Road trip part 2
"Brothers, there's going to be breakfast, want to get some?" he shouted, into the Jeep. His friends stirred.
Raul instructed the driver to stop. He wanted to get a good view of the city, and he'd just found
"We're there already?" Shyam bhai asked, rubbing his eyes. He sat straight, and stretched. He groggily stared ahead. Harkit opened his eyes, and jerked straight. "Oh, oh, breakfast time? Yeah, yeah lets get breakfast. I'm sort of hungry and hungover, so food is going to be good. I want food. Yes, it will be good, I'm going to have so much food, to prepare for the chickens and goats and fishes later," he said, with surprising gusto and got out of the car. Shyam bhai lazily moved his hand to the handle, and opened the door. He yawned. "I'm probably going to get some tea and eggs. There's no hunger yet. And then, I'll need to save space for later food too," he said.
They ambled to the dining room with homemade wooden chairs and tables. Thick milk tea was boiling on the stove, and six boiled eggs were placed neatly on the counter. The woman outside threatened the children to get into the house, or else she was giving them away to the bearded beggars with the big black bag. The children ran into the house. She caught the youngest one, and carried her in her arms.
"Where are you all coming from? What would you like to eat today?" she asked.
"From Kathmandu, just traveling around. Do you have selroti and pickled potatoes," Harkit asked.
"Yes, how many plates?" she said.
"Three plates please. Two for Harihar, and one for the driver. Can you bring four cups of tea and four boiled eggs too?" Raul said, looking at the driver, who had sat at the adjoining table. "You will eat selroti and potatoes, and tea and egg, yes" Raul asked?
'Yes sir, I eat," he said, taking a gulp of water from his water bottle that he had just refilled at the pump outside.
They made plans for the rest of the day. Harkit wanted to drink after returning, but Shyam bhai was tired. Harkit offered to buy all booze Shyam bhai could drink on a different occasion if he was willing to drink later that day. Shyam bhai thought about that, but declined the offer: "Can't take up your offer if I die of alcohol poisoning and general tiredness", he said. Then they got into a long conversation of whether someone could die of tiredness. Shyam bhai claimed it was possible: you could get heart attack, or exhaustion, or whatever it is you get when you get too tired, he said, giving examples of how people were constantly falling down due to dehydration and general fatigue. "Ohho, bro, but that's not exhaustion bro, that's aru nai aru kura, you do all hawa kura and nothing solid. We are talking about real life, about exhaustion, but about dehydration or other things. If you were tired, but if still dehydrated, I don't think you would die," Harkit said.
The team wolfed down the breakfast, and the journey was back on. The two back-seaters went back to seat right away. Raul noticed that Harkit was suddenly snoring loudly. He found it strange that he hadn't been snoring earlier, but the snores had started once he had had a stomach full of food. Must note, he thought, that Harkit snores when he eats a lot. He decided to not feed Harkit a lot if he was expecting to sleep next to him whenever.
They started gaining altitude. The valley opened up to them. To Raul, it looked like a dirty pearl. Surrounded by a thick blanket of yellow-brown haze, it still had a shiny white sheen of white puffs below. All the houses made it look less beautiful, but even then, the valley was incredibly beautiful. It was the surrounding blue hills, the green forests at the foots of those hills, the red brick village houses with corrugated tin houses below that, and finally, the city, in all its glory and dirt, that made it so great. The city itself was down below, the hell, the nasty, smelly unlivable sewer that fouled up the rest of the valley, whose stench permeated into nook and corner of everything and everyone that lived in it. And yet Raul loved the city.
Why did Raul love the city so much? He wondered. He wasn't a particularly patriotic person -- neither was he any more poetic than the average man. He hadn't -- before he had come back -- known that many people in Kathmandu either. Now -- now it was a different story. It was his city now, and the people his. He had lovers and friends and family, and adopted families, and significant investments. He liked to think of the city as an extension of his body -- a second stinky hole that was necessary but wasn't to be discussed in respected company.
Road trip part one of many
[NaNoWriMo 15]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Brother, the trip is going to be seven hours long, you are ready for that," Shyam bhai asked.
"I have driven East Coast to West Coast many times. This won't be very hard, I think," he said, looking out of the window. "How are the roads these days," he said, taking his right hand out to feel the air's warmth.
"My friends were saying that they've repaired recently, but some parts are really bad re. We couldn't have gone in my car. It was really lucky that you were able to arrange this Jeep. Hahaha, Shyam's Maruti wouldn't even cross the first hill," Harkit said from behind.
"Yeah, this was one of the UN donated vehicles they brought during the weapons inspections. I have a contact in the Ministry. After you guys talked about traveling, I told him about him, and asked him if had anything that would drive well. All the inspectors are gone now --" Raul said -- "now that the weapons have all turned to dust haha, so it's a good time to make use of the available resources". He put a multi-stop map routing in his phone GPS, and put it in the dashboard in front of him. He looked at the driver. "Can you take us to Patale Bhyanjyang? We're going to drive round all the hills of Kathmandu. You can do it, right?" Raul asked, teasingly.
"Of course sir, it's been twenty years since I've been driving," the driver said, looking out of the window. "Are we stopping anywhere for lunch, or driving throughout?" he asked.
"We will stop at a couple of places. We are going to eat trouts, and I've ordered half a goat, and a local chicken, all at different places. If that's not enough, you'll be tipped to eat at a couple of more places," Raul said.
"No, no, it will be enough," the driver said, looking ahead, smiling.
The jeep was mostly quiet. Raul had made everyone get up at six in the morning because Shyam bhai had wanted to get to as many hill-tops as possible, and Raul wanted to get back on time. His hangover was milder than everyone else's: he had pretended to have diarrhoea to avoid drink the previous night. The other two, however, had gone all the way. As Harkit had said -- "Hungover or not, Raul is going to make us get out and get into the car anyway, so we might as well indulge all the way in". They had stayed in late. Late, of course was relative -- this was the late-thirtysomething staying out -- they had all gone to bed slightly before midnight.
The morning traffic was light. Most of the vehicles on the road were either delivering vegetables, or transporting students. Around Pepsicola in Bhaktapur, while waiting for the traffic light, Raul saw a farmer watering his Cauliflower fields with a dark-grey sludge from the nearby Bagmati. Avoid eating Cauliflower outside the house, Raul took a mental note. Soon after, the both sides of the road were dotted by clay mines and tall chimneys of brick-kilns. The kilns weren't running, they weren't yet spewing the reddish-brown noxious fumes yet. The workers were hard at work laying large piles of raw clay, cutting them with metal stencils, and collecting dried and cut bricks into large piles. Their skins, weathered by the elements, looked like old tanned leather that was peeling off. Raul saw young kids following their mothers as they skillfully tossed bricks into large piles on their heads to carry into the kiln. He could see one pair get ready for breakfast, the mother unwrapping a knot in her sari to reveal beaten rice, sugar and a few pieces of cheap wheat biscuit. I wonder what they're thinking, Raul thought, and what they think about their future. He didn't feel like following that thread of thought -- it hurt his head. He sighed, and looked straight ahead at the road.
Children dressed in light blue t-shirts ambled on either side of the highway, in straight lines on their way to school. A few had bags, most carried textbooks and notebooks on their hands; the girls had had put on the pens as hair pins. The kids waved at the jeep. As always, Raul waved back.
The Sun was considerably higher up in the sky now, and people out for morning walks had returned. People were out and about in convenience stores on the way to get fresh milk and vegetables. Office workers were getting ready to head out to work. Farmers, who had been working out before the sun had gone out were resting, getting ready for another round of work before it got too hot to work. Traffic was getting heavy around Banepa, they shared the road with motorbikes and scooters. There were more uniformed students riding the motorbikes than Raul had imagined there would be. A lot more mixed couples too, Raul noticed.
Raul decided to stop for light breakfast. He wanted something sweet and something savory, but not too filling. Chana-chiura-and-jeri, he decided. He instructed the driver to stop at a clean-looking place. He looked behind: his co-travellers were fast asleep despite their heads violently bobbing around. "Shyam Bhai!" he shouted. Both his friends stirred, but neither opened their eyes. A few minutes later, the driver slowed down the jeep and asked Raul if the nearby place was ok to stop at. "Yeah, lets stop, I'll wake them up there," he said.
They stopped in front of a garish blue-colored house by the highway. There was a handpump at the front of the house, and the pile of sand and stones laying around suggested the house was a new construction. Three little kids with only shorts on were running around their mother, who was trying to shepherd them into the house.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Brother, the trip is going to be seven hours long, you are ready for that," Shyam bhai asked.
"I have driven East Coast to West Coast many times. This won't be very hard, I think," he said, looking out of the window. "How are the roads these days," he said, taking his right hand out to feel the air's warmth.
"My friends were saying that they've repaired recently, but some parts are really bad re. We couldn't have gone in my car. It was really lucky that you were able to arrange this Jeep. Hahaha, Shyam's Maruti wouldn't even cross the first hill," Harkit said from behind.
"Yeah, this was one of the UN donated vehicles they brought during the weapons inspections. I have a contact in the Ministry. After you guys talked about traveling, I told him about him, and asked him if had anything that would drive well. All the inspectors are gone now --" Raul said -- "now that the weapons have all turned to dust haha, so it's a good time to make use of the available resources". He put a multi-stop map routing in his phone GPS, and put it in the dashboard in front of him. He looked at the driver. "Can you take us to Patale Bhyanjyang? We're going to drive round all the hills of Kathmandu. You can do it, right?" Raul asked, teasingly.
"Of course sir, it's been twenty years since I've been driving," the driver said, looking out of the window. "Are we stopping anywhere for lunch, or driving throughout?" he asked.
"We will stop at a couple of places. We are going to eat trouts, and I've ordered half a goat, and a local chicken, all at different places. If that's not enough, you'll be tipped to eat at a couple of more places," Raul said.
"No, no, it will be enough," the driver said, looking ahead, smiling.
The jeep was mostly quiet. Raul had made everyone get up at six in the morning because Shyam bhai had wanted to get to as many hill-tops as possible, and Raul wanted to get back on time. His hangover was milder than everyone else's: he had pretended to have diarrhoea to avoid drink the previous night. The other two, however, had gone all the way. As Harkit had said -- "Hungover or not, Raul is going to make us get out and get into the car anyway, so we might as well indulge all the way in". They had stayed in late. Late, of course was relative -- this was the late-thirtysomething staying out -- they had all gone to bed slightly before midnight.
The morning traffic was light. Most of the vehicles on the road were either delivering vegetables, or transporting students. Around Pepsicola in Bhaktapur, while waiting for the traffic light, Raul saw a farmer watering his Cauliflower fields with a dark-grey sludge from the nearby Bagmati. Avoid eating Cauliflower outside the house, Raul took a mental note. Soon after, the both sides of the road were dotted by clay mines and tall chimneys of brick-kilns. The kilns weren't running, they weren't yet spewing the reddish-brown noxious fumes yet. The workers were hard at work laying large piles of raw clay, cutting them with metal stencils, and collecting dried and cut bricks into large piles. Their skins, weathered by the elements, looked like old tanned leather that was peeling off. Raul saw young kids following their mothers as they skillfully tossed bricks into large piles on their heads to carry into the kiln. He could see one pair get ready for breakfast, the mother unwrapping a knot in her sari to reveal beaten rice, sugar and a few pieces of cheap wheat biscuit. I wonder what they're thinking, Raul thought, and what they think about their future. He didn't feel like following that thread of thought -- it hurt his head. He sighed, and looked straight ahead at the road.
Children dressed in light blue t-shirts ambled on either side of the highway, in straight lines on their way to school. A few had bags, most carried textbooks and notebooks on their hands; the girls had had put on the pens as hair pins. The kids waved at the jeep. As always, Raul waved back.
The Sun was considerably higher up in the sky now, and people out for morning walks had returned. People were out and about in convenience stores on the way to get fresh milk and vegetables. Office workers were getting ready to head out to work. Farmers, who had been working out before the sun had gone out were resting, getting ready for another round of work before it got too hot to work. Traffic was getting heavy around Banepa, they shared the road with motorbikes and scooters. There were more uniformed students riding the motorbikes than Raul had imagined there would be. A lot more mixed couples too, Raul noticed.
Raul decided to stop for light breakfast. He wanted something sweet and something savory, but not too filling. Chana-chiura-and-jeri, he decided. He instructed the driver to stop at a clean-looking place. He looked behind: his co-travellers were fast asleep despite their heads violently bobbing around. "Shyam Bhai!" he shouted. Both his friends stirred, but neither opened their eyes. A few minutes later, the driver slowed down the jeep and asked Raul if the nearby place was ok to stop at. "Yeah, lets stop, I'll wake them up there," he said.
They stopped in front of a garish blue-colored house by the highway. There was a handpump at the front of the house, and the pile of sand and stones laying around suggested the house was a new construction. Three little kids with only shorts on were running around their mother, who was trying to shepherd them into the house.
Issues
[NaNoWriMo 13, 14]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"--again, again-- you're mis-- you're lyin-- you're --it's not true! it's not true--", Jaggannath Ji said.
"Jaggannath ji, you were in this forum almost exactly a month ago, and you claimed that your party had nothing -- please let me complete-- please let me complete, but now after a legal investigation -- a legal investigation, please let me-- it is now clear that those massive acts of briberies were planned and executed by the central committee, of which you are a part of. So why did you lie to us then, and are you legally liable now?" asked the moderator.
"--Thank you -- thank you for asking the question. Yes, yes, I was here, with you, and two different participants at the time. It was then, that I had said that the decision was not party's that is true too. As you mentioned, it has come to light after the investigation by various agencies, that some persons of the central committee had indeed instructed the individuals to commit those crimes, which, to remind you, our party has repeatedly condemned, and we have fully co-operated with the police, as you know. Now, the particular individuals concerned were taken in taken in investigative custody too, as you know. So the party has fully co-operated, and there is nothing much going on, as you can see, there were some elements in higher up positions that decided to undermine existing regulations, and they will face the corrective action, from the party, as well as the state. It is a closed case, as far as I'm concerned," Jagannath ji said, nodding his head.
What a clown, Raul thought, looking at the tv. Only a month ago, he had been there with that clown, who had shouted till the end of eternity that it was not a party action. Now the chickens had come home too roost. Bribing voters had been an electoral practice for the last fifty years, but regulations against it had recently passed, and the agencies had only been newly empowered. They were itching to make an example out of someone, anyone. That, and the fact that it has been so sleazy, so outlandishly brazen, that it was almost comical. They could definitely have been more subtle, but the agents on the ground had been village goons who had considered themselves untouchable: they wanted to show off the money, and did it in the most stupidly way possible. By handing out wads of money in the streets. On the day of the election. To people going in and coming out, with a receipt that'd give them more money if the party won the elections. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so wrong.
"Everything you have said is accurate, but would you mind explaining your involvement for us, please? Were you really that much unaware of what was happening in your own Central Committee," asked Sudha, who was seated to one side of Jaggannath ji, away from the moderator.
"--I found about the happenings just as everyone else did. There are 32 high-level members in our central committe. It is very difficult to keep track of what everyone is doing at all the time, and these two or three members took actions by themselves without discussing with us. Sudha ji and Seems ji, you are both also members of Central Committees yourself. Would you know what each and every one was doing to be able to control if one of them does something illegal? It's the same. Nothing I can comment on that more than that," he said.
Seems got ready to speak. The moderator looked at his sheet and was about to ask another question, but gave in to her. "It's not like that! For us, we make subcommittees to to tasks, and make the members of those teams do them. Looking at your party's case, it appears that they were tasked--let me complete -- that they were tasked -- by your party -- how, how-- how does this look from -- look, I'm not blaming you -- no, no -- not blaming, not blaming -- but but to someone who didn't know, it really would -- looks like a planned --planned party action. What would you say to them?" she said.
"--no no. I am not in the witness stand. No, no-- there's nothing like that. As you know, legal actions are being action. Also-- I have to say -- I have to say -- say this," he said, stammering a bit, "that every time I come here, it becomes my interrogration, and not a panel discussion. We have two very able, and high-level women in the panel, and they should be given an opportunity to give their answers too -- instead of making this my interrogration. We say -- we say that we should give women more time in television and public spaces to speak -- say it everywhere -- but we don't practice it. I have spoken for more than half the time here, and the two ladies here have barely been let to say anything, answer hard questions. Is it that we are not confident that they are able to answer hard questions," he said, looking at the moderator.
Seema gave a hoarse loud laugh. "No, no we're fine Jaggannath ji. If we had been in a similar position, we wouldn't mind talking all the time either. You are in a difficult position, because from everyone's point of view it looks like you are implicated in the situation. So I think we should give you a fair chance to you to defent yourself," she said.
Sudha nodded. "Absolutely. We can come back at any other time. It is the ideal time for you to protect your dignity and all the goodwill you have collected for yourelf throughout these years. If you don't talk now, the public won't get your message, so it wouldn't be fair for you, " she said, only slightly mischieviously.
There was silence in the keynote table.
The moderator cleared his throat. "Taking off from that, it does seem that we are unfairly targetting Jaggannath ji, we have given him a good opportunity to defend himself. Seema ji, lets get back to what we were talking about before we got into this," he said looking at her. "The National Insurance Policy that you have proposed adds twelve thousand rupees a year. For a nation whose per capita income is barely 800 dollars, that is a significant proportion. How can you justify forcing such an expensive scheme upon citizens of a country whose 20% citizens are still below the national poverty and one in ten citizens earns less than two dollars a day."
"Yes, you are right, the Per Capita is 800 dollars a year. But that's not purchasing-power adjusted. Adjusted for how much we can buy, our Capita is actually about three thousand dollars. Now, twelve-to-fifteen thousand rupees might seem like a lot, but it's about half of one's monthly income. Additionally, the scheme is designed to protect exactly the sort of people you mention -- the extremely poor who cannot afford to meet the basic necessities of life. Those who can afford to pay for the scheme, and the rest are provided basic necessities. The more you earn, the more you have to pay -- so it's not like everyone is paying the fifteen thousands. When even the extreme poor are given basic means of living, they can pay more attention to education, and improving themselves, and so forth. This also means that they wouldn't have to have their young kids to work in their farms or at homes, so we are also investing in the future," she said, matter-of-factly.
"Some are saying," the moderator said, nodding at Jaggannath ji," such as Jaggannath ji's party, for example, that this is not a good idea. It's being said that the scheme is going to make people lazy and less likely to work. After all, if the government is going to take care of all of everyone's needs, wouldn't everyone just stay at home at live on the government money," he asked, looking at the papers he had in front of him.
"If people don't get their two meals a day and a roof above their head, they die. Getting food to survive, and room to warm yourself is not luxury -- it's treating people like human beings instead of goats and sheep. Food and Roof -- that's what the scheme provides, not luxuries to make people lazy. We're in the 21st century, and we cannot allow our people to have to live like animals. We have to have basic human compassion, and support the basic necessities of our countrymen. What I don't understand is, what is their plan to support the very poor persons? Do they really plan to let them die?," said Seema, with strong resolute, looking at Jaggannath ji.
"It is our belief that -- it is our belief --that our brothers and sisters don't need free donated money. What they really need is just an opportunity to Work to Make a Living. As we say, all people want is the "Garii Khaana Deu" mentality. Now, of course we want people to have a good standard of living. But the way to do that would be by giving them ample oppurtinies to find and get jobs, not throw money at them like beggars. Seema ji-- please let me-- Seema ji let me complete my part -- let me defend myself, like you were saying before -- so their proposed scheme will not provide enough opportunities for work. It does not increase their standard for living -- it just gives them a survival, and reduces their expectation from the government. We believe the less fortunate public should be given a good, safe, stable environment -- to find jobs and create business environments. We need to support our farmers to increase their productivity, encourage scientific farming, get more people working. We oppose the National Insurance Program because it detracts from these aims, and rather makes implementing such schemes more complicated. People will start thinking : well we're already giving a large percentage of our income to the poor people, do we have to to give them free jobs too? We are not comfortable with the social dynamics it would lead to. We don't want the extreme poor to just survive, we want to put them on an upward trajectory to happiness and prosperity," he said, running out of breath.
Seema laughed. "Seema ji, he says your plan does not actually empower the people you're trying to help. So why does your proposal not encourage the poor to have a good living and put them on an upward trajectory, but instead satiate them with just a basic needs? Would this not be a way to satisfy the minimum for the votes, without leading to long-term benefits for the country," the moderator asked, shuffling around his notes. He was writing furiously now.
"If you listened to Jaggannath ji, you would think everyone is a millionaire businesman lacking only the right environment. The truth is, most people need a safety of basic needs met before they can even think of reaching higher up. A hungry man doesn't think about how to double his income in six months, or his balance sheets and suppliers or promotions or whatever. He cares about where his next meal is coming from. We are completely for allowing people to setup businesses in a healthy business environment. But we think hungry people want food more than profits and losses, and that people with their stomachs full of warm food and a warm bed to sit on are much better workers and businessmen," she said, with a bit of irritation.
"Sudha ji, you want to add to this," the moderator asked.
She smiled. "The conversation has ended before I had my chance. I think Seema has already said everything that is to be said. We don't agree a hundred percent in the policies, and there are some points that I agree with Jaggannath ji too in this regards, but everything's been said in this regard. I have nothing to add," she said, weakly.
"You didn't get a lot of chance to speak today -- there was a lot of time spent on Jaggannath ji's issues. When you're here the next time, I'll make sure you get to speak for today too," said the moderator genially, nodding at Sudha.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"--again, again-- you're mis-- you're lyin-- you're --it's not true! it's not true--", Jaggannath Ji said.
"Jaggannath ji, you were in this forum almost exactly a month ago, and you claimed that your party had nothing -- please let me complete-- please let me complete, but now after a legal investigation -- a legal investigation, please let me-- it is now clear that those massive acts of briberies were planned and executed by the central committee, of which you are a part of. So why did you lie to us then, and are you legally liable now?" asked the moderator.
"--Thank you -- thank you for asking the question. Yes, yes, I was here, with you, and two different participants at the time. It was then, that I had said that the decision was not party's that is true too. As you mentioned, it has come to light after the investigation by various agencies, that some persons of the central committee had indeed instructed the individuals to commit those crimes, which, to remind you, our party has repeatedly condemned, and we have fully co-operated with the police, as you know. Now, the particular individuals concerned were taken in taken in investigative custody too, as you know. So the party has fully co-operated, and there is nothing much going on, as you can see, there were some elements in higher up positions that decided to undermine existing regulations, and they will face the corrective action, from the party, as well as the state. It is a closed case, as far as I'm concerned," Jagannath ji said, nodding his head.
What a clown, Raul thought, looking at the tv. Only a month ago, he had been there with that clown, who had shouted till the end of eternity that it was not a party action. Now the chickens had come home too roost. Bribing voters had been an electoral practice for the last fifty years, but regulations against it had recently passed, and the agencies had only been newly empowered. They were itching to make an example out of someone, anyone. That, and the fact that it has been so sleazy, so outlandishly brazen, that it was almost comical. They could definitely have been more subtle, but the agents on the ground had been village goons who had considered themselves untouchable: they wanted to show off the money, and did it in the most stupidly way possible. By handing out wads of money in the streets. On the day of the election. To people going in and coming out, with a receipt that'd give them more money if the party won the elections. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so wrong.
"Everything you have said is accurate, but would you mind explaining your involvement for us, please? Were you really that much unaware of what was happening in your own Central Committee," asked Sudha, who was seated to one side of Jaggannath ji, away from the moderator.
"--I found about the happenings just as everyone else did. There are 32 high-level members in our central committe. It is very difficult to keep track of what everyone is doing at all the time, and these two or three members took actions by themselves without discussing with us. Sudha ji and Seems ji, you are both also members of Central Committees yourself. Would you know what each and every one was doing to be able to control if one of them does something illegal? It's the same. Nothing I can comment on that more than that," he said.
Seems got ready to speak. The moderator looked at his sheet and was about to ask another question, but gave in to her. "It's not like that! For us, we make subcommittees to to tasks, and make the members of those teams do them. Looking at your party's case, it appears that they were tasked--let me complete -- that they were tasked -- by your party -- how, how-- how does this look from -- look, I'm not blaming you -- no, no -- not blaming, not blaming -- but but to someone who didn't know, it really would -- looks like a planned --planned party action. What would you say to them?" she said.
"--no no. I am not in the witness stand. No, no-- there's nothing like that. As you know, legal actions are being action. Also-- I have to say -- I have to say -- say this," he said, stammering a bit, "that every time I come here, it becomes my interrogration, and not a panel discussion. We have two very able, and high-level women in the panel, and they should be given an opportunity to give their answers too -- instead of making this my interrogration. We say -- we say that we should give women more time in television and public spaces to speak -- say it everywhere -- but we don't practice it. I have spoken for more than half the time here, and the two ladies here have barely been let to say anything, answer hard questions. Is it that we are not confident that they are able to answer hard questions," he said, looking at the moderator.
Seema gave a hoarse loud laugh. "No, no we're fine Jaggannath ji. If we had been in a similar position, we wouldn't mind talking all the time either. You are in a difficult position, because from everyone's point of view it looks like you are implicated in the situation. So I think we should give you a fair chance to you to defent yourself," she said.
Sudha nodded. "Absolutely. We can come back at any other time. It is the ideal time for you to protect your dignity and all the goodwill you have collected for yourelf throughout these years. If you don't talk now, the public won't get your message, so it wouldn't be fair for you, " she said, only slightly mischieviously.
There was silence in the keynote table.
The moderator cleared his throat. "Taking off from that, it does seem that we are unfairly targetting Jaggannath ji, we have given him a good opportunity to defend himself. Seema ji, lets get back to what we were talking about before we got into this," he said looking at her. "The National Insurance Policy that you have proposed adds twelve thousand rupees a year. For a nation whose per capita income is barely 800 dollars, that is a significant proportion. How can you justify forcing such an expensive scheme upon citizens of a country whose 20% citizens are still below the national poverty and one in ten citizens earns less than two dollars a day."
"Yes, you are right, the Per Capita is 800 dollars a year. But that's not purchasing-power adjusted. Adjusted for how much we can buy, our Capita is actually about three thousand dollars. Now, twelve-to-fifteen thousand rupees might seem like a lot, but it's about half of one's monthly income. Additionally, the scheme is designed to protect exactly the sort of people you mention -- the extremely poor who cannot afford to meet the basic necessities of life. Those who can afford to pay for the scheme, and the rest are provided basic necessities. The more you earn, the more you have to pay -- so it's not like everyone is paying the fifteen thousands. When even the extreme poor are given basic means of living, they can pay more attention to education, and improving themselves, and so forth. This also means that they wouldn't have to have their young kids to work in their farms or at homes, so we are also investing in the future," she said, matter-of-factly.
"Some are saying," the moderator said, nodding at Jaggannath ji," such as Jaggannath ji's party, for example, that this is not a good idea. It's being said that the scheme is going to make people lazy and less likely to work. After all, if the government is going to take care of all of everyone's needs, wouldn't everyone just stay at home at live on the government money," he asked, looking at the papers he had in front of him.
"If people don't get their two meals a day and a roof above their head, they die. Getting food to survive, and room to warm yourself is not luxury -- it's treating people like human beings instead of goats and sheep. Food and Roof -- that's what the scheme provides, not luxuries to make people lazy. We're in the 21st century, and we cannot allow our people to have to live like animals. We have to have basic human compassion, and support the basic necessities of our countrymen. What I don't understand is, what is their plan to support the very poor persons? Do they really plan to let them die?," said Seema, with strong resolute, looking at Jaggannath ji.
"It is our belief that -- it is our belief --that our brothers and sisters don't need free donated money. What they really need is just an opportunity to Work to Make a Living. As we say, all people want is the "Garii Khaana Deu" mentality. Now, of course we want people to have a good standard of living. But the way to do that would be by giving them ample oppurtinies to find and get jobs, not throw money at them like beggars. Seema ji-- please let me-- Seema ji let me complete my part -- let me defend myself, like you were saying before -- so their proposed scheme will not provide enough opportunities for work. It does not increase their standard for living -- it just gives them a survival, and reduces their expectation from the government. We believe the less fortunate public should be given a good, safe, stable environment -- to find jobs and create business environments. We need to support our farmers to increase their productivity, encourage scientific farming, get more people working. We oppose the National Insurance Program because it detracts from these aims, and rather makes implementing such schemes more complicated. People will start thinking : well we're already giving a large percentage of our income to the poor people, do we have to to give them free jobs too? We are not comfortable with the social dynamics it would lead to. We don't want the extreme poor to just survive, we want to put them on an upward trajectory to happiness and prosperity," he said, running out of breath.
Seema laughed. "Seema ji, he says your plan does not actually empower the people you're trying to help. So why does your proposal not encourage the poor to have a good living and put them on an upward trajectory, but instead satiate them with just a basic needs? Would this not be a way to satisfy the minimum for the votes, without leading to long-term benefits for the country," the moderator asked, shuffling around his notes. He was writing furiously now.
"If you listened to Jaggannath ji, you would think everyone is a millionaire businesman lacking only the right environment. The truth is, most people need a safety of basic needs met before they can even think of reaching higher up. A hungry man doesn't think about how to double his income in six months, or his balance sheets and suppliers or promotions or whatever. He cares about where his next meal is coming from. We are completely for allowing people to setup businesses in a healthy business environment. But we think hungry people want food more than profits and losses, and that people with their stomachs full of warm food and a warm bed to sit on are much better workers and businessmen," she said, with a bit of irritation.
"Sudha ji, you want to add to this," the moderator asked.
She smiled. "The conversation has ended before I had my chance. I think Seema has already said everything that is to be said. We don't agree a hundred percent in the policies, and there are some points that I agree with Jaggannath ji too in this regards, but everything's been said in this regard. I have nothing to add," she said, weakly.
"You didn't get a lot of chance to speak today -- there was a lot of time spent on Jaggannath ji's issues. When you're here the next time, I'll make sure you get to speak for today too," said the moderator genially, nodding at Sudha.
Interrupted one
[NaNoWriMo 12]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"No! Let me finish-- let me fini--", Riski Ghosh blurted.
"--that is absolutely, categorically, completely wrong. What you are saying is outright fabricated lies, and there is no proof --", Jagannath ji insisted.
"--Let me complete, I am not suggesting your party -- no no, just let me say that-- your party did not fix the electi--elections--" Riski tried.
"--why is there proof that their party paid significant amount of money to voters in exchange of vote-- buying votes-- are we buying votes-- are we down to this--" Raul shouted into the mix, cutting Riski.
"...something happened, but but fixing elections was--was-- let me finish please Jagannath ji, jaggann-ji, not blaming-- personally-- but you--you cannot-- no let me," Riski said.
Raul began when Riski was in the middle of his sentence... "...we're not blaming Jaggannath ji personally-- but we have to agree there were issues -- no not you, not accusing you -- but miscreants -- someone wrong-- something illegal-- you have to agree that -- no no you cannot disagree with the facts-- sure--"
"--baseless. Shameless, shameless tactics to embarrass-- shameless to -- it is clearly illegal-- and we have verified it was not anyone from our central-- no no it wasn't us-- we didn't do it, why are we treating the media as the judiciary -- there is a legal system-- the trial by media is not-- no no, nothing absolutely nothing-- this is unhealthy for -- agree something happened, not our involvement --- not good for democracy --" blared Jagannath ji.
The moderator had given up. He had lost control of the conversation and there was no taking it back. I am more professional that this, he thought to himself. He had to act. It wouldn't look good if he let a free-for-all shouting match happen under his moderation. At least, he thought, the audience is amused. Or entertained anyway. He didn't know if it was worth trying to outshout everyone else. He decided to join in.
"So what you are saying is, so what you are saying is-- that no one in your party had -- no one of the party had any-- any involvement-- in the bribing scheme? Could you sign on that? Jaggannath jii-- Jagga- Jii could you sign on your -- on your claim that -- sign that your party was uninvolved? Are you -- how much confidence do you have? Responsibility, who would take the responsibility if that was -- was discovered to be true," he went in, trying to shout above everyone else, looking at Jaggannath.
Raul had heard the moderator. He figured pinning Jaggannath ji in that particular corner would be a good idea. He picked up the sheet of paper he was writing his notes on. "Can you, Jaggannath ji, can you -- can you -- can you sign on this paper that absolutely -- that no one from your party was -- can you sign? Are you confident tha--" Raul shouted, facing Jagannath ji, waving the empty side of the sheet at Jaggannath ji.
"--our central committee has verified-- verified -- that our cadres were not involved. Miscreants -- miscreants -- claiming to be our party -- plants, plants from other parties -- could be -- no I cannot sign it because it's a trick -- this could be a trick -- can you -- can YOU sign that this is not YOUR -- maybe your cadres -- can you -- why am I the one -- not under suspicion -- sign it, sign it," Jaggannth ji fired back, waving his own empty sheet at Raul.
"--no it's not-- no no no-- not accusing -- it is that news say that your-- yes, yes I am sure -- no I wouldn't sign -- because -- because--," Raul short back.
"--please, lets stop the blame and listen-- please stop--," Riski interjected.
The moderator grew confident. He raised a finger at Riski, asked for a moment. Riski quieted down. "Gentlemen, gentlemen-- instead of accusing each other-- please-- please, Raul ji, let me ask you the question -- let me-- let me-- Jaggannath ji is right, I agree-- lets ask Raul ji a question -- Raul ji -- Raul ji!" shouted the moderator looking at him.
Raul looked at the moderator. He stopped midsentence. He nodded his head. Jaggannath ji stopped speaking after noticing no one else was talking. " So to ask you Raul ji, you agreed with my question when I asked Jaggannath ji if he would sign that his party had nothing to do the incident. Lets put this question to you, and you to, Riski ji, if you guys would sign a paper verifying that it was most definitely not one of your cadres who did that. Would you be willing to do that?" the moderator asked, looking at Raul first, and then at Riski, and back to Raul again.
"No. No, there is no guarantee. The signing of the documents is unfair, I agree. However, it is quite clear that the persons who were involved in bribing had asked to vote for his party, and were reported to have worked as his party cadres at some point, so it is only reasonable to accept some accountability from his side. That is it," Raul stated, sounding quite resigned all of a sudden.
"--agree with Raul ji. Since there are so many points pointing at his party, we just want Jagannath ji to clarify how is it that the public can trust them if their idea of of winning an election is bribing voters. If this was not their cadre, it's a lot of signs pointing at them anyway," Riski began before the moderator had a chance to speak.
The moderator looked at Jaggannath ji. "It is not the function of our party to investigate every crime and every misdeed that happens inside this country. The police and the justice and judicial system are the ones that are responsible for it, and we put our greatest trust in them. As for the fact that the signs point to our party, let me clarify that it is in no way related to our party body. If one or two of vagrants who are our party cadres did it, then it is possible. We will not attempt to protect those criminals in any way, and suggest the strongest punishment, since they are besmirching our name. We fully suggest investigation into, and legal action into this issue, and there is nothing to add to that," said Jaggannath ji calmly.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"No! Let me finish-- let me fini--", Riski Ghosh blurted.
"--that is absolutely, categorically, completely wrong. What you are saying is outright fabricated lies, and there is no proof --", Jagannath ji insisted.
"--Let me complete, I am not suggesting your party -- no no, just let me say that-- your party did not fix the electi--elections--" Riski tried.
"--why is there proof that their party paid significant amount of money to voters in exchange of vote-- buying votes-- are we buying votes-- are we down to this--" Raul shouted into the mix, cutting Riski.
"...something happened, but but fixing elections was--was-- let me finish please Jagannath ji, jaggann-ji, not blaming-- personally-- but you--you cannot-- no let me," Riski said.
Raul began when Riski was in the middle of his sentence... "...we're not blaming Jaggannath ji personally-- but we have to agree there were issues -- no not you, not accusing you -- but miscreants -- someone wrong-- something illegal-- you have to agree that -- no no you cannot disagree with the facts-- sure--"
"--baseless. Shameless, shameless tactics to embarrass-- shameless to -- it is clearly illegal-- and we have verified it was not anyone from our central-- no no it wasn't us-- we didn't do it, why are we treating the media as the judiciary -- there is a legal system-- the trial by media is not-- no no, nothing absolutely nothing-- this is unhealthy for -- agree something happened, not our involvement --- not good for democracy --" blared Jagannath ji.
The moderator had given up. He had lost control of the conversation and there was no taking it back. I am more professional that this, he thought to himself. He had to act. It wouldn't look good if he let a free-for-all shouting match happen under his moderation. At least, he thought, the audience is amused. Or entertained anyway. He didn't know if it was worth trying to outshout everyone else. He decided to join in.
"So what you are saying is, so what you are saying is-- that no one in your party had -- no one of the party had any-- any involvement-- in the bribing scheme? Could you sign on that? Jaggannath jii-- Jagga- Jii could you sign on your -- on your claim that -- sign that your party was uninvolved? Are you -- how much confidence do you have? Responsibility, who would take the responsibility if that was -- was discovered to be true," he went in, trying to shout above everyone else, looking at Jaggannath.
Raul had heard the moderator. He figured pinning Jaggannath ji in that particular corner would be a good idea. He picked up the sheet of paper he was writing his notes on. "Can you, Jaggannath ji, can you -- can you -- can you sign on this paper that absolutely -- that no one from your party was -- can you sign? Are you confident tha--" Raul shouted, facing Jagannath ji, waving the empty side of the sheet at Jaggannath ji.
"--our central committee has verified-- verified -- that our cadres were not involved. Miscreants -- miscreants -- claiming to be our party -- plants, plants from other parties -- could be -- no I cannot sign it because it's a trick -- this could be a trick -- can you -- can YOU sign that this is not YOUR -- maybe your cadres -- can you -- why am I the one -- not under suspicion -- sign it, sign it," Jaggannth ji fired back, waving his own empty sheet at Raul.
"--no it's not-- no no no-- not accusing -- it is that news say that your-- yes, yes I am sure -- no I wouldn't sign -- because -- because--," Raul short back.
"--please, lets stop the blame and listen-- please stop--," Riski interjected.
The moderator grew confident. He raised a finger at Riski, asked for a moment. Riski quieted down. "Gentlemen, gentlemen-- instead of accusing each other-- please-- please, Raul ji, let me ask you the question -- let me-- let me-- Jaggannath ji is right, I agree-- lets ask Raul ji a question -- Raul ji -- Raul ji!" shouted the moderator looking at him.
Raul looked at the moderator. He stopped midsentence. He nodded his head. Jaggannath ji stopped speaking after noticing no one else was talking. " So to ask you Raul ji, you agreed with my question when I asked Jaggannath ji if he would sign that his party had nothing to do the incident. Lets put this question to you, and you to, Riski ji, if you guys would sign a paper verifying that it was most definitely not one of your cadres who did that. Would you be willing to do that?" the moderator asked, looking at Raul first, and then at Riski, and back to Raul again.
"No. No, there is no guarantee. The signing of the documents is unfair, I agree. However, it is quite clear that the persons who were involved in bribing had asked to vote for his party, and were reported to have worked as his party cadres at some point, so it is only reasonable to accept some accountability from his side. That is it," Raul stated, sounding quite resigned all of a sudden.
"--agree with Raul ji. Since there are so many points pointing at his party, we just want Jagannath ji to clarify how is it that the public can trust them if their idea of of winning an election is bribing voters. If this was not their cadre, it's a lot of signs pointing at them anyway," Riski began before the moderator had a chance to speak.
The moderator looked at Jaggannath ji. "It is not the function of our party to investigate every crime and every misdeed that happens inside this country. The police and the justice and judicial system are the ones that are responsible for it, and we put our greatest trust in them. As for the fact that the signs point to our party, let me clarify that it is in no way related to our party body. If one or two of vagrants who are our party cadres did it, then it is possible. We will not attempt to protect those criminals in any way, and suggest the strongest punishment, since they are besmirching our name. We fully suggest investigation into, and legal action into this issue, and there is nothing to add to that," said Jaggannath ji calmly.
NaNoWriMo note to self
Note to self: Need to write 'What Raul saw in Hell'. It's not serialized with the previous passage, but comes much later, when it is more relevant to the ongoing story.
Note to readers: damn, this is more fun than I imagined I would be. I'm 15,000 words, easy, and I'm so full of ideas. I just wish I had started writing shitty novels earlier. Love it. I can call myself a novelist in 30,000 more words hurray!
Note to readers: damn, this is more fun than I imagined I would be. I'm 15,000 words, easy, and I'm so full of ideas. I just wish I had started writing shitty novels earlier. Love it. I can call myself a novelist in 30,000 more words hurray!
In hell
[NaNoWriMo Day 11]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
Raul didn't know how long he had been walking for. He didn't feel tired, and there was no measure of time or distance where he was. He didn't know if he was walking in circles.
There was a faint smell of sulfur in the air. It steadily got stronger. It got strong enough that it reminded Raul of raw mustard oil they used to massage expecting mothers and newborn infants and their mothers. The air became thick with the smell: Raul was having trouble breathing in. He was panting, though he hadn't changed his pace. The sky was now slight orange-blue colored, and the temperature was steadily rising. The terrain changed too. The flat, dark and mossy ground gave way to warm, gradual climb. The ground was covered in what seemed to Raul like dry moss. Raul could make out the texture of the dried moss on the ground by the orange glow of the sky.
Raul knew he wasn't in hell. Even if there were a hell, there was no reason for it to resemble volcanoes. He figured this was further proof that regardless of his living status, this was all going in his head. This is a dream, a dream, this is not real, he told himself. I should wake up. Wakeup wakeup, wakeup! He coughed. The smoke irritating his throat, and he felt like he was being choked by a heavy invisible hand.
The sulfur stench had gotten unbearable. Raul paused to retch. He felt like throwing up. He took in a big gulp of air from his mouth. The air tasted like oily, shiny metal. He started tearing up. He couldn't swallow. He kept walking.
The mild orange glow of the sky had turned to bright orange-red. The sky was brighter than any full moon sky he had ever seen. Far over the horizon against the bright sky he could see moving figures. He picked up his pace, despite the difficulties. He didn't want to collapse before finding someone else: he wanted the trip to have made sense.
Raul was exhausted by the time he reached the top of the mountain. He could barely breathe, he was drenched in sweat, and his mouth tasted as if he had subsisted entirely on rotten fish oil for his entire life. His legs ached as if they were penetrated by tiny knives all over. He was ready to give up. He had trouble keeping his eyes open. His hands and legs felt heavy. He couldn't walk any longer. He got down to his knees and started crawling towards the moving shapes. He couldn't muster up enough energy to look up: he crawled slowly, like a sad dog staring at the ground.
*****
He had made it. He was there. In this strange dreamscape, he had found a place with other beings. It was a pity he was not in a position to do anything about it. He had tried. He had tried to survive, he had tried to fight. The exhaustion and assault on his body had been too much though. If someone punches me, he thought, I'll die. The gods, if they are behind this, have won, he thought. I was foolish to dare to think I was beyond judgment. I can't compete, he thought, I have been shown my true worth, and now, I'll die forever. My life was pointless, and now I'm going to die a pointless death, away from everyone and everything I care about. He gave a weak sob, that sounded like dying shriek of a pained animal. He touched his forehead to the ground. I came from the soil, and now I go back, without having made any change, he sobbed. I'm dirt, fertilizer that dared to think, powerless beyond imagination. He remembered having thought of himself as an ant that bites the enemy before dying, earlier. I just want to see what's happening here, he thought. Collecting all the energy had had in his muscles, he raised up his head.
The scene was so magnificent he cried in amazement before he lost consciousness.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
Raul didn't know how long he had been walking for. He didn't feel tired, and there was no measure of time or distance where he was. He didn't know if he was walking in circles.
There was a faint smell of sulfur in the air. It steadily got stronger. It got strong enough that it reminded Raul of raw mustard oil they used to massage expecting mothers and newborn infants and their mothers. The air became thick with the smell: Raul was having trouble breathing in. He was panting, though he hadn't changed his pace. The sky was now slight orange-blue colored, and the temperature was steadily rising. The terrain changed too. The flat, dark and mossy ground gave way to warm, gradual climb. The ground was covered in what seemed to Raul like dry moss. Raul could make out the texture of the dried moss on the ground by the orange glow of the sky.
Raul knew he wasn't in hell. Even if there were a hell, there was no reason for it to resemble volcanoes. He figured this was further proof that regardless of his living status, this was all going in his head. This is a dream, a dream, this is not real, he told himself. I should wake up. Wakeup wakeup, wakeup! He coughed. The smoke irritating his throat, and he felt like he was being choked by a heavy invisible hand.
The sulfur stench had gotten unbearable. Raul paused to retch. He felt like throwing up. He took in a big gulp of air from his mouth. The air tasted like oily, shiny metal. He started tearing up. He couldn't swallow. He kept walking.
The mild orange glow of the sky had turned to bright orange-red. The sky was brighter than any full moon sky he had ever seen. Far over the horizon against the bright sky he could see moving figures. He picked up his pace, despite the difficulties. He didn't want to collapse before finding someone else: he wanted the trip to have made sense.
Raul was exhausted by the time he reached the top of the mountain. He could barely breathe, he was drenched in sweat, and his mouth tasted as if he had subsisted entirely on rotten fish oil for his entire life. His legs ached as if they were penetrated by tiny knives all over. He was ready to give up. He had trouble keeping his eyes open. His hands and legs felt heavy. He couldn't walk any longer. He got down to his knees and started crawling towards the moving shapes. He couldn't muster up enough energy to look up: he crawled slowly, like a sad dog staring at the ground.
*****
He had made it. He was there. In this strange dreamscape, he had found a place with other beings. It was a pity he was not in a position to do anything about it. He had tried. He had tried to survive, he had tried to fight. The exhaustion and assault on his body had been too much though. If someone punches me, he thought, I'll die. The gods, if they are behind this, have won, he thought. I was foolish to dare to think I was beyond judgment. I can't compete, he thought, I have been shown my true worth, and now, I'll die forever. My life was pointless, and now I'm going to die a pointless death, away from everyone and everything I care about. He gave a weak sob, that sounded like dying shriek of a pained animal. He touched his forehead to the ground. I came from the soil, and now I go back, without having made any change, he sobbed. I'm dirt, fertilizer that dared to think, powerless beyond imagination. He remembered having thought of himself as an ant that bites the enemy before dying, earlier. I just want to see what's happening here, he thought. Collecting all the energy had had in his muscles, he raised up his head.
The scene was so magnificent he cried in amazement before he lost consciousness.
Introduction to hell
[NaNoWriMo Day 10]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
It was dark everywhere. Raul was cold. He rubbed his palms against his arms to stay warm. It didn't help. He was shivering violently, verbalizing the shivers.
"Dai," asked a little girl who he handn't noticed before. "Dai, did it hurt to die? Does it hurt when you are about to die? Would you have cried because of the pain, if you could have?" she asked him. He hadn't noticed, but she was bawling -- her cheeks were red, her eyes drenched in tears, her hair loose and messy. She had been crying for a long time.
"It's okay, it's okay, everything will be fine. Nothing will happen," he tried comforting her. Wait, what did she mean when she asked how dying felt like? He looked around. This wasn't any place he had been to before. There was a thick grey fog everywhere -- he could barely see his feet, and he didn't know what he was standing on.
"Oh shit shit shit, bad dream, bad dream. Have to wake up, have to wake up, this is not real, this is not real," Raul told himself. He had moved away from the girl: she was sitting on the ground, playing with large blocks, and still sobbing loudly. "You left without telling anyone, everyone was crying so much. Did you know you were going to die? How did it feel to die," she asked again.
Raul couldn't control. He burst into tears. Just a dream, just a dream, he kept reminded himself, while sobbing. He stopped to breathe in a lungful of air, and sobbed louder. He wiped his nose with his right arm, and covered his face between his hands and wept. This is just a dream, this is just a very bad dream, I am going to wake anytime now, he reminded himself, as he kept crying. He sat down. The ground was soft and cool, like a thick carpet of just-tried moss. He paused. He swallowed. He looked around. It was dark and cold, and the girl was gone now. He looked at the sky, and screamed, till his voice broke. He was tired. He kept crying.
He got thirsty. He needed water. He had to go somewhere. Even if he was dead -- he reminded this was a dream, he should try waking himself up -- he would still need water. He got up, and closed his eyes. He spun around till he got dizzy. He started walking as straight as he could, while keeping his eyes shut. I don't want to make a choice, he thought. I didn't choose to come hair, I wasn't asked. I won't choose anything logically, I won't be responsible for anything. This is not my world. I don't belong here. They may have brought me, but I won't comply. I will fight, until I disappear for good, he thought. Even if this is a dream, he told himself, I am going to win. He kept walking, eyes closed.
He came across a shallow stream of pitch-black liquid. He carefully touched it -- it felt like water; and tasted it -- it tasted like water. He scooped in a few handfuls, and drank. The water was cold, but not more than the air. He crossed the stream, maintaning the straight path he had been walking. His pants and shoes had dried quite fast, he noticed. That's because I'm in a bad dream and nothing matters, he reminded himself. The thought didn't particularly help with the cold. He kept walking.
I'm not dead, he told himself. I can't be. The last thing he remembered was coming back home drunk from the meeting. He must have gone to bed and slept. He couldn't be dead. Even if he were dead, it would be a strange place to be in, he considered. Why would the human mind waste so much energy to create such imagery and hallucinations when it should be using up energy in more important tasks, he asked himself. Dying is swift, not this bullshit, he told himself. But what if, a different part of his brain asked, I'm actually dying, and these are deathbed delusions of a pre-mortem mind. Like Mullohand Drive, but more boring.
More boring. More boring. Raul thought for a bit. If someone were dying, their dreams would in fact be simple and boring. The brain is trying to preserve its sanity, hoping for a miracle to revive itself, so it's distracting the conscious with these images. Since it can't afford a full-color bollywood song-and-dance drama with interesting storyline, it's cheaping out by presenting a low-resolution environment. Like this one. Where everything is black and grey, and nothing interesting is happening. Because my body doesn't have the energy or blood or whatever to be able to generate such complex thoughts. Shit, shit, shit, Raul thought. I really hope I'm not dying. I'm not ready to die yet.
He stopped short. So what if he _were_ dying. He had had a good, not unhappy life. He hadn't had a wife or a child, but he hadn't really wanted to anyway. Childhood had been good, college and later years in America had been great, and the years back in Nepal hadn't been terrible. It was unfortunate he was just starting a new life and a new career, but they hadn't been part of the plan anyway. Suddenly Raul felt his heart weighed down by a heave stone. His parents. And siblings. And extended family. They would lose it. They had just only started counting on him again, and it would be all for nothing. Shit, shit shit, he thought to himself, I really hope it doesn't look like suicide or something stupid. Dying because of alcohol poisoning or related choking would be embarrassing, but it would absolutely kill his parents.
"Huh," Raul told himself, "If this is all a dream, and I somehow make it out alive, I'm going to make sure my death is going to be a respectable one." He would rather become a martyr, or even die in a plane crash or car crash, rather than die a pathetic loser's death. Area man chokes up on his own godfucking drunk dammit vomit, dies, neighbors notice after thirteen days of the smell of rotting flesh. That would be bad. Somehow, the fear that he was dead had gone away from Raul, to be replaced by the fear of having died in an embarrassing manner.
"HEYY! HEYYY!" shouted Raul, to no one. He turned around, and shouted again. He looked at the sky, and shouted a few times at it. If the gods or demigods show up, he told himself, readying, I'm going to punch them; fight them. He considered that for a moment. They'd have tridents and bolts of light and what not: he'd be an inconsequential bacterium preparing for a spar against an incoming nuclear missile. No, I'm going to put up a fight, he thought. If one of those tiny dots of ants can cause pain before they die, he could surely put on a fair game. It didn't matter if he'd hurt them or not, he wouldn't give in to the fact that he'd just given up to those beings who had him killed for no good reason. Ohhh, he thought to himself, they are going to be so sorry for the time and moment and space they decided my time was up, he told himself, his spirits suddenly rising.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
It was dark everywhere. Raul was cold. He rubbed his palms against his arms to stay warm. It didn't help. He was shivering violently, verbalizing the shivers.
"Dai," asked a little girl who he handn't noticed before. "Dai, did it hurt to die? Does it hurt when you are about to die? Would you have cried because of the pain, if you could have?" she asked him. He hadn't noticed, but she was bawling -- her cheeks were red, her eyes drenched in tears, her hair loose and messy. She had been crying for a long time.
"It's okay, it's okay, everything will be fine. Nothing will happen," he tried comforting her. Wait, what did she mean when she asked how dying felt like? He looked around. This wasn't any place he had been to before. There was a thick grey fog everywhere -- he could barely see his feet, and he didn't know what he was standing on.
"Oh shit shit shit, bad dream, bad dream. Have to wake up, have to wake up, this is not real, this is not real," Raul told himself. He had moved away from the girl: she was sitting on the ground, playing with large blocks, and still sobbing loudly. "You left without telling anyone, everyone was crying so much. Did you know you were going to die? How did it feel to die," she asked again.
Raul couldn't control. He burst into tears. Just a dream, just a dream, he kept reminded himself, while sobbing. He stopped to breathe in a lungful of air, and sobbed louder. He wiped his nose with his right arm, and covered his face between his hands and wept. This is just a dream, this is just a very bad dream, I am going to wake anytime now, he reminded himself, as he kept crying. He sat down. The ground was soft and cool, like a thick carpet of just-tried moss. He paused. He swallowed. He looked around. It was dark and cold, and the girl was gone now. He looked at the sky, and screamed, till his voice broke. He was tired. He kept crying.
He got thirsty. He needed water. He had to go somewhere. Even if he was dead -- he reminded this was a dream, he should try waking himself up -- he would still need water. He got up, and closed his eyes. He spun around till he got dizzy. He started walking as straight as he could, while keeping his eyes shut. I don't want to make a choice, he thought. I didn't choose to come hair, I wasn't asked. I won't choose anything logically, I won't be responsible for anything. This is not my world. I don't belong here. They may have brought me, but I won't comply. I will fight, until I disappear for good, he thought. Even if this is a dream, he told himself, I am going to win. He kept walking, eyes closed.
He came across a shallow stream of pitch-black liquid. He carefully touched it -- it felt like water; and tasted it -- it tasted like water. He scooped in a few handfuls, and drank. The water was cold, but not more than the air. He crossed the stream, maintaning the straight path he had been walking. His pants and shoes had dried quite fast, he noticed. That's because I'm in a bad dream and nothing matters, he reminded himself. The thought didn't particularly help with the cold. He kept walking.
I'm not dead, he told himself. I can't be. The last thing he remembered was coming back home drunk from the meeting. He must have gone to bed and slept. He couldn't be dead. Even if he were dead, it would be a strange place to be in, he considered. Why would the human mind waste so much energy to create such imagery and hallucinations when it should be using up energy in more important tasks, he asked himself. Dying is swift, not this bullshit, he told himself. But what if, a different part of his brain asked, I'm actually dying, and these are deathbed delusions of a pre-mortem mind. Like Mullohand Drive, but more boring.
More boring. More boring. Raul thought for a bit. If someone were dying, their dreams would in fact be simple and boring. The brain is trying to preserve its sanity, hoping for a miracle to revive itself, so it's distracting the conscious with these images. Since it can't afford a full-color bollywood song-and-dance drama with interesting storyline, it's cheaping out by presenting a low-resolution environment. Like this one. Where everything is black and grey, and nothing interesting is happening. Because my body doesn't have the energy or blood or whatever to be able to generate such complex thoughts. Shit, shit, shit, Raul thought. I really hope I'm not dying. I'm not ready to die yet.
He stopped short. So what if he _were_ dying. He had had a good, not unhappy life. He hadn't had a wife or a child, but he hadn't really wanted to anyway. Childhood had been good, college and later years in America had been great, and the years back in Nepal hadn't been terrible. It was unfortunate he was just starting a new life and a new career, but they hadn't been part of the plan anyway. Suddenly Raul felt his heart weighed down by a heave stone. His parents. And siblings. And extended family. They would lose it. They had just only started counting on him again, and it would be all for nothing. Shit, shit shit, he thought to himself, I really hope it doesn't look like suicide or something stupid. Dying because of alcohol poisoning or related choking would be embarrassing, but it would absolutely kill his parents.
"Huh," Raul told himself, "If this is all a dream, and I somehow make it out alive, I'm going to make sure my death is going to be a respectable one." He would rather become a martyr, or even die in a plane crash or car crash, rather than die a pathetic loser's death. Area man chokes up on his own godfucking drunk dammit vomit, dies, neighbors notice after thirteen days of the smell of rotting flesh. That would be bad. Somehow, the fear that he was dead had gone away from Raul, to be replaced by the fear of having died in an embarrassing manner.
"HEYY! HEYYY!" shouted Raul, to no one. He turned around, and shouted again. He looked at the sky, and shouted a few times at it. If the gods or demigods show up, he told himself, readying, I'm going to punch them; fight them. He considered that for a moment. They'd have tridents and bolts of light and what not: he'd be an inconsequential bacterium preparing for a spar against an incoming nuclear missile. No, I'm going to put up a fight, he thought. If one of those tiny dots of ants can cause pain before they die, he could surely put on a fair game. It didn't matter if he'd hurt them or not, he wouldn't give in to the fact that he'd just given up to those beings who had him killed for no good reason. Ohhh, he thought to himself, they are going to be so sorry for the time and moment and space they decided my time was up, he told himself, his spirits suddenly rising.
First interview over
[NaNoWriMo Day 9]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Welcome Back! This is Kasthmandap Television, and you are watching Politicians and Politics. I'm talking to Mr. Raul Adhikary, who is running for the member of the upper house from Kathmandu Valley. Before the break, Mr. Adhikary was telling us about the issues caused due to differences in social attitudes and what the law states," the presenter said. "Now, you were saying before we left that creating laws is by itself not enough, and you need institutions, besides the court system and the police, to make sure they are implemented. I want to ask you: do we not have these institutions now? How different would we see things with you in power? And if we do not have these institutions, why do we not have these, and how do you plan to over come these issues," the man asked, looking straight into Raul.
"As I alluded to earlier," Rahul started, and cleared his throat. He took a sip from the glass of water in front of him. "As I stated earlier, the institutions are the ones that are already ther at a local level, that need to be empowered more. We have schools, we have a cadre of very well-trained health workers, and maternal workers. Teachers are government employees, but students are also great resources. In addition to that, all our political parties have significant presence in each and every small town. If social changes were really desired, and the intention to implement laws really strong, we only have to empower those institutions more. Make sure students and teachers understand that such and such practice is wrong, encourage them to encourage certain behavior by giving out scholarships, for example. When they go on regular runs, encourage the health workers to talk about issues. Work with non-profits, that we have so many of, so that they favor the implementation of their programs more towards areas that are in greater compliance. And currently, the issue seems to be that the government seems to consider implementing the laws and getting the news out in national and international media enough of an achievement. Actually following through passing laws is the hard part, but that's also were the real rewards are. So, to answer your question directly, I propose empowering existing structures greater to align with the government's implementation of rules. Why has that not happened? Because law passing is considered an end to itself, and there does not seem enough political willingness to convince the local institutions to be shareholders in the implementation. It's not the police or the government that is the law: each and every citizen, organization, local institution has a significant part to play, and I plan to get it very much clear, which governments to date have not looked at," Raul said. He had settled into quite a pace by now. He glanced at the clock behind the main camera. Forty-five minutes, it had been forty five minutes. For a first television interview, this had been going particularly well.
"Now you're talking about empowering local institutions more as a part of legal implementation. Isn't this against the spirit of decentralization and the federal structure that has been recently created? To put it in different words, isn't what you're proposing the job of local governments? If the central government were to participate in such tasks, what would be the mandate of local governments," he asked. Raul wondered if it was him, or if the interview was coming to an end, but the questions seemed to be getting simpler, and the interviewer appeared to be more listless.
"That's true, the country has gone federal, with the intention of empowering political structures at the local level greater. That only makes our task simple in the future. Regardless of left or right, it is the duty of all the political institutions in the nation to follow and implement the national laws. So we will have independent political units who understand the local situation better, helping us in our implementation tasks. Additionally, let me add one more point..." Raul hurried, as the interviewer seemed intent on asking the follow-up question, "...additionally, what we have now is political decentralization, and that is great. But the institutions I'm talking about empowering aren't necessarily political units -- non-profits, for example, or health workers, and so forth, so it would involve empowering other non-political units too. We want to get as close to the people, and convince them that the laws are meant to protect everyone, and everyone who can help us do that is even better. It would be exactly in the spirit of decentralization, in fact!"
The presenter nodded. "Does this mean that you consider local political structures, even if they are not from your party, to be compliant to the requirements of the central government," he asked, folding the paper he was holding.
"Of course, all the state governments and local governments are under the sovereign of the national government. They are expected to implement national laws, and the police force, and security forces exist to make sure that they happen. They are allowed to draft and pass laws in addition to the existing federal regulations, but they cannot be in conflict with existing national rules, " he said. This was too easy. He shouldn't have told the presenter to go easy on him. This had been a chance to be seen on the screen, but he'd just stated the obvious political facts -- given no real reason for prospective voters to look at him. He would have to shake up more interesting drama for the next interview.
The presenter sighed. "We have time for about one final question and a quick response," he said. "Ten years from today, what difference would people find if people elected you than if did not elect you?"
"Better implementation of existing rules, a move forward a more equitable society, and a more rule-based and institution-based society. The cult of personality would be over, and we would have robust empowered institutions, that could survive even bad partners. People could count on the system more. I'm not promising Switzerland or Singapore. I'm promising a Nepal, clean, mountain, cool, and rich in language and culture as we have now, but more organized and with trustworthy people. An obvious result of empowered institutions is lesser corruption, and better business environment. I truly believe these are not difficult to achieve, just need a re-calibration in our trajectory, and I will bring out those re-calibrations faster," he said, ending with a big gulp of air.
The presenter smiled, noticing the inexperienced post-interview gasp. "That was Raul Adhikary, who is running for the upper house membership this election. If you agreed with his views and live in Kathmandu, you should consider voting for him. This is Basanta Rai, and you are watching Kasthmandap television. I will be back in Politics and Politicians, talking to yet another political guest. Until then, goodbye!"
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Welcome Back! This is Kasthmandap Television, and you are watching Politicians and Politics. I'm talking to Mr. Raul Adhikary, who is running for the member of the upper house from Kathmandu Valley. Before the break, Mr. Adhikary was telling us about the issues caused due to differences in social attitudes and what the law states," the presenter said. "Now, you were saying before we left that creating laws is by itself not enough, and you need institutions, besides the court system and the police, to make sure they are implemented. I want to ask you: do we not have these institutions now? How different would we see things with you in power? And if we do not have these institutions, why do we not have these, and how do you plan to over come these issues," the man asked, looking straight into Raul.
"As I alluded to earlier," Rahul started, and cleared his throat. He took a sip from the glass of water in front of him. "As I stated earlier, the institutions are the ones that are already ther at a local level, that need to be empowered more. We have schools, we have a cadre of very well-trained health workers, and maternal workers. Teachers are government employees, but students are also great resources. In addition to that, all our political parties have significant presence in each and every small town. If social changes were really desired, and the intention to implement laws really strong, we only have to empower those institutions more. Make sure students and teachers understand that such and such practice is wrong, encourage them to encourage certain behavior by giving out scholarships, for example. When they go on regular runs, encourage the health workers to talk about issues. Work with non-profits, that we have so many of, so that they favor the implementation of their programs more towards areas that are in greater compliance. And currently, the issue seems to be that the government seems to consider implementing the laws and getting the news out in national and international media enough of an achievement. Actually following through passing laws is the hard part, but that's also were the real rewards are. So, to answer your question directly, I propose empowering existing structures greater to align with the government's implementation of rules. Why has that not happened? Because law passing is considered an end to itself, and there does not seem enough political willingness to convince the local institutions to be shareholders in the implementation. It's not the police or the government that is the law: each and every citizen, organization, local institution has a significant part to play, and I plan to get it very much clear, which governments to date have not looked at," Raul said. He had settled into quite a pace by now. He glanced at the clock behind the main camera. Forty-five minutes, it had been forty five minutes. For a first television interview, this had been going particularly well.
"Now you're talking about empowering local institutions more as a part of legal implementation. Isn't this against the spirit of decentralization and the federal structure that has been recently created? To put it in different words, isn't what you're proposing the job of local governments? If the central government were to participate in such tasks, what would be the mandate of local governments," he asked. Raul wondered if it was him, or if the interview was coming to an end, but the questions seemed to be getting simpler, and the interviewer appeared to be more listless.
"That's true, the country has gone federal, with the intention of empowering political structures at the local level greater. That only makes our task simple in the future. Regardless of left or right, it is the duty of all the political institutions in the nation to follow and implement the national laws. So we will have independent political units who understand the local situation better, helping us in our implementation tasks. Additionally, let me add one more point..." Raul hurried, as the interviewer seemed intent on asking the follow-up question, "...additionally, what we have now is political decentralization, and that is great. But the institutions I'm talking about empowering aren't necessarily political units -- non-profits, for example, or health workers, and so forth, so it would involve empowering other non-political units too. We want to get as close to the people, and convince them that the laws are meant to protect everyone, and everyone who can help us do that is even better. It would be exactly in the spirit of decentralization, in fact!"
The presenter nodded. "Does this mean that you consider local political structures, even if they are not from your party, to be compliant to the requirements of the central government," he asked, folding the paper he was holding.
"Of course, all the state governments and local governments are under the sovereign of the national government. They are expected to implement national laws, and the police force, and security forces exist to make sure that they happen. They are allowed to draft and pass laws in addition to the existing federal regulations, but they cannot be in conflict with existing national rules, " he said. This was too easy. He shouldn't have told the presenter to go easy on him. This had been a chance to be seen on the screen, but he'd just stated the obvious political facts -- given no real reason for prospective voters to look at him. He would have to shake up more interesting drama for the next interview.
The presenter sighed. "We have time for about one final question and a quick response," he said. "Ten years from today, what difference would people find if people elected you than if did not elect you?"
"Better implementation of existing rules, a move forward a more equitable society, and a more rule-based and institution-based society. The cult of personality would be over, and we would have robust empowered institutions, that could survive even bad partners. People could count on the system more. I'm not promising Switzerland or Singapore. I'm promising a Nepal, clean, mountain, cool, and rich in language and culture as we have now, but more organized and with trustworthy people. An obvious result of empowered institutions is lesser corruption, and better business environment. I truly believe these are not difficult to achieve, just need a re-calibration in our trajectory, and I will bring out those re-calibrations faster," he said, ending with a big gulp of air.
The presenter smiled, noticing the inexperienced post-interview gasp. "That was Raul Adhikary, who is running for the upper house membership this election. If you agreed with his views and live in Kathmandu, you should consider voting for him. This is Basanta Rai, and you are watching Kasthmandap television. I will be back in Politics and Politicians, talking to yet another political guest. Until then, goodbye!"
First interview
[NaNoWriMo Day 8]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Can we move on from this please," said Raul, sounding more irritated then he had meant to. "I have already explained my position, and I am not going to budge. We can discuss on other topics, this is something I will not compromise on," he said.
"So Mr. Adhikary, isn't one of the qualities of a good leader their abilities to compromise and come to an agreement? If you don't plan on compromising on your positions, how do you plan to get anything done at all," asked the man in the dirty gray jacket.
"Yes, yes, that is true, but not for everything. There are some principled stands that are uncompromising, that no one can be moved on. Say someone comes in right now, and tells you you should give them everything you own. Would you give them that, in the name of the compromise, or would you propose that you keep 50-50? No, you would flat out reject any kind of proposal at all, because it is your belief that what belongs to you belongs to you, and you are not willing to compromise on it by handing it out willy-nilly to everyone who asks for it," Raul said. "It's just like that. Not that political discussions are like robbery, but there are positions that one cannot compromise on because they are so fundamental to one's beliefs and systems, and equal socio-political rights for women is one of those positions that I believe in," he said.
"So you're saying equal a guarantee of equal socio-political rights is one of your positions that you will not compromise on. If you win the elections, and you implement the policies you want, what happens if the society does not change according to your principles? Would you be willing to live with unchanging society, that does not want to compromise with yourself either? Or do you plan to be more harsh with how society treats your positions," he asked, looking at the sheet of paper he was holding in his right hand.
"As a leader, and as a representative, my job is to forward the needs of all my constituents, and not unfairly favor one group over another. If one group rejects the changing of historical pattern that unfairly favors them against other groups, then that is what I'm going to work with. I will make sure no one will be disadvantages, but going forward, people get a more fair treatment legally and socially. And as far as social mores not reflecting legal restrictions goes, the laws have to be updated before we can wait for the society to follow. Remember the biggest decisions we have made legally: the abolition of slavery, giving voting rights to women, the abolition of bonded labor, giving property rights to women, the abolition of child marriage, and so forth. Laws have always preceded the change in social behavior. That's what people elect persons like me for, to make laws that make our society a little better by slightly changing the behavior of everyone," Raul said, slightly panting. He paused to catch up with his breath.
"Alright. There have been instances where the laws certainly have been made, but social mores have refused to follow on with that. You gave the example of the abolishment of slavery, but let me bring some other points. Child marriage is still quite prevalent even though it's illegal; even though bonded labor is illegal, there are structures very similar to it in the the far west that are still practiced. And as you will remember, the laws regarding menustration in the far west have barely had a dent on people's behavior. How do you plan to deal with issues such as these as a representative," the presenter asked, with a slight smile for some reason.
"That is right, all the laws that were implemented to change social behavior have not been perfectly implemented, I'm glad you brought this up. The issue is, law has made significant change, that is for sure. Before, how common was child marriage? I remember seeing data on how 50-60% of rural women were married as legal minors. Now it's barely 20 percent. The extractive, exploitative practices in the far west do exist, but more as personal structures, and not as large social super-structures that had legal backing: people can technically choose to sue the alleged parties and get a judicial hearing, an option that didn't exist before. So while the laws have not completely eliminated the weaknesses inherent in our society, they certainly have checked them. As for the menstruation hut issue you mention, it is true that laws have not had expected effects on that. And I believe the solution to that is to create a carrot-and-sticks structure. People need to be encouraged to follow the rules, and made to understand that the punishments are going to be proportional. For example, no one really believes that a father is going to go to jail for making his daughter and her friends spend a few days in the hut. However, if social workers observed, and rewarded people following the laws in the concerned reason: scholarships for families, or farm animals as rewards, while the families ignoring the rules are punished socially: through religious or social institutions, that would have a big impact. So yes, you are right, barely making laws is not the end of it, a part of legislation also includes investing in institutions that will watch out for implementation. In social issues such as these, obviously the police is not the best tool, even though in extreme cases it would be a good idea. SO for example, if someone was found out to be buying and selling persons, the police would obviously be involved. Perhaps not as much in the menstruation situation, currently, but things could change. So yes, to change the society is not a matter of just changing laws, but creating supporting institutions," said Raul. He was having a hard time keep up. He had gone through all of that almost without taking a single breathe. He needed a break.
"Thank you. This is Kasthmandap Television, and you are watching Politicians and Politics. I'm talking to Mr. Raul Adhikary, who is running for the member of the upper house from Kathmandu Valley. Our conversation will continue, but after the commercial break.
"Cut! You have five minutes," shouted a set assistant.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Can we move on from this please," said Raul, sounding more irritated then he had meant to. "I have already explained my position, and I am not going to budge. We can discuss on other topics, this is something I will not compromise on," he said.
"So Mr. Adhikary, isn't one of the qualities of a good leader their abilities to compromise and come to an agreement? If you don't plan on compromising on your positions, how do you plan to get anything done at all," asked the man in the dirty gray jacket.
"Yes, yes, that is true, but not for everything. There are some principled stands that are uncompromising, that no one can be moved on. Say someone comes in right now, and tells you you should give them everything you own. Would you give them that, in the name of the compromise, or would you propose that you keep 50-50? No, you would flat out reject any kind of proposal at all, because it is your belief that what belongs to you belongs to you, and you are not willing to compromise on it by handing it out willy-nilly to everyone who asks for it," Raul said. "It's just like that. Not that political discussions are like robbery, but there are positions that one cannot compromise on because they are so fundamental to one's beliefs and systems, and equal socio-political rights for women is one of those positions that I believe in," he said.
"So you're saying equal a guarantee of equal socio-political rights is one of your positions that you will not compromise on. If you win the elections, and you implement the policies you want, what happens if the society does not change according to your principles? Would you be willing to live with unchanging society, that does not want to compromise with yourself either? Or do you plan to be more harsh with how society treats your positions," he asked, looking at the sheet of paper he was holding in his right hand.
"As a leader, and as a representative, my job is to forward the needs of all my constituents, and not unfairly favor one group over another. If one group rejects the changing of historical pattern that unfairly favors them against other groups, then that is what I'm going to work with. I will make sure no one will be disadvantages, but going forward, people get a more fair treatment legally and socially. And as far as social mores not reflecting legal restrictions goes, the laws have to be updated before we can wait for the society to follow. Remember the biggest decisions we have made legally: the abolition of slavery, giving voting rights to women, the abolition of bonded labor, giving property rights to women, the abolition of child marriage, and so forth. Laws have always preceded the change in social behavior. That's what people elect persons like me for, to make laws that make our society a little better by slightly changing the behavior of everyone," Raul said, slightly panting. He paused to catch up with his breath.
"Alright. There have been instances where the laws certainly have been made, but social mores have refused to follow on with that. You gave the example of the abolishment of slavery, but let me bring some other points. Child marriage is still quite prevalent even though it's illegal; even though bonded labor is illegal, there are structures very similar to it in the the far west that are still practiced. And as you will remember, the laws regarding menustration in the far west have barely had a dent on people's behavior. How do you plan to deal with issues such as these as a representative," the presenter asked, with a slight smile for some reason.
"That is right, all the laws that were implemented to change social behavior have not been perfectly implemented, I'm glad you brought this up. The issue is, law has made significant change, that is for sure. Before, how common was child marriage? I remember seeing data on how 50-60% of rural women were married as legal minors. Now it's barely 20 percent. The extractive, exploitative practices in the far west do exist, but more as personal structures, and not as large social super-structures that had legal backing: people can technically choose to sue the alleged parties and get a judicial hearing, an option that didn't exist before. So while the laws have not completely eliminated the weaknesses inherent in our society, they certainly have checked them. As for the menstruation hut issue you mention, it is true that laws have not had expected effects on that. And I believe the solution to that is to create a carrot-and-sticks structure. People need to be encouraged to follow the rules, and made to understand that the punishments are going to be proportional. For example, no one really believes that a father is going to go to jail for making his daughter and her friends spend a few days in the hut. However, if social workers observed, and rewarded people following the laws in the concerned reason: scholarships for families, or farm animals as rewards, while the families ignoring the rules are punished socially: through religious or social institutions, that would have a big impact. So yes, you are right, barely making laws is not the end of it, a part of legislation also includes investing in institutions that will watch out for implementation. In social issues such as these, obviously the police is not the best tool, even though in extreme cases it would be a good idea. SO for example, if someone was found out to be buying and selling persons, the police would obviously be involved. Perhaps not as much in the menstruation situation, currently, but things could change. So yes, to change the society is not a matter of just changing laws, but creating supporting institutions," said Raul. He was having a hard time keep up. He had gone through all of that almost without taking a single breathe. He needed a break.
"Thank you. This is Kasthmandap Television, and you are watching Politicians and Politics. I'm talking to Mr. Raul Adhikary, who is running for the member of the upper house from Kathmandu Valley. Our conversation will continue, but after the commercial break.
"Cut! You have five minutes," shouted a set assistant.
At BhrikutiMandap
[NaNoWriMo Day 7]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
Raul took a big whiff of air. He smelled roasted peanuts and raw grass.
It was a lazy Tuesday morning, and Raul was strolling in BhrikutiMandap. Tuesdays morning are generally not any lazier than any other days of the week. But this was winter in Kathmandu, and this was BhrikutiMandap. The city went there to be lazy. The large field was littered with remains of roasted peanuts and oranges. The place was dotted with large circles of students from nearby campuses. The air resounded with laughter and impassioned voices. Snuggling couples were seated at the edges of the field, sharing ice cream and cotton candy.
"We used to play cricket here, as kids," Raul said, "This crowd will leave at about 2pm, and there's some time before the evening crowd comes in. We came in all the way from Baidyakhana and Anamnagar. You could hit all the sixers you heart desired, without having to sneak into other people's houses and fields. And you never needed to be afraid of breaking people's window." He laughed. "But one day, we actually broke a window, of that building with soft-serve Ice-cream parlour. The one with Softie ice-cream," he said. They were in the inner edge of the field. "Shit. Damn. Damn. Look at that, ohh maan, this is too much. Look at that! Hahahaha, shiiit! Did you see that? We did that! Twenty years ago! And they haven't fixed it yet, hahaha," Raul said, pointing at a window-pane with a broken top half on a single-storey building. "Nothing changes hai? Look at all the buildings and people, and cars, so much more people now. Houses are everywhere. But in a deeper level, nothing has changed. People are the same, culture is the same. Everything is the same. Wow." he aid. His eyes had welled up.
She grasped his hand, clasping his fingers between hers. She rubbed her cheeks against his shoulder. "I must have been five at that time. While you were playing cricket here, I was riding on goats, and taking them to herd," she said. She smiled. She gazed into nothingness. "...The village air was so cool. You could smell the flowers and the forest in the air, so fresh. Near home, you could smell dung and burned dung-wood, haha," she said, and taking in a big gulp of air. "The water was so sweet. Even now I remember that vividly. But the village has changed too. So many things have happened since," she said. There was a long pause. "Come, I'll buy you blue cotton candy," she said, dragging him. They walked in silence, their hands held tightly. She turned her head to him, and kissed his cheek. They walked in silence. He sighed. She sighed. They kept walking.
"In the summer, we would run back to our houses, and rush to take off our cloths. Boys, girls, all of us, jumping naked in the river," she said, looking across the table at him. He was staring intently at the cotton candy. She chortled. "They make such a big deal out of that now, in the city. Kids should have fun, at least," she said. "And, and...," she trailed off. He was still engrossed in the candy.
A football came rolling by. "Dai, please throw us the football," came a shouting voice from far away. Raul got up. "Just a moment, I'll show them," he said. He dribbled the ball to an imaginary opponent. After running after it for a bit, he kicked it high up in the air. The children ran to intercept the ball from the air. It landed short, right about where they had been originally. "Thaaaanks daaai," someone shouted.
He sat on the chair next to her. "You were telling the story of swimming naked in the river," he reminded her.
"Yeah. You looked like you were not feeling well. What are you thinking," she said.
"Remembering old things makes me sad. I miss the old things, and hate it that we can't go back," he said. "Also, embarrassed a bit. Swimming naked with guys, who knows where the story was goin to go," he said with a slight smirk.
"Hahaha, I didn't realize you were such a shyster. You shouldn't be embarrassed about such a small...okay I won't make you shy anymore. Besides, we were kids -- what can kids even do, you know?" she said. She looked around, and stuffed a large piece of candyy into her face. "There was a guest lecturer in college yesterday," she said, "he was really fat. How does someone gain so much weight? How much rice do you have to eat to be that heavy? Do fat people go to toilet less? I hadn't seen such a fat person before."
"Oh I think I have seen that," he said. He got up and walked around the table with his legs spread wide, as if he had a large ballon-suit on. His arms were spread apart like a low-energy zombie. "Is this how he walked? I used to be fat, and this is how I used to walk. He must have walked like this right, right," he said.
She laughed. "JPT! You're such a jokker, yaar! You know, at first you appear to be such a serious person. As in, like everyone should respect you types. But in reality, you're such an airhead. Haawaa maanche! What kind of person walks like that? JPT!" she said.
"You don't believe me, but it's really true! I used to weigh as much as a motorcycle. When I needed to check my weight, I would have to go to a mechanic, and get into the large base -- the one they use to weigh cars and motorcycles," he said, maintaining a straight face.
"Ohh really, so what would you do if you wanted to find your weight, but you didn't have a mechanic with advanced machinery," she asked, rolling her her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm really good you asked! That's a really good question, did you know that? I've told this to so many people, and they just don't put much thought into it, but clearly you've thought about this a lot, and are asking good question. So the question is a good one, and you wouldn't bee-lieeve how good the solution to that is--", he kept going.
"--seems like you're just saying random bs before you can think of something, you know--", she said.
"No no, I'll tell you now. So if I didn't have a mechanic nearby, I would go to a kabaadi's junkyard, you know places where they weigh all the Iron with huge scales, and get on those. And then the kabadis put large pieces of Iron as big as me, and that's how they knew how heavy I was. It felt like I was on a swing," he said.
"Hahaha, so you're saying you were as heavy as Iron? You're such a guffadi maan, you don't look like it, but you're suuch a guffadi, I would never have guessed. I bet you peed your pants all the time as a kid, because that's what happens to people who lie," she said punching him on his shoulder.
"Ohh, yeah, yeah, that's an entirely different story. They used to make me fill up swimming pools for the fertilizer factory, and I even got paid for that. I'll tell you that story a different day okay, because you'll respect me so much, we can't hang out all the time because it will be awkward. You know there are many benefits to lying, unlike what people generally think about liars," he said, still maintaining a straight face.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
Raul took a big whiff of air. He smelled roasted peanuts and raw grass.
It was a lazy Tuesday morning, and Raul was strolling in BhrikutiMandap. Tuesdays morning are generally not any lazier than any other days of the week. But this was winter in Kathmandu, and this was BhrikutiMandap. The city went there to be lazy. The large field was littered with remains of roasted peanuts and oranges. The place was dotted with large circles of students from nearby campuses. The air resounded with laughter and impassioned voices. Snuggling couples were seated at the edges of the field, sharing ice cream and cotton candy.
"We used to play cricket here, as kids," Raul said, "This crowd will leave at about 2pm, and there's some time before the evening crowd comes in. We came in all the way from Baidyakhana and Anamnagar. You could hit all the sixers you heart desired, without having to sneak into other people's houses and fields. And you never needed to be afraid of breaking people's window." He laughed. "But one day, we actually broke a window, of that building with soft-serve Ice-cream parlour. The one with Softie ice-cream," he said. They were in the inner edge of the field. "Shit. Damn. Damn. Look at that, ohh maan, this is too much. Look at that! Hahahaha, shiiit! Did you see that? We did that! Twenty years ago! And they haven't fixed it yet, hahaha," Raul said, pointing at a window-pane with a broken top half on a single-storey building. "Nothing changes hai? Look at all the buildings and people, and cars, so much more people now. Houses are everywhere. But in a deeper level, nothing has changed. People are the same, culture is the same. Everything is the same. Wow." he aid. His eyes had welled up.
She grasped his hand, clasping his fingers between hers. She rubbed her cheeks against his shoulder. "I must have been five at that time. While you were playing cricket here, I was riding on goats, and taking them to herd," she said. She smiled. She gazed into nothingness. "...The village air was so cool. You could smell the flowers and the forest in the air, so fresh. Near home, you could smell dung and burned dung-wood, haha," she said, and taking in a big gulp of air. "The water was so sweet. Even now I remember that vividly. But the village has changed too. So many things have happened since," she said. There was a long pause. "Come, I'll buy you blue cotton candy," she said, dragging him. They walked in silence, their hands held tightly. She turned her head to him, and kissed his cheek. They walked in silence. He sighed. She sighed. They kept walking.
"In the summer, we would run back to our houses, and rush to take off our cloths. Boys, girls, all of us, jumping naked in the river," she said, looking across the table at him. He was staring intently at the cotton candy. She chortled. "They make such a big deal out of that now, in the city. Kids should have fun, at least," she said. "And, and...," she trailed off. He was still engrossed in the candy.
A football came rolling by. "Dai, please throw us the football," came a shouting voice from far away. Raul got up. "Just a moment, I'll show them," he said. He dribbled the ball to an imaginary opponent. After running after it for a bit, he kicked it high up in the air. The children ran to intercept the ball from the air. It landed short, right about where they had been originally. "Thaaaanks daaai," someone shouted.
He sat on the chair next to her. "You were telling the story of swimming naked in the river," he reminded her.
"Yeah. You looked like you were not feeling well. What are you thinking," she said.
"Remembering old things makes me sad. I miss the old things, and hate it that we can't go back," he said. "Also, embarrassed a bit. Swimming naked with guys, who knows where the story was goin to go," he said with a slight smirk.
"Hahaha, I didn't realize you were such a shyster. You shouldn't be embarrassed about such a small...okay I won't make you shy anymore. Besides, we were kids -- what can kids even do, you know?" she said. She looked around, and stuffed a large piece of candyy into her face. "There was a guest lecturer in college yesterday," she said, "he was really fat. How does someone gain so much weight? How much rice do you have to eat to be that heavy? Do fat people go to toilet less? I hadn't seen such a fat person before."
"Oh I think I have seen that," he said. He got up and walked around the table with his legs spread wide, as if he had a large ballon-suit on. His arms were spread apart like a low-energy zombie. "Is this how he walked? I used to be fat, and this is how I used to walk. He must have walked like this right, right," he said.
She laughed. "JPT! You're such a jokker, yaar! You know, at first you appear to be such a serious person. As in, like everyone should respect you types. But in reality, you're such an airhead. Haawaa maanche! What kind of person walks like that? JPT!" she said.
"You don't believe me, but it's really true! I used to weigh as much as a motorcycle. When I needed to check my weight, I would have to go to a mechanic, and get into the large base -- the one they use to weigh cars and motorcycles," he said, maintaining a straight face.
"Ohh really, so what would you do if you wanted to find your weight, but you didn't have a mechanic with advanced machinery," she asked, rolling her her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm really good you asked! That's a really good question, did you know that? I've told this to so many people, and they just don't put much thought into it, but clearly you've thought about this a lot, and are asking good question. So the question is a good one, and you wouldn't bee-lieeve how good the solution to that is--", he kept going.
"--seems like you're just saying random bs before you can think of something, you know--", she said.
"No no, I'll tell you now. So if I didn't have a mechanic nearby, I would go to a kabaadi's junkyard, you know places where they weigh all the Iron with huge scales, and get on those. And then the kabadis put large pieces of Iron as big as me, and that's how they knew how heavy I was. It felt like I was on a swing," he said.
"Hahaha, so you're saying you were as heavy as Iron? You're such a guffadi maan, you don't look like it, but you're suuch a guffadi, I would never have guessed. I bet you peed your pants all the time as a kid, because that's what happens to people who lie," she said punching him on his shoulder.
"Ohh, yeah, yeah, that's an entirely different story. They used to make me fill up swimming pools for the fertilizer factory, and I even got paid for that. I'll tell you that story a different day okay, because you'll respect me so much, we can't hang out all the time because it will be awkward. You know there are many benefits to lying, unlike what people generally think about liars," he said, still maintaining a straight face.
Still at the restaurant
[NaNoWriMo Day 6]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Should I bring the bill, dai," the waitress Raul had been looking at Raul asked, shaking him out from his reverie.
"No no, not now, I'm waiting for friends. I'm probably going to be here till quite late," he said, "Oh, and you don't need to call me dai."
"Ohh. Okay. What should I call you then? Should I call your Sir? Everyone who comes here likes being called Sir," she said raising her eyebrows.
"It hasn't been much since you started working here hai? I've always been coming here, and I hadn't seen you before," he said, suddenly.
"About two months. Studying Master's is too expensive, so I had to find a way to pay for it," she said.
"That's very good. Hardworking for a degree. I'm glad! What where are you studying?" he said.
"I'm doing an MBA. At KUSOM. I should go now yeah? They might shout at me," she said.
"Oh, okay. My name's Raul. You should call me Raul, I come here all the time. Would it be difficult if I asked for your number?" he said.
She smiled. "Do you have facebook?" she said.
"Call me timi. I'm not that much older than you are," he said.
"They say all the men who tease the servers here are married men with children," she said, puffing her cheeks.
"Add me on Facebook. Here, add yourself on my Facebook," he said, handing her his phone. "You'll find out if I'm married or not that way," he said. "And besides, I haven't even said anything yet, so at this point you don't even need to know if you need to find out if I'm unmarried," he said, with a wink, just as she was handing back his phone.
"Message me nah. I should go now, customers are going to get mad," she said stepping back.
"I'll message, we'll talk later hai?" he said.
"We'll see," she said, smiling, as she headed to the kitchen.
Raul checked his phone. Her profile was mostly empty. The only photos she had were of her in the village, with her family and the family goats. Her father with his white-and-black local dress, her mother's with her large nose ring and earrings, both unsure where to look. The goats were staring intently at the camera, almost in a creepy way. In a photo taken more recently, she stood with her mother's sister, her aunt with large sunglasses, staring outside the frame while she held her hands straight stiff, her palms grasped together into a two-hand fist.
Raul ordered another quarter and bucket of ice. It was ten. Any minute now, he thought. The server was putting on her casual cloths at the reception. She looked at him, smiled, and waved. Raul gestured that he'd get her on the phone. She gave him a thumbs up, waved again, and headed out. I'm drunk, Raul said to himelf, I'm drunk, I don't know what I want, and oh god, I don't want to get myself into the troubles again. He liked her, though. She was good-looking, and clearly not pretentious, intelligent, obviously hard-working. He had known people who had attended KUSOM, and the stuck-ups who went there expected the highest end of the payscale right out of college. She seemed down to earth. She was studying with the stuck-ups, and willing to work as a server at a second-rate drinking establishment. That was quite something.
Something had been bothering Raul recently. He couldn't put his fingers on what it was, but seeing younger women made him irrationally anxious. He couldn't talk to them as confidently anymore. He was quite popular with women in their mid-twenties -- more popular than he had ever been. Older women -- they were more mature, and knowing: confidence was not a reasonable word to use for them because they just _knew_. Younger women were babies -- so to speak -- they were pliable and lovable, and happy and open to learn. Women in their mid-twenties were confident, but to him, seemingly without anything to back it up. And yet, they were somehow insecure. They were in a secret rush to find a man they liked before they were before a man that their families liked was forced upon them. Better a loser that I lke than a loser my mother likes. Raul snorted. It was jarring for him: they would say they weren't looking for anything serious, and then drop into a different conversation how they should probably find a man before anyone else did. So am I the man you're looking for, or am I the bedwarmer till you find him, he would wonder. He wanted to say, why don't we stop this, and you tell me exactly what you want, and we'll figure out the rest. He never dared.
Raul finished his drink in one gulp. It was time to stop. He needed to be sober to meet everyone. This was an important meeting, careerwise. There was time to find a partner, but this was a once-in-a-time opportunity. A unique combination of circumstances had led to this opening, and anything similar was unlikely to come by again. There is no hurry, he thought to himself. Besides, how great would it be if I got married officially as the Prime Minister. That had been Raul's most secret and greatest desires since he had been back for good. Love, power, intrigue: it would be an incredible event. He would get gifts from Kings and Presidents, and he would have a personal connection to any country that mattered. Raul was surprised he was thinking these thoughts. He needed to stop. They weren't supposed to pop into his head before important meetings. They were to be suppressed in the deepest depths of his psyche till the end. It would make a wrong impression otherwise. I need to sober up, he thought. He ordered two bottles of mineral water and two orders of pork sausages. Pork sausages sobered him up.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Should I bring the bill, dai," the waitress Raul had been looking at Raul asked, shaking him out from his reverie.
"No no, not now, I'm waiting for friends. I'm probably going to be here till quite late," he said, "Oh, and you don't need to call me dai."
"Ohh. Okay. What should I call you then? Should I call your Sir? Everyone who comes here likes being called Sir," she said raising her eyebrows.
"It hasn't been much since you started working here hai? I've always been coming here, and I hadn't seen you before," he said, suddenly.
"About two months. Studying Master's is too expensive, so I had to find a way to pay for it," she said.
"That's very good. Hardworking for a degree. I'm glad! What where are you studying?" he said.
"I'm doing an MBA. At KUSOM. I should go now yeah? They might shout at me," she said.
"Oh, okay. My name's Raul. You should call me Raul, I come here all the time. Would it be difficult if I asked for your number?" he said.
She smiled. "Do you have facebook?" she said.
"Call me timi. I'm not that much older than you are," he said.
"They say all the men who tease the servers here are married men with children," she said, puffing her cheeks.
"Add me on Facebook. Here, add yourself on my Facebook," he said, handing her his phone. "You'll find out if I'm married or not that way," he said. "And besides, I haven't even said anything yet, so at this point you don't even need to know if you need to find out if I'm unmarried," he said, with a wink, just as she was handing back his phone.
"Message me nah. I should go now, customers are going to get mad," she said stepping back.
"I'll message, we'll talk later hai?" he said.
"We'll see," she said, smiling, as she headed to the kitchen.
Raul checked his phone. Her profile was mostly empty. The only photos she had were of her in the village, with her family and the family goats. Her father with his white-and-black local dress, her mother's with her large nose ring and earrings, both unsure where to look. The goats were staring intently at the camera, almost in a creepy way. In a photo taken more recently, she stood with her mother's sister, her aunt with large sunglasses, staring outside the frame while she held her hands straight stiff, her palms grasped together into a two-hand fist.
Raul ordered another quarter and bucket of ice. It was ten. Any minute now, he thought. The server was putting on her casual cloths at the reception. She looked at him, smiled, and waved. Raul gestured that he'd get her on the phone. She gave him a thumbs up, waved again, and headed out. I'm drunk, Raul said to himelf, I'm drunk, I don't know what I want, and oh god, I don't want to get myself into the troubles again. He liked her, though. She was good-looking, and clearly not pretentious, intelligent, obviously hard-working. He had known people who had attended KUSOM, and the stuck-ups who went there expected the highest end of the payscale right out of college. She seemed down to earth. She was studying with the stuck-ups, and willing to work as a server at a second-rate drinking establishment. That was quite something.
Something had been bothering Raul recently. He couldn't put his fingers on what it was, but seeing younger women made him irrationally anxious. He couldn't talk to them as confidently anymore. He was quite popular with women in their mid-twenties -- more popular than he had ever been. Older women -- they were more mature, and knowing: confidence was not a reasonable word to use for them because they just _knew_. Younger women were babies -- so to speak -- they were pliable and lovable, and happy and open to learn. Women in their mid-twenties were confident, but to him, seemingly without anything to back it up. And yet, they were somehow insecure. They were in a secret rush to find a man they liked before they were before a man that their families liked was forced upon them. Better a loser that I lke than a loser my mother likes. Raul snorted. It was jarring for him: they would say they weren't looking for anything serious, and then drop into a different conversation how they should probably find a man before anyone else did. So am I the man you're looking for, or am I the bedwarmer till you find him, he would wonder. He wanted to say, why don't we stop this, and you tell me exactly what you want, and we'll figure out the rest. He never dared.
Raul finished his drink in one gulp. It was time to stop. He needed to be sober to meet everyone. This was an important meeting, careerwise. There was time to find a partner, but this was a once-in-a-time opportunity. A unique combination of circumstances had led to this opening, and anything similar was unlikely to come by again. There is no hurry, he thought to himself. Besides, how great would it be if I got married officially as the Prime Minister. That had been Raul's most secret and greatest desires since he had been back for good. Love, power, intrigue: it would be an incredible event. He would get gifts from Kings and Presidents, and he would have a personal connection to any country that mattered. Raul was surprised he was thinking these thoughts. He needed to stop. They weren't supposed to pop into his head before important meetings. They were to be suppressed in the deepest depths of his psyche till the end. It would make a wrong impression otherwise. I need to sober up, he thought. He ordered two bottles of mineral water and two orders of pork sausages. Pork sausages sobered him up.
At the restaurant
[NaNoWriMo Day 5]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
A dark orange-yellow glow permeated throughout the room like thick fog.
The air was thick with the smell of sharp spices. The pans in the kitchen sizzled, filling the room with jets of steams which then seeped into the dining area.
Raul could smell the rancid smell of stale cigarettes. He cleared his throat. He coughed a deep cough, like old men with thick glasses and dhaka-topis who go out on morning walks on cold foggy mornings despite being told not to by their doctor. Since he had quit smoking, he couldn't stand the stench.
He stared into his whiskey glass. The whiskey was cheap, and positively pungent. There was nothing better available, and this had been the best place for the meeting. I need to stop pinching my nose and squirming, he thought, it doesn't look professional enough. Specially in situations like these. The orange lightbulb overhead flickered. Great, he thought, now we even have the mood to go.
The fat old tv at the counter had the news on. Nakul dai was on, giving an interview. Was he balding, or was it the camera and lights that were playing tricks, Raul wondered. A former wife who he was technically not divorced to, a former mistress who demanded as much attention as when she was not former, without giving anything in return, and a wife who he was technically not very legally married to, that had to take its toll. Raul had asked once, when he was four Bourbons in, why he hadn't fixed the affairs better. He had claimed then that it was too much work, and the ex wife wouldn't agree to an amicable divorce. It's the kids, Raul, it's the kids, I spend two nights a week with her even now, and they think I'm gone for work, he said said. Him and his three women, Raul thought...at least three women. No matter how well-organized some people were, they always had obvious weaknesses. Raul wondered which of his faults was as obvious.
The snow-white glow of the television illuminated the faces of servers as they walked by the counter. Raul had noticed a server who seemed uncharacteristically chipper for the place who had been filling everyone's glasses. She had shiny black hair, a pale face, and a golden jewelry with a shiny on her nose. Raul stopped breathing. Dark red lipstick was generously put on her lips. She had a subtle layer of eyeliner on, Raul didn't realize that -- he thought she had unusually large eyes for her features. Raul wanted to find out what she was doing at such an establishment. He took a big swig of the whiskey, and sighed. He closed his eyes, took a long breath. I'm here for an important meeting, and I will attend the meeting, and go back home, and sleep comfortably, he thought. He felt tired. Probably this awful whiskey, he thought. His brain hurt. A server brought in fried brains.
He had had a hard time adjusting to local cuts of meats after returning. Brains, ears, eyes, tongues, heads, feet -- they had sounded like inventory from a cheap horror movie. Few years in, and he preferred those to American cuts. He loved fire-roasted ear that went well with the local vodka. The smokiness and crunch went well with the vodka. The meat, sprinkled with salt and red pepper powder, and lemon, was his favourite appetizer to eat with latenight drink. Fried brain was good by itself, and was a solid mean to go with beaten rice. But it didn't go well with drunken meetings. Somehow the green-ness and fattiness of the brain permeated into everything, and by the end of the night the room smelled as if a baby fed only on a lemon-and-spinach diet had thrown up. The woody smoke flavor of ears gave the air of serious people having serious conversations.
Raul realized he had been tapping his fingers on the table. He straightened himself up: he had to maintain a serious composure for the serious meeting. For all he knew, this place could be a den of spies. He could imagine the servers furtively exchanging information gleaned from overheard conversations, passing it along to the command center in the kitchen, where the cooks also doubled as spy managers. People would exchange memory cards by pretending to be strangers bumping into one another, and servers would pass information to outside by writing coded messages into bills. Hosts and hostesses would flirt with clients to steal documents, pass it onto servers who would copy them, and put them back as if nothing had happened. That could be happening. Raul knew it wasn't so because the scheme was too complicated. Intelligence gathering in Nepal was blunt. Information didn't leak because there was a clandestine undercover operation going on -- it was mostly as simple as an bribing an underpaid servant-boy to retrieve something for a few minutes until copies were made. Or plying a driver with cheap booze every night to share everything he had heard during the day. Raul had been told that the trick was in extracting beyond what to the driver was the juiciest and most salacious gossip. Everything they'd heard, interesting or not, needed to be extracted to get relevant information. The best strategy to protect yourself from spying was bribing your drivers and servants with booze (or money) before anyone else got to them. Treat them well, tip them well, and your secrets are your own, Raul had learned. Too many people had too much of an ego to treat their employees well. These are the people I can leverage over, Raul thought. Careless people, lazy people, people with egos so big they'd dwarf the Dharhara in its former glory. What they saved in money, they paid in privacy. You always pay, one way or the other. You always pay.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
A dark orange-yellow glow permeated throughout the room like thick fog.
The air was thick with the smell of sharp spices. The pans in the kitchen sizzled, filling the room with jets of steams which then seeped into the dining area.
Raul could smell the rancid smell of stale cigarettes. He cleared his throat. He coughed a deep cough, like old men with thick glasses and dhaka-topis who go out on morning walks on cold foggy mornings despite being told not to by their doctor. Since he had quit smoking, he couldn't stand the stench.
He stared into his whiskey glass. The whiskey was cheap, and positively pungent. There was nothing better available, and this had been the best place for the meeting. I need to stop pinching my nose and squirming, he thought, it doesn't look professional enough. Specially in situations like these. The orange lightbulb overhead flickered. Great, he thought, now we even have the mood to go.
The fat old tv at the counter had the news on. Nakul dai was on, giving an interview. Was he balding, or was it the camera and lights that were playing tricks, Raul wondered. A former wife who he was technically not divorced to, a former mistress who demanded as much attention as when she was not former, without giving anything in return, and a wife who he was technically not very legally married to, that had to take its toll. Raul had asked once, when he was four Bourbons in, why he hadn't fixed the affairs better. He had claimed then that it was too much work, and the ex wife wouldn't agree to an amicable divorce. It's the kids, Raul, it's the kids, I spend two nights a week with her even now, and they think I'm gone for work, he said said. Him and his three women, Raul thought...at least three women. No matter how well-organized some people were, they always had obvious weaknesses. Raul wondered which of his faults was as obvious.
The snow-white glow of the television illuminated the faces of servers as they walked by the counter. Raul had noticed a server who seemed uncharacteristically chipper for the place who had been filling everyone's glasses. She had shiny black hair, a pale face, and a golden jewelry with a shiny on her nose. Raul stopped breathing. Dark red lipstick was generously put on her lips. She had a subtle layer of eyeliner on, Raul didn't realize that -- he thought she had unusually large eyes for her features. Raul wanted to find out what she was doing at such an establishment. He took a big swig of the whiskey, and sighed. He closed his eyes, took a long breath. I'm here for an important meeting, and I will attend the meeting, and go back home, and sleep comfortably, he thought. He felt tired. Probably this awful whiskey, he thought. His brain hurt. A server brought in fried brains.
He had had a hard time adjusting to local cuts of meats after returning. Brains, ears, eyes, tongues, heads, feet -- they had sounded like inventory from a cheap horror movie. Few years in, and he preferred those to American cuts. He loved fire-roasted ear that went well with the local vodka. The smokiness and crunch went well with the vodka. The meat, sprinkled with salt and red pepper powder, and lemon, was his favourite appetizer to eat with latenight drink. Fried brain was good by itself, and was a solid mean to go with beaten rice. But it didn't go well with drunken meetings. Somehow the green-ness and fattiness of the brain permeated into everything, and by the end of the night the room smelled as if a baby fed only on a lemon-and-spinach diet had thrown up. The woody smoke flavor of ears gave the air of serious people having serious conversations.
Raul realized he had been tapping his fingers on the table. He straightened himself up: he had to maintain a serious composure for the serious meeting. For all he knew, this place could be a den of spies. He could imagine the servers furtively exchanging information gleaned from overheard conversations, passing it along to the command center in the kitchen, where the cooks also doubled as spy managers. People would exchange memory cards by pretending to be strangers bumping into one another, and servers would pass information to outside by writing coded messages into bills. Hosts and hostesses would flirt with clients to steal documents, pass it onto servers who would copy them, and put them back as if nothing had happened. That could be happening. Raul knew it wasn't so because the scheme was too complicated. Intelligence gathering in Nepal was blunt. Information didn't leak because there was a clandestine undercover operation going on -- it was mostly as simple as an bribing an underpaid servant-boy to retrieve something for a few minutes until copies were made. Or plying a driver with cheap booze every night to share everything he had heard during the day. Raul had been told that the trick was in extracting beyond what to the driver was the juiciest and most salacious gossip. Everything they'd heard, interesting or not, needed to be extracted to get relevant information. The best strategy to protect yourself from spying was bribing your drivers and servants with booze (or money) before anyone else got to them. Treat them well, tip them well, and your secrets are your own, Raul had learned. Too many people had too much of an ego to treat their employees well. These are the people I can leverage over, Raul thought. Careless people, lazy people, people with egos so big they'd dwarf the Dharhara in its former glory. What they saved in money, they paid in privacy. You always pay, one way or the other. You always pay.
Creeping
[NaNoWriMo Day 4]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Aamai, are you having a trouble sitting down well? Are you too old to to sit in a jeep," the soldier said to the middle-aged woman next to him, smirking.
"I wouldn't be your mother, you must have girls like me, you're a soldier. No, I was just thinking. Now even the soldiers are not the same as they used to. In those days, people of the army used to take initiatives and be tall and sleep. These days the soldiers are not manly, and have a big belly," she said, patting his belly, "Don't they have running in the army anymore?"
"It must have been you. You were probably a taruni too, so everyone looked like you. Now you are old, everyone looks fat and lazy. They make us run up the mountain with 25 kilos of bricks every morning, so the army hasn't changed. In those days, most of the Army's job involved wiping the King's family's butts, now we are all over the world, and foreigners appreciate how we are saving everyone. We are making you proud in the world," he said, with a hint of anger.
The woman moved her hand from his belly to his knees.
"You even have strong legs, but you don't act like like a real man," she said, squeezing his legs slightly, as if she was feeling a goat to buy in Dashain. "How did the army take such a cowardly person, even," she said, with a hint of mock in her voice.
"The army doesn't take people, people apply and get in," he said, irritably, removing her hands from his knees. "Aren't you husband and children around? What do they do, where do they live," he asked.
"Aaaa, what do you care for my husband. My old man sends money from the Gulf, and we have send our kids to boarding school in Kathmandu," she said.
"Ohh, it's been very long since he was in Nepal then. Or did he bring in a younger woman," he said.
"What is this, bhai, what is this," she said, loudly, "yeahh, it has been many years since I met my husband, but he still sends me money, and we send our children to good schools, and we eat well and live well. It is good for us, we have brought our kids well and we live a good life," she said, quickly, in a voice that suggested that she was not very comfortable with the conversation.
The soldier laughed out loudly. The woman squeezed his biceps tightly with her hands.
"Some people don't just talk straight, and talk circles. They are cowards who are not brave enough to tell people what's in their minds," she said, loudly, while still clutching his arms.
"But some people have a hard time understanding what others are trying to say. Even if others are saying things in a quite straight and clear manner, they still don't want to hear those things, and shut their ears till they hear what they want to hear," the soldier said.
"Some people shouldn't tease if they are too afraid of what it would lead too. They are too afraid to go all the way with their teases, why do they even bother, " she said, putting her other hand on his knee. "Soldiers used to impress women, whenever the army took them, the women of the village were always happy that powerful men, with gun had come. Now, they are children with weak legs," she said.
"It's not that age anymore. No one has a child with a woman at every station. Nepali Army is a modern army with professional force, and our commanders have clearly told us to act as gentleman professionals, not like the bulls of the olden ages who had to service villagers everywhere they went," he said. "People in heat should either meet their husbands, or divorce them and find boyfriends. Only those without manners bother strangers everywhere in public," he said, forcefully disentangling himself from her hands. "Please sit well by yourself, sister, I am going home, let me go in peace".
She looked dismissive. "This is a strange conversation. I have trouble sitting due to my back, and you blame me for shameful things. Watch your words," she said, with not enough conviction.
"Good, then. Now you can sit down comfortably then. Where are you coming from," he asked her.
"From the temple. Family members are spread all over, both my family and my husband's family. The first few years went by well, but as everyone ages and children get older, it's becoming older. Sometimes there's loneliness. The goddess might do something to help me. My brother had his wife in Israel, and now he has become a christian. It has been a long time since we moved down to the city, but now everything is changing, it's scary. Even without the old man in Gulf, we are doing fine with money, but he doesn't want to come back. Now we have more money than we need, but there's no society like before. Everyone is just out for themselves," she said. Her eyes were moist, her ears and cheeks blushing. She sobbed lightly.
Raul cleared his throat. "Everyone has the same problem these days. Half our village has your exact problem. Shouldn't it be the government's job to provide jobs here so our social cohesion is maintained? Our society is going to be destroyed. The only thing we had remaining was our friendliness -- every foreigner who came to Nepal said Nepalis were the friendliest people in the world. Now who will come for a selfish people who only run for money. It's not your fault, or anyone's fault. The people who should be taking actions don't because the manpowers have bribed them so deep, they won't do anything at all until each and everyone of us is depressed," he said, his voice breaking towards the end. He had made different versions of the speech often, but he still welled up. "Something needs to be done. Something needs to be done. Doing nothing is not an option anymore," he said, looking intently at every face in the face. There was deliberation to his speech. He wanted them to know that he would be the one would help them change things, without telling them.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Aamai, are you having a trouble sitting down well? Are you too old to to sit in a jeep," the soldier said to the middle-aged woman next to him, smirking.
"I wouldn't be your mother, you must have girls like me, you're a soldier. No, I was just thinking. Now even the soldiers are not the same as they used to. In those days, people of the army used to take initiatives and be tall and sleep. These days the soldiers are not manly, and have a big belly," she said, patting his belly, "Don't they have running in the army anymore?"
"It must have been you. You were probably a taruni too, so everyone looked like you. Now you are old, everyone looks fat and lazy. They make us run up the mountain with 25 kilos of bricks every morning, so the army hasn't changed. In those days, most of the Army's job involved wiping the King's family's butts, now we are all over the world, and foreigners appreciate how we are saving everyone. We are making you proud in the world," he said, with a hint of anger.
The woman moved her hand from his belly to his knees.
"You even have strong legs, but you don't act like like a real man," she said, squeezing his legs slightly, as if she was feeling a goat to buy in Dashain. "How did the army take such a cowardly person, even," she said, with a hint of mock in her voice.
"The army doesn't take people, people apply and get in," he said, irritably, removing her hands from his knees. "Aren't you husband and children around? What do they do, where do they live," he asked.
"Aaaa, what do you care for my husband. My old man sends money from the Gulf, and we have send our kids to boarding school in Kathmandu," she said.
"Ohh, it's been very long since he was in Nepal then. Or did he bring in a younger woman," he said.
"What is this, bhai, what is this," she said, loudly, "yeahh, it has been many years since I met my husband, but he still sends me money, and we send our children to good schools, and we eat well and live well. It is good for us, we have brought our kids well and we live a good life," she said, quickly, in a voice that suggested that she was not very comfortable with the conversation.
The soldier laughed out loudly. The woman squeezed his biceps tightly with her hands.
"Some people don't just talk straight, and talk circles. They are cowards who are not brave enough to tell people what's in their minds," she said, loudly, while still clutching his arms.
"But some people have a hard time understanding what others are trying to say. Even if others are saying things in a quite straight and clear manner, they still don't want to hear those things, and shut their ears till they hear what they want to hear," the soldier said.
"Some people shouldn't tease if they are too afraid of what it would lead too. They are too afraid to go all the way with their teases, why do they even bother, " she said, putting her other hand on his knee. "Soldiers used to impress women, whenever the army took them, the women of the village were always happy that powerful men, with gun had come. Now, they are children with weak legs," she said.
"It's not that age anymore. No one has a child with a woman at every station. Nepali Army is a modern army with professional force, and our commanders have clearly told us to act as gentleman professionals, not like the bulls of the olden ages who had to service villagers everywhere they went," he said. "People in heat should either meet their husbands, or divorce them and find boyfriends. Only those without manners bother strangers everywhere in public," he said, forcefully disentangling himself from her hands. "Please sit well by yourself, sister, I am going home, let me go in peace".
She looked dismissive. "This is a strange conversation. I have trouble sitting due to my back, and you blame me for shameful things. Watch your words," she said, with not enough conviction.
"Good, then. Now you can sit down comfortably then. Where are you coming from," he asked her.
"From the temple. Family members are spread all over, both my family and my husband's family. The first few years went by well, but as everyone ages and children get older, it's becoming older. Sometimes there's loneliness. The goddess might do something to help me. My brother had his wife in Israel, and now he has become a christian. It has been a long time since we moved down to the city, but now everything is changing, it's scary. Even without the old man in Gulf, we are doing fine with money, but he doesn't want to come back. Now we have more money than we need, but there's no society like before. Everyone is just out for themselves," she said. Her eyes were moist, her ears and cheeks blushing. She sobbed lightly.
Raul cleared his throat. "Everyone has the same problem these days. Half our village has your exact problem. Shouldn't it be the government's job to provide jobs here so our social cohesion is maintained? Our society is going to be destroyed. The only thing we had remaining was our friendliness -- every foreigner who came to Nepal said Nepalis were the friendliest people in the world. Now who will come for a selfish people who only run for money. It's not your fault, or anyone's fault. The people who should be taking actions don't because the manpowers have bribed them so deep, they won't do anything at all until each and everyone of us is depressed," he said, his voice breaking towards the end. He had made different versions of the speech often, but he still welled up. "Something needs to be done. Something needs to be done. Doing nothing is not an option anymore," he said, looking intently at every face in the face. There was deliberation to his speech. He wanted them to know that he would be the one would help them change things, without telling them.
...Jeep part II
[NaNoWriMo Day 3]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Oh, by the looks of it, you don't look like an extremist? Or were you one of the victims during the war," he asked, cognizant of the dangerous minefield he was heading into.
"No, no, nothing like that. I used to be a communist voter too. I voted for the united party in three elections. But once they all joined together, there wasn't anything. If they were all going to join together, what was the entire drama and the killings for. They should just have agreed to divide up the country and rob it amongst themselves, without the killings. Even till much later, I thought they were going to do something good, but they gave up on everything after joining," she said.
A skinny guy with a T-shirt and glasses on, who had been sitting quietly spoke up before everyone else. "They're saying that after unity, now they are more powerful, they can serve the country better because they won't be fighting amongst themseves to be in that," he said, his voice quivering. Raul wanted to ask him which college in Kathmandu he went to, but refrained.
The driver shot back, "NO no, it's just to trick us. If division was the problem, why did they divide to begin with? They said when they divided that it would be good for the public because there were more options. Now that they are uniting, they say it's good for the public because they aren't fighting for power. Which one's a lie, and which one's the truth, and what are we to believe? They think we are monkeys, and they can make us dance like we are in circus. They have turned the contry into a circus, I say that even though I voted for them" he said, his voice rising.
There was a sudden silece in the jeep.
"With all that, you would think at least Congressis would do something good. But they don't have time from all the robbing and scandals," said a new voice, from a man sitting next to the woman from Dolakha. "They are all the same. Only difference is if they are your thieves or our thieves, that's the only difference," he said. The vehicle burst into laughter.
"There's seems to be a lot of anger towards politicians in Nepal, right," Rahul said, quietly.
"We've been in the same place for the past seventy years, what are we to do. They say at that time China was more backward than us, and look where they are now, sending people to the moon. Even India has moved forwards. And our biggest achievement is comparing who has become the richest by robbing us," the driver said.
Raul felt tired. He had been in this very conversation had happened hundreds of times. It was all the more frustrating because he wanted to tell people that he was getting into politics too, and that he would change. He had learned not to.
Once, he had proudly segued a similar conversation into his interst in getting politics. "Now you're like one of us, but once you get drunk on power, you will be one of them too. Everyone's the same, all of them. Good people won't survive, and others turn into the same old leaders," a woman with two teenage daughters sitting next two her had told him, point blank. "I want the country to do well too, but I don't want my daughters to end up like that. This is not an honest person's place to be. Which is why I'm sending my daughters abroad, so that they can study and work an honest life. And some day, get us to migrate there too, " she had said laughing. Her daughters had watched the floor of the Tempo with great interest throughout.
"It's because of frustrations like these that people send their kids abroad. Most of you must have at least one family member working outside," Raul said, trying to turn the conversation somewhere he was more comfortable.
"Two sons and their wives and three grandchildren are outside. One lives in Australia, other one, he is in Japan now. He says it's better in America, so he is trying to go to America. It's just us old people in the house. They do come once in a year, but it's not like those days. Other peoples' children come after many years, so it's not difficult for us," the older man in Dhaka topi said.
"Oh, is America better these days? I'm trying to go out to study, but they say it's not as easy in America these days, do you know?" said the spectacled college student next to Raul.
"Khoi babu, I don't understand these things, but he said Japan is difficult, the language is hard, and good work is hard to find. In America there are more Nepalis, and you can find a job anyhow. People find jobs that pay a lot immediately after landing too, it's not like that in Japan, says my son. Young people like you must know these things more than I do. I just talk to my sons, and listen to the news, I don't know too much, " the topi-wearer replied.
Television and newspaper news had become strange, Raul had noticed. They covered either core political news, or news of Nepali diaspora. Any news beyond that was non-existent. He had tried looking into news archives to create a economic policy paper for the elections. The promulgation and implementation of even landmark bills barely got a couple of paragraphs in the Economy pages. Rather, they were covered by full-page advertisements of motorbikes, and barely-modified press-releases on the number of cars and bikes and shoes sold. Besides the ads for the consumer goods, the papers were mostly covered in pieces explaining where to go to work, or study, and how to apply, and get good SAT scores. The entire mass media was actively facilitating and encouraging people to get out of the country, for any reason.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
"Oh, by the looks of it, you don't look like an extremist? Or were you one of the victims during the war," he asked, cognizant of the dangerous minefield he was heading into.
"No, no, nothing like that. I used to be a communist voter too. I voted for the united party in three elections. But once they all joined together, there wasn't anything. If they were all going to join together, what was the entire drama and the killings for. They should just have agreed to divide up the country and rob it amongst themselves, without the killings. Even till much later, I thought they were going to do something good, but they gave up on everything after joining," she said.
A skinny guy with a T-shirt and glasses on, who had been sitting quietly spoke up before everyone else. "They're saying that after unity, now they are more powerful, they can serve the country better because they won't be fighting amongst themseves to be in that," he said, his voice quivering. Raul wanted to ask him which college in Kathmandu he went to, but refrained.
The driver shot back, "NO no, it's just to trick us. If division was the problem, why did they divide to begin with? They said when they divided that it would be good for the public because there were more options. Now that they are uniting, they say it's good for the public because they aren't fighting for power. Which one's a lie, and which one's the truth, and what are we to believe? They think we are monkeys, and they can make us dance like we are in circus. They have turned the contry into a circus, I say that even though I voted for them" he said, his voice rising.
There was a sudden silece in the jeep.
"With all that, you would think at least Congressis would do something good. But they don't have time from all the robbing and scandals," said a new voice, from a man sitting next to the woman from Dolakha. "They are all the same. Only difference is if they are your thieves or our thieves, that's the only difference," he said. The vehicle burst into laughter.
"There's seems to be a lot of anger towards politicians in Nepal, right," Rahul said, quietly.
"We've been in the same place for the past seventy years, what are we to do. They say at that time China was more backward than us, and look where they are now, sending people to the moon. Even India has moved forwards. And our biggest achievement is comparing who has become the richest by robbing us," the driver said.
Raul felt tired. He had been in this very conversation had happened hundreds of times. It was all the more frustrating because he wanted to tell people that he was getting into politics too, and that he would change. He had learned not to.
Once, he had proudly segued a similar conversation into his interst in getting politics. "Now you're like one of us, but once you get drunk on power, you will be one of them too. Everyone's the same, all of them. Good people won't survive, and others turn into the same old leaders," a woman with two teenage daughters sitting next two her had told him, point blank. "I want the country to do well too, but I don't want my daughters to end up like that. This is not an honest person's place to be. Which is why I'm sending my daughters abroad, so that they can study and work an honest life. And some day, get us to migrate there too, " she had said laughing. Her daughters had watched the floor of the Tempo with great interest throughout.
"It's because of frustrations like these that people send their kids abroad. Most of you must have at least one family member working outside," Raul said, trying to turn the conversation somewhere he was more comfortable.
"Two sons and their wives and three grandchildren are outside. One lives in Australia, other one, he is in Japan now. He says it's better in America, so he is trying to go to America. It's just us old people in the house. They do come once in a year, but it's not like those days. Other peoples' children come after many years, so it's not difficult for us," the older man in Dhaka topi said.
"Oh, is America better these days? I'm trying to go out to study, but they say it's not as easy in America these days, do you know?" said the spectacled college student next to Raul.
"Khoi babu, I don't understand these things, but he said Japan is difficult, the language is hard, and good work is hard to find. In America there are more Nepalis, and you can find a job anyhow. People find jobs that pay a lot immediately after landing too, it's not like that in Japan, says my son. Young people like you must know these things more than I do. I just talk to my sons, and listen to the news, I don't know too much, " the topi-wearer replied.
Television and newspaper news had become strange, Raul had noticed. They covered either core political news, or news of Nepali diaspora. Any news beyond that was non-existent. He had tried looking into news archives to create a economic policy paper for the elections. The promulgation and implementation of even landmark bills barely got a couple of paragraphs in the Economy pages. Rather, they were covered by full-page advertisements of motorbikes, and barely-modified press-releases on the number of cars and bikes and shoes sold. Besides the ads for the consumer goods, the papers were mostly covered in pieces explaining where to go to work, or study, and how to apply, and get good SAT scores. The entire mass media was actively facilitating and encouraging people to get out of the country, for any reason.
Trapped in a Jeep
[NaNoWriMo Day 2]
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
Raul was trapped in an old jeep with thirteen strangers, two of whom were toddlers in sour moods. The conductor claimed that the clanking noise coming from underneath wasn't an issue, but what it actually was was incomprehensible to Raul.
"Bhai, if it's making noise, it means something that should not be moving is moving and hitting against the engine. If we stop, I can look at it and see what's up," Raul said, looking at the conductor who couldn't have been more than seventeen.
"No, no, no, don't need to. We have already shown it to the mechanic in the garage, and he said that some part of the differential was not smooth, so it was rubbing and making the noise. Once we keep driving, the noise will go down. It's already gotten much quieter in the last two weeks since we brought it back from the garage," the conductor said, without looking at Raul.
"Yes, that's right. Right when we got it back, you couldn't hear anyone talk at all. Now it's become a lot better, we don't even notice it is there. Since you're new to it, you can hear it, but in a couple of hours you will just ignore it," the driver said. He slid his hand to the volume knob, and turned on the volume.
"Oh, if the mechanic says so, then it must be fine. I've worked with smaller cars too, so I have an idea of what to do in case a cars breaks down, so we have a backup if something happens, " Raul said, giving up.
"It's not worthy of you to be worrying about such things! You are our Mukhiya's guest, and maybe someday you will become the Prime Minister! We couldn't let our future chief be our mechanic, hahah. We will take care of the jeep sir, you just relax and enjoy the scenery," the driver said, overtaking a tractor on a curve.
"Haha, your mukhiya likes to make people laugh. I'm a bureaucrat, not a political leader. He is a political leader, he knows everyone, and knows what everyone wants, and he can arrange things to make people happy. He is what a leader looks like. If someone like me were to be the Prime Minister, where would our country be. All our roads would be like this, hahaha," said Raul, just as the vehicle jumped out of a large ditch.
"He is an old kind of leader. He likes to rule. He has done us well, and we respect him. But we have seen people like him go to the upper level posts, and then inflate like a balloon in a few months. They remember us once in five years, but these days, they just pay the radios and internet, and don't even come here in that time. People like you should get a chance, you have seen the world. And you know how to fix a car despite being a high-level person, if you can fix a car, you might fix a country too who knows," the driver said, spitting through his window, and taking a swig of water from the bottle by his side. The music volume had been lowered.
"I've eaten many years too, I'm not young. But if fixing cars made you able to fix countries, the mechanic who told you this noise was as it was supposed to be would be a minister, definitely," Raul said. The toddler in the seat accross had started crying in hiccups. His mother was giving him strong pats on his back, against the rhythm of the cry. The crying subsided.
"People like that reaching high up is the problem! We had a cobbler in our village, when I was young we used to get our shoes made from him and tease him. And then the communists came and everyone went everywhere and he became a minister. They asked him on kantipur, in that show where the public can ask them question, this college girl asked him if he could count his achievements. He said there were so many, he couldn't say it. He couldn't say even one thing that he had done as a minister in three years! They don't go up there to make the country, it's just to fill their stomachs. And their hunger never subsides. We've seen it all. Instead of that, at least well-educated, honest-looking people should get a good chance, I think. They say you have to have seen poverty to be a minister, but we have seen all the ministers, what have they done for us? They think we don't see anything," the crying toddler's mother said.
"Right. And where is your area?" Raul asked.
"Dolakha district, but Chitwan is my residence now. I keep going to Kathmandu because of work matter, but my registration is still in Dolakha. I took three days holiday to go vote last time, " she said.
"He must be from the other party, so you're angry at him. They're probably saying the same things about your party people too," I said, with a teasing smile.
She smiled back. "No, no, it's not like that. I vote for the party only because there is no one good in the ballot. Now, if you're going to have thieves robbing you anyway, might as well be your thief so at least you get something later," she said. "If a good honest person comes, they will get my vote. But good people don't want to get into politics at all, or they are chased away. And people like you, the smart ones are all abroad or doctor or engineers, so we are left with those who failed the SLC because they were teasing girls and smoking gaanja during their class who run for them and win them. That's our choice, and we have to choose one anyway," she said. Her child now seemed sound asleep.
"So our sister's a congressi then, we are to understand," said a man from the far end of the jeep. Raul looked at the new interlocutor. He had a thin, wrinkled face, thick framed glasses, and was wearing a Dhaka topi.
"Congress is what I have to say, yes, Congress, but I'm not a party worker or anything like that. If I had to say, I would vote any good candidate who was not a communist," she said, with a smile.
Raul looked around, and saw everyone in the back of the jeep was smiling now.
[Warning: This is poorly written and completely unedited. I just want to get a novel written soon.]
Raul was trapped in an old jeep with thirteen strangers, two of whom were toddlers in sour moods. The conductor claimed that the clanking noise coming from underneath wasn't an issue, but what it actually was was incomprehensible to Raul.
"Bhai, if it's making noise, it means something that should not be moving is moving and hitting against the engine. If we stop, I can look at it and see what's up," Raul said, looking at the conductor who couldn't have been more than seventeen.
"No, no, no, don't need to. We have already shown it to the mechanic in the garage, and he said that some part of the differential was not smooth, so it was rubbing and making the noise. Once we keep driving, the noise will go down. It's already gotten much quieter in the last two weeks since we brought it back from the garage," the conductor said, without looking at Raul.
"Yes, that's right. Right when we got it back, you couldn't hear anyone talk at all. Now it's become a lot better, we don't even notice it is there. Since you're new to it, you can hear it, but in a couple of hours you will just ignore it," the driver said. He slid his hand to the volume knob, and turned on the volume.
"Oh, if the mechanic says so, then it must be fine. I've worked with smaller cars too, so I have an idea of what to do in case a cars breaks down, so we have a backup if something happens, " Raul said, giving up.
"It's not worthy of you to be worrying about such things! You are our Mukhiya's guest, and maybe someday you will become the Prime Minister! We couldn't let our future chief be our mechanic, hahah. We will take care of the jeep sir, you just relax and enjoy the scenery," the driver said, overtaking a tractor on a curve.
"Haha, your mukhiya likes to make people laugh. I'm a bureaucrat, not a political leader. He is a political leader, he knows everyone, and knows what everyone wants, and he can arrange things to make people happy. He is what a leader looks like. If someone like me were to be the Prime Minister, where would our country be. All our roads would be like this, hahaha," said Raul, just as the vehicle jumped out of a large ditch.
"He is an old kind of leader. He likes to rule. He has done us well, and we respect him. But we have seen people like him go to the upper level posts, and then inflate like a balloon in a few months. They remember us once in five years, but these days, they just pay the radios and internet, and don't even come here in that time. People like you should get a chance, you have seen the world. And you know how to fix a car despite being a high-level person, if you can fix a car, you might fix a country too who knows," the driver said, spitting through his window, and taking a swig of water from the bottle by his side. The music volume had been lowered.
"I've eaten many years too, I'm not young. But if fixing cars made you able to fix countries, the mechanic who told you this noise was as it was supposed to be would be a minister, definitely," Raul said. The toddler in the seat accross had started crying in hiccups. His mother was giving him strong pats on his back, against the rhythm of the cry. The crying subsided.
"People like that reaching high up is the problem! We had a cobbler in our village, when I was young we used to get our shoes made from him and tease him. And then the communists came and everyone went everywhere and he became a minister. They asked him on kantipur, in that show where the public can ask them question, this college girl asked him if he could count his achievements. He said there were so many, he couldn't say it. He couldn't say even one thing that he had done as a minister in three years! They don't go up there to make the country, it's just to fill their stomachs. And their hunger never subsides. We've seen it all. Instead of that, at least well-educated, honest-looking people should get a good chance, I think. They say you have to have seen poverty to be a minister, but we have seen all the ministers, what have they done for us? They think we don't see anything," the crying toddler's mother said.
"Right. And where is your area?" Raul asked.
"Dolakha district, but Chitwan is my residence now. I keep going to Kathmandu because of work matter, but my registration is still in Dolakha. I took three days holiday to go vote last time, " she said.
"He must be from the other party, so you're angry at him. They're probably saying the same things about your party people too," I said, with a teasing smile.
She smiled back. "No, no, it's not like that. I vote for the party only because there is no one good in the ballot. Now, if you're going to have thieves robbing you anyway, might as well be your thief so at least you get something later," she said. "If a good honest person comes, they will get my vote. But good people don't want to get into politics at all, or they are chased away. And people like you, the smart ones are all abroad or doctor or engineers, so we are left with those who failed the SLC because they were teasing girls and smoking gaanja during their class who run for them and win them. That's our choice, and we have to choose one anyway," she said. Her child now seemed sound asleep.
"So our sister's a congressi then, we are to understand," said a man from the far end of the jeep. Raul looked at the new interlocutor. He had a thin, wrinkled face, thick framed glasses, and was wearing a Dhaka topi.
"Congress is what I have to say, yes, Congress, but I'm not a party worker or anything like that. If I had to say, I would vote any good candidate who was not a communist," she said, with a smile.
Raul looked around, and saw everyone in the back of the jeep was smiling now.
Melancholy and fogginess
[Day 1 of NaNoWriMo]
[This is bad and unedited. Recommended not to be read]
Note: Two years ago I started writing a novel. Over a period of coffee-fuelled anxiety at work, I wrote about 23 000 words. I haven't been able to find any of that again. Perhaps I'll find it some day, but I've given up hope. They say that as a writer, the first step in editing your draft is deleting your first ten pages, because you're over-explaining things. I am not going to rewrite those pages, and am continuing my story as if those pages were found and had been read. I realized after writing this that I actually have a 'history' that the readers don't, so that's a good thing, etc.
The mood was sombre. Raul had talked to Nakul dai the day before, and all he had said was that the government might change. That wasn't very helpful. Even if it did, the knowledge was useless without knowing which side would be the one to bet on.
Across the world, important, crazy things were happening. Madam president, the one who had gone to the same college as Saana, was nearing the end of her term. It seemed her country had gone mad in the last years of her presidency. A madman -- and clearly a madman -- was seen as the likely-winner in the upcoming elections. The world would be a very different place with him in power, it was clear.
It had started raining heavily again. Raul looked outside his living room window. The sky was dark as Bagmati's waters. The raindrops were hit the wall-to-ceiling windowpanes furiously. Across the road was Rani Pokhari, now with Blue water. There was a small crowd of people taking shelter on the temple island. He wondered how they were going to get out of there without getting drenched: the rains were predicted to last till the next morning. There was no way out, they were fools for waiting out the rain when they should just have run, he thought.
Saana. Every thunder every heavy rainfall reminded him of her. She was what now... 20 ? Raul stared at the ceiling, and shut his eyes. She was a child. And she'd been even younger then. What had he been thinking? Yet. He missed her. He'd cared for her like he hadn't cared for his live-in age-appropriate girlfriends back in the day. She had seemed so... mature, for her age, and despite her outbursts, was willing to concede, and admit that she'd learned something. She was humble in a gentle way, and she was kind, though that was often difficult to see through her murderous rage. She could make him absolutely hate her, and still, still, he'd want her. Just to hold her hands. Just to sit back-to-back on the floor, reading novels, as Kathmandu flooded, and the gentle noise of the rain drowned out the cacophony of the city in those months. Life with her had been peaceful, kind, gentle. Things were going to be very different, Raul realized, 'probably why I miss her now'.
He slid one of the window panes across the tracks. He was hit by a whiff of warm steam that smelled mildly sour. It had stopped raining. Somehow, the rain had stopped. The usual noise of the roads wasn't there... everyone had stayed out from the rain. The islanders were rushing into tiny boats, getting rowed away from the temple. He hadn't expected the rain to stop, even for a little bit. He had been wrong, they had made the right bet. On his side of the road, people were quietly lining up for their buses, as several buses came in at the same time. One, two, three, Raul counted three buses of the same Kathmandu-Bhaktapur route that were together. The throngs of passengers filled them up in no time. Three buses. Sixty, seventy people a bus, so that's at least two hundred people there. And each of them with their own problems and boyfriends and girlfriends, and people they missed, and aching hearts, and ambitions. How do you cope with all of that?
There was a clown in one of his college philosophy classes, a solipsist whose primary response to any philosophical argument was 'but what if you didn't exist, man, and like, this is all in my head'. Raul had always wondered how these people made it through four years of college. He'd found out much later that most of the clown's class-personality was essentially an act: he'd gotten straight A's, and had gone on to Oxford later. So he had been leading people to lower their defenses while he secretly did extraordinarily well. Raul had felt like an idiot then. 'But, but, he... he..., he's actually like that, right, a stoner philosopher, ', he had asked Ojesh, his college roommate who had shared a seminar class with the genius-clown. "He's actually really smart, and acts like an idiot to entertain people. I don't think he did much pot," Ojesh had said. For days after, he had been light-headed, asking everyone if they known that the stoner-clown hadn't been either. No one was as impressed as he was. The experience had lifted a shroud of fog in his mind.
And he was foggy now. He couldn't clearly see what was happening, or predict with any certainty what was about to happen. The suaveness that he seemed to have gained in the city after coming back wasn't useful anymore. No one was willing to talk. Party nominations were times of high stress, and for him as an outsider, it was going to be particularly hard. But with all the connections he had made, and the plying he had done, he had hoped to make at least some headway. And it wasn't that people were selfish: even those who were otherwise talkative and had no goat in the game had stopped talking. They would talk about just about anything -- expensive schools, American presidents, the drama happening in India, and the derivative movies that seemed to be all the rage these days -- but the nominations and tickets. "These things take time, and no one can really tell what is going to happen because there are so many forces at play," would be what he universally got. Just tell me what those goddamn forces are so I can try playing them, he had thought, but there was no real information flow. It had started raining again, and fat drops of cold water were coming in through the open window. Raul slided the window closed, and watched the road, his face against the glass.
[This is bad and unedited. Recommended not to be read]
Note: Two years ago I started writing a novel. Over a period of coffee-fuelled anxiety at work, I wrote about 23 000 words. I haven't been able to find any of that again. Perhaps I'll find it some day, but I've given up hope. They say that as a writer, the first step in editing your draft is deleting your first ten pages, because you're over-explaining things. I am not going to rewrite those pages, and am continuing my story as if those pages were found and had been read. I realized after writing this that I actually have a 'history' that the readers don't, so that's a good thing, etc.
The mood was sombre. Raul had talked to Nakul dai the day before, and all he had said was that the government might change. That wasn't very helpful. Even if it did, the knowledge was useless without knowing which side would be the one to bet on.
Across the world, important, crazy things were happening. Madam president, the one who had gone to the same college as Saana, was nearing the end of her term. It seemed her country had gone mad in the last years of her presidency. A madman -- and clearly a madman -- was seen as the likely-winner in the upcoming elections. The world would be a very different place with him in power, it was clear.
It had started raining heavily again. Raul looked outside his living room window. The sky was dark as Bagmati's waters. The raindrops were hit the wall-to-ceiling windowpanes furiously. Across the road was Rani Pokhari, now with Blue water. There was a small crowd of people taking shelter on the temple island. He wondered how they were going to get out of there without getting drenched: the rains were predicted to last till the next morning. There was no way out, they were fools for waiting out the rain when they should just have run, he thought.
Saana. Every thunder every heavy rainfall reminded him of her. She was what now... 20 ? Raul stared at the ceiling, and shut his eyes. She was a child. And she'd been even younger then. What had he been thinking? Yet. He missed her. He'd cared for her like he hadn't cared for his live-in age-appropriate girlfriends back in the day. She had seemed so... mature, for her age, and despite her outbursts, was willing to concede, and admit that she'd learned something. She was humble in a gentle way, and she was kind, though that was often difficult to see through her murderous rage. She could make him absolutely hate her, and still, still, he'd want her. Just to hold her hands. Just to sit back-to-back on the floor, reading novels, as Kathmandu flooded, and the gentle noise of the rain drowned out the cacophony of the city in those months. Life with her had been peaceful, kind, gentle. Things were going to be very different, Raul realized, 'probably why I miss her now'.
He slid one of the window panes across the tracks. He was hit by a whiff of warm steam that smelled mildly sour. It had stopped raining. Somehow, the rain had stopped. The usual noise of the roads wasn't there... everyone had stayed out from the rain. The islanders were rushing into tiny boats, getting rowed away from the temple. He hadn't expected the rain to stop, even for a little bit. He had been wrong, they had made the right bet. On his side of the road, people were quietly lining up for their buses, as several buses came in at the same time. One, two, three, Raul counted three buses of the same Kathmandu-Bhaktapur route that were together. The throngs of passengers filled them up in no time. Three buses. Sixty, seventy people a bus, so that's at least two hundred people there. And each of them with their own problems and boyfriends and girlfriends, and people they missed, and aching hearts, and ambitions. How do you cope with all of that?
There was a clown in one of his college philosophy classes, a solipsist whose primary response to any philosophical argument was 'but what if you didn't exist, man, and like, this is all in my head'. Raul had always wondered how these people made it through four years of college. He'd found out much later that most of the clown's class-personality was essentially an act: he'd gotten straight A's, and had gone on to Oxford later. So he had been leading people to lower their defenses while he secretly did extraordinarily well. Raul had felt like an idiot then. 'But, but, he... he..., he's actually like that, right, a stoner philosopher, ', he had asked Ojesh, his college roommate who had shared a seminar class with the genius-clown. "He's actually really smart, and acts like an idiot to entertain people. I don't think he did much pot," Ojesh had said. For days after, he had been light-headed, asking everyone if they known that the stoner-clown hadn't been either. No one was as impressed as he was. The experience had lifted a shroud of fog in his mind.
And he was foggy now. He couldn't clearly see what was happening, or predict with any certainty what was about to happen. The suaveness that he seemed to have gained in the city after coming back wasn't useful anymore. No one was willing to talk. Party nominations were times of high stress, and for him as an outsider, it was going to be particularly hard. But with all the connections he had made, and the plying he had done, he had hoped to make at least some headway. And it wasn't that people were selfish: even those who were otherwise talkative and had no goat in the game had stopped talking. They would talk about just about anything -- expensive schools, American presidents, the drama happening in India, and the derivative movies that seemed to be all the rage these days -- but the nominations and tickets. "These things take time, and no one can really tell what is going to happen because there are so many forces at play," would be what he universally got. Just tell me what those goddamn forces are so I can try playing them, he had thought, but there was no real information flow. It had started raining again, and fat drops of cold water were coming in through the open window. Raul slided the window closed, and watched the road, his face against the glass.
Bad bad bad impulses
First thought: Wow she's scaring me.
Second thought: That's hot.
Third thought: I should blog about it!
Fourth thought: Is it me or is she like really old?
Fifth thought: That's likely her brother.
Sixth thought: why's she poking her nose in public? Idk if that makes her seem more... approachable... Or weird.
Seventh thought: Something is wrong with at least one of us. The staring down has gotta stop.
Eighth thought: I'm bored.
Back from Nepal
I was there for four months! Intense times, important learning experience etcetera. Longer pieces incoming soon hopefully. We'll see!
Haha
Dear bt,
This blog has had many instances where I've implied it, but let us be clear: if i were to marry, it'd be you. And only you. And noone else.
Ciao
-R
1200-year-old sanskrit poetry
Anonymous sanskrit poetry, traced back to at least 900 CE.
Source
They lay upon the bed each turned aside,
suffering in silence;
though love still dwelt within their hearts
each feared a loss of pride;
But then out of the corner of their eyes,
their sidelong glances met
and the quarrel broke in laughter as they turned around
and clasped each other's neck.
Currently reading: Favourite Paper
http://www-personal.umich.edu/~pehook/ingalls.pdf
I'd strongly suggest you read as much as you can. I found it funny, illuminating, and very readable. It is a portion of "Sanskrit Poetry from Vidyakara's Treasury" (a 1100 yo sanskrit poet).
I'd strongly suggest you read as much as you can. I found it funny, illuminating, and very readable. It is a portion of "Sanskrit Poetry from Vidyakara's Treasury" (a 1100 yo sanskrit poet).
How is it
How is it that most of our women friends and acquaintances and lovers are all people who went to women's colleges? Is it that women who have ever interacted with other men are too smart/suave for us? It's sad!
No seriously though, how is it?
No seriously though, how is it?
New year 2017 celebrations
Not that it needs reminding anyone anymore, but this new year's was a particularly very adult and peaceful new year. With one particular exception when we could all have died horrible deaths, and the situation where I may have stolen from a shop. Good times though, good times :)
Words people definitely dont mean
I always figured it was a clichéd joke. It's not.
Everything is fine.
Change
We change, yeah. And sometimes we change in opposite directions. You will want to talk more about things I will be less interested in. And we know where that leads to. Can friends break up?
I'm tired.
New year 2017 celebration
Not that it needs reminding anyone anymore, but this new year's was a particularly very adult and peaceful new year. With one particular exception when we could all have died horrible deaths, and the situation where I may have stolen from a shop. Good times though, good times :)
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