8th June,2008

I must have been wakeup for sometime I thought when I gathered my full consciousness. It was 3:16 when I had watched the clock. I had seen a dream though I don’t recollect what was it? I only remember Buwa was there in my dream. I don’t like seeing dreams as they disturb my sleep. My eyes were wide open when the alarm rang. I looked at the sky, it was cloudy. I remembered the ants running in a line yesterday. When I was young I was told when the ants run like that one must expect a heavy rain. I cannot say for certain how I remembered the ants. The clouds were so black and heavy, I knew it was going to rain heavily. I was unable to decide whether I should go for a morning walk or not. There was no way to fall back to sleep but I could lie in the bed just like that. I got up and without any pre plan I was in my morning walk dress. Amazingly Sane didn’t follow me downstairs; he passed a sluggish look as if he intended to say I won’t wake up now.The empty road suggested like me, many had anticipated the rain and hence there were very few people. Even the heap of sand had no dogs playing on it. I thought about returning home when I reached the main crossroad but again with a careless attitude I continued. Despite the cool breeze, I was sweating profusely. When I moved my hand over my hair I couldn’t say whether it was the water which had not dried after a wash or it was the sweat. A jogger ran leaving me behind. He seemed to be in a hurry to reach home before it rains. I met him again at the gate of holy Guheshwori. He was panting, he gave me a sly smile, I didn’t react.I saw an established columnist, activist, writer on my way to Guheshwori. I wanted to tell him, how I appreciated his style of writing but I disgusted I used to feel at his content. I wanted to tell him that I do not consider him anything but a spineless reactionary. I wanted to tell him what he has done that has given him the power to criticize everyone. People have one standard for themselves while another for others. He was the best example of those people. At the same time I wanted to congratulate him for the way he interpreted John Wood’s book. I had liked it very much.The same bagmati which was flowing yesterday looked at me through its stillness. How temporary was its flow, I took a pity on it, I took a pity on myself for being so helpless. The monkeys were busy searching the pieces of biscuits in the road even they were fewer in number. Today I didn’t want to feel jealous at their carefree life. I walked past through them listening to political chit-chats between the joggers and walkers. I should have felt nice that it didn’t rain but I was rather disappointed. My ears were desperately waiting the beat of the rain drops falling in the leaves of the tree. I love that rhythm. I was at Kailash fifteen minutes later. There must have been people doing yoga but I didn’t notice them. I like watching the boys play football. I was never a sporty in my student life but when I see the boys playing football early in the morning I too want to join them. I think what they will say if I ask them if I could join. Most of them are of my age but I don’t know anyone. I don’t know how to play football but I thought possibly I will enjoy running for the ball. Today a man had done what I wanted to do. He asked the boys if he could play and there he was playing football. I had nothing to fear but I am always in hurry and I don’t to embarrass myself by making the boy laughing at me. I wanted to ponder why did I never got into any games. As a young child, I was told my first priority should be my studies. There will be loads of time for other activities when I finish my studies. I took the advice rather seriously. When I finished studies I knew to play no games. I had learnt a bad lesson.A stream of sweat trickled down my back. I was soon returning home. Thinking is not my intention its my habit. I was lost in thoughts. I was analyzing the term ‘Rajniti’ (Politics), thanks to the movie I watched yesterday. What a proper term they had chosen. There was a similar pattern of thoughts was taking birth and then vanishing in my busy brain. Just then a scoter passed through me, the pillion rider was a lady. It was a known face. I was in same class with her in my school and reconnected with her few months back. After reinventing a good friendship, she got some false impressions of me and left me no room to clarify. I had no reasons to clarify, she was no-one to me but I was jostled. I felt nauseated. That sight brought sent a devastating thunder to the pattern of my thoughts. I was taken into unwanted territory. I hated it. I took a glass of water at home and after finishing it I realized it smelled milk. The glass was not washed properly, I wanted to yell at Sarita but didn’t. Forty five minutes later I was in the training hall of a computer institute.