On the way to Burtibang

                            On the Way

My father, cousin and I boarded on a bus from Raksay to Burtibang at 8 am. It was a night bus from kathmandu. Half of the seats were vacant so that we got the seat without any rush. It was my first time visit to Burtibang. On the way, we saw beautiful paddy fields, serpentine revers, breathtaking hills, and river basins. We could see the flags of the political parties furling on the rooftops of almost every houses. It was a rocky and difficult road, and bus occupied all  full size of the road. I had been to Khara bazar before, but further of it was a new place. After crossing Khara Bazar, we smelled Khala, Bhimgithe and other small villages before Burtibang. Most of the houses were made up of mud and stone with tin roofs. Only a few houses were made up of RCC with the shutters having small shops. They were selling Chinese mobiles, clothes and dolls. Many of them were taverns,  and they were selling homemade  liquor, jeri, and sukuties. 

Around 11 am, we reached Burtibang. Before we got off the bus, I craned my head and watched the site. I saw a large building. One of the passenger told me that it was a boarding school. The place called Tulsi Nagar. It's said that Comrade Tulsi Aryal bought all the land during Maoist revolution and later planned for the plots for the housing. He named Tulsi Nagar after his name. Mr Aryal was the candidate of Maoist for the constitution assembly from Baglung Area no. 3. He was in Janamorcha Nepal during the time of Revolution, but later he quit Janamorch and switched to the Maoist. So some people called him opportunist.

Bus stopped at Burtibang Baspark. It was not well managed but workable in a small town like Burtibang. We had to go to District Administration office. So, we climbed the stone steps for a minute and walked along the cobbled lane towards the office. The office was on the road a people were standing on the road. I looked at the counter. There were four officers squeezed by the crowd. If were there, I would be suffocated. I pushed a few men and reached to the counter. A young man with white shirt and black pant was writing on the cards. He was requesting people to stay out. But no one was listening him. I said, " excuse me". He didn't look at me. I inquired what I should do to make a citizenship card. Everyone who was standing there suggesting me. Next to him was another officer wearing blue check shirt. He had a puffy round face and short black hair. I heard some people calling him Tanka ji. He was speaking roughly to the people while distributing the cards. 

Even he openly asked to bring  five Apple cane juice to a man looked like humble while giving him the card. It's a kind of bribe. But his confidence showed that he was not doing any wrong. 

I pasted the 10 rupees ticket on the form and registered. But the officer asked a few questions to my father. Then we waited for the other process while making the citizen card.

It took nearly 5 hours to make the final copy of the card. If I didn't persuade the chief officers to sign our card breaking the queue, we had to stay Burtibang because we wouldn't get it till 5 pm. Then I thanked the officers and walked to the bus park. There was a bus about to leave. It was the night bus from Burtibang to Butwal. We got on the bus. No seats were vacant. I asked my father to stay at  front and we went back. First, we sat on the last seat. Soon, passengers with tickets came to the same seat. We stood. It was really a hell to stand at the passage. Most of the passengers had already drank and smelled like hell. All of them smell of liquor, buffalo, goat, chicken, fire smoke, children's litters, grass, cow dung, roots of the plants etc. My head began to ache. Jyoti was also standing with great difficulty. She sat several times on the seat but each time ticket holders made her stand.

Finally, I arrived Raksay around 7 pm.

A Poem

Sirmu ko Rukh ( A Tree of Sirmu)

You are standing like a hill

For ages and ages 

Bearing storm, heat, and snow

Without moving an inch

Oozing the water from the roots.

You protected me from the heat 

Spreading your arms

I hid under you to save me from the storm

I could see you from the distance

With the eyes full of tears.

Before we harvested the crops 

We offered you the first bite 

When the  evils casted the black magic

We offered you a cock

For the protection of the life and crops.

You were standing like a guard

Looking like a star

My grand grand parents worshipped you

For your favour everywhere 

You were brave and kind.

I am here to hug you with my arms

Cuddle you with my palms

Forgive me, I couldn't take you with me

But you are deep down in me

Before, now and then.

Nature

 Nature 

I was standing by you

Looking and clicking

Smelling and licking 

The site of your beauty

The nectar of the flowers.

You are dancing like a frog

Swirling like a butterfly

Roaring like a lion 

With a crown of high hills 

With a bed of sandy beaches .

A book ever open for all

A pen ever write for all

To scribe a love letter to you

With deep attachment

Pouring the drips of love.

You make me forget the pain

Unshackle the chain

Filling my heart with joy

Furling like a snow

So beautiful and pleasing.

 

On the Road

It was a night bus Butwal to Burtibang. We, Jyoti and I were in the seat no 5/6 A. The time of departure was 6:30. As we boarded on the bus, we saw hips of rice sacks on the passage. I was confused whether it was a truck or bus. There was no place for reason. We occupied our seat. Soon, we heard that one of the passenger lost nearly 30000 in the bus. He was searching money desperately here and there. There was a discussion on this topic. I jumped to the conclusion that he was a fraud. Such events occur very often in the journey. Some people make a lie. And some are the real victims. 

When he was inquired how he lost the money, he described the situation. I observed his facial expression and studied his psychology, I came to the conclusion that he was right. He spoke with grim face and dim eye, " I was managing the luggage, two three boys tightly adjusted me. They might have pick pocketed." He was right. He sighed and spoke again " Achha ekbaar Chet mila". His language told me that he has been working in India. He was from Burtibang. 

This is not only the incident I saw for the first time. During the time of Dashai and Tihar, the gangs of robbers become active to rob the money of those who come from India. People often say that there is insecurity in the border areas of India and Nepal. But many people are being robbed in the hotels and bus stations of Nepal. Where should they go to complain? There is no one to listen them. Buses are converted into lorries. Traffic remains silent when their mouths are shut and eyes are blinded with bribe. Driver and conductors of the bus are like Commander of the army. They have never learned the word polite because they are born in the family where vulgarity is fused in day to day language as chutney. I asked some questions to the conductor about the mess in the bus. He was free and bold to answer, " traffic don't enter the bus. The shopkeepers order the goos in the bus. So what." I had no words. I couldn't fight alone. No one was ready to fight against them.

With the throbbing engine, the bus geared along Prithivi Highway. As soon as it arrived Shidhhababa, people bowed their head and put heir hands first on the chest and then on the forehead. They remembered Shidhhababa and begged for their safety journey to home. No one was speaking. No one was laughing. I thought they have long been forgotten to laugh.

I remembered the incident of the same day in Butwal. There were motorcyclists with party flags on the road racing like bulls . There was no following of the rules of the road. Traffic polices were only the onlookers. Common people were siding with the fear of accident. Those who don't follow the rules, how can they build the law. Those sons of the bitch never care the trouble of the public. So, how can we believe on fucking leaders. He has lost 30,000 rupee and no one was there to understand his problem. It was because there is no rule. No law of the country.

The road on Badighatt side was told dangerous. But we didn't feel that at the night. Almost everyone was sleeping on the bus. The music was on, and we were listening and sleeping at the same time. Instead of Hindi filmy songs, nepali lok dohori songs were being played. I didn't know how I crossed so difficult rocky and sloppy roads. When the bus stopped for food, only I knew the place, it was Argali. Had food and began the race. Fragrance of the onion and spoiled potatoes mixed with the stone powder and whirled in and out of the lung.

The bus stopped at Majuwa, Chorkati to let the passenger getting out of the bus. It was only two am. when the bus came to Bhuwaschidi. After 45 minutes the most difficult road, it reached Wami Taxar at 3am. The driver of the bis breaker hard and bus remained stationary.  Then everyone silent. I saw the driver sleeping on his place stopping the bus. It stopped nearly 40 minutes there. Then the bus started crawling down the kharbang Baglung crossing the river Daraidi. I made eye wide enough to watch the newly constructed bridge over Daraudi river. 

Again the bus stopped at Kharbang for tea. It stopped there nearly 45 minutes. After boring waiting for the bus, we reached Taksay at 6am. Despite boring waiting in some places, I enjoyed it.

Diary

                             On the way to Home ( Thana)

It was about 10am. An idea surged in my mind. I agreed with it. Then I set the journey up the hill. I decided to bring vegetables,too. So, Janaki, Jyoti and I started our journey around 11am. Although I was used to of such journey, it was difficult for Jyoti who had come for the first time. The day was sunny and heat of the sun was scorching. 

We began to walk a sloppy hill with stick. After an hour we reached Mr Mitra B Pun's house. We met an old woman, mother of Mitra B sir. We requested her to give us water and she agreed. After drinking water, I asked her permission to pick some Belautis. With permission, I climbed up the tree and picked nearly a dozen of Belauties. I ate one ripped belauti on the tree. Then we walked up. After 15 minutes, we reached Baidar Maila's house. There was a woman look like Kumalni. I asked her a hasiya to make a stick for Jyoti. Then we moved a bit faster than earlier. From the pond of Baidar, Janaki and I moved faster leaving Jyoti behind. At the mid of the forest, we hid in the bush. When Jyoti didn't see us , she screamed. We had a fun. Then clicking some pics and enjoying the beautiful sites, we walked along the sloppy hill towards Balpokhara. While climbing the hill, Jyoti's sandal broke up. She dragged it. As soon as we reached Balpokhara, we drank water. And watched the beautiful sight of my birth place. On the we bought a pair of new sandal for Jyoti. The road was wide enough for small vehicles. I snapped several photographs on the way to up hills. I met Gomle Sarki at Simaldanda. I snapped his photo. Then clicking the pics and wiping the forehead. We moved ahead. When we reached the school, we observed the changes. I took photos. It brought me back my schooling days where I learned Ka Kha Ra.

The playground reminded me the volleyball played in every dashai purnima . The way which we used to walk was no more easier.

From the lakure Danda we watches breathtaking scenes. I took several pics standing by the Lakuri tree. Then walked ahead. I saw Gaira Kaailo working with plastic ropes. He might be weaving a Naamlo. I asked him whether he knew me. He said he didn't. I introduced him. He knew me then. I snapped his pics. After that we entered the house of Kamikanchha.  He was not at home. I looked around and shouted. He came home from the farm. We had friendly chat. I asked him some Chatela and cucumber. Then finally we reached to our old house. Before descending the home, I played volleyball with the village children. After sometime, I climbed down the house. 

When I reached the home, I became nostalgic. I took photos of  house and the surrounding. Jyoti and I went to the padhero to see the tree. I touched the tree of Sirmu . At mean time I felt wet inside pant and checked. It was a leech. I also snapped the pic of the leech taking it on the palm. Then I threw it on Jyoti's feet. She screamed. I laughed. From the Sirmuko paato, I recorded the Vedio of whole land and house with self commentary. I took the Vedio of house and buffaloes. Also goats and bees. Collecting a sack full of vegetables, we returned from their. I went to the house of Sarkis. I met jethi and jetha. Both of them were happy. I snapped the pics. They gave me a cucumber and chatelas. I picked one more cucumber from Sarki Kailo's myself. Carrying two cucumbers on the arms I reached to Saupokhara. I met Haldar Jethaba. I snapped his photo too. Without staying for more than two minutes, I walked down to Baatamuni ko kanchho. Ther was also a sackful of vegetables. One sack was carried by Janaki and another was on my back. It was late. So, we rushed down in hurry. But we made the journey memorable talking, teasing and fun making. Darkness fell on the way. After we crossed Lamdara Ran B's house, we couldn't see the road clearly. But we descended without any hurdles. When we reached Bhusalni's house, Bhabana and saili Bhauju came to us with torch. It made us a bit easier to climb down the cobbled stony road. Finally, we reached home around seven pm.

To the conclusion, the journey was memorable, adventurous and beneficial. 

Long live Jagdish Ghimire

                                    Long live Jagdish Ghimire

I was reading Dhobighat Express in the morning. A local FM was being played. When the news was broadcasted , most of the news were about upcoming constitutional election like vehicles of leaders were burned down, bombs were exploded. It was very common these days. I concentrated on the book. At the same moment, I heard the news of the death of Jagdish Ghimire. It broke my heart. I couldn't believe to my ear. I waited the head news to be repeated. My hearing was right.

Jagdish Ghimire has made a space in my heart as a mentor. He is a literary icon for me. I have learned so many things from his books. "Antramanko Yatra" changed my thinking about life. He wrote this book while he was under the treatment of Maailoma Cancer. This book is the Bible of Humanism. What is to be human? How we should conduct our life? What is the value of human relation ? Such queries are addressed with the experiences of his life. Life is full of miseries, sorrows and hardships. We have to accept it and love with it. When we are healthy, rich and powerful, we may have several friends. We remain so busy that even we can't give time to our family members too. But when we are sick, old and poor, we need our family. People who were with us leave us alone. This is the bitter reality. We only know the meaning of our existence when we are in crisis. Antramanko Yaatra is about human existence, experience and evaluation of the deeds of the writer. He won Madan Puruskar for this book.

"Sakas" is another popular book by the writer. This book was also written while the writer was waiting his death. Instead of writing about his Sakas in real life, he wrote about the hardships of the country. He unfolded the pages of written and non written history of Nepal. How people suffered under the reign of the King and the Ranas has been shown artistically. He began his literary career with his book "Lilam".

The death of Ghimire has made Nepali Literary an orphan. He was the guardian of Nepali literature. He was suffering since long; so that his death could bring peace in his life. Death sometimes ends the pains and suffering of human life. He was a bold man. He lived more than six years wrestling with Mailoma cancer. It was his will power. It also taught us that we can live longer if we have strong will power to win the death though it is enevitable. His creative writing worked as therapy. He tried to forget the pain by writhing. He brought his death experience to publics so that we can conduct our life accordingly. 

Dhobighat Express is about the journey of human life which is similar to the Bus keeps on moving exposing the site of the world around and crossing the obstacles on the way. We are thinking that we are at motion. But we are circling the same ring road. Each time we repeat the same activities mistaking it for new. Newness is an illusion. Nothing new has remained in the world. Everything has been done, written and experimented. We are living in the age of simulacrum. We break the existing structure and creat new out of it. In fact, it is not new. We are writing the same thing differently. Jagdish Ghimire's bus has stopped at the station today. It is his final station. He made several circles on the ring road of life. Now it is stationary for ever.

Although Jagdish Ghimire died physically, his soul never dies. His soul will remain eternal till people can read. He will be living on the pages of his books. I knew Jagdish Ghimire from his book which made an image in my mind. It can't be erased. For me Jagdish Ghimire is still alive. He will living ages ages. He will be inspiring me throughout my life. His death for me is mere a sad news. But not bad news. Death is final truth. The great philosopher Socrates said that we shouldn't cry at the death of someone. Instead, we should be happy. We should accept the death happily. Socrates drank poison with his smiling face saying that he was going to change the old clothes. It's hard to understand by the common mind. But is is the reality. Krishna also told to Arjuna that soul never dies; only the evil. Our soul is eternal. Greek philosopher Plato said that the physical world, physical or material body is an illusion. The ideal world is the real world. So, Jagdish Ghimiri is still alive in another form.

I extend my heartfelt condolence at the demise of Jagdish Ghimiri; one of the literary Dharahara of Nepal. His soul may rest in peace in heaven. May the Almighty give enough power to endure this tragic moment to all Nepalese; lovers of literature.