"An Eternal Journey"

The morning fog was getting thinner. However, the cold could be felt fiercer. The process of going in and out was there in the office. It was because of this that the peon had rung the bell and the teachers were coming and going either to the office or to the classrooms. It was early enough to feel burdened, but Sudarshan’s facial appearance could be read as if haunted by some unseen fear.
“Good morning sir!” Uday greeted with his head nodding a bit and with a smile on his face. Sudershan tried to scrub brightness in his appearance with his low sound reply.
“Why? Aren’t you well?” he inquired politely.
“No, no friend! I am quite well. It is a bit cold. That’s all.” Sudershan was trying to look well. But he was not in the posture of getting away from the speculation of some experts, who could easily find out some sort of depression in him. He was so much depressed by the existing situation that he hadn’t found a way to express it.
He found an “invitation card’ on the tea table of his sitting room when he had been to his home for lunch. It was invitation from his neighbor whose daughter was going to get married. In the past, invitation used to have social importance and used to be taken as an occasion to exchange greetings and good wishes among social inhabitants. But the case was not the same now. It was an artificial vanity and unfair competition; a competition of wealth among the characters who were worth being exhibited.
Sudarshan thought about the wedding of some thirty years back. He was a student of intermediate level 1st year, then. It was only from then he had started to understand life. By nature he was serious and revolutionary in ideology. He went to the book-stall and bought some excellent books of world literature and wrapped them in a sheet of paper to present as a wedding gift for the classmate. Then after he went straight to the bride’s home and presented his gift. He felt proud and dignified as she received that with a sweet smile. He felt that there was a sense of thanks. However, he became an owl among the crows. He tried his best to make others follow his campaign, but failed. Single hand turns failure.
For a long period after the, he didn’t attend any wedding ceremonies. He wanted to marry with no dowry. Favorable was the circumstance. By then, he was a school supervisor and had to go to the village in the course of his job. He gave formality to his own marriage in the village. It was like what he had been longing for. It was by compulsion that he had to accept a piece of terry-cotton in sky-blue color, which he used for making a sleeping dress later. This was what he did in the past.
Whatever was the past, the bitter present was with him. He was to attend a wedding of his niece and had to buy a gift, but did not have a single penny. After he returned home, he looked at his wife for many times, but didn’t dare to speak with her. Her face was dark like a foggy winter with anger. He felt it better not to speak. So he did. There was a dead silence.
“Shouldn’t we buy dowry? Where is money?” His wife angrily burst like eruptions of larva from a volcano. This sort of remark hurt him. He spat and cursed himself. He felt humiliated. But he didn’t lose patience.
“wrap a dish used to eat meal and present it”. He came up with a solution and made his way.
No sooner had he stepped on the road., then he felt as if pushed into the ocean like a bird flying for the first time fluttering its wings leaving the nest. He reached the chowk after a short walk of about hundred meters. It was a garden of thirty-six clans and four castes.
There was a small shop on the left. There were some tomatoes, cabbages, chilies, some bananas, some oranges and so on. A middle-aged woman was there, waiting for the customers. On the right, there was a fancy store. A young girl behind the show-case in the shop was playing with knitting sticks and some woolen thread sitting on the chair. Probably she was knitting sweaters. Her hands were fast moving, but her eyes were seen more interested to the footsteps on the road. Every businessperson was waiting for customers. There was scarcity of customers. People also had scarcities, but the problem was that of money.
There was a pub by the side of the fancy. Comparatively, its condition was better: Some two or three rickshaws were parked outside It. Inside was some bench and facing the road was the kitchen (oven). Behind it was a wooden cupboard and on it was a black and white TV. A half-naked girl in a passionate way was pouring a pot of poison into the empty skulls of men through the satellite. There were some tables that exactly matched the benches. Glasses, bottles and plates were all scattered on the table like an unsystematic settlement by the forest. Men were eating and drinking with their attention fixed to the black and white TV on the cupboard. The pub owner was observing the pleasant scene from the counter. His wife and children were sitting on the cot, but eyes fixed to the lady dancer on the TV like that of a sky shuttle pointing to the sky.
There was an electric shop by the pub and near by it was a painter, painting a picture on the canvas. Opposite it was a hair dressing salon, where people could be seen being massaged by the hair dresser – Surendar Thakur, an inhabitant of Motihari. By the salon were photocopy center, computer com-stationery, Radio-watch Repair Center, a small Bar, Motor-Cycle Servicing Center and at its front was a provisional shop with gas cylinders on the floor outside and open sacks of potatoes, flour, onion, rice, garlic, and etc. The shopkeeper and his wife were busy giving and taking goods and money respectively. It was over crowded. There were masons, carpenters, coolies, neighboring housewives and men, children, teachers, office employees and varieties of people as permanent customers. It seemed that it was the only shop to provide goods at reasonable prices, but the case was different. The shop offered goods in credit. The permanent customers would get goods on credit for a month or more than that.
Beside the crowded shop was a photo studio. It was fenced by the transparent glass leaving the entrance open at the front. Even the internal structure could easily be seen from long distance. Walls of the studio were decorated with the nude pictures in a fascinating way. Whoever the person was, eyes fell on them. It was the junction of vagabonds. They sat there from dawn to dusk and passed the time doing nonsensical things. They roughly observed the passers-by, especially young women’s breasts and the movements of their hips making unfair remarks.
Mind of people has been poisoned by perversion
Sudarshan came out of home from no purpose. After reaching the chowk of the main road, he stood still. He was in a dilemma about what to do and where to go. His face was gloomy. People passing lives through crisscross roads with difficulty usually get confused when they reach the chowk after crawling from a track. Though confused, he reached the market. There was uncontrolled jostling. In fact, he wanted to escape away from that crowded place to a naturally beautiful place where there wouldn’t be deception, artificiality and vanity. But it was impossible.
The earth has become poisoned day by day.
Parting the earth into two halves, the pitch road is run. It seemed that there was a race competition of vehicles. Dust was blowing to either sides of the road. All the things and places were covered with dust. People entered the hotels, sat there, ate, drank and come out as if they hadn’t seen the dust.
In the downtown he entered a communication center. There was a youth in the counter. He was his ex-student. The center was peaceful because there was not a single customer. As he was without a single penny, he thought of borrowing some from him. For that he had to lose self-dignity. His conscience didn’t allow him to do so.
They had a chat, but irrelevant.
“ You can run an NGO, sir”, the young boy said. This helped him as to an ant dropped into a pond when it gets a twig. But the problem was that he didn’t know any thing about NGO.
“Once you meet Arjun, he knows everything”. This worked him as some fuel added to the extinguishing fire.
Arjun was idle after he appeared in the SLC. It was the time when everybody talked about NGO and INGO. He also involved himself in a NGO. He could make money there, but couldn’t do well in his studies. He dedicated himself to his chosen field. Sudershan wanted to go there in order to meet Arjun immediately after he heard so. His economic condition could be raised if Arjun appointed him at least to the adviser. Sudershan imagined his economically sound future and asked for Arjun’s address.
“A bit farther from the ‘family planning office,’ “ The young boy said.
They were quiet for sometime. The boy offered tea and both had it. Sudershan was thinking about when he would meet Arjun. He stood first and they parted.
He reached a chowk. Even until then, there was a conflict within his mind. A min-bus appeared there and stopped. Some got off and some got in. he got into it. After passing the second stop, the bus stopped at the “family planning office” chowk. He came out of the bus and moved forward as he was instructed.
He had forgotten the name of the NGO given by the young boy. After a short walk, he saw a small, old building to the north from the road, at the front of which he could see a signboard hung. On it was written “Health Care Nepal”, after his minute observation, he concluded it to be the NGO office he was looking for.
He entered the house or the office through an iron door. There he saw some 2-3 plastic chairs in blue color. Guessing someone’s arrival, a small, lean and thin boy of around 12-13 came out to the door and looked outside as if he was welcoming a stranger. Sudarshan entered the room and was astonished because of what he saw There were some plastic chairs and two office tables. A small boy was on one of the tables and on the other was an old man smoking and coughing. He seemed as if he was working something.
“hello, namaste, namaste, come and sit please. Where are you from?” he was inquiring making his face bright. Sudershan greeting him and replied in a twisted fashion. In fact the had been there to meet Arjun, but the very man was not Arjun. He was a teacher at a school Sudershan read in his childhood.
Once more the old man was caught of coughing even after sudarshan’s entry to the so-called office.
Turing to the corner he coughed and after he got relief, he smoked a cigarette. The room was filled with smoke. This made Sudarshan feel bad, but he had already been in and it wasn’t good for him to return back out of the room immediately.
“And when did you start this, sir?” Sudarhan asked.
“For about five-seven years,” the ex-teacher replied.
“What are its chief objectives?” Sudarahan asked another question reluctantly.
“Healthy society, world peace, friendliness and brotherhood.” Giving a brochure he explained. He thought of Arjun’s involvement in the NGO. So he inquired for more. “And who of you are involved here sir?” he went on.
“we some social workers are,” saying so he showed a file.
Sudarsan opened it and found some details of the members involved. The teacher his wife, their children and relatives were its members.
Members were of two kinds active and passive. It was mentioned in the form.
“How is the fund collected for its smooth operation?” Sudarahan asked.
“It is all God’s grace. Good wishers like you come here. They become attracted by our selfless activities and lavishly contribute. We write and put up the name list of those who help.”
Pointing to the name list the teacher went on. “Drops make an oceans”
On the left of the room there could be seen the name list of the donors, some natives and some foreigners, with the amount they donated.
Now sudarshan was sure that he reached the wrong place. He had a sense of hatred to the boy in the communication center, who had sent him there. He remained quiet for sometime because of excessive anger.
“would you smoke a cigarette?” the teacher spoke breaking ling silence.
“Thanks, I don’t smoke!” Sudarashan replied politely
“Good, very good”, the teacher praised him in a sophisticated style. Then, he smoked a cigarette and the atmosphere of the room was once more polluted.
“I am very happy to meet you sir,” Sudarashan said, preparing to set out.
“Please do come! We expect your help,” the teacher said, with a cigarette in his hand.
“yes sir, see you sir!” Sudarashan wanted to escape quickly. He greeted with a namaskar and came out.
The environment outside was somehow peaceful.
The Road lay facing East –West . He Turned east and continued his long journey like a stranger who has started an eternal journey for ages.

February, 1999
Translated by Hom Lal Panday
 

Hari Har Khanal
Chitawan, Nepal

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