Haha
Hahaha
This title is pretty misleading
And thanks to thinking about you
… I’ve already (almost) forgotten about it all
Tomorrow’s a new day
Don’t worry you say
Soothingly
….
Day 3, here I come
Can’t wait to see what’s in store for me there

that’s all right, that’s okay
there’s nothing left for you to fear
when the end, as we know it
is so very near
did you fulfill all you set out to do?
ten years, ten years
that’s all you circled
only to forget about the rest of your life
that’s left now for your soul to be bottled

are you really leaving she said
look at the dust and see if you can fathom
no one can catch it to claim it to display it and be saddened
i said
free as a free man can be
to get rid of me is to get rid of the sea
how will you tell, how will you reach
please don’t expect nature to merely blackmail you and breach

do not flee, do not give in
they will lay it down and
speak from within
one break, one time, one day
is all you plead
let the end then come
and make it bleed

no more goodbyes, no more lonely eyes
you just do your part to help stop the cries
look at what they say what He created
don’t you just love it?
after all
going home is never belated

But.

I nearly cried last weekend. Despite the eye-doctor over at Teelganga treating me with this gem:

तपाईँको आँखामा त आँशु नै छैन!

Ha! I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the info (other than to follow the good doc’s advice and get the artificial tears to drop into my dried eyes every so often”) but the first thought that had hit me was this:

If I cry, then what? Will it be like maasu without masala, bicycle without a seat, phone without a charge, laugh without a stomach (??) … I mean – yes – what?

Anyways, the good editor at WAVE called me up last month and told me that my cheque was ready and that I could come and pick it up. Yes for writing .. they wanted to pay me (here’s where I’d have cried – like हर्षका आँशु)? Again .. so they wanted to pay me for writing – soonk soonk.

I get paid to do something else by someone else. What I do is challenging, can be fun, and is turning me into a seasoned jaagirey every passing day. When I get my paycheck every month, it’s a gentle reminder of how I should save up (you know, for old age and harsher times) among other things. It’s funny how that thought never ceases to go away .. along with this one – that I think I will go stone broke one day.

I was hoping to call the good editor on one of those rougher days. No, really. But as it came to pass, we made plans to meet last weekend (at Sarah Kay – Jatra). It so happened that I ran late by an hour and that place was packed like Madhya Upatyaka Yatayat at 9:00 am in Gaushala. I wasn’t let in. How awesome is that (actually I was also a tad, just a tiny tad disappointed that I couldn’t get in – but yes, my fault, I was the one who was late)? A venue in KTM packed to the hilt by way of a poetry recitation. No कमी of कवीs and कवियत्रिs in Kathmandu.

So then I did the better thing – live music at Reggae and browsing books over at Pilgrims after which I met the good people of WAVE. And that’s when I GOT PAID! WOOOOOO HOOOOO! (Ok here’s the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSbBvKaM6sk) Got paid for writing about prostitution, dance bar dancers, women getting gyrated in a packed-like-gundruk-in-a-horlicks-bottle bus (self-plagiarizing there), my dear maid not making it in her entrepreneurial stint, my cousin, etc. TOODOONG TOODOONG TOONG … CHYAS!

Counting hattis lick-of-a-finger by lick-of-a-finger, I was crying inside (हर्षै हर्ष).

you know
last time i went to phewa lake
the grass was green
the sky Molten Blue
(ED was no romantic fiction writer, was she?)
and there were a couple of bonuses
yes the lake
and the mountains
what say what say?

A voice of alternative reason, I every so often go to her to ask what her thoughts are in matters spanning most spheres of ambiguity. She has a voice of assurance. Of hope but also of criticism and sometimes, well, flat-out opposition: she will vehemently reject without second thoughts some of my thoughts if she sees even a चम्चा of the ludicrous on them. She has seen me grow up to be the man I am today from a kid years and years ago. She tells me how I’ve changed (and how she doesn’t like that one bit – I’ve apparently changed to be this 9 to 6 jaagirey chasing a dull career) during the course of these times that have passed us by. I used to be a daydreamer and now I’m not anymore she says; I have a feeling deep inside she still believes I’m just the same awkward boy with a shockingly bizarre nose who wanted to grow up to be in a band – only, I stutter a hell of a lot less these days.

She’s still the same and I know will remain so for the rest of time. I know I will change for I cannot stay the same; my thoughts will change with the times; with her, it’s almost the opposite; she’ll make the times change with her thoughts: well, not true of course but at least people who have changed owing to the authority of time may be forced to unchange some of their changed ways; I should know for I have, I think .. or maybe not – see?

I wonder where we’ll be 15 years from now (except for the fact that we’ll most certainly be a boring bag of bones … and probably crazier). How I’ll have changed in her eyes. How she’ll have grown wiser and if she’ll ever see the kid in me again. I told her I’d miss her. I also told her that she’d be the one leaving but between the two of us, I’d be making this about me! Sometimes relationships that matter bring out the worst in us. Relationships that end up being something so precious that you had no idea it’d be so when you chanced upon the other during that year of The Carefree. By chance, by chance.

Only a few out there I’ve known to be like her: straight-up honest, always being who she is .. no pretenses; Oh no! Another year, another near (‘dear’ here I thought would be apt for rhyme’s sake but the cheesiness just outweighed my fancy for poetry – ya, like this post isn’t already?) one leaving. People will leave and they will go off and about their lives – need to relearn to take that phenomenon for granted as well, again. Dammitt!

Yes JD, I will miss you (Read it, and read it again).

yes it’s been a shameful sometime
that i have been outernetted
and i have at the house
i have the ntcs, the ncells and the wordlinks of the world
didn’t know someday i’d make an analogy
wherein i’d be comparing them to the worthless politicians
the politicians of our times
जुन गोरु आएपनि कानै चीरेको

i had wanted to wait around
to sip the tea
to be around them
to hang out with them
and to guffaw along
to once in a while pinch the other guy
after i’d made a joke
yes i’d wanted to be one of them
but they wouldn’t let me
they told me that i should go
and they would come along later
later they said
in a pick-up truck
that could haul ladders and all the necessary wires
a pick-up truck
the one with a yellow plate

why wait o why wait then good samaritan
the fixer
why wait
the driver i was told
the driver
the driver was not there yet
please
i should just go and wait at home

crossing the road
rejected
devastated
i hopped into the tottering blue micro
crouching inside were faces
staring and blank and non-smiling faces
what would happen if i suddenly shouted:
“NIR MANI DHAKAL MERO SASURA HOINAAAAAAAA!!!!”
(long story)
faces ready to pay their fares
faces ready to buy or sell some wares
bare they were
ready to deal ready to deal
for money .. or perhaps for some honey
भन्छु म कनी कनी

and while i wait for the man from ntc
i burn ncell’s expensive bandwidth
the man at their office fixed it for me
i ponder when i see my connection gather yonder
it’s nearing 12 .. it’s nearing 12
maybe 12 maybe 1
he had said
i better go and get ready to make some tea
to sit and drink with the guys from ntc

After paying the tuk-tuk lady RS 15, I headed off towards the Chowk to take in the free show brought to us, in all probability, by Thugs, Inc. A man who looked irritated as if fire-ants were wreaking havoc in his underarms, was blaring his loud face into the microphone:

“THANK YOU FRIENDS .. FOR SUPPORTING OUR CAUSE. THIS CORRUPT GOVERNMENT HAS TO GO. THIS CORRUPT PRIME MINISTER MUST STEP DOWN. RIGHT NOW!”

This man was smack in the middle of New Baneshwore Chowk addressing the countless commuters who were jammed in traffic thanks to him and his entourage of about 8. He was addressing the awed pedestrains who were staring at his audacity in disbelief. He was addressing more than a dozen Armed Police Forces personnel all decked out in riot (curbing) gear with a stern look on their faces. Like the tuk-tuk earlier, they too were not budging – something wasn’t right – - it was like a dog ignoring a tempting piece of bone. He was addressing me. I felt as if my heart had stopped pumping blood and had switched to pumping rage instead – a heavy dose of anger started to sweep through my veins. Him and his cohorts then started to chant slogans against the government.

This was a protest. Ok understood. We all have a fundamental right to do so. Ok, got it. But in this manner? By doing all they can (and whenever they please) to disrupt our lives? What about our fundamental rights to defy such bullshit? They were 8; the APF dudes easily outnumbered them. The commuters, of course, numbered in the hundreds. The APF had formed a barrier on the crosswalk ensuring that no motor could pass through and rain on our thugs parade. Which side were the cops on? I felt I had to do .. something.

I to an APF dude: “Key bhairako yo?”

APF dude: “Chakka jam!”

I: “Yeso garna paincha ra bhaneko? Yo ta atti nai bhayo ni. Tyo manchey ta tyaha cha jahaan traffic police hunu parney ho. Ra jahan traffic police cha, tyahan ta gaadi haru hunu parney ho ni .. hoina ra?”

APF dude:

I: “Tiniharu aath jana cha, tapaiharu chaudha jana .. rokna sakidaina? Yo ta sarai nai bhayo bhaneko. Kei garnus na yaar! Kam sey kam tyaha gayera uslai bhanna ta milcha hola ni ki BRB lai hatauna traffic jam nai garney ho bhaney Baluwatar ma BRB ko dera agadi garnu bhanera ..”

APF dude: “Mann ta cha ni .. order po chaina ta hamilai.”

The APF dude then switched his demeanor back to donning a sterner face; he looked as if he was almost about to fake growl. Those cops sort of reminded me of the barking stray dogs in my tole – barking like there will never be a tomorrow but then that’s all they ever do: bark, without hurting a fly.

So then here we were. The police weren’t doing anything. The thugs were doing whatever they want. The commuters were patient enough to let them run their little show. Had the police not set up body barriers on the crosswalk, the motorists easily would’ve had the upper hand assuming they would’ve pressed their accelerators which would’ve made made one, bad-ass, statement; not to mention running out the thugs, if not running them over. Wishful thinking there because the motorists, of course, didn’t do such thing. They just waited. The pedestrians, for their part, seemed to be thankful for some free entertainment.

I, for one, wanted to confront the yelling chakajamkaari. With such intent I took a step towards him. And immediately took two back as I thought about .. things. Maybe the motorists and the rest of pedestrians alike were also thinking about the same .. things. Maybe the police were also thinking about the same ..things. Wondering how much longer will we be thinking about these .. things, I succumbed to the thuggery and hurried west towards Thapathali – on my own two protesting feet.