BuS , eArthquAKE aNd PlAne : aLL dEparTed sHud b TreaTed SaMe

 

I was only going to write about the Bus accident at Babiachaur, myagdi on 18^th September  (the same date which evening was devastating) and the plane crash on 25^th. I don’t know what I just wrote.

It is not even a week, that the whole country is trying to foster out of that Earthquake night and six more Nepalese are dead already. I was power napping on my disfigured bed in Bangladesh that earthquake evening. That temblor shook off everything, many people at home lost their sleep, and some lost their families, bunch of innocent lives were at stake. That’s what I wrote that night of earthquake. I made a speculation; Jhala Nath khanal won’t make a headline the following day. with the grace of god he didn’t. Rather the earthquake shook the paper. Yes, I am home now and holding this kantipur piece published on 19^th of September.

Yesterday (25^th September) was not a very pleasing morning either. Didn’t feel like Dashain at all. The clouds were hovering, sun had no trace, it was either raining or foggy through out the country I guess (don’t have the exact weather statistics though). The mountain flight crashed all its way against the toilet of one Hari thapa’s house and killed 19 people on board. They explained the reasons and everything all right, the only thing went wrong was the plane that got crashed.

Ok, Bad weather, flying additional two miles south and being at the wrong elevation on that particular point and a lot of other covert reasons, I suppose. I tweeted something like this : ‘aile sabai dosh mausam lai diney? Mausam kharab vako kura ta udnu vanda agadi tha thiyena? Dashain ko bela ma aako manche bata paisa kamau vanne socheko hola Buddha air le, hadh samma ko business vo, auta private company le garda desh ko tourism lai asar garne vo.’ . Not exactly, a tweet of 140 characters, I guess I had three tweets or more accusing that plane crash catastrophe. Of course, I had deep respect for the pilot and his crew and all the passengers who were aiding to our country’s economy. However, this crossed the height of perfunctory. I mean, this was 22^nd domestic crashes in 19yrs(#reports from myrepublica.com). Something else, has to be the reason besides bad weather and craps? I am no expert, but simply couldn’t ‘OK’ the accusation over the bad weather and start RIPing over the souls that quick. This has to culminate at some point but it will halt only if we stop RIPing that soon and be more skeptical on this frequent crashes.

Now, let me guide you to the two separate Kantipur newspaper published on 19 September (the post earthquake morning) and 26 September. The international sized kantipur newspaper had this coverage over both the nation shaking news. They did it in a splendid fashion. The one on 19^th has the front page almost curtained with the Earthquake affairs and the paper on 26^th did not spare a column for anything else. However, both the days the paper had these two particular ads printed, aligned at the same position and exactly the same size. The real mango drinks celebrating dashain at the right bottom corner and Shalimar paints adjacent to it. How could this be a co-incidence? Both the ads put on at exactly same place and every time the following days to the devastating events.Both kantipur and these companies did a pretty good business over the dead bodies. How come it’s only I who is dissatisfied on this clean and intellect business they did?

I am one malcontent soul myself. I don’t really care what people call me because the more you read down this blog the more you realize they were correct. My blog on earthquake had a report of 13 people being killed on a bus accident at myagdi the same day. I had a prediction made; this will not top the earthquake news either. Moreover, kantipur gave it a little space adjacent to this ‘Shalimar paints’ ad (the left bottom corner portion of the newspaper on #19 sept). The earthquake killed five that night while the bus accident dispatched 13 the same afternoon. How do you calculate the emphasis of news anyways? Thirteen citizens killed gets a narrow column and five killed on a temblor gets the whole page. Thirteen Nepali citizens dispatched on a bus accident at some remote district of Nepal gets hardly any space while the plane crash with six Nepalese near the capital gets all the attention. I don’t want to sound heartless, of course the plane boarded 10 Indians, 2 Americans and a Japanese they should be treated with proper respect. But thirteen passengers, as unlucky as the digit itself were not treated with proper respect. How come, thirteen lives mean nothing to this heartless nation.

Who decides which lives to be more important; the people on board to a mountain flight, the people on bus to nearby ‘Darawang’ or the victims of earthquake? Why there is only a story of the three dead Nepalese residents to US, who were to have dinner with their family that night. Why there is no such story of any dead villagers, published on National dailies? They didn’t have such sophistication to their lives that does not mean they don’t have any stories. Does it? I really appreciate the love of these departed Nepalese to our mountains. I nearly cried when I read the story of this small unsuccessful family get together after the flight. I only pray for their departed soul to rest in peace. However, I would also like to hear stories of those thirteen dead.

RIP : those who lost their lives in a bus accident at an afternoon of 18^th September

1. Mukunda Subedi, principal of Jagannath Primary School,      

2. Rupesh Nepali –bus helper

3. Purna Bahadur Chhantyal

4. Surya Man Chhantyal- a teacher at Dhan Pandey Secondary School

5. Tul Bahadur Pun -- a teacher at Dhan Pandey Secondary School

6  Dipesh Pun

7. Tara Khatri and her six-month son

8. Tika Rasaili and his two-year son Prabhat, 

9. Ashok Bhandari  

10.Tara KC
11. kale damai

i DoN’t likE school: thT’s wHaT i SAiD

‎

'I m 17' I grumbled. He went on 'from where?’ kakarvitta'. He didn’t seem to stop...this guy was already getting on my nerves. 'You didn’t like school’??WTF!! Don’t you have anything else to do, mister? In fact, he didn’t coz he was complaining form the right start. He was strained to our bus. When I first saw him, he had these weird specs on as if old men in our village do. He looked all fragile and had just realized that his bus was abandoning him despite all the money he paid and the ticket he collected at the counter.

He was bawling already, said something that had some moral values. He wasn’t giving in that easy: the fact that he was forced to change the vehicle few hours after his 1^st bus left for Narayangarh and would not get any seats for rest of the journey. He didn’t look very pleased. However, he managed to utter his last words (to the owner of the previous bus) out of intense desperation: 'what you going to do with the money all yoked with the curses from general citizens?’ OMG! How dramatic could a person be? If there is any limit? This should be it.

  

I don’t really adore this kind ‘leaders type’. Now he is all unmasked. He kinda acts like a journalist. What he expected me to say? 'No dear passenger, I always loved my school but my parents were too poor to afford my fondness?’ even if that was the answer to his question, I wouldn’t simply give that answer away. That would satisfy him I knew. I said ‘NO’, I didn’t like school. He went all puzzled and gazed at me. I could see his malcontent face in the dim moon light hovering along while the bus kept moving. He went into a dead silence exactly the thing I wanted to do...'piss him off'… But that nitwit, ignited a flame of thoughts...I had long ago extinguished the fire...didn’t even require a fire extinguisher ,it was easy I boarded the 'Makalu’ bus leaving from kakarvitta to arrive at some place I had never been before...the city on my tales, city I heard more often than my name...city they would say is responsible for all the shits happening around the country...city that would almost freeze me at this season of the year...city that was 2^nd home to a ‘thousand of guys’ like me, whose fate was doomed to this city...Kathmandu...wasn’t very tough to pronounce but gave me a life, I never wished to own..

Kabita had not called me once, like in forever. She sure dint fancy this version of me…And back then, at school she would only stare at me giving me a blushed playful smile. Once I would think, I cud trade anything for her smile...We were already into a profound relationship...and when I was myself made a part of this trade. I dint have much things left to trade with her smile

'Lahan' ‘halt’, 'halt' I was beckoned to this night of bleak moon light flashing against the wind screen...A veteran in age screamed, this guy was sitting just beside the weirdo…The weirdo was repeatedly asking this man, where Lahan wz? So that he cud get enough place to rest his arse appros...weirdo would say...where is your stop sir? Fat ass veteran would reply 'Lahan'. He once got infuriated, when the weirdo asked without any knowledge as to where Lahan was, 'how long before lahan?'

The bus was one man less already. Moreover, the weirdo was happy. He was talking to the driver...talking about country and craps. Our ‘gurji’ likes anything that has politics in it, to which this weirdo was no exception...What did he think of himself. A 'guru' of real kind, offering blessings? What’s gotten into this weirdo’s head? Is he always like this? Gabby? I thought for a while...may be that was not turning out quite an ideal night for him. I saw him holding a red book and this one time, he even asked me to switch on the lights. My answer was no! May be he had plans as to read that red book and be placed at the exact place, he choose to sit after paying the amount. I cud hear him say he had traveled all the way from Bangladesh for last 30 hrs and now he ended up on a bus that had no place for him to rest and foster out of that fatigue. Such were his complains. In addition, some old people (who were forced too) they were complaining on how much their back hurt at last seats. What’s wrong with people complaining all the time. Who did I complain about my situation? No one...

I gave this weirdo a couple of thoughts...This person is wearing good clothes...says he studies abroad. Then why on earth he didn’t pay for a plane flight? He sure was richer than I was. May be not rich enough for plane fares. Thoughts kept appearing. But not long enough to stop me from rewinding the tape of my life...a story that wz once filled with joy and only joy...a story I kept to myself…a story that had a beautiful girl as a soul mate...and now that story is a history...a tale that will never be told...a soul mate who will never recall an episode from her remote recollection …that’s my story never told, never will be heard...

Life passes by ...moving on is only choice that gives less heartache at the moment. Who knows someday, if I will turn out as successful as Bhuwan…I don’t know this guy in person... but he must have had the same doomed fate as mine ...life gave him lemon too…But I heard at this pit stop near ‘Hetauda’ a guy I know from this gas station, who is over 50, yet unmarried talking about Bhuwan... A ‘didi’ from nearby tea stall said, he had network problem...I don’t know what that meant exactly...however he was the one telling tales about Bhuwan to the whole public: 'Bhuwan le ta purai dada nai kindecha naubise ko, aile cement factory lai dhunga supply dine raicha, shuyanmbhu ma ghar thadako cha re, Chittlange sau thena rajaswo ma kam garne??tesko jethi chori udayecha..asti varkhar khalasi garthyo, garyo kto le..(Answered some queries  and continued)..srimati,mobile gadi ta autau hun..srimati lai dhad dhukyo yeta dhukyo vandai aushodi garnu parne, gadi banaunai parne,mobile ma paisa hali rakhnu parne…to this statement, the didi smiled and replied ,'budo afno budi chaina kere, netwrk ma prob vayesi yestai ho' ...the portions after Bhuwan were not serene to my ears. Nevertheless, this weirdo was listening to him and laughing in all the joy of the universe...I didn’t know what this weirdo was up to. I kept on thinking about Bhuwan...a role model to me, to whom life gave a lemon and he sure made lemonade out of it...

sEPt 18: soMEthINg uNder The PlaTE hiT uS

                               

Sept 18, it wasn’t a 'Friday' on the Gregorian calendar and Nepal was inebriated somewhere on the events that were to make headlines the following day. CPN-UML president was grumbling over the Maoist’s irksome allegation: "The two biggest oppositions are not willing to haul the stalled peace process to some logical end." It's only our leaders; whose generosity still eyes at the logic anymore for rest of Nepal it's only a tool to mount political gain. But our PM Dr. Bhattarai must have been busy packing his stuffs and memorizing antique words of Marx for he was to catch the flight to the US at midnight the same date. However Jhallu was hopeful to seize the newspaper's headlines the following day.

And it was just the day to the most glamorous fashion event's conclusion: 'Fashion Parade'. The colorful and stylish lives were working out on the hangover from the other night's 'After Party'. While a woman was reported dead of an illegal abortion at a hospital in Itahari, eastern Nepal the same date, Sept 18, it is!

The episode of 'Dead Rhinos' continues yet again to menace the officials. The second to be reported dead in past few weeks, leaving behind 503 numbers of its species at the Chitwan National Park. A jeep accident in Myagdi hits death toll to 11 a few weeks before the biggest festival to knock at every household. 'A catastrophe inevitable' they say but who cares about the narrow hilly tracks. It’s inevitable only for our road authorities aids to its certainty.

These above incidents would make pretty colorful newspapers the following day but Kathmandu and all other places back home were hit by 6.8 on Richter scale temblor. The chaos unfolded, people were scattered, and CA members evacuated the hall. Ktm was witnessing a rock and roll for over two minutes with involuntary head bangs. The "impotent" British embassy's wall also supposed to be an important structure snatched away few lives including a father and a daughter. Few other lives at Eastern part of the country were not spared either. A lot of injured lives are at stake and scores more hidden behind the hills hola. Our state by now, must have befriended this idea that Kathmandu is in jeopardy.

The highly dense, with an over population of over a million, the heart of the country embraced by Himalayas, the only place beholding ; sophisticated apartments, luxurious hotels, high rise malls, KFC, Pizza Hut, King's way, hundreds and thousands of educational institutions, corporate houses, party and fashion loving young generations, the insane dream of a regular guy to get settled once in for all just to change his permanent address to Kathmandu, the city lost into the absolute madness of god knows what , was finally brought into senses after a long time. 

This is an alarm with no snooze button. It’s a wakeup call. Let’s disclose this long forgotten issue of actual decentralization and put it up on the "things to do" list the very first thing. Authorities might be pondering on blaming the British Embassy for the loss and expecting a couple of mass agitations. May be corrupted British Embassy's personals are to be blamed for the 'impotent wall' and our authority could get easily away with this accusation. But i am talking here about the graveness of the situation. A tweet by @lemboo read 'it is 6.8 and we pull funny one liner and anecdotes. If it is 8.6 we would be RIP-ing over the departed souls and cursing over the devastation.' So next time the temblor hits the country there will be no one to blame for detriments. I hope 'JHALLU' did not make another headline the following day.

P.S: a sincere heartfelt condolence to the bereaved family. RIP all the departed souls.

kANcHAA taLKiNg tO yOU : paRT 2

Its 3 Years passed since my mother walked out on that puffy evening. Now, i can count on my own. They apparently publish books on time. However, i only got those books few days before exams. No wonder, i failed my 2nd grade that year. I got new sets of younger friends instead; some of them even call me 'Dai’.  I seem to be caring less on, what they call me. But they are born with the same curiosity as to why i am only called 'kancha '. I get along with this guy though, Rishi. He is a son of a poor farmer. He is too filmy in his nature and seems to follow Bollywood pretty much. He catches up well with the movies news too. He once told me Hrithik Roshan Has 6 fingers and i in total disbelief was like what????? He told me the names of few Bollywood stars in our gate go chats. Shahrukh Khan, Salmaan Khan , Saif Ali Khan , Aamir Khan and all the khans in the industry. That’s why for few weeks i thought; to become a film star, you must have ‘khan’ hitched to your name. When i was all alone and a little free, i would call myself ' ‘Kancha Khan'. Until this day, i asked him out of my intense curiosity :'Then why dont Hrithik Roshan has a khan to his name??' to which he just smiled. Later when we had a lot of film conversations i got answer to that witless question. And i never called myslef 'Kancha Khan' again.

Few days back; Rishi came to me thrilled and said;" Salman Khan's new movie is a hit, Bodyguard". He seemed a lot happy for some reason which i couldn’t reckon why? I kept that curiosity to myself for i didn’t want to spoil my friend's excitement. However it’s only Rishi who could tell why. On my way back home that day, i was pushing myself real hard because it was already late for chores. When i saw couple of guys, well dressed who sometimes talked with this alien language. They would often say 'Oh My God' with pauses literally after each word. But we only said 'OMAGO' back at school, that too rishi taught all the class. He must have heard that from some movies he watches so often.

They started discussion something about 'Body guard' the movie Rishi was really excited about. That's when i got all my ears into their conversation. They said: Bodyguard movie is a total crap, how could Nepalese spend around 2.5 crores for that shit piece... (Alien language for a while and)...Nepalese would even buy Salman's poop had that been supplied to our country in packets but that only flows down the drain to Ganges in India,we should stop watching this bullshits they throw at us every now and then, we must realise the Indian's are looting us and blah blah..(Alien language)....blah blah. They were already getting on my nerves for they were talking nasty about the movie my friend was so much intoxicated to. I absolutely didn’t care the parts of the conversation involving how much money we had lost against this film. Rather i was thinking, if i had any i would lend it to Rishi so that he could watch this movie. However i didn’t.

I was done with the evening chores for that day and i was wondering to myself in all the tranquility of the universe. I was forming opinions over as to how i am going to present the story of the guys being biased over Rishi's favorite movie. I was pondering couple of thoughts to how my mother was dealing with her illness too, that was for a while though. However i was more focused over the fact how Rishi is going to respond to this allegation the boys were making. That's when i Pivoted my head around to see a 100rs note flattened over the gorgeous tea table, that they received in a dowry of their eldest son's marriage. There were a lot of furniture and electronics but they seem to have utmost fond to this one though. I had never craven anything comparable to that 100rs note before in my life. An evil part of my head said to filch that one and go on a movie show the following day with Rishi, bunking the classes. But couldn’t hear to my mettle inside and fairy part of my brain fairly won the tussle.

I was beckoned to the real world when i heard him, the head of my new family exclaiming over the news reporting about the noble deeds of our Newly elected Prime Minister. He enunciated something that included 'Mustang max', 'only 4 lakhs cash vaulted in all these years', 'He sure is our new hope' and ' He will take peace process to a conclusion'. I was there listening to him words per words with no such expressions that could give him any hint to i was listening. I knew this prime minister is from the rebel party who used to fight with the army. I have myself witnessed the agony of that war to some extent. I can vividly remember that frantic day of June 6, 2005 when a road side bomb detonated by the former rebels killed 38 people including lot of women and children in Madi, Chitwan. That’s is where i am from. And the very next day i was rendered to this new family.

Lights were out already and that night all i thought was about bodyguard, Rishi, offensive remarks from those guys, 100 rs lying on the table, our new prime minister and those mercilessly killed people and their bereaved family. i wished our new PM was a genie who could fulfill my tiny wishes and straight out things like providing relief to those deeply moved family of that inhuman act ensuring no more war. I wished he could live up to the expectations of my head of the family. And i wished if he would provide us any tickets to this new movie 'Bodyguard' the next day.

kANcHAA taLKiNg tO yOU : paRT 1

'Kancha, how r u doing?' it was late twilight already, when i heard a faint sound calling my name. I remember my friends asking at school, how come your name is only 'Kancha'? Because our class had a lot of similar names that sounded complete such as Ranjan Poudel or Shyam Karki or Ritesh Shrestha and so on. No one really bothered to send me to that primary school with a complete name for i was not living a complete life. I cocked up my head to see if that is someone i knew for that call had some tender touch in it. Something i haven’t heard in years. The voice approached near me and was my mother's.  She didn’t look all fit and wasn’t smiling either. She has not smiled at me like in forever. I could hardly interpret the reason, WHY?

This is the second visit my mother has made in all these years. i was in a dilemma of expressions. I couldn't figure out what i was supposed to do that instant, except i knew i had to be done with the dishes pretty quick and get back to the kitchen. I thought, did she really pop in at the wrong time? I absolutely couldn’t retrieve the timing of her last visit but i was sure as rock, that wasn’t the right time for a tiny family get together. I said something like: i was fine and asked how she was doing herself, that answer i never got. And the next thing i remember, i got back to my chore. I was doing dishes like every other day since a person whom i said uncle left me here few years back. And never saw him yet again.

i couldn’t exactly remember how many years for the course book were not in town yet. That year, we were supposed to learn counting and year before that i was only admitted to that primary school. I can remember my teachers whispering to their ears about the reason why? and they said stuffs like; the government has just changed and followed by blah....blah....The teacher also said,"hernus Kandel sir, aba ko 5 din viral kitbag naaye ma ta dashain bida ko 15 din agadi nai taap kaschu ghar tira. Bazar kati charko ho sir! feri sirmati le Bombay sari vanera hairan cha..". They both laughed for a while and started their bosh. I plugged out my ear then but the conversation might have gone something like govenment...hahhahaha.....government..price hike...salary....corruption...hahaha...government.

She went in, my mother greeted 'Namaskaar' to my new family. Don’t panic, it's not the regular family like you r visualizing at the moment. Long back i have switched to a new definition of family. Now, defination of the family goes like 'A social institution, where i get to sleep over the mattress on the kitchen floor. Eat whatever prone without any complains but sometimes with a fake smile though. And my birth- mother visiting me barely, god knows when to sponge off my new family. ‘I remember she said something like: she wanted few cash and that she was ill. I could reckon from her voice that she was real ill but i was stuck with a dilemma already. This scene where my mother is ill,could not desire any emotions from me for i was already running short of emotions.

A bleak ‘NO’, i heard from inside the room that wasn't my mother’s. May be she had asked to take me home this 'Dashain'. Is she out of her mind? Does she know a trifle about my family here? How many people visit us during this festival of joy? And how profoundly happy they look over the lovely dress they wear? How many varieties of dishes are prepared which is served over multiple utensils? How busy i am with the rotation of plates? I mean they rely upon me, my new family. I am the one, responsible for checking the flow of dingy plates out and cleaned one in of the kitchen.

Anyways, what i was going to do even if they allowed me to go? Which they won’t because they like me here, they need me the most like the politicians adore mobsters during the elections. And frankly, i am happy they do, at least they don't give me to unknown places. I don't have to advance to new techniques of survival. I don’t have to adjust with my routine anymore. I must tell you this; it wasn’t an easy task, to wake up at early 4 am when i first got here. I felt like going back to sleep again , which i did couple of times and i hear this 'Kanchaaaaaaaa' a real loud 'kancha' that would shake me literally.

Who likes to go back to village anyways? I don't think the tiny faces i remember from my remotest memory are still catching up with the village life. Who likes to sleep till the scorching sun hits your face? Who likes to poop on the open corn field these days? Who likes to swim and flow with the river for unlimited hours anymore? So i hint, they must have long left or been conferred to places like i am. My mother said nothing before she left. I was almost done with the utensils then. However, i followed her skinny image from behind until it disappeared into the puffy dusk of Aswin Month. And now when i observe the time during Dashain, it is way too hotter out of my wildest imagination.

faKE wORms tHaT sHattERed mY dREaMs

Its dawn already, I am not surprised.  It’s been like this ever since I got here but I have succeeded to go to sleep at 3 these days. However the chicken chilly I made the other night turned out to be more of a ‘chilly chicken’. May be its all my friends cursing me back for that evil act of mine and no wonder I ain’t getting any sleep.

‘Not having a proper sleep routine gives you ugly dark circles and the thin appearance’ they say. I don’t really care dark circles or the thin guy look but it seems that I am going to have some problems with my digestion process. I mean, ‘you eat a lot’ I always hear this from the people who have fathomed me. That I have always adored as some sort of compliment. For a thin guy like me, it’s always good to learn that you are eating a whale of food. However it’s always been one tough job for me to put on some weight. People wonder where the stuffs I eat get lost. I too ponder a couple of thoughts. But I have been living all my life on few explanations to the fact that I am thin.

Rewind a decade or more, there was a visit by this surveillance team at my school to testify the tapeworm defiled students. On an assembly of hundreds of student they called out my name; I was a tapeworm holder. I didn’t know what a tapeworm was or how it could possibly harm me. Rather I was happy my name was called and not my friend’s. When I was reported the same at home, they said something like ‘oh! That’s the reason our boy is so thin’.

I am not doubtless, whether my family was worried of tapeworm devouring my food or they were worried about my physique or both. However the day before my eldest brother and I hit the road to Kathmandu planning to take the worm down, I won gold in a relay race. That explains I was not weak or ill or infirm but my physique was a matter. And I was going to Kathmandu for the first time. So my excitement was on the air.

I can comprehend that, I was the crux: the center of attraction. Hey! Look at him! Don’t you get enough to eat at home? Hey! Do they keep you outside the kitchen while rest of the family enjoys the food? It seems as if his elder brother is eating his entire share of foods followed by hahhahahha!!!! All these insensitive remarks by the people I knew very less, sometimes my close relatives or friends to my brothers or sisters must not have been very hilarious to the people who really cared and loved me for thin and thick(except I could never get thick).

So that must have come as a great relief to my family ‘The Report’ for I was the only evergreen thin guy in my family. Finally they have stumbled over the reason and that is ‘I was holding some tapeworms’. Now the doctor would wipe my domesticated worms and make them homeless literally. And I could gain some pounds so that my eldest brother won’t have to mull on what people say about eating my share of foods were any true. Oh! I remember this one thing I said to my bench mate (he was thin too except he now boozes over Australian beer and gained pretty weight) ‘ pakh ! ma Kathmandu gayera juka flaera aauchu ani motayera you classs ko dada hunchu tespachi you shirey(shree bahadur gurung) , vagwaney(vagwan karki) lai pitnu parcha.’ He replied with an elated smile; he was buying everything word to word, I could tell that from his liberated smile. Even I was buying it from my family. I was already living a life of a thick school boy whom all the class feared.

Nonetheless, the dreams got shattered into pieces when we discovered at the teaching hospital Maharajgunj that the report was fake and the whole surveillance team was a bunch of thugs. The final reports were negative and I never had worms. I wasn’t a happy man; I wished I had bladder full of nasty and nutrition sucking worms. I had already pledged to my friend, by now he must have already threatened a guy or two hoping that his thin friend would return thick with arms of a wrestler.

That was a story back from 4^th grade. And fast forward a decade and few years I am still a thin guy with plenty of other explanations as to why I am thin. I say stuffs like, Maybe I talk too much for a thick guy. Maybe I don’t sleep at regular hours. Maybe I think too much for my age. Maybe I don’t drink no alcohol. May be I don’t go to the gym. May be I will put on some pounds once I get to the city of my dreams (New York). I mean I have never in my life seen a single person whose weight when measured after few years stay in America reduced to that of when he first left.

But I only say these things to keep people off me for I don’t want to sound rude. I can’t say ‘budge off you faggot mind your own fucking business’. That’s rude I think. What’s with the people complaining about other’s physique anyway? Thin or thick ugly or fair; I am not chasing your girl! You moron or I am not some gay hitting on your boyfriend! You dunderhead female.

Now this might sound like a piece out of utter frustration of being thin. I don’t care if I am a thin guy or thick as long as that changes my perception over things.

ThE bLaCk diArY

                                                

It has thick black cover, the diary they gave me. The very first blank page next to the India’s (political) map reads “यस सृजना उच्च मा वि को २०६५ सालको कक्षा १२ को परिक्षामा दोस्रो स्थान हसिल गर्ने राघव गौतमलाई  यो पुरस्कार प्रदान गरिएको छ |” Honestly these words never encouraged me to load this blank pages with my thoughts and words. Neither the first glimpse of this diary could convince me this thing that people say “Prizes are Prizes after all”. May be I expected something a little fancy, a little flashy stuff and not this dark black covered diary. That wouldn’t be me being unfair to the school authority had i been a little anxious over expectation while waiting for what the prize will turn out to be. I mean I was diligent, I worked my ass off. But I wasn’t sure what I was really expecting for I didn’t know what else could be the options. I am still not certain what I would have chosen, had I been the authorized person to do so. May be some expensive chocolates too, but those sweets wouldn’t have made it this far and this black domed diary crossed few oceans along with its gainer.

It isn’t in its old shape anymore. It is no longer yoked to the cover. But when its fold, no one can exactly tell that the cover and the body are not glued together.

Like I told you, I never thought I would ever scratch an ink over it. And I never drifted away from my vow that ‘ I won’t jot a word down’ until it was one evening of 17^th march 2009. I finally surrendered to its might. Not only my promise has set a new dimension, my whole life was on a different trajectory. I only realized it soon as I got out of the cab opposite to this grand bus station ‘Green line ‘and actually saw some different people for the first time. That different people driving sophisticated buses would now drive me to the place I was destined to spend precious 4 years of life. By different people I mean absolutely different, they didn’t look much incomparable but they sounded aloof. The language I have never heard before would be now the language of my communication. For the first time in my life I realized, it is the language that connects people (not hutch or Nokia). It is the language that embraces people in a Nation. It is the language I didn’t know I loved so much that I can’t use no more in here. And that moment I sensed a slight melancholy that could no longer persist for I had been longing to speak in English ever since I decided I would glide down to Bangladesh.

Now If any of my teachers or friends back from school read this, this will only sound hilarious to them. ‘Not speaking in English’ was a crime back then at school that I and my friends always committed. Duress by school that we never cared nor feared.  And now that has changed into a desire. However to my dismay I could hardly find any people who could talk to me in English at that sophisticated bus stand, not because I had any marvelous accent but I had actually knocked the wrong door. Soon I figured out that my dream of speaking in English like they show in the movies was deserted. What was I even thinking before I decided to come here?? And I finally settled to make my first entry to this journal.

The very first entry read something like : the wonderful people I met, how a guy was combed to this tere-naam hair style, how monstrous the building seemed to me.  How much I was taken aback when I was first served grainy ‘dhaniya’ with a bill in one restaurant (sometimes I anticipate the same in Nepali restaurant these days). How much I missed pretty girls for it had been already past few hours i haven’t seen a single girl. Another sentence read, how content I was to help this old man I met on the bus the other day who told his sad story of being pickpocketed. This first entry read this childish and hilarious yet the most romantic sentence I could ever write. Something like “every time my heart pumps it reminds me of you”. I can’t stop this shy smile that appears on my face every time I read this line solely. It also articulated how much I missed my whole family, my father and my younger brother the most that evening. And finally I wrapped up that first day entry devoured with the reminiscence of my friends.

I am not sure, whether people share their things in their diary or not. However every time I consider of posting something on my blog. I hunt my diary down( for I never know where it is; no wonder it is in a bad shape now)and set about writing. Start writing! Just like that?? I mean what do I even write, what am I even writing and why do I even write in the first place. So if I really want to think something before I write any piece, I will have to come up with all these answers in the premier. Hence I have an only answer that is : “ yes! I embark writing just like that and leave it to you”. Like they say in the movies ‘Tension  लेनेका  नही  देनेका’.

What about the diary?? It is almost filled in and for past few years I have been writing. I started it like a regular diary, thought I would make entry of each day in Bangladesh since that first evening. However It was a long row to hoe; instead I started writing philosophies, my dreams, my failures, again regular entries, nation’s issues and sometimes nothing (like today). And this notebook, which I thought would turn out into something like balance sheet(to keep track of my expenses so that I won’t turn out luxurious someday, which I am lucky I didn’t) turned me into a pen-man and kept me arouse at this hour of the morning.

(It’s already 5:30 in the morning when I enclosed this last bracket)