Beginning.

22 September 2018

I am in Pitambar today, my gau-town. Well, yeah, I left Kathmandu on 19 September. I had no such hurry to come home. In fact, I was going to come after the Smart Club’s Election which was on following week. But I had to leave earlier. It is depressing to confess why I left. I don’t think I can confess here, especially if I am going to publish this in my blog. But you can imagine the worst: I did something, and my parents found out about it in the worst of the ways you can think of!

I reached home on 20^th September, but quite early this time. I usually used to be home by noon, traveling home in a night bus is one of the most time-taking things you can do; and it has become more distressing every since the night-buses have been dominated by Super-Ac Night Buses. I am not saying they aren’t deluxe, but what I am saying is, they are uncomfortable and people who travel in it are stupid, simply stupid! I don’t know why they fancy AC on the bus. It is already so gloomy with so many people and then you have all the windows shut, a deluxe-stingy-toilet behind, never-sobered middle-class men traveling with you with crying and shitting kids—a complete hell!

See, I used to love night buses, I loved them! I loved to sit by the windows, with fast-flowing breeze touching my face, with some melody going in the background, night-buses chasing each other as if it is a race you are meant to win, the glaring night-sight of the civilization—just like a movie. But now, it is suffocating! You can’t open the windows because AC is on or old-men behind thinks it is uncivilized!

This time when I traveled, it was very difficult. I couldn’t sleep; the whole bus was stinking; AC was not working well; I was precipitating all the time; the woman in front of me had laid her seat way back, so much that I had to cup my legs and hold it on the top of her seat; the woman behind was sick and injured so I couldn’t lay back my seat; even though I had opened my window, it was still humid because no other windows were open; and I had my mind filled up with how would parent react the day I will meet them—It was such a horrible trip, not a single thing good about it. Well, the man who was seated by my side was quite of a generous and friendly lad to talk with, but he wasn’t anywhere near to compensate what I was going through.

After about 18 hours of the trip, which is very short since it usually takes up to 24 or more hours, I was there home. I was scared, quite nervous yet I was trying to laugh imagining I would still be breathing no matter what. I walked in. The first thing I see after I got inside was a man sleeping in brown under-wear with the face facing down. I presumed it to be the father. Because mother had told me, he was sick, suffering from typhoid. It seems everyone in my family is ill in some sort or the other, including myself—I suffer from ill-heart, ill-intention, ill-minded and all sort of devilish crap.

So, I went to my room because I didn’t want him to encounter me just when he wakes up. After a while, I went back to his room. There I see, that wasn’t my father, but was my brother. He has grown bulky and tall! The moment he stood in front of me, I felt as if my legs were cut off six inches from the bottom. There stood a mountain in front of me.

Mother didn’t return by noon. She was in school. She came around half past twelve, I guess. She was disappointed for what I had done and was very angry. But after all she is a mother, her anger couldn’t last long. She was happy that I returned promptly after she called.

I only encountered father after 4. Mother called him. He asked me to be ready to go to Gau to my grandmother. My grandmother is very old and fragile. She is almost on her dead-bed counting her last breath. She can’t talk, can’t listen, doesn’t eat, nor drinks. She just lies on her bed all the time. Her right-side has paralyzed. Her skin is wrinkled and looks decayed. All there left is her bones and dark skin with no visible nerves. She keeps folding and unfolding her legs as if her aliveness is being hurtful.

We left from home in his bike at around 5. He was riding and I was sitting back. He was busy on his phone, we hadn’t talked till then. He was riding and busy on his phone. But as we reached half-way, he brought the talk which I feared the most. He just kept telling me things and asking me about this. I used all the diplomatic ways I ever learned to swerve away from this conversation. I had imagined worst in my mind, but in reality, it didn’t go that bad. I felt bad for what I had done.

Later that evening, we reached Gau. I spent there and saw my grand-mother suffering. I was imagining how painful it could get. I was imagining myself at her place. What would I think when I will be lying that way? Whom would I be thinking of? Will I remember my childhood, my teenage, my adulthood? Will everything that I would have achieved by then matter? I had my mind filled with questions and my heart with sympathy.

I was tired that night, so I slept early. I woke up early too the next morning. Everyone wanted me to stay in Gau for a while. But I had to return home. Because I hadn’t brought anything with myself. So, I went home yesterday. I washed my clothes. And today, I came back to Gau. I brought all the things necessary for me to spend a week or so.

A week awaits ahead. There is a lot to happen: a lot to live and write for!