And its my 100th post

I had a brief notice of it in the morning while coming to office. The sun was high and the atmosphere was the one I have been well acquainted with it. September has just started and there is the herald of winter, the hints of approaching Dashain the biggest festival of Nepalese. I love the atmosphere, as I a child I associated it with colorful kites, dry sky with white smiling clouds and beneath them serene blue like that of a grandfather’s eyes peeping into the world, new clothes, holidays and yummy foods. The hays are ripe, the rice plants ready to be cut and thrashed, the mills busy whistling and its chimney puffing smoke, swings constructed in homes and in open, children running and playing, and bazaars in full life its such a wonderful time of the year. After months of hard work, the farmers are freed and its time their labor yields result. The plants of rice swaying with the air spilling life all over, what a propitious time for festival. Far in the local streets reflections of familiar faces approaching with a smile and with baggage of gifts. What a rejuvenating time, thanks to those who started the culture of celebrating Dashain. Religiously Goddess Durga liberated the world from the evils of demon Mahisasura and lord Ram reclaimed his wife mother Sita by killing Ravana. The muds have dried, everything is beaming in happiness, a new life has come and there’s the sign of a new year, a sign of celebration. The hay smells fresh in the country, and this elates the spirit of the cattle, merry time for them as well.
The dog with its lower teeth protruding to reach its nose, is strolling freely. Its tiny feet are dancing, one after another; as if it were trying to create music with the tap of its padded feet. It looks up in the sky and I wonder if it has just come out watching the happy Pluto in the Disney’s channel. Its eyes smile at me, a bluish spot inside the circular black in its eyes. I cannot be drunk, in my whole life I have tasted wine just twice and there is no way, I come out tipsy; then why is it that everyone looks so happy. What is it in the earth? May be it’s the reflection of my heart, the happiness simmers inside me what I see outside is only its reflection. Its bright, its heyday.
The beggars are there, and a street hawker walks by in dirty pants with holes in it. He searches his pockets, first in his shirt and then his pants finally a coin shines between two fingers of his left hand. I see the coin drop in the begging-bowl of the beggars though I cannot here the sound of its cinkling. What does it make that man to donate his hard earned money, I never do. The beggar has a toddler in her arm, that does not arouse sympathy in me. I loathe people who give birth to children when they are not in a position to sustain themselves. The hawker does not inspire me, I walk past apathetically. The beggar watches me with scorn, I can read her eyes saying in despise ‘See a hawker who won’t earn more than hundred rupees even if he is lucky gives me the only coin with him but you being someone who earn much more are such a miser’. Why would they offend me? Sorry woman I am immune to scorn and despises today. Even in other days your look has no affect on me. I feel for your child, I wish I could do something to children like him wish I was in such a position. If there is really something like sin, then you are a sinner before me at this moment. That is when my toothy dog with his tusks pointing upward comes by my side. He seems to understand, his eyes are so welcoming. He agrees with me, but its not the return of the parathas, and chowmein which I offer to him in the open lunch joint and which he never eats, yet his eyes are appealing. The soldiers standing at the gate of American Embassy seem to be smiling at me. I know they have always stood there, I only do not remember their face, even as I write this, I cannot recognize them. But their smiles look helpless, possibly it is the impact of the SLRs (Self Loading Rifles) they are carrying. They scare my toothy dog, stomping their foot on the ground which makes him wince and they laugh. The dog understand this and wags his tail but now he has come to other side of mine. I feel so happy to have won the trust of the dog. Just before the open lunch joint, he departs. We exchange looks and I smile knowing he cannot read the smile of lips, he is apt at reading only eyes. Hopefully we shall meet in the day but he is a bohemian, a wanderer.