थाहा छैन तर तँ चाँही यो अचार, घीय्ऊ र दाल खान जन्मेको होस् यार’), we both snickered and headed to the room.

Batch 2006 A Memento

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The Inception: The playlist in my media player was playing Kid Rock ‘All Summer Long’. I neither bother to add another one to the list nor did I try to pause it. ‘It was 1989, my thoughts were short my hair was long’. The lucid images of my early college life started to roll around my eyes. My long hair which I cherish these days in facebook albums had an interesting role in marking the beginning of my college life. Frequent hide and seek with the coordinator to save it from getting trimmed were funny. But more than that my foreheads along with Nabin, Ghoda, and Migsho were the nice bargaining chips for 2006 batch to get, what they want. To mentioned a few, bunking canteen to visit the Baje ko bhatti pasal early in the morning, blaming teachers for not teaching good, bunking practical classes blaming load shedding. And when asked to trim the hair, I didn’t have to say a word coz the whole class was there with the readymade answer; why don’t you first arrange a practical, why don’t you first buy a cricket bat, basketball, why don’t you get the toilet cleaned and many more in the list (I remembered summarizing them to 21 points in 2nd year). And the last one about the toilet was special one from Gaurav.

The Romance:Later days in Baneswor were more romantic, with the frequent visit to the cafeteria, a rose day celebration, getting your body warm with winter sun in the balcony and piping through the window of room 201. There was something warmer than the winter sun, I think Nangebaba, Bivor, Jayan and Laure know more than me about the winter of 2008. And how can I forget getting the new analogy the president Sarkozy, the romantic Neta. But the worst part of it, Sarkozy got Carla Bruni and I’m still single. Neither the 35 bucks rose nor the Bade’s challenge around TT board worked for me. But many many thanks to Chicken for being an allies gathering information and getting a cell no. And I think I’m not the only one to thank her. After all her nickname ‘Keti ko Dallal’ worked well for her then.

The Memento: The classic dialogue of Pandey ‘Dherai hero nabhai, muji lai yehi baneswor chowk ma gaddinchu feri’, the sexy slap of Tori on everybody’s arse, Gabbar Singh laugh of shiva, kukur birala fight between poje and Chake. Jagadamba Steel’s body of a Modal. Legendary Jodi of Amitabh bacchan and jaya bacchan(sorry Alchiko poko and Fuchhi, I couldn’t find a better analogy for you guys). 24/7 Black and white Fakhira. Once in a full moon Bharat. Salman Bhai sumeru and Sagun. And our Chinese friend Gu Sung and Dick Sung. But Laure who are they really? I also don’t know exactly, please let me know. Sports week 2008, 2009, CITS 2010, IT#, IT Conference, and Farewell Party in Anandaban. And many many more, but hot conversation are not included. Cherish them yourself.

I have a strange feeling about being a graduate. There were few occasion when I really wished for. But today when I’m the one I have a sour feeling. Because I will badly miss you all. (………………….)

I think someone is absent here too. But my blank space for ( ) Manoj.

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