"One Evening of Pashupati Prasad ":
-----------------------------------------------

The cattle were just returning back from the pasture. The whirling dust emitted in the street was enveloping the sky. There was a loud chirping of birds coming through the bamboo grove. Far beyond the ridge, the sun was going to set, letting the horizon into crimson color. Amidst this twilight environment, there was Pashupati Prasad walking the heavy steps towards a small bazaar from the countryside.

When he reached the bazaar he turned right and kept going on along a narrow lane. There was a house facing to the north about hundred yards ahead in the right of the street. He entered into the same house. Though the house looked simple externally, there was a corridor in the middle. Altogether there were four rooms with the walls made of reeds. The rooms, devoid of doors, hung some long colorful curtains. Each room contained a long table and bench on both sides. At a corner to the east, there was a spacious room with a fireplace at the other end. Attached to the wall in the west, there was a cupboard. In the kitchen, there were some pots, bottles of pickle, some other filled and empty bottles, a pitcher and some wooden blocks. Having a quick glance of each room, Pashupati Prasad proceeded. The rooms were quite full of people. The glasses, plates, and bottles on the table displayed a look of business. Every one in the room seemed to be perspiring. They were more indulged in chats rather than food. In the room towards the southeast corner, Pashupati Prasad happened to see Rasaram, but nobody from the inside of the room noticed him. Pashupati Prasad, who regared Rasaram to be his living enemy, would have liked to return back home immediately. But he stopped as he heard a sound of bracelets. As he peeped into the kitchen, he saw the young daughter of the landlady serving pickles on the plates. He seems to forget everything and sneaked into the kitchen.

Sitting on a wooden block at a corner of the kitchen, he started chewing the dry buff together with local wine. As the evening grew darker, he slowly got more and more intoxicated.

After a while, there were two more customers. In a dramatic fashion Pashupati Prasad welcomed them. Instantly, there was the young lady to receive her guests. Before they spoke, Pashupati made an order. Then the lady bought a bottle of wine, two glasses and some dry meat on two plates.

“Who is there having a better personality than yours in this place?”

The talks were obviously overheard by the people in the kitchen.

“I am telling the same.” Rasaram burst out. “Have I started politics today? It’s been full twenty-three years. What didn’t I become? Didn’t I become a mayor or a chairman or a parliamentarian? But I have a great desire which is still incomplete.” While uttering the last line, he lowered his tone.

“What’s that great desire?” asked one of the men sitting together.

“Why don’t you understand, you fool?” The next man said quickly.

“You are a child in terms of politics,” taking a draught of wine he spoke.

“The desire is to become a minister, you understand?”

Looking shortly at the person who asked the question, he said to Rasaram, “How did you feel?”

Slapping on his shoulder Rasaram said,”Correct, you are 100 % correct”

The next man put a question, “Now tell me, what will you do for the people after you become a minister? Will you also build a sky-crapper?”

“Stop these nonsense talks. This is what is called politics. What you know? The promises made to the people are merely tactics for winning their votes, you know? All the leaders say they will serve the people. But tell me who has done so in reality so far ?”

Rasaram told more sharply, don’t talk about sky-crappers. You are still a child you know? What do you think I did for these twenty-three years? Do I need to become a minister to build a house? To be a minister is my hobby, you know?”

The man who asked the question was soaked thoroughly with perspiration. One of them filled the glasses with wine. Then everyone picked up the glasses.

Taking a long breath of smoke a man held the chin at his hand and broke into the conversation again. “It looks there will be a pretty good competition this time. There are thirty-eight candidates having different inward dispositions of their own. On the other hand, there is Ratnaman fighting with the blessing of the government.”

Putting the glass down on the table Rasaram spoke,. “To get a victory over the election, we need to have tactic, you know? Some fascinating programs, attractive slogans and generosity. “the system has sought for an alternative solution” is my slogan this time. The dissatisfied individuals will cast a solid vote with this much. In addition to this, I have referred the word “Democracy” in so many places. In a roundabout way, I’ve presented the idea that I’ve involved in a banned party. I started my political career through the “Panchayat”. Of course, I am a corrupted Pancha. Then, who’s there to win the election except me?” Rasaram spoke proudly.

On the other hand, the offensive noise coming from the room where Rasaram was talking, seemed to torture Pasupati Prasad who was drunk enough by now. This countenance swelled with a feeling of disgust. He was sweating heavily. The more he got excited, the fast he emptied the glass and chewed the dry meat. His two companions also were highly drunk. After a while, Rasaram got up together with his friends and headed towards the street. After he went out, pashupati Prasad looked back at the narrow passage of the house with indignation and spat rather awkwardly.

His two companions were already intoxicated. Chewing the dry meat rather noisily like that of a pig, one of them said something to Pashupati Prasad “I’ve heard that you’re also competing in the election this time, aren’t you?”

“You see, these vile people have already corrupted our country. They are always powerful. This really infuriated me and thereby I was determined to compete the election this time. But you see, dear teacher, I can rely only on the support of intellectuals like you. At least give me one chance. Thereby, I will show you my aptitude,”said Pashupati Prasad quite hopefully.

“don’t call me a teacher, but a contractor now. As far as teaching is concerned, once upon a time, I was a teacher. But those are the bygone days. They have passed. They’re finished. I’m fed up with that job, I don’t even like the ward ‘teacher,’” he aid rather proudly. “So far as the election is concerned, and if you need any donation, I’m ready to help you. But I’ll vote for Rasaram only.”

“Why?” Pashupati Prasad asked angrily.

“Because he is the hero of this place. Myself being a contractor, I’ve got lot of things to be done by him. He’ll surely win the election. If I help him today, he’ll be helping me tomorrow.” Saying so he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. He looked at Pashupati Prasad who was also gazing at him. The contractors instantly looked down the floor, undid the packet of cigarettes, too out a piece and held between the lips rather proudly. Squinting at Pashupati Prasad he said, “How do you feel, my dear leader?” After he lit the cigarette with a spark of a matchstick, he rendered a faint smile on his face, then he got up. Pashupati didn’t say anything.

“O.k. My dear leader, good night1” This was the last shot aimed at Pashupati Prasad. He walked out with his friend.

The bitter expression of the contractor caused more restlessness to pashupati Prasad. He asked for another bottle of wine and started drinking again. Many more people came and left but Pashupati Prasad didn’t leave. He wanted to forget everything so as to pacify his tormented heart. He asked for some pickle with the daughter of the landlady. When she approached him, he was blinded with lust. In his emotion, he caught her tightly, then she screamed loudly. The son of the landlord, a dangerous fellow, entered the room, pushed him roughly outside and made a heavy kick. Immediately, the landlord arrived there, sent the boy inside and showed unsteadily a bit farther. In the night, his legs gave way and he slipped down into a pit.

The accident, which happened last night, profoundly afflicted the heart of Pasupati Prasad . Once he recollected his past. He saw that there were countless ad days left behind him. He had come to this position enduring many painful obstacles and complications. “ Life is a struggle, full of multitude ups and downs but one shouldn’t get frustrated. He consoled himself in such a way.

During the revolution of 1951 AD he was involved in the Gorkha league. Later in 1959, he became the spokes-man of the parliamentary system. Shortly afterwards, he was influenced by the idealism of socialism. Though he was highly ambitious of the leadership, he worked as a clerk in a government office. During this time, he had accumulated a lot of property through unfair means, but after few years he was suspended from his service with the accusation of corruption.

After he had lost his job, he stared leading a life of a violent protestor. This didn’t achieve anything. Afterwards he tried to overthrow the local authority. There was change in his philosophy as he grew older. He dreamt of becoming at least the zonal commissioner. He started propagating the values of Party less system. During every administrative change, he heard the rumor that his name was also enlisted. But in reality, that didn’t turn up to be true. Afterwards, when his desire even to be the administrative officer in the district wasn’t fulfilled, he was determined to register his name as the candidate for the parliament member.

Lying on the bed, he was maneuvering over many sticky labyrinths of politics. The hot sun was heating the atmosphere outside. He started muttering to himself in a whining sound, “Rasaram is a robber”. He felt ashamed of his won activities. Still he could not pacify himself. At last, he started writing in a paper – “Rase the so-called Rasaram, is a robber. Whatever he has done, that is against the welfare of the people. Therefore I beseech you to vote for me, I’m the right candidate for you all.” He concluded his leaflet this way. Next day, he got it published with his photo stuck on to the top. Then he himself patched them on the walls of each and every household with cow-dung That night he got a sound sleep.