30 Minutes of Traveling: The Man With The Black Goggles

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The dust has become an indispensable ingredient of the road. I hear it is more horrifying on the other edge. A scarf over the head, a big mask covering half the face will do for now. It has worked for years down this route.

I was far ahead of the rush hour, so there was no need to hurry for the tempo. It would be waiting under the brazing sun. I get in and take the first seat on the right. There’s leg space beneath. Suddenly a man with big black goggles gets in. His hands confusingly ramble around the legs of those seated. He carries a folded stick. He takes the corner diagonally opposite to where I am seated.

The tempo gains momentum and we head out, back home. The traffic’s moderate so there’s no stopping in between.

Yeta ko bazar pani Ratna park ko jastai rahecha,” the man says when the vehicle reached by the side of Lagankhel. He seems to be enjoying the sound of the place, unique to its origin while comparing it to the other bazaar at the other side of the city.

“Hmm,” “Uh..” the other passengers inside show their agreement.

A few meters ahead, the man searches for something inside his pocket. He pulls out a few notes.

Yo pachas ko note ho?” he asks to the person seated in front of him showing the note in his hand.

“Ho,” the other replies nodding.

Yo bish ko ho?” he asks again holding another note.

“Ho,” the other replies nodding, again.

The man puts the fifty rupee note back into his pocket and holds the twenty in his hand. He holds his head high every time he talks. He doesn’t struggle. He doesn’t hide.

I get down. The tempo moves ahead, so do the people inside it.


This December, let me take you through the streets of Kathmandu one more time through my everyday travel routes which last for about 30 Minutes. If you look at the dust settling over the surface of the window you’re seated next to, you’ll find a story. If you look at the children dressed in school uniforms, you’ll find a story. If you close your eyes and listen to the horns of the big vehicles, you’ll find a story there too. What are we but the stories we tell each other.

The Blue Rabbits

“Nobody likes girls….who like to beat the gentlemen,” she said, streaks of tears streaming down her cheeks.

“And who told you so?”

“Do you have to speak such things out loud?” she asked, wiping her nose violently as if not conscious.

“What must I deduce of these fine tears of yours?”

“Anything you wish to.”

“So the young man who talked about stars, dreams and your favorite blue rabbit did not speak to you tonight?” “Am I right?”

She nodded.

“Look at the stars.”

“Do the stars have the answer?” “I must have done something stupid or looked less prettier than…”

“Why does it always have to be about yourself?” he asked.

She remained stunned.

“Do you come to mock my situation?”

“I do not. Who chooses to stay and who leaves does not make you any less of who you are.” “Look at the stars.”

She bent her neck and stared at the sky. It was not filled with the finest stars, but it wasn’t empty either.

“Will they not shine because you don’t go out and gaze at their beauty?”

“No.”

“Then why shouldn’t you?”

“Look,” she pointed. “Here they come.”

“So he’s walking with her…Wait, isn’t she your..”

“Friend. Sakhi.”

“Ah, she’s a good girl, isn’t she?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Do you like him?”

“Not that I know off.”

“Then why do you fume so bad?”

“I..I must be scared.”

“Scared that he wouldn’t talk to you about the blue rabbit you read last week?”

She did not reply.

“This is not the time for rabbits, Arki.” “When it will be time for rabbits, he will come to you with the thick black book.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” “Sakhi reads about rabbits too, you know.”

He did not reply. Arki turned around, but he had vanished. “What if he likes Sakhi’s rabbit story than mine?” “What if!” “Where are you?” “Where have you disappeared to!”

Arki turned left and right. But he was no where to be seen.

“Know that your rabbits are better,” he said in her ears. Arki froze.

“At least you should,” he whispered again. “Just the rabbits, mind you.”

Arki tried to grab him. But her hands remained empty. He had vanished again.

“Just the rabbits,” she said to herself.

Writers, Draw Your Swords! NaNoWriMo Is At The Door

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NaNoWriMo, the abbreviation for National Novel Writing Month is a project where writers around the globe gear up to finish a 50,000 word novel in a month, in November. Sounds like a mayhem, right?

Then, its exactly the reason to dive in.

After much consideration, I have decided to dive in and see what really becomes of me. The target is to write 1,667 words a day, well, in consistent with the everyday life and the gruesome fall semester when November is the toughest month with a pile of assignments and paperworks to do. And one thousand five hundred twenty three other things! 

There are too many reasons to give up, only one to try. Murphy’s Law is always in action. Things that are bound to go wrong, will go wrong. Thus, there is no perfect time. No perfect reason. Only time, only now.

A good-enough novel violently written now is better than a perfect novel meticulously written never. – Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic

My target is not the 50,000 word mark, my aim is to get that story rolling, no matter how horrible or stupid.

And if I fail, it’ll just add up in that huge bin of things I tried.

The world needs your novel. – NaNoWriMo

Til’ the next post!

Alfa

P.S. What are you thinking? Won’t you join along?

The Breaking Point of Transformation

A photo by Mathias Reed. unsplash.com/photos/wEoRDzrgmT8

It is the butterfly I think of when transformation hits my mind. The dazzling butterfly with its colorful wings, the sky as its canvas. But I wonder, what does the cocoon think about. How does it feel, as it remains inside itself, closed from the world, waiting for the breaking point of transformation. Does it feel the fang of impatience grow inside as it waits to see a new world? Does it cry itself to sleep because the wait has become too hard? or does it cherish each moment as it becomes more of itself? Perhaps, it has already transformed deep inside, before being visible to any other eye.

via Daily Prompt: Transformation


Image by Mathias Reed from stocksnap.io