V.Java Blues ************* I don't know why we'd decided to meet in Himalayan Java of all the places. As soon as I entered the ostentious lounge, it reminded me of lounge of W hotel in Manhattan except for the waiters. It was apparent that most of the Nepalese here had come from abroad. Confused by the mileau, I moved to the empty table at the end of the corridor and watched another downpour of monsoon. A group of middle aged men dressed in suits moved to a couch next to mine and ordered coffee that cost more than 100 rupees. With smoke and coffee to pump their adrenaline back, they started talking rowdily on how they could eliminate poverty of Nepal. What an irony! Below in the street, I was arrested by the handicapped beggar crawling between people begging for a rupee or two. Who says Kathmandu is not Nepal. or else where would you see such stark difference between the rich and the poor? Where else would you see people living in slum around the most educated people in sinamangal not allowed to touch the water or buy anything from the shops around? Where else would you see the politics affecting only the politicians? Where else would you see a big shiny board outside the royal palace promising to preserve human rights and a block down soldiers attacking a peace rally? Where else would you see a black listed leader leading the anti corruption campaign? This my friend, is the only Nepal I have known for a long long time. I was totally offguard when she approached me. She looked like an angel with the pearl necklace, yellow shirt and her big almond shaped eyes bordered by dark gajal. She smiled giving way to two dazzling dimples like that of Preity Zinta. She introduced me to her friends and they all raised their eyebrows when I introduced myself in NEPALI. I sat down nervous in the couch sipping the semi warm coffee. One of them offered me a ciggie and there--their eyebrows went up again when I told them that I didn't smoke. Why wouldn't they? I looked around and found the ultimate truth that I was the most uncool person sitting in the lounge without a ciggie in my hand. She asked me if I would like to come and see the architecture exhibition the following Thursday. I agreed, but right then, I wanted to get the hell out of there, and for some reason, out of KTM as well for a change. My prayers were answered the very next day when a friend of mine and his interesting bunch of MBBS friends decided to spend a night at the outskirts of KTM in Tokha, 500 m above Kathmandu. We sat down in the veranda of this house on top of a cliff that overlooked the entire kathmandu valley. What a sight it was to behold. Covered up in thin mist and dazzling sunshine, Kathmandu looked so nice, compact, verdant and peaceful. Who'd have thought it was going through such a ferocious spitfire. With prawn, fish, meat, and even "bhootan" and of course local tharra, our talks took twists and turns from philosophy to boka talks. Medical students for some reason i have noticed in Nepal are almost all chain smokers. As the ciggie came around once more, I denied once again. They began to laugh, "yo ciggie hoina, yo arkai k" I was perplexed. The smoke indeed smelled sweeter. Reading my mind, one of the guys went inside and brought back a black bag full of red grass. "yaha tala gaun ma lukyaera bechdo raicha .....US ma yettiko kati parcha?" , "maybe 2000 dollars" "ho ra? bekkar ma MBBS padeko!" he began to wonder. We stayed late into the night seeing Kathmandu blazed in lights and then slowly disappearing in the darkness, as we listened to old numbers by pink floyd, fatte man singh, and deepak kharel. IT was one of those surreal nights I had spent in Nepal. to be contd....