That SMS…

I returned home after a stressful day at work, thinking what I should I do to freshen up my dull mind. I was more than relieved to find Somesh (name changed), my favourite cousin, at home. Seeing him happily sit on the sofa of our living room, my mood lightened. Somehow it struck to me that something really ‘happy’ was in store for me!

“Oho, how come you are here today?” I teasingly greeted him. He just gave a sheepish smile and continued ‘playing’ with his mobile phone, as almost always. I then seated myself beside him, blankly gazing at his mobile screen. It was a message he had been deeply engrossed with. Unlike what I had predicted, he wouldn’t shy away and cover the screen. In fact, he seemed to be willing to share the message with me. I decided within a matter of seconds that it must be some not-so-personal sms, a clean joke or just a beautiful greeting. When I took his cell to read the message carefully, I was stunned to find in it deep, ‘genuine’ feelings of some girl… Agl– it was how he had saved her name.

“I cudn’t receive ur cal as I was in living room. Am fine n u? plz narisau la. I love u. sleep well. I don’t hav other bf. U r the only 1. tc”

“Angel Thapa (name changed) – her full name” – he told me later.

Of course, I am not that stupid not to infer that something was certainly cooking between the two of them… the kind of look in Somesh’s eyes, the restlessness with which he was waiting for her reply, the way he tried to portray himself as a ‘grown-up’ (he is 14), the ‘hidden’ meanings that lied in her smses, his shy smile, his ‘doubtful’ confidence regarding Angel’s feelings for him, his curiosity about my love life, his logic concerning why the age factor didn’t matter in love, his ‘love-ly’ feelings… Overall, his different ‘self’… He wasn’t the same Somesh with whom I used to share cheats of different computer games. He wasn’t the Somesh who used to talk to me about books, exams and results. He wasn’t the Somesh who used to discuss with me different ways to write an essay. He wasn’t the Somesh who asked me how to get an article published in Kantipur. No, he wasn’t the same.

I was SHOCKED!

“Have I gone crazy? I am not reading what I am reading!” I told to myself. I read the same sms again and again. When I couldn’t really figure out what was going on, I signalled a “Do you know about it? Is it true?” to Suman and he just gave me a doubtful nod. I turned to Somesh and asked him if he could clarify me. He just said that whatever was in the sms was true. As mom and dad were there, I couldn’t further ‘interrogate’ him. I hated to remain in confusion but I had no choice but keep on pondering about what it all might be.

I was smiling at myself imagining weird weird things. All of a sudden I had a feeling that the time is spinning rather too fast, and I was unable to keep up with it. It feels just like yesterday that I first greeted him with the awww-he’s-so-cute expression at the hospital he was born, and now he’s got his girlfriend! How fast is that?

But, while the advancement of the life of my cousin shocked me, it also helped me realise my own state of being. The small episode of that ‘sms’ instilled in me the feelings, the emotions, the passion, the romance, the understanding that had been missing in me since a couple of months. For some reasons, I was bored of my life; I had started taking things for granted. I had actually become reckless… reckless regarding my relationship with family, friends, Sooman, my career, my books, my blog… everything. My family and specially Sooman tried to pull me back to ‘myself’, but I thought they were just being possessive. That they were trying to interfere … that they were just being unreasonable; that they didn’t understand me… blablabla… While my 'little' brother was trying his best to nurture his relationships with people, I was pulling myself away from them all. Perhaps I was so confident about them being with me all my life that I didn't make any effort to take them to new heights or maintain the same smoothness! I hope Somesh and Angel will keep up with their efforts to be together always... my wishes to them. :)

Rereading that sms, I don’t find anything so special in it. But that particular time, it hit me right at my heart, and made me promise to myself that I shall always stay close to my loved ones, never take them for granted, never consciously hurt them and never mistake them. I don’t know how much that sms mean to Somesh; for me it means ‘renaissance’.

Memories to cherish forever!

"Let me introduce you all to a new member in our team - Aruna Maden Limbu, who will be with us as an intern for two months. She is currently doing her BA 3rd year at Shepherd College of Media Technology and we are very glad that she chose VOW to nurture her skills in Journalism."

This was exactly how I had introduced Aruna to the rest of the staffs of our office during the monthly meeting when she first joined VOW last year in August. For some 'unknown' reasons, I still remember these words. It was my turn for the presentation during that particular meeting, and I had the privilege to introduce her... but even then, I didn't have the faintest idea that the VOW team was to develop such a strong bond with her in the days to come; I guess no one at VOW had thought about it...

Cheerful, frank and hard working, I specially bonded with her quite quickly because we were both quite new to VOW - I being only some five months old there. Plus, as both of us had home at a near distance from office, we left for lunch together where we shared a lot of things - sometimes personal and sometimes the office stuffs. It wasn't long before I discovered a nice human being in her. She was happy, confident, determined, and the best of all, she had a good sense of humour - she can make a joke out of the simplest thing on earth, and she spreads positive vibes all around. Aruna still has all these qualities in her. In fact, when you are with her, you will instantly feel comfortable and no matter what you are going through, you will feel that she is going to give you a 'jaadu ki jhappi' and say "Main hoon na!" with this big smile :D

That Aruna made everyone laugh and constructed a bond with anyone easily are trademarks of hers. Besides her sweet smile, her unique way of opening the door to enter our department, her reminder "oie keti ho, chiya nakhane aaja?" and the like, I am gonna terribly miss her for the following things:

1. Her unique style of sipping tea - surrrrrrrrrrrrrp! (At one point I was so addicted to her style of sipping tea that more than once while drinking tea offered by interviewees, I made that 'ridiculous' sound and made a really bad impression of my 'etiquette'... LOL

2. Her silly naughty 'gay' jokes!

3. The way she danced when she teased Choezo while saying "Tenzing le ... lai mail garyo"... (Gosh, that was one of the funniest 'live' events that ever happened to me!)

4. Her positivity - when everything seems dull, she always makes sure to bring back that confidence in all of us that things are soon going to be okay. I have hardly heard her say "It's impossible" except on some obvious cases!

Plus, there are so many simple little things that will always remind us of Aruna. I have seen in her a person who can maintain to be happy in the most difficult times; somebody who is very mature and strong headed inside and still hasn't lost her sense of wonder and still has a child in her. Aruna continued to remain as an intern with us for a whole year - and she only gave to us, without ever expecting anything.

The day before she took off, she gave us a farewell treat at Jean's Cafe. Each of us was quite emotional about the meeting, and seemingly everyone was trying to show that everything was normal. But it was not. After the same laughter, photo session, lots of masti and some additional memories to cherish, finally it was time to say bye bye. Everyone controlled their sentiments. But when we were to 'board' our tempo back to office, leaving Aruna at the Kathmandu Mall, and when we were to hug her, we could no longer pretend that everything was alright. I couldn't control myself. I hugged her and cried. I had never thought that bidding her farewell would be so painful - I hadn't wanted it to be so. We sat inside the tempo, and it moved. We were still wiping out tears, remembering all those days together. It was like letting a family member go away far from us. :(

As Sharmila di couldn't make it to the farewell treat, we decided to bid her farewell at TIA too. So early in the morning, as she was to catch the 9:30 flight Saturday morning, we went there. It was really 'pain in the ass' to enter TIA. Eva had a friend in the army and he suggested us to take a taxi inside the airport and give the number of the taxi to him. With some difficulty, seven of us adjusted ourselves into a single taxi, Eva taking the front seat with the driver. We reached the check point where a policeman asked how many of us had ticket. Noone answered. I said "Please wait a minute" and asked Eva to call her friend again. The policeman looked startled but didn't say anything, and waited. 'Network busy'... redial... 'Network busy'... after a couple of minutes, the policeman came to us again and asked what was going on. Eva uttered, "Actually we are here to see off a friend to UK." Confused, he asked, "What CF? Don't try to fool me. Until now no plane has landed from UK." He didn't understand the meaning of 'See off." The network continued to be busy until the policeman ordered the driver to take the taxi back. Just then, as the driver was about to pull the gear, Eva's friend from the other side of the phone screamed, "I have already registered the number of the taxi... just say so." Hurried, Eva fired, "Our taxi's number has been registered." Just then, the armyman who standing there said, "Why didn't you say it earlier?" and let us go... All of us yelled, as if in victory "Yeaaaaaaaaaaahhh"...

After waiting for a couple of minutes, Aruna came out of a taxi. Dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans and converse shoes, she smiled at us and suddenly tears twinkled in her eyes. She came towards us to hug each of us. And she wept. We wept - all of us did - turn by turn. It was heartbreaking to bid her farewell.

We are gonna miss you terribly Aruna dear!! VOW is gonna miss you!!! We all love you loads!!!! Thank you for everything - thanks for being there...

Memories found and lost...

(Lots of memories associated with this particular interview - it was my very first attempt in writing for the innerview section of VOW magazine. The following article was originally published in VOW magazine, May 2009 issue. You can find the link here)

Photos by: Ashesh Dangol, Senior Photographer, Speciality Media (Ashesh dai no longer works here though!)

Lamu Amatya
That she is supposedly the first trained nurse of Nepal and the mother of popular singer Yogeshwor Amatya were the only things I knew about Lamu Amatya when I was asked to interview her. I tried doing some research before actually fixing an appointment with her, but in vain. A little confused but thrilled, I called Yogeshwor Amatya. He readily agreed to arrange a meeting, but at the same time informed me that she keeps getting confused about dates and numbers as she has been suffering from Alzheimer’s disease for about six years. With his assurance that he would be present during the interview so as to correct her in case she gets the figures wrong, the meeting was fixed.

Somewhat prepared, our photographer and I reached Amatya’s residence on a sunny afternoon. Yogeshwor gladly welcomed us and asked us to wait in the garden while they had lunch. Taking sips of fresh lemonade, I started going through the questions I had prepared, while the photographer started planning where and how to capture her in the frame. For some reasons unclear to me, I was getting nervous. After learning about Lamu’s forgetfulness, I had done some research on Alzheimer’s on the net. It was scary—this condition could create problems with language, maths, abstract thinking and judgement, and even ruin one’s sense of reasoning. I silently prayed that Lamu’s was a different case—that she only had confusion with numbers, and could express everything else well.

In between, Yogeshwor gave us company and we talked about Lamu. He described how beautiful his mother was when she was young. “Men of my dad’s age who once knew her still make it a point to ask about her,” he laughed. I was already more than eager to meet her.

Finally our wait was over. Draped in a beige sari, greying hair neatly tied into a bun and a pearl necklace adding charm to her already cheerful face, Lamu Amatya came, held by one of her helpers. From a distance, I could notice that her back was slightly bent—’she is older than I have assumed,’ I thought. With a warm greeting, she sat beside me—all set for the interview. Once Yogeshwor signalled that it was okay to start, I turned on my recorder, quite unsure of what to ask; unsure of what she would reply.

Born in Darjeeling in 1932, Lamu Amatya only has a faint memory of how she spent her childhood. “When I was small, my mother passed away, but my father took very good care of me,” she began, trying hard to recall. Then her father married another woman. Much to what I had feared, Lamu doesn’t remember anything more. Even Yogeshwor isn’t sure how her experience with her family was after then. However, on the basis of what he has heard from his elders, Yogeshwor informed that Lamu’s father was a well-known personality in Darjeeling and led quite a British way of life. “Therefore, she must have been raised in a pretty British way,” he suggested. He said that she was sent to Kolkata and boardered there in a school for her studies. When asked if she always wanted to be a nurse as a child, her face, otherwise confused and lost, suddenly lit up upon hearing the word “nurse”. “When I was young, my father used to ask me what I wanted to be in life, and I used to say I wanted to study higher and higher, not knowing what I meant. I didn’t have any plans or wish to become a nurse,” she said.

After completing high school, Lamu joined Calcutta Medical College and got admitted in a staff nursing class. “It was very difficult to learn everything that was taught, but I never gave up—I tried my best and worked very hard. Every morning after waking up, and before sleeping at night, I prayed to God to shower His blessings on me, and He pretty much did,” she explained, excitedly adding that she made lots of Bengali friends at the hostel and learnt fluent Bengali.

Lamu doesn’t quite remember how her results were. Yogeshwor says he’s checked in the archive of the college and found that she had passed with good marks. Then her career in nursing began. She had already been working as a nurse when she met her husband-to-be. “He was in Kolkata for studies and had a leg injury for which he had come to the hospital I was working in.” Lamu was explaining how she had met her husband when all of a sudden she went blank and confused again. So Yogeshwor added, “As dad told me, he was very attracted to her but initially she ignored him. He would try giving her food he had brought but she would never accept them. Dad said he was also impressed when she performed a kathakali dance at a cultural show in Calcutta Medical College. He was also into drama, so he really liked her. Gradually, my dad was able to impress her and they finally fell in love, and got married in the year 1955. I guess it was one of the first inter-caste marriages of Kathmandu Valley.”

A girl of Tibetan origin getting married into an orthodox Newari family was a big challenge then. “My grandmother was very conservative but she accepted my mom as her daughter-in-law for the sake of her only son's happiness,” told Yogeshwor. When I turned to Lamu and asked how she faced those challenges and the cultural change, she shyly explained how supportive her husband had been, blushing like a new bride. Yogeshwor nodded in agreement, “My dad was very broad-minded, so he must have helped her cope with the changes very well.”

When then King Mahendra came to know that Lamu was a trained nurse, he requested her to open a nursing school, stated Yogeshwor. Therefore, she opened a Nursing School under the Ministry of Health and Population in 1956. Yogeshwor says she looked after the administration and also taught students. Sarada Shakya, one of the students of the first batch of Nursing School and now a Matron at Om Hospital and Research Centre, shared, “She was a very good tutor and loved her students very much. At the same time, she was very strict. Apart from studies, she also took care of what we ate. She used to thoroughly inspect the kitchen and dining room to check whether food being cooked and eaten was healthy or not.”

Determined to produce competent nurses for Nepal, Lamu also called in experts from Europe at her own initiative to train the nursing students, which she believes to be her biggest achievement in contributing to the nursing sector of Nepal. “The students got to learn a lot from them. I had to work as an interpreter too because some of the students didn’t understand English very well,” she proudly recalls. Lamu is the first to represent Nepal as a nurse in international conferences and seminars abroad. She even went on a cruise to America along with the royal family to take care of the queens of King Tribhuvan. One of the founding members of Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN) established in 1959, she is also the first President of Nursing Association of Nepal established with permission from the International Council of Nurses in 1961.

Confident and competent in her work as the superintendent of nursing, Lamu was paid higher than the doctors. “She got Rs 500 per month while the doctors got only Rs 300,” reports Yogeshwor. But she couldn’t continue working for long. “In 1962,” he explains, “Jana Sewa Cinema Hall was burnt down and she was blamed for it. And the government asked her to resign from her post. She did just that. I don’t know more about it, and my mom has forgotten everything.” Lamu remained a housewife ever since.

Even today, whether she is the first trained nurse of Nepal or not is a matter of controversy. Yogeshwor says they never really claimed that she was the first one. Lamu is indifferent too. “There’s no point claiming that I am the first trained nurse of Nepal. The fact that my students, who are the senior-most nurses of Nepal, still remember and say good things about me makes me happy and proud of what I did.” Lamu was felicitated by FPAN in 1997 for her special contribution in founding the association.

Favourite colour...
Red and blue

When I am free...
I read newspapers and talk to my children.

I become happy when...
I talk to my children and grandchildren. I also feel happy when I sing together with Yogeshwor.

Favourite song…
All of Yogeshwor’s songs are my favourite! I also like the song musu musu hansi deu na lai lai.

Motherhood…
Being a mother is a nice feeling. I have two sons and until today, I have always gotten whatever I have expected of them. I am a lucky mom.

The Heart of a Mother

(The following article was first published in VOW magazine, August 2009. Find the original link here)

Photos by: Sanchit Lamichhane, Photo Editor, Speciality Media

Dil Shova Shrestha,
Founder, Old Age Management Social Welfare Trust

I reach the Old Age Management Social Welfare Trust on a hot afternoon 45 minutes late thanks to the difficult traffic of the capital. I didn’t even know the exact location of the place where I was to go. Confusion only grew when the people I asked were unsure about any “old-age home” around. I inferred that Dil Shova hadn’t done much to promote her organisation. Then I call up a colleague who had been there before. “Take the narrow path just beside the Bajaj showroom at Rabibhawan,” she directed me. I finally found the path. Walking ahead, I realised that the street is so narrow that even a motorbike will struggle to make its way through. I wondered how Dil Shova handles an emergency with any of the “mothers” she looks after! After walking about 100 metres more, I saw a faded yellow building with the board: Old Age Management Social Welfare Trust (OAMSWT).

Seeing some old women, a few kids and three young ladies watching television in one of the rooms, I asked for Dil Shova. She appeared with a newspaper in her hand. “They say my photo has been published in this paper today,” she said, pointing to the Nepali daily in her hand. There it was, Dil Shova receiving a cheque of Rs 305,391 from NIC Foundation, a not-for-profit social organisation of NIC Bank. She read out the whole news story to me with considerable enthusiasm. Then, while she fed the old women, whom she refers to as “maa” (mother), she signalled me to wait. I take a seat in the TV room and casually looked around. A nicely framed poster of Mother Teresa was hanging on one of the walls. Nepali movie Karnaveer was playing on the TV. Actress Rejina Uprety’s dialogue, “Aama babule kahile pani aafna chhora-chhoriko kubhalo chitaudainan” (Parents don’t ever wish any bad thing to befall on their children) suddenly caught a moment of my attention. Then I turned away from the TV, looked at the frail old mothers watching the movie and wondered, ‘If it’s so, why do some children abandon their parents like this?’

After completing her chores for the morning, Dil Shova took me upstairs to the kitchen to avoid any disturbance during the interview. I began by asking why she hasn’t made any effort to promote the organisation. She answers, “I have always chosen to stay unnoticed. I feel that when people hear too much about anything, it will sound like propaganda to collect money. So I stay away from the media as much as possible. Instead of thinking of ways to publicise whatever little I have done, I like to keep myself focused on helping those in need.” At this old-age home, Dil Shova single-handedly takes care of 27 old mothers ranging in ages from 60 to 104 years, most of them afflicted with disabilities like visual and aural impairment, and Alzheimer’s. There are also three orphans here, two boys and a girl. “I am 56 years old and as long as I am able to do things on my own, I have no plans to hire any helper,” she says.

Born in 1953 in Thankot as the first child of her parents, Dil Shova had to quit studies after the fifth grade despite being the topper of her class because she had to look after her siblings. “Although I couldn’t continue my studies, I made sure that they were gifted with the light of education. I can proudly say that all of them are well educated and successful in their own fields of work,” she says. Then, madly in love at the age of 18, she eloped. “He was a bus conductor and was hardly in a condition to support a family. For some time, I regretted having left behind my family but then I decided that it was my responsibility to work hard and create a world of our own,” she recalls. “I passed through lots of hurdles in life but never gave up hope. Our condition was so bad that our first child, a son, died for having nothing to eat. We didn’t even have proper shelter. But my son’s death prompted my husband to work as a driver after which there was some relief. In 1973, I gave birth to a daughter. Then I learnt tailoring and knitting, and started working. I saved from my earnings, and later bought a small piece of land and even built a house!”

Her life was running smoothly until one day in 1971 when her husband left her for not giving him a son. “That was the turning point of my life,” she says. Fortunately, Dil Shova’s life was already quite well-settled and they no longer had the problem of shelter or food. Though hurt and shattered, she strived harder to give all the happiness she could to her daughter, Sabnam. Dil Shova got her daughter married in 1995 after which loneliness haunted her day and night. “I used to cry all day alone thinking that I would have had at least someone around if I had a son. I even thought my husband was reasonable in leaving me,” she recalls. “But one day, a friend told me that weeping over not having a son was rubbish. She took me to Tripureshwor to a mother of three sons, who lived in such pathetic conditions in the house where her sons lived too. Once I saw her, I no longer felt sorry for not having a son. She was old, weak, dirty, helpless and lonely.”

Dil Shova, who was always taught by her father to respect and take care of the elderly, decided to take care of the old woman, and in order to seek permission from her children, she talked to one of her sons who blamed his mother for being “selfish” and not loving her daughters-in-law. Dil Shova got the permission to take the mother under her care. “I asked maa to accept me as her daughter and she agreed. I bathed her on the very first day, cut her nails, oil-massaged her and cleaned her room. I also cooked a nice meal and served her. Both of us were so happy,” she says. Every day, Dil Shova walked from Rabibhawan to Tripureshwor to serve her maa. This continued for two years until 1997 during which time she developed companionship with five old begging women whom she daily met on the way. “I wanted to take them home. So I asked them if they would come along with me, and they easily agreed.” Dil Shova then sought permission from her maa who suggested that she first confirm that none of them were untouchables. “I lied that all of them were Shresthas so that she wouldn’t be upset,” she says. “Maa gave me the green signal but feared that I would forget her. I promised her that I would visit her every week and left.” The same day she bought five beds, pillows, mosquito nets and other requirements, and brought them home. Her only source of income then was the money she received by letting out two storeys of her house. “I also had some savings in the bank and relied upon the little interest I received from there.”

Dil Shova’s life started revolving around the lives of these old women. She served them day and night, and found immense happiness in it. “My dedication paid off when they started becoming healthier after some months. Those who were not able to walk properly due to weakness started walking with ease. Even the one with poor eyesight slowly regained her vision. This encouraged me to bring in more helpless women. Eventually, what started with five mothers in one flat expanded to 27 mothers in the whole house,” she says proudly. But the journey hadn’t been an easy one. Her neighbours and even her relatives labelled her work as “dirty” and “worthless”. They would often say: “There is no point tending to an old, dying tree. Why don’t you try nurturing young saplings instead?” Even the mothers would fight among themselves and it was quite difficult for her to deal with their temperaments. “However, I kept on marching ahead on the path I had paved for myself. I have no regrets,” she states. Dil Shova says that reading them passages from the Bible helped them understand the value of togetherness and tolerance. “Now they no longer envy one another; they live in total harmony.”

So far, Dil Shova has already taken care of more than 60 old women. “Some of them died, and I took them to aryaghaat to get their last rites performed. Each time a mother passed away, I felt deep pain. Some mothers, once they regained their health, went back to their homes or relatives,” she says. As the number of mothers grew and she hardly had a source of income, Dil Shova, upon the suggestion of a friend registered her old-age home as Old Age Management Social Welfare Trust in 2000, so that she could get funds from the government. “But it was not easy. The process was very confusing and as I didn’t have the time to visit the government office every day, I gave up on the hope of getting anything from the government. Donation of food, clothes and money by the local people, relatives and by some organisations helped me run this place somehow.”

However, after having been featured in different media, she has been getting phone calls from willing donors, ranging from the general public to NGOs and INGOs. She also acknowledges the financial as well as moral support of popular singer and social worker Ani Chhoying Dolma. Finally, even the Social Welfare Ministry donated her four lakh rupees, and gave her an opportunity to visit Japan. Today, Dil Shova also looks after orphans. While only two boys and a girl stay with her, she has arranged hostel facilities for eight orphans with the support of Paropakar School, St Xavier’s School’s Social Service Association and Bal Mandir. She has also been supporting the education of girls in villages whose parents are not in a state to provide such support.

Still strong and extremely zealous, Dil Shova plans to further expand her humanitarian activities if she gets support from the general public as well as the government. “I am certain that once I grow old, these sons and daughters will look after me and all these mothers. My daughter often calls me to remind me that after returning from US, she will help me set up a more organised old-age home,” she smiles. Unable to resist my curiosity, I ask her, “How do you feel about your husband?” Smiling shyly, she replies, “For some years, it was hard to accept that he had left me, but life went on. Today, I see that it was meant to be! If he hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have had this opportunity to serve those in need. My life would have ended serving just him. Whatever I am today, I owe it to him.”

Message to VOW readers...
Help the helpless, and teach your children the same. Respect and take care of your parents if you want to be taken care of when you reach your parents’ age. If all children learn to respect their parents, this world won’t need such old-age homes. Old age homes should shelter only those who are childless. And, if you see any old woman lying helpless and you don’t have any other option, my doors are always open. I don’t need any recommendation letter or citizenship certificate. Plus, if you want to help these mothers in anyway, you can always call me at 4274730.

And, the exam was cancelled!

(This post was written on 29 July!)

I was up by 5 am yesterday – all set to take the poetry exams. The preparation was quite good and I was really confident; so much so that I chose to take a bus instead of asking my dad to drop me at the exam centre :P I caught a mini bus and stood behind the driver as there was no empty seat. The bus was filled with students – probably on their way to their respective exam centres too. I did my best not to think about the exams at least while I travelled. Loud music was playing in the bus ‘seherki ladki… ho ho ho seherki ladki’ was the song that was playing and I was trying to divert all my attention to the song. At the same time I was looking outside to see what the previous day’s downpour had resulted in. After reaching the Bijuli bazaar bridge, I could see how the water level of the otherwise hardly flowing Dhobi Khola had increased… almost reaching the pitch level. Mom had told me the previous day that it was overflowing even through the pitch road and I had thought it was a hyperbole! So mom must have been true!

In Babarmahal, a friend got in the same bus and I was quite happy to get company. We did a little chit chat about exams. Her population paper was postponed till 30 Shrawan due to the last solar eclipse. Poetry was the first exam she was attempting this year, and she was quite excited, and a little nervous too. After a while we didn’t have anything to talk about so we just remained quiet, lost in our own worlds (probably thinking about the exams. May be trying to recall what we had prepared!)

Finally the bus reached Padma Kanya and the halt was finally meant for us. I got off, and seeing Sooman and Praveen in a corner, headed towards them. Then we did some last minute ‘exchange’ of seemingly significant stuffs, wished each other the very best, and headed towards the designated rooms. I headed for room number 43 or something, up on the third floor only to find that the room was meant only for the students of Major Nepali. Cursing my stupidity, I called up Praveen who told me that we were assigned the same room as during the first day. ‘Okay’ I said only to remember that I had forgotten where I was seated on the first day. Then I called Sooman again if he remembered my room number – Bingo, he had indeed remembered!

I ran up to the extreme left room of the ground floor to see Praveen and Prabha signaling me to sit in front of them. No seat planning was made – in fact, no one actually ‘followed’ the seat plan. Who was I to bother? I just sat in front of Praveen and Prabha – happy and relieved that at least everything was well at the end. Things were smooth after that. We still didn’t know what to expect of the questions and were unsure about how our exams would go.

Then the bell rang, a little later than the scheduled time of 7 am and question papers were distributed. I thoroughly looked at the questions – happy would be an understatement to describe how I felt. God, I was elated… The questions were so easy… I was so sure I could give my best in each and every question! I turned back and said Praveen the same – he looked positive too… And I started writing...

Group A

Qns no 1…

Answer: The given stanza has been extracted from the poem…

Just then, there was some noise outside the room, in front of the examination control office, which was adjacent to our exam hall. We could easily infer that something wrong was to happen. A girl, whom I used to see frequently at RR – meaning she was a student of my own college, opened the door of our hall and said “saathi haru k ho? Exam radda bhayeko thaha chhaina?” (Friends, don’t you know that the exam has been cancelled?) Just then, the supervisor of our room went up to her, asked her to keep quiet and leave the room, and closed the door. By then every student in the room had started to exchange glances. Something was definitely wrong. The supervisor, however, tried to convince us that nothing had happened – that just a few students were trying to protest on something.

Everyone continued writing… (My concentration was already wandering though, like I supposed everyone else’s was)

Not long after that, the noise outside grew all of a sudden, and looking around, I could read uncertainty and tension in the students’ nervous faces. I gestured Praveen, he didn’t seem to know anything more either. Our concentration was more on the noise outside than in our exam paper – seriously. At least I wasn’t sure of what I was writing. Unlike any other exam I have taken so far, I was actually making a lot of errors and had to make consistent corrections – my handwriting was awful and the exam paper looked like some rough paper. Perhaps, even an hour hadn’t passed when we learnt that the Major Nepali exams had been cancelled. Some friends of Major English had already called Praveen (yes, we can keep our mobile switched on during exams, and most of the students have cheats - noone checks them) to know if our exam was going on, for their papers were snatched away and some of their papers were even torn off in front of their own eyes… Pathetic. I was already getting a little frightened of the noise and chaos outside when the door slightly opened and I could see police lathi charging, and students running at their best speed. Still no one knew what this chaos was all about, but till then we were already quite sure that something was certainly wrong. We could clearly hear benches and desks being destroyed upstairs. And then a sudden rush of adrenaline reminded me of Sooman who was somewhere upstairs taking exams – I prayed that things were okay. So I called him, and was relieved at once to know that he was fine, taking exams!

Time and again we were asking the invigilators if we should continue writing or the exam would be cancelled. They were not sure and just said “We can’t say anything for sure. You just concentrate on your exams. No formal statement has been made as of now, so if you submit the paper and go, you might be even declared ‘fail’ if you haven’t written enough.” And it was quite true - it was already about to ring the second hour’s bell and I had only attempted 48 marks’ questions – I would obviously not pass if the exam wouldn’t be cancelled. Then the second bell rang, and I had completed 56 marks questions when two supervisors came in and declared that the exam had been cancelled.

I didn't even care to submit my answer sheet. I just walked away with my bag, met friends outside and returned home - wishing that the journalism exam (that took place today) would be cancelled too, as there was very less time for revision!

Silly musings...

I didn't expect electricity at this hour today because the schedule, which has not been 'functioning' anyways, told otherwise. So stupid of me to try to rely on it. So, I was all set to sleep, after sessions of bubble breaker competition between Geeta, Naren dai, Suman and me in Naren dai's new HDC mobile phone (I hope I am right with this name)! Noone could break my record of course! A thing to really be proud of!! Suddenly, when all was set... after we exchanged good night wishes, the UPS (thankfully) beeped, signalling that the dark hours ended. I jumped off the bed, thinking I would give shape to some (17, I would call it some though!) drafts into a blog post. Phew... I ended up writing this new one, and I am not sure if this will too pile up as a draft or actually get published.

Until a little while ago, while my computer was already on, I had this urge to go through the pages of my diaries... I flipped through some of the pages and I can already feel so 'living in the past'... I wonder why I don't write in diaries these days! I mean I do write but not as often. I noticed that one of my diaries (I have eight diaries in total) is more like a scrap book - with pictures, drawings, photos, petals, four-petalled cloves, and what not... I have a feeling that I miss those lazy days, when I used to go to college in the morning, did part time teaching and nothing much. I used to have plenty of free time then. Now, I think I am too busy. I really am envious of my past!

He who brought joy :)

That Alisha was pregnant and would give birth to a baby one day was certain, but that it would be such a lovely occasion to celebrate life was something I had never thought! Yesterday she gave birth to a baby boy - their first child - Sekhar and her very own, and that made me strangely happy.

For some reasons, I didn't want to be so much 'involved' into the whole thing, but when Sooman showed me his picture in his mobile phone today, I was tempted. He was lovely, no doubt - but there was something magical about his features - his I don't know what - that easily attracted me - that acted as 'gravity' to pull me toward him - to hold him, to give him love and smile at him. I can't exactly explain the feelings - but I know that never in the birth of anyone had I felt so elated. When my younger brother was born, I was not big enough to understand the whole thing - I was barely three years old - I was happy that my parents had given me something alive to play with, but I missed those feelings that I felt when Sooman's best friend's son was born!

Alisha, who is very young to be a mother, seemed so happy. Although the delivery was caeserian, I am sure that the bond between the mother and son will not be an inch lesser. Her hands were swollen with saline injections, and so was her body due to weakness: but she had the energy to explain what her newly born had been doing all day long to us who had reached there soon after office. Moreover, when the baby cried, she didn't even think twice before getting up to rock him in her lap. I was thinking about her fresh wound. Didn't that really hurt? Didn't the pain matter at all? That was so strange.

I thought I always hated to be a woman. I always wondered why mothers loved their children so much despite the fact that they have to bear so much of pain to welcome them to this world! I always found the idea of something alive growing inside me so creepy. But perhaps I realised it today how wonderful it is to be a mother.... to be able to give birth... to be able to give joy to everyone around. Just imagine, I am like a nobody to them... just a friend of a friend, and yet I can feel so blessed... so connected... I guess the happiness sparkling in Alisha's eyes said it all! Sort of enlightened me - that to be a woman is a blessing in itself. At least because you have the ability to create someone so adorable... whom you can't hate despite anything and everything!

I still have goosebumps all over my body when I am typing these words... I have not yet been able to forget the feeling I had when I first touched him... when I saw his 'big' open eyes... when I saw him smile :) ... when I noticed that he had those cute cute dimples... when he cried... when I took his pictures...

May God Bless him and his LUCKY parents!!