The P Café

Today, in the evening time when I got a phone call from a friend. She sounded exasperated and demanded to meet me ASAP. I was bewildered by such a demand as we both weren’t so much intimate in each other’s social circle and anxiously rushed to New Baneswor Chowk, where she was addressed to be. I barely spoke with her before and this was the first time she had called me. There was a sort of awkward feeling as I was proceeding towards her. I remember when I met her first few months back, maybe in January; she was happily married and was with her husband then. I met them at the tax office, her husband was starting a pharmaceutical trading company and I had assisted them for the same. After that, 9 months later I met her again, this time at one of my client’s office. I was there for an audit assignment and she was for a job interview. We both had to wait for a while and we both got into a conversation after a mutual smile.
“I think I have seen you somewhere?” She said amused.
“I think the same. Do you have any idea, where?” I answered in a question. I actually had known where.
“No idea, sorry. I just cannot recall it.” She said.
“Are you in business?” I asked.
“No. For a job interview.” She replied smirking.
I would have ended the conversation there, but I saw something strange in her that day. When I had seen her hitherto, she had so much poise in her looks, glowing with ecstasy. Now I could see woe. She looked miserable. And what astonished me the most was the wife of a newly registered trader, about whom I had read and talked a lot recently, his being one of the successful player in the Nepali biz world in a very short period, searching for a job.
“I am sorry ma’m, but I do certainly recognize you. What makes me unsure of the fact is that, why would the wife of a business tycoon search for a job in a company like this?” I asked.
“Maybe the business tycoon is no more her husband”, she said smiling.
I could say no more. I was shocked and that was clearly reflected in my pale-turning face. I apologized with my deep sympathies. She just smiled and asked if I could help her find a decent high paying job. We shared phone numbers and I assured her that I will remember her if I came across anything as such.
It was a queer encounter for sure. I wished her good luck for the interview before we separated.
I hadn’t seen her after that day. And today this jolting phone call, after about a month of crossing each other. I was hysterical to know what’s coming next. Anyway I had settled to make the meeting as discrete as possible.
I met her at the New Baneswor crossroads. She was an elegant young women, perfect physique with proper dressing sense. She was wearing a light blue suit that suited her very well. There was dark shades below her eyes, maybe she was skipping sleeping a lot recently. It was loud and noisy and by her body language I perceived that this was going to take some time. There was an awkwardness in looks of our both and we mutually veiled it. She apologized for a sudden call, thanked me for coming and assured that it was something important for her. I was thinking the same thing, “It better be good!” She proposed to have a small chat and appraised an underground café near the spot. I had already ventured this lot, so anything coming up was sure to be ok for me. She escorted me to this place, just about 100m from the crossroads. “P Café”, it was written on the board. I was surprised to see the place quite occupied, despite of its basement location and deafening noise of the generator. It was not even lighted properly. We settled in a table at the leftest corner. The seat was not visible from any part of the café and no one could hear what we say. I was feeling like being in a top secret meeting of a national concern, like in classic Hollywood movies.
“I am really sorry and thankful for you. It was really awkward for me to call you, but I don’t know anyone else in the city with whom I can talk and they would listen me. But this is not the only reason for my affording to contact you. It was actually a co-incidence that I saw your post in the Osho’s group. I got the feeling that you will fathom my plight.” She looked me with chastity as she started the conversation.
The dim light was adding shades to aberration in her air, making her more alluring. I resolved to not see in her face directly as I found myself staring and it was sure to create more awkwardness. We agreed on coffee and ordered the same.
“Is it something about your husband?” I asked.
“No, I don’t want to talk about that crock.” She had a desolate look. “He called me a berserk. Can you imagine that? I left everything for him. I trusted him, challenged all for him and he turned out to be a phony. How could I stay with him?” “He may earn a lot from his illicit business, he may be successful destroying lives, but he will someday face the annihilation for sure. He will have a long list of sins to regret.” She looked preordained.
“Illicit business? Destroying lives? I don’t understand.” It got intense the very beginning.
“Do you want to know how he grew so rich so soon? He smuggled charlies and cokes in the shadow of his pharmaceutical trade. He has contacts and they allow and assist him in this, those crooks! He can do anything for money. He destroyed his own wife’s life. He said that he loved me over everything and the traded me for money?” She started sobbing. I gave her a tissue, I didn’t know how I should console her. Her husband was an icon for me as well, I admired him for taking Nepali business trend to a new height and knowing the truth kind of devastated my belief. I was thrilled to hear what she went through. I could see her fighting through pain. She was weak, pretending to be strong. I felt pity for her.
The coffee came.
“Did you get the job that day?” I asked her, after the waiter left.
“No, I didn’t get that job. I had a nervous breakdown and I abused the interviewer.”
“What? You did What? Why would you do that? What did he say?” I was shocked hearing her. I couldn’t hold laughing and she joined. It was the first time I saw her laughing in the evening. Then suddenly her smile fade away and she had a terror in her eye. This mysteriously changing emotions were making me amused and scared.
“That’s why I called you today to listen me. There are some secrets, I have suppressed them inside me all this long. This is eating me and I can hold any longer.” I became more attentive. “I see things, unnatural things and I feel them.” She continued.
Her phone started to ring. She asked for an excuse and picked the call. I couldn’t transcribe what the person on the other side was saying but I could distinguish, it was a male voice. She assured him that she shall lock all the doors at the very moment and hung up. She then looked inside her bag and fetched a device, looked like a tablet, and kept in the table. She then inserted a USB cable attached with a device I had never seen such device before. As soon as the cable was connected a virtual keyboard appeared of blue rays and the table was now the keyboard. She clicked some buttons and it was done. She unplugged her USB and kept the tablet inside her bag. She then looked above at me.
“I guess you need to be somewhere to lock something up”, I reminded.
“No, I did it just now,” She winked. “Actually I got a job of lock women.”
“What’s a lock women? Never heard of such thing”, I was annoyed by all the confusions.
“Because that’s a word created by me”, she glowed. “Actually I open the locks in the doors and gates of different institutions in the morning and close at the evening. There are 7 institutions. That’s my job.”
“Why would they hire a person for just locking and unlocking doors?” My mind shouted that this is insane. “And they use computerized locks in the gates?”
“No, they are all physical locks! I have made them accessible through my computer so that I can do that from anywhere.” I could see no pride as she said this in her eyes. “If you want to know how I did that, it’s actually very easy. I inserted a chip in the lock that converted the mechanical lock into an electronic device that can be controlled from my computer.”
“That’s fancy! Where do you get such chips?” I grinned.
“It’s not available in the market, I made it,” She exclaimed.
“Wow! I didn’t know you are a software engineer.”
“The problem is I am not. I didn’t know even a “C” about a computer. Never studied a formal class before.”
“Then how did you do it? Where did you learn?” I couldn’t resist.
“I saw the procedure to make the chip in my dream.” She said. She actually said that. And that was the most unbelievable thing I ever heard in my life. I reacted the same.
“You’re joking, right?” I asked controlling my laughter.
“I wish I was?” She looked serious and valiant. I still couldn’t believe that.
“How?” I could just manage to say that.
“I was telling you the same. I see and feel unnatural things.”
“Unnatural things? Like what? Since when?” I wished in my heart that this was not real, she was just kidding. I never believed in such things. And now she was saying that it happens to her. Seeing her at that moment I had no other options to agree what she was saying. I asked her to go on. This was not science, it was related to inner mind, psychology and maybe spirituality. I read and followed spiritual Gurus like Osho, Kabir, Sai. I looked for answers and got quite satisfactory answers from them. That’s why I followed them. Apart from those, I never thought really about spirituality. It was just a medium for motivation and self-realization. I had read a similar case in a book of Osho’s, where an illiterate women could speak languages she never learnt or heard and give lectures on scientific theories. When asked to her she said that it comes automatically to her. I had laughed at that women when I read that, but now I was feeling sorry for her.
“It started after some months of me getting married. I am this because of my husband. I don’t want to remember his face in my life. He destroyed my life.” There was rage in her face. “He drugged me. I didn’t know at all about that. He used to mix it in my food. He used to inject me when I was asleep. I later learnt about it. I started to hallucinate. I saw things that didn’t exist. I started to observe everything very minutely. I used to hear the cries of dead children. I saw dead people, the spirits used to come to me. I was so scared. I could not sleep at night and that made me even sicker. He made me crazy and left me saying that I was crazy. Can you believe that?”
I couldn’t believe her confession. How can a person be so cruel? I was enraged. My temper was high and I was feeling hot inside. My eyes were turning red. He was the most disgusting and hateful person in my life and I just wished I didn’t meet him anywhere because I would do something insane if I met him anywhere.
“He tried to send me to the rehab and also to the mental care, I escaped somehow. But I knew I needed cure.” She continued. “I then joined Osho. All I am today, able to sit in front of you and communicate socially, the total credit goes to Vagwan Osho.” I never admired Osho more than that day.
“I called you here because I saw your post in the Osho’s group and also your name in the tapoban visitors. I worked there as a sevika of the Acharya and also volunteered for other chores. It really helped me. All those spiritual awakening lectures and soul purifying meditations are divine.  Which meditation did you try? How many sessions did you attend?”
I was in trouble. I was not that much in Osho, as people thought. I had not attended even a single session and didn’t know a single meditation. I had seen some videos in YouTube and read some book. I knew that was not enough to talk Osho with her. So, I confessed the truth. She smiled and suggested me give it a try. I could clearly see the lines of disappointment in her face. And that made me nervous. So, I thought of changing the topic.
“How can you invent such things out of your dream? I can’t remember what I saw in my dream any day! And I read that we can see only what we know in our dreams.”
“I thought the same. But Acharya explained it to me. He told me about the states of mind. The conscious mind, that enslaves us, makes us believe that we know only those things that our conscious mind knows. That is what we have gathered with the help of our senses. And there is this unconscious mind. Though called unconscious it has the knowledge of everything. A common human can ever get into his this part of mind. People like Buddha can only access this knowledge. That’s why Buddha knew the truth about everything in the world just sitting under a tree. In actual there is nothing in the universe that we are not aware about. The search is never on the outside, everything is inside us. We just need to focus on ourselves. But everyone cannot be Buddha. Acharya showed me another way for enlightenment. He told me that there is a bridge between these two minds, the sub-conscious. It acts as the mediator and gives us the option which part of the mind we want to use. The dreams, alternate personalities, reflexes are all due to this sub-conscious mind.”
“So, how can we divert our sub-conscious mind from our conscious to unconscious?” I wanted to know more. I was getting into it and I found it logical.
“It is through meditation.” She replied. “There are various meditation techniques.”
“I still don’t understand how you can invent such chips by dreaming about it.” I was curious.
“Acharya told me that whatever we think about so deep, we dream about the same. It should reach the sub-conscious, which was the precondition. The sub-conscious extracts either from the unconscious or conscious mind, so it depends on your choice of mind what you want to see. And about remembering the dream, there are a lot of meditation technique. The easiest way I learned is the lucid dreaming. Have you heard about that?”
I certainly had heard a lot about that. I even tried it once or twice but could not ever succeed.
“Acharya told me that it is a very dangerous technique and never to try it. And I request you not to take this all things so seriously, I mean I don’t want you to try these out yourselves. You can take sessions in Tapoban though.”
“Can you read mind?” I shouted, because the idea of trying all she said once by myself was revolving in my mind. I was now quite assured that she can do almost anything.
“A little,” She said grinning, and became quite. “You know why I abused the interviewer that day? Because I could read his mind. He was a pathetic person and he had sick mind frame.”
“So your ability cost you a job. Can you rely on that?” I questioned.
“Then I could, now I cannot. Then I was just out of the sessions and I wasn’t totally cured. Now I have slowly removed all such things. Or I thought so. But I feel scared again now a days. It started to feel strange and then strange nightmares. I cannot sleep at night. It’s not ghostly feeling I am sure. Its loneliness, I feel scared that I will not be able to make to make any friends.”
“Well you already made one, I guess.” I smirked.
“Thank you for coming for me today and listening to me. It’s such a relief to open with someone. I was so scared to share it with anyone but I was dying keeping it inside me. I had so lot so say but all that’s gone now.”
“I loved hearing all these. You completely changed my dimension of thought. I should thank you for showing me a totally different universe of thought. And in future at any time, you want to talk about anything, you can count on me.”
She smiled. I smiled back. She had a strange light in her eyes. I hadn’t seen that in any person before. She was looking straight at me, not saying anything. I was feeling uncomfortable and scared. I pretended to look at my watch and removed my eyes.
“It’s probably getting late,” She said. “I had a good time. I hope to see you soon.”
At that moment all my mind could wish was getting out of there as soon as possible. I bid her goodbye and we separated.
I couldn’t forget her words, neither her eyes and they haunted me the whole evening. At night I decided to try lucid dreaming technique. I woke up and wrote this all. I think it worked, I can remember all the minute detail as I write. But as I finished writing, I feel that I wrote all this in dream. I am scared that this meeting was all hallucination of my mind. My mind is suggesting that I have no such friend and this is all an illusion.
I couldn’t remain in such a quandary so the first thing I did next day was going to the place where the café is located. To my relief there is a basement café with the name “P Café” but my mind still doesn’t believe that the event is real.

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Dream Catcher

This is my story. Nothing so special, thrilling or sensational. But it certainly is worth sharing. This is the reality of lots of other young people all over the world. Wherever a person may live, whatever the person eats or speaks, people are similar in lots of ways in terms of emotions, empathy and remorse. So, my story represents lots of other emotionally baked people.

Life was majestic, happy-to-go lucky. I was jaunty and adamant without being pretentious. I guessed lots of others dreamed of being me. I had all lock stock and barrel; gorgeous I was, good in studies, benevolent family, I was kind of “the father’s daughter”, and above all I never lost smile in my face, maybe no reason to lose. I had super-eminent friends and they were with me ubiquitously. All galas were attended together and people even commented us that when we were together we were like a radio talk show, no matter if the audience is grasping what we were saying, we were always chattering. But it wasn't just limited to our being together, thanks to Facebook and mobile phones no hearsay was missed. If you wonder what was that we talked about so lot I would say, you will think it mostly as nonsense, but for us it used to be the most important matters to know. The talks were mostly about clothes, other girls, little scams and secrets, controversies of movie stars to classmates, like we talk about almost everything that came in our head. We talked about boys, very cautious of being a new scam, talked about our crushes, about boys we met, blind dates though very rare, our perception about them, their hair style to their talking style, caring, yes almost everything. Apart from gossips I had my friends for shopping, market visits and in every celebrations. I was really happy with my friends, being with them was marvelous but I had an avidity inside me of having someone more closer, a person out of the ordinary who shall treat me special, like the only girl in the world. I would secretly wish for it when I used to watch movies, or see couples in malls, restaurants and I longed more when I saw my mom and dad so much into each other, when they understood each other emotionally and expressively. I had few relationships in the past but they were all kind of farces and parodies and surely didn't last.  I wanted someone for me and this feeling was eating me up. I unconsciously started to look around, guys from my school, friend’s friends and even checked out some profiles in Facebook, some quite stood out in my measure of expectation. I just checked those guys out, I had no guts to approach, being a girl, a beautiful girl, there was this thing called girl’s attitude that prevented me from such attempts and allowed only to leave hints.

I was in quandary the whole time and suppressed the feeling until the day a boy from school, Ankit proposed me up. He looked pretty good, and had passed my expectation measure, so there was nothing to think of. But there was again this decree of girl’s attitude and I was supposed to ask for some time to think about it and I did the same. Though I had a dismay about him changing his mind. Maybe in greed of love, I had lowered my self-esteem real low. I talked with my friends about that event. I was excited to see their reaction but only made me disappointed. They all knew him and started foul invective towards him. He was the most negative personality for them, they reveled gossips about his getting dumped by his ex for being a jerk and also claimed that he was interested in me only to show his ex that we can get better. They clearly asserted that he was just trying to use me up. If it was about anyone else I would readily have believed them but in this case I was already so much into his influence that everything they said about him was only blah blah blah in my ears. I even started hating them for disliking him. I started to think about him even more and started to be with him. I joined him everywhere he wanted me to be. Firstly I restrained but later it was not so big fuss. We were seen together in all places and he alone replaced all my other companions. He listened to all my jabbers and girly talks, and always supported me even if I was against the universal truth. He promised to be with me in all delights or despairs. He was my true friend and best friend and my love of life in no time. I wanted him to propose me again but he didn't. I started to post love quotes and desires in the Facebook wall. He liked and commented in all but I still didn't get what I wanted. Maybe I was throwing hints but even I didn't know what I was doing really, it just felt so good. Then came the Valentine’s Day. There used to be a special party in the lakeside club, I always wanted to go there, but it was late night party and being single and going there with girlfriends would be embarrassing, so I had just ignored it all long, but this time I was asked by the special person of my life and there was nothing to stop me this time. I was sure it was going to be the best day of my life, and yes, it was. He proposed me in front of everyone in the proposal session, yes lots of other boys did propose their companions as well but it was the best thing ever happened to me and there was no reason for denial. I was formally his girlfriend.

The party ended late night and he walked me home, holding my hands and kissed me goodbye. Everything was as I wanted. He was like an angel for me. I was so happy until I found my dad waiting me inside. I froze with fear. He inquired about my whereabouts and my recent strange behaviors and also my low grades that I had not realized till now. I had no answers but wasn't guilty as well, I was with someone I wanted to be, so I lied and got my excuses. My dad wasn't satisfied, I saw it in his face. How stupid I was, giving pain to my beloved to live a fantasy. But I was ready to sacrifice anything for this fantasy. My friends still urged me to stay away from him. My parents suggested me to concentrate on my studies then in baloney. But I stared loathing them more and convinced myself that they were just jealous. Phone calls, texting, chatting and regular meeting bonded us even more. I opened even more with him. I told him what my friends thought about me. I also wanted him to tell about past relationships but he just dodged saying that he had no any past relationships and I was the first and shall be the only one. I was assured he loved me truly and all my friends were just liars. Slowly from private texts and conversations our relationship started to evolve on Facebook walls and got public. There was a thrill and satisfaction of claiming him mine in public. We were the cutest couple in the town, everyone commented so. But I was also scared that my parents may take some actions against our relationship if they know about it, so I tried to convince him to stop the exhibition of our relationship but he was like showing everyone that he got the cutest girl in the town, he said the same to me, why to hide if there’s love. It further increased my confidence towards him, still I was scared. And it happened what I was scared of. Dad asked me about Ankit. The talk raised after I denied a proposed family trip giving a stupid study reason and Ankit posted a picture of us in my room the same day. Dad, mom and brother returned half way home. I again got excused with a lie. Dad looked really stressed, maybe I made some harsh comments, but I was so much into Ankit and I was drifting away from all others. He tried convincing me, even scolded and threatened to lock me inside if I didn’t stop this drama. I apologized with my dad, I promised I would stop all and focus on my studies; I was lying again and certainly everything continued and even more. My grades declined more steeply and my dad stopped talking with me. I saw everyone in the family was stressed but I didn’t see why, as I was doing the right thing. My once happy and loving family was now turning gloomy, I felt sad about that, but I couldn’t sacrifice the love of my life. I even started to think about leaving my dad’s house. Things worsen even more, I ignored my parent’s dissatisfaction and all my friends showed cold shoulders towards me. But for me none of these matters, I had him by my side.

And after six months of us being together despites of all sorts of restraints that I thought only made our love stronger, something happened that shook me and the inner foundation of my love, like an earthquake shakes the earth, a really strong one. I spotted him with his so called ex. I couldn’t go to them directly, that would create a scene that I didn’t want so I decided to ask him about that in the evening conversation. I wasn’t mad because I saw him with a girl, I was mad because he had lied me that he was going for a trek to Gandruk with his friends. I texted him in the evening for answers but he alleged that I was mistaken him with someone else because he was on the trek. I knew I had seen him, but I had no choice to believe and forgive him. But it was just the beginning. He started pretending to be busy and was unable to find time for me. He started to ignore my phone calls and texts. Our college was over so I couldn’t meet him as he said he was busy with his entrance preparations and language classes. One day I planned for a surprise visit to his home but only got jolted to know that he had lied me that he told his parents about us. He wasn’t home either and his parents were worried too. They told me about the girl who visits him a lot, they didn’t like her either. I clearly knew they were talking about his ex who probably was reinstated as present.

I felt miserable and lonely. There was gloominess and melancholy all around me. I was feeling this after so long. I realized my fantasy was over and I had no idea how I would face my parents and friends. I dumped them all for him and now it was my turn to get dumped. This feeling made me scared and I got more desperate. I didn’t believe the truth, I still hoped what I discovered to be false. I tried calling him and texting him and finally got a reply. “How I dared going his home?” I could feel the rage. It burnt me like hell. Finally he said, he can’t be with me anymore. I being so irritating, crossing my limits and breaching his space wasn’t the one he wanted, and he felt suffocation even when he thought about me. The roof fell over my head. I got broken into pieces. It was a disbelief how some phrases can hurt so much. I was enraged. I wanted to hurt him with the pain I was feeling. I wanted to cut him in pieces, shoot him with hundreds of bullets, I just wanted to get rid of that jerk. But I was wounded. Tears fell off my cheeks. I cried and cried. I saw nothing ahead. It was all over, it was all over now. And forever. It was all dark, maybe I fainted. Everything was null and dark and in the darkness I saw a light. There was a glowing photo frame with a picture of me about 5 years old playing in my dad’s lap. I felt sad for him and every other person I loved for what I did. I felt guilty for my deed. On a race of being a dream catcher I had lost the hold on reality and now I was empty handed as I woke up.

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Siksha

The book was no special. It was just a rom-com. Simple language, simple story line with a general message, typical Chetan Bhagat. He is famous for his simplicity. The more I analyzed the book in my head, the more heavy I was feeling in the heart. That character Madhav was just not getting out of my head. The way that character was presented summoned my obliterated sins. I had to remove the qualm, so I decided to go for a walk, it was better than sitting at a place and being miserable. I needed a distraction. But it got worse. As I walked down the street, my mind completed the analogy of me with Madhav and there was this; L.H.S=99% R.H.S proved, that one percent was for my unfaithful love. I felt solitary and desolate, my fortitude sank. I felt terror with my own consciousness so I got into the bus to diminish my loneliness. Slowly my deeds came as a flashback in front of my eyes. The bus and people inside it disappeared. I saw myself with my covet, it was a sin. I had never analyzed from this angle. My lust had camouflaged my perception. I was burning in agony. I was hallucinating. I tried to come back to my senses. I rubbed my eyes and opened the adjacent window. The cool breeze blew over my face and I started shivering. It was the time when the winter was just starting, so the days are warm with cold evening. The winter of Kathmandu is atrocious. But it had helped me put out the blaze inside me. I moved my eyes around, the bus was quite deserted like my soul. I got off the bus at the last station and decided to walk home. It wasn’t that late but winter shorten the days as grief shorten life. It was all dark and the scheduled load shedding was laughing eminently at the duress of people. I had no idea which part of the city I was at. I looked around and saw a small bar blazed with colorful lights. “Shady’s Bar” was written at the entrance kindled with the light bulbs to make it visible from distance. But the smog was debilitating the vision and you couldn’t read it clearly. It was cold and I was cursed being conscious, so I decided to get drunk and went to the bar.
It was small and crowded place, full of young people. Some were even underage. The cigarette smoke was all over the place. There was all cheers and laughter. It certainly wasn’t the place for me. The light was dim inside and the smoke was doing its job. I saw an empty table at the corner and sat there. I looked around the place. The walls were painted black and maroon in some places. There were nude paintings in the wall and posters of Eminem covered all over. Maybe they named the bar after the alter-ego of Eminem, Slim Shady. I felt the bar unfriendly, Shadowy and gloomy, just like my love life. I promised myself, at least for tonight I will not be miserable living in my past. I ordered a beer and continued to look around. The bar was so distinguished, like I knew the place from a long period of time. Like it’s in me, every part of it. The raw painting depicted my innocence, dark color was my lust and maroon was my love that no one deserved. I was looking at the smoke lot that flew out of a teenager’s mouth and got into my nose. It was marijuana. With marijuana was more guilt, so was with alcohol but they only were my ally for now. I looked the other side to cut off my flow of memories. People were coming in and going out continuously and I didn’t bother for any recognized faces, until an impeccable body entered through the door. The light was dim but couldn’t shade her perfect curly hair that slicked down up to her lower ribs, her spotless creamy face was pale with cold; she had firm perfectly symmetrical breasts and curvy body. She was my height tall and slim. Maybe I was getting drunk I couldn’t help but stare at her. The dim light and the dark corner was in my favor. I wondered what was she doing here, probably meeting some friends or her boyfriend may be waiting there who is not perjurer like me. I was the bad guy again in my head and I started to hate that girl. I hated her for taking me to antecedent from where I was running away. I took a big gulp of my beer focusing my eyes on her as she walked through the aisle and disappeared. My eyes didn’t bother to search her when my senses realized my drink was over. I was feeling good finally and I needed more. I was starting to realize I was just overreacting. The novel wasn’t the reason. I was. I was being such whiner.
I needed a refill. The only waiter was busy with a bunch of teenagers preparing a hookah for them, so I myself walked to the counter. The door was closed and it was warm inside and I realized the crowd had decreased a lot. I reached the counter but had no idea of my next order. I looked around and the silver colored bottle of Magic Moment was again the antagonist of my peace. I decided to drink the antagonist. I asked for a quarter neat. The bartender asked me which my seat was and as I turned around to point it, I saw a recognized face in front of the counter. I had seen her somewhere and my senses chided for my amnesia. She was the same girl I stared for so long in my life. I felt absurd and grinned at my foolishness.
“Sir, your seat?” bartender asked again.
“That one in the right corner”, I pointed only to find it occupied. Never mind, I thought and asked the bartender to bring the drink in the table where the girl was. She was alone and the one out of two chairs in the table was empty. I looked towards her. I could see some dark spots and bruise scars in her face. She had dark circles in her face, indicating she hadn’t slept much recently. She was dressed perfectly and looked like she was from an affluent family. But I still wondered what she was doing in a place like this.
“Do you know her?” it was the bartender again.
“Who is she?” I asked him back.

“She is the first well dressed, beautiful girl without any friend I’ve seen in this bar. Otherwise only prostitutes come alone here,” He said.
“Oh,” I said and went over the table and sat in front of her. She was busy with her phone, probably texting someone and there was a Heineken beer in her table one-fourth emptied.  She was startled to see me in front of her when she raised her head. She gave me an enraged look which clearly shouted, “Who the hell are you to share my table? Get lost off my sight.” I completely ignored her metaphor and took a big gulp of my drink, forgetting it’s a vodka, not a beer! I couldn’t throw it out and my alimentary canal burned like hell. Thanks to my alcohol resistivity, I was able to hide my little amnesia problem from my face. The alcohol was burning my body but I gave a cool smile in response of her scornful look. I felt quite dizzy suddenly, but the feeling was so good, better than anything. I started to smile remembering my past days in Delhi when I with my friends used to search for a reason for celebration so we could have an alcohol party. All the memories flashed in my head and I started to giggle unconsciously. I tried to stop but it was involuntary, I started to laugh hard. She gave an amazed look at me, stared scornfully for a while and smiled, she tried to suppress but couldn’t. She also started to giggle, hiding her face. Now it was my time to be surprised. I stopped and she faced my looks now.
“What’s that, you are drinking?” she asked.
“v..o..d..k..a”, I said. My voice was shaky. I know I wasn’t nervous, maybe it was alcohol.
“Will you get me the same?” she asked and placed a Rs. 500 note in the table.
“I am not a waiter”, I defended in shock.
“I know,” She said. “But you know, I this is first time I am alone in the bar and usually people buy drinks for me. It feels awkward and lonely to do that. I am running away from solitude, will you help me, in that? It’s a request.”
I knew she is going to make me buy her a drink and I was so much irritated by my own loneliness that hearing hers could do no better. But I couldn’t hurt my ego either. So I called the waiter and asked him to get the lady the drink she wanted. She gave me a look of despair. “Fine!” I said and went to the counter and got the drink to the table. She smiled on her triumph but didn’t say a word of gratitude.
“Looks like someone here doesn’t know how to thanks people!” I murmured.
“No one thanks after punishment. That was the punishment for your act.”
I was shocked. I hated her for that. No girl in these 20 years was so hasty with me. This was the new type. Let’s see if it’s just the cover, I thought. I looked her keenly and behind her white skin I could see shades of gloom but her eyes had fortitude. She was calm.
“What?” She said, finding me staring at her.
“What are you doing all alone, this late in a desolate bar?” I asked.
“Why does it concern you? Oh, maybe you are the types of people who think, girls are vulnerable, shouldn’t roam alone at night. Let me tell you, I am not that weak. And don’t show your care. I don’t even know you. Why should I answer your question?” she displayed her annoyance over my question.
“I didn’t mean that’” was only, I could say.
“I’m sorry!” she said. But I have been through so much recently, I can’t control my frustration anymore.
“Same here”, I murmured. “My name is bezay,” I said. “Now you know me,” I grinned.
“What do you do?” was her reply.
“Well, I am a student, Bachelor 2^nd year”, I said.
“So, enjoying your father’s money, huh?” she gave me a scornful look.
I had to defend myself, “I am an intern in a leading C.A firm,” I grinned at my triumph.
“Good for you,” she said, judging my tone and looked towards the aisle, completely ignoring my existence.  
I took a sip of my drink and found myself staring at her right side of the face, the side that was in front of me. Her cheek had turned rosy from pale. There was an apple in her cheek and I wanted to take a bite. Then I realized how drunk I was.
“Siksha,” she said, turning towards me.
That suddenly brought me to my senses. “What?” I asked, unconsciously.
“My name.” she said. “Siksha.”
“Nice name!” that was spontaneous. “Siksha, Siksha,” I repeated two or three times in different tones, mocking her.
“That’s my name.” she said. “So what are your interest, except getting drunk and staring at girls?”
So she had caught me staring at her. I was coy. “Reading,” I said. “I love reading, anything except syllabus.”
“What have you read so far?” That was the must insulting questions I had ever faced. I was always praised for the number of books I have swallowed given my age. I maintained my patience and searched in my mind for the toughest book, I wanted to make her feel inept for insulting me.
“Anna Karenina, one of my favorite book” I boasted. “I have read quite a lot.”
“Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy!” she showed her all interest, “that’s my favorite too. Hell of a book, na! It took three months for me to complete for the first time. Which is your favorite part?”
What did she mean by 1^st time? Now I was in trouble. I hadn’t read Anna Karenina. I downloaded the pdf and sat twice. But that complex book full of characters and tough language and literature and over all that more than 3500 pages. I had removed the idea of reading it and watched the movie. Thank god I watched the movie. I thought I could read 10 books in the time I finish that one. Then I realized how shallow I was. I always ran behind show off, numbers, even my love was a show off. I remembered how fun it was to read one book from start to end and how I wanted it never to end. I was finding myself. I wasn’t really fond of numbers and show off but the situations had made me so. And I needed a change.
“I love the main plot. To be specific that part when Anna and Vronsky meet for the first time.”  Wow I remembered the names. And simultaneously also remembered that, that part was considered as an evil omen as the worker gets killed falling in the rail tracks. That really wasn’t the best part.
“I love that part where Anna agrees to move to Italy with Vronsky, leaving Karenin and all social and cultural barriers behind. For her love, risking own dignity. Only if we could do that in real life.” She looked serious and lost. Then she recollected herself and said, “What else?”
I was irritated by that question, so I thought of ending this once and all. “Lots,” I said again. “Shiva trilogy- great series by Amish, what a ride it was, enjoying the definition of love with Nicholas Sparks, and ruining the feeling by Stephanie Meyer…”
“Hahahah, true quoted”, she interrupted. She was listening curiously.
 “Ya”, I said. “Fifty Shades of Grey was a pain in the ass, Paulo Coelho was the savior of soul, Robin Sharma motivated me for lifetime, Jed Rubinfled’s mystry, Jane Austen’s humor, Oscar wilde’s brilliance, Harper Lee’s Innocence (I was losing my breath and It was surprising how I remembered all the names) Taslima Nasrin, Khalid Husseini, STPHEN KING (I gave more pitch to his name) Chetan Bhagat, who’s latest latest release, Half-Girlfriend, I completed yesterday”.
“Chetan Bhagat got a new book?” She gasped. Above all the greatest writers in the world I quoted, Chetan Bhagat’s half girlfriend did the job for me. And co-incidentally, I was there with her because of that book.
“Wow, someone got a big library in his head,” she finally accept her defeat. And I gave her a smile of my sweep. I took a tissue paper and wrote, “abezayprose.blogspot.com” and forwarded towards her. Oh, boy it’s really my day. She looked astonished and read the paper.
“You can read my blogs”, I said.
“So, you write also? What are they about?”
“Just the inception of what I live with each day.” “I hope you will like it.”
“I surely will.” She replied. “You are more impressive than you look. I am glad we talked.” That surely was a big blow over the face.
“I don’t think I can ever write about myself. My life is just so messy. I thought of writing sometime earlier to spare my loneliness. I write lines and I just don’t feel like writing. The sentiments and emotions stick in my head and all my excitement is lost.  I feel gloomy and it slowly disintegrates me. So I don’t even think of writing.” She smiled, hiding her grief. That was the best smile I had seen in years.
“Emotions and unsatisfied expectations, pile up over and over again, and you have no one around to share, no one to listen your story, then you find that your only true friend is that pen and paper and you start to phrase your story for them. You feel like sharing it with the world and you publish them. That’s how it goes,” I smiled back.
“These emotions sentiments should not stick inside, I believe in letting them to flow.” I added. “I hate being so sensitive,” I was speaking in the flow.
“Looks like we have a lot in common!” she giggled showing her beautiful white teeth. I hadn’t noticed them before. I wondered what would have had happened to her. She was again looking towards the aisle letting me stare at her. The bar was silent. The crowd was gone. The waiter looked sleepy and tired. But he had to still serve some drunkards. The bartender was busy making cocktails. And I, I was having the best time.

“Where are you from?” I broke the silence.
She turned towards me and asked playfully, “why?”
“Just curious.”
“I can’t give you my personal details! I barely know you, what if you turn out to be a criminal or….”
“Rapist”, I added.
“I don’t think you are a rapist! Gee, you have no scope with that body. You can’t even carry a girl.”
Well that was an insult. “You don’t need to carry a girl to rape her. I think I should show u a demo,” I said so and got up. Her face turned down, she looked nervous.

“Don’t insult my body, I am an athlete.’’ I said.

“Oh! Really? What do you play?”
“Everything, sort of.” We both laughed out loud. This was the first time she was laughing loud.
“I used to be a badminton player. I played national level.” She added.
I was flushed. I realized there was no scope. She was just best in everything.
“Do you play now?” that was the stupidest question.
“No, I don’t.”
“Why?”
“I had some problems with my back and my physician suggested to quit. Then from an athlete I turned out to be a lazy girl who just spends her time watching T.V.” she was lost again as she spoke. There was a dissatisfaction in her or being her.
“I was in bed rest for a month. I watched lot of sitcoms. My dad used to bring me the CDs,” she swallowed her breath. Trying to recollect herself, she asked, “Do you watch Sitcoms?”
I was alarmed. I was gazing at her unconsciously. “ya..”, I said. “there was a time”. Then I detailed how me and my friends used to have HIMYM, BBT marathon.
“Oh, those are my best shows,” she said. “Who is your favorite character in BBT?”
“Raj”, I replied. I generally say Sheldon, but today was the guilt day. “That character is so much like me.”
“What you can’t talk with ladies without being drunk?” she raised her eyebrows.
“Ya something like that. Or maybe because he got Emily. God, I love Laura Spencer”, that came out spontaneously.
“I also think she is gorgeous. It’s so awkward that our likes are so similar. I think you are just saying. How can our likes be so similar?”
“I am stunned myself?”
“Ok the lets have a test. I will ask you the field and you say what you like best. Lets start.”
“Ok. But ask me boyish matter. No idea about girlish things.”
“Ok. Football?”

“Argentina.”

“Cricket?”
“I don’t watch much cricket. So I go with my own country. Nepal. I do watch 20-20 though.”
“Same here. Only IPL”.
“I love KKR in IPL”.
“Dude, do you read mind or what?” that was her response.
We laughed for while over that. She was drunk. I saw her drink it was over. Then I realized when she turned towards the aisle, she used to drink it. I was so much into the conversation, I hadn’t taken a sip. And I didn’t feel like drinking either.
“EPL”
“Manchester United”. Her eyes brighten. This one my friend contradicts. She was relieved. “I love Chelsea.”
I hated her for that. I hated Chelsea, each player of the team. She was still giggling.
Suddenly my hangover was down. In her face I saw my girlfriend I didn’t love. I felt pathetic again. I asked her, ‘’Now we have spoken for a while, what type of person do you think I am?”

She looked directly into my eyes. “Oh, you have dense eyes”, she giggled. I realized I was talking serious with a drunk girl. And over that I asked her to be serious.

“Um,’’ she said. “Let me gather the information. You read a lot, so you are knowledgeable, you write, you are creative,  you are humorous, a little stupid, (she said making face) you are a KKR fan so you like the best and for being a Man U fan, I should say, you don’t lose hope in difficult time.”
Was that an insult? No one had used so many adjectives for me before. Lots of new things were happening for sure.
“I love to be praised”, I said.
She shook her head and smiled. The waiter came to us and said that it was 10 pm and it was the closing time. I was shocked listening to him. It was 10 pm at night. I had no idea where I was. Siksha laughed seeing my face.

“Let’s go”, she said.

We slowly got out of the bar, it was cold outside. The waiter shut the shutter and turned the lights off. The city was still dark, the load shedding prevailed. Another darkness was filling my soul. It was the time for me to be me again. The cold was tearing me apart. I was feeling weak. I wanted to throw up. I looked at her. She was walking, rubbing her hands. Absolutely normal.
“I had a good time.” She said.
“How will we meet again?” I asked out of desperation.
“We won’t.”
“What? Why? You can’t decide everything. I want your phone number, address or at least add me in Facebook.” I screamed in agony.

“I can’t meet you again, Bezay. I don’t want us to be familiar. If we end here, you shall cherish me forever, you will hate me, knowing the real me. I don’t want you to hate me.”

I disagreed. I did all I could but she was heartless. At last she said, “OK it’s a bad idea but we can give it a second chance.”

“How?”

“We met today by chance. I can’t schedule my time or give you any hope because I don’t have any. So if by any chance we meet again, then we shall think about it.”

I loathed her even more for that. I never wanted to meet any person so brutal again, but her. I wanted to be with her.

“But please promise me that you won’t search for me.”
 I remembered Madhav and his search for Riya. I couldn’t do that for certain. “I won’t look for you”. I said, lost.

“Ok, then I must go,” She said. I was not able to comprehend what was happening. I hated the alcohol for that. I was just staring at her and looking her lips move. She leaned forward and kissed me in the cheek.
“You are the best person, I met.” “Thank you” was her last word.
I came to senses feeling the warmth in my cheeks. I saw her walking ahead. There was a Skoda parked. She got inside and pulled the window down. I could see her waving me good bye.
“Can you drive? You are drunk”, I shouted.
I only heard goodbye over the sound of engine. I couldn’t hold and threw up three times. I tried to control myself, but the cold had made me weak. My cheek was still warm. I wished she had kissed me all over my body, I would be saved. I collapsed. 

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Kagbeni Part I: Thorang La

I was shaken by yesterday’s headlines: 18 people died in snow storm in Mustang, Thronag Lha, a place where I was just ten days back. There was no sign of snow then, it wasn’t even that cold. Lots of people mostly foreign tourists, their guides and trekking aids were met in the way. The place was so much is peace and totally safe. I must say I had never been to a place so cruel and yet tempting. Everyone underestimated the mountains. They laughed at it. They had had victory over it. And the mountains as well didn’t care about anything. It was the wild, on its own. Gulping and restraining every other step of yours and the air; well it had an attribute of filling your mind with fear and terror. The periphery was so beautiful and yet gloomy. No one wanted to stay there. Everyone in a race with themselves to cross those hills, but everyone wanted to be there. Those hills were the symbols of difficulty and people wanted to have victory over it, put in their life book that they won and Thorang Lha lost. The only purpose for this was to overcome the obscurity of life, maybe every human search that for a life time in different Thorang Lhas. The mountains were tempting. It promised to relieve you from sullen and melancholy forever. It played with our mind. The higher you go, the shallow you feel. Heavier in the heart and more difficult even to breathe in that thin air. Slowly it ceases your solace and fills you with fear and discontent, slowly controls over you and makes you to quit your life in its womb. Thorang Lha has killed lots of people before too. The unpredictable mountains, you never know what’s there for you when you reach the top.
Thorang Lha pass is located at about 5400m height from the sea level. It’s a pass between Manang and Mustang, the districts beyond the mountains. It’s the most challenging trekking route in Nepal. The trekkers start from Besisahar, Lamjung, pass the Annapurna Base camp, climb over Thorang Lha pass and cross the pass to get to Mustang and Muktinath. Some even trek up to Jomsom or Kagbeni. It’s the route, most favored, possible to trek on and conquerable. I choose the opposite. The unfavoured, tough and so called “the impossible”. I planned to go from Muktinath to Chembur to Thorang Lha to Annapurna Base camp and finally to Besisahar. Yes, that was the plan which everyone suggested me not to do. The earlier night, decided to quit the idea and return cherishing what an astonishing trip I had. The plan was getting a bus and returning back next morning. I woke up at the dawn. I felt something inside me, continuously suggesting there was more. It wasn’t over yet. The journey I was in wasn’t complete. It pulled me outside the bed and I found myself climbing the stairs of Muktinath temple, the temple of the god of Salvation. In no time I climbed over 100 stairs and reached there. It was cold and I was underdressed but the chilly wind had a tender pleasure for my soul. I looked at the two little water pools, I had survived the thrill of being in it and losing my senses for some seconds. I looked around, there were people running, shouting and even crying below the 100 little taps flowing the ice water and their sins were being washed away. I sat there and recollected my journey in search of the missing part. The only thing missing was Thorang Lha.
I had collected few data and information about the path. The trekkers I met told me that the way was too steep and tough from the Mustang side, the side I was trying from. The two girls one Chinese and next probably Russian, who had just reached Muktinath told me that the way was too long, tough and unimaginable from the Mustang side. The hotel owner directly said that it was impossible for me to cross the pass. The more research I did, only the traits of impossibility piled up. That was the reason for my decision to quit that night and now the idea was reinstated. I was convinced that I was just being afraid of an obscure enemy I hadn’t even met. I was quitting and running away. The journey meant a lot for me. It was supposed to be an epiphany for me. I had lots of propositions to be enlightened. I had achieved a lot already and some were still out there haunting me, the most important ones. And this walk of impossible was tempting me to search my answers in it, it certainly had lots of secrets hidden in it.
We started late. It was already 8 am when we reached Chembur. There were few kitchens and it was the last place to relax. There was only slopes, rugged path and fatigue ahead. When we explained about our motive to the trekkers and kitchen owners, they suggested us, it was very tough, not impossible but tough. It was better not to go. A lady even claimed that we shall suffer from altitude sickness. I had done few researches in that too, and I had prepared myself for that. The real journey of endurance started from Chembur. There was only one way, climbing the rough hills. Pushing oneself ahead. No trees, no shades, nothing to hold on or catch, only the flag poles between the distance of about  500 m kept to ensure the trekkers are in the right way. Slowly the bag in my back started to be heavier, my legs decided not to walk and only my obstinate motivation of crossing the Thorang Lha was making me move ahead. I used to walk a while and look back to see an unimaginably steep path I just walked by. The feeling used to re-energize me and I moved ahead slowly. I had a companion, more motivated, punctual and perceptive. He continuously suggested me to follow a system, a system to enforce myself to utilize my inner strength and reinforce me to walk more stable and swift. He was worried that I was showing the sign of fragility and it was going to be more difficult ahead. There was another bigger problem waiting for us if we failed to cross the pass by daylight. There were people in that deserted land, lots of passersby, but only from opposite direction, the favored path. With each and every one we talked to only threw back confounded expressions, some even praised our guts, many of them still suggested us to quit and some even scolded us that we were in a suicide trek. But we carried on. We every talk my motivation was failing. Slowly I started to accept, this really was a madness, I was doing because of my ego. I had already walked a lot during the whole trip. My stamina was very low when I started that day, now it was almost nil. We surely had started very late, so it was going to be more difficult due to sturdy wind and who knows maybe snowfall. And besides all these reasons the most pressing one was the opinion of all these trekkers. They all agreed at the same thing, we should quit. A fear had developed that was dissolving all my motivation but we didn’t stop walking until at a point we decided to stop, quit and return. The place we stopped was the Thorang Lha for us, it was surely a place of Marvel. It was the end of a hill and a start of new one. We were at about 5000 m height, still halfway from our destination. We could see layers of mountains, one after another till the horizon. The most magical thing about the place was its perfect silence. Not even the blowing wind made any sound. We stopped and waited. Few people passed by and few stopped to talk with us. When the listened about our trek, they were surprised how we even made up to here.
There was a stage of tranquility inside me finally. I hadn’t crossed the Thorang Lha but I wasn’t less satisfied. I was elated for coming there. My happiness outbrusted ripping the silence. I laughed loud and shouted my guts out and the mountains did the same. I promised the mountains I shall be back to complete my journey. Next time earlier and more prepared. I failed this time but I vowed next time I shall defeat the impossible. Cross the Thorang Lha.  

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BBT

My heart was pounding in my neck and stomach filled with butterflies, made me lose all my patience when I came to know that new season of Big Bang Theory was finally aired. Yes, it was a matter of an immense concern and desperation for me. I was desperately waiting for the 8^th season to air. The wait started as soon as 7^th season was finalized. Today I was just switching the channels when suddenly I read the header on Zee Café, “Up Next-Big Bang Theory season-8”. I was perplexed, totally overwhelmed, puzzled. First the channels only showed old episodes and second I didn't know this was the time of the year for the premiere. I had no options than to wait and watch. I sticked to the channel and watched the episode. It was new. As soon as the episode was over, I rushed to the internet and checked and finally confirmed myself that the new season premiered on 22^nd September 2014. I nearly jumped. Six episodes had already been telecasted. Thanks to torrent I can download it anytime, then I remembered how shitty slow the internet is. Anyway I put one episode to download and browsed through Wikipedia. As I scrolled down the stories of different seasons and episodes one by one, all my life moments attached to the show slowly came forth.

It was my friend Bibush, who introduced the show to me for the first time, not long ago though, maybe two years back. At that time our circle in Delhi had an obsession about T.V serials. “How I Met Your Mother” was the most trending one. Everyone was watching that show, day and night and they were watching it over and over again, everyone was talking about that show. My roommate at that time, Prajoal was one of the victim of T.V serial addiction. Thanks to my another addicted friend Nabin, Prajoal had forgotten to eat or sleep. I have no idea how or who started it first but slowly our rooms were converted into small theatres. I was saved from the addiction at that time. Maybe I had not much interest in those things and maybe the main reason was my sub circle of friends where the members were totally out of such addiction. When I used to get to the room, I would see Prajoal facing the Laptop screen, with headphones tight in his ears and concentrating so hard not letting even a single moment to be missed. The expressions in his face used to change according to the events in the show. He used to laugh loud, bang his fists on the bed, smile gently, sometimes gloomy sometimes happy. I could clearly diagnose, he was living in the show. I also started to fantasize watching and I even tried to watch with him then with Nabin then with both of them together but the problem was they were way ahead with the show and I was left feeling dumb. So, I decided it wasn’t for me, at least not for now. But something had struck on me, something had moved and I needed something of equivalence. Maybe the time was as such. I started feeling restlessness. And that was the time when Big Bang Theory came into my life. It was chosen. I selected it among the highly rated shows like, Friends, Prisonbreak, Two and a half men and many others. There was no specific criteria for the selection, the show just suited to be my ideal show. I loaded my device with the episodes till it was fully filled and started watching it. Now it was my time to get stuck up. The time stopped, things stopped and slowly I started feeling for me that no other world exist than the show of those five people, four nerds and a beauty.

The show was fabulous. It was exactly what I wanted to watch. Exactly what I fantasized. The characters were so lively and perfect. And the best thing was the story moved according to the fantasy and my fantasy expanded according to the story. I re-characterized the characters myself. They were now part of my newly formed friends circle. My talks started to fill with their descriptions, the lovers of the show were my best friends and I started to hate, even my close friends, if they said anything negative about the show. It was like a seducing drug for me, the more I watched, the more I wanted to watch. And the most restless and antsy time was that when I couldn’t get my hands on the episodes I hadn’t watched. I had no reliable internet and that felt like a curse. I even befriend some strangers just to get the new episodes. I watched and re-watched the show and there was a time when the dialogues and storyline of each episode was on my mouth tip and I could narrate anytime anywhere.

The show is simple. Sheldon Cooper portrayed by Jim Parsons, is a theoretical physicist at Caltech University, Pasadena, California. He got his Ph.D at the age of 16. Can you believe that? At 16. And he was sad, he didn't get more early when he meets a boy from Japan who got his Ph.D at 14. Leonard Hobstrator, counterpart of Sheldon is the practical physicist in the same university with an impressive IQ of 173. He is the lover boy. Quite my type. First shy to approach a girl, and loving at first sight, running behind her, getting her, impressing her and then doing something foolish and ruining everything, finally losing her and striving to get her back, until he gets a new one. And there is a neighbor, sweetie, sexy Penny. Maybe its because of her, the show has so much vibe in it besides the comedy. Talking by experience, anywhere you talk about BBT, you will find at least one nerd, who shall point that Penny is sexy and is living his life fantasizing someday he shall get a girlfriend like Penny. And there is short dwarfy Howard Wolowitz, the engineer, astronaut, kind of only achiever in the group in the work field but is the main material of jokes in the show, mostly because he is only one in the group who is not a doctor, besides Penny and second he is stupid. There is Raj, the “no talk with girls without alcohol” syndrome. He has given the representation of oriental community and made the show universal. Besides them, there is Amy, Bernadette, Stuart, Leslie and many more. The director duo Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady, really genius to gather such an awesome star cast and prepare a show like BBT. Hats off to you guys, the world does.

But its not all. The series means a lot more to me. Nothing just becomes a best friend of yours. I myself was surprised why I got so much attached with the show. So I decided to watch other shows as well. After BBT I watched “How I met your mother”, all episodes, Prison break, all episodes and lots of other shows. And I must say, they are not less. Maybe they more better, entertaining and thrilling than BBT. But no other show could capture a space in my heart that BBT has. Maybe because I started it at the time of despair and desperation. Maybe it gave me the moments of fun and entertainment when I was filled with loneliness and glooms. And maybe it was the most powerful weapon of mine when I had to face the fantastical war of ideas with my kins. Maybe there were other reasons. It showed me a new dimension of life. It gave me a new reason of love and hope. It totally amended my concept of friendship and fun. My love life turned like that of Leonard and Penny’s, my attitude as of Sheldon’s, my innocence as of Raj’s, I flirted as Howard and had lots of break ups because my girlfriends couldn't match Penny.

But there is something different about today’s excitement; the premiering of Season 8. It was supposed to be the last season (thank to the show unit, they decided to elongate three more years). End of season 7 was devastating. Everything had fallen off. So was the walls of my life. Everything had scattered, everything was changed. Leonard and Penny were engaged, Howard and Bernadette moved, Sheldon was leaving the town and Raj got a new girlfriend, Emily. I was happy for Raj, sad for Sheldon and I really hated Leonard for letting Sheldon go. I was really desperate to watch what shall happen next. I hope this new season shall be more fabulous and fantastic than ever.

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Time

The biggest gift anyone can give to anyone is time. And also the biggest gift anyone gets is time. Time is never his or hers. Its time. Its selfish,  doesn't belong to anyone. It can never be utilized or wasted. But surely it can be lived. Every moments of it. Humans have succeeded in calculating time, denoting it was never difficult and they even bifurcated it, hours, minutes, seconds. This has made us conscious of time as something that shall end, something that has boundaries or limitations. The day is over, finnaly its the year end or we shall die one day. We have started to fear about it. Its no more about moments, its about seconds and minutes and days and years and lifetime. We count the every move the clock makes and feel miserable losing a second followed by minutes and hours. I heard people say that the watch is one of the finest invention, maybe it is. It is so powerful to ensalve us to a mystical master, Time.
Everyday we come across a lot of events. A beautiful flower has just blossomed in the garden, a child is just born somewhere in the medical section or the moon is shinning so beautifully in the night sky. We see the flowers, we listen the child's cry and enlighten with the moons lights. We cherish those moments, we love those. We want to stay with those, satisfy ourself. But we are already late. The minutes and hours hand are revolving all over our mind. Every second someone somewhere is achieving more, knowing more, earning more while we are wasting our time with the flowers and moon. Every second we waste, we are losing our portion to someone else and someone else is moving ahead of us. He is winning. We wont achieve anything staring the flowers or moon, its just the waste of our precious time. The time we could use in something productive.
I see small kids play, the kids that have no knowledge that something called time exist. They can do anything they like. They play hours long with a worthless wheel and they are not guilty of losing time. They don't care if they have done something productive. They are not yet enslaved. They live in moments. Everything they see, everything they do is new for them. Everything is innovative. In every try they discover a new fact of the world. They don't do the same thing everyday. They are not scared of deadlines or overtime. Maybe thats the reason why they are happy for foolish reason. At the end of everyday I realise I lost a day of my life. What did I do? The same thing. Did I live the day for myself or being myself? What did I gain for losing a day of my life? Did it worth it? I really don't have answers for these questions. I console myself, whats gone is gone, tomorrow shall be a better day. And I am stuck with these everlasting yesterdays and tomorrows. All yesterdays converts into our experiences and all tomorrows our plannings. And we puppet around these, everyday. We are, who we are for a lot of reasons. We have experiences and plannings but they shall never define the real us. We don't have power to change where we come from. But still we can choose where we go from here. Live a life like as a puppet or live a life. The nature gives us chances. The events repeat. A new flower blossoms everyday and we shall distinguish it from the yesterday's. We shall count the moments we live not in minutes or seconds. Then we shall never regret what we couldn't achieve in the past or worry about the uncertain future because we shall be so busy with what we behold in present. We shall discover uniqueness in same thing we do everday. All these uniqueness shall make us happy and satisfied. And at the end of the day when we look back we realise each day worth a lot, each experience are life changing and we are never guilty of losing a day from our life.
But what about the world we live in? What about the competitions where every second counts? Enjoying the moments cannot provide us with good grades or good money without which we are a failure in the society. On the one side we have a failure we face to be ourselves. On the other side we have a failure to suit in this civilised world. There is a failure at anything we do for sure. So its all about choices. What we choose? What kind of failure we want. Either we want a luxurious life which we can't live to ourselves or we want to live a life, of course of which we deserved better and wealthy if only we had made different choices. Once I read about a golden cage. There were men inside and outside the cage. Those man outside the cage found it to be fascinating to be inside it. What would be the interiors of golden walls? They imagined of luxury and were ready to go in. They competed and fought with each other to get in. But they found gloomy and dark shadows inside. They were now captured by evil and fear and competed to get to the top of the prison. They convinced themselves that being in the top is only the way out. But the more they try to go above in the prison the more inner they went. And finally it was impossible to get out.
This story is analogous to our life. The golden prison is the life we are living presently. We try to run faster, complete our task faster, be at the top after which we imagine that we shall not have to run anymore. But when we reach the top we found out the person at the top requires more speed than ever. Slowly we regret being at the top. And at the end of the day we feel guilty for losing our precious time for nothing. And all this started out of a simple choice,  how we want our life to be?

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Her-Motherland Dairy II

When I first heard she was coming to my city, I didn’t care much. Why would I care? She was no one for me. I was busy playing hand brick game as Nimesh and Saroj were talking about her. I had to win Subash. He was showing off, I had to win. I was fully focused on winning and nothing else. “she has a brother too, dad, mom, whole family are shifting here. Really sweet and lovely girl. She lights the room with her smile. Where ever she goes she spreads happiness for sure”, Nimesh was saying. And I got shot. Ten points less to break subash’s record. He snatched the game and started playing. My rage was rising and my ego was boiling as hot lava. “I don’t have any idea why they are moving here”, Saroj was saying, “maybe her dad is being transferred by his office. But its good to have them here”. They were talking about her new house. It was Ashim’s house, maybe Ashim’s dad sold it out. I had gone there before, I acknowledged that by heart. “she will be in your class”, Nimesh said to me. I was in 4^th grade at that time. Nimesh was senior than us, about 4 years senior. He was a genius. Everyone said so. He scored good marks in studies. He with Subash was so much innovative. They used to make nuts gun, bamboo bicycle and many other items. This used to fascinate me. That’s why I used to be with them. I was a small, lean and thin boy. Very quite, people didn’t used to realize I was there. There are lots of instances of that. When I heard Nimesh saying that to me infront of everyone, I blushed. I was really a shy boy, I must say, I used to blush anywhere if in any topic I was the one being talked about. Subash was shot. He was devil smiling. He had set a new record, he was sure unbeatable. But I was not among the quitter. It was late already so we left that day. I practiced whole night.

Next day, after school when I went to Nimesh’s house with Subash, there was a different environment. There were quite a many people than usual, bags and suitcases, and new faces. There was a little girl, quite taller but skinny, yes of course very beautiful. She was sitting next to a little boy, probably her brother, and chattering. She was talking and talking. She was conversing with around 10 people present there at the same time, answering everyone’s question. She and her brother made fun of their previous school’s name around 20 times in that 10 minutes. I realized this was the girl they were talking about yesterday. The smile of light girl. She really had that beautiful smile but the room was lighted by electric bulb! Suddenly I was thrilled and I blushed when Nimesh introduced me to her. She looked towards me and smiled, I didn’t move or speak. After a pause she continued her babbling again. She was supposed to come to my class. I thought of the class  and I knew she is going to have a really good friendship with Vawana. They had a common trait, chattering trait. Vawana was renowned for chattering. She even had got a nickname, I am not going to disclose and get killed. And as I thought among 22 girls in the class she became friend, bench partner, besty with Vawana.

They were right. She really was a smiley, always happy, spreading happiness type girl. I remember those days, being kids, happy good days, we had our own fun things to do, absolutely unexplainable. We used to sing in the class, whole class, at one rhythm, poems of Nepali and English literature books, we all were so innocent and so much united. I with Sanad and don’t remember who, used to sit in the first bench. Behind that she used to sit with Vawana and Sushmita. I was always a first bencher. Initially because I was a small kid and later I liked it sitting in the first bench. Sanad was my best friend. We used to fight 24*7. Let me quote an interesting instance of our fight. One we had a fight with Sanad during Health lecture. The teacher was already uncomfortable as he was teaching female reproductive organs and above that we irritated him. He became fierce and threw us out of the classroom. He asked us to go straight to the Principal’s office. That was the most scary thing in the world to do. So we hid in the toilet that whole lecture. Vawana used to get very irritated by our fight. She used to hit us both. We couldn’t fight back, we didn’t want to die that young. But she was our rescuer. At the beginning though. Later she too joined Vawana in exploiting us. Sushmita was a quite child. Shy, just blushed and smiled on everything. Our houses were near. Vawana, Sushmita, Niraj, Subash and her house was with in neighborhood. There was a large open area where we all kids used to gather and play. We had various fun games. She was always on my side. Maybe because I always won! I used to run real fast, outnumbering everyone. She didn’t allow anyone other than her in my team. Though I talked very less with her in school or home or anywhere, we had grew being the best of friends metaphorically. I felt that. No! I didn’t have any crush on her. I had crush on every other girl than her. But I loved her as my kin. She was really gorgeous and her smile was the most beautiful in the world. Whenever she used to smile I remembered the day when I first heard about her and remember my imagination trying to picture her smiling. I used to write songs for her to sing in the class. She used to correct the lyrics and I used to embarrassed in my every mistakes, but I loved it when she corrected them.

Every new year we had a tradition of gifting new year cards with special message to our friends. Niraj and I used to go to the card shop early in the morning and buy cards. We used to first gift each other. Then we used to send it to other friends. These cards had poems, almost same poem in every card. But that year I had one special card with a special message:

“Tarjeta Hermosa a la chica mas bella del mundo

Quiero tu sonrisa nunca se desvanece

Podra este Nuevo ano trae toda la felicidad purati

Gracias por ser mi amigo”

I never gave her that card, please don’t ask why because I also don’t have any answer for that. Slowly time was slipping off our ground, we were growing along with the ages. The age of expressed love and relationships started. She was connected to different guys. I never really felt sinner. Things changed with time, we weren’t the same but my card was. It was just lying in the drawer, enveloped and addressed waiting for its dispatch. Then one day I heard she and her family were shifting elsewhere. She was going away. I felt heavy in my chest for no reason. I convinced myself, there’s no justification for feeling this way. It was a sin. I had to be rational and indifference to that situation. But it went opposite. Emotions got over me. I left everything aside and rushed to her with my little envelope. But it was late. She was gone forever. 

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The Ugly Side

Conjoiner, rejoinder, poisoner, concealer, revelator. Look at it, rising up and rising down, taking everything with it. Even though the writer said he was just describing the water waves but for these words resemble life ways. Life plays games with us and with our emotions, it plays with our imagination. Whenever anyone writes out of his imagination, we generally call it fiction. Which means not real. If imagination is fiction it should cease to exist when pen stops. But does it cease to exist? Or it grows out of little words in the paper and form a garden of dreams in readers mind.

I came across this this book, “The Faults in our Stars” by John Green. It was few months back and even though I had a busy schedule I started flipping the pages. It was the novel about a exaggerated melodramatic love of some teenagers suffering from cancer. The same regular story, they talk about death, cry fearing of separation, both fight to live and fulfill each other’s wishes and one shall die at the end and another shall live a miserable life thereafter. But the writer presents the end artistically showing that the living one live in the sweet past memories. I didn’t read the book. I read few pages and honestly speaking I couldn’t stand it. Not because I became emotional or sentimental due to the heart-touching story NO. I threw it away because it’s a crap. For your information I am not talking about the book or its content being crap, it’s the bestseller. One doesn’t just become a bestseller. I am calling it a crap because I felt like it’s a crap when I was reading it. After reading Nicholas Sparks, Cecelia Ahern, Stephen Chopsky all these years, living a life in their stories, crying with the tragedies, enjoying the moments of love, kayak with Noah and Ellie, staging with Landon and Jamie, slowly they became the part of my life. May be I was turning out to be the kids that adults pity on as Green says. I believed there is life after novel ends. My life. Maybe I was the side effect to an evolutionary process, a failed experiment on mutation. I was believed the writer was writing about me. Every time It was my own story. Its insane isn’t it? A man in America who doesn’t even know that I exist and I believe that he writes about me. What can be more crazier than that.

When I look back now I realize its all about how you feel about anything. And I felt that its’ all crap. The novel is made into a movie which is the blockbuster as well. After seeing all the appreciation for John Green I decided to try reading again. I downloaded the PDF and started reading. I read almost halfway this time and left. This time I found something in that book and that’s the reason why I am writing all these. The reason is Peter Von Houten and his “an imperial Affliction”. I was impressed by the idea of incomplete book. I goggled it to find that peter von houten is not a real person and neither any book by the name of “An imperial Affliction exists”.  The idea is awesome. He beautifully portrayed the two major consequent of nature, the beauty and the Ugly. It’s the geniuses of John Green. He portrayed the book “An Imperial Affliction” as the symbol of beauty and the character Peter Von Houten as Ugly. The natural combination of beauty and ugly is presented in the novel, as the sun and shade, light and heat, love and pain. After talking about all these anyone wonders what real is beauty or ugly that I am talking about. And I have the same answer that I have already stated, depends on perspective. But I can define ugly. After I came across the novel “the 3 comrades” by Enrich Maria Ramareq, I got the hint what really is ugly. Ugly is simple. It’s just the lack of beauty. But beauty is not that simple. And being a male sex it’s even more difficult for me. Yes, that’s right when I analyzed the phenomenon of beauty I came to understand that women know what beauty is. They have that in them. They just don’t realize that. An infant girl, then a girl child, then a teenager and a young women in all stages of life they define beauty. That’s not with men. Women define beauty in any social role, a daughter, sister, a girlfriend, wife, a mother in every role of this life they deliver beauty. I analyzed this fact from various perspective. I analyzed Patricia’s act of not letting Lokhamp see her in the deathbed, she knew the beauty of it. Jamie knew what beauty is, she wanted to get married before she died. There are lots of character that can be quoted here but its irrelevant. Even though I boasted I got the hint of beauty but I must say I don’t have any concrete words to express that what I know. But I have an experience though. I can share that. Its just one experience of subconscious acting over me, eyes stared, didn’t blink and imagination rolled on. That’s all. Let me make it less subtle. Once read this story about a squirrel that saw a gold coin at the end of the rainbow. He was happy to see it, it worked as a good work for him. One day he climbed the rainbow to get the coin  and when he reached there, the coin turned out to be a cornflake. In this story, the squirrel feeling happy seeing the coin is beauty. But squirrel climbing the rainbow to get it is ugly.

I am not saying  what I read all these years is crap. I want to read these again and again. I want to cry again when Jamie says she’s dying of leukemia, thrill with experiences of Dorian Grey, feel love with Noah and Ellie and flirt with Patricia. I am so fortunate that I lived through those moments and I am ready to sacrifice anything to live that beauty again.  But I am displeased with the ugly side of it. It haunts me every night. I regret why I went through all these crap and tried to educe them in my life. It ruined everything. I regret that.

References:
the faults in our stars
the 3 comrades
the picture of Dorian Grey
the walk to Remember
the Notebook

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BUDO - Motherland Diary

His first entrance was spectacular. I remember that day every time we talk about him. Maybe that first impression of him got imprinted in my mind and affected the perspective towards him. After all these years when everyone in my circle thinks him as a phony or Mr. Show off, some part of my mind disagrees.

It was the time when teachers were quitting Motherland. Maybe it was related to some monetary disagreements. And in two weeks we had seen people of various complexions, shapes, sizes and brain who pro-claimed to be our science teacher from now on. Everyday a different person came in and taught us something never heard of in science, surprise us, get confused himself and is never seen again. I guess most them were college students and they taught us what they were learning in college, they had no idea about our syllabus. I still remember being taught the whole extraction process of copper metal in grade 7. This problem was maybe a panic for the administration but we had find a way to make fun out of it. We used to name them as per their looks. First week we implicated them as a retired rickshaw driver (guy with a sweaty yellow shirt), pan wale (guy with pan stains on his clothes), bhaiya (dark complexioned), fatty (fat guy), lure (thin guy) and so on was our list. We used to see the pattern and guess what type of person shall come next day, we even bet on the shapes and sizes. It was a Sunday morning and we were expecting to see a new unique item to come in for the teachers’ trial. We had guessed someone lanky with a sparrow voice shall come in, and to our surprise, he comes in. Tall, broad shoulder, heavily built, pimpled and wrinkled face with moustage, carrying his bag in his left hand, accompanied by the principal. The principal used to accompany the teacher, show him the class and introduce among the students. It was a daily routine. When he came in, we all got up and shouted in one voice, ‘Good morning Sir’ as it was the culture to wish the teacher when he comes in. Hari sir, the principal of the school, looked stunned and I saw him smile for the first time and introduced the guy as our new friend and a new student of our class. That guy blushed and I don’t remember him talking with anyone that whole day. It was a surprise for us all too. And we had got a new topic to gossips. I remember we kids used to gossip and talk behind the back, it was a different fun and we had our secrets and trust so it didn’t mattered a lot. All day everyone was peeking and laughing at him. We all thought he was clearly unfit for 7^th grade and he will be transferred to another higher grade. We also started to sought for the reasoning of sending this old looking guy to our class. Someone placed the idea that maybe he failed and repeated the same class for two or three years. We got him a name, “Budo” and concluded the day declaring him a dumb kid.

Genius he was, in all fields. Academics, we got a new school topper, sports, our class then never lost a football or volleyball match, even with the 10^th graders, ECAs he was the most confident one. Soon he was the most popular guy in the school, the icon and the favorite of all teachers. But he never was a ladies man. I never saw him dating or talking much with girls but he used to talk about girls for sure. With rise of Budo, fictional groups started to fragment our class. These groups were formed because of self-ego and jealousy. Maybe we were growing and all these things were natural. Talking about the groups, there was this Budo’s group, few in number trying to show their superiority on Budo’s popularity and get profited, like we call “chamcha” type in Nepali. There was another group, the back benchers, more in number and everyone was the hero and each one was the leader. They fought with themselves and also for themselves. They didn’t care for anyone or anything, not even the warnings of the principal. They soon had a clash with the Budo’s group, turn out to be rebels and thus started a cold war. There was the third group, our group, the neutral group. We didn’t like the Budo, so we weren’t in Budo’s group, many of us liked the back benchers as they were old friends but sincerely speaking we were scared to join their group as they were involved in tussles, fights and addictions. We didn’t want warnings from the principal, we wanted good grades and self-discipline. But we needed them as well, after all we all were friends. So it was a kind of situation where we neutrals weren’t in any sides and were in every sides. Cold war was another topic making news those days. And a new power came to rise. Nimesh. I didn’t want to write anyone’s name in this blog post, but Nimesh is a person who can only be identified by his name, there is no any individual trait to distinguish him, he was a complete package with all characteristic but purely balanced. Nimesh was a good guy, just as us all, neutral but he surely had a devil inside him. He had a political mind. His neurotic or psychotic formation worked and he was able to make a mark. He got a name Shive when he showed his devil side and soon allied with the backbenchers group. He came out as a real threat to Budo’s group. Nimesh was in our circle so we always supported him. When I look back today maybe I didn’t oppose Nimesh in any of his tantrums and always supported him was because of Firdos. Firdos was a hidden genius. You won’t believe but he didn’t talk with anyone, not even teachers for three earlier years in Motherland. We grew together and were best of friends. The other reason I was with Nimesh was that I didn’t really care what was going on. We had studies, lectures and teachers to face every day.

Next year we had an intra-school chess tournament. I had just learnt to play chess and I was so much excited to participate. I got Budo as the initial stage opponent who defeated me in four moves! I was stunned, surprised to believe. He gave me a next chance as only 30 seconds had over of 10 minutes allocated time. I lost again. I felt humiliated and that fueled my ego. I practiced chess more, read playing strategies, watched matches, played a lot and I was finally prepared. And at 10^th grade we again had an intra-school tournament. This time again I got Budo as my first round opponent and this time I mercilessly defeated him. That was quite a revenge for me. I won the whole tournament that time.

As I called Budo, not a ladies man, we got to hear about his one and only affair at 10^th grade. Rumors and claims in terms in terms of crushes and affairs are common at teenage. We witnessed boys prosecuted and beaten for a love letter, some even got rusticated from the school. The most dreadful fight is that of “economics class”, I don’t want to discuss about this here. It feels strange now but we had crushes from so young age, we were not even teens. I now think that so naïve we were. I don’t want to talk about the couples or crushes but rather I will provide a true fact that used to happen for real. We all used to interact with each other in the classroom or neighborhood, all boys and girls. We used to see things in movies, read in stories, things like love, affairs and risks. And I can tell you nothing attracts more a kid than a feeling of taking risk. We used to fuel up ourselves with attractions, sometimes peer pressure or claims would also work. As the attractions grew, crushes developed and if it ends being one sided then nothing would be more miserable. Worse than that was the guts of the person to confess. Even if the guy confessed it would be more complex and in one way or the other he is surely going to feel miserable. I can revive, affairs were more dangerous, you don’t know what you do wrong in excitement and change your life forever. Experienced, battle-scared, gone through, so I know a little about it! Budo was also in an affair as I heard. They said it ended in a tragic note. How and why I don’t know, I didn’t want to know either. I just remember one thing in this matter that he told me one day, ”When you love someone at teenage, it’s not really a love, an everlasting experience, it’s just an attraction, a short term. You feel like you love the person more than anything else and when that person ignores you that triggers your ego and if you keep on fueling that ego, it shall destroy lives.” I didn’t understand then, I clearly understand now.

When I recollect the memories of school days, Budo is a person, inevitable, Mr. Show-off but also a genius, filthy mouthed but also a true friend and I must confess I got to learn a lot from him. He is a person who taught me that for achieving something just working hard is not enough, you should move your whole life towards achieving that.

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