Prologue LAX, 10:20 pm “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin.……. Prasanna checked his phone for the last time before the eight hour flight to Bangkok. A couple generic listserv emails, a few facebook notifications from his pals, and ten or so texts from his relatives in LA wishing him a safe trip. Coddle me more, will you?, he muttered, as he flipped through his GQ magazine and waited for his first trip to home in two years. Prakash sat six seats behind him, perusing the pages of American Dervish, a book that his religion professor had recommended. Although Nepali public schools had failed him terribly in deciphering the testing vocabulary Ayad Akhtar used, his diligence and craving towards learning was laudable. He struggled to turn off his Nokia with a ballpoint pen, a daily chore since he had dropped the phone last year and didn’t have funds for an upgrade. Twenty three hours, a couple disgusting McDonalds sandwiches, and three chick-flicks later, Prakash and Prasanna landed in TIA, Nepal. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ Prasanna was greeted by a throng of relatives in the airport terminal. It was a scene right out of a Sooraj Bajratya movie, if you will – uncles with garlands, aunties wearing gold that probably weighed as much as them, and cousins Prasanna had never seen before. After exchanging the usual “darshans”, and “babu ta kasto khailagdo bhaecha” conversations, Prasanna finally made it to the back of his family Jeep. ________________________________________________________    “हैन ए बाबु, कत्ति तेइ कम्प्युटर मा झुन्डेर बस्छ्स, कैले काइ त एस्सो बसेर गफ गर न ” Prasanna knew exactly what was coming next, and as much as would have loved to avoid the conversation, he indolently sat on the couch right next to his mom.  “त्यो सुदर्शन हेर त, त्यो जन्मिदा तँ २ वर्षा को थिस, तेस्ले नि पोहोर अषार मा बिहा गरेछ.” Yeah mom, I wish I was into girls with unibrows, good for Sudarshan! “राकेश पनि तँ भन्दा ४ महिना ले जेठो त हो नि, तेस्ले नि छोरो च्यापेको फोटो फेसबुक मा राखिसक्यो. हैन बाबु, बिहे भनेको उमेर छदै गर्नपर्छ, हाम्रो पनि नाति नातिना खेलाउने इछ्या छ" Ok first, why do I have to find a girl to pop out a baby so that you can fulfill your maternal desires? Second, and more importantly, why do you even have a facebook? Prasanna thought hard, but couldn’t come up with a reply that would strike the right balance between indifference and courtesy. “ए बाबा, आफ्नो दिदि को नाति ले आगुम एस. एल. सी. दिने भैसक्यो, आफ्नो छोरो भने बिहा को कुरो गर्यो कि ठुस्किन्छ बा ” His mom proceeded to fold his laundry as her tone shifted from despondent to a tad affronting. “हैन माँ, पढाई सकुम न पहिले, अहिले पढ़िरको बेला मा बिहा गरेर नि कहाँ राख्ने मैले?” “पढाई किन सक्नु पर्यो तलाई? बुवा को यत्रो सम्पति छ, तेरै त हो नि बाबु, तेरो ३ पुस्ता लाइ खान लाउन पुग्ने सम्पति छ, अहिले बिहे गर, पढाई भनेको गर्दै गर्दा हुन्छ ” It escaped Prasanna how his father had been able to amass such huge quantities of wealth in such a short period of time. Well, it wasn’t that he was unaware of the fact that unethical ways contributed to their new piece of land in Baneshwor, but it bemused him that one could accumulate such large sums within three years of being in the government. “हैन कि खैरेनी संग लब सब गर्याछ्स कि क्या हो, जैले पनि बिहा को कुरा गर्यो कि तिमुर्किन्छ त. खैरेनी केटि हरु एकदम इन्दिविजुअल हुन्छन बाबु, भाषा, संस्कार केई पनि मिल्दैन, खैरेनी चै बिहा नगर है. त्यो संदेश मामा लाइ हेर त, काली केटि ले छोरो थमाएर पोइला गैदिछे, तेस्तो भो भने हाम्ले घर छिमेक मा कसरि मुख देखाउनु भन त ?” Why doesn’t that surprise me? Sandesh mama had fallen in love with Natasha, an African-American lady during his “work-trip” to Ocean City. They got hitched his senior year, had a child a year later, and an year after, Natasha left him with a son for some white guy. Now he was stuck with a 10 year old in Ocean City without a college degree. Life doesn’t get better than that! “हैन माँ, तेस्तो केहि पनि छैन, म अब पढाई सकेर येताई फर्किने विचार गर्दैछु, आफ्नै बिजनेस गर्ने सोच छ, अर्को २ बर्ष मा बिहा गरुला नि ” Prasanna was unsure whether the sighs that followed were a result of frustration or straight up fury. “का फर्किने कुरा गर्छस, बरु मिल्यो भने यहाँ को सम्पत्ति सबै बेचेर तेरो बुवा र मा पनि उतै आउने सोच्दै छौ. बिष्णु मामा ले सान फ्रान्सिस्को मा कुन्नि के समिति खोलेका छन् रे, भिसा पाउन नि गाह्रो हुन्न रे. उनले नि एकदम प्रगति गरे नि, ४ ओटा फिलान्थ्रोपी संस्था खोलेर बसेका छन्. ” After having had this exact same conversation a gazillion times, Prasanna knew that it was the time for him to just listen. Anything he said was certain to go against him. “नेपाल फर्केर नि के गर्छस, देखिहलिस, यहाँ यस्तै हो, येइ लोद्द्सेदिंग, येइ बन्द. बस्न गार्हो छ यहाँ, तलाई के थाहा? बिजिनेस गरे नि उइ हो, बत्ति छैन, पानि छैन, जैले नेपाल बन्द, चक्का जाम भन्याछ, एकदम अन्डरदिवेलोप छ देश बाबु, अमेरिका नै हो बस्ने त" ___________________________________________________________________________________________ Rolling that four year old suitcase from the terminal all the way down to the airport gates was grueling, but finding a seat in that last bus to New Bus Park beat the former errand by a long shot. An hour later, Prakash arrived at “Hotel Samjhana” , a lodge that chiefly relied on out-of-valley travelers like Prakash for business. Dhan dai, the owner, played “Saal ko Paat chachari” in his brand new Konka stereo as Prakash hit the sack, consumed by exultant thoughts of seeing his family after three years. Amidst three devotees on their way to Manakamana, Prakash ferreted out a seat on top of the engine, albeit there was only room for half his rear in that scorching stall. A three-hour ride to Ambu Khaireni involved bearing the stench (probably from the roosters the Manakamana–goers were holding), but the thought of seeing his little sister made even that smell seem like nothing. _____________________________________________________ “म त शनिबार आउछ्स भनेर मासु किनेकी थे, तेरी बैनी ले सक्काइ हाली नि “, there was a seeming disappointment in Prakash’s mom’s voice. “हैन आमा, के लाइ चाहियो मासु, यो मिठै छ नि ”, he responded as he devoured the entire thaal of alu-bhaat-masyaura in less than five minutes. If the home cooked meal wasn’t good enough to satiate his palette, the glassful of fresh mohi right after sure did the job. “नासपाती काटदिन्छु, खा है बाबु? ”, Prakash’s mom was just about done with the dishes, but she wanted to feed him all she could while he was around. Prakash settled down in the worn-out gundri as Pratima rested her head in her bother’s lap. Their family had been devoid of a patriarchal figure for years, and Prakash’s arrival delighted Pratima and his mom greatly. Govinda sir (as he was popularly known in the village) was murdered seven years ago by the maoists for his alleged affiliation to another political party. Any discussion of that incident was frowned upon in the house, firstly because it was a touchy episode, and secondly for the reason that Pratima was too young to comprehend anything that had happened. All she knew was that her dad had died a sudden death, and, as everyone else in the village vindicated, he was one great man.   “यसपाली नि यो तरकारी ले खासै आम्दानि भएन बाबु, दिन रात जोतिन्छु मात्रै, कमाइ केई नि हुन्न ”, his mom sat down on a pirka across the room. “तेरो बुवा को पेन्सन ले धानिएका छम अहिले सम्म, त्यो नि कहिले कहिँ त सार्है गार्हो हुन्छ. धन्न प्रतिमा ले अस्ति किलास टपी, यो बर्ष निशुल्क पढाई दिने भा क छन्. ए नानि, जा जा दाइ लाइ तेरो प्रमाण पत्र देखाइदे ” Pratima grabbed a muda from under the bed and climbed on it to grab the certificate of excellence she was awarded three months earlier. “राम्रो छ ”, Prakash said, with a dejected tenor. “मैले सक्दो गरेकै छु आमा, उता फीस पनि बुझाउनै पर्यो, फेरी धेरै काम गर्यो भने पढाई बिग्रेला भन्ने डर ” “खै तेरो पढाई नि के हो के हो बाबु, ६ बर्ष भैसक्यो, डिग्री गर्नी नि कैले हो कैले, सन्तोष काका संग लेको ऋण नि अझै ब्याज पकाउदै छ. म एउटी बुढी ले कति मात्र काम गर्नी हेर. फेरी बुढो जिउ, हिउद लाग्यो कि ढाड तेइ हो हेर, अस्ति त २ हप्ता थलै परे नि, बैनी नि इस्कुल जान पाइन, मै बुडी को स्याहार गर्न लाइ ” Prakash caressed Pratima’s hair as he glanced at his mom. Although she was only in her early forties, she looked twenty years older. “बरु फर्की भो बा, त्यो पैसा को मुख हेरेर के गर्नु. तँ यहाँ भए मलाई नि शान्ति हुन्थ्यो. येइ आइजा, बिनोद मामा ले बैंक मा काम लाइदिञ्छु भनेका छन्, मलाई त सार्है गार्हो भो बाबु" “हैन आमा, यत्रो दुख गरेर गैय्यो, पढाई त सक्ने पर्यो नि. पख्नुस अब, १-२ बर्ष मा मेरो नि अलि अलि कमाइ होला, तपाइँ लै पुग्ने गरि मै कमाउछु नि” “खै बा, के हो के हो, म त मर्ने बेला मा तेरो मुख नि नदेखी मर्छु कि जस्तो लाग्छ कैले काइ त ” ______________________________________________________________________________________________ Epilogue Tudikhel, 10:32 am Prakash stood by the bus stop as vehicles sped by, spewing out dark clouds of smoke. Tudikhel looked majestic that day (well, as majestic as it can look, which isn’t saying a lot). Thousands of comrades stood on the grounds as some Maoist leaders delivered rousing speeches. Four large speakers were set up around the venue, enabling the elocution to be audible to people as far as Jamal. “बक्तब्यका क्रममा अब म पूर्व सभासद प्रथम राज प्रधान लाइ मंचमा आमन्त्रण गर्न चाहन्छु ”, the MC announced in an apical tone. Prasanna’s dad approached the podium – his hands making an emblematic “laal salaam” gesture. “ Comrades, I think of the long struggle that I and my party waged with single mindedness for the liberation of the common man from the clutches of the age-old suppression, deprivation, marginalization and outright negligence of the then existing polity. My fellow countrymen and women, toiling in the mountains and valleys, working day and night in the low lands and the urban areas and yet unable to ensure even the simple necessities of life for his or her family had a hope and expectation that one day they would lead a decent life with equal rights and opportunities and be recognized as respectful citizens of the country. We are at this significant turning point in the political history of Nepal.” Prakash felt a lump in his throat. He grabbed a handkerchief to wipe away his tears that hadn’t formed yet. “Dai, airport samma…………….” _____________________________________________________________________________________________ It's much easier to wear a Chairman Mao button and shake your fists in the air and all that, then to actually read the Communist manifesto and things like that and actually become involved in politics. - Lester Bangs. अस्तु Writer's note: The speech in the prologue is an excerpt from Prachanda's speech at the UN Convention - I found it fitting. Thanks for reading!     Last edited: 11-Mar-13 11:40 AM