I tiptoed up the stairs to the kitchen to fetch a candle. My mom was busy chopping down vegetables for dinner letting out one of her own mellifluous eastern songs ýKhola pari ma maya laudinaýbarkhai lagyoýý The song seemed so beautiful and apt at the rainy dark evening. I caught her offguard and her voice subsided. ýAaaja k cha tarkariý? I tried to change the topic. ýtalai man parne, kwaati ! Kwaati bhaye pugena talain?ý Oh ! I Loved quati. The neighbor nextdoor used to tease me for being a kwaati boy throughout my primary years. Before long, I had subconsciously finished all the problems drained in FM. I thought of Nepali hw once more. I was in no mood for writing. ýLoadshedding thiyo sirý ýaaja kaapi lyauna birsený I was thinking of the excuses for the next day. ýaaja khana khana pani birsis ki?ý would be my teacherýs usual reply. I laughed aloud in the dark. I let out a sigh and lied down in my bed by the window listening to ýlove songs after dark.ý Mind shifted restlessly from one thing to another. Outside, rain was beating down hard on the corns and flowers alike. Suddenly, thoughts of Shivani besiezed meýher pure, unruffled, and naýve face brought unprecedented peace in the dark. She looked even more beautiful in the white and grey school uniform. Heart beat began to race. The candle light flickered as a gust of wind rushed in from outside vacillating her image from one corner to another. Next door, I could hear my sister talk enthusiastically to dad about the events of her day at school. She loved school more than any of us in the house. After her merry mirth, she made her way to my room to relay the outrageous drama. Though we shared many evenings talking about school, I didnýt like the idea of her breaching my privacy at this odd hour of romantic thoughts. I pretended to fall asleep. She sang quietly ý kaha jane, kaha jane putali ka hool..jata tatai..fuleka channý she checked cutting her line short ýahem ahemý. Her singing reminded me of an incident few months back when she was practicing arduously for her parents day. She was practicing so loudly that she literally lost her voice on the day of the grand day. I couldnýt hold my sadistic laughter nomore. ******* ýkukur! Suteko acting po pardo raichaý Before I recovered, she went on with the usual funny tales of teachers, boys and gals at her school in one breath. Interestingly, there was always such drama unfolding at her school. Though I never mentioned, my other sister and I were jealous of her co-ed schooling. It seemed much more fun for different reasons. Be it stories about bhandar khal, maligaonýs bablu, queer teachers, stabbing and gangfights, postcard mania, she perked everyone at home in the evenings. Seeing me distracted, she asked ýOyss! K sochiraý I didnýt know what to say. ýshivani ko bare ta hoinaý she queried in an innocent tease. I blushed hard unable to utter a word. ýPakh! Mami lai gayera bhandinchuý she took off chanting ýMAAMI MAAMIý Alarmed, I took off after her catching her in the middle of the stairs and shutting her mouth. ýKatti chali ra yiniharoo?ý My maami came to an unlikely rescue. ýkhana khana aao chado, mahabharat hernu pardaina?ý Then she pleaded to my dad from the kitchen ýdaddy! Khana khayera matrai samachar hernu laý my mom was prescient. Lights came back the very moment. Evening wore on and the times faded quickly ******** ýBabu! Dhilo bachaina aaja?ý My mom drew the curtains exposing me to the bright rays of the sun coming through the glass pane right over me. ýBaira herr ta! Katti ramro deen cha aajaý. She put a cup of tea by my bedside tempting me to wake up. My heart leaped up seeing a clear blue sky and warm sunshine. Outside, the garden was sparkling as the light hit myriads of droplets of water from previous night. The scene was like that of afairytale. And above all, it was Friday. As I got ready for school, my older sister was waiting for me downstairs. Though I despised the idea of walking with her in the mornings, I couldnýt give any justification unless she decided to leave early as her bus usually preceded over mine most of the time. ýBabu! Herr ta. Parijaat ko phool yo barsa katti chado fakrechaý indeed! The area around the tree was filled with incredible fragrance. I picked up one of the juvenile flowers with four bright white spiral petals bound to a dazzling orange pedicel. It looked majestic. Pure and refreshing, just like ýHERý ýla chado hidd! Mero bus chutcha pheriý My sister led the way. I crouched down and picked up a handful of flowers that had fallen to the ground. I looked at them, closed my eyes and took a deep inhale through the nose. It smelled wonderful. It was the smell of home.