My family is related to Koirala....yes....you guessed it right, the same Koiralas. They were from my dad's side of the family. We would often visit their mansion in Biratnagar and spend weekends in their farm house which did not actually had a house precisely, but had herds of cattle and heaps of hays. Since families of four brothers resided in a single house and had one more brother as their neighbor, their family was colossal. There were so many kids, even their parents had trouble tracking them when needed. Manisha was the tallest among them all, prettiest of course, had an air of superciliousness and threw tantrums even then. The men in the family chew pan and spoke in accented Nepalese while women played cards and drank tea listening to either Mehdi Hassan or Talat Mahmood. They talked about Humayun and Mao and Nehru and Churchill and Nixon and some Bihari leaders I had never heard of. It was then I saw BP, immediately after his arrival from United States, I was four then, well?probably five. He was a tall figure with lively eyes, beaming face, and walked with a certain gait that made everybody look upon him with bountiful deference. There was something sensational about that old man I would never forget. He carried an aura of confidence and power with him every time he talked to others. He had once visited our house once, in fact twice, once in Biratnagar and the other in Jawalakhel. He was best of friends with my grandfather and they talked for hours sipping coffee and smoking cigarette. It was during late seventies and our very own Girija babu was nowhere in picture. I remember seeing him once or twice in his raggedy old Mahindra & Mahindra SUV, which, when ignited, shook half the city of Biratnagar. Seriously speaking....the tremor used to be so violent that I was pretty sure it must've made an infant cry somewhere and kinda related Girija babu to infamous Gabbar Singh, except the latter had a lot of hairs. My dad was a government official and was friends with most of the other officials.One fine morning our zonal commissioner visited us with a military colonel and talked to dad for almost an hour. He left smiling at me patting my cheeks. I had no idea what the conversation was all about, but since that very moment we were banished to go to Koirala niwas. My mom, a high school teacher, who shared gossips with Koirala females kept some distance too. I did not really miss much not going to their house, but I sometimes missed playing chor- police with Koirala kids. That used to be our favorite game where I always ended up being a chor. I missed Manisha too, although she never spoke to me. She was so fair.... I hated myself. She was always like a full moon (who would later be a star), visible for a night and gone the next. She used to go to school either in Banaras or Delhi, all places in India seemed same to me. Though I never went to Koirala Niwas again, I used to meet their kids once in a while. Some were very close to me. During those days, Ms Saileja Acharya and Nona koirala used to bore everyone in the town square with their harangues. My grandfather, despite dad's warning, furtively went to those gatherings and took me along with him. My mom once told me that Saileja was a great leader, because she had waved her pitch black stole to King Mahendra. My little head could not figure out the relationship between a black shawl and leadership, but I was always at awe of being a leader....public speaking always fascinated me. I thought I would put on some black clothes, paint myself black, even call myself Kabubo Mawangi from Zanjibar and present myself to King Mahendra if that helped being a leader. I always wondered why King Mahendra was enthralled by black color. Enter; year 1992, Manisha became an actress and Girija babu a prime-minister. Two people I had known had become famous and I, John_Galt felt miserable being so ordinary. My hopes were high again when Manisha was dating Nana Patekar. If I were not as famous as Nana, I was at least a million times better-looking. My crush over Manisha had always smothered for years. I probably wanted to marry her (yeah right!!!)defying Gregor Mendel?s theory and overlooking the fact that she was a relative. I reunited with Koiralas again in 2000's. I ran errands for Sujata Koirala when free from my regular work schedule. Uttering her name might be blasphemous here, but I have gathered enough courage to tell you guys that I actually worked for her?without being paid of course. An honest person that I am.....I never misused my contacts, and I still wonder why I had to work for her? There are a few incidents in my life where I have never understood myself and working for Sujata Koirala is one of them. The allegories media portrays about Koiralas is not all true, but then it is not yellow journalism either, I have seen some very amiable and honest people in the family and well as some arrogant and uncouth jerks.It's now time I took a break (and a heehahahaha) and leave it to you guys to figure out who is what.