to condemn
highly educated women
who do nothing
with their education
#when will we get through
layers of our own biases?
highly educated women
who do nothing
with their education
#when will we get through
layers of our own biases?
Sunday, October 20, 2019
we argue
we argue whether
education has done ANY good
for women
when obviously
the more educated she is
the more her wings spread
and the more the people around her
will resent it and try to control her
(this is a documented trend)
we argue whether having so many
women in the governemnt
has done us any good
when some of the women
are more patriarchal than the men
and raise not a twig for women
we argue whether having women
at the top three posts in the country
has improved the lives of ordinary women
to be a #feminist
is to be always on the defensive
education has done ANY good
for women
when obviously
the more educated she is
the more her wings spread
and the more the people around her
will resent it and try to control her
(this is a documented trend)
we argue whether having so many
women in the governemnt
has done us any good
when some of the women
are more patriarchal than the men
and raise not a twig for women
we argue whether having women
at the top three posts in the country
has improved the lives of ordinary women
to be a #feminist
is to be always on the defensive
common room
life gets strangely stilted
when you are away from your
familiar surroundings
you don't know how to act
or talk or behave
the consequences of your behaviour
are not the same
socially inadequate, all of us
we wondered if
talking to new people
on social media
improved our socialising skills
oh no, i said,
it only improves your social media skills
oh no, she said
ive never even talked this much
to these people before....
when you are away from your
familiar surroundings
you don't know how to act
or talk or behave
the consequences of your behaviour
are not the same
socially inadequate, all of us
we wondered if
talking to new people
on social media
improved our socialising skills
oh no, i said,
it only improves your social media skills
oh no, she said
ive never even talked this much
to these people before....
it's foreign to me
I remember when I was very young
and came across an article about
debilitating shyness
there was a photo of three teenagers
two girls happily chatting with each other
and a boy looking from afar, wistfully,
hesitant to join
the magazine was western
all the people in it where white
i was shell shocked
how can white people in
developed, western nations
have such a mundane problem
like shyness,
which i thought only afflicted me?
we grow up believing
a host of such things about
'developed' western nations
that there is gender equality,
for example,
that men and women both work,
and equally share the housework
that if women don't like
how they are treated
they can easily divorce
and get on with their lives anew
we never heard the reset of the story
that it my not be as easy for women
as we imagine it to be
we heard the word 'system' a lot
there is a 'system' in developed nations
laws are upheld
in fact, you don't even need to
enforce the law
because the people are so lawful
crimes are punished
the government is so good
you don't starve
even if you are not employed
because you get an unemployment bonus
there is no poverty, there is no crimes
even today, the staaatistics or news
of crimes, continues to surprise many
my god!
why would they need to do that in america?
where they have everything they could ever want?
since we saw so many bikinis
we thoguht everyeone in america
is always naked
or if not, then
very fashionably and weirdly dressed
maybe the next generation won't have such images
because there are nepalis all over the world
and also becuase social media and superfast internet
makes every reality accessible
but for us,
travelling
was not so much for enjoyment
or education
but an eye opener
for long held beliefs such as these
the realisation
that people are human
all over the world
there are social problems
no matter what
and that society goes
in cycles and spirals
where one ascent
naturally leads to
other descents
and came across an article about
debilitating shyness
there was a photo of three teenagers
two girls happily chatting with each other
and a boy looking from afar, wistfully,
hesitant to join
the magazine was western
all the people in it where white
i was shell shocked
how can white people in
developed, western nations
have such a mundane problem
like shyness,
which i thought only afflicted me?
we grow up believing
a host of such things about
'developed' western nations
that there is gender equality,
for example,
that men and women both work,
and equally share the housework
that if women don't like
how they are treated
they can easily divorce
and get on with their lives anew
we never heard the reset of the story
that it my not be as easy for women
as we imagine it to be
we heard the word 'system' a lot
there is a 'system' in developed nations
laws are upheld
in fact, you don't even need to
enforce the law
because the people are so lawful
crimes are punished
the government is so good
you don't starve
even if you are not employed
because you get an unemployment bonus
there is no poverty, there is no crimes
even today, the staaatistics or news
of crimes, continues to surprise many
my god!
why would they need to do that in america?
where they have everything they could ever want?
since we saw so many bikinis
we thoguht everyeone in america
is always naked
or if not, then
very fashionably and weirdly dressed
maybe the next generation won't have such images
because there are nepalis all over the world
and also becuase social media and superfast internet
makes every reality accessible
but for us,
travelling
was not so much for enjoyment
or education
but an eye opener
for long held beliefs such as these
the realisation
that people are human
all over the world
there are social problems
no matter what
and that society goes
in cycles and spirals
where one ascent
naturally leads to
other descents
Saturday, October 19, 2019
internet
at the end of the day when
laden with hopes, dreams, frustrations,
all our life starts flashing
in front of our eyes
you feel unable to cope with
all the emotions at once
you confuse a new face
with someone you saw years ago
things get repeated
you lose direction
you are just tired and want to sleep
that is what the internet has become
overloaded with everything
in the universe
and yet, missing essential things
happy things
little forgotten niches
for humans,
the night gives rest
and you wake up with at least
a little more measure of peace
and clarity than last evening
and begin a day anew
such is the nature of the world
and yet,
the internet gets no rest
it just keeps carrying on its
old, jaded, overloaded self
over and over again
no, this was not
#meanttobe
this is not natural
this is surely the sign of the devil
something that gets no rest,
does not die when it is overloaded
and continues to grow in power every day
this evil must be exorcised and ended
and yet, i would be the last person
to give up the internet
even if it cost my life
our #dystopian world
laden with hopes, dreams, frustrations,
all our life starts flashing
in front of our eyes
you feel unable to cope with
all the emotions at once
you confuse a new face
with someone you saw years ago
things get repeated
you lose direction
you are just tired and want to sleep
that is what the internet has become
overloaded with everything
in the universe
and yet, missing essential things
happy things
little forgotten niches
for humans,
the night gives rest
and you wake up with at least
a little more measure of peace
and clarity than last evening
and begin a day anew
such is the nature of the world
and yet,
the internet gets no rest
it just keeps carrying on its
old, jaded, overloaded self
over and over again
no, this was not
#meanttobe
this is not natural
this is surely the sign of the devil
something that gets no rest,
does not die when it is overloaded
and continues to grow in power every day
this evil must be exorcised and ended
and yet, i would be the last person
to give up the internet
even if it cost my life
our #dystopian world
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
सजिलाे
कति सजिलो छ यो संसारमा
विश्वास र अास्था गुमाउन
जताजतै छ पीडा र दुःख
धोका र दुर्व्यवहार
अनि यो सबमा रमाउने मानिसहरू
बाल्यकालमा नै मानिसको
अात्मा मुर्झाउन सक्छ
यो निर्दयी संसारमा
सजिलो छ संसारसँग हार्नु
निराश हुनु
र भन्नु
मैले जति राम्रो गरेपनि
छै यो संसारमा केही अर्थ
सजिलो छ अविश्वास गर्नु
कुनै पनि सकारात्मकतालार्इ
अनि धेरै गाह्रो छ विश्वास गर्नु
प्रेममा
धेरै गाह्रो छ मनमा अाशा राख्नु
गाह्रो छ विश्वास गर्न
कि संसारमा निस्वार्थ प्रेम पनि हुन्छ
दुर्इ मानिसबीचको सम्बन्ध यस्तो
कि त्यसले सास फेर्ने माैका दिन्छ
र दिन्छ यो संसारमा अघि बढ्ने सामर्थ्य
हो गाह्रो छ, तर
अविश्वािसको सजिलो बाटो हुँदाहुँदै
उही अप्ठ्यारो बाटो रोज्नु नै
अात्माको विजय हो
the adventuress
From the way she walked and talked,
Boldly and frankly,
I could tell that she was no docile woman,
Then she told me that she was an agent,
a contractor who gathered up laborers to go work,
and it might be anywhere in India or Nepal.
One time we went to Laddakh and Karkil, she said.
Kargil? I said
Yes, karkil, where there was a war going on.
We were asked to work only in the dead of the night. We would take sacks and sacks of stuff up there
no light to guide us by
we would dump them up there
what did they contain?
oh, vegetables, fruits, rice, all sorts of supplies
because the Indian soldiers were up there
and had no other way of eating
We would walk uphill for half an hill
throw the sack of rice down
and immediately get a thousand rupees
it was on china border, that's why we got such good money, she said
we earned so much and it was so great!
the contractor had told us,
don't smoke, don't light a beedi, and don't switch on a torch
of course we obeyed, because we did not want to lose the money
there was a guy from jajarkot,
we told him so many times not to do so
but then four of us women went ahead of him
and he fell behind,
when we looked back, he wasn't there
he struck a match to light a beedi
and a bullet hit him straight in the chest
we saw him the next morning
the man down on the road
bullet in chest, and beedi and lighter in hand
Boldly and frankly,
I could tell that she was no docile woman,
Then she told me that she was an agent,
a contractor who gathered up laborers to go work,
and it might be anywhere in India or Nepal.
One time we went to Laddakh and Karkil, she said.
Kargil? I said
Yes, karkil, where there was a war going on.
We were asked to work only in the dead of the night. We would take sacks and sacks of stuff up there
no light to guide us by
we would dump them up there
what did they contain?
oh, vegetables, fruits, rice, all sorts of supplies
because the Indian soldiers were up there
and had no other way of eating
We would walk uphill for half an hill
throw the sack of rice down
and immediately get a thousand rupees
it was on china border, that's why we got such good money, she said
we earned so much and it was so great!
the contractor had told us,
don't smoke, don't light a beedi, and don't switch on a torch
of course we obeyed, because we did not want to lose the money
there was a guy from jajarkot,
we told him so many times not to do so
but then four of us women went ahead of him
and he fell behind,
when we looked back, he wasn't there
he struck a match to light a beedi
and a bullet hit him straight in the chest
we saw him the next morning
the man down on the road
bullet in chest, and beedi and lighter in hand
Sunday, October 13, 2019
money
If only I didn't have to share my coffee
with everyone who asks for it, she says
And she comes marching proudly in
with a box of sweets she has bought
with her own money from a job she joined
very very late in life, that pays her a pittance
and yet, there is nothing more important in life
than money you earn yourself, she says
as she takes a sip of the coffee
that she now will not share with anyone
because she bought it herself
with everyone who asks for it, she says
And she comes marching proudly in
with a box of sweets she has bought
with her own money from a job she joined
very very late in life, that pays her a pittance
and yet, there is nothing more important in life
than money you earn yourself, she says
as she takes a sip of the coffee
that she now will not share with anyone
because she bought it herself
सपना
तिमीलार्इ सपनामा देखेर
मलाइ लाग्ला यो संसारले
मलार्इ केही सन्देश
दिन खोजिरहेको छ
मलार्इ यो जगतका
बुझ्न सकिने र नसकिने
शक्तिहरूले भन्दैछन्
कि तिमी मेरै हो
मेरो यो सपना
कुनैदिन साँचो हुनेछ
भनेर पत्याउन पुगुँला म
तर मेरो जस्तो सपना त
तिमीलार्इ मन पराउने
सयाैंले देख्लान्
र तिमी छाै जम्मा एकजना
यो संसारले कसको सपना
पूरा गरिदेला त?
कसरी म विश्वास गराैं
अाफ्नै भावनामाथि
संसारले मलार्इ दिएका
संकेत र दिशानिर्देश माथि
जब मैेले सिकिसकें
भ्रममा फँसेका अाफ्ना
वरिपरीका मानिसबाट
म भन्न सक्छु मेरा सपना भ्रम हुन्
वा हुन् मेरो अवचेतन मनका
अव्यक्त चाहनाहरू
तर सपनालार्इ बिपना मान्नु
हुनेछ ठुलो धोका
थाहा छ मलार्इ
तर मेरो यो सपनाको संसार नै
अाज बनेको छ मीठो सत्य
मैले बनाएको सपनाको संसार
जहाँ छैन कुनै अपेक्षा
मात्र छ उनको असीमित प्रेम
मलाइ लाग्ला यो संसारले
मलार्इ केही सन्देश
दिन खोजिरहेको छ
मलार्इ यो जगतका
बुझ्न सकिने र नसकिने
शक्तिहरूले भन्दैछन्
कि तिमी मेरै हो
मेरो यो सपना
कुनैदिन साँचो हुनेछ
भनेर पत्याउन पुगुँला म
तर मेरो जस्तो सपना त
तिमीलार्इ मन पराउने
सयाैंले देख्लान्
र तिमी छाै जम्मा एकजना
यो संसारले कसको सपना
पूरा गरिदेला त?
कसरी म विश्वास गराैं
अाफ्नै भावनामाथि
संसारले मलार्इ दिएका
संकेत र दिशानिर्देश माथि
जब मैेले सिकिसकें
भ्रममा फँसेका अाफ्ना
वरिपरीका मानिसबाट
म भन्न सक्छु मेरा सपना भ्रम हुन्
वा हुन् मेरो अवचेतन मनका
अव्यक्त चाहनाहरू
तर सपनालार्इ बिपना मान्नु
हुनेछ ठुलो धोका
थाहा छ मलार्इ
तर मेरो यो सपनाको संसार नै
अाज बनेको छ मीठो सत्य
मैले बनाएको सपनाको संसार
जहाँ छैन कुनै अपेक्षा
मात्र छ उनको असीमित प्रेम
Saturday, October 12, 2019
Thursday, October 10, 2019
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
backdated
I wonder who was
your best friend growing up
Who was your first crush
and who you confided in about her
Who you would go to
If you got in trouble
And how would they rescue you
I wonder who holds the
treasure troves of your secrets
Did you ever write a diary
Or a bunch of love letters
and hand the over to someone
for safekeeping
Who were the people basking
in the sunshine of your presence
As you wove the threads of your
imaginative stories
who did you tell them to
and whose novel perspectives
did you like enough
to incorporrate into your tales
which character looks and sounds
like the people in your life?
I wonder all of this
and grow jealous
of anecdotes I will never understand
Jokes I will not find funny
People I will not recognize
Voids I will never fill
Stories that will never be told to me
Because I was not there at the right time
Sides of you that will now
never see the light of the day
and will always remain
a mystery to me
your best friend growing up
Who was your first crush
and who you confided in about her
Who you would go to
If you got in trouble
And how would they rescue you
I wonder who holds the
treasure troves of your secrets
Did you ever write a diary
Or a bunch of love letters
and hand the over to someone
for safekeeping
Who were the people basking
in the sunshine of your presence
As you wove the threads of your
imaginative stories
who did you tell them to
and whose novel perspectives
did you like enough
to incorporrate into your tales
which character looks and sounds
like the people in your life?
I wonder all of this
and grow jealous
of anecdotes I will never understand
Jokes I will not find funny
People I will not recognize
Voids I will never fill
Stories that will never be told to me
Because I was not there at the right time
Sides of you that will now
never see the light of the day
and will always remain
a mystery to me
aletheia
every image has a deep and
muti-layered meaning
connected by a network of
spider webs
to your history, future,
dreams, and secrets
if you concentrate well enough
the images in your dreams
reveal a meaning
it will come in focus
as everything else blurs out
but the meaning will be revealed
only to you
because the meaning of each image
is different for every person
Lyra has it easy,
with her aletheiometer
that comes with its own dictionary
While we mere mortals
will toil for eons
and still not arrive
at the truth
muti-layered meaning
connected by a network of
spider webs
to your history, future,
dreams, and secrets
if you concentrate well enough
the images in your dreams
reveal a meaning
it will come in focus
as everything else blurs out
but the meaning will be revealed
only to you
because the meaning of each image
is different for every person
Lyra has it easy,
with her aletheiometer
that comes with its own dictionary
While we mere mortals
will toil for eons
and still not arrive
at the truth
the hero
Yes it is fashionable to idolise the villain
Who charmingly breaks the rules
that suffocate us all
Who dares to do things
most people would quail at
Who does not keep temptations at bay
but instead indulges in them
The villain is charismatic, irresistible
And only a fool of
a cardboard character
with no imagination
would slog it all out
and be the 'good guy'
But then, true heroes are
beyond the understanding
of those beguiled by temptation
for whom hedonistic indulgence
is the only way in life
True heroes are not the boring characters
who feel no temptationbut those who have crossed this stage
with great trials and tribulations
True heroes are conquerers
who understand every phase of the journey
And decide not to stop at indulgence
where most people would
True heroes are those
who shoulder their burdens
no matter how heavy
And in doing so,
If they cannot indulge themselves.
then so be it
Who charmingly breaks the rules
that suffocate us all
Who dares to do things
most people would quail at
Who does not keep temptations at bay
but instead indulges in them
The villain is charismatic, irresistible
And only a fool of
a cardboard character
with no imagination
would slog it all out
and be the 'good guy'
But then, true heroes are
beyond the understanding
of those beguiled by temptation
for whom hedonistic indulgence
is the only way in life
True heroes are not the boring characters
who feel no temptationbut those who have crossed this stage
with great trials and tribulations
True heroes are conquerers
who understand every phase of the journey
And decide not to stop at indulgence
where most people would
True heroes are those
who shoulder their burdens
no matter how heavy
And in doing so,
If they cannot indulge themselves.
then so be it
Writing: Truthful or imaginative?
S: Only
truth in our writing sets us free. We should be as truthful as possible in our
writings.
J: But
what is truth? Harry Potter became so famous, but is it true?
R: If you
discount the dragons, Harry Potter is full of the truths of boyhood and growing
up.
J: But why
should you discount the dragons? That's what makes the story beautiful and
enjoyable.
S: Because
we take away the truth of human emotional experiences from every work of art,
that's the most important part.
R: Then
what is the truth in my story called Pareli, in which three children murder
their errant father?
S: That
contains your truthful protest of the patriarchy.
R: What
about my teenage romances?-
S: Aren't
they your longing for that kind of romantic love?
B: If you
are gonna do that sort of Freudian analysis, you are going to find that truth
in everything!
R: But you
cannot do that, because the writer dies after he or she creates the work of
art. The truth of the art lies in whatever the viewer makes of it, not in the
artist's psychological traumas.
Y:That is
not true. No matter what you write, your self is reflected in it. Even if you
try to deceive, that deception is also a part of you.
J: Indeed
there is no such thing as imagination. You cannot imagine things you don't
know. If if you try to imagine figures in a cloud, you will only see things you
already know.
L: But we
need to be imaginative in art, or else art gets boring!
Little (men and) women
Every time we went to Damak, there was something new happening there.
To those who lived there, perhaps time passed slowly, and they did not realise how things changed every day.
To those of us who went there only once or twice a year, things were radically different every time.. .
**
Most years we had a swing, which Mailobuwa lovingly constructed out of bamboos and ropes the courtyard. We took turns on it, ten times per person. Because she was youngest, Bina got an extra turn called 'fau.' But sometimes that was not enough for her, and Mailobuwa had to build her her own swing, below the wooden staircase. There she swung all day, pouting at us and proud of her private luxury.
**
One of our favourite things to do was play ludo. In the day time we played extremely physical sports like gola or football, but night times were our favourite as the dusk set in, and we tried to drive away the evening melancholia with games. We would get out the old, battered ludo boards and tinkering little dices. we would roll the dice for hours and watch as our gotis climbed up ladders and down snakes. We would debate which way the goti would go if it slid down, right or left. We would debate if the goti gets to go home if it scores 100+ marks, or if it should be exactly hundred. Four of us could play this game, and there were sometimes 5, and sometimes 7-8 of us. Bina mostly stayed out because she was too busy being pyauli with hajurama, and otherwise all of us played this at once.
Maybe we liked even better the other game, where only four players could play. We chose our favourite colours with care, and then strategised for hours about how to get all four gotis home. Again, we debated if we the goti could come out of home at one, or six, or both. We debate if you get a second turn at one, or six, or both. We debated if the goti could be killed at a star, or could only be delayed. Since only four people could play this, sometimes two people teamed up and played against others. And then the two would form alliances with two more, to strategise: hey, don't kill my goti, let it pass and ill let yours go too. And then inevitably, one of them would break the alliance and chase up and kill the other goti, leading to betrayal and revenge. JUST when things were getting terribly exciting and all four teams were in a position to either go home or kill each other or both, we would hear LOUD yells. "CHILDREN! THAT'S ENOUGH FOR THE DAY! PACK AND UP GO TO SLEEP!"
And no, there was no arguing with this voice, no snooze period. Off we went, with promises of a more epic game tomorrow.
The next day, old grievances were forgiven and new alliances were made, as if no betrayals had happened, and only great fun was had by everyone.
Once, I tried to take a ludo board form Kathmandu to Damak. Everyone told me not to do so, because it would get lost or damaged or whatever. I agreed reluctantly, but shoved it inside my sweater anyways. I felt it inside me until halfway. After that, I don't remember when I fell asleep and it dropped out of my front.
**
We could also go on for hours and hours on byapari, which grown ups never understood. Looking back, I don't think we fully understood the rules of Hindi-translated monopoly, our game was much shorter than the actual monopoly would have been, but I am guessing we had more fun. On and on we would calculate little loans, moneys, bankruptcies, buy homes and hotels and what nots, with one person becoming the bank, and doling out loans, and others becoming merchants. Our hisab-kitab was crystal clear to us, but any adult who tried to get in edgeways was confused and bamboozled and soon walked out dazed.
**
Another favourite game of ours was to build a house. We would gather little sticks, bundles of dirty hay that had no more use, and weave them together to build a house in the courtyard. We would cover it up with a piece of unused cloth, or a tarpaulin, or maybe with woven sticks and hay. Sometimes we got overly ambitious and started plucking out fresh hay from the stack, or even fresh rice stalks from the fields. That was when we got yelled at and chased all over the fields.
But always we finished building a little structure that we took great pride in. Often, it would fit only one person. Sometimes, it could accommodate us only if we were crouched or lying down. We would bring in a mat and sit inside anyways, proceed to have our khaja there and play the usual games. Sometimes if we disagreed, this too was split up into two gangs and we made two houses, but all was well in the end as we visited each others' homes.
One time I remember, we made a grand house in the backyard where EVERYONE could fit comfortably and luna didi even brought some gobar and did the lip-pot and beautified the entrance with a walkway and flowers. We played games there and I distinctly remember spending the day reading Maha ko drama anthology. The very night, unseasonal Dashain rains came thundering down, and the next morning only the ruins of our house remained.
One time, Jayraj and Ashish took it in their heads to stay in the house at night. The adults tried to dissuade them, but the boys were adamant. Finally, the adults had no option but to let them sleep there. But very soon the boys came in running, saying a ghost in a brown bora scared them. We would know only many years later that the 'ghosts' were our uncles in matching brown sacks!
**
As we grew older, our games got more elaborate. They were no more just play, they had mysterious meanings, connected to our lives. We obsessively played FLAMES, where each letter stood for a word (Friendship, Love, Affection, Marriage, Enemies, and Sisters). This game we played to figure out what kind of relationship we would have with our crush. Often the crush was an unattainable star. Even better for our imagination. This game we played by writing down the names of both the people concerned - this of course could have endless variations if one was dissatisfied with the results - one could have just the first names, first names plus last names, nick names, etc etc. Any matching alphabets were canceled out. The remaining alphabets were counted. Then number was taken to FLAMES, and alphabets canceled out one by one. For example, if you got 6, you would count F L A M E S, and cancel out S (sisterhood gone, phew!), and continue canceling out until you had only one left.
Not satisfied with the half a dozen options that FLAMES gave, I invented something. In fact, I don't remember if I invented it or borrowed the idea from somewhere. Anyhow, I did come up with the
options to write out, because I was not satisfied with the original ones. It was similar to FLAMES, except we came up with all the permutations of 0, 1 and 2, from 000 to 222. Each number had a meaning beside it. "This is your dream," or "this person hates you," etc etc. Our creativity was endless. We invented many stories about your crushes from these games, which, I guess, were a form of wish fulfillment.
Finally, we came across the Ouija Board, which was the ultimate in terms of story telling and wish fulfillment options. At the time, we did not know it was called Ouija Board. In fact, I don't even know how it infiltrated our gang. But someone told us about this practice of bhoot bolaune or summoning the spirits. We had to have a board (no sooner was it said than we made it, ourselves), which had all the letters of the alphabet, and numbers, and yea and no, around it. We had to have a candle, and a mysterious summoning atmosphere. Then we would have to place a coin there. With two people's fingers on the coin, we would ask a bhoot to come. And then, any question we asked, the bhoot would answer it, by moving the coin to the appropriate letters.
I, the young skeptic who had read the story of Houdini and thereafter vowed to not believe in any ghosts or spirits or anything from out of the world, of course scoffed at this new device. But I would not be left out of the fun. I put my finger on the coin along with one other person, and very soon it moved. I was forced to admit that some mysterious spirit was moving it, when of course I knew that the other person was moving it (it was obvious, for example, when the other person asked the question - do you know anyone who has a crush on me, and the answer moved to - 'yes'). Annoyed, I tried to tug it to 'No', and the ruse was nearly broken with a tug of war in a distinctively non-spiritual way. Still, it managed to yield us may hours of fun and got us to share many secrets of the teenage heart.
**
One game we never tired of was quizzes. We took turns to devise quizzes - scouring general knowledge books and magazines, and coming up with several rounds of questions for gangs. Sometimes Richa and I spent months devising the quizzes - making up questions from all the current affairs magazines and history books we read. We prepared and played with such sincerity that older relatives who wanted to mock us were baffled, and we truly dazzled each other with our research, dedication and competitive spirit. This was very unlike byapari, where people would steal money from the bank all the time, and also unlike ludo, where everyone was always looking for loopholes to win fast.
Usually, we had one or two questioners, and the participants divided into two groups. When Richa made the quizzes, Bina was the assistant, and we harassed her quite a lot by getting the assistant to bring us water. We had not expected Bina to do much of a quiz, but she surprised us all by coming up with quite standard questions when it was her turn to ask. Yes, we had prizes, some notebooks and chocolates in the end. By the end, we were always proud of how much we had learnt and how well we had played!
Coming to prizes, one year we decided to play a new game: lottery. We made some lottery tickets (by hand), 'sold' it to adults and collected money, and bought some prizes. The trick was to have high-value prizes for some people, low value prizes for some others, and no prizes for a majority of people. I don't think we kept any profits. It all went well, except that hajurba looked so very sad that he won nothing, that we manipulated things and gave him a high value prize which left another person high and dry. And the manipulation, of course, was done clumsily in front of everyone, and let's just say that people were not pleased! Everyone criticized us for leaving some people with nothing, and they suggested we give everyone at least one chocolate or something. I don't think we ever played it again!
**
One thing that continued to surprise us every year was that there was always SOME thing new going on in Damak, a current zeitgeist that was only there on that particular moment, and would be lost and forgotten the next time we went. One time, for example, I went and found radios everywhere. All over the house, there were radios. Some big, some small, one that was a perfect black cube and had no visible featured to turn it off and on, one that was bulky and had the old mechanical dials to turn the volume, ordinary battery charged medium sized ones, one walkman, one tiny one, etc. And it was not as if radios were a novelty, that was an era when televisions had already entered our home, so there was no need for so many radios. Nor were people were greedy for their private devices by then. But mysteriously, every corner I turned and every blanket I lifted, there would be a radio. When I asked everyone for the reason, there was none. And the next time I went, they had all mysteriously disappeared, just as they came.
One year, everyone would be learning crochet and making crochet bracelets and table covers. Another year, everyone would be fashioning roses out of ribbons and framing them. Another year, everyone made flower vases out of nylon rods. Another year everyone wore the same blouses or hairstyles. One year people had decided to revive the craft of their mothers, bringing out embroidery design booklets and cross stitching birds and flowers on pillow covers, canvas frames, and nanglos. I learnt whatever was in fashion at the moment of my stay (yes, I know how to crochet and cross stitch, though I don't do it anymore). Bina learnt each and every thing that came her way, we still have her framed roses on the wall. And yes, mysteriously, all of them would be gone the next year.
The trends also encompassed words. Every year we went, we encountered strange new words - bittak, for example ('big talk' said really fast), or tyas tyas (as in तँलाइ के को ट्याँस ट्याँस)। Like other physical trends, they too were heard only that one year, and if you tried to continue the conversation next year, people looked at you strangely as if you were speaking Greek.
The most mysterious and hilarious of these trends is something I call 'amoeba water.' Someone had put, what I can only imagine, was an amoeba or paramecium or whatever, in water, and the thing, let's call it amoeba, would grow and divide itself into two in a week or so. It was claimed that drinking a cup of this water every day in the morning and evening could cure all sorts of ailments. So people kept this amoeba in glasses, jars, and sometimes big buckets and wide tubs (normally reserved for washing clothes). And if the amoeba had "children," they could share it with others in need. The amoeba itself was brownish in colour and scaly, and looked like sponge, or like poofy mushrooms. The amoeba water was similarly murky and brown, and gave off a decidedly horrible smell. People who drank it were not immune to the smell, and advised you to pinch your nose tightly as you drank.
Even as I stared in disbelief at this unusual phenomenon, which was stored in a big washing tub in our courtyard, one person after another who visited us spoke of its benefits in glorious terms. A neighbourhood woman said she had been cured of gastritis that had been ailing her for years, and an uncle said he was even cured of cancer! Someone said she did not need to operate on kidney stones because the water had washed them all away! Sugar, pressure, arthritis, joint pain, kidney stones, everything became a minor ailment now, for this drink that could easily cure cancer!
Strangely, this was one of the few Damak trends that followed me everywhere. When I went to Dhankuta Muwa was singing the same glorious songs about it, and when I came back to Kathmandu someone came to gift buwa a bottle of this amoeba water, in a specially crafted cylinder made of the finest bamboo. It was all I could do to not gag when the cylinder was opened. Of course, my father's diabetes was not cured by this magic potion.
Mysteriously, on my next visit to Damak the amoeba water was nowhere to be seen, and the people who had claimed to be cured by it had all got their ailments back. If you ask them what happened to the amoeba, people grew vague and stared into the distance with glazed eyes, and some people had even forgotten that such a thing had once existed!
One thing that did not change from one year to the next was the 'Top Ten' of Nepali filmy songs on TV. We watched so little TV at home that everything we watched in Damak was new to us. (There was always something new going on with the TV at Damak, which is another full story in itself. For example one year it was hit by lightening and the volume was always super loud and could not be turned down, so it was ALWAYS wrapped up in thick layers of sirak.) So we always watched the top ten of Nepali film songs religiously. One year, the songs of the film Aago was at number 7, going up on the charts. The next year again it was on number 7, this time going down on the charts. This was perhaps a note not on Damak but on Nepali cinema then - so few movies were made that they stayed on the charts for a year!
**
Of course our fun and games were not always idyllic, and there were rivalries and jealousies and gangs - as easily broken as they were made, and different combinations and permutations of it made and remade every day. I will never be allowed to forget that I was once a part of a gang called Shri Luna Bhattarai. Because, apparently, the others were a part of a gang called RAJA (Richa, Ashish, Jayraj, Arvind), so we who were left out named ourselves Shri Luna Bhattarai made from the initials (S, L, B) of those of us who were left out (Sewa, Luna, Bina). Till today I refuse to believe that such a ridiculous name existed, while the other gang continues to insist that it did! Well, the truth is now forever buried in the annals of time, and will not be unearthed! (Or I will not let it!)
After our Ludo games were (forcibly) ended, we all went to sleep on the same bed - sideways. yes, we all fit there, until we were too big. One thing that bothers me till now is that the grownups stayed up much later than we did, talking and eating mysterious things, and in the wooden house with porous borders, we always heard mysterious traces of their guffs, and mysterious crackles of food. Sometimes they would throw down wrappers of junk foods or covers of food or whatever it was into our room, and I was left wondering what delicious things those cruel grown ups must be eating all alone!
Any how, in the morning it was blissful to wake up in a gaggle of arms and legs, complain about who was pinching whom at night, and talk until we woke up properly. We were forbidden to wake up too early (I don't know why, maybe so that we don't disturb the adults in their works?), and we were ordered to stay in bed until the Jay Kali bhajan played on radio. Those blissful hours more than made up for the wrongs of last night, and we got ready for another day of gola, football, quiz, and ludo.
**
Arvind. Luna. Jayraj. Sewa. Ashish. Richa. Bina.
To those who lived there, perhaps time passed slowly, and they did not realise how things changed every day.
To those of us who went there only once or twice a year, things were radically different every time.. .
**
Most years we had a swing, which Mailobuwa lovingly constructed out of bamboos and ropes the courtyard. We took turns on it, ten times per person. Because she was youngest, Bina got an extra turn called 'fau.' But sometimes that was not enough for her, and Mailobuwa had to build her her own swing, below the wooden staircase. There she swung all day, pouting at us and proud of her private luxury.
**
One of our favourite things to do was play ludo. In the day time we played extremely physical sports like gola or football, but night times were our favourite as the dusk set in, and we tried to drive away the evening melancholia with games. We would get out the old, battered ludo boards and tinkering little dices. we would roll the dice for hours and watch as our gotis climbed up ladders and down snakes. We would debate which way the goti would go if it slid down, right or left. We would debate if the goti gets to go home if it scores 100+ marks, or if it should be exactly hundred. Four of us could play this game, and there were sometimes 5, and sometimes 7-8 of us. Bina mostly stayed out because she was too busy being pyauli with hajurama, and otherwise all of us played this at once.
Maybe we liked even better the other game, where only four players could play. We chose our favourite colours with care, and then strategised for hours about how to get all four gotis home. Again, we debated if we the goti could come out of home at one, or six, or both. We debate if you get a second turn at one, or six, or both. We debated if the goti could be killed at a star, or could only be delayed. Since only four people could play this, sometimes two people teamed up and played against others. And then the two would form alliances with two more, to strategise: hey, don't kill my goti, let it pass and ill let yours go too. And then inevitably, one of them would break the alliance and chase up and kill the other goti, leading to betrayal and revenge. JUST when things were getting terribly exciting and all four teams were in a position to either go home or kill each other or both, we would hear LOUD yells. "CHILDREN! THAT'S ENOUGH FOR THE DAY! PACK AND UP GO TO SLEEP!"
And no, there was no arguing with this voice, no snooze period. Off we went, with promises of a more epic game tomorrow.
The next day, old grievances were forgiven and new alliances were made, as if no betrayals had happened, and only great fun was had by everyone.
Once, I tried to take a ludo board form Kathmandu to Damak. Everyone told me not to do so, because it would get lost or damaged or whatever. I agreed reluctantly, but shoved it inside my sweater anyways. I felt it inside me until halfway. After that, I don't remember when I fell asleep and it dropped out of my front.
**
We could also go on for hours and hours on byapari, which grown ups never understood. Looking back, I don't think we fully understood the rules of Hindi-translated monopoly, our game was much shorter than the actual monopoly would have been, but I am guessing we had more fun. On and on we would calculate little loans, moneys, bankruptcies, buy homes and hotels and what nots, with one person becoming the bank, and doling out loans, and others becoming merchants. Our hisab-kitab was crystal clear to us, but any adult who tried to get in edgeways was confused and bamboozled and soon walked out dazed.
**
Another favourite game of ours was to build a house. We would gather little sticks, bundles of dirty hay that had no more use, and weave them together to build a house in the courtyard. We would cover it up with a piece of unused cloth, or a tarpaulin, or maybe with woven sticks and hay. Sometimes we got overly ambitious and started plucking out fresh hay from the stack, or even fresh rice stalks from the fields. That was when we got yelled at and chased all over the fields.
But always we finished building a little structure that we took great pride in. Often, it would fit only one person. Sometimes, it could accommodate us only if we were crouched or lying down. We would bring in a mat and sit inside anyways, proceed to have our khaja there and play the usual games. Sometimes if we disagreed, this too was split up into two gangs and we made two houses, but all was well in the end as we visited each others' homes.
One time I remember, we made a grand house in the backyard where EVERYONE could fit comfortably and luna didi even brought some gobar and did the lip-pot and beautified the entrance with a walkway and flowers. We played games there and I distinctly remember spending the day reading Maha ko drama anthology. The very night, unseasonal Dashain rains came thundering down, and the next morning only the ruins of our house remained.
One time, Jayraj and Ashish took it in their heads to stay in the house at night. The adults tried to dissuade them, but the boys were adamant. Finally, the adults had no option but to let them sleep there. But very soon the boys came in running, saying a ghost in a brown bora scared them. We would know only many years later that the 'ghosts' were our uncles in matching brown sacks!
**
As we grew older, our games got more elaborate. They were no more just play, they had mysterious meanings, connected to our lives. We obsessively played FLAMES, where each letter stood for a word (Friendship, Love, Affection, Marriage, Enemies, and Sisters). This game we played to figure out what kind of relationship we would have with our crush. Often the crush was an unattainable star. Even better for our imagination. This game we played by writing down the names of both the people concerned - this of course could have endless variations if one was dissatisfied with the results - one could have just the first names, first names plus last names, nick names, etc etc. Any matching alphabets were canceled out. The remaining alphabets were counted. Then number was taken to FLAMES, and alphabets canceled out one by one. For example, if you got 6, you would count F L A M E S, and cancel out S (sisterhood gone, phew!), and continue canceling out until you had only one left.
Not satisfied with the half a dozen options that FLAMES gave, I invented something. In fact, I don't remember if I invented it or borrowed the idea from somewhere. Anyhow, I did come up with the
options to write out, because I was not satisfied with the original ones. It was similar to FLAMES, except we came up with all the permutations of 0, 1 and 2, from 000 to 222. Each number had a meaning beside it. "This is your dream," or "this person hates you," etc etc. Our creativity was endless. We invented many stories about your crushes from these games, which, I guess, were a form of wish fulfillment.
Finally, we came across the Ouija Board, which was the ultimate in terms of story telling and wish fulfillment options. At the time, we did not know it was called Ouija Board. In fact, I don't even know how it infiltrated our gang. But someone told us about this practice of bhoot bolaune or summoning the spirits. We had to have a board (no sooner was it said than we made it, ourselves), which had all the letters of the alphabet, and numbers, and yea and no, around it. We had to have a candle, and a mysterious summoning atmosphere. Then we would have to place a coin there. With two people's fingers on the coin, we would ask a bhoot to come. And then, any question we asked, the bhoot would answer it, by moving the coin to the appropriate letters.
I, the young skeptic who had read the story of Houdini and thereafter vowed to not believe in any ghosts or spirits or anything from out of the world, of course scoffed at this new device. But I would not be left out of the fun. I put my finger on the coin along with one other person, and very soon it moved. I was forced to admit that some mysterious spirit was moving it, when of course I knew that the other person was moving it (it was obvious, for example, when the other person asked the question - do you know anyone who has a crush on me, and the answer moved to - 'yes'). Annoyed, I tried to tug it to 'No', and the ruse was nearly broken with a tug of war in a distinctively non-spiritual way. Still, it managed to yield us may hours of fun and got us to share many secrets of the teenage heart.
**
One game we never tired of was quizzes. We took turns to devise quizzes - scouring general knowledge books and magazines, and coming up with several rounds of questions for gangs. Sometimes Richa and I spent months devising the quizzes - making up questions from all the current affairs magazines and history books we read. We prepared and played with such sincerity that older relatives who wanted to mock us were baffled, and we truly dazzled each other with our research, dedication and competitive spirit. This was very unlike byapari, where people would steal money from the bank all the time, and also unlike ludo, where everyone was always looking for loopholes to win fast.
Usually, we had one or two questioners, and the participants divided into two groups. When Richa made the quizzes, Bina was the assistant, and we harassed her quite a lot by getting the assistant to bring us water. We had not expected Bina to do much of a quiz, but she surprised us all by coming up with quite standard questions when it was her turn to ask. Yes, we had prizes, some notebooks and chocolates in the end. By the end, we were always proud of how much we had learnt and how well we had played!
Coming to prizes, one year we decided to play a new game: lottery. We made some lottery tickets (by hand), 'sold' it to adults and collected money, and bought some prizes. The trick was to have high-value prizes for some people, low value prizes for some others, and no prizes for a majority of people. I don't think we kept any profits. It all went well, except that hajurba looked so very sad that he won nothing, that we manipulated things and gave him a high value prize which left another person high and dry. And the manipulation, of course, was done clumsily in front of everyone, and let's just say that people were not pleased! Everyone criticized us for leaving some people with nothing, and they suggested we give everyone at least one chocolate or something. I don't think we ever played it again!
**
One thing that continued to surprise us every year was that there was always SOME thing new going on in Damak, a current zeitgeist that was only there on that particular moment, and would be lost and forgotten the next time we went. One time, for example, I went and found radios everywhere. All over the house, there were radios. Some big, some small, one that was a perfect black cube and had no visible featured to turn it off and on, one that was bulky and had the old mechanical dials to turn the volume, ordinary battery charged medium sized ones, one walkman, one tiny one, etc. And it was not as if radios were a novelty, that was an era when televisions had already entered our home, so there was no need for so many radios. Nor were people were greedy for their private devices by then. But mysteriously, every corner I turned and every blanket I lifted, there would be a radio. When I asked everyone for the reason, there was none. And the next time I went, they had all mysteriously disappeared, just as they came.
One year, everyone would be learning crochet and making crochet bracelets and table covers. Another year, everyone would be fashioning roses out of ribbons and framing them. Another year, everyone made flower vases out of nylon rods. Another year everyone wore the same blouses or hairstyles. One year people had decided to revive the craft of their mothers, bringing out embroidery design booklets and cross stitching birds and flowers on pillow covers, canvas frames, and nanglos. I learnt whatever was in fashion at the moment of my stay (yes, I know how to crochet and cross stitch, though I don't do it anymore). Bina learnt each and every thing that came her way, we still have her framed roses on the wall. And yes, mysteriously, all of them would be gone the next year.
The trends also encompassed words. Every year we went, we encountered strange new words - bittak, for example ('big talk' said really fast), or tyas tyas (as in तँलाइ के को ट्याँस ट्याँस)। Like other physical trends, they too were heard only that one year, and if you tried to continue the conversation next year, people looked at you strangely as if you were speaking Greek.
The most mysterious and hilarious of these trends is something I call 'amoeba water.' Someone had put, what I can only imagine, was an amoeba or paramecium or whatever, in water, and the thing, let's call it amoeba, would grow and divide itself into two in a week or so. It was claimed that drinking a cup of this water every day in the morning and evening could cure all sorts of ailments. So people kept this amoeba in glasses, jars, and sometimes big buckets and wide tubs (normally reserved for washing clothes). And if the amoeba had "children," they could share it with others in need. The amoeba itself was brownish in colour and scaly, and looked like sponge, or like poofy mushrooms. The amoeba water was similarly murky and brown, and gave off a decidedly horrible smell. People who drank it were not immune to the smell, and advised you to pinch your nose tightly as you drank.
Even as I stared in disbelief at this unusual phenomenon, which was stored in a big washing tub in our courtyard, one person after another who visited us spoke of its benefits in glorious terms. A neighbourhood woman said she had been cured of gastritis that had been ailing her for years, and an uncle said he was even cured of cancer! Someone said she did not need to operate on kidney stones because the water had washed them all away! Sugar, pressure, arthritis, joint pain, kidney stones, everything became a minor ailment now, for this drink that could easily cure cancer!
Strangely, this was one of the few Damak trends that followed me everywhere. When I went to Dhankuta Muwa was singing the same glorious songs about it, and when I came back to Kathmandu someone came to gift buwa a bottle of this amoeba water, in a specially crafted cylinder made of the finest bamboo. It was all I could do to not gag when the cylinder was opened. Of course, my father's diabetes was not cured by this magic potion.
Mysteriously, on my next visit to Damak the amoeba water was nowhere to be seen, and the people who had claimed to be cured by it had all got their ailments back. If you ask them what happened to the amoeba, people grew vague and stared into the distance with glazed eyes, and some people had even forgotten that such a thing had once existed!
One thing that did not change from one year to the next was the 'Top Ten' of Nepali filmy songs on TV. We watched so little TV at home that everything we watched in Damak was new to us. (There was always something new going on with the TV at Damak, which is another full story in itself. For example one year it was hit by lightening and the volume was always super loud and could not be turned down, so it was ALWAYS wrapped up in thick layers of sirak.) So we always watched the top ten of Nepali film songs religiously. One year, the songs of the film Aago was at number 7, going up on the charts. The next year again it was on number 7, this time going down on the charts. This was perhaps a note not on Damak but on Nepali cinema then - so few movies were made that they stayed on the charts for a year!
**
Of course our fun and games were not always idyllic, and there were rivalries and jealousies and gangs - as easily broken as they were made, and different combinations and permutations of it made and remade every day. I will never be allowed to forget that I was once a part of a gang called Shri Luna Bhattarai. Because, apparently, the others were a part of a gang called RAJA (Richa, Ashish, Jayraj, Arvind), so we who were left out named ourselves Shri Luna Bhattarai made from the initials (S, L, B) of those of us who were left out (Sewa, Luna, Bina). Till today I refuse to believe that such a ridiculous name existed, while the other gang continues to insist that it did! Well, the truth is now forever buried in the annals of time, and will not be unearthed! (Or I will not let it!)
After our Ludo games were (forcibly) ended, we all went to sleep on the same bed - sideways. yes, we all fit there, until we were too big. One thing that bothers me till now is that the grownups stayed up much later than we did, talking and eating mysterious things, and in the wooden house with porous borders, we always heard mysterious traces of their guffs, and mysterious crackles of food. Sometimes they would throw down wrappers of junk foods or covers of food or whatever it was into our room, and I was left wondering what delicious things those cruel grown ups must be eating all alone!
Any how, in the morning it was blissful to wake up in a gaggle of arms and legs, complain about who was pinching whom at night, and talk until we woke up properly. We were forbidden to wake up too early (I don't know why, maybe so that we don't disturb the adults in their works?), and we were ordered to stay in bed until the Jay Kali bhajan played on radio. Those blissful hours more than made up for the wrongs of last night, and we got ready for another day of gola, football, quiz, and ludo.
**
Arvind. Luna. Jayraj. Sewa. Ashish. Richa. Bina.
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