It's a shitty little place, with all the tarkaari waalas, with their green and orange and brown vegetables lined on the sidewalk, and women in orange and pink and red kurthas and saris and men in white and blue and gray and yellow, and girls in pink and blue and white and yellow and black, britney spears emblazoned across their chest, the unknown fighters in a battle they don't know they're fighting, not caring, because they don't need to-- for there are more important things to care, like what do they cook in the evening, or what do they make their servants cook in the evening, and how Rasmila has been acting so bitchy lately after being promoted, or about getting a new place to stay, because gurrl, you're 24, and you're in the most happening city of your country, and you're still living in a darned hostel and have no fking boyfriend to talk to when you are tired of acting your part, or or what the hell was Shami saying the other day about moving wherever with whoever, because he was pretty damn making that shit up, and it's pretty obvious he was pulling stuff outta' his ass, or about the damn tarariwaalas who have captured the sidewalks and that little weird kid across the street's who's gonna have a tough time if she doesn't start acting more normal-ish, or what the hell is wrong with the lecherous bastards in Kathmandu who have nothing else to do but stare at those damn boobs, even those damn office waalas and come on, this is 2011, almost 2012 now, end of the world as we know, and we're still living in this ancient age where a girl can't live freely, or wherever those lice came from, there's someone real dirty out there, and short hair sounds like a real good idea right now, with Emma Watson and all.
Period.
Everything moves slowly. Or stops. Because nothing is happening, and what is happening is an illusion of things happening. You want things to start happening, and you pretend things are happening, and slowly people around you start pretending it's happening too, and everyone's convinced things are happening, but mass hysteria does not a reality create. Nothing's happening in real life. It's all in your head. And in other people's head, because you planted in it their heads. Most of them took it in very willingly because they have nothing else to do. They do actually, but they want to imagine that being a part of the delusion is doing something. And it is so easy to do so, the delusions form a vicious cycle, each delusion fueling another set of delusion until everyone who wants to believe something is happening, is convinced it is.
Of course, Krishna said it a long time ago that everything's delusion, including this Universe. The only real thing is the truth, and the truth is the singularity. Of course, unless you're a Hare Krishna, you know he was making shit up too. Things don't work like that. Sometimes, things are real, not merely delusions, but it takes real courage and hard work to create real stuff, and not live in the castles of delusion. But we take the easy way. There's a third way too-- you manipulate yourself out of the delusion by deluding yourself out of the fake reality. Don't share the common delusion-- once everyone has their own personal delusions, the mass hysteria breaks down, it becomes obvious that things are not happening, and finally once people learn to live with their self-delusions, they start working towards making things happen. And not merely deluding themselves.
The Taxis and tempos get very splash-y during rainy season in Maitidevi, and splash things around a lot. You have to wade through quite some water to get out of the tempo in the tempo stand there. The tarkariwaalas are sometime knee-deep in water, the road more of a rivulet.
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