It's a flat world

The world is indeed flat. Just two days after turning the first page of Friedman’s “The World is flat”, I sit in my chair mesmerized by the proof. Being an IT guy when I get to read how ICT has narrowed the world, how it has created opportunities and how it has played a pivotal role in pushing people dipped in the gulf of poverty into the brightness and prosperity I pat my own shoulders. But having done nothing to contribute to the above mentioned ICTs gifts I do feel low. More importantly being in a country with GDP hardly greater than 1100$ I do wonder if what the field they are talking about is the field where I have claimed my own space. Well, I do not however intend to discuss ICT, the wonderful gifts it has given to the world, I will talk a little about its impact in globalization and its contribution in shrinking the world.
Before I begin with my own experience, I want to remember an old lady with whom I shared the Micro-bus on my way back to home a week before. The old lady, her hair would have all been gray had she not colored them brown. Her skin thick and shiny and her eyes expressive and intelligent. She was telling to another lady how much she was worried when her husband had gone to India for about three months and how difficult it used to be those days to keep in touch with ones folks. Now she said her grandson went to “Amrika” a week before and she talks to him every day, she can even see him as he talks. “We seem to have lived in a different world back then”, she added. Distances are really being chopped off as the prices of PCs have gone down, the networks have embraced the world, fiber optics and wireless communications bringing miracle to world. We are friends with people who we have never really seen in real life, we talk with them watch them as we exchange greetings with them. How small the world has become? My friends live oceans apart but I know what did they have in dinner or breakfast. Stereotype mums today might say after chatting online with her son soon after he left home for abroad, I wouldn’t have cried so much had I known he had gone nowhere but just inside the computer.
Anyways time to begin my experience. People who say they have little work at Government Offices are sometime really right. When you have no work even surfing the Internet is really boring, you miss giggling with your friends, passing comments in their social networking sites only when you are engaged in other work. Even then just yesterday, I was very free and internet had nothing exciting to offer. My friend sent me a nudge over the msn messenger, I ignored like I was no time, even my status said I was busy!!! Of course I was busy wondering what to do. Thinking it had been some time wandering in facebook, I went there just to see what my friends and people were doing. Following the network of a friend I came across a familiar name though I wondered how that name sound familiar. But its face I cannot remember, I usually have no problem recognizing people and names. There she was a classmate from my primary school, grade four and five. Was it her? Fair, mischievous, short hair (we probably used to call that hair cut ‘thai hair cut’), prettiest in the class. The photo in her profile looked different, I did not have a clear image of her look but I knew how she looked. What wrong in sending her a message and there I was writing a short message asking if it was her. I wrote and forgot. The next morning (today) in half sleep I checked my mail and a mail said ‘hi I m from Kshitiz’. The book (Friedman’s “The World is Flat”) was lying flat on my flat table upside down so that I could begin from where I left it. I was in my flat floor scratching my head, I had learned the world is not round, its indeed flat. Someone who literally didn’t exist for me just pops up out of nowhere. Three hours later I am talking with her over the phone, just trying to fit faces we both knew, some we remembered many we missed. It’s a flat world.

@ Home

Today is public holiday to celebrate the installment of president and vice-president in their respective office. We only need a reason to get holiday because government knows there is no work to be done and anyway the employees will gossip, take nap, wander around, litter places and exhaust the scarce fuel so it legitimized the ‘no-work’ by stamping public holiday. After getting accustomed to frequent bandhs even we office goers feel something is missing from our life when there are no bandhs at interval. More than that there were no other holidays apart from weekends last two months and the ever generous government officers who were themselves dying to stay at home, play cards. Even sleeping stretched in a bed after sleeping in the office chair for a long time is quite a change. They have declared public holiday and with no vehicles in the road due to fuel scarcity and students agitation its not different from the beloved bandhs.

I couldn’t go to office yesterday. After stuffing enough meal to survive till lunch time, I hurried to Chabahil to get into whatever I could find to be at office before 10:15. The drizzle, turned into a shower before I was at Chabahil. Surprisingly the road had few vehicles which came from its end and then took an U turn and returned to the place where they had come. After fifteen minutes desperate wait in the flooded road a tempo came and I hurried into it just to be told by the driver that the students are protesting for something and no vehicles will ply beyond Chabahil. Errrgggg…. I was disgusted. Now I knew why many people were walking. There was no point walking all the way to office amid heavy rain so I waited if the rain will stop but no. So at quarter to ten I backtracked toward my home completely irritated. Before that I had asked a cab if it would take me to Thamel, the driver took a thorough look at me top to bottom as if he were picking a prostitute to sleep with and said I would have to get four hundred. I wanted to yell ‘f’ and ‘k’ with ‘u’ and ‘c’ stuffed between at him but as a chicken I pulled out. I wanted to catapult a gob of spit at his eyes and make him blind but then making one blind for mere four hundred rupees so spared him.

I was irritated like a husband whose wife had just ran away with a filthy tenant with all the money and jewelry. My irritation was not for the fact that I couldn’t go to office (what do you think I am Bill Gates that if I take one day leave my office will turn upside down), but because had I known about the strike I would have stayed at home, wouldn’t have ached my legs to come to Chabahil all through that muddy, yucky road with my pants dotted with mud which I needed to wash after getting to office.

At home there were movies to be seen, books to be completed and started, nap to be taken, tv to be watched, I even hadn’t read the newspaper properly. The experience of staying home lonely when its raining outside has a fun of its own. I already have three movies pending and as I marched toward home I doubted if I will watch the movies. I was however certain that I will finish the book as only nine pages remained. I knew I might even start a new book and I was true this time.

Now since it is again a holiday today same plans have prevailed. I have after quite some time have found a book which I want to finish in one sit, only three hundred and sixty seven pages of which fifty is already completed. So, today just a book day for me, an e-book day to be more precise. May be I will write something but there are already more than five cribbles queued to be posted but this one will exceed the priority due to its dependency with date. It will serve no purpose if posted later. Lucky post!!!

I wish my cheeks were bald

Many children have different and wide range of reasons for getting older quickly. I had my own. One of my friends said, he wants to get older because he wanted to shave. In eighth grade I had this friend of mine called Ar. who once surprised me by saying, that morning she smeared the shaving cream all over her face and used her brother’s razor to experience what it feels like when one is shaving? She said among many reasons she hate for being born as girl, one was not getting chances for shave. I didn’t have beard that time and I also had no cravings for beard. I was never excited and prayed god to make me old faster so I can have my chance with shaving. There were few boys in our class who had beard moustache. I never thought they looked better with hair in their face. I always thought they are just the residual relationship between man and his ape counterparts.

Soon the unwelcome guests were growing in my face. I had blisters, irritation and itchy feeling when they started to grow, eventually I learned to adapt with it. Till date they call for irritation if I do not shave them after more than two days. I wonder if instead of beard, paddies or wheat (in smaller version) grew in one’s face that would have alleviated the food crisis in the world. They are the real trouble in bed. I have this habit of sleeping with bare chest in summer. I also move a lot in my sleep and these filthy beard prick me. I get so irritated that I want to wipe away my whole face. Even now as I write this I am feeling like itching my cheeks as I had a shave last Monday. I myself find my face uglier and boring when these unwanted hair sprouts in my face so I take pity on those who have to actually see me frequently.

My friend used to regret being girl for not getting chance to shave and I regret just the opposite way. I wish I could exchange my beard with her smooth cheek. But I don’t think even if it was possible she would now want it because I believe she now knows how irritating it is to shave one’s skin religiously. Actually in metropolis girls shave more frequently than boys, while we shave our cheeks they are more aware of the shrub in their armpit. When I started to have hair in my armpit, I thought it was something I should be shy for. So I used to pluck those hairs one by one with my hand. Gosh!!! It used to be so painful. But I couldn’t do that with beard because beard hairs are much shorter than the hair in armpit. I didn’t even shave them initially so literally I was devolving (read this term ‘devolve’ as opposite to evolve) into a money. Why did they have to grow in my face? One of my brother’s friends felt the same and somebody advised him to scrub his face with one particular kind of stone, few days later he came to school with scratches and abrasions all over his face. Surprisingly I didn’t see beard in his face till I was at school. Last time which is many years back I had seen him and he had beard. I don’t know if he stopped scrubbing his face or his beard had developed the resistance.

With time my body became more fertile for these hair, I had them all over. Many people have them so what’s the big deal, but it was a big deal for me. I hated them; I regarded them as something I should be ashamed of. When they started flourishing in my chest I felt so betrayed by the mother nature, by my genes. I bade goodbye to low neck vests, Bermudas or clothes that exposed my body. I always felt ashamed of them. I used to feel so jealous of people of Oriental origin that if there were sprays available that would sprout hair in human skin, I would have hunted every one of them and sprayed it to them. Nothing of that sort was available. My body resisted to grow up but not my unwanted hair.

Among these species of hair beard was the most detested. Unfortunately in my life I couldn’t learn two things even after trying it for so many time. One is making a knot in the tie and the other is having a clean shave. My cheek is rougher than the upper part of cat’s tongue. Even if I pour an entire tube of shaving cream in my face and have shave I will have no better cheek. As far as tying tie is concerned, if Taare Zamen Par had released during my school days I would have considered myself a case of dyslexia.

Now, I am getting bald. See the tragedy, I have hair in the most unwanted areas and they are falling where I need them the most. In days to come when I stand at the edge of the swimming pool, the other people will think I shaved all my head to stitch the hair all over my body. I already feel nauseated at my image with bald head and creepers like beard and moustache. God why don’t you make me bald in cheek!!!

An incident spiced with fun

Brushing his teeth, S asked what might be U doing now, where might he have reached. U is one of my cousins among many cousins. Yesterday he left the country to seek his future in Australia. I didn’t go to see him off, I don’t like doing those things. We used to go hysteric with laughter on smallest of the matters, however serious the matter could have been we were highly skilled to make it look funny. That is the fun when you have relatives of your age. One thing we loved to do was framing each other, pulling legs and pushing one another to weirdest of circumstances. Me, my brother and two cousins made a great team. After being hooked in the job and due to paucity of time the fun remained only in the memories. Some of the incidents are so funny and freaky that I want to possess them for myself.
So, when S asked the question I remembered one of the funniest incidents. Not very long ago, I used to go to Pashupati at evenings. I enjoyed the chants, evening prayers or ‘aarti’ and the whole ambience. It surprisingly gave me a peace of mind. The atmosphere helped to heal the dizziness of the day, forget the rushes, meetings and the likes. I would sit on the floor of a temple in the courtyard of Pashupati facing the western gate of the main temple watching the gentle clapping of hands, eyes closed in concentration and the attempts to become selfless.
One such evening I found U wandering in the courtyard with his friend K. K is of our age but a little dull and we mock him big time. He has unusual accent and tender hands. I called them and we sat together at first chatting on how good it feels to be in the holy premises at that point of day and other similar stuffs. Then K brought the topics of girls. Beautiful girls also flocked the temple in evenings and it was a bonus deal. They agreed to come in evenings every day.
One evening there it was some kind of auspicious day according to Hindus’ calendar and the temple was more crowded than in any other normal day. I was sitting in my regular place when U and K joined me. After talking for a while, they said they wanted to bow before one special deity in the courtyard and left me to join later. U came back elated. Today is my day he told with delight. I was used to his behavior of elevating things. I was also certain it had to do with girls. So I asked him who he met. He said while offering the prayer there was a beautiful girl by his side and there was a mob around the deity. While offering the flowers and doing the ‘parikrama’ his had touched hers. He looked into her eyes and she looked at him in surprise. He touched her hand again which slowly opened which added to his excitement. He slowly moved his hand into hers and she instead of moving away her hands clutched his hands. They were tender. She was very fast as she did not hesitate to tighten their lock. But due to the crowd they got separated. Now he was looking for the girl.
How did she look? I asked in excitement. She had dark complexion, big eyes and little shorter than him. Believe me I can win that girl if I find her again. K joined us smiling but he is quite an introvert. We had to put enough pressure on him to reveal why he was so much glistening with smile. He said he fell for a girl who was little taller than himself. She was really beautiful, he was thrilled. Now U and I were after him bully him. He responded with his trademark shyness and embarrassment. But yes he was in the seventh heaven. After some time he said the girl had the ring quite similar to that of U. Now I smelled something fishy. I asked where did he find the girl and what happened between them. He said he met her at the same spot where U had met his girl when he was standing little behind U. upon nagging he told the similar thing U had told. They had actually caught each other hands but fell for the same girl. It was so hilarious. There was no way I could stop laughing. U was dropped bang into the ground from the sky and he had gloomy aura. K was embarrassed but I had the fun. I laughed all the way to home. Bound by my nature and my relationship with U, I told all others what had happened. I couldn’t stop laughing even today when S mentioned him and that incident came out of nowhere. It was a classic comedy scene.

Pappu Can't Dance Sala!!!

What is eighteen years for earth but in a man’s life it’s a big span of time. Many times when I remember my childhood it seems perhaps I am thinking about somebody else’s life. How can I do that? Gauss, was I like that? These questions just never stop. In the process of growing up a man go up through so many alterations many times his life changes upside down. When I sit with a mug of tea watching the rain knocking slowly in the pane of my window, I sometime like to watch those memoirs dancing in the pain. Slowly the stream of water wipes them away; the vapor of the hot coffee makes everything so surrealist. I wish I was always like that.
While turning the photo album I encounter so many immortalized moments and one of them is from eighteen years back. The photo was taken when I was receiving an award from then Education Minister. Clad in a white uniform, the photo is taken just when I step to the podium with one leg raised little above the ground. I remember I got two prizes that day one for being the highest scorer in the class and other for being a participant in a dance show. I think there were two dances in which I participated perhaps in one it was me and some girl and the other was a group dance. That was the first time I was receiving an award, in fact that was the first time any event had been organized in our school. I do not remember the song in which I danced nor do I have bleakest images of other members of my group. I even do not remember getting any compliments for dancing but there were many compliments for scoring highest mark. I cannot imagine how a grade one child would feel while shaking hand with a minister. Probably my small hands must have disappeared inside his hand. I came home elated to show it to mummy as she had missed the program because she worked in an office which didn’t give her leave.
I never danced for many years, even if I did I do not remember. Mummy says she used to be a good dancer in school but I never saw her dance either until I was a full grown teen ager. Then I danced in the wedding of one of my cousins’ wedding. Its must have been fourteen years back. I tapped to the most popular hindi songs of that time. Everyone appreciated it and I danced for more than an hour remembering almost all the moves performed by the actors. I had jumped, shook my hip, did some trick in the floor etc. When I was doing a move which required me to raise myself on one hand moving the other pointed in the air, my uncle came running to me because he thought I had fallen down due to exhaustion. That was a great fun, and my relatives kept mentioning that dance for a pretty long time. No events followed in which I could show my dancing talent as I had now assumed I can dance well. Then again there was another wedding in the neighborhood where again I had chance to shake my body. To my own surprise I couldn’t perform any moves, I knew the moves yet I couldn’t bring it to life. To forget anything is never a relief, it usually ends up with frustrations. There were no events and I never danced at home because I had carved one thing in mind ‘Study is the first priority’ and always took other activities as waste of time. The sick competition never allowed me to pick a hobby; it was such a boring bookish childhood.
In college again I was the most boring student. If there was a decree of executing the boring people, I would have been the first pick. The people they try to depict as the boring and lousy character is no exaggeration I was more or less similar. I still look the same but not got a spring. In the undergrad I had the same image of an owl with a glass, icy bookworm. But by then I was a changed man in my real personal life, I loved to dance. Dance to me was just shaking, jumping being funny. I could remember all the steps, the movement of leg, the body posture, the expression and could actually visualize it but could never execute it. But dancing is all about enjoying oneself unless you dance to earn your living. I to date carefully watch the steps they do while dancing and can still visualize it but still cannot execute it. I have been a shy idiot though no longer any more. To kill one’s interest is a crime one commits upon oneself and I am my own criminal. Many times even when I had chance I shrouded myself and today I hate myself for doing that.
The dancing bug is still inside me in same spirit and vigor. I feel if I can completely ignore others presence and really dance for myself I can dance but no I just can’t do it. The bug had me completely in spell when I was in Trishuli, I was also gaining weight so somebody advised me dancing can help me loose weight. I got a good reason. In Trishuli I would wake up early put the head phones, pull the curtain, raised the volume of the song to its maximum and danced the same monkey dance. Whenever I listened the same song I knew what the perfect move should have been in a particular line and when I was actually dancing I danced like milk shake in the mixy. I loved to have that bug inside me, one morning I danced so much that when I completed and sat down to take some rest I could not stand up. I thought I had fainted. My whole body was aching. I was feeling terrible in my neck, my back was killing me and lets not talk about my legs. I had to take the day off because I just couldn’t move. It was so embarrassing. From the next day there was no morning dance yet I relished on my monkey’s game time and again.
During my parents’ anniversary though the most pathetic dancer I was the one who was always dancing never tired. Now everyone in our family knows about the dancing bug inside me. Then came one dashain when we had so many enthusiastic young people at our home, I danced with the kids, with the ladies with everyone like a maniac. That has gone in silver color in the history of my family. Now whenever there is any program one person is remembered when it comes to dancing. I can dance in the wedding in the streets along with the paid pipers. I am no ashamed of my interest though I wish I could actually dance. I sent one video of my dance to my cousin sister because I had never seen anything silliest in the name of dancing in my entire life. Though I should have been embarrassed for sending that video, Santosh was embarrassed.
Its been a while that I haven’t danced. I know I cannot dance but what’s wrong in enjoying the silly jumpings. When there are opportunities to enjoy life one should keep skills aside and just enjoy.

Yet another Friday

Yet another Friday, a long awaited one though. One obviously misses being in water in the summer that is so adamant to waste some life out of the earth. The day was so desperately missed from last Saturday. On Fridays we these days sneak out of our office little early and head straight to the club to have a good swim. I don’t know swimming though but it seems I am in the right track. Subash sir was equally heated for this day. I went office in informal dress as if I were on a trekking. The worn out trousers with big pockets and a vest with huge collar looked a good choice. Who cares for formality in government offices. I can even go in a Bermuda with a noisy ‘chappal’. I usually stay away from formal outfit but my father says I have to be formal being an officer. I am in jeans, vests with a North-Face bag hanging in my bag. Because I am short and chubby, my colleagues say I look like a school boy.
I was all kicked when I left for office but for unknown reasons my enthusiasm died out like the air gushes out of a balloon when its end opens. I know I am moody. I try to think why these sorts of things do happen to me but that must be some kind of ‘chemical locha’ in the brain and unfortunately I am already twisted. The day turned out to be the major let down. When I went to Subash sir’s cubicle he yelled you unlucky monkey every time since we started to go for swimming Fridays are gloomier. It was so hot yesterday and see what your ugly luck has done, it will rain anytime.
I retaliated with a punch in his belly cursing him for being the real misfortune. You were born when the god mistakenly dropped a whole packet of chilly powder in his dick and he poured all his frustrations in you. You are a bane in my life, why didn’t you drown last Friday. That goes on between us.
I really wished we didn’t have to go but he was already exhilarated especially after seeing the fuming hot girls last time. I couldn’t ask him to cancel the plan as I knew how much he wanted to be at the pool so we left office an hour earlier. Before we could reach the pool the sky started sprinkling the holy water to the earth. We again cursed each other luckily I gathered some energy and the thought of getting into the water thrilled me once again. Before it could die, I changed fast and soon ran into the pool. i do not dive because I can’t. Last Subash sir and other friends instigated me to dive and I as a fool dived into the water and almost burst my chest. I had spasms for more than five minutes. So no diving for me until I know how to swim. Thrilled by the feel of water I at once started to swim (splashing water with foot) but retarded citing twists in the intestine. It was painful and I knew I was hungry. I stayed there in water for a while and then fought back. It was worst, last time I could at least cross the pool in one breath and could float on the water but this week I had forgotten everything. Hell, swimming is not remembering the multiplication table, how can I forget it. It pissed me off more. The nature plotted against me and the sun went into hiding. After wasting some energy I tried to spit out the negativity and started fresh. Soon it brought results, I was doing like last week and this time I was also moving hand. I realized moving hand squeezes more energy. Despite many attempts to get my head out of the water to gasp, I couldn’t and could not cross the pool.
Tired, exhausted and pissed off we retired soon. I have not given up there is a long way to go.

Skirt Musings

While walking on the empty roads with sparse traffic, I took pity on the school kids who had to leave home early to be at school. They spend more than eight hours in school. When I was in school I always wished that school days were over soon, except for friends there were nothing interesting about school. I don’t thing anything has changed since then. I asked my 8th grade cousin last week if she likes school and her abrupt reply was no. isn’t there anything good about school I inquired and her reply was of course there is. So what is it? And her reply was Lasata. Lasata is her best friend so still there is one reason that tops the chart of reasons for going school and that is friends.
Though basic things and the theme of school is still same, there are influences of speeding time on schools. Out of many things mummy finds the current dress code of schools rather intolerable. She laments schools these days command no discipline they teach children to forget their culture be unnecessarily flamboyant and highly receptive to shameful and outrageous western culture. I know she is referring to the shortening length of skirts. I wittily say don’t they look sexier mummy and she assuming I will never be serious (except during the bouts of depression). She complains “you people will never learn to respect our culture”.
The sight of girl, the length of whose skirt would have arousing effect upon many men brought the conversation I had with mummy few days back, back to my mind. She must be in 8th grade not more than that. She had folded her skirt at her belly so that it would be few inches above her knees. Many college girls use skirt just as a loin to cover their knickers. They sit rather uncomfortably when it comes to sitting and all straight men always try to peep between her legs, and feel greedy of the legs. When it’s a loose skirt there is always a chance for the wind to blow them and make the days of the gazers but girls are more intelligent then boys, their skirts are wrapper skirts or designed in ways that they cannot be blown. Few weeks back I was walking along chabahil when a girl in Scottie was coming from opposite direction. Triggered by my naughtiness I wished the air will blow the skirt. Believe me sometimes your wicked wishes are fulfilled. Just then a strong whiff of air blew her skirts and her red undergarment got a chance to see the world from a Scottie.


It seems our school were in other planets when it comes to things students do and wear these days. In our days skirts ought to be below the knees. If anyone had the audacity to show knees, stern actions awaited them, but when we were in secondary classes changes seem to make its presence felt. This is the time most of the children grow up faster. No one wanted two-three pairs of school uniform and we all were from middleclass which meant our parents could not afford new uniform twice a year. In fact unless our trousers just few inches below the knees we got no new dress. For girls same theory of economy applied so the girls who grew faster had to adjust in their old skirts. They wore skirts much below the belly just to hide their legs but eventually a time would come when to hide their knees they had to wear the skirt below the hip. So, better to show knees than to show other parts. We had girls who wore knee length skirts but they were always under strict scrutiny of boys eyes. We were not aware of fashion, if anything different can be done with attitude that becomes fashion these days. Those were dull days, innovation was usually unwelcome. Even then ours has always been a non-conservative society. Our thoughts were only influenced by what our fathers and ancestors did. Change is always repelled and always met with obstructions. But when the media became powerful and we could see and read the outside world the inevitable change prevailed. Except for few prying eyes, we have been highly receptive to change. Among changes fashion has been something that changes itself more often than others and here we are relishing on the sexy changes that have come along.

Weekends

I gave the morning walk a miss today. In fact I was very tired after swimming yesterday especially after I thought I could float in water. One deep breath and I crossed the pool to reach the other end. It was tiresome but the fact that I had started learning didn't allow me to stop. At home my left leg ached and so did my shoulder but no regret as today is a weekend. My weekends are no different than any working days as I still spend most of the time before the computer. I more or less do the same things, go to the internet read things and sit idle. Weekend allows me to change my position while I sit idle. No chairs on weekend. I stretch myself in the sofa or in the low bed or sit on the floor with my legs still spread or folded as if it were some kind of 'asan' of a yoga.

I hate going out on weekends but I would love to travel. Unfortunately I haven't travelled in last one year. I with a small group of friends had planned to foray the outskirts of Kathmandu or to another district in the New Year's day which didn't materialize. No travel means no change, no rejuvenation. I like to feel lonely when I travel. I do not like travelling alone a friend is always welcome but once we set out I want him to be just another stranger, no talks, no nothing. I just want to watch and ponder. Nothing gives more energy than being in a new place by choice.

My weekends have small differences with week days. For example I never drink milk tea early morning in weekdays but without a milk tea in a weekend's morning it seems little incomplete. On weekdays I feel content reading the headlines of a newspaper while on weekends I try to read the content below the headlines as well. On weekdays not more than one newspaper but on weekend I usually get three, one Nepali , one English, and other an entertainment magazine. Had it been possible I would always take a nap after the morning meal so at least on weekend I do not want to miss them. I check my mailbox more than often though they always show I have no new mail. Most of my day passes watching TV, reading books etc. Lunch in home, a little time with family, caress Sane more than often and giggle with Sarita and that's my weekend. Sometime if there is a good release I relish on movies. Depending on the nature of my wish I either go to the cinema or get DVDs at home. If the interest is bigger I hit to the cinema halls if its just a normal wish then I get the DVDs. Sometime if I make it to New-Road I get 4-5 DVDs and spend a whole weekend watching those movies. Its not possible to get every Hollywood flick in Kathmandu in fact there are no big names so I bring DVDs reading the brief information on the movie on its cover. Most of the time I end up spending money on bogus DVDs. I have to bath Sane as well on most weekends. I take bath in the day, sip another cup of tea on a regular weekend.

Though I go to theaters alone when there are exception especially my craving for the movie takes over the waiting my friend to get free some other times, most of the time its with Bibek. I have only two friends with whom I share my time Subash and Bibek. When Chapagain sir was here, I enjoyed his company as well but now he is in Norway so only two close friends for me. Our normal movie time is 11 to 2 or 2 to 5 but in summer both these timings are not appropriate. Having no bike is quite a pain. I hope I will have one pretty soon. Then there will be loads of travelling, loads of visit to outskirts of Kathmandu but for the time being I have to keep postponing them.

Most of the people clean their room but being a pig in my earlier birth I have the symptoms till date so no cleaning things for me. Earlier I used to plan though most of the time they didn't materialize but I have got wiser and I don't even plan these days. My room is a complete mess, there are books sparsely spread around, the newspaper lying wide open on the floor, there are clothes on the sofa, the bed is not properly made and has creases. The snakes like wires of laptop, mobile, mosquito repellant, headphone, electric shaver are lying on the floor. The fur of Sane is in the carpet, luckily today there are no layers of dust in my table and book rack. When I am returning home I always see two ragged beggar looking men sitting on the pile of stinky garbage with suspicious comfort. Apart from a dirty thin piece of cloth wrapped around their belly extending to knees most of their body is bare. They sit on that pile of garbage as if they were lord Shiva meditating on the hills of Kailash. Had there been no mummy my room would have been no different than that pile but I am sure they wouldn't have been stinky. Though I am a pig, I am a pig with a class.

Sometime I am also visiting some relatives on weekends but again they are always a NO unless there are important things to do or if I am invited. I do not want guests not even friends on weekends. I would love hearing sounds of my mother, buwa, Santosh, Sarita and whining of Sane on weekends but avoid spending much time with them. Weekends are days when I want to be with myself or with books. The sound of my people is only to make me realize that I exist in this world in physicality not only in thoughts.

Yuppy!!!! I learnt swimming

The weekend has finally arrived in spite of days that were reluctant to pass away. Not always new things happen in life, not every week is exciting, most of them are routine, expected. Office is not exciting at all. Apart from guarding the chair there is nothing much to do. Today while talking to a colleague I learnt he is not less frustrated than me. He said he has headache just because the days are so boring, each and every day in a week has to be passed idle.
Today there was some program, a seminar if I got it right. Our department had organized it, even if it had not organized the paper presenters were from our department and most of us were uninvited. May be it was an attempt to cut down economy. No hard feelings though because of two reasons. First because I was not invited I could go for swimming and I am now close to learning it properly. The second thing is I have been relieved from the burden of taking moral responsibilities when anything wrong goes in the work done by our department because why should I bother about products in which the department didn’t want my participation.
Anyways I think I have learnt quite a lot on how to swim. Learning a new thing is always exciting, it seems so precious however trivial it may appear. I think I will learn it completely after two practices. The swimming was wonderful from another view point as well. We had the company of loads of beautiful girls and one was too beautiful to forget.
I was kicked about the whole swimming thing because it was a sweltering day. On my way to the pool I was sweating profusely and in fact I was already drenched in sweat if not water. It had made me more excited but alas when I reached the spot the sun had calmed down. It had hidden itself behind the black clouds and it was no longer hot. Kathmandu has unevenly distributed habitation, when there is no space in some places few are open and so the climate itself varies within its small area. The spot is cooler than the heart of Kathmandu and when there is no sun that means one won’t be able to enjoy swimming. Just like the heat that had drastically dropped, my excitement was no longer in the proximity of my sight. I got into the water which was warmer than the outside environment; otherwise it would have been really cold to swim. I splashed in the water whose level prohibited it from rising higher than my neck. This is just the second time I have visited the swimming pool and last time I just moved around. I was exuberant thinking that I have started floating and I could even gather some distance inside the water. Wow, I was learning but in vain I realized I couldn’t take breath and bring my head above the surface of water. After reaching a short distance I gasped for air. It was so frustrating, wouldn’t I learn swimming. My friend tried to empower me with some tricks, dos and don’ts and I tried them. I watched as other people swam and tried imitating them but I couldn’t get air and always gasped after covering not more than two meters.
As I sat on the turf watching others swim I fumbled upon how the early men learnt to swim. We learn so many things from mistakes from accidents etc. Many of our precious knowledge have their roots in our blunders. I always have theory for myself for my own questions. I thought may be the ice started to melt as the temperature of the earth began to rise toward the end of the ice age. Early men who were used to walking on ice as they discovered new lands in search of food and shelter, but when ice started melting it must have become really difficult. The same ice which used to be tough and stiff would now crash as one set foot on it. Many of them must have drowned to death while many made attempts in desperation to save their lives. Possibly this attempt helped them learn that one can actually float in water.
Well that is only my guess. May be they tried to float in water after seeing fish and sea animals move inside water without difficulty. They must have tried again and again until they actually learnt how to swim. I however doubt people started swimming after Archimedes brought his theory on water pressure. Learning to swim was indeed a great accomplishment.
I do not give hope easily and there I was again in the water but failed and failed and failed. Then two noble people one of whom had seen me trying to learn swimming last week came to my aid. They not only gave me some tricks but actually helped me implement the trick. Wow in my second attempt I was on the other side of the pool. I had crossed it. I was learning and I had learnt something. It was drizzling but my excitement had only gone higher and I kept practicing and every time I was more kicked.
We hurried back to home when the black clouds had become really scary. I hope to learn swimming after two more visits.