Congratulations for Sanduk Ruit for winning the Magsaysay for Peace, Int’l Understanding.
When I entered the room and greeted the seniors and shook hands with them, I heard a comment: What a change!
I didn’t understand what that was for. But I could guess that they were referring to by visual aspect.
After a while, Ravi dai showed me a picture and asked, “Is this you?”
It was a group photo of the Aawhan Top Three taken a decade ago. One Hamal form Birendra Sainik School was first, I and Ranju Pokhrel (all seniors were repeating her name) were second, and One Regmi –I believe he is from Siphal– was third.
They give me the picture. I said it’s better if it can be get scanned. Later, Jwalanta (yesterday I mistook his name for Janak) scanned it out. Also, with his cellphone cam, he shot me. He’s said that he would place the two pics together and bring tomorrow. But for what I did not ask.
What would it look like?
Ten years ago there was a slender line of moustache above my upper lip but no other facial hair at all. Now I am hirsute. Moustachioed and bearded. A true manly characteristics.
Also, I did not wear specs that time. Now, I have specs. You cannot see my chin now. Only the ears haven’t change.
The change with the surge of time is obvious. I don’t get surprised with it. However, I always feel sort of pissed off when I am asked questions regarding my appearance.
But I act as if I am cool, and simply say: “It’s natural. That’s all.”
Why do we stick the posters that have imprint of Krishna winning over Kaliyanaaga above our entrance and other gates?
I don’t see any reason to worship Krishna with more importance today. It’ the day of the Naagas
Gyan told me that Prof. VP Agrawal to is planning to charge money from aspirants for the thesis work in his lab. Rs 15,000 for molecular work and Rs 5000 for general media work. I said that instead of the regular work at RLABb, I am interested in my own research idea. I don’t know whether I will get an appointment with the professor.
When I met Ramaa dai (Ramaa Nath Shrestha) today morning, he asked me to rejoin the Aahwan Samuha, the club that has been felicitating SLC graduates of Ward no. 7 since 2046 BS. I had automatically become the member of the Samuha in 2053 when my SLC results were out. I remembered the day when I too was felicitated. I feel it was yesterday; nonetheless, it’s been a decade. An age! New generation has come to the fore. Two generations after me, according to my flaky calculations!
I stood second in the ward, and the award and the certificate have been keepsake. Everyday I come across the souvenirs. I’ve been using that dictionary; those woodcrafts have decorated the common room of my home; the shawl is above my bookshelf; the metallic replica of the Pashupatinath temple is in my showcase.
However, except mentioning myself as (an active) member of the club in my CV for two or three occasions, I never cared a fig of it. I realised it. And, without taking any time, I said okay to him.
I joined the club members in the evening. Jeetendra received me. He appeared to be one batch junior to me. Jeetendra introduced me to Mr. Arun. He welcomed me.
I met other guys as well. I don’t remember their names, though. One guy studies engineering at ACME. I asked him about Nirman and Nirakar, my buddies who used to be faculties at the college. He told me that both of them have gone to the US. OK, guys! Best of luck to you. Hope you will be a success story very soon in the land of infinite opportunities.
Mr. Ravi, the president of the Samuha, appears to have very good sense of humour. Jeetendra introduced me to him, saying that I was ’52 batch. He stood up from his chair, and asked him, “Is he 52 years?” Everybody laughed.
There was another guy. Janak, I think, is his name. A computer engineering student at Pulchowk. His job was to enter the applications for official record. But sometimes he was busy with some computer language. I didn’t feel appropriate peer at the screen. He was Aahwan second in 2058.
One person from Mugu had come to meet Ravi dai. Ramaa dai told me that he is the district co-ordinator of the Help Nepal. (Actually, the Help Nepal’s office was the junction for the Samuha members.) Seeing a lot of musaas (moles?) in his hands, I was sort of dazed. He gave a yarshagumba to Ramaa dai (or may be to Ravi). He passed it on to other guys. Somebody said it is half plant and half animal. I explained them that it’s not a plant, but a fungus that has infected the larva. The guys were really excited to see and more particularly to put the magic bullet for virility and vigour in hand. Somebody said a hot joke regarding the natural Viagra. Two girls too had smile in their face when they were observing the titillating piece.
For the first time, I will write sth in Nepali here.
Aaaj ko mero din, TV herda, guff garda, patrikaa padhda ani sutdaa ma nai bityo! Bholi dekhi vishwavidyalaya janu parney chha….
chhito sutnu parney…. k garney nindra nai laagdaina….
I slept for about 12 hours. From 1:15 am to 1:00 pm. Woke up, took bathe, ate lunch, and then took a nap again. From 3:00 pm to 7:3 0 pm. Mosquito buzzing around my ear disturbed me and I woke up.
For a couple of days, I am feeling not well. Mild headache, discomfort while breathing and abrupt rise in the heart beat awhile are complains. I don’t want to visit a doc though. I never like going to the doctors. Had Navin been here, it would be a great help for me. Deep and other guys are there. But I don’t want to disturb them.
Also, the whole body is aching since the day I played football for a while. Guys had football match. It was final. I also was invited. Last year I too was a player. Before the start of the game, I with other pals gave it a go: long shots, passes, drills…
Yesterday, I felt I took rest. However, I had to go outside. I walked all the way to Lazimpat. I waited for the microbus some minutes. None came. So, I decided to go by foot. I met one Binod Paudel en route. The acquaintance too has Microbiology background. A student leader. Talking to each other, it was easy for both of us to get through the way.
With Prakash dai, I went to Thamel. Pramila di and Dewansha also were in the same cab.. I have been helping him writing letters to his attorney in the US. However, his representative that screw-eyed Raju is nuts. He has no idea about law and that stuff. Sometimes, I feel he’s been swindling money from Prakash bro. Even Prakash has realised it.
Good God! Prakash dai has enough courage to smoke green in house. I could smell the smoke when we were about to leave. Shall I be in awe of his guts? Nevertheless, I think nobody in his home would take it seriously: a chronic sufferer of arthritis smoking marijuana. May be they take it for a medicine.
I don’t have charger of this obsolete cellphone set. Ericsson, Model: CH668. I am not aware whether its accessories are available here in the Valley. I worked out for a couple of hours yesterday to find out information regarding its accessories in the Internet.
Yesterday nice chatting with Seavanee. The vet is very smart. At first, she didn’t tell me much about her. She posed herself as a fresh SLC graduate. Nevertheless, since I am very good at uncovering information about people, I attained some info about her in no time.
She was sort of surprised. She’s said that she is adept in palm reading. But I believe if she got a chance to read my palm, she will be blown out of the water. My lines. They are unique. After all, I am different from others!
Since my childhood I have been hearing the news regarding the Middle East crisis. Now again Beirut is under fire. The war between Israel and Hezbollah has devastated life in Lebanon.
Yesterday I literally weeped when I saw mass burial of the (one-sided) war victims. Many were fleeing their hometown. Many could not because they did not have enough money. Kids and women left high and dry in open……
Why should always the commoners be victims of wars?
A boy in India fell down in a pit. He was rescued after 50 hours. TV coverage was nice…
I don’t know much about Pushpalal’s personality. Again, respects to the comrade.
Bedav did not let me play with his cellphone. Bullocks! I too won’t let you use my things.
Will we be able to find solution to the CDM issue? Hope so.
I like art movies, and the recent one that I saw “Water” by Deepa Mehta is really touchy.
Widows and their difficult in past India because of social injustice and that all….
I failed to uplod BP’s pic.
If you want…, here’s the link
Today is Shrawan 6. My respects to Late BP Koirala.
I am attached to him. Not only because I belong to the same clan. Also because his persona –both in politics and literature–has been kind of inspiration to me. Before I understood what BP really is, I used to say “I am the second BP.” My family members still tease me mimicking the style in which I said so in my childhood.
When I get sore throat, my voice becomes like that of BP when he was ailing from throat cancer. And, then again I am teased!
When he was breathing, I never got a chance to meet him. Had I met him, I even would not understand that time who he was. However, despite my tender age, I participated in his death procession.
Carrying me, Baba stood at the chowk just opposite of the Krishna Pauroti—waiting the procession. I saw BP’s body laid in an open lorry that was passing through different places of the city before cremation. Flowers and coconuts are the things –that I still remember– around the body. Only the face was seeable.
Bald head, grey facial hair, face turning pale and with mouth agape (I believe mouth was plugged with cotton). Again, his face had some luster.
Hundreds of people were taking part in the procession. Among them was Toyaraj Nepal, Baba’s friend. Slogans were being chanted.
JayaNepal and Bir BP Amar Rahun! I don’t remember other words now.
Even after a quarter of the century of his passing away, BP’s political clout is skyhigh. None has even come to the fore to challenge his persona. His party, his disciples and his kith and kin all are cashing on BP’s name. But not all of them have abided by the principles he had put forward.
He had political vision. He was farsighted. Even now his doctrines are equally applicable to today’s Nepal. However, except lip service, the Nepali Congress has not walked in the path BP had shown. If his party in reality had followed the BP doctrine, the country would excel in democratic practices.
I read BP when I was in school. Not as the part of the curriculum, though. I was interested in literature, and his works along with others’ were stashed away in Baba’s bookshelf. I read him before I understood what the heck sex and psychology are.
You can say that I got matured along with lit vintage BP.
I really adore BP as a writer. He is a great analyst of people’s mind. Despite some flaws in lingual usage, BP is superb at his works.
He was a socialist. He was a thinker. He was a politician. BP was a multidimensional personality.
Well, I should not forget Bishweshwor Prasad Koirala regarding my name Keshav Prasad Koirala.
I have been christened with some other name which too begins with the letter K. For general use, I was named Keshav.
Officially I was Keshav Koirala till Grade IV. That time I participated in the Intra- school essay competition. The occasion was none other than the silver jubilee of my school The Himalaya Vidya Mandir. I stood first. From the dais, Tirtharaj Adhikari, the Nepali teacher who was also the MC, called me for accepting the prize as Keshav Prasad Koirala.
Then after I have been Keshav Prasad Koirala, officially. (But my pen name is Keshav P Koirala when I write in English.)
My attachment to BP might have some role for accepting the long name—Keshav Prasad. However, I’ve never liked being called as KP.
Since I was supposed to meet Gopal Jha at the Department of Archaeology, I could not attend the meeting at the TU today. Calling me up from Maldah, West Bengal, Swami Omkarananda Giri had asked me to meet Mr. Jha regarding the publication of the Datebook. And, it was a more-than-an hour-long meeting with the archaeologist. Interview—you can call it.
Moreover, we discussed on different issues including publication of a brochure on traditional Nepali architecture, essence of Tantra in Nepali Hindu and Buddhist architecture etc.
I asked a question, and he kept on answering for minutes. The fellow can speak continuously for long time. His experience counted a lot when he was dealing with a journalist!
It was obvious that I had to meet him since April when I was in Varanasi. I would meet him yesterday or the day before when Swami called me up. However, because of my being busy in some other chores, the date for the tête-à-tête was fixed for today.
– – – – – – – — – – — – – – – – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – –
I was invited for the meeting regarding the CDM issue at TU at 1O’clock. But it did not start even at 2:30 pm. So I had to leave Kirtipur.
Of late guys informed me that everything went wrong. The establishment is trying to make a real dog’s breakfast of the issue. I don’t know how the guys dealt with the HoD’s comment. In so far as I can think of what can be the motive behind the indifferent stance of the HoD, it is but a ploy to attenuate the campaign by resorting to the divide and rule principle. You say something that may divide students, and you rule them!
The ulterior motive of an individual or two has been the impediment to find the way out of the imbroglio. For me, it appears that the condition is aggravating.
By the way, what could be the reason behind the invitation to all the faculties today?
The HoD is nuts! She has no brain. She cannot take firm decision. She is not bold enough to be an administrator. She has some unkwon fear of the “real baddie behind the scene.” She has inferiority complex.
Other faculties? Well, they might have felt that it’s their bounden duty to abide by what their boss says!
Though they are MScs or PhDs, they are not eggheads. They are mere employees at the University who work only for the salary. This is a far cry from what an academic environment is expected to be.
When I determinedly pushed resignation stating that I was quitting the job to pursue further studies, on the day of farewell, the editor of the daily- also my immediate boss- earnestly asked me if that was the motive behind the leaving.
The septuagenarian would have asked me the question because he could not believe me deciding to go to the university that, as a journalist, more particularly during the brainstorming before manufacturing editorial pieces, I always used to criticise for its mismanagement and its infradig scholars.
Nothing was to screen, so I told him why the very university! (I said something about the course that I was going to do and apropos my future plans.)
All the same, facing the insipidity of the administration and the mortifying intellect of teachers, I wish I animadverted on the university again.
Now I just recall the words of Mr. Ram Pradhan: “Keshav, tapain saanchhai tyasto ‘jhoor’ thaun maa padhna jana laagyaa ho ta?”
(Here’s a link of an article that has something to do with this piece.
It costs about 17USD for a sample to be DNA sequenced.
Going through a scientific paper is a job that requires a lot of patience.
It’d been more than three fortnights I had downloaded papers for literature review re the topic in which I may write research proposal.
Today I gathered patience, and completed reading eight papers. Good for me! Five are yet to be read.
Glancing at the pdf files is a boring task. Eyes very soon get tired when it’s screen to be read. In contrast, hardcopies are user-friendly. No trouble to your eyes. You can underline or highlight words, clauses or sentences. Also, your scribbles will remain as cogent evidences (on the pages/documents) which will later shew that you had strived and made an effort to reach a goal!
Of late, Dewansha got the documents printed out for me. Thank you bro!
Let me finish the left ones. Then I will complete writing the proposal.
I spent more than four hours in Thamel area today. Was sort of busy. Thus, could not go to Kirtipur. I am unaware about the developments in the CDM today.
Despite his promises, Prakash dai hasn’t given me the
cellphone yet. Dewansha believes that Prakash is only
pulling the wool over my eyes; he is of the opinion
that I am only being exploited.
I don’t mind helping others.
I have been helping Prakash dai by drafting letters to
his attorney in the States, and his business partners
in Europe, interpret the legal documents and sometimes
I have learnt a lot while helping him.
Today too, he came home and asked me for my
assistance. I wrote letter to his attorney Mr. Lerner
requesting the refunding of the amount that was
deposited as service charge for B-2 Visa Petition.
I read all the mails that were sent by the attorney’s
office. There is no system of refund, it has been
clearly mentioned. I explained it to him. However, he
has been sort of obstinate. He has wasted more than $
100 for sending Xerox copies of the documents and
request letter for refunding via courier. Again, he
asked me to write an email. Okay. I did it.
I know, however, not even a cent will be refunded.
His representative Mr. Anil Bahadur Pradhan is a
moron. He knows nothing about the transactions. But
saying that he would work for the refunding, Pradhan
is swindling money from Prakash.
At the communication centre where we worked for a
couple of hours, Prakash dai projected me as a boy of
19 years old. The owner hardly believed him.
At Sainik Restaurant, I got irritated by Mr. Pradhan’s
monotonous and arrogant rumblings. The boss-eyed is
running after a spam mail that has asked him to claim
one million dollars in some place of Africa. I
explained him that such mails are but a ploy to
deceive people. But he did not believe me. Go to hell,
Mr. Pradhan’s English is poor than that of a school
boy. Nonetheless, he misbelieves that his is very
good. Only twisting your tongue while pronouncing a
word or two doesn’t make your English good!
In Thamel, a felle followed me. I took no time to
recongise him as a broker. The following is the brief
Broker: Where are you from? You Indian?
Me: (Why the heck everybody asks me where I am from?
Fuck off you sonuvabitch! I said to myself.) Not an
Indian. Am from LAPEN.
Broker: Oh, Lapen!(He pretended that he knew a lot
Ummm… Is the place in South?
Me: South. Yes it’s in the South. (South Asia, you
Broker: Which language do you speak sir?
Me: (The same language you speak in. Bloody hell.)
Many languages. English, German….
(I knew he is a Nepali who probably would be a hotel
broker, or a drug peddler or a pimp. But again asked
Where the hell are you from?
Broker: From village.
Broker: Where do you stay here?
Me: (I was confused then. I took time and told him a
blatant lie) Annapurna
Broker: When did you arrive?
Me: It’s been more than two months.
(Then he came to the point)
Broker: Sir do you want some good hashish?
Me: I never smoke.
Broker: Then what do you need sir?
Me: (Eff off now!)
Broker: Gals? Nice gals. Do you wanna have a look?
Me: Oh, no. I have got my galfren to roll in the hay.
(I know he did not understand all what said, except NO
Then he was about to leave me.
Me: How much does a girl charge?
Broker: (I could notice delight in his voice then.) Do
you wanna have a look? You choose, then we will fix
Me: No. I just wanted to know the price.
Broker: What’s the use then?
Then the bugger left without saying a word.
Thamel has been safe haven for drug peddlers, and
prostitution. Where the heck is the police and
administration? I have seen many cops taking bribe
from Kashimiri, Tibetan and other shopkeepers in the
area. Also, they extort money from the shopkeepers.
They get commission from the drug dealers and whores.
I saw Dr. Abhi Subedi there. He was walking with a guy
carrying an umbrella. It was raining. But did not talk to him. I have never spoke to him. So how could I?
It’s raining now and I can hear the rumbling of thunder. I like this sort of weather.
I sometimes feel that I am a sheer waste of talent!
It was raining and I wanted to get wet. At times I like to walk in open when it’s raining, provided I don’t have anything that would be spoiled by water. I When I was a careless schoolboy, I loved moving when it was raining without carrying umbrella or putting on raincoat. No matter, I used to get fever and my mom would scold me. Being nostalgic, I went for a stroll.
From Gaurighat via the Mrigasthali jungle I headed towards one of my favourite hangouts—the spot just opposite of the Pashupatinatha temple.
Notwithstanding the slippery surface of the aslant jungle (in rainy season) and the evening falling unco murky (because of dark clouds looming in the sky and mild precipitation), I—encumbered with bitter feelings for the villains at the CDM, particularly the one who pretends to be well-wisher of the student but is the real baddie behind the scene—was going to spend some time in the haven to appease myself.
A couple was on date there. I didn’t give a fig. I felt, if I want I can date different girls seven days a week. I said to myself, “Boy! Don’t brag. You haven’t dated anyone yet.” So what?
Some dead bodies were about to be cremated in the Aryaghat and Bhashmeshworeghat. I heard screams of women, for sure close relatives of the deceased ones. Death is obvious in the living world.
Two youngsters were talking about Islam, extremism and suicide bombings in different parts of the world. I liked their duologue. Analysis of one of theirs was nice. I wish I joined them. But didn’t feel apposite. They left. Another couple came and took the seat.
I had almost eaten up a pocketful of pesta and kismiss! The place could not relive me from anxiety. I decided to move ahead. I just kept on walking. I tottered over to different places. Places in Gaushala, Jayabageshwori, Mitrapark, Chabahil chowk, Ganeshthan, then back home. Some chicks I saw on the way were buxom. Ok. I am but a guy. Not a eunuch. Desire arose. It’s natural.
Nonetheless, I could not calm down from the CDM issue. Why was the today’s meeting cancelled? Was it only because the Dean had some other important things to do or it was a ploy to attenuate the campaign?
One day went in vain. I wonder why I could not control myself from gambling today.
Money went, time went.
Some new experiences, however, I gained.
When I had left home, I had thought that I would return completely wet. But it did not happen. It did not rain to that extent. However, the water drops that fell on my glasses made it difficult to see clearly. I had to wipe the glasses with my handkerchief time and again. At least, I would have put on my cap!
(Because of sluggish connection, I could not open any webpage yesterday. And, this piece could not be posted. Nevertheless, messengers were not out of function and I could talk to Paras. I requested him to post this as a comment. And he did it.
Again, I preferred, with some addition, posting it as an entry rather than a mere comment.)
Ashadh 29, 2063 BS.
Today is 193rd Bhanu Jayanti. In fact, I realised this only in the evening. Because of the CDM pandemonium, I forgot the essence of the day. Nevertheless, my due respects to the great poet of Nepali language.
(Today I was busy on a meeting cum discussion along with the faculties of the CDM, students, the Dean of the IoST, and the office holders of the FSU of the TU vis-à-vis issue of the CDM. So I could not go to programmes organised to celebrate the birth anniversary of AadiKavi Bhanubhakta Aacharya.)
Twelve years ago, same day I was participating in a poetry competition organised by Little Angels School. I was in grade IX that time. Ranjanmani Poudyal, a radio-journo at the Kantipur FM now, was a batch senior to me. We two were sent from our school for the contest. Ranjan got consolation prize and I got a certification with appreciation. Next day, after the PT and daily prayers in the school ground, our principal Ms Savitri Singh congratulated both of us for bringing home the bacon, and announced that the school would reward us. She said she would give Ranjan 1000 bucks and me 500 bucks. I don’t know whether Ranjan got it, however, it was never given a penny.
Meanwhile, after mentioning these things, I want to be honest and go for a confession. The poem which I recited in the competition was not mine. Tirtha Raj Adhikari, our Nepali teacher who was a student of my dad, wrote it for me. Actually, the poem that I had composed, he thought, was not good enough to win an award, and indited the one for me in a night. I was reluctant to accept the poem and asked him to send his son Hemanta for the contest. Nonetheless, he said that the eligibility criteria would not be met when his son who was in grade VII would be sent, and added that he did not see any other chap in the whole school adept enough even to recite a poem.
Despite aggrandizement for the participation in the contest and appreciation by the organisers and the school, I feel sort of infelicitous because the poem was not mine. Had the poem been mine, I would be proud of myself thus far. That was the first time and the last too when a literary piece that was projected as mine was not mine.
I used to love writing poems. I have produced plethora of poems. However, these days I don’t enjoy poetry. The poet within me has died. I don’t know why.
Meanwhile, I would like to remember some of my feelings about Bhanu Jayanti and of being Nepali. Nepalis in India celebrate it as a great festival. However, for most of we Nepalis who are Nepali citizens damn care the essence of this day. A couple of years ago when I used to work for The Himalayan Times, Anjita Pradhan—a colleague who hailed from Darjeeling—was sort of shocked when she noticed the undermining of the birthday of the great poet in his birth place.
Yes this is an irony. People of Nepali origin but different nationality are proud to be Nepali. However, Nepalis with roots in Nepal but living either in the country or abroad are obsessed with a kind of an inferiority complex. Nepalis from Darjeeling and Sikkim fought for the recognition of the language in India, and they proudly say that they are Nepalis (Gurkhas). However, if you meet a Nepali from Kathmandu in India, he will hesitate to tell you that he is Nepali.
A couple of months ago when I was in Varanasi, I came across Nepalis from five countries viz; Nepal, India, Bhutan, Burma, and China (Tibet). The descent and pride factors when analysed, among them, the worst ones are from Nepal.
I don’t suggest anybody to be jingoist. However, every body should love his or her descent. Be rationally nationalist. Love your language and don’t forget your background. Love your people and country.
I am tired today.
The things I wanted to mention today included chat with Dr. Pramod Aryal, the “try for negotiation” by Nirajan and Nawaraj, debate with Naresh and the lock out at the CDM.
But I am not going to write any thing more.