He appears at the door when I rush to answer the sudden knock. He, in
Dhaka Topi, snatches my heart with his gentle smile. His mustache is not uncut. He is as lucky as me since he does not get beard. At least we both can save from shaving. My hair freezes getting him in front of myself after ages. My throat does not allow me to produce the sound. Mouth just remains open. I can't believe that he is at my door! 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 get up in which I saw him last time.
It was the year 2003, he left the house for attending a "Poet's Conference" in the same costume. He used to carry a small diary with half torn out cover and a star line ball pen. I used to be curious about the things in his diary. Once, I dared to open his diary. I was surprised; the diary was carrying the beautiful poems with incredible handwriting. After reading the poems of diary, 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 pouring 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, young man are still pouring to overseas; though the location has shifted from Lhasha to Arabs and Gulf, in order to accumulate money. We hardly find modern Muna, who is satisfied even in the troublesome life.
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 the Earth". The date when the poem was written was 2004. The time was the peak of People's War and the then King was making new law to rule the people.
The architect of such beautiful and weighty 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 is his personality as poet. The same personality is standing at my door! He seems he left all his personalities behind and came just to meet me. He himself asks to come inside after a long silence from my side. I happily allow him. How can I deny? He creases my hair, asks about my days- "have you completed your study?
I replied- "I am writing my thesis"
"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 books. I cannot believe that he has already red that book, the book which I could not find in Nepali and indian market, which Celayne sent from
I am enjoying his company more than I can say. My heart is weightless in the pleasure. I am feeling very much delighted like a scrambled 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. In the mean time, 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 connect the dream but could not. I cried loud "Baaaaa! Please come back……..I have not finised, please Baba come back"
"What happened?"- My brother jumped towards my bed hurriedly with frightened eyes.
"He was here!"
He started to weep.
It is the worst part of being elder that you cannot cry as you want in front of younger because you have to take care of them. I had to squeeze my heart and hold my tears to take care of my brother. I had no choice rather scolding heart "Stop being mad! How baba, who passed away 9 years back, can come to the room?"
Sometimes in my dream he appears in such a way that I feel as if it is in real that he is with me. I want to dream him again and again.