I know Gopal Bahadur Ghale is a dubious character but I am pretty certain he did not delete his articles by himself. So what could have happened?

We have heard of stories about the ‘Government’ having ‘made disappear’ the ‘Maoists’ and the ‘Maoists’ having ‘made disappear’ the ‘people’. Nevertheless, Gopal Bahadur Ghale, who is a part of ‘us’, was surprised when he realized today that he had been ‘made disappear’ at this site. Thank goodness, though, that the disappearance was not in its entirety; he could still login and post a new article, this one. No cause for lament but a sure cause for concern.

Investigation is an addictive game. I have played it often. I know you have played it too. However, I do not intend to be a detective and do not wish to take the pains of digging through the bytes. Does it matter much that a character is killed?

Species have become extinct. Languages have become extinct. Extinction is almost a predecessor, nay the foundation, of progress.

I do not know when Gopal Bahadur Ghale was ‘made disappear’ and it did not matter to me till I noticed it today. Sleeping, huh! If some other character, say Ful Maya Gharti, was ‘made disappear’ and if it was not ‘my character’ or ‘me’, it would not have mattered much to me, may be. Cruel, huh! But now that I ‘know’ that ‘my’ Gopal Bahadur Ghale was ‘made disappear’, I am making this itsy-bitsy-teenie-weenie fuss.

We make fusses all the time, sometimes at the right places, sometimes at the wrong places. The other day, a colleague of mine, was making a fuss about the letter ‘O’ and the digit ‘0′ looking too similar and creating hell of a confusion in this world. Some make fuss about uniformity while some make fuss about diversity. Right or wrong, you decide; is relative, as always.

Bottom line, Gopal Bahadur Ghale is who he is, whether published or unpublished, whether ‘made disappear’ or ‘made appear’.

Note: This article is a fantasy on disappearance and does not necessarily mean that Gopal Bahadur Ghale was ‘made disappear’, blog-wise or otherwise. 

 Ashish Adhikari

Moorhead USA,

Why did the 9/11 occur? Why do fights occur? What is the reason behind fallouts? The unanimous answer to all these questions is Anger. This is the very thing that creates misunderstandings between people. In this article, I would like to explain my viewpoints of anger and how it has affected me.

Like most people, I do get angry. Sometimes resulting in a lot of physical and physiological damage to or from my family. Some unknown person or say stranger or myself. I do not like getting angry but it is a human process especially with teenagers and mood swings from incidents like, leaving old friends behind its natural for me to swing. My main reason for getting angry is probably misunderstandings. My mood swings usually go in a sketchy cycle too.

After getting angry however I often want to repent but my mind does not let me. It wants its status and not believes in the whole ‘being the better guy’ thing by saying sorry first. I usually feel sorry for the person I got angry with or maybe even other things. I do end up saying sorry if they do not but this takes longer than a week. This is not the end of my so-called ‘cycle of anger’. I also think of things like ‘ if I had said or did not say this would have happened’ kind of things to. I usually blame myself for the argument, I get angry with myself, and then someone triggers me off so off I go again through my angry cycle.

By now you probably think of me as a mad, crazy, and power-hungry psycho in need for mental surgery and treatment but I am not in need of that at all. I am usually flourishing and happy but I am probably the leaving of friends is putting me down well anyway that was my anger and me. Thank you for reading my article.

Farewell Chicago

By Ayush Adhikari -Class-8 (13 Years)                                       

Horizon Middle School

Moorhead, USA

“Ah! Welcome, Mr. Jordan,” said a tall, young man with a black suit and tie. He seemed to look like the host of tonight’s show, with me as their guest of honor.

“Hello,” I replied and waved. He came closer and asked,

“How are you?” 

“All well,” I said with a handshake. 

“Where do I go?” I asked. He pointed to a fancy, green door, with a placard of my name “MR. JORDAN.”

“Thanks,” I said with gratitude, and went there.  “By the way Mr. Jordan, the show will start in ten minutes,” he said as I was walking. I nodded and proceeded.

When I went in, I saw some people. They looked like the “make up” workers. They instructed me and I followed.

Later when ten minutes had passed, the Moderator told everyone to get in position. It looked like the show was about to start. After the intro’s done by the host, he announced “Make your way for Mr. Michael Jordan.” Seconds later some worker told me to go. I was a bit nervous, but I proceeded.

I heard claps and cheers when I got there. The theatre room was very big with two floors. I was very amazed.

“Hi everybody,” I said with amazement, “And thank you all for being here. This really means a lot to me.” Many clapped and I heard some cheers.

Anyway, today I will tell you about the disastrous day in Chicago, the day where everything was falling apart.” Everyone was listening closely.

“It happened sixty years ago on the year 1871.”

“Two days before the fire, I was promoted to join the Chicago Fire Department. Since I was 6, wanting to be a part of the Chicago Fire Department was a dream come true. My Dad, Montgomery Borat Jordan would come home everyday from work, and bring back great stories about the burning buildings and the people that were involved in the fire. If it wasn’t for my dad’s inspiration I probably would never want to become a firefighter, and ever since those times, firefighters were my life.

When I got in front of the building, I looked up and felt as if it was going to fall on me. Minutes later, I entered with a deep breath and exhaled it when I got inside. I looked around and saw the reception desk, and went there. I was amazed by the space of the room along the way. When I got there, a blonde lady greeted me. “How may I help you sir,” she asked pleasantly “Well, do you know what time I meet Mr. Schauffer?” She looked down at a hand written paper.

“Last name please,” she asked.

“J-Jordan,” I said back. 

“Is it Michael Jordan?” I nodded.

“He will meet you now.” she called a worker, and he looked like a janitor. “Kevin, could you please show this man to the boss’s room.” “Sure, follow me lad.” He sounded Irish. I followed and we went through a very long staircase. I barely thought I would survive it.

When we finally got to the fourth floor, we headed to Mr. Schauffer’s room.  His fancy brown door had a golden door knob and a placard saying “Mr. Schauffer” on it. I felt light headed and felt shiver through my spine. I took a deep breath, and slowly moved my arm up. I knocked and waited. 

 ”Come in,” said a deep voice. I entered and the small old man was handwriting some things. I waited there for two minutes. He finally said, “Please sit, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem,” I said. I sat down on a comfy, wooden chair and I was given a handwritten form of where my station was. When he looked up and saw me, he said “You look like Monty’s boy?”

“Yes sir, I am the son of Monty Jordan,” I said as I gave him my handwritten form from college. Right after he looked at that, he took my form and said,

“Sorry, you don’t belong here.”

He took me to a room with a placard saying “HIGHER CLASS.” I was confused. A while later he said,

“Um, this is where you will be working. It is the place where our best people work.”

I was happy and emotional. This was my dream to work for the best class.

After I daydreamed, He took me in and showed me people building steam engines. I was also taken to an ace team named squad number six.

“Hello Michael, I am James Chamberlain the leader of squad six.” I was amazed, that I would get an opportunity to work with no one but Joe himself.

After I met squad six, I went home. I lived in the north-west part of Chicago, on a small brown house. When I got inside, I told this to my mom, and my sister. They were very proud when I showed this to them. They were so proud that they let me and my friends go to a pub.

Later that day, when my friends and I went to a pub to celebrate. We all got drunk. Don’t know how but did, and woke up with an astonishing surprise.

Smoke was practically everywhere, I was gasping for air, and I heard people shouting, screaming, but evacuating. It was like hell to me.

I didn’t waste time and got up. I tried to lead some people out of the building, but it was kind of hard. Lucky for me and some people, we got out on time. It was hard to say for the others who died. Anyway, when I got outside I looked up and saw something spreading, really, really fast. It was fire!

I was confused about what happened. All I could remember now was coming to the pub, drinking, and waking up with flames surrounding us everywhere. I tried to ask but the crowd was way too loud, and I was too busy dodging the great big flames of the fire.

As I was running away, I saw a lost family. They had two daughters and a baby son. This reminded me of my family. I had to see how they were. I thought for a while about how to escape and see my family. I knew where they were but the building blocked the road to my home.

As I was walking I heard rumors saying that the fire started at a family’s house named O’Leary. A cow pushed over a lantern and the flames spread, and grew bigger. 

After hours of escaping the fire, I reached my house, but I was too late. It was on flames. I hurried my way in and saw my sister on the floor half-dead. “Mi-ch-ch-ael” she said with a croaky voice.

I felt tears dripping through my eyes. She was touching my face and said,

“I am, I am…,” she said. Seconds later, she was gone from this world.

“Noooo!” I shouted as I was crying. At that precise moment I felt that life was meaning less. I was in a great shock and felt sad things that words couldn‘t even describe, but I had to run out for safety. Lucky for me I just got out on time. Unfortunately, the building collapsed, taking my mom and sister’s life with it, and all my collections and belongings had all vaporized into the air.

As bad as it was, the streets were unbelievable crowded. I had great difficulty just getting from one place to another.

So that day I spent my time escaping the fire with gloom and sadness with me. Long time later, I finally got to a safe place but collapsed with exhaustion of anxiety.

When I woke up the next day, I saw people surrounding me. It looked like the great fire had finally ended. I quickly got up and heard voices shouting,

“He’s alive, He‘s alive” and people were cheering.

When they led me outside, black clouds engulfed Chicago forever it seemed. Countless of people, including children and animals were homeless, and many died. It was very, very disturbing.

Fortunately, not all of Chicago was burnt down to bit. The north-eastern part was still okay, but unfortunately it took a while for them to get the news about southern Chicago. Many cities nearby helped us stop this fire but only the acid rain fully worked.

After I saw all this disaster and chaos, I left Chicago with some people and went to Ohio to study earth science, and tried to keep out of firefighting stuff as much as I could.

After forty years I came back to see Chicago, and the city was working well. I stopped at the area where my house was, and threw a flower, and coins there. I then went back to my house in Ohio, which was bigger and better but didn’t have the memory as my other house. Every year I visited my old burned house.”

After I finished my story, I saw whole crowd with emotion. Everyone was quiet and felt the pain I did. Even the nation seemed to do this as they heard me speaking on the radio. Minutes later, I bowed and everyone clapped really, really hard. And the cheers were really, really, really loud. I was very happy to share my experience to others. Suddenly someone in the crowd asked, “Did you ever see your mom?” “No I never did.”

“How old were you when you experienced this hard time?” “17 years old.” “Do you blame and hate the O’Leary’s for this,” I say no with convincement.

The host came in with background music. “I think that‘s enough question, but it must have been a very, very scary time for you.” I nodded and laughed with a bit of tears on my eyes. I waved and exited. They all clapped and cheered again.

Meanwhile on the back stage, I saw people giving me gift and things. “This is our support to you,” said a teenage girl. “Thank you I said,” and left for home. Many people along the way gave me a gift.

It is hard to think that your best dream can turn into your worst nightmare.

******

“Welcome aboard unit 14a, sector 104089, and your new abode”, greeted Dr. Kuldev. “The bad news is you’ve been downsized to a packet of frozen neurons. The good news is you’re an inhabitant of ‘Parallel Earth’ - let’s just call it a new human adventure: the ultimate frontier.” Anand turned right to accost a thin man with honing eyes exuding a wry smile. His wavy, unkempt, white hair and competing bald spots portrayed contrast better than artists’ brushes. His green blazer sported an embroidery of Einstein held incongruous to his variegated, cotton tie. That, combined with his heavily creased, fur trousers depicted the epitome of fashion’s degradation. The unperturbed composure of the man; his focused eyes and uncouth appearance made him the best among those that invariably explore their cerebral environment in the confines of their laboratories.

“I don’t get you, Mr..?” inquired Anand. He was absolutely befuddled to hear the man’s story, hoping that the old man wasn’t stuck in some “imaginary” sector of his cerebral environment. “Dr. Kuldev, Chief Scientist, Human Consciousness Transport Technology, Braxter Institute. Now, your immediate neighbor! And, you are?” asked Dr. Kuldev, lending his hand forward. “Anand John, editor of the Asian Times, Kathmandu”, disclosed Anand, accepting his handshake. “But, I don’t understand, Anand. Asian Times was a 21st Century Company. It was sold off to Planet News some 400 years ago.” Dr. Kuldev looked puzzled, breaking his, heretofore, assured composure. He didn’t know that Anand had passed away in a car accident in Kathmandu in the year 2009. He also didn’t know that Anand’s body had been inadvertently donated to science. His body had somehow found its way into Dr. Kuldev’s research facility 400 years later - the mother of all precarious happenstances in human history. Anand, of course, didn’t know this for obvious reasons.

“I must say that I haven’t heard about your profession or your research institute, Doc”, a perplexed Anand spoke, assured that the Doc was a mad scientist, obviously lost in some lobe of his brain between sectors 104089 and unit 14a, whatever that meant. Dr. Kuldev’s elaborate tales of time travel and refrigeration were developing gorges in Anand’s frowning brow. The progenitorial family nose and his confident demeanor – which had been a hallmark of his forebears – were suddenly made insignificant by his cringing shoulders. He looked wary and old as if he had been sandblasted in the Sahara Desert for 10 years. “Well, my institute was founded by the late Dr. Jim Braxter, a German, in the year 2400. Until then, research in human consciousness was a rudimentary affair. But, as you can see, we have covered some ground”, disclosed a haughty Dr. Kuldev.

“Allow me to explain”, he offered, noticing Anand’s befuddlement. The old man had recovered his unflinching composure and was gleaming to continue the conversation. He explained everything to Anand in troughs of elated and intelligent scientific verses. By the time the Doctor had finished, Anand looked even older than him – this time 60 years older, resembling a septuagenarian found wandering somewhere in Pluto.

******

The department of Human Consciousness Transport Technology (HCTT) was founded in the year 2420. Its objective was simple: to retain conscious life without physiology. Global Space Consortium, a space research institute, had detected a gargantuan star, twice the size of Jupiter, headed directly for the sun on January 20th 2420. It was established that the star would strike the sun on February 5th 2450. Scientists calculated that the collision would alter the gravitational field in the Milky Way, catapulting Earth out of its galactic cocoon – doomsday, in other words. Dr. Kuldev, the incumbent scientist at HCTT, had finally succeeded in isolating human consciousness in frozen packets of neurons (brain cells) on October 8th 2430. By the year 2437, the world was preparing for the “Inner Evacuation”.

******

“You, John, must have met a tragic accident”, asked Dr. Kuldev, assured that Anand’s body had been accidentally preserved for the last 4 centuries. “Yes, Doc, I had a car accident on my way to work.” The first thought that crossed Anand when he woke up was that he must be in a hospital. The Doc’s stories made him uncomfortable. He feared that he may have sustained serious head injuries to have been placed next to this mad scientist. “Look around you, Anand”, asked the Doc. “Imagine a setting; let’s say, a swimming pool with a Dolphin in siesta, floating on an inflated mattress with a cigar and whiskey in its hands. Did you see your environment change?” Dr. Kuldev waited for Anand to see an instant visual enactment of his premonition. Anand concurred in stammering tones, “Yes, Doc, I see it.”

“Now try jumping. You will land back on the ground.” “Yes, Doc, I did”, agreed Anand. “Now, forget there is gravity and try again”, asked Dr. Kuldev. Anand jumped, but didn’t land back on earth. “You see, Anand, your experiences of the world: knowledge, forces, gravity, memory, pain and affection have been retained. But, your imagination now merges with reality.” “But, Doc, this must be a dream”, blurted Anand. “I may be hallucinating as a result of my accident”, hi opined. “Anand, if you don’t care for euphemisms, you’re plain dead, but still conscious.”

“We are all packets of neurons now, Anand, housed in matrices of frozen cylinders for miles. Ours is in Asia, unit 14a. Incidentally, mine is placed right next to yours. The planet is now geographically divided into sectors, ours being 104089. The celestial tragedy would destroy Earth. The only option we had was to transport human consciousness to live on. We evacuated ourselves within ourselves”. “But, but, what happened to Earth?” asked Anand. “Earth exists, Anand. It may collapse after the catastrophe, but we will live on, all of us. This is the post 2440 era - a parallel existence where we interact in thoughts and imaginations, without the pressures of physical survival.

We’re all soul mates now, Anand, with global social networks. It’s better than the days of the internet. Just think of an idea and connect with the brightest minds that have pioneered the idea. There are no wars, hunger, competitions or evil now Anand. You could say that we have finally managed to create utopia, after all”, expressed an impassioned Dr. Kuldev. “But, what after the Earth collapses”, asked Anand. “Earth will be shot out of sun’s influence. We will remain frozen, Anand, and continue to live on”, answered Dr. Kuldev. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Don’t you agree?”

*****

The human legacy: hope, love, camaraderie, knowledge, innovation and enterprise that expanded our civilization continue to show us the way. Ends are sometimes new beginnings; tragedy, often blessings in disguise. The legacy, however, finds a way to live on! We find a way to live on!

Kopila: “Where do you live and what do you do?”

Chanakya: “I live at Jeff Town and I am a college professor. How about you?”

Kopila: “I live at Romney Square and I am a Sales Rep for a Pharmaceutical company.”

That made Chanakya more excited and he moved to the chair next to her. He pointed a scar on her hand. She said “Yeeeeesssss.” He held her hand and started to rub the scar. “Seems like the permanent one,” Chanakya murmured. “It is birth sign,” Kopila said while taking a long breath. Kopila liked all this. She was feeling very hot inside. The warm touch by the handsome man was something she needed lately.

Kopila: “Are you not surprised that I have come to this coffee date on first meet?”

Chanakya: “Not surprised, but blessed!”

Kopila: “Actually, you forgot me, Mr. forgetful Professor. I am the same Kopila from high school.”

Chanakya: “What….? You are kidding.”

Kopila: “Nooooooooooo.”

Chanakya: “Why did you take this long to reveal it?”

Kopila: “I wanted to surprise you.”

Chanakya: “I do not like it”

Chanakya walked away with still half of his coffee in the cup. Kopila screamed “I am sorry, please do not go away.” Chanakya went back to house and Kopila stayed there with wet eyes. Kopila had first opportunity to get closer to her high school sweetheart. She always loved Chanakya, but was never able to express. She was very close this time, but forgetful professor walked away.

Chanakya entered the shopping complex. Wow! Beautiful! Chanakya started walking towards the inner side of the complex. A lady said “hello Chanakya, what’s up? Why are you in the mall today? Where did you learn the shopping? Quite a change - I am liking this.” Chanakya remained silent and the baby girl next to the lady said “hi” too. Chanakya became serious and both eyes got wet. He was about to tell that he actually did not still know shopping and he was giving it a first try. Another man came by and said to the lady “let us move.” Both the lady and the baby girl left. Chanakya started thinking and recalling his past.

It was three years before that one evening his wife left him because he did not want to go shopping. She cried and he did not listen to her. Going shopping was something Chanakya hated more than anything else in his life. Between going shopping and quitting wife, he chose quitting wife. One can guess how much he hated shopping. He still remembers his wife leaving with ego and angry face and tears in her eyes. His little daughter was crying and was shouting “daddy, daddy…” Even then he did not want to compromise.

After a few minutes, the man who was with the lady came back and said “Loser! She is not your wife any more. You lost her. I will break your neck if I see you coming next to her ever again.” Chanakya reached the peak of his anger and punched the man right on his face and the man started bleeding heavily. Bad luck! Cops came and arrested Chanakya and put him into the town jail for a night. Next morning, Chanakya came back to him and decided not to go to shopping ever again. What a bad luck!  

Since that shopping day, Chanakya is trying to get remarried. He has not yet found any woman who can live with a man who does not go to shopping with her. Chanakya is at his late 30s and still fighting all inside pondering what to do next: start going shopping or never get re-married. Please guide Chanakya.

It was about two months ago that a team of geological experts - later scorned as a team of geological perverts by the ‘Global Times’ - had managed to rip apart a gargantuan portion of the northern side of the Antarctic ice mass in one of their drilling adventures, which, of course, didn’t quite turn out to be a drill. Unfortunately for them, they were unaware that precarious faults and fissures had already appeared on ground zero. The drilling part was just the ‘slicing of the cake’ as it were. There were numerous stories on the media of a military exercise in the area with submarines conducting experiments that could have caused the cracking. Amidst the speculation, allegation and media hype, Hurricane ‘Gizmo’ took its toll, propelling the huge ice mass at a horrible pace towards the Indian Ocean and finally onto the coast of Africa. The Ice mass crashed into the South African coast at 14 miles an hour creating a massive earthquake that destroyed most of the southern part of Africa leaving most of the north intact. The impact of the collision not only destroyed Africa, but also created massive instability of the tectonic plates in most parts of the Middle East and Asia. It was too early to even surmise the death toll in the wake of the incident, not to mention the culminating effects the incident would have on the earth’s crust in the days to come.

Proakrit, along with some 400,000 people from across the world had volunteered to aid in the rescue efforts in the areas affected by the devastating incident. Due to the scale of the devastation, it was extremely difficult and even suicidal to venture into the heartlands of Africa. The melting ice, extreme flooding, recurring earthquakes and collapsing landmasses were scenarios of foreboding doom rather than backdrops for epic sagas of humanitarianism to be etched in history. Not unless, some stalwarts went against the odds in the spirit of humanity to fight the calamity; even if it meant never returning home alive to be with their loved ones and friends or to live their dreams and aspirations. Proakrit had a hard time explaining his reasons for going to his girlfriend, Mira who was terrified at the prospect of loosing the only ‘one’ she had ever found. And, in that dimly lit room on Sunday evening, he had told her, ‘’This is probably the last time we will see each other, but pray to god that we find survivors. And, if you have some more piety to spare, do pray for me, too.” That was exactly what made him the ‘one’ that Mira had come to know and grown to love. She also knew that arguing with him would get her nowhere, so she accepted her plight and stood silent accosting the melodrama in the air. And, she didn’t even cry!

It’s hard to reason why humanity fluctuates in the gamut of behaviorism and personalities. People have rose to become Einstein’s, Freud’s, Bach’s and Gandhi’s, but also have turned into Hitler’s, Bin LaDen’s and Jack the Ripper’s. Is this a normal condition of the planet or a conditioning of souls triggered by double-standards in a divided world with imperfect appraisals and calculations? There are those who do things out of hormonal compulsion, and there are those who do things for themselves at all costs. There are also those who do things for glory, and there are those who do things on account of ethos, principle and value system. Still there are those who do it for the good of others as if it were some sort of subconscious stimuli they’re responding to with no questions asked. Proakrit was pretty much a blend of the last two types with benevolence and reason running in his blood. In the short flight to Oman, he had spiraling thoughts and qualms about his decision to go and felt all alone and ambivalent. ‘’Do beliefs stand in a cosmetic world? Is it worth to give up one’s own life for others? What about those who’re indifferent to empathy, suffering, pain and anguish and go about life furthering their agendas in our Darwin’s world of inequity? And suddenly, as if by a stroke of lightening, it all came to him. ‘’It’s all about the finale - a life well lived is a life of no regrets. And, if one, in his/her deathbed at the end of the journey feels that life has been fruitful, that’s the whole purpose of life. It’s all about what you’d feel at the end and be willing to live with it.”

The voice of the captain came over the speakers informing the passengers that they would be shortly landing at Oman. From there, they would be taken to Ethiopia via ship where the catastrophe had minimal impact and where the rescue team was to be assembled. Proakrit prepared himself for the Herculean task that lay ahead and thought of his parents and Mira. He promised to himself that he would return home and marry Mira and have five kids. Whether or not Proakrit returns home is a question of fate, but in any event he will certainly have made a mark on planet earth. And, let’s hope Sir Elton John sings one for this candle in the wind. Let’s also hope that it’s not a eulogy for the dead.

Babal Bachhan was stranded in a traffic jam, as usual. As joked within his circle of friends, BB was the one to blame for the ebb in traffic flow in the city. And, he was to be avoided in case of a complete cessation in traffic; for he surely had a showdown with his boss recently. BB killed the ignition and reached for the phone. “I should be there in about half an hour. Keep the ‘muh-ye-fil’ propitious with sharab and shabab”. “Sure BB. And, you keep the roads propitious for vehicular movement”, put in Rohan. A roaring laughter echoed throughout the bar - both the buyers and pushers were its source. A vitriolic retort spurted from BB’s end and he hung-up. He was the unparalleled master of articulate swearing - an unintended by-product of his journalism. “BB imbroglio?” inquired Bikash. “Yes, mate”, replied Rohan. BB, namely Kishor, was nicknamed Babal Bachhan. He had a penchant for Amitabh Bachhan’s dialogues ‘under the influence’. The gang enjoyed his inebriation for its humorous efficacy and BB enjoyed the attention; especially from the girls.

“That leaves His Excellency and Shushma. I wonder when the duo are going to show up”, wondered Bikash. “I see the emissaries of melody have begun their recreational pilgrimage over the bottle. Or, shall I call you drunks minus the euphemism.” His Excellency had managed once again to accost the musical duo from the rear, announcing his arrival; which also meant that Shushma wasn’t far behind. Shushma and His Excellency were neighbors, and friends to BB and the musical duo. Ten years had passed since their final day in school, but their kinship hadn’t. They had all pursued various careers after school, but had managed to stay in touch. And, Fridays served to make that experience more tangible. Rajeev, His Excellency, had a successful law practice. He also had a good practice of reading, reading more, and then reading even more. Books lead to more books and he turned into a nerd with faiths in philosophy, physics and psychology - tenets of his developing religion. Or, perhaps, prognosis of his inevitable insanity! Rajeev had much in common with the Victorian English gentleman than he had with his friends. The gang had no choice but to recognize his posh demeanor and salute him in kind.

“It’s so benign of Your Excellency to have graced us nonentities with your presence. We couldn’t afford a red carpet with flowers, but I’m sure Your Excellency will forgive our menial shortcomings. Please accept our humble welcome, instead”, pleaded Rohan with a bantering nod from Bikash. A semblance of a chuckle escaped Shushma’s lips. “By all means gentleman. I am, of course, honored”, replied Rajeev with a grin. Shushma was the exact opposite of Rajeev in all respects. While he was a realist, Shushma was a bona fide romantic. An English professor well regarded for her leadership and aura. She was a woman of probity and moral high ground. The gang had known all along that certain ambiguous and unexplored chemistry existed between the two. Shushma appreciated Rajeev’s intelligence and his respect for women. Rajeev unwittingly relied on Shushma’s frequent company to ballast himself on the warranted end of ingenuity versus insanity.

As soon as Babal Bachhan entered the bar, he saw promising signs of ‘shabab’ at 3 o’ clock and ‘sharab’ at 12 o’ clock. The only reason he was an hour late was either because of his driving mastery or his bar hopping habit. He was usually a bit ‘hammered’ before the big gatherings. BB immediately turned right towards 3 o’clock. “Ladies, please allow me to pour my heart in respect of you all. In relation, I’m father of most - name is Kishor. May I buy you ladies refreshments to assuage the intensity of this rather warm evening”, asked BB accentuating the ‘warm’ part. Giggles instantly poured from 3 o’ clock where the girls were ensconced. They nodded in agreement. “BB, get over here!” commanded Shushma. A slight twitch of the cheeks overcame BB’s countenance in irritation. “I’ll be back, ladies. Enjoy the evening”, wished BB. “Take your time”, said one of the ladies. “I see buffoons are overwhelmed with the challenges of focusing on priorities. Or, make that another drunk minus the diplomacy”, blurted His Excellency at BB with one palm held askew complementing his speech. “Good Friday to you all”, announced BB and brandished a fist at Rajeev with a grin and jerked Shushma’s hair. “Ouch!”

After quick exchanges of handshakes and nods, the gang spent some time recalling days long gone in nostalgia. They talked about how BB had once hurled a chalk at his teacher. When the teacher had complained about the ‘dhunga muda’ in the classroom, he had asked the teacher to wear a helmet from the following day. They also talked about the alley dog that had chased Shushma, and Bikash’s guitar that had succumbed to mimicry of Hendrix’ stage gimmicks. The gang laughed and complimented each other for their part in each others’ lives. And, as the night grew older, they disbanded into groups. Rajeev and Shushma talked about philosophy. The musical duo went back to musicology, and BB went back to the girls. Good Fridays for the gang served in bringing Shushma and Rajeev closer together. It also served in letting BB’s wit loose and the musical duo’s passion for music afloat. Good Fridays for the gang were about friendship, individuality and character; about recreation and escape from the ironic realities of life.

सांझपखको करीब 5 बजेको छ। चैत्रको महीना हल्का हल्का हावा चलीरहेको छ। गर्मीले गर्दाहोला सांझपख चहल पहल नै हुने गर्छ माईली दीदीको चीया पसलमा। चारजना युबकहरु पनी लम्कीदै कुरा कानी गर्दै तेही चीया पसलमा आईपुगे अनी एउटाले एसो पसल तीर फर्केर दीदीलाई ईसारागर्दै भन्यो

धर्म : दीदी 4 वटा चीया

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