NepalHUB

It was somewhere at 28 degree in thermometer, about 95% humidity. I used to tie my “millennium” wrist watch on right hand, 1:30 pm, and a sunny day. I decided not to ride the horse and enjoy walking. I was given a green, fresh bamboo stick to help riding 30 degree sloped horse track. I had black slipper on, tagged “Adda” with two- 2” wide black belts crossing each other in an acute angle. They were way comfortable and better than A&F made of crocodile skin ones. I was in a deep thought, Rama must be crying after her mother’s funeral. She, by her gender, is not allowed to go to the funeral and set the pyre up. Did her family have enough help for the cremation? Did she eat anything before she was informed this morning? She has brothers in her family to light the pyre and all those rituals after that or not? It took me hours to create an environment to make Rama up yesterday, but just a microsecond to leave 1000nds of my dreams completely away. Guys, humanity always plays a vital role to interfere person’s patience, it sways your dignity, always put you in a moral dilemma. I was stepping up the hill counting paces without the pedometer on; never cared how long it takes to fall the same way back if my feet slip. I know for sure they never equal in count.

“ey ey ey Bismane, tyo tinkhutte (tripod of theodolite) jharna lagyo, kasto huttiyera hineko kyare chhodeko daai diga jasto”; he seems like the younger’s buddy, shouted while rushing towards the leading young bhariya. His sharp voice woke me up, I didn’t worry about the tripod that was about to fall behind Bismane’s doko. I asked quickly, “Timro naam kasto ramro, Bismane, kolle rakhidiyeko?” the cranky head broke his long constipation “yo boksi ko budo le maile dherai dhido khako dekhi sakdaina k re, maile hapta ma 20 maana dhido khanchhu bhanera yelle mero naam Bismane rakhidiyo k saar”. “tyahi Khotti po boksi thiyo k re, talai janmayo” replied the older. Now I came to know he is the young bhariya’s father, a polygamist, and the son was calling boksi to his step mother. I could still see the love between them even after exchanging some bitterness. His father gives his bidi “a raw cigarette” after puffing half long every time. The son supports doko when his father takes a pee. They have such a different way of loving that is hard for some people to understand. I opened my final Bislery water bottle , poured half in mouth, wet my head, face, and threw back to the doko.

After 2 hours straight walk I saw sets of 10-15 houses both side of a valley. Chiseled stone and adobe exterior, slate roof, some of them are painted red from outside. “kun gau ho tyo bismane?” I broke my curiosity. “Bihu bhanchha k re yo tham lai, tyahi ko hotel ma khana khane ho k re aaja saar”. Bihu??? It reminded me Rama again, she left her house after marrying a guy from Bihu. I was very anxious, suddenly 100s of questions about the place queued in my brain. I will ask about Rama, her whereabouts and so many stuffs with the people there. My steps were moving faster, the name of the village worked me out in a same way that used to after eating a full pack of glucovita in soccer game half time back in pulchowk campus. We passed the valley crossing a steel suspended bridge and climbed a steep slope for 20 minutes before we reached “so called” hotel.

“Sauni, ek lota paani deu na k re..morchhu pani hola arko saal samma ta hariyo baas” old gale sits in a flat limestone piece, half buried on ground, strong enough to support his skeleton. The son reaches nearby his father to get his half long Bidi. There were 2 chairs and a bench set outside facing nowhere. One of the chairs has 3 and half legs, swaying towards the bench. Half of the bench was still covered by some healthy looking flies; some from other half respected me leaving space before I reached the bench. Probably those are the identities that differentiate a normal house from a hotel in that village. I looked at all people carefully; nobody looks healthier than those flies. I could see the kitchen, even what is cooking there from outside, behind a doorway about 6 feet wide. The “chulo” was made of three little cow-dung peaks with a hole on the top and other one at front. There was a little boy sitting on the wet mud floor nearby his mother, I could hardly see his nose and mouth covered by flies. I remembered my spare “Jacky” underwear when I saw his penis facing out to feed flies from a big hole on his half pant. I should have brought couple spares for him rather than trashing. I checked my cigarette pack, there was a final one left, I was out of matches. “Sahuni, do you have a lighter?” in no time sahuni stands in front of me holding a half burnt wood in her hand. I moved my face towards the wood carefully, I couldn’t save my eyebrow though. There were nobody beside sahuni and the little baby boy in that house. There was an elliptical pot on the left side of the chulo, a frying pan on the top that sahuni was continuously digging with a spoon. On the west wall a small old fashioned “madal” was hanging. There was a theki (dahi banaune bhado) in one of the front corners all covered with flies. There were couple “tama ko lota” and silver Gagri (Pani rakhne bhado) on the right front corner behind the door leaf.

“Sahuni, noon lyau na ta k re alikati, euta hariyo khursani pani deu kyare” Bhime, the old bhariya pulled out a long strip of potato skin out of his mouth, sets on ground nearby his plate and read his personal menu. Bismane got half of the green pepper and couple salt pebbles out of his father’s part. I could clearly hear them chewing those pebbles in their mouth. I decided not to eat anything there. I had couple packets of Yum Yum noodles, my favorite, in luggage, so I requested a bowl full of hot water with sahuni to rinse them up. “terimma marna nasakeko khuitey, yatro budo bhai sakyo ajhai kattu ma hagchha kyare, yata aaija” A man on a filthy black coat, light yello suruwal stepped inside and took the little boy out quickly. It distracted me from my favorite yum yum soup badly so I hardly swallow whatever I had in my mouth and left the bowl alone. A nepali topi hanging on his back head, he must be the master of the household. “Company bata chhutti ma farkeko ho ki k ho ni kyare?” he raised a question twisting his left arm without any introduction. “ haina, ma galkot jadai ho kaam ko silsilama” I answered humbly. He pulled a chair, the 3 and half legged one, pulled out the bidi kept in his ear nook, took a long puff ignoring me completely. “Oi saili chiya bana ta k re, ali kada rang halesh” commands his fourth wife “saili” in a hard voice. He calls her saili since he is hoping two more marriages, and left the positions kaili and kanchhi open for future wives. He was not interested at all to talk to us, so I stay calm leaving my hope of asking about rama behind. “La hai bhim dai, bismane, ma jadai garchhu bistarai, timi haru aaudai gara” I left the hotel after paying 100 rupees to the sahuni and started counting my paces again towards Galkot.

A man can be as fragile as the cliff; his vision can also be rendered in a same way as those valleys and rivers that are hard to follow. He tries to walk in a ridge without knowing the challenges and ends up wounded. Today I also became one of those preys of ridges. I am very emotional by nature, I can be careless for anything but quietness kills me. I was walking alone like a person living his life shortly after divorce. I picked a piece of stone and hit hard with the bamboo stick, again picked another one and hit harder than before. I was repeating the same action again and again, those stone pieces were vanishing somewhere far in bushes. Once I went nearby a bush, thinking that the one I just hit must be within there, when I moved the bush by both hands I saw innumerable pieces of stones there. I was scared, confused, suddenly I ran back to the horse track. This time my steps were faster than before, I was not playing cricket anymore. I was just thinking about what just happened to me. I was so sure that there must be only one stone piece that I hit with the bamboo stick while going to the bush, but how come I saw hundreds of thousands there? Why did I so scare when I knew those stones were not going to chew me up? I started scaring with each of the stone piece on the way. I was trying to put my steps where there were no stones, moving faster like I was running away from them. There were stones everywhere, how could I get rid of them. I suddenly walked out of the track and sat on grass about 5 feet down the road. I was sweating, scared, confused and totally lost. I closed my eyes for about 5 minutes and tried to calm down. Mom! Is what I said first when I closed eyes. I missed my Mom like anything at that moment. Once she said, son, don’t run away from problems, fight with them, retackle if you can’t solve in one shot, but if you see “the problem” is breeding 100s of other then leave it where it is or you will be buried under them. A mom can never be wrong to her child; she knows her child should never slow down the race of his/her life on some distraction. Guys, we all hit so many pebbles while moving in a path, who knows which one was sharp enough that left your feet bleeded. We all need to look forward to banding the wound and get well for another tackle, not back to figure the stone out. Sorry mom, I was little distracted on my way!

To be continued.

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Experience is the best teacher, it could be of high price sometimes!

"people claim that women are made to be the ones to get hurt very quick"

Its not people, its women themselves who think they get hurt very quick...

"sometimes its hard for people to understand the love; and sometimes they are just too ignorant!"

I don't know if its true or not but feel good when I read this line anytime.

__________________
Experience is the best teacher, it could be of high price sometimes!

very well written paragraph

A man can be as fragile as the cliff; his vision can also be rendered in a same way as those valleys and rivers that are hard to follow. He tries to walk in a ridge without knowing the challenges and ends up wounded. Today I also became one of those preys of ridges. I am very emotional by nature, I can be careless for anything but quietness kills me. I was walking alone like a person living his life shortly after divorce. I picked a piece of stone and hit hard with the bamboo stick, again picked another one and hit harder than before. I was repeating the same action again and again, those stone pieces were vanishing somewhere far in bushes. Once I went nearby a bush, thinking that the one I just hit must be within there, when I moved the bush by both hands I saw innumerable pieces of stones there. I was scared, confused, suddenly I ran back to the horse track. This time my steps were faster than before, I was not playing cricket anymore. I was just thinking about what just happened to me. I was so sure that there must be only one stone piece that I hit with the bamboo stick while going to the bush, but how come I saw hundreds of thousands there? Why did I so scare when I knew those stones were not going to chew me up? I started scaring with each of the stone piece on the way. I was trying to put my steps where there were no stones, moving faster like I was running away from them. There were stones everywhere, how could I get rid of them. I suddenly walked out of the track and sat on grass about 5 feet down the road. I was sweating, scared, confused and totally lost. I closed my eyes for about 5 minutes and tried to calm down. Mom! Is what I said first when I closed eyes. I missed my Mom like anything at that moment. Once she said, son, don’t run away from problems, fight with them, retackle if you can’t solve in one shot, but if you see “the problem” is breeding 100s of other then leave it where it is or you will be buried under them. A mom can never be wrong to her child; she knows her child should never slow down the race of his/her life on some distraction. Guys, we all hit so many pebbles while moving in a path, who knows which one was sharp enough that left your feet bleeded. We all need to look forward to banding the wound and get well for another tackle, not back to figure the stone out. Sorry mom, I was little distracted on my way!

I must say an artistic way of defining things.... I loved the way you have captured the local peoples with fine details.... and how you have given an astract dimensions..... keep it up

thanks Clicker...

“Sauni, ek lota paani deu na k re..morchhu pani hola arko saal samma ta hariyo baas” ..typical....

Very very interesting..u should have started a long time ago...

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It's your attitude that matters,not your name

sounds like you are very familiar to this kind of accent, I love them man.