इटालीकी मेरी मेडि

हिजोआज केही लेख्न्न मन लाग्दैन । विषयवस्तुको प्रचुरताले हो अथवा दिनदिनै मर्दै गएको संवेदनाले हो, केही पत्तो लगाउन सकेको छैन । मेरो लेखनी थाकेको हो कि - त्यसो पनि हुन सक्छ । यहां हुन नसक्ने, हुन नहुने जे पनि हुने समय बितिरहेका बेला जे पनि हुन सक्छ । प्रसङ्ग यस बेला एउटा कथा लेख्न्नेहो ।

हाइ मेडि
हाइ जनक

सामान्न्य तया हाम्रो सम्वादको सुरुवात् यहि बाट हुन्छ
कस्तो छ तिमिलाइ?
मलाइ ठिकै छ, अनि तिमिलाइ?
म पनि ठिक् छु, एकदम् ठिक,मुस्कुराउछिन् उनि।
खाना खायो जनक्?

छैन, आनि तिमिले?

मैले पनि खाएको छैन, पकाउने तयारिमा छु जनक।
के छ विसेश परिकार मेडि आज ?
चिकन करि र सलाद बनाउने बिचार छ आज।

वाऊ! चिकन करि? आइ लाइक चिकन करि भेरिमच। यु डोन्ट कीप फर मि मेडि?

ह्वाइ नट जनक, आइ विल कीप् फर यु । कम टू मि भेरि सून ओ के? हास्न थाल्छिन उनि ।

धन्यवाद मेडि, यति भनेकोमा।ठान्नू तिमिले बनाएको चिकन करि खाइ सके मैले। इट्स भेरि टेस्टि मेडि ।
जनक, म भगवान सङ्ग प्रार्थना गर्छु, कि मैले बनाएको चिकन करि साच्चै खुवाउने अबसर मिलोस मलाइ । अलि गम्भीर हुन्छिन उनि ।
फेसबूक बाट टुसाएको हाम्रो मित्रता याहू च्याटमा आएर झाङ्गीन्छ जब, लाग्न थाल्छ हामी बिचको सम्बन्ध कुनै नौलो नभएर पुरानो हो । धेरै पुरानो र प्रगाढ नाता छ हामी बिचमा। याहू च्याटमा प्रबेश हुन्छौ जब हामी, पत्तै हुदैन हामिलाइ हाम्रो घन्टौ घन्टा बितेको………।
इटालीको मिलान शहर स्थित आफ्नो  घर बाट पाच घन्टाको ट्रेन यात्रा तय गर्नु पर्छ रे उनिलाइ आफ्नो कार्य क्षेत्र माउन्टेन सम्म पुग्नको लागि। साताको  दुइ दिन मिलान स्थित आफ्नो घरमा जाने र बाकि  दिनहरु कार्य क्षेत्र माउन्टेनमा बिताउछिन ऊनि । श्रीमान र  दुइओटा सन्तानकी कुशल धनी मेडीको सानो, सुखी र सुन्दर परिवार छ। आफ्नै सुन्दर सन्सार छ उनको।

खेलहरु मध्य जेम्नास्टिक् औधि मन  पराउने मेडि, बिहानको सारिरिक ब्यायम बाट  सुरु गर्छिन आफ्नो दिनचर्या । ब्यायम, स्नान, ब्रेकफास्ट अनि इन्टरनेट मेरो पहिलो प्राथमिकताका बिषयहरु हुन् उनि भन्दछिन । म कस्तो ब्यायम गर्छु हेर्ने हो जनक? भारत्तोलनका केहि सामग्री हातमा लिदै वेब क्याम अगाडि प्रस्तुत हुन्छिन उनि । उसो त स्विमिङ पनि मन पर्छ रे उनिलाइ । तेसैले सातामा एक पटक स्वीमिङका लागि जाने गर्छिन छोरिलाइ साथमा लिएर मेडि ।

४९ बर्ष पुरा भैसकेको र आउदो मे महिनामा पचासौ जन्म दिन मनाउन आफ्नो जन्म घर फिलिपिन्स जाने मनस्थितिमा छिन् मेडी। सधैभरी कति बस्नु अर्काको ठाउमा, जन्मदिनकै बाहानामा भए पनि कमसेकम आफ्नो देसमा  जान त पाइन्छ, उनि हास्दै भन्छिन।
खुला बिचारधाराकी चैन मेडी। प्रेम र जिबन होस वा सेक्स, खुलेर कुरो गर्छिन  उनि। प्रेम जिबनको अभिन्न अङ्ग हो भने सेक्स स्वादिस्ट भोजन हो। सन्तुलित  आहार हो सेक्स। सेक्स सहमतिमा हुनुपर्दछ, अन्यथा यो अपराध हो। सेक्सको दुरुपयोग हुनुहुदैन । उनको ठम्याइ छ ।
सम्बादको क्रममा आटुट् मुस्कान र हासो देख्न पाइन्छ मेडीको मुहारमा। घरि घरि मुख बिगार्दै जोक्स (जिस्कने) पनि गर्छिन उनि। र भन्छिन जनक स्माइल वान्स प्लिज……। यू अलवेज लूक्स् सिरियस। तर किन?
सरि मेडी, तिम्रो प्रस्नको जबाफ दिन सकेन मैले। हाम्रो बिचमा पनि धेरै प्रकारका कुरोहरु भए सम्बाद्को क्रममा। मेरो कतिपय कुरो चित्त नबुझेको पनि हुन सक्छ तिमिलाइ। तर कहिले पनि रिसायको पाएन मैले तिमिलाइ। के तिमिलाइ कहिले पनि रिस उठ्दैन र मेडी?
हो, जनक रिस उठदैन भन्दा पनि हुन्छ मलाइ। सधै खुसि हुन्छु म। मेरो प्रतेक बिहानीको सुरुवात खुशिबाट होस भन्ने चाहान्छु म। रिस र राग मनमा राखनु हुदैन भन्ने लाग्छ मलाइ। मनमा रिस्-राग भएन भने , मन खुसि नै खुसि हुन्छ। I Think, happy makes a man healthy . मानीस खुसि हुन सिक्नु पर्छ जनक। हरेक कुरोलाइ सकारात्मक रूप् बाट हेर्न जान्यो भने खुसि नै खुसि भेटिन्छ तेहा। हरेक कुरो सोभाविक छ यहा। सुख र दुख सोभाविक छ, प्रेम र जिबन सोभाविक छ। अनि  जन्म र मिर्तु सोभाविक छ । भने मानिस किन दुखी हुने, किन रिसाउने?
वाऊ ! मेडी कति सुन्दर बिचार छ तिम्रो……
धन्यवाद जनक।
मेडी, प्रसङ्ग बदल्ने हो कि?
भैहाल्छ नि जनक, भन बरु कुन विषयमा कुरो गर्ने हामि?
मेडी कति सुन्दर छौ है तिमि?
हो र? मलाइ त लाग्दैन कि म सुन्दर छु। बरु तिम्रो आखा सुन्दर छ जनक। तिम्रो हेराइ सुन्दर छ। जुन कुरोलाइ जसरि हेरयो तेस्तै देखिन्छ जनक।
ठिक भन्यो मेडी तिमिले। जुन कुरो लाइ जसरि हेरयो तेस्तै देखिदो रहेछ।

आनि छोयेङ डोल्माको त्यो गीत याद आयो मलाइ यतिखेर

फूलको आखामा फूल सन्सार ।।
काडाको आखामा, काडै सन्सार…।

मेडि यौटा अर्को कुरो सोध्न मन लाग्यो मलाइ तिमि सङ्ग ।
भन के कुरो हो जनक?
तिमि यती सुन्दर छौ। यो उमेरमा आएर कोहि पुरुष मान्छे तिम्रो सुन्दरता प्रती लोभियो भने?
खित्का छोडेर हास्छिन मेडी। र भन्छिन यु नो जनक, आइ यम फोर्टि नाइन। यो कसरि सम्भब हुन सक्छ? डोन्ट वोरि, मलाइ कसैले पनि आखा लगाउने छैनन । एउटा जिम्मेबार आमा हुन् जनक म। १८ वर्षकी त मेरि छोरि भैसकी। अब त पालो मेरो होइन, मेरि छोरिको हो… मुस्कुराउछिन उनि। आइ लव माइ हजबेन्ड, आइ लव माइ किड्स्। तिमिलाइ पनि म तेति नै माया गर्छु जनक, जति म आफ्नो परिवार लाइ गर्छु। मेरो भाइको रूपमा माया गर्छु म तिमिलाइ। आइ लव यू यज अ माइ ब्रदर। धेरै साथीहरु छन मेरा, तर यु आर स्पेसियल वान । बट योउ अरे म्य् स्पेसल् वान ।
धन्यवाद मेडी, आइ लव यु टू यज अ माइ सिस्टर।

खुसि रहनु, स्वथ्य रहनु सधै भरि।५० औ जन्मदिनको अगरिम शुभकामना छ मेरो तिमिलाइ…………
तर, डोन्ट फोर्गेट तु कीप चिकन करि फोर् मि ओके?
सिओर जनक, आइ विल कीप चिकन करि फोर् यु तर छिटै आउनु है त?
जोरले हास्छीन मेडी।

बाइ जनक, सी यु लेटर । टेक केयर।
बाइ मेडी, सी यु लेटर । टेक केयर यू अल्सो।

च्याटरूम बाट बाहिरिन्छौ दुबै जना……

आगो

जनक भण्डारी

न्यानो हुन मलाई औधि मनपर्छ । आगोनजीक त्यसको रापसँग सम्बन्ध राख्न मेरा लालायित मांसपेसीका रेशाहरू जाडोका अनुभवले कक्रक्क पर्छन्, पर बलिरहेको आगोको तापमा ती रेशाहरूले देखेर टाढैबाट भावनामा अनुभव गर्न थाल्छन् । एक प्रकारको न्यानो तरङ्ग मेरा मांसपेशीका रेशाहरूका तारबाट मस्तिष्क भरि झड्क्रित हुन्छ । यसको अनुभव अङ्ग अवयवहरूमा संचालित भएको पाउँछु । म खुशीका मनमनै गुलियो मन पारेर हाँस्छु । मनको ओठहरू गंभीर खुशीका जलले हराभरा हुन्छन्, अनि म लुकाउनै नसकिने गरेर ओठहरूमा हराभरा व्यक्तिन्छु । मसँगै हिंडेको साथीले मलाई भन्छ - किन त्यसरी एक्लै मक्क परेकी - म त्यसलाई व्यक्त गर्दिनँ किनकि मेरा स्वयं उपस्थितिको अभिव्यक्तिको अगाडि शब्दका अभिव्यक्ति अधुरो हुन्छ भन्ने मलाई लाग्छ । म उसलाई उछिनेर त्यो रानेर पुग्न पाइला शीघ्र रूपमा बढाउँछु । मैले त्यतिबेला आगोको उज्यालो मात्र देखेको हुन्छु, त्यसको अवशेष कोइलाको कालो वा त्यसको नतीजा धूवाँको अँध्यारो देख्दिन, किनकि ती सबै आगोको न्यानो मात्र हुन्छ । म खरानी देख्दिन, किनकि खरानी अवशेष हो र भविष्य बताउने अवशेषलाई देख्ने प्रौढता र बुढौती ममा विकसित भएको छैन । त्यहाँ आगो बालेर अगाडि बसेको एउटा मानिस छ, जो हार्दिकता र स्नेहले मलाई टाढैबाट स्वागत गरिरहेछ, बोलाइरहेछ, औंलाले इशारा गरिरहेछ ।
म हिंड्दै गरेको ठाउँको र त्यस आगोको रापको ठाउँमा बाटोको दूरी निक्कै नै छ ! मेरा गोडा शीघ्रातिशीघ्र बढ्न थाल्छन् । त्यपछि झन् मेरा गोडाहरू यसरी हिड्दा-हिड्दा त्यस आगोसँग साक्षात्कार हुने ठाउँ वा जमीनको अंशमा आइपुग्छन्, जसमा म निसङ्कोचस्पष्ट रूप भएर समानान्तर सिंढीको रेखामा त्यहाँ उभिन पुग्छु । आगो प्रचण्ड रूपमा बलरहेको हुन्छ । एकछिन त आगोको ज्वालामा आफूलाई पनि प्रज्वलित पाउँछु । म त्यस रापमा आफूलाई हर्ेर्ने प्रयत्न गर्ने कोशिश गर्छु एक छिन त आनन्दी, आराम, स्वच्छ र न्यानो पाउँछु आफूलाई । त्यहीको त्यस साथीले मलाई भन्छ - "अलिक नजिक आएर बस, मेरो सँग नै ।" म स्वचालित यन्त्र जस्तो त्यतै लच्कन्छु । मलाई न्यानोको अनुभव प्रगाढ हुँदै जान्छ, मन पनि त्यसै साथ रमाउँदै जान्छ । न्यानोको पनि सङ्गीत हुँदोरहेछ प्रशस्त मेडोली भएको । मेलोडीको सरगमले भरिएका मेरा रक्त कोषाणु रापको न्यानोपन भएको अर्को मेलोडीमा मिस्सिन पुग्छन्-केन्द्रबिन्दु भएको उसको मानवीय भौतिक शरीरले बोकेका गोडातिर मेरो न्यानो पाउने उद्देश्य अझ अग्रसर हुन पुग्छ । मैले त्यतिबेला त्यहाँको त्यो आगोको न्यानो टिपिसकेको हुन्नँ, केवल रापले मात्र टाढाबाट नजिक हुँदै छोइएको हुन्छु ।

मलाई एउटा उखानको सम्झना हुन्छ,- "अगुल्टोले हानेको कुकुर बिजुलीदेखि तर्सिन्छ ।" त्यतिबेला त्यहाँ प्रत्यक्ष नै एउटा बालक अज्ञानमा आगोतिर बामे र्सर्दै घस्रन्छ, उसका आँखाले देखेको उज्यालोलाई उसको हातले टिप्न खोज्छ, त्यहाँ पोल्ने खतराको सीमारेखा उसले आफ्नो मस्तिष्कमा कोरिसकेको हुँदैन । एक मुष्ट आवाजले परबाट उसलाई "ए हुन्न हुन्न, पोल्छ, हुन्न" भनेर प्रतिक्रिया जनाउँछन् । त्यस आवाजप्रति एकचोटी आफ्नो शीघ्र आगो भेट्ने गतिलाई ऊ एकाएक टक्क रोक्छ । पोल्ने कुरालाई उसले देक्दैन, आगोको उज्यालोलाई मात्र देख्छ । फेरि शीघ्र गतिमा आगोतर्फकुद्छ र आगोलाई भेटिछोड्छ । तुरन्त यातना र पीडाले अज्ञानमा ठूलो आवाजमा त्रासको बीचमा रोएर चिच्याउन थाल्छ । म त्यो जीवित घटना त्यही फेरि देख्छु जुन आफूले पनि भोगिसकेको हुन्छु । वैचारिक साधारणीकरणको स्तरमा पुगेर मनभित्र आफूले आफैंलाई भन्छु-हर बालक आगोले पोलेको पीडाको ज्ञान अनुभवबाटै गर्छ । मलाई त्यो देखेर आफैं बालक भए जस्तो लाग्छ, मलाई नै पोलेजस्तो लाग्छ । म सम्झन थाल्छु मेरो मन पनि यसै गरी बामे सरेको थियो कुनै बेला, कुनै न्यानो वस्तुको प्राप्तीमा । आगोतिर कलिलो मन अग्रसर हुँदा, "ए हुन्न, हुन्न, पोल्छ, नजाऊ" भन्ने आवाज परिवारबाट र समाजबाट सुनेको थिएँ । म त्यो बालकको रुवाईको आवाजमा आफ्नै बामे सरेको पूर्वमनको आवाज पाउँछु । म त्यतिबेला आगोमा पुग्न अग्रसर हुँदा समातेर विपरित दिशामा फ्याँकेर आगोदेखि बचाइदिने कोही नभएको सम्झन्छु । त्यस बालकले आगोमा पोलेको हात गोडालाई नियालेर हेर्छ पोलेर बचेको तर कुरूप भइसकेको आफैंवरको आफ्नै मनलाई देख्छु । म हिस्टेरिया वा न्यूरोसिसले ग्रस्त भए झैं तुरुन्त ठूलो आवाजले डाको छाडेर रुन थाल्छु, तत्क्षण त्यहीं नै । सायद ठूलो भइसकेर पनि आवाज आउने गरी रोएको पहिलो हिक्का यही नै हो, आफूले नियन्त्रण गर्न नसकेको तीव्र दुःखको आरोह त्यही नै हो । मलाइ बलिरहेको त्यस आगोले तत्क्षण त्यहीं नछोएर नै पोल्छ । मेरो अनियन्त्रित आँसुको झरीले त्यस मुढोमा बलेको आगोलाई निभाउन के सक्थ्यो, बरु आगोमा घ्यू थपेजस्तो हुन्छ, आगो झन् प्रज्वलित भएरबल्न थाल्छ । सँगै उभिएको उसले मलाई हेरिरहेको हुन्छ । म रँदै र दौडदै घर र्फकन्छ, मैले मेरो आँसु र हिक्कालाई लुकाउनै सक्तिनँ यो रूपाइको हिक्का ज्वालामुखी भएर फुट्छ, अनि फैलन्छ । सबै घटना बगैंचा भ्रमण गरिरहनु भएका आमा र बुबालाई भनिदिन्छु । मेरो हात पनि बालककालमा यसैगरी पोलेको थियो । म आफ्ना ती अज्ञान औंलारहीत हात उहाँहरूको सामू तेर्स्याएर आँसु मिश्रति प्रश्न ठड्याउँछु - "यो मेरो हात कसरी पोलिएको थियो - तपाईँहरू त्यो घटनाको कारण मलाई कहिले पनि किन बताउनु हुन्न -"आमा रिसाएर र उदासीनता मिसिएको स्वरमा भन्नुहुन्छ "आगोले पोल्छ, तँलाई थाहा छैन -"बुबा ऐजन स्वरमा गंभिरता थपेर बोल्नु हुन्छ - "आगोलाई ताप्न जान्नु पर्छ छोरी ! अनि आगो न्यानो हुन्छ । आगोले सबैलाई पोल्छ । तँलाई आगोले पोल्दा तँ सानी थिइस् ।"
आजकल म अक्सर त्यो आगोले खाएको कुरूप हात तेर्स्याएर कोठामा हिटरको आगोको मात्र न्यानो ताप्ने गर्छु अक्सर म हिटरको आगोको करेन्ट र राप आँखाले नाप्ने गर्छु

Please Do Your Homework, Mr. Prime Minister


By nepali on January 18, 2010



As the Prime Minister of this country, Mr. Madhav Kumar Nepal needs to be able to answer to the main opposition when they seek clarification on what he blurts out on his speeches. How can you leave the House without answering The Questions, Mr. Prime Minister? According to Nepal News, Mr. Nepal had one whole day to provide the main opposition (the Maoists) with some answers but to no one’s surprise, failed to come up with anything. It is only too clear that Mr. Prime Minister didn’t do his homework.



Please read the following snippet from Nepal News:



UCPN (Maoist) parliamentary board deputy leader Narayan Kaji Shrestha had sought government’s official position on PM Nepal’s the alleged statement, Indian army chief’s statement about army integration in Nepal and alleged import of arms through Sunauli border on January 14 on Sunday.

On all three counts above, Mr. Nepal failed to deliver a response to the House and to the Nepali people. In his utterly shameful departure, Mr. Nepal failed to fulfill a fundamental tenet of a good leader: ability to step up to the plate and deliver when faced with a challenge. Rather, Mr. Nepal decided to bolt and in so doing made a mockery of himself yet again.



Question that I would like to find an answer to is - why did he leave? Did he have to go to the restroom? Unlikely, because he would have come back, one would hope. Did he forget something? That is a possibility considering he had all his answers written on a notebook or something. Or was he secretly hoping that the Maoists would forget about their queries from the day before? Or did he suddenly remember that his assignment was due today and he just went - “shit! forgot to consult the HLPM”? This, I’m thinking, could be it. The following is what transpired at the Chairman of HLPM Mr. Girija Prasad Koirala’s residence in Maharajgunj after the Prime Minister ventured out the door of the House this afternoon:



Mr. Nepal huffs and puffs his way to the foyer beside the living room where Mr. Koirala’s death bed elegantly lies. The death bed was built several years ago by Mr. Koirala’s adversaries at the time - all of Nepal, before presenting the ill-fated bed to the octogenarian on his birthday.



The bed sheet on that bed doesn’t have so much as a hint of anyone having occupied it, ever. After disappointingly glancing towards the death bed and feeling that pinch of Rs. 500,000 on his bank account and cringing, Mr. Nepal violently wipes off the sweat forming on his brow with the back of his hand:



Mr. Nepal: “Girija babu, what do I do? What do I do? I’m in deep shit again!”



Mr. Koirala: “Makuney bhai, calm down! Chill! Want a hit off this cigar?”



Mr. Nepal: “Girija babu, you know I quit that shit when I took up karate for self-defense! Remember how you said you didn’t need to join?”



Mr. Koirala: “Oh yeah, that’s right! I was secretly in talks with Prachanda ji at the time, unlike you guys. Hehe. Hehehe. Khit khit. He had assured me of my safety. What a nice man he is!”



Mr. Nepal: “Umm okay Girija babu, if you say so. But now I’m in trouble and I didn’t know who to turn to. You’ve got to help me out Girija babu. Please please!”



Mr. Koirala: “What did you do this time, Makuney bhai? Is Badal out kicking your behind again?”



Mr. Nepal almost loses his balance at that thought. Still shuddering, Mr. Nepal goes: “N..No..th..thank god no.”



Mr. Koirala: “What is it then, Makuney bhai? Problems at the house? Mrs. Nepal not happy that you’ve not been spending much time with her? Or is it the kids? They started to hang out with Paras?”



Mr. Nepal: “No Girija babu, I’m solid on the home front and the kids are nice kids - they wouldn’t disgrace my good family name like that. But thanks. Girija babu, I actually .. I .. er .. didn’t do my homework .. again. I forgot Girija babu.”



Mr. Koirala is furious.



Mr. Koirala: “What the hell man? Makuney bhai, how’s it gonna work like this man? You’ve got to take care of your business man! You’ve got to do your shit, my brother .. my brother from another mother! C’mon Makuney bhai! This ain’t gonna cut it man! YOU HAVE GOT TO DO YOUR HOMEWORK DAMMITTT!!!”



Mr. Koirala then glances towards Mr. K.P. Sharma Oli’s smiling framed photograph hanging on his wall which is located right beside the inordinately gleeful portrait of a famous Bollywood entertainer from the 70s, Mehmood. Mr. Nepal meanwhile follows Mr. Koirala’s gaze, drops his shoulders and sinks on the couch. A guard outside thinks he hears the Prime Minister of Nepal bawling. Unable to hold himself, the guard steps a couple of inches towards his left, and right through the weaving of the longest money plant in Nepal, peers through. A rush of excitement hits him when he sees Mr. Madhav Kumar Nepal, the Prime Minister of Nepal, incessantly crying his heart out in fetal position sucking on his thumb. After a while, Mr. Nepal starts mumbling some words to Mr. Koirala. Upon taking a listen closely, the guard can now distinctly hear a whining Mr. Nepal.



Mr. Nepal: ” .. sorry Girija babu. Sob sob. I’m .. sob .. really sorry. Please don’t call Mr. Oli. I promise .. sob sob .. I’ll never forget to do my homework again .. sob. Please Girija babu .. give me one chance.”



Mr. Koirala: “I don’t know Makuney bhai .. you’re unreliable. You’ve got to get your act together Makuney bhai. Plus, I’ve been noticing .. you lack leadership skills, bhai. You’ve got to be able step up to the plate when you’re being hit! You’ve got to show the Nepali people that you’re not a joke! You can’t be absconding like that and not doing your homework. Now quit crying!”



Mr. Nepal, for the second time today is seen wiping off his face. He takes off his glasses, pulls out his pink handkerchief from his suruwal, and does a clean sweep of his face. Putting his specs back on, Mr. Nepal goes: “Girija babu, tell me what I should do. I don’t have much time now and I need to finish this homework by this Thursday.”



Mr. Koirala: “Okay Makuney bhai, I’m doing this for the last time. One more slip, and you’re outta that seat! I can’t be baby-sitting you all the time. I’ve got shit to do too man!”



Mr. Nepal: “I know Girija babu and I completely understand. I will not let you down again. I promise.”



Mr. Nepal then clumsily holds the skin on his adam’s apple area collectively with his right thumb and right index finger.



Mr. Koirala sighs and says: “All right Makuney bhai all right! Just this once. Get your homework done right here right now!”



Mr. Koirala then writes something on a piece of paper and hands it out to Mr. Nepal. Mr. Nepal beams, and just like that, looks like he’s the happiest dude on earth. He pulls out his blackberry and starts dialing. The line connects and Mr. Nepal knows for sure that his homework will be done upon hearing the distinct, soft voice in a language that would make Mr. Paramananda Jha proud.



New Delhi: “Namaskar Pradhan Mantri ji! Boliye, kya khidmat kar saktey hain aaj hum aap key liye?”



After about 45 minutes, Mr. Nepal is seen exiting Koirala Niwas with the widest grin known to man. Media had already assembled outside the Koirala Niwas in Maharajgunj. Without entertaining the media, Mr. Nepal is seen waving to the cameras as he lunges into the comfortable Mercedes Benz.



On the nightly news later that evening, the guard at Koirala Niwas was laughing at the TV when the news anchor was throwing the following bullshit to the people of Nepal:



“The Prime Minister Mr. Madhav Kumar Nepal and the Chairman of the Nepali Congress had a meeting at latter’s residence this afternoon. According to our sources, the two discussed various ways of speeding up the Constitution writing process, among other things.”



Moving on the news anchor sternly continues:



“Meanwhile, the Chairman of Unified Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) Mr. Pushpa Kamal Dahal, upon hearing about this meeting today, has threatened to pull himself out of the HLPM and has reportedly discussed with his party’s central committee’s members about a double whammy of mass Nepal Bandh from the 24th of Januray.”

Now there’s some truth, the guard was thinking to himself and thanking heavens for giving him the right frame of mind when he had decided to send both of his daughters to America for higher studies a couple of years back.

दसैंको .......

दसैंको सामाजिक पक्ष बलियो भए पनि यो पर्वसँग जोडिएको आर्थिक पाटो र यसले पार्ने प्रभाव सकारात्मक देखिएका छैनन् । आयो दसैं ढोल बजाई, गयो दसैं ऋण बोकाई’ भन्ने पुरानो कथनले दसैंको आर्थिक विभेदको अवस्थालाई त्यसै पनि धेरै हदसम्म उजागर गर्छ । त्यसमाथि हरेक वर्ष यो पर्व मनाउने तौरतरिका भड्किलो बन्दै गएको छ । अहिले दसैंकै कारण ऋणै बोक्नुपर्ने तनावपूर्ण अवस्थामा बहुसंख्यक नेपाली नहोलान् यद्यपि यो पर्वको बेला हुनेखाने र हँुदा खानेबीचको आर्थिक खाडल गहिरिँदै गएको भने प्रस्टै देखाउँछ । राजधानीका अग्ला र ठूला सपिङ मलमा एउटा वर्ग किनमेलमा व्यस्त भइरहँदा मध्यपश्चिम र सुदूरपश्चिमका विकट जिल्लामा खाद्यान्न अभाव भइरहेको  र दसैं खल्लो हुने अवस्थामा पुगेको दुःखद् खबर आउनुले यो विभेदलाई छर्लङ्ग पारेको छ । एकातिर खानेकुराको जोहो गर्नै धौधौ परिरहेका बेला समाजको अर्को तप्कामा दसैं जुन रफ्तारमा भड्किलो र खर्चालु बन्दै गएको छ यो प्रवृत्तिलाई निरुत्साहित गरिनु आवश्यक छ ।
विजयप्राप्ति दसैंको प्रतीकात्मक अर्थ हो । त्रेतायुगमा अयोध्याका राजा रामचन्द्रले अत्याचार र अधर्मका प्रतीक रावणलाई युद्धमा हराएको पौराणिकतासँग यो पर्व जोडिएको छ । यसैका आधारमा समाजशास्त्रीले दसैंलाई शक्ति प्रदर्शनको पर्व भन्दै राजनीतिसँग समेत जोडेर हेर्ने गरेको पाइन्छ । पौराणिक र समाजशास्त्रीय तर्कको आफ्नै महत्त्व छ, यद्यपि हाम्रा सन्दर्भमा दसैं भनेको वर्ष दिनभरिको रिसराग, द्वेष र कलहलाई बिर्सने दिन हो । दसंैले मेलमिलाम, सहमति अनि सहकार्यको सन्देश बोेकेको
हुन्छ तर दुर्भाग्य, हामी असहमति र बेमेलपूर्ण राजनीतिक परिवेशमा यो पर्व मनाउँदै छौं । बाह्रौंपटक प्रधानमन्त्रीका लागि व्यवस्थापिका संसद्मा निर्वाचन भइसक्दा पनि दलीय आग्रह र गणितको राजनीतिबाट बाहिर निस्कन नसकेको हाम्रो राजनीतिक नेतृत्वका लागि दसैंको सन्देश निरर्थक जस्तो भइदिएको छ ।
पटकपटकको अवसरलाई चुकाउँदै आएको नेपालको राजनीतिक नेतृत्वका सामु फेरि एकपटक सहमतिको मार्गप्रशस्त गर्ने अवसर मिलेको छ । आपसी मनमुटाव र द्वेषलाई पछाडि छोड्दै दसैंलाई राजनीतिक मेलमिलापको दिशामा बढ्न अब चुक्नु हुन्न । प्रमुख दलका केही प्रमुख नेता विशेषका आग्रह र व्यक्तिगत प्रतिष्ठाको बन्धक पूरै देश र ऐतिहासिक प्रक्रिया हुनपुगेको छ । राजनीतिमा विकसित यो जटिलताले आम जनतामा घोर निराशाको अवस्था उत्पन्न भएको छ भने मुलुक देशी/विदेशी स्वार्थ शक्ति समूहको खेलमैदानमा परिणत हुने खतरा झनै बढ्दो छ । यद्यपि संक्रमणकालीन अवस्थामा बढ्दो यो जटिलताबाट मुक्त गर्ने दायित्व यिनै राजनीतिक दल र नेताहरूको काँधमा छ । तसर्थ दसैंले राजनीतिक गत्यावरोध अन्त्य र नयाँ आधारमा नयाँ सहमति गर्दै प्रमुख दलका शीर्ष नेताहरूलाई थाती रहेका ऐतिहासिक प्रक्रिया टुङ्गोमा पुर्‍याउने सद्बुद्धि र सफलता मिलोस् । दसैंको हार्दिक शुभकामना ।

Summary of Forget Kathmandu

In June 2001, King Birendra Bir Bikram Shah was killed in a massacre at Kathmandu s Narayanhiti royal palace, allegedly by his own son, the crown prince, and the world took new notice of Nepal. Since then, several thousand lives have been lost to a violent Maoist insurgency and repressive state counter-insurgency. Parliamentary democracy, too won late, in 1990 has been lost. And there are no clear indications of how long it will be before the civil war ends and popular government is restored.

In this illuminating study of the tangled politics of her country, Manjushree Thapa examines what has gone wrong, and why. Starting with an account of the Narayanhiti massacre and its aftermath, she goes back in time to trace the history, often chaotic, of Nepal s monarchy since unification in the 18th century, and of the struggle, in the 20th century, for genuine democracy. She ends with a record of her trek into Maoist-held territories in west Nepal, where the majority continue to live in poverty, human rights abuses are on the rise, and boys and girls as young as thirteen have taken to the gun.

A skilful mix of history, reportage, memoir and travel writing, Forget Kathmandu is an unprecedented examination of Nepal s past and present. The gifts of insight and lucidity that Thapa brings to her intensely political narrative make this one of the finest works of non-fiction from the subcontinent in recent times.

Praise for Forget Kathmandu

Forget Kathmandu is . . . part memoir drawn from living through the recent turmoil, part history of the royal family, part reportage on a trip Ms Thapa made to areas controlled by Maoist rebels, and partly also a reflection on what has gone so desperately wrong with her country. It is probably the best, and certainly the most readable, single-volume attempt to address that last question The Economist

Thapa s investigation is deeply moving and very funny, much like Nepal itself Newsweek

Manjushree Thapa is the best kind of chronicler because she breaks down conventional modes of how history should be recorded: she acts, by turns, as reporter, activist, analyst and archivist, employing the techniques of each discipline . . . Thapa is both passionately involved and coolly sardonic Business Standard

[Forget Kathmandu] is at once informed by an intense political passion, a strong historical sense, a profound insight into the inner dynamics of a nation and is yet accessible to all . . . A must-read Financial Express

Fast-paced, hard to put down, written with style and sophistication, also honesty and emotion . . . A must-read Outlook

A must read . . . It s reminiscent of the late great W.G. Sebald s non-fiction as an engaging detective story; a good template for non-academic studies from a modern conflict zone Hindustan Times

Thapa gives a splendid brief history of Nepal . . . Her analysis is astute and her observations often wry and illuminating Indian Express

It is at once a celebration of the power of the literary monologue and a cry of outrage at the reality in which the present Nepali state and society are trapped Nepali Times

Parashu Pradhan Unattended

When and how I happened to land at the Kathmandu Airport – I knew nothing of. I got conscious and unconscious by turns right since I boarded the plane at the New York airport. I turned my thoughts upon where I was, how I was and why I was flying to Nepal. But the string of the workings of my mind would come to an abrupt ending, and Mother's ailing, invalid face would unceasingly question me – 'Kanchhi Chhori, I wish you were at least able to see me last, but it's almost beyond hope

I used to keep my spirits up: I'll see the last looks of her; I'll see my mother a last chance, because I knew her face was at the last straw, at the last breath. The sinking face of my father still bobs up to my dreams and keeps on pleading – 'I remembered only you at my last hours, I dwelled only on you. I carried my thoughts only to you, my Kanchhi Chhori Sirjana'.

Soon I got a ticket and flew right off. I had made a solemn pledge not to repeat the sore history and fall in with the flame of a grave mistake and repentance thereafter. Only a sentence rang in me, 'Aama siriyas hunuhunchha, bewaris hunuhunchha.' (Mother is serious, she's not attended to.) Only two words from over the telephone struck me continually - 'serious' an English word and 'bewaris' a Nepali word.

 Among the many passengers in the plane I was all alone as a bird lost somewhere in a jungle. I had always felt some inexplicable inadequacy or emptiness within while I was in Kathmandu. And then I lived in London for a few years. But the shadows of inadequacy or emptiness kept on chasing me there too. Now I've moved to America, yet the shadow, I don't understand why, has not let go of me. I find I'm somewhere among the nonexistence, among the insufficiency, among the want.  

I reached the hospital. The stinking smell there suffocated me. I thought I had reached in some hell. Masking with a hanky I entered and went upstairs. The foul smell outside had reached every nook and cranny in the hospital rooms. All of a sudden I happened to spot Mother's face, and I was horrified- it was a mere framework of bones.

 'Aama! Darshan! I’m arrived!' I cried in a subdued franticness.

Hearing me, she opened her eyes.  They were dry. There was no water in them.

'How are you now, Aama?' I spoke again. Once more she opened her eyes and in blurred voice she said, 'Sirjana, you have arrived all the way from America to see me… I'm at my last time….'

'I'm at my last time…' I had a lump in the throat. Tears welled up. I felt as if I was squeezed into a horrifying tunnel.

'Aama, now I am arrived … I will take you to America and get treated… Aama! My Aama…! Surely I will.' I was thoroughly overwrought. I wished I could have howled and wailed frantically, shuddering the heavens; but in such circumstances the timely response wouldn't be that.

 Soon Eldest Brother popped up. He was shocked, 'Sirjana! You here?  It was just the day before yesterday we talked. There was no hint of your coming. How come you are here all of a sudden?'

 'She is my Aama as well as yours, Thuldai! She gave birth to you and she gave birth to me too! Here Aama's faring this terminal …  How could I help coming?' I bowed to him.

I don't know why I lamented within again.

'There was a fear of brain hemorrhage, but it didn't occur. Paralysis is in one side. The doctor has approved of discharge and treatment at home, but…'

 Doctor Sahib appeared and his 'but- ' couldn't continue. He cautioned, 'Haven't I told you to take your mother home? It's already been five days since I prepared the discharge sheet. What are you dawdling for?'

 The doctor performed a cursory inspection and stressed once again on the same old thing, 'I'm not seeing her any more. I've prescribed some medicines to take at home. Take a good care of her'.

 I observed Mother's face again. A setting sun she was. She was at her critical moments. Meanwhile I journeyed deep into the past, where Father too was. How fit pair and loving couple Mother and Father's was! They were the figures of some unspeakable envy of the neighbors. I, the youngest daughter Sirjana or Sirju, was the spoiled child of Mother, Father and everybody in the family. Whenever the household made preparation for festivals or celebrations, palavers were on what new garments should be readied for me. If a visitor dropped by, showers of honeyed phrases. They connected my beautiful luck to beautiful looks and I myself didn't see through all this stuff.  

And now Younger Brother showed up. He too was flabbergasted, ''Oh! You too could come?'

I made a deep bow.

The atmosphere in the room grew somber for a short while. Eldest Brother examined the younger one's expressions and made a lame attempt to open his lips, but they failed to yield to him. Likewise, Younger Brother studied my face and said, 'But you come without any hint? At least you could have phoned that you were ...........'

'I was in a wild rush, Sandai! How to arrive here at the earliest was my only end. I had a premonition I wouldn't be able to meet Aama for the last. But the stars were at my side. Now I could have her darshan at least.' I did my best to ease myself.

And then Eldest Sister-in-law turned up and we all were alert. My being there gave her a jolt.

 'Nani too here from America.....? Why no information? Er… It's almost a week since the doctor's said to take Aama home and nurse her. But we haven't been able to come to any conclusion.' I was speechless. I felt she was out to relate the whole history, she was going to report all the past in the same breath. She wouldn't stop. 'Now Nani too is here. Hope now the problem would clear up. Nani! I'm not in a position to take Aama home and continue the treatment. Both of us leave home for work at eight in the morning and are back only after seven in the evening. The children go to school. Who would take care of Aama all day long?' Sister-in- law poured her long tale of woe.

 Time came to a standstill. Mother's eyes opened, probably stung by Sister-in-law's words. They scrutinized each of us once from her bed. She scanned everything in the room and closed them. I transformed myself into her and journeyed far into the future- a moment like this will eventually befall me too. The character is the same; time, place and setting may vary. I cursed us all.  Before I could speak, Younger Brother opened his mouth- 'Whatever Bhauju says is the fact. I never suspect its truth. But mine too is not the state of affairs good enough to take Aama home. It's been years my wife's contracted uterine cancer and she's bedridden. I've not been able to render due attendance on her. What shall I do with one invalid and the other incurable?'

 'Can one say that after accepting Mother's pension property?' Eldest Brother stopped him. Meantime, a nurse entered. 'What are you discussing on? The boat may sink before the boatmen are able to arrive at some conclusion. Are you taking your mother home today or not?'  The nurse remarked. She measured the fever with a thermometer, asked to give Mother a capsule and left the room.

 'Shall I take Aama to America then? … My conscience told I was bound to speak. I knew that was the best thing I could say. I'd read in papers how the society was degenerating in a few years. In the deteriorated society where a man was taking his wife to Bombay and selling her there, a brother was forcing his sister to prostitution, I thought I forwarded an appropriate proposal. I was nearer the truth.

 Brothers' eyes met. I gathered they'd desired this very thing. I left the room to meet the doctor for further consultation. As a child that has learned his lesson by heart pours out in front of his teacher I begged, 'Doctor Sahib, I'd like to take Aama to America… What would you suggest….?'

The doctor was among a crowd. Patients and their relatives were thronging around. But he directed his eyes towards me, 'So you live in America, are you a Green-Card holder.....?'

'We've been living in America for years. I'm of the opinion that Aama's treatment might be better there than here. If only Doctor Sahib could permit….' I implored.

 Instead of caring about my request, he begged, 'I've not the least interest in working in this hospital. What's the use of remaining here? Could you please help me out to there?'

 I saw: not only Doctor Sahib here, but the whole nation, all people are pleading with me, begging of me.

 'Doctor Sahib, I'll do whatever I can! What's impossible if you wish! But for now, I'm serious about my mother…Doctor Sahib, what is your suggestion?' Again, I repeated my story.

'Such an elderly with brain hemorrhage. How can you take her all the way to America? Quite impossible! Take her home immediately and let her have a good rest. This is my suggestion.' Armed with the doctor's downright rejection, I returned to the bed only to find both the brothers impatient to escape the scene.

 'We are off, one must attend the office,' they excused themselves and walked out of the room. I was at my wit's end. I could not decide what I should speak or do. I was thoroughly nervous, to be honest. I couldn't well discern what was going on about me.

 'Aama, how are you?' I asked. Mother opened her lackluster eyes. She stared at me as if she couldn't recognize me. She must have felt she had arrived at some strange land.

 'Let me die… I don't want to live any more… It's enough.' I read these words in Mother's eyes. She pulled the saline water pipes, oxygen pipes and all quite wildly. I tried to restore them. There appeared the wrath of Death in her eyes. I shouted out to the nurse for help. But probably they were Mother's final moments. Her eyes were shutting for ever. But I kept on howling and wailing, 'Aama, Aama, my Aama…. My Aama…'