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Few meters away, a handsome, middle-aged PLA comrade lands with a camouflage dress, debonair, but withal a shrewd and alert. I guessed he is a chief guest’s guard. A middle age man with mustache walk behind him. The huge mass turn chaotic and undeferential scene replete with pushing, shoving and scuffling. It turns out like a tumultuous welcome. The chief guest hover his tight fist and signal the infamous red salute. Everyone mimics in harmony. I was alone confused and numb. An alert PLA guard was staring me. I didn’t know what to do but I raised my hand too.

A young feisty cadre or called it comrade formal way, immediately approach the supremo in mustache, all these welcomer’s looks like engineered for extremely powerful rhetoric , ensuing crowd to react emotionally or called it erratically. The moment already charged with the republic spirit, electrifying mind & soul, along with their coterie watching & handling scuffling crowds. The charming calm comrade in rows seated in plastic chairs are better known for their sublime skill in provokingly witty impromptu, intertwined with new republica words literally never heard before, perhaps I just became a citizen of fledgy republic, the mix is in the speech which sounded like a biter spat, like bellowing out for the common reason, so impeccable line to replete the poor man thrust for justice, in fact it deepen in the heart of followers. As crowd applaud, his forehead nerves widens like he turns in severe anaemia. His skin flickers in blue, dry and pale and continue evoking crowds with breathtakingly speech. He interrupt his speech, In sudden crowd calm down in pin dropped silent, a second he inhale fresh air, raise his feast and his palm signaling to wait. Next few second, Before magnifying two socket to back side underdogs, he hunch a bit to navigate the front row crowds, he points people and ask – “Now tell me, is this the changes we were looking for?” he said with hypnotized look. My eyes encounter his terrifying nerves bugling fresh bloods, looks like the it signal to transfuse blood from the reservoirs, i can see it pumps fast flowing blood towards forehead, neck And then I see The facial color clearly changing. He recharged again for flawless revolutionary speech. Crowd seems turn crazy. He declares in high pitch ..”Unelected defeated puppet rules you, the winner are thrown out. Is it call People’s Nepal. How you define our verdict?, you tell me ..you ..you I meant you ”

He stares at me. I felt embarrass and turned back and looked. To my surprise, All were actually staring at me.  The index finger was pointing to me. I was confused and sweating. “Yes gentleman, you tell me how do you define people’s verdicts?”

I winced, hesitated, then finally stutter:” It’s you ..u..u..u..comrade..you deserve”

His birds eyes focused towards the edge of crowds with a over loud voice. He gracefully announced “Its people that says so we have to bring down the system again. We must establish the supreme power of people. Let our martyrs dream not go in vain. Are you ready for the ultimate revolts, my dear comrade?”

The voice in harmony like the chorus sings in synchronized as it felt like all vowed in one loudest voice I had ever heard .. “YES! ….YES!! …. YES!!!..we are!”

The YES echoed made through my eardrum. The “YES” hits so hard that I had to shake,shuffle & bang my head to flush the vibration.

Its been a month, even after reaching thousands of mile away. I hear echo dominantly. It started from one ear and gradually shifted to the next. I checked up thoroughly, my doctor says I am weak. He has prescribed some multivitamins but My echo stubbornly  desist all the vitamins I consume everdays.

I wonder how should I get rid of it, Please help My dear Supremo?

Finally, The hard penance  start shedding. And flame laden air fading slowly far away as Cold stiff breeze blows from all direction. I switched off my cooler. I sighed that was holding for months, I made comforts & murmur myself, like a split-personality, I was waiting you since a year and you made it late. So late I thought you forgot the monsoon. So late that you lost all mist & moist on the way.  I thought it should have been my Aug monsoon in Kochi when  I cursed the sky to turn baleful and remain silent for a day.  I smiled lopsidedly, accepted that Hyderabad is not Kochi after all.

I missed this monsoon dearly. This sickness drags me back in those days when I was a marathon kid, tireless energy amidst insane rains turns us to chant a rhyme that echoed around Butwal “Hara Hara Mahadev Pani day, Yeti lay pugayna Ajhai day”  (Hey Mahadadev Give us more rains, its not enough add more), a group of friend like a  nude ascetic warriors were gaining strength from the monsoon. And all the neighbors watched us joyously. We lost our shame and shyness. The monsoon proved us there is day for everyone.

Sinamangal & Aroma of Barbecue

The surrounding looks  gross and different. Decades old airport  is tired,weak &  fragile. The village in eastern hills appeal me its concrete jungle. The  greenery scenic beauty with the tapestry of burgeoning real-sate affairs looks like invaders. Those empty play grounds now succumbed to bulldozers and,  a new colony on raise  repleting with modern conveniences. It looks Kathmandu underwent  in big damn tectonic shift.

As I was about to turn left, I saw almost a dozen young villagers. Family in tearful eyes clearly visible, perhaps asking to stay back in home at least for Dashain. An every sons, with their dream to bring back prosperity and new hope are so firmed,  gives no heed.  The boys ready to  bare all the encroaching heat of Arab summer.  All the new hope for my motherland.

At the west, Nagarjun hill looks so beautiful. It tells me how reach it has become, a dense dark green jungle. Atop a white object is still visible. Since those early 90’s, I had some kinds of fairy tale about it.

In few minutes, The smooth pitched merge with 2 lane cracked ring-road, gracefully sleeping on cow dung. My eyes so desperate to see northern Himalayas but the beauty of Kathmandu is covered with billboards, displaying women adorned in gold jewelery, Cigarette proving once again the taste of success,  erotic model provoking to taste  Indra ’s Amreet, and lots of new brand Noodles.  I was reeling through the visual feast of attractive billboard, I saw a glimpse of Sinamangal. Where I had spent some good bad days of my life.  As I was about to reach the crossroad, the aroma of Sinamagnal barbecue goes through my nostrils. So compulsive, force me to taste it.

Hill Changes Color

Oh! Look my valley sand. Its sparking, scintillating as doing since thousands years ago. Quartz grains  in gray sand seems like compressed and melted pieces of glittering diamonds.  Once  A huge lake reign this gigantic valley,  time passed and mythic tells, Goddess Manjushree broke Chobhar gorge and drained away the waters to establish a habitable land. The remains of the huge lake is my Kathmandu.

The snaky highway of Kathmandu has story of ghoulish wreck. Narrow road, You have to watch your move and other side very carefully. As I reached near Little Angles School, I start recalling days when I used to visit to see one my cousin who was pursuing her High School degree. The school used to be in middle of field, as time has passed so fast, the whole area has became lavish. But still same cold fresh breeze spells out from Himalayas, pull you back to past, some unchanged story of Hatiban.

I was moving crossing the small bridge where a stream moves south to north, saw a Hiphop chick in loosed lowrider jeans with ipods, pushing the limit of the paint, revealing gleam looks of her pantie. The other spiky hair chaps, with a cap, wearing opulent pieces of jewelery around neck, with a trademark hollow denim blue jeans  almost revealing the half of his butt  and the unconventional oversize jeans crunch against the timberland shoes. The T-shirt was long enough to  cover the entire torso. Both of them in The iPod earphones,  slung around their necks so they could murmur together, giggling as they hear some hiphop songs.

Few Km. away from Hatiban, Into the road dashed, old men in threadbare sport coat, women with traditional newari dress and 7-year-olds with protruding bellybuttons ploughing with spirit. No matter what ages they are. The season has come to harvest the crops and enjoy the long awaited moment.

You go to the hill side, you see a wattle and daub house, roofed with rice straw thatch.  I could make the living standard guess . Whether its terracotta tiles or metal roof or cemented, All reflects something. A decade ago, I have seen a lot of field around and more than enough  straw thatch of a  typical farm cum home. Its like you have hens, sheep, goats, cow, buffalo living just near you and of of course their waste turning organic fertilizer. A ground floor like storehouse, store your crops, maze and vegetables. The guest are beseated in the veranda of ground floor. You find no sofa or something you have right in your house. Just sit in handmade mat and enjoy the feelings.  In side of the room, A wooden ladder take you 1st floor, usually  find peaceful clean room and the kitchen at the topmost floor. A typical Newar’s house. The waste never to be wasted. Just few meters, you see reach field with vegetables. They dig it and pour all organic fertilizer. Do I see Jyapu here now? Jyapu in local slang, which literally means a hardworking deeds, is common term to refer the farmer especially from Newar community . The Valley Hindus tradition tells that laboring sacred Cow in the field invites cursed  from Pasupatinath, which is Lord Shiva. Here Hindu discriminate Cow and Buffalo as different breeds.  They scarified Buffalo in thousands but The cow represents  religion. A well perceived Hinduism inside the valley and especially Newars enjoy it like anything.

I saw some remaining sands hill atop of rich muddy field. And few kids climbing up like a Everest mission. Its a playing ground where you have more fun if you fall down. It should have been those wonderful days as like I  ran in Tribhesuwan Airport surrounding sand hills, I ran from the peak, like a 100m sprinter, steep down to the base, and get back ready for another small sand hill. I had no fear to be caught. There were no fence atop to stop me. There were no camouflaged troops with M15 machine gun to shoot me. I just kept running breathless running to reach the runway. Like, I had no fear swimming against high current of Tinau river. I had no fear losing myself. I had no fear reaching my dreams.

Outside, mid July, afternoon sun blazed. It was unberabley hot. An occasional breezed that strayed through the tree seems laden with flames. I could not bear to look out. Flames seemed to hang over the fields. The sand beyond was white hot and I dared not keep my eyes on it for more than minute.

I was desperately hoping for the rain. The June ends and passed on, July comes gracefully, still no rain. Have you seen such monsoon? No I didn’t?. I should have seen the newly sprouted shoots of grass all over. I should have seen enchanting greenery like in Kerala. Like in Butwal.

I hate this Hyderabadi season. Literally, I was looking for reason. A compelling reason to skip hustling bustling hot-with-humid-from hussein-sagar city.

I got an invitation, from Jaipuri smart buddy. When you are offmood and something comes out of the blue. You think you can be a part of that for a time. Here me, myself, getting ready for 3 days trip to Jaipur, and the reason u think of that hot Hyderbadi summer, I was literally fool, I am going towards the hottest area I ever experienced.

A long way journey seems tiresome. I thought of Flight, but being adventurous. I made up mind for a Train. Train, well that sounds pretty long journey. Almost, 24hrs from Hyderabad to Delhi. And 5 hrs bus drive from Delhi to Jaipur, sounds pretty much. I though of relaxing and burning down my pressure! I never thought of deciding like this. But what you call journey without train or a bus or even a bike ..!

I have seen breathtaking sights, walked beautiful beaches and met amazing people in India. I was really desperate to experience the Pink City of India.
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