A Strenger

It is like a clock work for me to go to Kathmandu every Friday and  return on Saturday.  The road to Kathmandu from Hetauda is adventurous though painful with steep hill and slopes. Tata Sumo is the king of the road and motorcycles and other vehicles are like the guards of the king that never get chance to use road freely.

It was like I conquered an empire when I bought a Honda Shine on an installment basis a few years ago and every time I go to Kathmandu, I often ride on it. It takes me three and half hour to reach Kathmandu if there is no construction and fresh landslide on the way. There are some reasons why I prefer bike to cozy sumo. The first reason is the cost of travel that Sumo fair is 370 one way and it doubles on Saturday while returning. But motorcycle minimizes the fair since it consumes nearly five litters of petrol to both way. Moreover, I can save some taxi and micro fair during my stay in Kathmandu. The second reason is the freedom that it allows me on the way and also keeps away from human vicinity. I can piss under the bush and can drink spring water from the traditional dhara. It’s a nice experience to sip tea where I like and buy some fruits and vegetables from the local peasants.

It was December 2, 2011. I was riding from Kathmandu to Hetauda on my Honda Shine and time was 4.30 when I reached the old headquarter of Makwanpur, Bhimphedi. After I had registered my bike number at the police beat, i started moving towards my sojourn, Hetauda. At the meantime, I saw a boy giving me a hand and it didn’t take me long to understand his intention. Then , I stopped bike and gave him a lift thinking that he might be the student of +2 in any colleges in Hetauda. “ Where are you from bhai?” I asked in my usual tone. “ Bhimphedi jail”, he replied in a casual way. However, the word ‘ jail stroke on the other side of my eardrum. I regretted on my decision and thought to fell off him from the back seat. It was only the fantasy not possible in reality. ‘Why were you there in the jail?”, I questioned. I like it because I am a teacher being habituated of asking questions often. “My brother has been transferred in Bhimphedi jail from Kathmandu recently”, said he proudly. I remained quiet for five minutes. To break the silence, he asked me where I was from. I told him what I had to and drove silently. He spoke himself, “These days Dons of Kathmandu have been transferred to the remote places.” He also addressed me Dai while talking. I asked, ‘why was he arrested by the police and penalized?” “In a murder case”, he gave me easy reply. He also further reported many activities of the jailers and their relation with the famous Dons in the jail. It was all new for me to hear. One the one hand, I thought I decided right giving him a lift; therefore I got a chance to know something new. On the other hand, I was terrified thinking that he might rob me on the way at any isolated place because such incidents occurred frequently before in other places of the country. As soon as I reached Hetauda , I remembered Don Gongelez ,the principal character of the story’ Fear’ . I stopped the bike and asked him to get off. He did. He also thanked me for help and moved to the other direction without looking around. I stared at the direction of the stranger until the horizon hid him before me.