Writing Not Easy

Writing Not Easy

I knew writing was not easy, but still I wanted to write. I have written a lot of essays when I was in school, but this was not what I wanted to write, I wanted to write a fiction…a fiction story. I knew there were no any harms in doing that, I would rather get a name, fame and a status. I knew I didn’t have had any potentials butt still I wanted to write. I had a clear view that writing would not feed me, at least in this present context because even the Novelist Narayan Wagle has got something extra job. Palpasa Café and Mayur Times probably would not lead his entire life. Despite this fact, I wanted to write. I knew writing non-fiction was more challenging than writing fiction and therefore my first priority was for writing fiction instead of nonfiction.
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I don’t remember the exact date, but it was early morning around seven. I sat on my table with pen and paper to write and then I ultimately realized that I need a topic to write, because I had my pen, it was ink filled, I had paper, I had time, environment was peaceful and since it was early morning, my mind was fresh, but I was unable to write. I had never thought of this earlier that I really require an interesting topic to write. It was then, I knew for the first time that I need a topic to write. So now I hook up for my topic hunt task! Where could I find the topic? I started thinking…thinking it on the way to college…thinking it at the play ground, class or even at the bathroom. I searched for topic in the rainfall, in the hot summer and even during chilling winter. Nor could the spring shape my mind. I then thought of reading. I then read fiction stories, novellas, and novels just to write. After all, I wanted to write, but couldn’t. I spent my money for various books just to write. I had to burrow books just to fulfill my desire of writing.

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Finally one fine morning, I got set to write. This time I had the topic. It was simply about me traveling to Madikatar and the conductor demanding more than necessary. My fake phone call made him feel that I belong to some gangster and that made him silent, and I traveled with fair fare. So I started…

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Fake Call
It was hot summer Saturday and I was invited at friend’s birthday party. So I had to go Mandikatar. Now this was disgusting. I had to first reach Bus Park and then wait for the micro, So that I could reach my destination. After waiting for almost half an hour, I got the micro so that I silently sat at one corner staring outside the window. It was Dhumbarai where the micro reached and then the conductor asked me for fare. I took out my identity card and gave him five rupee note and three coins of rupee. The bus had just few passengers and the conductor started claiming it a fake identity card. I was claiming it was not fake as there was sticker, stamp and signature. But he was continuously asking for five more rupees. Five rupees was not a huge issue but he claimed my identity card a fake and that was the issue troubling me.
And then my friend called me at the very same time and we had this kind of conversation..
‘Hello!’ I said.
‘Hello’
‘We could not find that note book.’ He said.
‘I don’t know, it was your responsibility.’ I said.

‘Now sir will kill me!’
‘Yeah! You are in danger, but before that search it completely!’ I said.
‘But…’
‘No any buts, just search for it…I don’t want to be in danger!’
‘Okay I will search for it again.’
‘I am out; I will be there in two hours, till then handle the situation.’ I said and kept my phone. My face probably was red and I could figure out that this conductor was hearing my conversation. One sided conversation in fact. Now I didn’t know what he actually thought. I recalled my voice…
‘Hello!’
‘I don’t know, it was your responsibility!’
‘Yeah! You are in danger, but before that search for it completely!’
‘I am out! I will be there in two hours, till then handle the situation.’ Those were what I spoke and he probably must have thought me some criminal and he innocently returned my card and never dared to look my face again.
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I happily wrote till there but when I re-read it, I found it something like incident description. It was really short to be story and it was not interesting either. I was sad. Was the topic such boring? Or did I fail to make the plot interesting? I could not conclude anything. So I had nothing now, but still wanted to write.

I now read novels again…Animal Farm, Three Mistakes of my life, Five point someone, One Night at call center and even stories collections like Nothing to declare. I went through Nepali novels as well. BP Koirala, Narayan Wagle, Krishna Dharabasi. Since I had strong desire to write, I again thought of something interesting to write of. My job of thinking again began. No I don’t sleep at toilet, I think there, because toilet is the one place where I can think peacefully with relaxation. Since I had gone through others writings as well. I now came to new topic and began my writing…
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An Ignorance

July 18 2011
Woke up late! Cooked food, spoilt rice. I burnt it, but had to eat it. No school today! So it was a resting day. I hate holidays these days, but I was all set to dedicate this day for movies. Movies will certainly not heal my pain but what more can do? Met Bikash late today, and he was frustrated with his parents.
He wants a new bike. I called my dad and mom and obediently heard them. Could not stop tears after phone and cooked food and slept.

July 19 2011

Woke up early today. I knew it was weekend, but I was not excited. Had my breakfast and went school. Principal called me to his office and asked me what the problem was as I was not energetic as earlier. I knew I was not teaching well, but how could I say it to him? How could I say it to him that I am victim of AIDS?
I could not continue further…

AIDS?? This made me totally surprise! But how? How can he get it? Uff…Now I knew why his behavior is changing and where his entire enthusiasm has actually gone. Hello, by the way I am Bikash and I was reading the diary of my friend Bivek. I know it’s wrong to read others diary, but since he is out and I had nothing to do, I went through it..I am really sorry!!

**

It was just something like five months ago, we completed our twelve examinations. Twelve examinations had been acting like huge headache since past three months and we ultimately figured out that it was over. It was huge relief and we seriously had nothing to do. No more Physics pressure. No any Chemistry! No Zoology! No Botany! No nothing!! I was free. Bivek was my childhood friend and we were together since very young age. We both were the only sons of our parents and our every demand from brick game to bike was fulfilled. It was me who first bought R1-5 and then Bivek got it. It was separate fun after having bike. It was not difficult for us to find a girl to sit back now and hence we easily made girl friends too. Now since the exam was over, it was my plan to go Khasa…
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I was moving with a flow, but ultimately found out the story is kind of common topic to move ahead. AIDS awareness...how the role of I (Bikash) influences Bivek to go to prostitution center, how they have sex and one gets the victim of AIDS, that is his friend and then ‘I’ becomes scared and ends. I shared my idea with friend and he said the idea was common, and I felt the same. This also reminded me of Catmandu, the serial made targeting youth once in Kathmandu. So I stopped writing it thereby. But my passion for fiction was not yet over. I still wanted to write. I again had nothing more to do besides thinking. My notebook was already crossed with two writings...Fake Call and An Ignorance...But there were lot of empty pages left.

Movies could be great source of inspiration. So I started watching movies. I had the vision that fiction has to be Nepali culture influencing one, because I was sure that I would never be able to compete with the International Standards one. So I even had to see Nepali movies, but when these movies are not genuine what could I expect out of there? I really liked the way how Chetan Bhagat wrote novel and I wanted to do kind of same, but I couldn’t…Time went on…Sweat could not take my passion, monsoon could not take my interest, nor could any festive season control my desire, chilling cold could not freeze my dream either. I was always keen on writing and nothing could take over it. One fine morning again with idea in my mind, I began my writing…

Sovereignty
‘Hello everyone! I am Abishek Koirala and I am from Nepal.’ I said this on the very first day of orientation when people goggled me. It was not anything unexpected because my name certainly sounded different than that of theirs. Mike, John, Nichole, Adam were the common name at Virginia. Although I could see few Nepalese students as senior here, I probably was the only one from Nepali origin in my class.
This was my first day at my class. The class was completely different from that of my plus two classes. Yes! The college was big, class was well furnished, and peoples were all whites with couple of Negros there. Tone of lecturer speaking was like CNN news reporter speaking without any advertisement. This was my fourth day, I was in United States and I was missing everything…my bed…my mom…my dad...my sister…my friends and everything. I had no any clue regarding what the professor was talking, but I was simply docile this day! Alone…silent. I really missed the last bench of my plus two with my friends and this was horrible.
My family had spent almost million rupees to send me here and the first day was such horrible one. It was on second day; I had company James. He was black and I could predict the reason why he was talking to me…maybe he was discriminated from the circle of whites and he could feel the loneliness. I still remember our first talk…
‘Hey..Abh-he-sheek, Hye.’ He said.
‘Hye!’
‘I am James, I think you knew it yesterday.’
No I did not notice anyone’s name but I nodded with smile.
‘I could not get it, where are you from?’
‘Nepal!’ I said proudly.
‘Where is that?’
I could not even imagine that someone didn’t know my nation. It was disgusting!
‘Nepal…is in South Asia…Mt. Everest, Buddha…you know it?’
He nodded stupidly, but I could realize that he was not satisfied with my answer, and therefore he changed the topic.
‘Did you get professor’s point yesterday?’
‘No, I was just thinking of my home, did not have had any attention.’
‘Okay, but Accounts seems complex!’
James was the only person, I used to talk to…maybe because of home sickness, I was turning introvert every day. James had even made white friends, but my every thing in the university was James. My home sickness was getting over slowly and one afternoon I was in canteen, having my lunch, and on the other side there appeared my classmates whom I never talked earlier...Maria, Annie...I, by now could determine them by their name.
‘Hey! Look! Our classmate…that Asian guy is there.’ Maria said.
‘Yeah! He is always alone, never dares to talk to anyone else.’ Annie popped. I knew they were talking in low voice, but I could hear them. James appeared at the same moment, and they talked about me. James was about to company me…but they dragged him.
'What is his name?' They asked James.
‘Abh-he-sheek’ James replied.
‘He is Asian, isn’t it?’
‘Yes! He is from Ne-pol.’
‘Where is that?’
Oh! People here even don’t know about Nepal? I was listening to them still.
‘South Asia.’ James said.
‘Oh! I got it! Nepal is part of India?’ Maria said as if she knew.
‘I don’t know, but he said Mt. Everest and Buddha belonged to Ne-pol.’
‘Mt. Everest lies in China, isn’t it?’ Annie asked.
‘Yeah, and Buddha is from India!’ Maria said.
Now…This was too much, I could not tolerate them and went straight to them and said.
‘Excuse me! I was listening to you three, I got dissatisfied and therefore I want to make you something clear...Can I?’
‘Yeah man! Go ahead.’ James said.
‘Nepal is a landlocked small country, lies in South Asia, between China and India. It is not part of India and it never was. Mt. Everest peak lies in Nepal. Gautam Buddha’s birth place is Nepal. It was that he moved to India leaving his palace, but his birth place was Nepal! Just Nepal. Nepalese were never hidden, if you don’t know Nepal, hat is your fault because Nepalese were present and every war’s. Your president’s wife’s cloths are designed by Nepalese and a lot of people from US visit Nepal as well. We are poor. Yes but brave. And I am sorry, but I just got hurt when you said. Nepal is part of India and blah blah…’
I now could hear them talking in their own language.
Que se yesto?
‘No se. No comprendo.
Nepol es pequeno.
‘Excuse me’ I said and Maria gave a foolish smile. Huh! I said bye and moved on. I could hear one maybe Annie saying…
‘Fucking Asians come here and act smart…Why don’t they return back?’
The statement went on my ear for almost an hour.
**
Now I could not write. I could not make proper ending. What happened from the next day? I myself was not satisfied with the ending. I read the story, but the story was not at order. I still wanted to write, but finally realized that I could not write. I threw my pen…torn the pages...and slept! I could never be a writer, because writing is not easy!

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