The exams were over at the drop of a hat. Gopal did well in his exams too. Time came for their parting in the end. The school organized a farewell party for them on the last night of their schooling. It was a moment of grief and joy, of hopes and dreams, and of reality and confrontation. Girls wore sequinned saris and boys put on their finest suits at the party. They danced tirelessly to the rock n? roll music played blaringly in the conference hall. Some of them just sat down and chatted with the teachers. At length, they would hug and bid each other farewell as a show of parting. In the end before the party was over, Mrs Shankuntala gave a brief speech. She addressed, Dear students, Wish you would all reach higher heights of prosperity in your future. All the students stood up and gave the principal a standing ovation after her speech. This evening, Harka Bahadur gave away a dinner treat at a Chinese restaurant ?Noodle Bowl? near Thamel - the famous tourists? ghetto in Kathmandu. Dining out was once in a blue moon delight for the Thapa family. Tonight, the treat was for their reunion and Gopal?s homecoming. The paintings hung on the walls, the crockery decorated and set, were only an imitation of Chinese arts and crafts for a fine dining restaurant that well-known in Kathmandu. Nothing was Chinese but a graffiti of Chinese scripts smeared on the wall. They ordered a bowl of fried noodle with eggs, shrimps, and vegetables, giant king-size prawns marinated in oyster sauce. A bottle of chardonnay and a plate of dumplings as an entr?e. ?What do you want do now, son? Harka Bahadur asked his son and took a sip of wine. ?I don?t know,? Gopal garbled back with his mouth full of dumpling. ? You can?t even afford a pair of pantaloons with a job in Kathmandu unless you are a bureaucrat.? ?I?ll start a small business on my own after I save some. I want to do something innovative, Dad? Gopal?s mother smiled at his son?s response. Her lips glistened with the greasy fried noodle she slurped in with her unfamiliar hands on chopsticks. ?Business is not as easy as you think it is, son. You need extraordinary entrepreneurial skills while soldiering is good enough a career for us.? Harka Bahadur retorted back sarcastically. A moustachioed customer at the side glanced askance at them on Harka Bahadur?s rising tenor. ?You father and son can discuss this later back home.? Parvati quietly cut in at her husband?s loss of temper. Nobody said anything for a while. Gopal was busy munching his share of fried noodles. The dinner seemed like a wholesome treat for a boy who was just back from hostel. The labyrinth of streets around Thamel looked dead with the mellowness of the falling night, on their way back home, which was only a quarter of an hour walk from the restaurant. Most of the shops had already shut down except for few watering holes and restaurants that catered the likes of tourists, insomniacs and well-to-do residents of the valley. A mob of young khate boys were chatting and chafing their freckled cheeks by the fire they set on a tyre. And, a couple of brindled mongrels danced around the boys as if they all belong to the same family and background, waifs and strays. Next to them was a big yellow hexagonal garbage container that bore a reading,? Keep Kathmandu Municipality Clean?, in Devanagari scripts. ?Whatever we say is for your own good, Gopal. Its time now you make your own decisions.? Parvati said and held her son?s hand. Harka Bahadur was walking on the left side of his wife with his left hand in his pocket. Gopal didn?t say anything but kept moving ahead which followed a dark alley away from the main street. ?If you pass your exams with good results, I?ll send you to America for further studies.? Harka Bahadur said as if he?s consoling his son. ?Alright? Gopal replied and pursed his lips. Parvati took out a bunch of keys from a satchel she was carrying underneath her cashmere shawl, and opened the gate. A small lawn led them to their house?s main door and into the living room. It had a red sofa at the corner and an oblong Tibetan carpet on the middle of the floor. On the anterior wall of the living room, drooped an antler. A wooden closet at another end of the room was decorated with Harka Bahadur?s trophies he had achieved during his service in the army, and a frame of insignia and medals on the top he had received as an accolade. Harka Bahadur sat on the sofa and switched on the TV for the late night news. A smart newsreader on NTV read,? Supporters of a left wing party planted a bomb that killed three people and injured dozens at the parliament?? Gopal was as free as a bird after he left hostelling. There were no early mornings; he could sleep until late, eat whenever he wanted and do whatever he wished. There were no timetables or any examinations. In no time, he realized that Kathmandu was very dull and politicised. The ongoing political upheaval shook the whole nation that resulted in increasing number of work force suffering from drug addiction, alcoholism, poverty and destitution and their offspring as a result, from illiteracy, famine, and homelessness. People in the valley spent their whole day arguing in a heated desultory debate about politics and economy. They would gossip about some blasphemous acts or just about an upcoming Saturday blockbuster in the national broadcaster, NTV. The situation of the country had been deteriorated with constant political conflicts and Maoists? insurgence. Riots, curfews, and bloodbaths made the major headlines in tabloids and newspapers. Politicians lost faith of the whole populace. They just fought against each other for the power obsessed by corruption and greed. These political conflicts and violence degraded Nepal to such an economic depression that almost all the labour force were alienated, outnumbering the exodus of the Tibetans all over the world during the Red army invasion in the 1950s.It didn?t take Gopal long to realize that he?d be leaving somewhere in search of opportunity with this exodus. P.S. No comments or feedback please. I want to concentrate more on my private matters. This is just my short story.