December 11, 2006. It rained today morning and the mercury felt down. However, I could not stop myself from taking shower in such a bitterly cold day.
I bathe daily. Today in the day, not in the morning. I have caught cold for a couple of days and was down with fever since yesterday and could not get up in the morning.
Whether it be a hot day or a chilly morning, I always “water” my body with water-as-it-comes-from-the-tap. Icy water gives me pleasure; somewhere in the brain–probably in the hypothalamus—something happens and my body except the extremities becomes warm then. May be it is psychological but if I don’t wet myself with cold water I feel as if my body is not mine.
Oh, it appears that winter this time will be troublesome. It’s so cold soon enough.
I remembered –while shivering after the bath—the street kids who live in open. What would be they doing then? What will they do in spitting winter? If the winter of the not-blue-blooded-princes is not first in the street, they are, for sure, accustomed to the royal wintriness of Kathmandu. Brutality of the winter is in stock but they will find out their own way to come through it. Though only veiling their body with threadbare piece of clothing, they probably will sniff glue or may be the ones who could manage some dough, in whatever way, will booze some cheap local inebriant and try not to feel the bitterness of the cold.
To the admin–-the blind, deaf and lame admin that thinks no need to look over social matters–-the street-livers are but a burden: when they are alive they are nuisance, and when they die they are a white elephant (the corpses need to be thrown away and for that money would be expended!). For the INGOs and NGOs, they are mine of dollar subvention only. In the name of the street children, they bait lots of dough: from the donors but spend for their own luxury. Nuts. Lunch and dinner in the five stars in the name of street kids but the targets are in real ignored.
In the city, a self-seeking city, none cares whether they live or die. Whatever their fortune may be, even I can be of no help to them.
Yo aachhuchhu jaado maa som haru baato ko chheu maa khulla aakaash muni glu sunghera syco (their argot!) hundai masti garne holaan…Ketaa (keti) ho ghar nachhode ko bhae raamro hunthyo ni ta! Tara sabai jana ko ghar nai po kahan hunchha ra?