And the leaf had to fall ultimately

Life is not all about one particular satisfaction. You may be a good football player, but if you don’t earn that would never satisfy you. Passion is a very strong emotion, but your passion itself should not be your entire missions. Your passion can pay you, make you renowned, but you have other various responsibilities and duties. A guitarist will ignore his concert if his father is in hospital. You can live your life as per your wish, as per your desire but you have the moral compulsion to stay alert if your lifestyle is disturbing other's normal schedule. For any designer, it would be acceptable till the designer makes designing his passion, but the things would get worse if designing makes you its passion. It is just like you eating the rice or rice eating you. Here is the story of Krishna, and his passion following him.

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Krishna believed that he has got the potentiality to write for the first time when he was in grade eight. 'And the winner of Inter House Essay Writing Competition is….Krishna Maskey of Green House!' This line made Krishna feel his potentiality for the first time in his life. He got the medal and certificate and then began his journey with his pen. Actually, Krishna was middle class family member and an average student in his class. It was for the first time his name was announced in the assembly. My words would certainly fail if I try to describe his situation of that particular moment. His achievement further kissed him year later when he got the second position in Inter School Essay Writing Competition. This made him feel that he can really go ahead. His parents were supportive and hence they subscribed every English newspaper at home. One must certainly read more in order to write well. His reading habit finally made him write on newspapers. Beginning from School Posts, by the time he reached grade ten he became a good comment writer at various National English newspapers. Krishna Maskey was a popular and regular name. It was at least twice a week he wrote in the 'Letter to the Editor' section of every English newspapers. He was now able to understand politics and the things going on. With the passage of time, he gave his SLC well. He now began reading various novels, various articles in this gap. He continued writing comments and even engaged in readings. Since he was the only son, his every demand of reading materials was supplied to him in time. His SLC result went fine and his writing level got promoted gradually. He started writing mini writings as well and by the time his high school got over he was a popular freelance writer. No one could raise a question against his writings. His freelance writing kissed the success peak and he got feature writing section in National newspaper and by this he could earn of his own. His high school got over and he chooses engineering line. No matter which stream he belonged to, he could never give up writing. He had already been popular in towns and cities of the country and like players and singers he turned youth icon in literary world. People and specially youth started purchasing newspapers and magazines simply to read his writings. Writing became drugs for him that he could not easily quit of. Man never gets satisfied with what he has and always seeks for something more and this is what has been actually explained by Maslow's Law and such thing is nothing abnormal. Krishna's eyes now had broad vision and his eyes now were seeking for International magazines and newspapers. It was challenging task for any young Nepalese of twenty two to publish his writings on International papers like New Your Times, Times of India, but he never stopped trying. He read more, more and more, which helped in his domestic writing as well, and by the time he was twenty three he began publishing it in various International newspapers. He again got feature writer's position in International paper as well. This added goodwill for him in his domestic writings and he was getting good position in International Scenario as well. So, Krishna finally became popular not only in his home city, but in entire Nepal and various countries knew him as potential and skilled writer. His writing had a weight that could attract any simple reader. It took him seven years to complete his engineering course and now he joined MBA. An MBA student writing a novel was no way a huge issue, but publishing dozens of novels that had good International market was an issue. He published dozens of novels by the age of thirty.

–

Thirty year for male is enough to get married, at least in Nepalese society. Krishna, the icon, the model did not lack any aspects either. From billionaire's dad's eye to minister…they wanted to make him son in law. He had not any strong feelings regarding marriage but he always gave first priority to his writings. Earning and living standard life simply by writing was something difficult at least in Nepal, but Krishna's case was a complete different. His MBA degree certificate had no any meaning and value in his life. Summer was hot, monsoon brought flood, winter brought cough and tonsillitis, spring made the garden beautiful but his pen never stopped and his fame was always at peak. Like Indians talk about Sachin, Americans talk about Obama, Argentina's people talk about Messi, Krishna and his writing was always the topic to talk in Nepal for youths and gradually even for old. 'When will Krishna marry?' This was not the question of his friends, but of entire Nepalese. And they finally got the answer. Krishna married at the age of thirty two with the daughter of famous Industrialist. This marriage would not have been possible without the pressure of his parents. Krishna probably thought it a social compulsion to marry. National and International newspapers had the headlines…'Krishna married to Kriti', 'Krishna finally hooked up', 'Young writer no more single'. Yes Krishna was no more single; he now had his wife, Kriti, in his life. Kriti was a simple girl, okay looking, well disciplined and with the degree of MD. It was just for the fortnight his marriage brought disturbance and he could not inject the drugs of writing, and then the process went on as usual. It was his writing that went in usual way, but not his married life. It is not necessary for a good writer to be good husband anyway. Krishna was not intended, but he never realized that he was not being a good husband. Sleeping together doesn’t mean that they are happy. Only after two weeks, under Kriti's proposal both of them broke their virginity on fifteenth night. Kriti had already resigned from the hospital for marriage thinking she will later join with the mutual understanding. Krishna in fact never realized the unemployed state of his wife. Not just this, he did not even talk properly with his wife. It was not intended at all but he never realized that he was troubling his wife mentally. Normally, people regard their family more important than anything, but for Krishna his carrier and hence writing was his main focus. Though, they used to stay in same room almost twenty four seven, but Kriti never got a company to talk because Krishna was always busy with his pen, note and laptop. January 1st 2003 was the date when Kriti got the symptom of pregnancy, and she excitedly said it to Krishna. 'Oh! That's great!' Krishna said and again continued writing. Kriti was not satisfied with his answer because she at least expected a kiss from him, but she consoled herself considering it Krishna's introvert habit. Kriti had every materialistic thing, but she lacked a true friend, her husband. Her husband was just a doll. He was alive, he could be felt, but really lacked any feelings. Kriti needed a talk, a friend but husband's act was making her lonely day after the day. It was not that he never talked to her, but he only talked when necessary as he was always busy and engaged either with his pen and paper or his laptop. No doubt! He was improving his writings and earning huge sum of money, but he really is not realizing the importance, dedication and devotion towards his family. It sounded stupid for Kriti to stay unemployed even with the degree of MD. Kriti was getting lonely day after the day. Krishna loved Kriti, but he never had time to express it. Waking up early and sitting in table with pen and paper, that was everything for Krishna and it was easy for him. But waking up late, sitting silent, helping servants, few talks with mother and father in law and television entire day was the task of Kriti and that was not easy anyway for her. Nine months did not pass easily, and Kriti gave birth to beautiful boy on September 15, 2003. It was the time when she was with her own parents in hospital because Krishna had to go in the opening ceremony of his novel. In fact both had their separate opening ceremony because for every writer their book is regarded their child. Kriti's son got her father's talk only after five days. With huge effort Kriti, Krishna and their newly born son clicked a photo and they hung it in the wall. It was the bad fortune of Maskey family that the newly born child took his last breath on October 1st. Kriti cried a lot, even Krishna felt bad and entire family was feeling sad. Because of Krishna's popularity, Krishna was invited by Times of India for a week package, so that he could be physically seen by India. So, he left Kathmandu for a week in November 20, 2003. Kriti could at least see her husband even if he never cared, but for a week it was sure that Kriti would miss Krishna. Two days later, while cleaning the room Kriti found a diary in Krishna's table. She turned the pages… 1970 April 4 Today is the happiest day. I won Essay Competition! Wow!! I was the hero at assembly. I never thought that I would be so good at writing. Thanks to teacher for providing me this diary. 1970 June 8 I got scolding from teacher just because my homework was incomplete…She could at least give me a chance. Why don’t teachers understand that students can some time have problems? I was regular at other times.. She turned pages, smiled and kept on reading. She knew it was wrong to read someone's diary, but it belonged to her husband and her husband was not someone! She read last notes… November 19, 2003 Tomorrow, I will be leaving India for a week. I have lot of expectations but let's see. I am happy and I will be visiting new place. I will complete my 'Asian Traveling Zone' when I will be back. November 18, 2003 Today, I completed my writing for New York Times, 'America could be opportunity for Asia', and sent it. I also began writing 'Asian Traveling Zone' for next week. My publicity in National Television makes me feel proud. November 17, 2003 Interviewing in television made me nervous, but I don’t think anybody realized it. Started writing: 'America could be Opportunity for Asia'. Checked my postal address and received tickets for my India Trip! Happy!! She now turned page of October 18, 2002, the day of her marriage. November 25, 2002 Kriti…I got married to her. I don’t know why marriage is the must…but okay, I am no more single. Kriti is my wife from today. I could not write anything today. Felt awkward to be 'beula' as everyone were watching me. Kriti now started turning important date's note. January 1, 2003 New Year! From today I will be writing about Fluctuation in Gold Price and its effect in Asia. This will be really long and fit for journal. I wish I had my old friends to celebrate this New Year day. Kriti felt sad because it was the day when she told Krishna the symptom of pregnancy and the last line made her upset. She then turned to the date of birth of child. September 15, 2003 My novel got released today by US Ambassador! Wow! I was the hero of the day. I am really happy. I am scared, but I hope there is not a single mistake for critics to criticize. Kriti now turned to October 1st, day when their son got dead. October 1, 2003 Today my brief interview on New York Times excited me, and my novel's review had a kind of awesome response from International Medias. These were enough. 'Birth and death of our child had no meaning in his life?', 'I am his wife, and I have no place in his diary, I sacrificed everything for him but…', ' I cannot take divorce…but how can I go with him throughout my life', 'He really does not give damn to me', 'For him writing is everything…' She could not think anything and could not decide. All she could do is take rat's poison and drag her to death…a peace zone…and she did that!

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Krishna could not believe his ears when he heard this, he however managed to return back after two days of Kriti's death. Entire Maskey family was in pain. All thought she committed suicide because of the death of her son except Krishna, who found out that someone went through his diary because it lacked leaf and was in different place. Krishna never knew the exact reason of her suicide but he had the clue that there was something in the diary that pinched Kriti but could not figure out that something.

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Maskey family had to go through two deaths simultaneously. Krishna's upset behavior crossed the mark. Kriti's memory began troubling him. It had been month of Kriti's death, but still he was unable to concentrate his mind. Every time he sat down to write, he used to see Kriti in front of him. Even when he was not writing, he could see Kriti lying on the bed, sometimes combing her hair. Hallucination was the real case, but it could not be proved. Months passed and Krishna could not yet concentrate on writing. He could gather ideas in his mind, but could never write. Kriti's hung photo; Kriti, Krishna and their child's photo began troubling Krishna a lot. Kriti was present when he dreamt and even when he woke up. He used to see Kriti giving him food to it even when mother was giving him the food. Kriti…Kriti…Kriti…that was everything now. Considering his mental state, his family decided for the second marriage with the belief that Krishna was in fact missing Kriti and his second marriage would solve the problem they searched another girl Sneha. Sneha was beautiful girl of twenty six, and was studying MBA. She was beautiful, hot and erotic. Krishna could not ignore his family decision and hence they got married. Sneha was totally different from Kriti. She got physical from the very first night and was romantic. No matter how hard, Krishna tried to forget Kriti, he could not. He could neither concentrate on writing, nor could he give proper time to Sneha. Still, every time he sat down to write, Kriti's memory began troubling him. Kriti's image interrupted him at the time of writing. He even tried writing getting drunk. Newly married Sneha could feel his abnormal act and she ran away without any notice. Maybe to her boyfriend if she had…or where? Maskey family had no idea, and they didn’t bother to know either. Sneha's absence never troubled him, but Kriti's image was always interrupting him. Symptom of paranoid schizophrenia could be observed in him. It was matter of worry for entire literature lovers since Krishna's writing was now on halt. Although Krishna made an excuse that he needs a rest, he could not write. His loneliness troubled him and he started acting like mad. Hallucination did not decrease rather increased and he heard Kriti, he now saw Kriti every time and everywhere.

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One fine morning, Krishna was found dead…He was lying with Kriti's photo on his chest. There were two diaries burnt near his body. One probably was the one that Kriti viewed…and the other? No one ever knew…

***

SLC: Abbreviation for School Leaving Certificate; One must pass through it in order to study High School in Nepal.

Beula: Nepali word for bridegroom.

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.

--

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.
--

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…
--

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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