When A Writer Loves...

Chapter-2

Chapter-2

Since it's my unavoidable plan, I am determined to write a novel. It's reserved inside the supple part of my being. I've allocated nearly 6 months' time for the preparation of language that needs to scribble an english book. I don't necessarily think I should share it to anybody before I accomplish my writing. Still, I cann't console myself as long as I don't share it to my friend Niraj. I, first of all, make him swear that he will never tell anyone before the publication of the first novel. He promises me. Then I tell him everything. Niraj gets really inspired by my intention. I am going to write a novel after some months' preparation; then he gets allured that he could also be of the same strength with in that period if he kept on following me. But the flame inside me is hotter. I have got the real zeal. So, like the spongue on a little splashed water, I can squeeze all that I try. But it is rather hard nut to c***k for him because he has not got that flame inside.

Anyway, I, first of all, go to a Cassette shop and make as many as 15 albums of famous english songs record for me. Niraj and me both share and listen to them. Then I go to Dharan to buy the best of Michale Jackson. Niraj also goes to Dharan and brings one famous album, SPIRIT, of Brian Adams. We search other programmes in TV, FM, and Radio. We reqire only english programmes, and we find a lot.

At 7 o'clock, in the evening, there are always some english programmes from kantipur FM. Likewise, we listen to the english news from Radio Nepal at 8 o'clock.

My craze, now, for the english language is not like of an ordinary person. It is an extraordinary.

I sometimes watch english documentary from NTV, and sometimes go through the popular magazines: Wisdom, Scholar, Reader's Digest, Wave, Soviet Literature etc. I also buy some english newspapers like The Himalayan Times , The Rising Nepal, The Kathmandu Post and Republica.

Growing more intensed, I happen to search many international radio channels like VOA(Voice of America), CRI(China Radio International), BBC(British Broadcasting Corporation) and Canada International.

My quest for english is not saturated by this much. I start to download many english songs, novels and story books from google. I also get to know that there is a public library in our village. There, I go and find many english books including novels from the past. No exception, I become a member of this library, too.

In this way the more sharp I become in english, the more from near I feel to have kissed my destination. It's been 3 months that I am not distracted from my track. My ongoing endeavour for english, I think, may not come to a halt even after 6 months' period if I didn't meet the strength of writing a book.

Leaving the outer world as it likes to go, I am secluded like a sage, for this hour, for some austerity perhaps. Nobody knows, except Niraj, what I am going to be in my near future. A sign of 'great man' was wavering above my head. So, the more I tried, the more enthusiasm was irrigated inside me.

In about five months' period, I wrote a story. A magazine story. I sent it to Readers' Digest office. But whether it didn't reach upto the office or it was not selected to be the first, I did not get any response. Anyway, I, inwardly, had felt something improved in my writing. Something faster. Something no word scarcity. Something a chain of sequence to the plot. Something a high frequency to the wave of feeling and imagination.

One day, I was listening to the BBC. An interesting programme was going on. The programme's name was 'Outlook'. Suddenly, I hear a sixteen years' old girl, an acrobat from Russia, getting interviewed. She would work in a circus. And, at the end of the programme, she requested the listeners for penpall. Here, now, I've spirited to the zenith that if it really needed, I will not be back-- hiding away from this teen-- even if she be the native speaker in english, and no matter how many slang words she might use.

So I don't hesitate to write a letter to her. Off course, I wrote and packed it inside an envelope. As I had just done that, Niraj entered my room and sat near by me. He then flung his sight to the envelope. He opened the letter and read it.

"I wonder if you yourself have written this!" He got surprised, "you've really reached your zenith, Sabanam, now you can write novels as well."

"No, Niraj novel is not like a letter or a magazine story. It's much more serious than them. I still need some herculean effort."

"Yes, I agree with your thoughts. I can't say anything before your dedication for english. But, everything has got its limitation. I think, you're, now a days, growing more intensed than one can hardly expect it to be normal. So, I suggest you to, sometimes, have a sight of greenery outside, and its fresh air on the go. You are going to be contained for a few crazy people in the world soon. And never mind if I say so cuz I am not only your friend this time, but like a close mirror of yours," Frowned Niraj, with an expectant snap for his intimate Sabanam.

"Ok, I understand and respect your precaution. So, let's go out for a walk," I proposed.

Then Niraj and me both got out of the room. We began to loiter on the way side. Walking little ahead along the way, we both sat under a tree. It was like a waylaying. We two friends talked for hours in the same posture today. I explained Niraj that my days of success were not so away; they were just few inches away from my grips. Niraj was repenting for not being abler like me. But, he showed his happiness in a friend's progression. In such a series of conversation, hours passed by. And as the evening fell, Niraj took out his way home. Then, I, as was going to return to my room, saw an stout middle-height lady coming towards me. Her hair was not combed; rather it was left strayed. I suspected it to be somewhat Muna, and her hair-- a sign of her over-confidence. So now I knowingly waylaid her. Not to my surprise, it was my real Muna. Pretending it to be a sudden come across, I dared talk to her.

"Oh ho! from where, Muna?" seeing for so many years and talking for the first time, I had to hold my breath quiet.

"From Birtamod, coming from there I got off the bus and took a bath in Mai, so hair uncombed....Which class are you in now, Sabanam? Perhaps, BA clear, am I right?"

Mai is a sacred pilgrimage amongst the people in Nepal, especially in the eastern region. I also have full faith in Mai river. A devotee makes a pious plan to visit her. A pilgrim makes a vow before taking a bath in her. But in Muna's expression, it sounded like an unplanned bath as if she may not have made any vow before-- as if it was an arbitrary bath. So, I felt my deep faith for Mai to have challanged bitterly by Muna's way of taking the sacred deity so lightly. Besides, I got quite ashamed in her irresponsible cross question. I felt some landslide happening somewhere inside me. So I got reserved for her speech.

Then she too realizes her responsibility to hold a person rightly who is in difficulty because of her careless way of talking.

"I mean, I heard you didn't join any college that year...," she corrected.

"Yes, you re right, and you in Simsimay?"

"Yes, science."

"Ok, Muna do sometimes come to see me as a friend, I expect you to come to my house time and again."

She got little shy and little confused in my words.

"Ok, but I am getting late, so I go now," she said and prepared to go.

"Ok, bye," I said.