He's a struggling writer. He aims to write only what he's experienced in his life.
The Staue of King Mahendra
Every time I pass by the statue, I halt to cast a quick glance at the statue from the pavement. As I gage at the statue of get goosebumbs.
It reminds me of my school days in Assam and later on, my ecounter with a tuition student in the evening class in Kathmandu in the 90s.
St. Paul's School, Rangapara, Assam
In that morning assembly in St. Paul’s School, Rangapara:
“To inform you, children, our friendly neighbour Nepal has lost her King, King Mahendra Bir Bikram Shah has passed away.
Therefore, let’s close our eyes for 3 minutes and pray for his soul.” Fr. Chako announced the sad news in front of the morning assembly after the national anthem had been sung.
Obeying his order, we raised our hands to our chests with palms together, closed our eyes and prayed.
"Open your eyes, thank you.” Saying this, he then turned to the pole and raised the national flag only half of the pole.
Then looking at us delivered further announcement:
“As a national mourning day for us, today we declare a holiday. You can go home right after the assembly is dispersed.” Ended his talk.
I was delighted.
King Mahedra's US Vistt
Deluge of Demonstrators
I imagine the scene the wildest deluge of demostrators, demanding with the highest pitch of their voice, "Panchayat Byabasta Murda Baad.” then the shrill, the thunderous clap, wild yell and whistle.
They clamoured to march forward and seize the Palace.
Behind the statue the barricades raised of drums and barbed wires on the road. Then the police who stood in line ready with arms to halt any wild stride forward.
Then my memory took me back to my English Language class room.
"Sir, I lifted the guy up. Then he finally could put on the garland around the neck. As soon as the garland was hanged around the neck, I heard the firing. The guy fell down.
I unlocked my hands and ran for life towards the Wood Land Hotel on my left.
I then bumped into the basement along with frenzied mob.
As night fell, I shivered throughout.
Then as dawn appeared, I slipped out along with others.
As I didn’t see any police on the road, I took the path along Bishwa Jyoti Cinema. Then I took the lane through Jyatha. Finally to my room in Sama Koshi.
I unlocked the door and opened it. I got into my room and I lied down on my bed. I couldn’t sleep.” Raising his glasses Sabin had shared his story in my English class.
He would hijack the class on the slightest gap and tell the same story again and again.
Sadly, I couldn’t help him tell his story in English. But I hoped some day he would.
Note: Before the political demonstration of1990, the height of the statue was half of what we view at present. The pedestal has been raised.
Rojalal frequents to the Valley for buying stocks for his shop in his village.
He’s already shifted his 4 children in the Valley. He lives in the village with his wife and a breast feeding child.
"How’s Sabin, I asked Rojalal one afternoon.
"He’s dead,” he said with wry grimace and dry throat.
"Army had arrested him one night. Then on the following morning his dead body was found on the bank of the river.” He added.
"Sabin, into the air, he had disappeared for ever, never to return to tell his story in English." I said to myself in saddeness.
Nepal's Maoist Revolution
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