Memory Lane: On the Turning Away! ******************************** The situation was grave. Contrary to the first day when they had come to pick me at the airport, they remained solemn in the Cab. I couldn’t associate my siblings without their characteristic laughter that stretched for a long period of time. Once, when I had danced in Tihar unable to hold my exuberance, it became their antidote to gloomy days for half a decade …. Within fifteen minutes, I checked in my baggage. The airport was almost empty. We walked hesitantly through these empty spaces—around and within us. Without even asking me, my sister ordered my favorite croissant with egg cheese and sausage. “security check lamo hola, pheri gastric badcha tero!” This was the first sentence she had spoken all morning. We sank in the chairs facing each other. I felt better. “aba timi haroo ni US ghumna aaija ni ta, ek dui barsa ma! I proposed dubiously. Eye contacts are not appropriate at all times. Tears trickled down their face instantly. I tried to cheer them up “US tyasto boring pani chaina ni.” “Babu! Ta aba ja! Dhilo huncha pheri!” My other sister broke out! “Security check point samma aaija na ta..” ……… ***************** We lay lazily in the rug supposedly doing our astronomical dashain homework, while my older sister sat in the bed murmuring her book. Deep inside, we were all dreaming about the fireworks of Tihar. Furthermore, it was one of those strange holidays for me. This was the second time I had known my two siblings do “katti” with each other. Just like the previous time, they had again chosen the “chor aunla” which meant that they wouldn’t talk to each other for another eternity. Just then my sister reminded me of the pack of white rabbit maami had got for us the previous day. Chocolates were unfathomable addiction at the time. I volunteered to get it cause I knew exactly where maami put it. I opened the podrej daraj whose handle squealed annoyingly exposing its inner rust. Then I unlocked the mini drawer inside the wardrobe. Taking out two of our favourite candies, my eyes ran through the neat but depleted piles of 5, 10 and 20 rupee bills on the side. It had been a long Dashain for our parents. A sporadic guilt passed through me. My heart raced and my hands shook, but I couldn’t do it even at that innocent age. As much pampered as I was as the only son, I vaguely understood the middleclass frustration of parents rearing four children in KTM. We munched at them greedily but it only triggered more craving. This time my younger sister volunteered to get them. My older sister sitting in the bed across from us was watching all this very vigilantly. As soon as we had finished our second helping, my older sister motioned me to go out of the room with her eyes. Over the years, we’d become experts of eye language. “Taile dekhis?” she whispered in my ears in the corridor. “K?” I demanded. “tyasle 10 rupiya daraj bata nikali!” I was slightly taken aback. “hoina hola” I tried to defend “Napattaye, tyasko bag ma check garr!” My heart grew heavy and all my enthusiasm about Tihar vanished. That night while my sister was watching TV, I quietly slid in their room and opened the front pocket of her bag and peered in the semi hazy light of the room. My heart thumped loudly in anguish seeing the crispy end of a brownish 10 rupee note… *********** The news had broken out, and it was official. We had our usual crisis meeting in the kitchen with Maami. Dad was usually not summoned for such meetings for obvious reasons. “Maile hoina maami, maile hoina!” I could hear the cry of my younger sister pleading to maami. Failing to make the case, she stamped out of the back door sobbing. I hated my older sister. Why did she have to tell maami? She stood there by the door with an evil smile. Maami, busy cooking, slowly motioned to me. “babu! Baini ko bani kasari saparne? Ja fakayera bhitra le. taile bhanyo bhane manche ni. Daddy le thaha paunu bhayo bhane marnu huncha!” I nodded my head and followed out the back door in our “baari”. My sister lay on top of the pile of gravels in the middle of our yard. She sulked there crying in infrequent tone. It felt uneasy to ask anything. She rubbed off her tears seeing me. She looked into my eyes and took the nearest gravel she could find and hit it on her head. I got a little surprised “makuri! K gari ra”? She would have none of me. After some time she told me slowly. “chucho chucho dhunga khoji rako! Afno tauko ma hanera marchu” I almost broke into a laughter but I held firm. “dhunga le hanera afai marne?” I bantered her “aaaan” she said. Suddenly, she picked a little too pointed a stone and hit it on her head that she frowned at me exposing her pain. “sanchi nai dukhdo raicha!” we both broke into a laughter. contd.. ******************