Last Evening

Moriarity was in news again. The outspoken US ambassador who was known more to his blunt political remark than his diplomatic goodwill, again grabbed headline by calling the Maoist cadres who called themselves as young communist league as vagabonds of criminals. The state radio, which before peace accord used to blast Maoist for their every action, which all of a sudden has taken drastic U turn and has become kind of mouth piece, was reporting the remark with top priority. Some knee jerk critics were saying that the offhand remark can possibly derail the peace process, some remonstrated it as officious to domestic issues, meanwhile those that trust Maoist as liver malady called it very sagacious. “What’s the meaning of sprachgeful?”, the sound waves from radio was interrupted suddenly and my brain started to scan its meaning. Another voice said “the character of language, an intuitive series of what is linguistically appropriate”. I was simply amazed by both the question and the answer and wondered the relevancy of sprachgeful with the news. Then I realized that my friends were at it again. They had begun another question answer round for possible GRE verbal questions.

I looked at them and found them totally indifferent to the news that has just turned to reporting another slaughter of a civil officer by one of the several rebellion groups currently spreading violence in terai region. They want autonomous state, a break away from Nepal, governed by the indigenous people of that region, which was being told. Some said they are King’s men trying to spoil Constituent Assembly election, some said they are working for India to spread its hegemony, some said they are renegades from Maoist rebellion, some said they are just gangs of thugs, some said they are freedom fighters. Both Right and Left wingers calling themselves virtuous were blaming each other for the turmoil. Whatever was the reason the violence was up and Nepal was bleeding again. But oblivion to the entire crisis we were sipping coffee in one of our favorite hangouts.

The afternoon rain had settled and twilight was fading. Despite the looming night fall the air was hot. Humidity was the villain for the rise in mercury. Despite the heat, people were enjoying the Friday evening at New Road, commercial heart of capital. I and my friends from college generally get together every Friday evening at same café trying to put the hectic week into rest. After we graduated we had made kind of pact to keep in touch with each other every Friday. But after nearly eight months this routine was getting kind of boring, each sip of coffee accompanied by the same old story about hardship at work, girl problem, family problem and of course uncertain future. It seemed we were always going through same vicious circle and no escape appeared in horizon. The mood was mixed.

I looked around the café. It was a cheerful place, filled with smell of roasted chicken and bacon. The walls were filled with paintings of some unknown artists and few pictures of old Kathmandu. One picture in black and white showed the photograph of Kal Bhairab, the large stone idol of Lord Bhairab that sits at Hanuman Dhokha. There was a small writing indicating the year of picture taken, 1901 AD. The picture also depicted few children playing in the street. They looked happy and I wondered whatever happened to them. Did they grow up to be leaders, farmers, soldiers, martyrs or did they disappear in face of time. Did they ever hear about capitalism, communism, democracy, green cards or did they settle down with a bright eyed girl in neighborhood. Did they ever thought during that game of theirs that sometime in twenty first century some one will be watching that private moment and trying to figure out what they became. These questions will perhaps never be answered.
As I was musing, waiter brought in bottle of bear. We all drank and the topic changed to politics again. My friends were certain nothing good was going to happen to this country. Hopelessness ranked supreme. Everybody seemed to want to leave the country and catch the last minute train to US. It appeared as if the discovery of gold by John Sutter and the news of subsequent gold rush that had transpired have finally reached the ears of people living here. One of my friends told me his aspiration of reaching America, becoming rich and starting the charity for the country. Another friend interjected with maxim that brain drain is better than brain going to drain. It seemed all of them have made up their minds of going abroad. I didn’t say anything. I was caught in this dilemma whether I should stay and serve the country or become one of those in exodus leaving for better opportunity.
Hope is greatest feeling. Being embarrassed of your own home is the worst. And today many youngsters were embarrassed of their country. Who is to blame for that nobody knows. The news in the radio didn’t help either there was only negative. But isn’t negative ness is that what makes news. Even the US news services are negative. Whether it is NewYork times, CNN, Fox news every one is spewing the grim future in Middle East, economy, environment, health care and list goes on. But we don’t care. We don’t care about the filibuster in American Congress regarding the privatization of Social security or veto by President on time limit for withdrawal of coalition troops from Iraq. We don’t care if Joe Bidden wants to break Iraq to three factions or Hugo Chaveze’s rhetoric. All we care is getting the visa to land where hope presides over all the fears. And this indifference makes things more worrisome. What is the meaning of Deipnosophist . Another question and I didn’t answer. I just drank more and the sight got blurred. Before I knew I was in my bed putting another hectic week to rest. It was midnight; I knew I couldn’t face the challenge of sun tomorrow.