When A Writer Loves...

Chapter-1-1

Chapter-1

After I've passed the SEE, I think about taking rest for a year. So I don't join any college; I rather fill a private form of language in a local institute. This year, because of not getting chance to any college, I've much more spare time. So I divert my attention to the english language. But, next year, I admit in the nearby college, and start to take classes. In the beginning, I chose math and english as the major subjects. But Choosing both english and math at a time required too much labour to go ahead. So, the reason being possible over-stress in my study, later, I changed one of the two for an easier subject.

Because of scarcely getting out of home ... away, or almost not getting out of home, I have been feeling sick. Sickness due to over-attachment at home. A hazardous monotony at my house. I always longed for going somewhere. I wish I had shifted away elsewhere and settled down there. By degrees, I get sharply agonized by this sort of feeling inside. Consequently, I tend to become so weak. Due to over agonization, I suffered from tuberculosis. Now I started to take seven pills per day. It is too much for me to staying at the same place and suffering from the essencelessness. I sought homesickness in my life too, like others do feel and talk about in general. I make up my mind to tell this reality to my guardian. But I am pretty sure--it won't work; because they won't send me anywhere to risk my illness and study. So it's better to take my own decision. I contemplate to flee from home.

No other option, I directly headed for Niraj's house. There I got him. I took him up to the attic room in seperate, and wept infront of him telling everything.

"So I wanna leave the house. I wanna make an altercation in my living," I added.

Niraj gets quite serious. Nervously, he searches his old jacket's pockets. There he finds five hundred rupees.

As he was about to stretch his hands out to me, I said, "please accompany me a bit further at this decisive moment."

He then puts that money into his own pant's pocket. In no time, we are out of our home town. We reach Salbuniya at my auntie's house where there is not my real auntie. She passed away a few years ago; but her two sons, one daugher, my uncle and their step mother for my auntie are now to talk with me.

While my real auntie was alive, I never got chance to visit her. So it's my first visit here. I am little sceptic and little afraid lest they rise the matter of my not coming before. But my luck-- they never scraped that matter during my stay.

My regular pills are going to finish soon. So--though my intention was not to interfere them with any of my private affair--I am dragged to cunsult it with my brother Susil. Calling him in a little bit isolation, I talked to him over that matter.

He then quoted a line: "You can lie the whole world but yourself."

In my subtle and day to day sentiments, I remember his quote once or twice even today. To hide tuberculosis amongst the strangers where there is sombody well conscious about the awareness of the disease is really a risky task if you like to get mixed with them like others do.

"Don't get panicked. Finally, you have told the truth. I would try something from my side," he consoled me.

We then approached the nearby health post. But my unluck-- it seeks the recommendation of my earlier d**g distributor source. Anyway, thanks for my brother's endeavour. At least his sentiment was stirred in my problem.

As we returned home, my brother Susil showed his +2 marksheet. It was Purwanchal University. Niraj and me both looked at each other. Our looks somewhat underestimated his first division marks. I wonder what sort of enthusiasm was inside us, now, to overlook his excellent marksheet!

After a while, leaving me in auntie's house, Niraj bade goodbye.

Now there is no option for me than going to Sikuwachowk health post from where I used to take weekly medicines. I go. But I don't have the prescription. I ordered it by phone with my sister at home. I Somehow withdrew the pills. Meantime, I urged my sister for some money to go to maternal uncle's house. She provided. Hence I prepared myself for Sittametar. I chose the route : Nimja to Suhani.

The next morning, I bade good bye to Terai. At about 2 o'clock, I reached Suhani. It is my first visit out of home so away. By getting off the taxi, I spun a round as if to catch a glimpse or panorama of Suhani and its hills in my subconcious mind. Then I lifted my mobile to make a call. Oh, no, it's switched off; the battery has gone dead, and inside was saved my uncle's mobile no, too. Now I tried to recall it just so but was unable. I could only remember his old landline no. So I slowly walked to a retail shop where I could see a telephone booth on side. Altogether eight digit...I dialled.

A stranger sounded 'hello' in a female voice.

"Could you please call my brother, Sahil, here, I am his saili fufu's son."

"Yea, where are you from, you mean Sahil Sarma?"

"Yes, I am from Sikuwachowk, now in Suhani"

"Oh, yes, it's their nearest calling number but it takes 10 minutes."

"It's ok, I'll wait."

"So, please call after 10 minutes"

"Ok, thank you."

After 10 minutes, I called and found him. Sittametar from Suhani is a journey on foot. No veichle and its path. So I make him take me up to Sittametar in the phone. He agrees. All I have to do is wait for 2 hours. I waited. Roaming here and there in a new place, having tea and snack, 1 and a half hour goes by just so. I have given him the meeting point at the very phonebooth shop. Suddenly, somebody slowly grapsed my hand from behind. I shrank back with a jolt. For a very short period of time my heart pounded fast. But Oops! it was non other than my brother Sahil.

"How so early?"

"I sometimes ran on the way."

I was amazed thinking how on the hilly ups and down he could have run!

At about 7 o'clock in the evening we reached Sittametar. Because I was not used to with the hillside-walk, the journey along with me was not so easy-going like it was his single before.

I payed namaste to maternal uncle and aunt. They both are officers. Tonight, I told them everything that happened to me at my home.

They are somehow convinced, for they love their poor nephew.

Next morning, Sahil took me to the crowded chowk where there were many tea stalls as well. He ordered teas and snacks for us. He ordered them in credits. He is in class ten but he has his personal income source. He brings newspaper from Suhani and supplies here.

My uncle and aunt works in a health post. At about 9:45 am, both of them go to office. I also go to their hospital to kill the time. There I talked about my disease and the need of medicines--to them. Uncle assured me that they had got tuberculosis drugs stored in the hospital's store house.

"I would talk to the incharge. He is kind and friendly. Don't worry, he will give you medicines; you have to avail him of one recommendation from Sikuwachowk. Don't worry you'll be provided drugs right from tomorrow, and you can manage the recommendation later."

I become happy not only in his words but also in his deeds.

In this way, my days are passing by, sometimes talking to the hospital members, and sometimes playing chess with the prominent players in Sittametar. The othertimes, I busy myself roaming here and there amids the pine trees jungle of the college here. The pine trees jungle starts from the college yard. It is so beautiful and enchanting that I feel all my griefs and sorrow filched away charismatically once I get the melody of the wind blowing mellifluously amids the spiky bunch of pine leafs. Here in Sittametar, a belief is sown in me and it is still strong today that a TB patient can easily be healed if he gets the pine trees environment profusely. So I am quite optimistic about my healing process here.

I am getting homely atmosphere amids 3 members here; nonetheless, I've got few compulsions as well. I am not getting my maternal aunt as I had expected. She is a bit scurrilious. So, I have to make a tough compromise with her as long as I have to sustain in their lodge. Sometimes my soul cann't get rest upon my aunt alone. Still, there is a ground for me to stay furthermore in this atmosphere by complying with her. It is the matter of my childhood days when she had made an undeniable contribution by rescuing my mom from the doom of an insufferable hardship.

I've rarely seen such a brave women like my mum who has struggled so hard in her life. She had done all these for the sake of we four children to save her self esteem and love for us. So:

Hey mum, how can I pay your travesty?

How can I say your grief in words?

I think, lifelong, I'll lay inundated and

Indebted, in the bay of your mercy.

Your eternal love for me,

Your eternal job for me,

Your eternal care for me,

Your eternal share for me,

How can I ignore all this?

You are never more for this.

In my elimentary school life, I would always be happy. There was never such a case of my not talking with a single student. But exceptionally, there was also such a case. Despite having her many friends and they also being friends of mine, I dared not speak with Muna. I was one badge earlier than her. She was a refugee girl. Her parents had migrated from Bhutan due to an uprising over there. Many Nepalese origin people were forced to flee due to the complicacies in adjustment there. She was born in a refugee camp. I knew later. I happened to listen, one of the girl named Sila-- talking to others, that Muna's family had borne a riot. They had gone through many sufferings in Bhutan. They had fled away to Nepal by not being able to endure all these.

All be it, everybody has got their own story of sorrow. Like fossil, it remains deep inside one's vulnerable sentiments of layers. I also have got such heartrending sentiments in my life. My family, too, had gone through a poverty-crisis. The compelling stories of grief and sorrow had rendered many surroundings to have piety upon me. But, to everybody's innocence, I felt the depth of my serious stories being slowly superceded by Muna's. My last reason for getting sympathay from others was challanged by her.

Thus my precise source of sympathy and love was unnoticeably confiscated by Muna. She mattered me in all condition now. I was finally sure that if I talked to her, then even a tiny bit of sentiment between us would no longer be safe. So, better not to talk eachother. In this way, we kept maintaining our reservedness till we passed our SEE.

Here in Sittametar, I plead my uncle to have the willing to let me stay more. He supports my desire. He assures me to manage everything for my study. The more he assures me to establish here, the more my attachment in Sikuwachowk gets detached. Things of minor concern to a very loving and sentimental get shaken. They slowly begin to be plucked with twiching. My friends' love, my teachers' love, my kith and kins' love--all I console and compromise with great patience. It is not a sacrifice at all, but it is equall to sacrifice. My new friends in Sittametar will be old one day. My kith and kin will be substituted to mother's clan. My new teachers will also be old one day. My environment and friendly status in Sikuwachowk gets trembled inside me now. It will be available in Sittametar like the same in Sikuwachowk in few years' time. I don't mean to be hostile to Sikuwachowk, but it's about the gradual process of forming the habit to substitution--slowly forgetting the previous life and its network for the sake of new one. In such a state of my soul, suddenly, somebody weeps inside me. It weeps and weeps and hints not to stop weeping unless I alter my decision to stay here in Sittametar. This somebody is non other than Muna. I can not console her from within me. So I coercively try to ignore her cry for the happiness and security of my private life. But Muna turns to a sharp hook for my flesh that the more stern I become, the more fiercely she gets me scratched. Now I find no escape. Hence, to comfort my weeping integration, I decide not to stay in Sittametar. I said to myself that I will return soon. Around three months have already passed here that, for the first time, I felt homesick. Thank god, I am fortunate like others.