To the readers: (As an amateur writer many flaws might have crept in. This story is a fictional portrayal. Event cited in this story could be related to the actuality of its occurence. Few details might not be technically correct so please overlook them. Please forgive for the grammatical errors too.)
OF DOOM and DESPAIR
It was 8 am in the morning, the sun had already scorched. Krishna looked outside the window of his meagerly furnished room.The parched leaves of a tree nearby gestured another insipid day."Yet another bland day", he sighed. He slurped tea from a smeared mug and waited for the hawker to hurl the morning newspaper. He could hear the buses honking outside. A 10 band FM radio which he had purchased for three hundred rupees out of a straight bargain from Purano Bus Park was incessantly playing nepali songs. The road was some fifty odd yards from the place he lived. He stood on the balcony, not a gust of zephyr could be sensed. "Tring tring" the bicycle bell could be heard. Bishnu who supplied the daily newspaper was an adroit hawker. He would fling the 'Kantipur Daily' right to his balcony from the road below and would never miss it. Sometimes Krishna would stand at the balcony and attempt a catch to prevent the newspaper from landing on the soiled balcony. Sometimes water from Pandey bajai's leaking kitchen basin that blended dirt with water would make unbearably difficult for Krishna to grab his newspaper. He had tripped on it several times. For umpteenth time his failed attempts made him realize that he was no good at it. Even Bishnu had learned that Krishna was not adept in catching. Bishnu would come upstairs to deliver it only when it rained.
He picked up the newspaper, turned the pages and with discontent threw it on a stack of frayed, unkempt paper piles.
“Same old stuffâ€, he muttered. He then reluctantly pulled out a spruced shirt that had been brought by the dhobi the previous day and checked its pockets and pulled out a neatly folded bill.
He heaved the bill onto the newspaper stack. He owed some money to the cleaner.
"FM le sabai samachar phukihalchha aba yo partrika pani........arko hafta dekhi Bisne lai nale bhannu parla....hyaa", he spoke to himself. He could not spend on newspapers, not any more.
He glanced at his clothes that were brought in by the dhobi.
“Paani naaako ni dui din bhayisakyo, natra ta afai dhuinthyo ki??†He was still dubious. He had never washed clothes in eons. The last time he tried his hands on his clothes, he slept for 14 straight hours.
"Luga dhuna ra bhada majnu jasto dikka kehi lagdaina", he would often mumble to himself. The water scarcity was such that he had to stand on a queue at the tap down stairs to fetch two buckets of water and that too on alternate days.
Pandey bajai had called on him couple of days earlier. She was furious of not being paid the rentals. Krishna had blushed and sheepishly handed her some money which was still not adequate for the lady.
"I don't know why I always have to bear such tenants", Pandey bajai's clichéd dialogue reverberated the 10x10 murky room as she hastily thumped the tinned door.
Krishna chuckled, optimism still lulled in his hearts. He thought of shoveling the remaining money when he would receive the salary that month. "It is not easy shunning the sly lady; I would have found another place if only I hadn’t……†his mind dwelled in thoughts.
The oddity of the lady's behavior seemed ruthless to anyone. There were not even remnants of obscured benevolence in Pandey bajai. But Krishna knew that she was not the resolute lady she was pictured as. Krishna could not blame, specially the tenants, for misconstruing her unconcealed sternness.
"Pandey baje ko atto patto chaina, choro Arab gayyo asti, chori jwai chai kahile kahile aunchhan", these were the conversations he would sometimes overhear at the queue at the solitary tap that supplied water to four families. The women wouldn’t stop gossiping about her and he couldn’t stop himself from eavesdropping. Rumors were that her better half had left her for no good reason. People talked about Pandey baje’s infidelity and her son’s addiction to drugs. Krishna had absolutely no clues and he was not at all bothered.
Pandey bajai was accompanied by Rama, an eleven year domestic help. But even though she was ruthless to the tenants, Rama was a well fed, strong plump girl who even at that age would carry a bucket from the tap to the kitchen upstairs. She would go to school nearby and accompany Pandey bajai after school. She was not sent to a government school but to a small primary school which was few houses away.
Krishna had been battling with his own mammoth problems. He had flunked all of his first year MBS paper and was working at a finance company in Putali Sadak for a meager salary which was just enough to earn him three meals a day and pay-off his monthly room rent of Rs 1500 which was comparatively very cheap for a place like Maitidevi. He had tried his luck in big banks in Kathmandu but his poor and flawed English speaking had foiled his every attempt. He could have gotten away with jobs at new banks with his immaculate Nepali which he had acquired from his father, who was a high school Nepali teacher in Dang but the butterflies in his stomach during interviews always inhibited him from getting out of the nervousness and unleashing his buried potential . Besides he had very few acquaintances and nepotism still mocked the calibers of people.
The clock was swiftly ticking. He hastily got dressed and didn't even bother to pucker his shirt. He thudded down the two and a half foot wide stairs after closing his one room apartment with a secure AA48 black Chinese lock and stashed the keys on a cemented protuberance above the door. He had lost many keys from the pockets of his trousers; many of which had holes inside.
“Bharayang tala jharne belama ta bistarai jharnu ni, gharai dhaalne gari orlaanu parchha ? “Baijai’s complaint from the top floor could be heard down stairs.
Krishna had some uncompleted errands and had to reach office on time. He ran to the micro-bus stop. With exiguous sum of money in pocket he couldn’t afford hopping in a micro bus or a safa tempo but since he was already late for office he waited for one. Even though Maitidevi to PutaliSadak is a walking distance for money savers, he was ready to travel in an over crowded four wheeler into which the driver would cram more people until they would squeeze themselves till blood would spurt out of every squashed commuter. To his rescue he bumped into Hari Dai, a gem of a person and someone who flaunted a new motorbike.
"Kata bhai??", he interrogated, taking off his glares which glinted as he carefully took them off.
He looked slightly ostentatious. Hari dai was always seen in glares. This slightly cross-eyed gentleman was very conscious of people staring at him when not wearing them. With Krishna it was a different case. They shared a good level of intimacy. Krishna was a frequent invitee at his retail store at nights when they would sip Blue Riband Gin with sprite and savor sekuwa from Kamale ko sekuwa pasal. Krishna could also switch from Yak to Surya during the rendezvous. Hari Dai preferred Krishna to most of his peers because he would listen to all his anecdotes without showing a slightest symptom of getting bored even if he had listened to it for zillion times. Hari had been to most places in Nepal from his previous job for a timber contactor but had quit when his employee B.S Thapa was incarcerated for smuggling red sandal wood. Luckily Hari was not involved so he landed up in Kathmandu and opened a retail store which fetched substantial earning. Hari liked Krishna as he hailed from Dang which co-incidentally happened to be Hari’s in law’s place. Krishna’s humility had won his heart. Hari was the only person he could count on in difficult situations.
"Ye dai kata jana lagnu bhako?†Krishna was spontaneous in being inquisitive without creating any delay.
"Ma tehi Dilli Bazar samma", Hari glanced at his watch. He was on a routine ride. His itinerary included the wholesale markets in Asan.
Krishna did not want to lose the opportunity to save some bucks some of which he would have by displaying the student identity card that would offer a 33 per cent discount on every travel. Krishna’s predicament could be sensed.
"Malai tehi office samma janu thiyo", he answered without revealing slightest exuberance.
"Putali sadak samma chodidinu na daiâ€, he humbly requested Hari.
Few minutes later he was pillion riding Hari Dai's two- wheeler. The phantasmagoric views of the posters of some C grade hindi flicks with raunchy women could be seen on the walls on both sides of the road. Hari Dai swiftly rode past the honking buses and buzzing crowd. He would not shy away to look at girls and women walking on the road.
“Ramri raichhe hai bhai?†His helmet clad head rotated 40 degrees as he examined the curves of a lady in her mid twenties waiting. He would carefully slow down the vehicle and watch the anterior and posterior. But he would do nothing gross. His actions would reflect a perverted mind but Krishna knew he was just appreciating the beaux yeux.
“Ha ha dai pani k sarho mattekoâ€, Krishna replied after furtively glancing at the lady.
Hari had an excellent running retail store, a beautiful wife, a small piece of land in Bhaktapur, couple of bighas of land in Dang given to him by his in laws. He had nothing to worry about. He lived in a three room, one kitchen apartment in Maitidevi. But Hari dai did not have children. He was coping with fertility issues. The couple had tried everything from allopathic treatment to homeopathic medicines but all efforts in vain, his wife had not conceived. In spite of the concealed guilt of not fathering a child, he was one content person.
“Here you areâ€, Hari pressed the drum- brakes of the two-wheeler. The wheels shrilled due to the friction against black topped road. Krishna got off the seat.
“Thank you Hari daiâ€, he acknowledged Hari’s favor.
“La bhai beluki bhetana haiâ€, Hari spoke from within his circumscribed head.
“Ye la hunchha daiâ€, Krishna approved. Krishna was already dreaming of an evening reunion as the motorcycle disappeared in the pandemonium.
“Krishna sir, thulo sir le khoji ranu bhachha,†Dhan Bhahadur told Krishna on the way as he hurried upstairs to the third floor where his office was. Krishna dashed off. His hands hit the tea carrier which Dhan Bahadur was carrying for the office staff. Fortunately Dhana’s maneuver prevented the tea from spilling. Krishna raced upstairs it was already 9.30 am, half an hour past the actual time.
“Sir bolaunu bhako ho?†Krishna uttered as he wiped the sweat tricking down his forehead with a never washed handkerchief.
“Aan Krishna jee tapai sanga kura garnu chhaâ€, Krishna had already anticipated what Chandan Sir would be saying.
“Chitthi chodnu bhako raichhaâ€, Chandan Sir stared at Krishna inquisitively.
“Hajur sirâ€, Krishna replied.
“Ani rajinama dinu ko karan ta khulaunu bhako chaina raichhaâ€, Chandan sir inquired.
Krishna was one of the hardest workers in the office. Some of his peers were insinuatingly cunning who had gained favors out of their craftiness. A relatively reticent Krishna worked hard but at the end of the month drew only fifty-five hundred which was a scanty amount to survive in challenges. He had thought of applying elsewhere but luck was not favoring him. He thought that Kahtmandu had brought jinxes and it was time to transcend to a broader horizon, materialistically of course.
“Kehi chitta nabujheko bhaye bhannus, hernus hamro tetti thulo shahakari sansthan ni haina……..†Chandan seemingly needed an explanation but he was ready to negotiate.
“Sir bidesh jana laakoâ€, Krishna had to justify.
“Thikai chha teipani pakka bhako ta chaina hola ni, ki bhayisakyo Krishna jee?â€
“Sir aja kagaj patra aunchha bhaneko chha. Sir mahina sakina ajai hafta dus din banki chha. Ghar gayera sab bandobasta milaunu ni chhaâ€, Krishna unequivocal explanation convinced Chandan.
Krishna belonged to a mediocre family from Dang. His father was a high school nepali teacher. He lost his mother to malaria when he was fourteen. He had a younger brother who was studying in the same high school where his father taught. Overburdened with the pressure of childcare and teaching job, his father had sent Krishna to stay with his elder sister in Nepalgunj where Krishna completed his intermediate level of education. Krishna had a pretty normal childhood. Keshari, his aunt treated a motherless child like her own. He would go home on holidays. He graduated from Mahendra Bahumukhi Campus, Nepalgunj with an I.Com degree. Ramesh, Keshari’s only son had succumbed to Bheri River when Krishna was studying in the first year, I Com. They were together when the ill-fate struck. Krishna could not swim and Ramesh a skilled swimmer plunged into the swirl of Bheri in the month of July. A fierce whirlpool dragged him down and moments later the thrust pushed his body on the surface. It took minutes for the local rescuers to pull his body out. If only Krishna could swim he would not have seen his brother sink to the abyss of death. Ramesh was two years older than Krishna and was preparing to get into the armed forces. They had deep rooted intimacy. Ramesh would treat Krishna like his own brother. Together they had been there and done that.
After Ramesh expired, Krishna could not bear the agony of losing an elder brother. He couldn’t look straight into Keshari’s eyes. Krishna held himself responsible for Ramesh’s death. The fact that he could not save his brother’s life had his heart shred into tatters. A year after Ramesh’s death, Krishna went to Kathmandu hoping to find solace and a future to support his family.
“Sir malai aja lunch pachi kaam chha…..â€
“Ye janus bhayihalcha niâ€, Chandan interrupted Krishna before he could complete his sentence.
Krishna left office at 2pm. It was a humid day. Sweat dripped as he walked from Putali Sadak to Anamnagar. He xeroxed his passport and his citizenship card en-route Anamnagar. He halted at a small tea and cake vendor and lighted a Sikhar. With translucent fumes from the fag that would gradually fade in the vicinity he would think of earning big bucks in the Middle East. He did not even realize that he had smoked till the fag end. He suddenly jolted the stub when the sensation of the fervor hit the index and the middle finger. He then paid for the recreation and walked away in the prickly heat.
The manpower agency was located at Anamnagar. He had paid ten thousand rupees in cash for the visa processing. He was to pay sixty thousand more after the passport had been stamped. Krishna had arranged twenty five thousand from his savings and the CIT fund; Hari dai had assured another ten and the remaining Krishna’s father would draw from the provident fund. He had settled monetary matters and he could not wait for exploring new vistas in the Middle East. He had applied for a junior accountant post at a petro-industry in Dubai so he would not have to worry about the excruciating physical stress at work.
Twenty meters away from the agency, he could see a huge crowd gathered in front of the office building. The pandemonium was getting worse. Krishna’s heart skipped a beat. His heart was pounding and he was perspiring like a sprinter. The figments of his imaginations created filmstrip of horrendous things during those intensifying twenty meters.
“Dai k bhayoâ€, he questioned a middle aged person. The aggravated assault was amplifying.
“Khai bhai taha nai bhayena", he put forward his ignorance.
“ Iraq ma nepali haru lai maryo re attankwadi haru leâ€, another person clarified Krishna’s doubts.
"Yei manpower le pathako", the same person spoke.
The furious crowd was pelting stones at the windows of the office. Many of the panes had been shattered. The proprietor of the agency was being called names. Moment later police flocked in dozens to control the outrage but the vituperative crowd was not going to stop. Krishna was in an utter state of confusion. He stood there agape and watched the brawl between the police and the crowd.
After hour and a half Krishna fled the scene as the tumult was exacerbating. He walked till he reached Hari dai’s retail store. Hari dai had recommended the agency to Krishna so he thought Hari would be of some help. The shop shutter was down. He sped to his room. There were people there too. Unaware of what was happening; Krishna saw Rama’s. Her gloomy face expressed pensive sadness. She was squatting on the stairs in front of his room. He ran upstairs. There were people gathered in the living room which was scantily furnished. Pandey bajai laid unconscious on the floor which was covered with an old rug. Women were fanning her and an utter silence filled the entire room. Pandey bajai’s daughter was on one corner with hands on her head and tears were rolling down her eyes. Hari dai pulled Krishna’s hand. Both of them went outside the room which was on the top floor.
“Dai k bhayo?†Krishna’s dehydrated lips mumbled.
“Samachar sunenau? Pandey bajai ko chora pani……….†he did not complete the sentence. Uninterrupted silence followed the conversation.
Krishna could not even console himself. Despondency had filled the voids.
(Reuters) August 31st, 2004
Twelve Nepalese decapitated in Iraq.
Twelve Nepalese were kidnapped by extremist terrorist forces en-route Iraq from Jordan………………………………………..
(some where down the news the name Sharan Pandey seemed familiar)
The End
Last edited: 14-Mar-08 04:39 PM
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