Sound?sound fascinates me. It makes me feel--calm, anxious, worried, and sometimes, crazy. But, never angry.

The first time I noticed sounds around me was when I was a baby in the crib. The leaves of the cherry tree out side my window whispered to me. When I cried to be picked up at night, I heard angry sounds--my parents fighting. The flower vase crashing onto the wall and breaking into pieces that sprayed into my crib. Then, I'd hear my own scream penetrate the night. I'd pause for a moment just to hear the lack of sound which I?d then break with another piercing scream. My parents seldom interrupted their own noise to pick me up. As I exhaust my lungs I'd hear another rhythm rising out of my baby chest. Yes, I listened to the sounds of my own heartbeat that raced through the pitch blackness of my crib. My heartbeats gave me a steady momentum. It was the only thing I could count on among all my erratic movements: chubby, flailing arms that waved like antennas of a sea anemone--arms, which often boxed me with clenched fists. Fat legs that kicked in protest desiring to run away from those angry sounds at night. But, it was the whispers of leaves which wafted into my crib through the open window that lulled me to sleep. Even the humidity of my room did not disturb me as I lay in sweat soaked blankets.

They told my mother that I was different. I was slow, slower than children of my age. I am five years old. The "test lady" told my mother that I was a three-year old inside my five year old body. I know it's not true because I am smarter than my three-year-old baby sister, Maggie. No one knows this. Although, she did show me how to button up my shirt straight up the front of my belly, right up to my throat. I have fat fingers that act like melting butter. I can?t hold pencils, crayons or buttons "correctly". My mother told me I needed to hold tight until I'd get a good "correct" grip. I don?t know what that means.

Color dominates my actions. Red paint, red nail polish, red cloth, red crayons and even red lipstick make me react. My mother smacked me for eating her red and orange lipsticks. My teacher punished me for biting bits off the red crayons she had sorted for the children to draw a sunset with. The "talking lady" told my mother that I was "oral" and that I would outgrow it. But she does not know me. She does not know the power "red" has over me. She has not seen me jab my finger with a paper clip until red oozes out. A slow trickle, first and then a welling of red--bright- ruby- red, pigeon-blood- red as it runs over the dent of the jab. While I watch, the first drop falls in slow motion as it splatters onto the concrete in a perfect circle with jagged edges. Almost like a small setting sun. Through practice I have learned that the angle of my wounded finger makes the splash a circle or even an oval like a rain drop. "Oval" is the shape I learned in school. Oval rain drops, oval tears, and oval blood drops. Then, with a small stick, I trace red shapes and stick figures of my mother, baby Maggie and me. I know I can hold a paper clip correctly when I draw red. But, I don?t draw my father.

...............To be continued

Sitara!! Red is bad!!! It is not good if you see red coming out of somebody's body okay!! I had to make sure, you might start with your red-loving-routine even in Sajha and start killing us all..

On a serious note, what a great narration. You do have a fascination with red and red does bring out best in you. One of your other best narration was Vermillion, similar color.
Keep on writing, loved this one.

I wonder if you also think that Danny might have killed his father. By the way till the end, I thought it was a girl.

SITARA dijjyu always come up with classic...and this one was just that...enjoyed very much. BTW dijjyu, i too used to play with dolls ...and Barbie was my favourite ... i like Barbie very much.... now also!! :D

Hey DWI, what a pleasure! Thank you! You've noticed my obsession with colors and imagery. Well, rato le mardaina, "Lekhak" le marcha! Waiting for him to reappear.

Hi Sristi, Barbie eh? I used to like stuffed animals more than dolls. Have you seen the latest collector's item barbies? Wooooooooa and the price!

Sitara Di...After soo long time...and Great story...aaru ni chandai padhna paam Guruaama...:oP
Nirman~*

sound..hmm

Here is "sounds" of a schizophrenic

पागल भनाई केहि मेटाएं लागेका दागहरु,
स्वस्थ्य हुन, दिमागमा आउने आवाज बाधा थियो !

मैले केहि भनिरहन पर्दैन जस्तो लाग्छ त्यहि पनि "प्रशंसा" को एक शब्द टकार्छु।

निर्माण, आरामसित पुगेऊ? कस्तो छ त नि नयाँ ठाममा? गफ सुनुम् न हो।

के गफ सुन्ने दादा पराया देशमा देशाँ खाएको सुकुटि सम्झंदै गाइको मासु खाँदै छु......के गर्नु र भैसिको त नपाइने रैछ दाजै!!!!!
अरु गफ पछि दितेलमा साझामा पोस्ट गरमला नि हुन्न???:)
बरु सितारा दिजुको नयाँ कथा सुनुम न हो!!!

oh ho nirman unpack garna sodera kata halli rako ani bhok lagyo bhaneko hoina? frying pan herata timro lagi somethingcha ke. :d

के हो के हो यो म्याटिसले त मलाई जिस्काउन छोड्दै छोडेन!!!!
फेरि मसंग लप सप पर्ला है भुन्द्?या छु!!
पछि पछुताउनु पर्ला!!!:P....:P

yo lop sop ko kura nagarata please ajkal darlagcha kya. :P Ani fact kura chai since when jiskauni kura bahyo ni huh? lol. jaujau khana jau. hey ruina sis nirman lai gali garata usko room hernai nahuni cha...too messy.:D

ल?ु जा!!! रुइना कसरी आयो नि यहाँ हामी बिचमा.......:P....:P
कहिले आएको नि मेरो रुममा म्याटिस???
मैले साँचो देको जस्तो त लाग्दैन हो!!!!..;)

jhut bole kauwa kate. :D

फोटु हाल्दिम यहाँ मेरो रुमको???...:D.....;)

halahala....hyaaa timi le garda mero rice nai dadyo...:(

अब डढेको खाऊ क्यान्सर बढाउ!!!....:P

यो निर्माणले के गर्ने के गर्ने मेसो नपाए जस्तो छ। सुरुमा यस्तै हो। पुष्पपुरीलाई बोलाऊ न कोठा सोठा बाडार्नलाई।

ओहो!! निर्माण जी पनि पुग्नुभो बेल्जियमतिर? सुनाउँदै गरम् है के छ त्यतातिरको हालखवर।

Hey hey Nirman, thanks for reading. I hope your studies and acclimatization are going well.

Shirishji, listening to NPR last, I realize now that scizophrenia is more prevalent than I had previously assumed. Thanks of the "sounds of the scizophrenic".

Dadaji; prasamsha garna pardaina hajur, paddhidiye matra pugcha.

DWI, I just saw your speculation that "Danny might have killed his father"---I keep wondering if Danny is capable of doing that....maybe if he was pushed to his limits.

Star Ji,

feels as fresh as lil lily on a wintery/frosty morning opening up its little petals to see the first beam of sun, whenever I read what you got to write.

Cheers!

Uhi Rajeev,
VA, Amrika

ps hope we still remember each other.

Hello Rauniyar ji:
Long time.
Thank you for your comments. Although, the subject matter is not as pretty as the picture you've painted. I remember you from Sajha screen, but have we met (since I see VA) in person?