I. Metamorphosis
***************

Goosebumps were rampant when I reached Bahrain, the last transit before KTM. This was the first hand reminder of Nepal in almost five years. The waiting room was filled with hundreds of Nepalis with whom I wanted to share my excitement but I decided to save the loaded exuberance with my parents first. I also realized in years, what human flesh smelled like?smell of sweat, blood and tears that thousands of our compatriots have shed in the gulf region to provide to their families back home. I was overcome with guilt, for I was covered up in American Brand, a disguise that far represented by identity.

If I thought the waiting room was a mini Nepal, the atmosphere inside the aircraft was more vigorous than Asan Bazaar, which also made me nervous. I knew I wasn?t for a smooth ride as the passengers just didn?t get the importance of wearing seat belts before take off. They exhausted the alcohols served in meals, they rushed to the window to catch a glimpse of KTM at 35000 ft, even when we were as much as two hours from the destination, the only respite coming as a thunderous applause for landing in KTM in one of those humid and bleak mornings.

I was thoroughly exhausted as we walked from the plane to the airport from more than 21 hours on air. I just wanted to go home and sleep for a change. The reality dawned upon me as I observed the emptiness of the hallway, rudimentary amenities, sweltering heat, lobbies that lacked AC, paper towel less bathrooms, but I remembered what I had vowed to do before my trip?focus on the positives. And there was the first sign of rejuvenation, seeing my maami come from afar with a garland. I was nervous and shy as hell. Yes! I was shy, I didn?t know if I should bow down to her or hug her. Would I be too American if I went in for a hug? I bowed down anyway but my mom met me in an embrace. I felt in seventh heaven.

The first question that left my flickering mind was straight away ?maami, ma motako chu??
She observed me for a while and said ?darho jeu bhayecha?

I was relieved. After bowing and hugging my dad, we left the airport in a mini van kinda taxi, and right away the goosebumps turned into volcanic bubbles as we swerved towards gaushala. Nothing seemed to have changed, except the exponential crowd and the compact houses. The dusty tupsy turvy road, pollution, busy traffic, horns buzzing all around, dogs barking people shouting --. Thank god! Up the maligaon?s ukalo and my excitement reached its threshold getting the first glimpse of my beloved handigaon. It was a mixed bag. Cleaner, nicer and ostentious alleys with towering houses all around, but too many strangers, and I felt like a stranger once more as I did in my childhood returning home from hostel.

I rushed to see my grandparents and bowed to them. I felt awfully bad for they didn?t recognize me. After half an hour of dilemma and explanation, both of them burst into tears. I was dizzy, sleepy hungry, but I had to see around to satisfy my virgin mind. After a hearty meal of quati and farsi ko munta from our own bari, I decided I needed a nap badly.

It was transient as restlessness besieged me. Something had transpired that I just couldn?t figure out and it made me feel very uneasy. It was not only seeing my grandparents unable to recognize me, not only my dad who looked older in retirement but with unusual friendliness, not my mom?s hyper exuberance, not the absence of my sisters, not the parijaat that had been a cornerstone of my childhood that was missing from our yard, it was something else. I went to the bathroom and gazed at the mirror which I had done ten thousand times before I left for US. AH! There was the answer. The figure I was looking at wasn?t the same. He had transformed into an adult without my consent. And it made me a whole lot nervous. However, thankfully I was home, only place where I felt good about being nervous.

To be contd?

Wow Oys...

Its always a pleasure to read your stories.

You have such a nice flow...

Then you went by Gulf Air. You should be prepared to experience such scenario if you go by Gulf air and remember while coming to BKK by Thai is same. We need to respect our brothers who intend to go to Gulf for handful of money because of lack of education.

Secondly, you are lucky dude as your parents were allowed to come in airport that too without own vehicle.

Thirdly, vegetables from own bari???? let me dream!!!!

Obviously, you don't like dust, pollution and noise. But there where we grew up. sorry mate we could not make Kathmandu as Singapore as K.P.Bhattrai said once.

oysiee,the prodigal son returns!! i do enjoy your articles,keep writing will ya? i know for a fact that homecoming might not always be what u expect it to be. it can be both a relief and a tad too unsettling at the same time. have fun though dear oysie and post us some pics.

दस साल बाद.......
दुईटा भुरा एका पट्टी अनि सँगै परान प्यारी आर्को पट्टी राखेर ढल्कुमा खै के
ताकेर बस्या च्याम्पट्टीलाई देखेर मैले सोचें, "ल हेर च्याम्पट्टी उमेरको सुरेलीमा
हरिप चिप्लेछ" च्याम्पट्टी भन्या म भुरा हुँदाको साथी के त..अब खास नाम त
परमोद नी तेसको तर च्याम्पट्टी घुमाउन खुङ्खार सानै देखि. तेसपछि त नामै
च्याम्पट्टी। जे होस च्याम्पट्टी मलाई हेर्ने म च्याम्पट्टीलाई। उस्ले मलाई नचिनेको
झोकमा म पनि त्यो सँग बोल्दै नबोली लागें भाटभटेनी तिर। झ्याप्प कठालोमा
समात्ने को भनेर हेर्या त उहि च्याम्पट्टी। मैले बोल्नै नपाई, उ जङ्गियो,
"मु...,दीपे, देख्या नदेखै गरेर हिन्छस?",
"ए! को भन्या त! मु** च्याम्पट्टी, स्वास्नी छोर छोरीको अगाडी मनपरी बोल्न
लाज लाग्दैन तँ मु** लाई?"

मैले नी सोध्दें। कसो? ठिक गरीन त मैले पर्भो?

Hadigau, the place where I have lost something priceless I never want to find but love to search forever.

Oys, keep writing more.

very nice...

feeling of strangeness, getting jolted down by reality around, getting a mild shock as you ride in the taxi from the airport, peeking out the window seeing how much things have changed, and some people talking to you differently, i don't know, i felt wierd..but it was all good after a week or so. also the jet lag, and a mild environment shock- ktm has become much flashy, noisy, and crowded. but home is home.

lets have updates coming..feels nice to read them :)

Oys can u check Pashupati and tell us if its much cleaner than u saw it last?

II. Moments of Bliss
************************

Jetlagged and bewildered, I woke up to the sound of the heavy monsoon showers in the twilight once more. I wondered if I really were in Kathmandu or just another ghetto in Connecticut. I hoisted the curtains to do a reality check. Even in that darkness and rain, I could make out those irresistible growing corns in our "bari" that would probably be ready in a month or so. I reached for Seto Bagh, that had been enthralling me lately with its romantic incense that blended perfectly with the pearl drops from heaven. I didn't know when I passed out but when I woke up, the sky had cleared out for a dazzling day and aroma filled mechi chiya stood next to my bed. I was still very much a mami's boy. "la babu chiya khadai yo sunn" my mom reached for the player and hit on play and she went away to do her daily chores.

I sipped the warm tea as one of the most melodious and captivating female voice oozed from the player. "Phool ko ankha ma phool nai sansara, tara ko ankha ma tarai sansara". those mere two lines and I not only became instant Ani Cheyong's fan but those two lines put my whole life into perspective. As I was brushing my teeth that morning, I suddenly realized that i was letting tap run on its own like I used to do Oh my! I just remembered the painstaking experience people have to go undergo everyday just to get enough water for drinking and cleaning. At least we are lucky, we still have some water; I have now met several people who have been buying water for several months. All those heated discussions on building an utopian Nepal suddenly seem very trivial.

As I got out of the house, I was met with an astonishing sight. The alley where I resided were full of stores from cold stores, meat shops, tailoring, hair cutting and even a beauty parlour. Sadly, I didn't find any children playing marbles, chungi or skips anymore. oh well! everybody moves on with time. Further down, "bhagwati than" was well guarded with metal fences while gahana pokhari looked majestic with its decorative silver laden fence all around and clearer water for a change. Only grave reminder on what our country is going through was the police post where an officer stood alertly with his rifle protected by barbed wire fences all around. The police headquarters in tangal looked pretty much the same, while Deep dai's beloved "chatte Ganesh" had transformed into a decorative, regular sized temple.

Of all the things in KTM, traffic probably has scared me the most. It seems like all the drunken bulls from spain are here and heading right towards me everywhere I go. I have to confess I haven't had the guts to get on one of those jam packed new sajha buses of KTM that link every corner of the city. Seeing the names of each and every alley and galli, that I am still getting used to, I wonder how giving directions might change in today's ktm. perhaps instead of " ooo tyo ganesh ko than bata sidai janus, ani pipal ko bot bata baya patti, ani teenta seto ghar aaucha, ani tyasko daya ko pasal ma falana ko ghar kata ho bhanera sodnus" to "gahana marg bata sidai purba teera, ani kotal marga ma ni purba ani mahadev galli ma daya" WOW!

to be contd...

III. Winds of Change
***********************
Despite some whacky and ridiculous ads, the programs in tv have raised their standards. Thanx to Ramdev -- people have finally got over the con artistry of Sai Baba and are at least very optimistic about Yoga, exercise and healthy eating that RamDev preaches in unlikely channel of "Astha". One of other big reliefs is that very few people have succumbed to hip hop and rap, though I must confess the music videos are not that bad. On the other hand, lok geet and dohori have been revived once more through different channels of NTV. The fascination to dohori and lok geet that my 1and 1/2 year old nephew showed jumping up and down and trying his best to imitate the moves in TV was quite titillating. There's still hope for the next generation.

One fine afternoon, I got a call from a friend whom I hadn't seen in eight years. He introduced himself as a junior officer in Himalayan Bank which was so lucrative that he was able to afford a car in less than two years. Sitting in one of the most happening cafes in Thamel, Jatra, we recollected our funfilled days and updated ourselves. I was extremely proud of him, his achievements, motivation and optimism, for he wasn't like many who winced and complained all the time that they couldn't do anything in Nepal and didn't get a chance to study abroad. (like myself few years ago).Suddenly out of the blues, I put forth the query about political climate which I had been avoiding ever since I got here.

He smiled wryly and said "I know what you folks in US do. Go to Nepalnews, kantipur, democracy org, cybernepal etc. and you think you know everything about Nepal. At least since february 1, there hasn't been a bomb blast in the city"
I wanted to ask him what bout rest of the country, but I didn't for I didn't want to taint his success story in any way. Just before we parted, he told me he'd also been teaching BBS first year part time and wondered if I could come in as a guest lecturer and tell his enthusiastic students about US. I felt honored. he quipped again " ..no no, not to encourage them to go to US, just the reality"

That evening I found myself with three other friends, studying in US , in Cafe Jatra again. One of those friends was supposed to have a jam up with a local band, but it rained heavily and was cancelled. As the place picked up pace with all the professionals of Kathmandu gathered for a friday evening mirth, we felt out of place. Even the waiters wondered if we wanted to move to a corner. We decided to get out from there and go to our old nostalgic hangout place in gairidhara, the one and only NAAN SEKUWA CENTER. Seeing me hesitate on a plate of Sekwa, my friend made a satire. "tyo Jatra ko plate chai mineral water le dhoko huncha?". All in all, it was all good because my volatile stomach was safe and sound the next day craving for more momo, sekwa, and luscious mangoes.

One cosy, rainy evening, I sat beside my dad both holding a glass of black label and sliding through memory lanes, going through our family albums. Its amazing the myriad people that had been part of our life had vanished into thin air. It also makes me uneasy to think that I might never ever see them again in this lifetime. Somehow, I want to be a child once more and meet them all over again. My dad cut my series of thoughts, "ani keta, tero chai GF chaina ta?"

I told him about the three criteria I was looking for and we both laughed to the fullest. I would have liked to carry on with that conversation, but Wimbledon Finals was on which we both were big fans of and we both rooted for Federer. And Federer didn't let us down.

to be contd...(if internet complies )

oys,
gr8 dude.. have fun.. enjoy.. and lets hear more

:)
बलल आधा पढैँ , अब बिचैमा के बोल्नी।

Just thought this thread should be on the front page......

Finally, got to read your writing again :) good going....
enjoy your stay!!

pustakumari...

oys...........timi ta kaha chineko manche jasto lagyo.........
ani bhatbhateni ko guff pani sunauna........supermarket kasto lagyo....
anmol sweets, blah blah blah.......malai ta tangal ma army dekhera janai darr lagyo naxal tira.....it sure feels like a military rule.

waiting for more.

ओइस बाबु कता हरायो हँ!!!!
हामी कुर्दाको सास्ति!!!

लु धेरै पछि कथा पढ्न पाईयो , पण्डितको आशिश छ ल !
प्रतिक्षामा ;)

मिस्केट
मिस्केट भएछ । आशिष हुनु पर्ने
मलाई पनि नारायणथान को फुल ल्याईदिनु है , अनि अर्याल जातिलाई भेट भयमा मैले सोध्याछ भन्नु ।
फर्सिको मुन्टा :(( :((
:
:

Cafe Jatra..its that popular in Nepal?

OYS,

very nice, can't get enuff of your memory lanes. nepal janai naparne banaidi halyau ni..

called you once, didnt go thru, figured u were off to kathmandu sahar...

keep it coming, OYS!!

jyotsna

Oys lay lasta gayera kuro chhineko lane ma dhakalni ho jasto cha haamlai....garam garam..subha karya ma deri kyoun!!

nice reading