नेपाल मर्‍यो

"नेपाल इज डेड, " म भन्छु |
"हँ? के मा.कु.ने. ...???"
"हैन हैन | मेरो मतलब साँचीकैको नेपाल के... नेपाल देश |"
हाहा, साहित्यिक पो हुन खोजेको रैछ त. हाहा.
हाहा. म साहितिक तेती हुन्न.
म पनि साहित्तिक मान्छे हुँ नि.
कुक्कुर
चोर
भाते

I do not know where we are. It could be Kathmandu, it could be Pokhara, or Biratnagar or Tamghas. I can only hear birds chirping. I have no idea how much time has passed since we were brought here, but I am certain it is dusk.

It is easy to get lost in times like these, he begins, but I signal him to stop. I am nauseous. We must have a system, he does not stop, and I try to shut everything out by hiding my head between my knees, clutching my legs. It does not stop him, but the ache in my head gets marginally better.

It's dark and damp. The air smells of cowdung and hay. It's moisty.  The birds have become quieter, but the crickets have taken their place in shrieking on top of their voices. I could close my eyes and pretend I was in my room in Kathmandu, or in class waiting for the teacher, the entire class having gone dumb. Or I could pretend I was falling from a bridge, towards a river, held by a cord. No, I couldn't do that. Too much imagination. I don't have that kind of imagination. I could pretend I was sleeping and this was a dream. I could do that.