'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 1st 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 2nd 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
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