Saavan, the season of tears, is approaching nature recently. While the drizzly raindrops have been chanting with the brolly leaves of Arum Alocasia outside the window of my room, my brother, only two years older than me, less brother and more friend, has been snoring.
I'm writing not because I have recollected uncontrollable emotions, neither I have any zeal to become an author; rather I do have a heart that bestowed its vessels to the tips of fingers of my left hand to create something that I have been recently going through.
Time: 11:34 pm, will be 11:59 pm and 12:01 am later on. If I write by staying awake, the morning will come, if not- I will disappear in the ashes of dreams.
I am a bit unusual if you analyze my behavioral aspect and habitual actions. It doesn’t mean I am a psycho or any abnormal creature or anything else. Living in the age of twenty-three, I generally love to spend time with kids; but when I visit my grandparents, I do also have the ability to speak and act as if I am similarly old like them. Mummy says, “Perhaps you were my guardian in previous life.”
In every problem of hers, I suggest solutions to my third sister who is seven years older than me. My friend who is similar to my age commends,“You are a super-modern guy.”Cousin sister of age-fourteen is always thankful to me because I have been her teacher to help solve her math’s homework. She teases,“You teach better than my teacher." Why not to mention- I am the best friend of my niece of age-two.
If your left eye flaps, it is believed that something is going wrong and you are supposed to hear bad news. Though it is not flapping, it is itching rigorously. Based on my condition, though I am supposed to sleep earlier tonight, I am not able to do so. When I was approaching bed, 'this' girlfriend pushed me a rubbish message, all the anger forced me to stay awake after. At once I watched more than half a dozen vlogs of Sisan Baniya.
Although I felt like ‘I have to sleep now', recently after I plugged the earphones out of my ears, I found something disturbing me sweetly that the rain was singing tap-tap conspiring against my appeal to enter into the quilt of dreams. Now the plan changes- ‘I will be sleeping till 9 in the morning. Let me dance in the song of rain for now.’
"Barsha” is her name. She was my first unattained love. As rain joins with her name, tears join with the rain- upbringing nostalgic sentiments. That D. H. Lawrence had been emotional listening to the song of piano, I have been emotional by the lamentation of rain at the moment.
Suddenly, I remembered my mother saying, “Baabu, please do send some balance in my cell-phone” in the afternoon. Although I said “Sure”, I had an airy wallet that wouldn’t be able to transfer 500 rupees enough instead I had once thought of doing so.
My steps stood dis-balanced on the way to the shop and came back home remembering the thinning wallet that was starving. Such a suffering of penniless casualties I am going through doesn’t mean that I should turn deaf to mother’s demand. ‘Kanchho also became big enough not to nod’ she must have assumed. ‘If I will be able to manage some money by tomorrow, I will off course transfer some balance, mommy. Poverty compels one to go resistant- a bitter truth.’
Knowing my increasing nostalgia and mental wave and blow, rain also began falling cats and dogs. ‘It is fine, burst!’ I suppose it's the perfect time to sob with rain coming out of the window. But from the day after tomorrow, I have exams. ‘It's not good to do that’ I persuade myself. If I fail in exams, neither will I succeed in life nor will anybody be happy. I will get angrier if mommy is annoyed and also the girlfriend. So, to keep smiles on everyone’s face, I have to do well in exams anyhow. Let the rain dance alone. If I stay alive, there will still come thousands of rainy days before I sleep that I can make love with rain for a thousand times later. ‘Good-Night Rain! Let me have a good sleep.’
.…
Either I miss my mother or my girlfriend, as if I have these two options only. Not through the lens of Freudian Psychoanalysis I miss my mom, but as a goddess of love and generosity. Rather I miss my beloved to bring mixed feelings and emotions. Anger, love, compassion, desire, expectation, lust, romance and also the melancholia in parallel mix in my remembrance of her.
Finally I transferred the balance in mom’s cell-phone. Although I thought 500 rupees, I was able to send only two hundred. Even if this much, mom will be happy that Kanchho understood his mom that she was going out of money on her phone. Mercy! If I don't, who else will she expect? I don’t know what else runs the world, but to run life, one undoubtedly needs money. I have learned this diving into the ocean of crisis and extremely lacking circumstances.
And still I am unable to connect with my beloved to talk in a pleading manner up to now. We argued yester-evening though I didn’t precede. In the very afternoon, she had told, “We will be talking glamorously tonight,” and it was also her who had gone against her own sentiments of that day in the evening. ‘What can I do?’
This afternoon, she texted suggesting I stay having snacks. I replied, “I ate Dahi-Chiura, you too eat!” And her reply was beyond my expectation, she had pushed “Ehh!” What a bloody timid lady she is. I had expected something like ‘okay, or sure’ instead of that dry ‘Ehh!’
She is how she is. ‘Mercy! She has the headache of getting moody every time unexpectedly. If the mood falls, it also rises. No worries!’ It is indeed true that she can’t stand herself if I’m not with her; indeed she is the one who as if commits suicide if I am not there because many times she has said, “One annoyed by you the most is the one loves you the most.” Let’s see if she will be alright till the evening.
Today, the morning was splendid. Here the proverb- ‘morning shows the day’ had failed to match its power. Whole day was spent lingering for nothing. I started watching the Jodha-Akbar film, and it was utmost jhoor. After staying forcefully for hardly 20 minutes, I quieted and returned to my bedroom and watched more vlogs of Sisan Baniya.
Sisan Dai is a damn good vlogger I can indeed say. His tone or style of narration is really great. It was refreshing. Vlog about travelling to Kakani with Priyanka Karki and eating trout, Lahana’s Newari dishes special, to the vlog about Palpa were worth watching twice. Let’s see what I am up to. I am contemplating whether to read or to sleep.
Okay, take care! I am alright, hope she will also come back to normality. What we can keep on being is hopeful. Let others be burdened with moody-port. See you soon!!!
…..
In the evening I phoned her. All the conversation had gone thoroughly. And now on Whatsapp, again she bestowed herself making me the responsible one for putting her in a moody condition. Let it be, let another night be spent in silence. Hope everything will be fine by tomorrow. She was imposing that I may not have anything to talk about and so was moodily suggesting that I sleep. I thought if I had asked anything she would have answered from a high court again, so I surrendered.
It is not a good idea to violate sleep every night. How long am I supposed to listen to the make-love of that bloody rain and that raped leaf? What night will this rain sleep in this whole Saawan? It won’t. The whole Monsoon is a honeymoon for her, I will listen to its left-right-left later if I have to.
Tonight, this rain reminds me of my ex-girlfriend having a romance with someone other than me. I am jealous, but not interested.
‘Who else laughs at the same joke many times?’ I am trying to sleep persuaded in such a way; let’s see whether I will be able to. There comes thousands of contemplation to comfort the painful heart if our mind is more motivated with positive perceptions and vibes. If I hadn’t tried to control my heart, hadn’t cooled the wound and hadn’t landed it safely, I would have had committed suicide due to Barsha deceiving me. Second love is also going in-depth, it is sure we will depart though. Yet, love is love, and love will be love, no doubt. It is a wonderful experience to sink and float at the same time, instead of not swimming at all.
If we are afraid of chopping our fingers before we peel the pineapple, we can’t eat it; if the preoccupation of an accident is reminded beforehand, we die without riding a motorbike (will remain pedestrians lifelong). Love is also the same, either will there be deceit or togetherness, let it wander on its own journey. What else? In the same race- in the same motion and speed if we walk as a clock, we won’t reach up to anywhere other than the walls of a house. Rather our living should be similar to the blowing wind, flowing rivers. All rivers reach to the same ocean (destination), but they have their own journey of fun, adventure, pain or else.
Sa-ra-ra-ra-ra…!!!
…..
In fact, Maya and I had consented in the afternoon. The days’ long tussle between Germany and Poland has interrupted. She is satisfied now. No more complaints she has to submit in the court of mine. Up to when, not sure. We both got to the middle point, became liberal, all came back to normal condition.
Do you remember? Day before yester-evening I told you, “Ultimately she wants me and I want her.” She became happy. She was relieved, “Finally, everything has been settled down.” I don’t know why, though I didn’t ask her, she was massively thankful to me. Maybe because she was surprised to find me to be such an extremely cool and tolerant guy. She kept on thanking me until I responded, “It’s okay.”
As I can say, she has returned to her normal condition and now she is okay until her very headache will suffocate her again. Now autumn has begun. Cheers...!!!
We talked for a while on Whatsapp and now it’s time to sleep. Good Night Fellas. Oh, wait! I almost forgot to mention the cry of frog and cricket, neither had I mentioned the yell of jackal. I knew it when I tried to sleep that these rascals were conspiring to overthrow my slumber as rain had conspired some nights before. I am not annoyed tonight instead.
✒️July 21, 2019
