Third Part Normal 0 21 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} It was not my first time in Kathmandu but Kritipur was new to me. Without much hassle, I got a room on rent near Panga-Dobato and filled it with the things; some of which I bought there and some I brought from my home.   Things in a place look new and interesting till the place itself is new, but once the place becomes familiar, with it the things also begin to lose their charm and to draw any more attention. I couldn’t remain untouched by the feeling. It had been already 5 months for me in Kritipur. The regular Jatras really used to enchant me. The typical Newari music produced by the drums, flutes and cymbals, Lakhe dancing with his demonic mask and the scared faces of little children, but as the time passed, they just became a mere stuff for me; giving little attention to sometimes completely ignoring them.   It was summer and the room was heated up by the stove used for cooking. The newspaper pasted on the wall, to prevent the paint from the possible damage by fumes and steam, had been already yellowed. I talked to Bikesh about changing it but I knew it wasn’t going to happen soon. Instead, it suited the wall more and became friendlier to our eyes. It had not been long, only a month that I had known him and living with him. One of my friends in the university knew him better for he was the one to introduce me to him and make him a way to share a room with me.   The early days were really tuff with him. I would personally like to call it weird. He didn’t turn out the way I had expected him to be. He was too religious to be a student of Chemistry. Though mine was English, I could still see a lot of folks of chemistry in the university. The next day of his arrival, it was five in the morning and I was in my bed. My eyes opened with some humming sound. There he was sitting on the carpet with his legs crossed, holding a string of Rudrakshaya in right hand and chanting some Sanskrit script with eyes closed. I was simply shocked.   One day, I arrived at the room with some potatoes and carrots for the evening meal. There in the doorway I was held still with the sight. Bikesh was upside down, practically standing on his head and legs stretched up in the air forming a standing ‘T’. Wow, it was really something to be seen, with potatoes and carrots in your hand.   His books in the bamboo bookcase were worth browsing. Ranging from Chemistry to Astrology and Karl Marx to Kama-sutra, it was hell of a collection. As the time passed I gradually became habituated to his strange behaviour and hobbies. Or better to say it, I began to accept the diversity that is prevalent all over. Different people have different sort of behaviour, it isn’t that I should try to search myself inside others. What if Bikesh’s activities seemed bizarre to me, it was his way of living and for him it was all normal.      Sometimes he would turn absurdly philosophical. But, it never got on my nerves rather I enjoyed his words and his aberrant way of defining and seeing the things. It was not that I didn’t used to think about the things around me but regarding the matter he was far ahead of me.   Most often after evening meal we used to climb upstairs to the roof for smoking. There he used to have a puff and stare the sky for a long time as if he were looking for something, probably some answers. His disparate attempts would sometimes come out in the form of queries which used to be equally bizarre and sophisticated.   “Sometimes I feel that we are living in a delusion.”   “Yeah, me too.”   “What are all these, you know? We come to this world, I mean we get born, and ultimately get into the mess that we have created ourselves. We don’t care about the utmost important things that are around us, we simply neglect it, don’t even try to understand it.”   “Sometimes I also feel the same way, but not as gravely as you do.” Rather I used to put my things lightly.   “Buddha was the one who had the guts to leave all the things behind, everything, that could have come in between him and the ultimate knowledge he was in quest for. I agree, that it’s almost impossible to become another Buddha, but at least we can try to understand this creation.”   Living with Bikesh proved to be better than living alone in Kritipur. Sometimes we used to visit Bhag-Vairab and hang around a couple of hours seeing the misty view of Kathmandu Valley. And sometimes we used to spend the time biting the coal-roasted corn while watching the local cricket tournaments in the university ground.   As I recall, there were only few classes, among the classes I attended, which I would call them as – worth attending. One of them was the 3 hours long lecture on ‘Creative Writing’ by Prof. Abhi Subedi during which he emptied 4 bottles of mineral water. The hall was full with more than 100 students but not all of them lucky enough to get their seat. The day was also significant considering that the wall of our room beside the stove finally got a patch of fresh sheet of newspaper. It not only helped the room to appear cleaner but also provided us with a feeling of change.   The smoking habit would take us to the roof and that night was no different than others. The moonless sky was full of shining stars and imitating as to be their reflection were the distant glimmering lights from the houses in the nearby hills surrounding us. When we were about to leave, Bikesh opened a topic which we never talked about before.   “What do you think about love? I mean, how can you describe love?” He asked looking at me after staring at those distant lights from the hills for a long time.   He was not the first one to ask it to me or he was not the first one who was wondering to know about love. I was the student of literature all those poetries, dramas and fictions, considering them I could have given him its description but the description would be based upon others perception which my own egoistic part wouldn’t let it do so.   “But what about the feelings that I have towards Kritika?” I asked to myself.   I was not sure about it. Whether I could explain my feelings to Bikesh as the answer of his query or not? It was too difficult for me to decide. But for the tradition of love it has always been a two way feeling. I was the only one to feel it or Kritika on the other side was feeling it too, I couldn’t say that. It could have been the both way; she didn’t have any feelings for me or I wasn’t too cautious to read her, to understand her.   Amid these dilemmas, I answered Bikesh, “No, I cannot describe it.”   With one his curious looking faces, he looked at me as if he read my mind, he knew everything I was thinking of and said “Well, then let’s climb down.” To be continued.....                                       Normal 0 21 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} Last edited: 11-Mar-10 11:06 AM

eclectic · Mar 11, 2010 11:05 AM

View User Profile View User Postings View User Videos Send Email to eclectic eclectic, enjoyed it thoroughly sathi. :) Click here to subscribe to eclectic's postings. You will get notification when the users posts in sajha. Loading...';ajaxpage('subscribeto.cfm?userid=1b00ef62-ff81-4ce1-a364-1650dd7bb925','subspan22');">

kHusHii · Mar 11, 2010 1:26 PM

Great Eclectic..your intricate details makes it more interesting to read!! :)

brandy · Mar 11, 2010 6:19 PM

Khushii, Brandy thank you for your lovely comments. Here is the fourth part.

eclectic · Mar 18, 2010 12:05 PM

Normal 0 21 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} Fourth Part   Time passes, and as the moments go away they leave behind certain changes as their mementoes. Though the almost two year time in Kritipur was not just a blink for me but I cannot call it a long saga. But within this time many things happened, some usual and some carrying a deep sensation hard to describe and looming in mind as a question whose answer is long lost with the time itself.   I was busy with my thesis on James Joyce, indeed a great literary figure of his times. My room was filled with small hand books to enormously bulky ones; literatures and biographies of James Joyce. Of course I was alone again. Bikesh had left Kritipur along with the varieties of books he had, to live with his cousin brother in Patan. Thesis was the only thing left for me before I could get my Master’s degree and was standing as a border gate that would mark the end of my journey as a student.   Ritesh was already in Australia for a year and it had not been long only a couple of months that Kritika got married. Then I was in the middle of my final exams. The news was revealed to me in one of my occasional telephone calls to my home from a PCO nearby my room. The moment I heard it, the voice from the speaker of the handset apparently got dimmer and was almost buried inside the talks and laughter that was coming from a tea shop beside the PCO. Perhaps, unknowingly a lot of things had changed for me in those two years which I only could realize later.   Writing the thesis in a good and correct format, getting it typed and finally submitting it nearly took me a month and made my way clear back to Biratnagar after 8 months interval. Nothing much had changed in Biratnagar during the time. The houses and the shops along the road were same standing in their own position, some of the rickshaw pullers getting themselves a short nap on their rickshaw avoiding their work in the midday hot sun and in the evening the as usual crowded Gudri Bazaar, the local vegetable market. But something had changed in most of the houses of Biratnagar, the cable-TV had slipped in, making the use of the antenna obsolete and as a structural part of the roof only.   The more than 20 television channels wouldn’t do any favour to me as I needed some company to talk to, to play with probably some cricket or cards and to hang around but I could do nothing about it, I was there feeling all alone and by myself. The day was mundane with hot air blowing and causing me to yawn a lot. Despite the heat, to cut the monotony I decided to go up to the roof.   The antenna was curving downwards from the middle, slowly forming an inverted ‘V’. Most of its elements were either bent or fallen off. It had just become useless remains of aluminum pieces that was some how keeping itself attached at the top of the iron pipe. I couldn’t brag about its length or regarding its performance anymore with others. But now, as it was old it needed some rest in peace or otherwise there was always a chance of it falling anytime and causing injuries to anyone passing under it.   The rusted bolts were difficult to open but after soaking them with a bit of kerosene, I finally conquered. I placed the antenna horizontally on one of the corners of the roof.   “Prabhat, getting rid of old things.” I heard a voice.   It was Kritika, on her roof. She had changed or her attire made her to look different, I couldn’t decide. The blue sari she was wearing was reflecting most of the light from her body. The sound that her matching blue glass-bangles made as she put down the steel pot she was carrying came to my ears mixed with the blowing hot air.   “Yes.” I said giving her a smile.   Before I could say her something, she asked, “When did you come?”   “It’s been five days.” I replied.   “We just arrived an hour ago. Five hours in bus, I am quite exhausted.”   The ‘we’ sounded a bit strange and I felt a heavy nasty blow somewhere inside my head.   “So, how’s your life going on?” I asked.   “It’s good.” She simply replied.   “Did you finish up your Masters?”   “Yes, waiting for results.” I said.   “What next?” She asked again.   “Probably start teaching in some college in Kathmandu.”   She just nodded her head and began to spread the pieces of raw mango that she had in the steel pot onto a big nanglo to dry up.   “Mango pickle.” I said.   “Yes, I love it.”   “But, I don’t.” I lied to her, expecting that she would catch me and inquire me for my lie. But she didn’t.   “Hey Kritika, what do you think going for a movie tomorrow?” I pranked.   “I am married now.” She said.   “You can bring your husband too, if you want.” I looked at her and said.   She said nothing just kept on smiling. After she finished up with the mangoes, she stood up and before leaving she said, “Why don’t you come here, you two will get to know each other.”   “And eat some mango pickle too, I know you like it.” She added.   “I will definitely.” I said and kept on looking at her as she left the roof.   THE END   NB: This story is dedicated to all my nearest and dearest friends whose life and the moments I spent with them inspired me to write this story and also to all of my friends here in Sajha who helped making Kritika so alive.   Thank you all.                           Last edited: 18-Mar-10 12:06 PM

eclectic · Mar 18, 2010 12:06 PM

awww....sweet story ,sweetly told :) loved it !

PIGGY · Mar 18, 2010 12:15 PM

Crafty writin..........Feels like every common guys story.........!!!! I can feel prabhat within me....!!! Hope to see more from u ....!!!

fucheketo · Mar 18, 2010 12:17 PM

Thanks Piggy, Fucheketo. I will come soon with another one.

eclectic · Mar 19, 2010 6:24 PM

Eclectic,Good piece. I find myself in lots of places.....I realized I 'followed' some of your paths .... Kirtipur (I was in Naya Bazar)... BaghBhairab...Jatras..English Literature... and so many other strings.. Keep it up Eclectic. Guchcha Chor

guchcha chor · Mar 19, 2010 7:37 PM

Hey eclectic, hats off to you man, very nice combitation of  words. I was also a english litreature major for a while and can smell the words. You've used every single words so nicely that it does touch the heart of every readers and gets their attention. Must say you did a great job. I'll be eagerly waiting for another story soon. Thank you sir. bd.  

boulevard dreams · Mar 21, 2010 5:55 PM

simple and nice. had good time reading it.

abc_n_xyz · Mar 22, 2010 10:49 AM

A hearty thanks to Guchcha chor, Boulevard dreams and abc_n_xyz with a promise to be back soon with another story.

eclectic · Mar 24, 2010 12:36 PM

A CLEAR PROJECTION OF AN OUTSIDER ( STUDENT) IN THE VALLEY...                    BRO.........U SURE CAN WRITE... LOVED IT.... HOPE TO READ MORE FROM YOU.. KUDOS

alche · Jul 29, 2010 8:45 PM

Thanks alche bro, I am trying hard to make an imminent appearance in Sajha with something new. 

eclectic · Aug 6, 2010 5:12 AM

As always Great. 

amitraja · Aug 18, 2010 3:51 PM

Well, thanks Amitraja. But, these days I have been too busy and I should admit I have been missing Sajha and all the Sajha Bashis.

eclectic · Sep 14, 2010 10:14 PM

Hi Electic, Nice Story.. I have read this a way long back. I saw this thread once again, and was trying convey my view on your story But I would say, I was little disappointed by the how story ends or so should I say i was disappointed by the flow of the story. What i noticed that at the beginning you describe each small event very carefully. Till third part, things are so carefully described that you can feel that you were also physically present on the scene. At that time I thought you are trying to bring so many incident and sub-incident in the story. But all of expectations fell flat, as u just finished that story in next episode, it seems like that you are in some haste or so I am not English Major or Nepali Major. My critique is skill is not so good, but hope that you will understand what i am trying to convey. Plz take it as constructive criticism.

khoikkhoik · Sep 16, 2010 11:42 AM

Thanks khoikkhoi for your comment.For me all the comments are constructive. so you need not worry about it. Rather, I am delighted to read your criticism and to know the loop holes in my story from your perspective. Yes, you are very true that the ending does seem to be in a little bit haste but I have tried to present the story in more realistic way than fictitious. So, this may have led to an unexpected ending or not a happy ending overall. But, anyways its for sure that your words will definitely have an effect on me and I assure that you can observe the changes in my coming stories. Thank you again and I expect to hear from you in the coming days too. eclectic.

eclectic · Sep 23, 2010 12:31 AM