Hijo raati (aaja bihan) sapana maa mailey mero sabai daant jhareko dekhein.

Such nightmares often repeat.


Thunderclap at Basantapur

After asking about the charger of the Ericsson Model CH688 at a couple of mobile repair centres in the Bishal Bazaar Complex, I went to the DDC counter in Basantapur. It had been many days that I had not eaten ice cream.

The strawberry was not tasty today. No complain, though.

I went inside the Kasthamandap. A girl probably was waiting for her date. The monument has these days been a dating point. Okay. However, if I ever happen to date a girl, I won’t go to that place.

I was returning then. In front of the Kaalbhairav, somebody nudged me. It was Ravi, the environmentalist. He asked me to go back to the temple in front of the Maru Ganesh that I had just walked around. He said Naresh and other guys too would be there. Fine, I was looking for Naresh for weeks. He hadn’t given me a copy of his dissertation despite his promise. So I was not happy with him. Ravi told me that Naresh rid bed probably because of jaundice followed by typhoid for weeks. “He’s just building up his strength now,” he said.

Naresh and Khadag had just reached the junction. Later Sujan joined us.

We talked about the Tribhuvan University and its infradig scholars.

It started raining so we went upstairs, below the temple’s roof.

While I was explaining them about the essence of carving that has lovemaking postures in Hindu temples in Nepal, and Tantra, the sky turned murky. There was cloudburst.

Coincidentally, one of the myths I was telling them was about Lord Indra, thunderbolt, erotic carvings, and temples.

I was getting terrified with the bolt of lightning and the sound. Ravi noticed it and joked for a while.

Suddenly a thunderbolt fell on the temple top. Everybody was frightened. Tiles fell from the roof. A pigeon too fell down from no where. I could see cabbages that were kept in a doko by a vegetable seller down the temple scattered all around. In no time, I felt we were no safe there, and asked the guys to run away as fast as they can. I climbed down the podia and reached the next temple. The guys had not moved since then. I gestured them to move fast. They came to the temple where I was.

I saw the pigeon drowned in water. It was moving, though. So I decided to rescue it. I brought it to the temple where we were. In a place were it could get better.

I saw a lot of people surrounding a cab. I could not understand why. But after a moment, I realised that people were trying to send a woman to the hospital. The lightning fell on her too. She got a high voltage shock. What a disaster?

The temples where we were are in open. And at high place too. No earthing there. So high probability of lighting. All of us knew something about electric charge and lightning, so unanimously we decided to run off.

Had we reached in the vicinity of the Taleju Bhawani temple, another thunderclap fell down somewhere near. However, we could not locate where.

We went inside a shopping complex, and talked about the narrow escape from the thunderbolt. Sujan remarked that my instinct turned real. He was referring to my being afraid with the lightning earlier.

When I returned to Chabahil, from the club, I checked out the online news sites. No news about any casualty. Hope the girl survived.

Thamel diary

Thamel Diary

The guys had asked me to be a part of the delegation to the MoE. However, since the minister had to the HoR, we could not meet him. And, the mission got aborted.

From the MoE, I went to Thamel. After circumambulating the area, I returned to the Universal Money Exchange, gave a buzz to Prakash dai. He said he was far.

Before reaching the Exchange, somewhere in the area I saw a foreigner humming a melody and smiling at me. I could not ascertain the gender of that person with long hair and no facial hair. But the honest-to-god middle-aged westerner appeared to be moonstruck. Maile ulai dahiney aankha jhimkai diyein. In response, s/he did the same with both the eyes.

I wanted to check my balance from the ATM there in front of the Kathmandu Guest House. I tried to remember the pin codes of both of my debit cards. But no success. I often forget pin codes, passwords and that all.

It was not evening then and there was no fun to be in Thamel that time. I decided to go to the Newroad.

En route to Chhetrapati, one person asked me if I wanted anything. I knew he was a broker. May be a pimp. May be a drug peddler. I did not care about what he said, but decided to talk to him.

I asked him what he does. He said he was a trekking guide. May be he told me a lie. I cooked up a tall tale in no time and told him that I just returned from trekking.

He asked me whether it was my second time. He had basis to ask so. He said that he had seen me in the area months ago. I said, “It’s my seventh time.”

“What do you do here?” he asked.
“I’ve been working here for a social welfare organization,” I lied.
“You a doctor?”
“Yes, I am,” I replied.

I talked to him about the trekking to Gosainkunda. He asked me from which route had I been there. I could not say that because I have never been there. And, I lied: “It was three years ago. So I don’t remember the name of the places.”

He did not forget to ask me where I was from. I had a readymade answer: Lapen. He got puzzled. “Is that in Europe?” he asked. I again had to resort to a fib. “Yes,” I said.

“Neighbouring coutries?” he wanted to be clear.
“Germany and Austria,” I told.
He was satisfied then. But the poor fish will not discover any country called Lapen in the Globe that too in between Deutschland and Austria.

He did not give up following me. He said, “You look like Brahmin.”
I pretended that I did not understand anything. He tried to explain: “Our caste-sytem… Brahmin…” But I did not care.

We had reached the umbrella-chowk of Chhetrapati. I was sort of getting bored with his company. So I thanked him for talking to me and bid g’bye. I shook hands with Mr. Don Lama, whose name I guess is Dhan Bahadur Lama. One Lama from the countryside who was waiting for a westerner to open the door of his destiny.

Sorry Mr. Lama I was the wrong person at right place! You have to try again. All the best.