ENCOUNTER
Indra Jatra was in full swing in Visit Nepal Year 1998. Motley crowds of city people, tourists, and street vendors thronged the cobbled courtyard of Basantapur for a precious glimpse of the Virgin Goddess. Word went around to the effect that a motorcade carrying King and his entourage was due any time. Pushing and shoving ensued in the Courtyard to make way. Dozens of policemen rushed to part the sea of crowd, with magical Billy clubs in hand. Willowy khate kids slipped on the slippery street at a mere touch, and many more fell on top of them like dominoes. Shrill cries of pain went up, bickering started, fists started flying, more pushing and shoving continued, obscenities were hurled, minor stampedes rippled through the crowd. The police rushed to maintain order. All these happened at once, as if on cue. The lazy bull seated in a far corner of the street looked on nonchalantly, taking in the pagan spectacle without which the Indra Jatra could not be said to be complete. It had the feel of an orchestrated chaos.
Sal looked on from high up on a step of a pagoda temple, getting bored by the minute. Two hours of patient waiting had started to take its tolls. The momos he’d eaten that noon was not sitting well. He had no idea where to go to answer nature, should it come calling. He also dreaded the prospect of another Monsoon shower. All these real and imagined inconveniences grew on him until he could take them no more. He rose up to go as the first drop of rain fell smack on his nose.
He descended the steps and walked toward New Road, weaving in and out of the crowd. The rain started pouring hard and fast. He put his backpack over his head and started to run for cover. As he rushed inside the grocery store at the first intersection, he brushed past a girl whom he hadn’t noticed earlierr. When she turned around to see who had nudged her, their eyes met. They both looked the other way quickly – embarrassed.
He turned around to steal another look. She was puffing on a Surya. Funny thing was each time she exhaled she exhaled beautiful rings of smoke that transformed into abstract artworks before disintegrating and dissipating. He watched her entranced. She had a round Mongoloid face, with stubby upturned nose and dancing almond eyes. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a crimson ribbon. Her jeans came only up to her knees and she had on a bone-white shirt. She was sporting big wrist-sized loopy earrings that made him wanna finger. She was wearing sandals and her lower calves were caked with mud. She fingered the cig with the kind of finesse that would have put Marlene Dietrich to shame. She had lahure’s daughter written all over her. Her eyes spoke the language that he could at least understand: that of boredom.
Although his weakness had been girls with ‘sad heaven’ in their eyes, there was none in this girl’s. Zero, zilch! But he would settle for Boredom, which is a twin sister of Lady Sadness really.
“You and I could banish boredom together,” he purred into her ears, taking a chance. He was predisposed to occasional bursts of stupid audacity and corny pick-up lines at rare sightings of what he considered to be a vision of unearthly beauty.
“Oh ya? And how do you propose to do that?” she asked, playing along in her convent-tinged accent that pointed toward Darjeeling.
He liked her instantly. She had no complexes whatsoever. Didn’t mind a stranger approaching her probably because she could hold her own with the best or worst of them.
“Ah, but the boredom has already vanished. Didn't you notice? When two bored people chat, boredom takes flight.”
“That is so true. Only that I never saw it that way.”
“When a guy who is a loser and a girl who is a loser meet and are comfortable in each other’s company then they both are winners. Of course, I am not saying you are a loser.”
“Are you?”
“Absolutely,” he said, amused. “Can’t you see ‘loser’ written on my forehead?”
“Oh really?” she asked, chuckling.
“I reckon you are a winner then. You look like a girl who’s got it all. Look, I gotta go. A loser like me can really spoil your trip.”
As he turned to go, she said, “You are crazy to go out in this rain!”
“I like walking in the rain. Besides rain never killed anyone.”
“You’ll be surprised. Here let me walk you to wherever it’s you’re headed.”
They walked in the rain side by side, each taking turns holding her umbrella.
“My name is Minnie by the way!”
“Hi Minnie, nice to meet you.”
“And you are?”
“I am Mickey Mouse. No, no, I’m Salik but you can call me Sal.”
They walked toward the Ratna Park bus terminal to the rhythm of the hattisundhe pani beating down on the umbrella. They made small talks, laughed and screamed to the disconcertation of those around them. Meanwhile, there was no sign of the rain letting up.
That very instant Lord Indra was riding across the sky in his chariot, giving them both a thumb up. The two were too busy exchanging phone numbers to care. They were unaware that they had just ignored the wrathful God and there was no telling when the Vajra would strike.
