He appears at
my door when I rush to answer the sudden knock. A man in
Dhaka Topi,
snatches my heart with his gentle smile. He is as lucky as me since we do not
get beard. At least we both could save from shaving. My hair freezes to
encounter him after ages. My throat does not allow me to utter any word. Mouth
just remains open. I can't believe what I am witnessing! Simple shirt with
pocket at left chest, simple trousers without belt, a diary in right hand and a
pen in shirt pocket! I find him in the exact attire in which I saw him last
time. He left home in the year 2003 to attend a "Poet's Conference"
in the same attire.
He used to carry
a small diary with half damaged cover and a star line ball pen. I used to be
curious about the things written in his diary. Once, I dared to open it. I was amazed.
The diary was full of beautiful poems with incredible handwriting. While
reading, I could not help myself comparing him with Lekhnath Poudel and Madhav
Prasad Ghimire. I found the poems not less beautiful and heavy in conveying
message than those of these poets. All the poems were in rhyme (We say 'Chanda'
in Nepali). I still remember 2 stanzas of a poem. It seemed he wrote those
lines in memory of Laxmi Prasad Devkota (the Great Poet of Nepal).
The poem reads:
मुना झै छन सारा नवयूवतिका हालतहरु ।
बिदेसिएका छन् सब मदनका तागतहरु ।।
धनैको लाल्चाले गरम भूमिमा ब्याकुल बनी ।।।
जलेका छन् हाम्रा नव मदन काकाकुल बनी ।।।।
मुनाको झै सन्तोष नव यूवतिको छैन मनमा ।
फूलि सिक्री बाला गल तिलहरी झप्प तनमा ।।
लगाउने आशा मन मगजमा व्यापक भरी ।।।
जलेका छन् व्यर्थै मन महलमा सपना छरी ।।।।
The lines are talking with Poet
Devkota. They are comparing today's youth with the characters of his
overwhelmingly famous book "Muna Madan". Madan goes
to Lhasha to earn breads neglecting heart rendering request of Muna- his wife
not to go, in Muna Madan. Muna says she would be satisfied in very
low standers life rather being separated. The extract of poem above says young
man are still in ques to go to overseas to earn. The location has changed from
Lhasha to Arabs and Gulf. We hardly find modern Muna, who is satisfied even with
what they have.
Here I remembered another extract:
"...कालो कानुन गरिब जनका छातीमा गुड्न
थाल्यो ।
साम्रज्यैले नव भुवनको अस्मिता मुड्न थाल्यो ।।..."
The extract says: "Black
Law started to roll on the chest of poor; Imperialism has started to
contaminate the grace of Earth". The date when the poem was
written was 2004. The time when the 'People's War' was in its climax and the
then King was exercising the absolute monarchy banning all the political
parties.
The architect of such beautiful poems
is at my door! How should I react? I am in dilemma.
I know very well that he had
multiple personalities: an overseer (Junior Engineer), communist party
member, social worker, community leader and poet. What I liked the most was
a poet in him. The poet is standing at my door! He seems he left all his
personalities behind and came just to meet me. He asks a permission to come
inside after a long silence from my side. I happily allow him. How can I deny?
He creases my hair and asks about
my days- "have you completed your study?
"I am writing my thesis"-
I replied.
"On what topic?"- He asks
with happy eyes.
In a murmuring voice I said-
"Mulk Raj Anand's 'Two Leaves and a Bud'"
He started his lecture on the
particular book. I cannot believe he has already read that book which I could
not find in Nepali and Indian market. A friend in the UK had sent me that book.
I am enjoying his company immensely.
My heart is weightless in the pleasure. I am feeling very much delighted like a
crack of the paddy field feels getting rain after a long drought. He goes on
advising me the way that I should take ahead. I am listening him as a disciple
listens to his Guru. Why would I miss the chance? After all, I was dying for
this moment for a long time. I am lost in his voice.
In the meantime, my cell phone
rings. I woke up suddenly, wanted to break the cell phone as it broke the
series of my dream. I tried to sleep and reconnect with the moment but could
not.
I cried loud "Baaaaa! Please
come back…"
I have not done yet, please Baba
come back"
"What happened?"- My
brother jumped to my bed hurriedly with frightened eyes.
"He was here!"
"Who"
"Our baba"
He started to cry.
It is the worst part of being elder
that you cannot show tears in front of younger because you are supposed to wipe
their tears. I had to squeeze my heart and hold my tears to take care of my
brother. I had no choice rather than scolding my stupid heart "Stop being
mad! How baba, who passed away 9 years back, can come to the room?"
Still, I want to get him in my dream
again and again.
Ramesh Adhikari
Anamnagar-32 Ktm
28.01.2012
आफ्नो हक लगाउन सपनीमा आयौ फेरी
दामन झर्ने बित्तिकै म भने केटाकेटी जस्तै रुप भाइलाई रुदानेको शालिक पु-यादिन जिद्दि गर्न थालेँ । कम बाल्ने तर ओठमा सधै मुस्कानको गुलाब फुलाईरहने रुपले बाँयातर्फ इशारा गर्दै भन्यो, “हेर्नुस तिनै हुन तपाँईका रोल मोडल”। ए हो त ! मेरा अगाडि एउटा बलिष्ठ मान्छेको शालिक उभिएको थियो । छाती धक्क फुलेर आयो, शीर श्रद्दाले निहुरियो । हातमा हाते माइक, सलक्क परेको जर्सी कोट र पाइन्टमा सजिएको त्यो शालिक मेरा रोल मोडल रुपचन्द्र बिष्टको थियो । शालिक उभिएको ‘बेश’का चारै पाटामा मार्वलमा शिलालेख (मार्वल लेख भन्नुपर्ला सायद) कुँदिएका थिए । जाँदाजादै देखिने पाटामा रुदानेको संक्षिप्त जीवनी र अन्य पाटामा उनका चर्चित भनाइहरु कुँदिएका थिए । विकास घर, जो पालुङ्गको गा.वि.स भवन पनि हो, काठमाण्डौका सरकारी भवनभन्दा राम्रो थियो । पञ्चायत कालमा नै बनाइएको उक्त भवनको नामाकरण उनै रुदानेले गरेका थिए रे । पञ्चायतको नाम जोडिनै पर्ने स्थानिय निकायलाई उनले आफ्नै लवजमा नामाकरण गरेका थिए रे । “साढे २ बजे अन्तिम गाडि आउँछ है दाई” रुप भाइको उद्घोषसंगै करिब २० मिनेटको फोटो सेसन पछि रुपचन्द्रको त्यो शालिकलाई स्यालुट गरेर हामी पुन सडकमा उक्ल्यौं । केहिबेर दामनको आलुवारी अवलोकन ग-यौ । वर्षै पिच्छे आलु महोत्सव गर्ने मेरो गाउँ हेमजा भन्दा धेरै आलु खेती देखे मैले । दामनमा खेती योग्य जमिनमा घर थिएनन् । ‘हाइवे’मा ठुलो बजार थिएन । पाखामा झुम्म परेका वस्ति देखिन्छन् पालुङ्गमा । 
He appears at
my door when I rush to answer the sudden knock. A man in 
