I called up Swamijee at Bengal today. But he’s set off to Varanasi. I have been told that he will reach the Aashrama by tomorrow. I tried to cell phone him, but of no use…May be he is right now on the train.
(I have never trod a train; will I do that this time?)

If he says ok, I will leave Kathmandu this week. But I fear the summer of the tarai and North India. Baba is against my journeying this time. Baini and Dai too do not appear to be in my favour. Aama also is probably against my desire of the trip. May be they all are (over-)conscious of the security condition of the country and the summer.

Since my schooldays, I wanted to write something “big.” Basically I was a poet. However, at present, the poet within me has died. Thinking that fiction cannot be my forte, I did not indite any story earlier. The reason behind this was I never liked constructing characters and executing them in no time.

These days I do not do poetry because I am tired of it. I have been attracted towards fiction— fact-based fiction.

Some years ago, I had a plan of a book in Nepali (within a year). It is/was titled “Manchhe: Chita, Chinta ra Chintan.” (= Man: Cemetery, Carking and Contemplation). Poetry in conversational form that spoke of philosophy, science, politics, pessimism, optimism, sociology and that all conflict within myself and of course in the present world. I had started writing it. And a part of it was published in a magazine also. I was kind of warning the humankind for it being on the verge of being defunct because of its propensity towards destruction— be it the try to overcome the nature or the ruthless competition for arsenal and nuke among nations.

But I myself sort of let it abort. Why? May be because I was work-shy. May be because I felt it’s worthless because no body is going to read me or hear me (I mean, ponder what I say.) Had I thought that the humankind is capable of understanding the fact/has already understood what I was going to tell it? May be.

All the same, I am afraid of drooping of my current inclination towards the fact-based fiction. But I don’t know which language I will choose—Nepali or English.

All in all, I want to travel this time. I want to gain experiences, see places, and meet people. I believe this would for sure be adjunct for my wish to write a novel.

By Himanshu Kaishuvam Posted in Uncategorized Tagged

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