III. Winds of Change *********************** Despite some whacky and ridiculous ads, the programs in tv have raised their standards. Thanx to Ramdev -- people have finally got over the con artistry of Sai Baba and are at least very optimistic about Yoga, exercise and healthy eating that RamDev preaches in unlikely channel of "Astha". One of other big reliefs is that very few people have succumbed to hip hop and rap, though I must confess the music videos are not that bad. On the other hand, lok geet and dohori have been revived once more through different channels of NTV. The fascination to dohori and lok geet that my 1and 1/2 year old nephew showed jumping up and down and trying his best to imitate the moves in TV was quite titillating. There's still hope for the next generation. One fine afternoon, I got a call from a friend whom I hadn't seen in eight years. He introduced himself as a junior officer in Himalayan Bank which was so lucrative that he was able to afford a car in less than two years. Sitting in one of the most happening cafes in Thamel, Jatra, we recollected our funfilled days and updated ourselves. I was extremely proud of him, his achievements, motivation and optimism, for he wasn't like many who winced and complained all the time that they couldn't do anything in Nepal and didn't get a chance to study abroad. (like myself few years ago).Suddenly out of the blues, I put forth the query about political climate which I had been avoiding ever since I got here. He smiled wryly and said "I know what you folks in US do. Go to Nepalnews, kantipur, democracy org, cybernepal etc. and you think you know everything about Nepal. At least since february 1, there hasn't been a bomb blast in the city" I wanted to ask him what bout rest of the country, but I didn't for I didn't want to taint his success story in any way. Just before we parted, he told me he'd also been teaching BBS first year part time and wondered if I could come in as a guest lecturer and tell his enthusiastic students about US. I felt honored. he quipped again " ..no no, not to encourage them to go to US, just the reality" That evening I found myself with three other friends, studying in US , in Cafe Jatra again. One of those friends was supposed to have a jam up with a local band, but it rained heavily and was cancelled. As the place picked up pace with all the professionals of Kathmandu gathered for a friday evening mirth, we felt out of place. Even the waiters wondered if we wanted to move to a corner. We decided to get out from there and go to our old nostalgic hangout place in gairidhara, the one and only NAAN SEKUWA CENTER. Seeing me hesitate on a plate of Sekwa, my friend made a satire. "tyo Jatra ko plate chai mineral water le dhoko huncha?". All in all, it was all good because my volatile stomach was safe and sound the next day craving for more momo, sekwa, and luscious mangoes. One cosy, rainy evening, I sat beside my dad both holding a glass of black label and sliding through memory lanes, going through our family albums. Its amazing the myriad people that had been part of our life had vanished into thin air. It also makes me uneasy to think that I might never ever see them again in this lifetime. Somehow, I want to be a child once more and meet them all over again. My dad cut my series of thoughts, "ani keta, tero chai GF chaina ta?" I told him about the three criteria I was looking for and we both laughed to the fullest. I would have liked to carry on with that conversation, but Wimbledon Finals was on which we both were big fans of and we both rooted for Federer. And Federer didn't let us down. to be contd...(if internet complies )