Chapter 3

Chapter 3

This is first day at his new school and the foremost day at grade ten. Jeweled with a new version of charm and confidence, Aakash is seen gushing with smiles. He tries to enchant everybody with it. Without his specks he looks strange than ever. Freaky and peppy he appears.

He introduces himself to his new classmates. Some friends welcome him with excited handshakes and other with certain suspicion in their eyes.

The time is divided and is suspicious.

Yet everyone seems enjoyed welcoming a new companion.

As the school bell rings at sharp 10, the hustle- bustle inside the school premises suddenly recedes. Then enters their class teacher of Shakespearean hair style having a strongly buildup body.

He is present with an arrogant charm, as what everyone sense.

“Good mor………ning Sirrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

The class greets in a dull manner like that of Grade 2 students.

“Good morning, my students.” The teacher responds in a commanding voice full of energy.

“Well many new faces here, let them be introduced with me. Hey man! One facing backward! Be straight. What’s your name?”

He is probably a new student and was exchanging his companionship with the oldies. Listening to the roaring call he looses his confidence and then stammers,

“I ….am Shiii…va Sir.”

The teacher retaliates in his husky voice, “Shiivaa! Shiva, what?”

“Ka…ka Kailash.”

Aakash imitates. Everyone chuckles at his remarks. Shiva goes stunned. Everyone looks at this impersonator.

“Who’s that scoundrel? Hey you are the one!”

The teacher marks at Aakash.

“You! The one. Yes. Stand up and tell me why and what are you imitating? Are you some joker? What do you want to prove, you smarty? Don’t you know it’s rude to imitate someone’s disabilities?”

Everyone holds up their breath as Chettri goes red.

The moment gets jammed in the space. Silence wrap up every corner of the class room.

“Come to the front. Hold up your ears, kneel down and act chicken,” he orders.

Petrified for a moment, he initiates to carry out the order. Suddenly, what he assumes, he appeals in a feeble voice, “Sir! We are too big to be chickens, can’t there be other options?”
“No.” The teacher goes furious.

“Ku khuri kan!” He enacts as if a cock.

“What the hell are you here for? Don’t infuriate me again. Kneel down properly. You need not to be a rooster otherwise I will roast you and eat you. Be a chicken. Chicken!” he orders.

Aakash follows the order. The energy that is reflected in his eyes gushes with mischief.

“Well I am your Chettri Sir.” Mr. Chettri writes his full name Rajendra Chettri in the black board. Then he continues-

“And I would be teaching you Chemistry. I am of clear opinion that if you want your feelings to be respected, you should respect that of others too. A must to have quality of a noble man. Anyone violating this rule will definitely get punishments of these kinds.”

His opinion seals the lips of every student. No one dares to question his opinion in difference nor dares anyone to giggle.

“I am your class teacher. As my student you should be abide my rules.”

He stops for a while and then peeks to know weather the students are paying attention to him.

“You should be punctual. Neatness and tidiness in your dress sense, behaviour and character is my demand. Being well disciplined and respectful to your teachers and elders helps you to learn the old processes to make the new ones. The fourth and last thing is you must be quiet and attentive while I take the lessons. No side talks and no whispers. Do you copy?”

“Yes Sir.”

The class endorses it with a loud, energetic harmony of cheer as like that of recruit in the military training camp.

An Aakash stand up from his position and articulates, “Sir, I am a new student here. I am not acquainted to your rules. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone or Shiva. I was making some jesting for my new mates. My act is not punishable if you realize that we are in the learning process. We can understand things if you state clearly. As what you already said, ‘one should understand other feelings for you to be understood’. I think you will forgive me for this first mistake. I assure you not to repeat it again.”

Aakash pleads convincingly. But as his behaviour, Chettri reacts,

“You think a lot smarty and move your mouth even more than that. Hunh! Huh?”

“You are not here to advise, you are here to study,” he adds.

“Well now get to your seat and don’t repeat this act from now. Apologize Shiva.”

“I am sorry Shiva.”

Aakash apologizes. Shiva nods his eyes in agreement of forgiveness.

“Well students we are starting organic chemistry from today. This is the first lesson, about the structure of Carbon.”

Chettri lowers his tone.

By: Raj Basyal (to be continued...)

My motto: One step ahead, everyday.

Chapter 2- Khushi: In the line of sorrows

Chapter 2

“Well, tell me what happened?” Sandesh inquires.
“As you know last Friday was our parents’ day. I had invited you be there,” Aakash reminds with hostility in his eyes.

“Well sorry dude, I couldn’t attend your request. You well know that, in the mean time I had to take my mother to the hospital. She was critically ill. Complaints of backache. Well didn’t you read my SMS,” Sandesh clarifies. Aakash just nods.

“Then?”
“I had participated in the music contest.”
“As always you stood there first, I know.” Sandesh was positive and excited.
“After that?”
“And I was invited along with my parents to the stage to receive the honor and medal.”

“So?” Suddenly, a feel of distress emerges in Sandesh’s eyes as he anticipates something unwanted would have occurred.

“Both of them arrived at the stage, kissed me. I received the medal for music. But while receiving the trophy for the best student they jostled with each other to get that trophy. All of the students in the auditorium laughed. The chief guest was embarrassed too. I could sense that in his eyes.”
“Disgusting.”

“Your parents are a peculiar example. Can’t they mask their dispute for some time being for the sake of joy of their only child? Haven’t they been reared up with good manners? I don’t know about you. But I don’t like your parents.”

Bewildered; he looks at his dear friend. Two drops of tear emerge out to wet his eyes and relief him from the intense pain. He can’t defend, he knows.

“Why don’t you revive your grieves with happiness? Why don’t you try to wipe down your wet eyes for forever? Why don’t you?” hardens Sandesh. His eyes blush with intense anger for the helplessness of his friend and the situation that has been created. Nothingness exists there for a while. Both know that the other care for him.

“Yes I will try. I have changed my previous school.” Aakash becomes firm.

“I won’t let people mock me with mine sufferings. And at least I don’t want to be broken. I have admitted for class 10 at the Miracle academy.” His determination is reflected in his eyes.
“Ha! It’s not the answer. Changing the school, friends and mentors changes the dimensions of your misery. It is not the solution to the misery that has rooted deep within you. Emerge out man! Out from envelope of the sorrows which you think they are affectionate and only for you. They are just fallacies. It is the sharing of happiness and division of grieves is what you make you complete. We need a view to see this relative world. If we are happy, the world seems happy.”

Quiet a sensible and practical piece of advice.

By: Raj Basyal

My motto: One step ahead, everyday.

Chapter 1- Khushi: In the line of sorrows

Chapter 1

Cheerless, he walks along the street. It is paved with blue stones.

Days are gone and were the years but a tinge of happiness he desired for many years have never come. It seems he is enclosed in a basket full of anguish and grief, around the garden of roses where he can smell love and joy but can’t hold and pamper it. Anxious, he thinks the periphery around him has the scattered bliss and yet he is not able to feel it. Every material of him is furnished with sorrow, he nods. And this is what he is.

He lifts up his specks hastily and tries to enchant to condole himself singing his favorite.

“Every morning whirls up in your garden.
Bringing your dreams in the wreath of flower.
Just vague and vain for me.
It comes bringing me, sorrows in solitude.”

Aakash speeds up. Up the horizon he notices clouds swaying. The black hue in these water pots relates – “It’s about to rain”. Yet the orange shadow in the dark sky hints a joyful lining and optimism. Uncertain, he accelerates his pace through the dark streets and finally reaches to a house surrounded by garden.

He knocks at the door. “Sandesh are you there?” Aakash calls up in a feeble voice.

“Are you there Sandesh? There you? Sandesh!”

“Who’s there?” a women voice inquires.

“I’m Aakash, aunty?”

“Oh! Aakash Babu. Come in. Sandesh is in his room,” she opens the door.

“Well long time no see. Where had you been?” she enquires in a gentle voice.

“Aunty I was busy in my studies. Quite after a long time, I am here” he replies.

“How isyour dad and mum? Where are they? ” She alters her tone as if she sympathizes.

“They are excellent aunty,” Aakash hastens his response.

My motto: One step ahead, everyday.

By: Raj Basyal

Khushi: In the line of sorrows

It’s me

It’s me. Yea! This is me.

I am the essence of life. The peace, patience and the poise, which I share through my blue appearance, is what I stand for. I, the symbol of vastness and enormity, have enveloped this world for million years. My job is to give life in breath. It would be better be known, who I am. Yep! I am the sky.

Yes, I am the beginning and the end. Every living matter needs space and I am the void. You need me every second, I know. Take me in and out to vigour your life. I furnish life and so I am the existence. Yep! I am the sky.

I am the life and the death. I monitor lives from this horizon. No doubt, I am to witness and safeguard it.

Each second I am there with your life, I get it closely knowing its causes, characters and psyche. I am rightly the integral part of your emotions. I am the emptiness where gravitation, attraction, distraction and induction of human emotions take place. Yes, I am the sky.

So can I be the narrator of a life? Yes! You would approve, I know.

Today, from within your proximity, I am telling about the existence, emotions and sentiments. I will detail you about Aakash, a name that reminds me of myself. His happiness and anguish, wants and desires, success and failure, simplicity and evilness is what you will comprehend.

I have watched this boy. He was happy when he was within me and not borne. Thereafter, I have always seen him wrapped in grieves. He knows no happiness. I lament being his custodian.

Now, be ready to hear what is happening to this young mans life.

By: Raj Basyal

My motto: One step ahead, everyday.

Synopsis- Khushi: In the line of sorrows

Dear friends,

I, Raj Basyal, am going to publish my first written novel "Khushi: In the line of sorrows" through this blog. I hope for your encouragement, reviews and healthy critics.

'I am a little child looking for nothing but happiness.' - Aakash

Khushi: In the line of sorrows 

Foreword

It was the year 2002 when I was a fresh high school graduate and had joined BSc. Microbiology at the Tri-Chandra College, Kathmandu Nepal. I had written few songs, poems, 2 science fictions and a short story. I was thinking about the prospect of writing a script so that I could tell stories as a filmmaker.

I thought about this story of teenage turbulence and the boy named Aakash who is in the quest for nothing but Khushi (Nepali word), the happiness. I was a science student and English is not my native language. My vocabulary and comprehensions were mediocre. I had studied Grammar English in High School which seems insufficient for literature English. But anyway, I ventured into this unknown territory of writing a novel cum script not in my native language Nepali but English.

Writing three years, from 2002 to 2005, I finished the first draft of a 42 page novelette named Khushi ^खुशी: In the Line of Sorrows. To tell you the truth, the content of the 1^st draft was deemed OK for me but the language was very coarse and lacked any definite style. I was young and confident and had sustained some visual elements in this 40+ page draft. So I contacted some Nepali movie producers (2005 to 2007) but the meetings didn’t materialize. I gave it to a publication house (2007) but returned with a note to brush the content and language.

I had lost all the hope around this little effort by the year 2009. And all of sudden in the April of 2016, I started rewriting again. I had already completed my Masters Degree in Clinical Psychology, with few years of experiences as a lecturer and many years of experience as a Psychosocial Engineer, Clinical Psychologist, Therapist and Researcher. I had my own journey to backup my efforts.

The rationale behind rewriting is I wanted to share my knowledge about the beauty of life to the common people. There are already as many philosophers, scientists, authors, engineers, doctors and entrepreneur in this world but a common man understands their endeavor through simple stories crafted with the backdrops of history, contemporary society, politics and the individual liberty.

The story, set in the year 1999, trails up to the April of year 2000. This boy Aakash is in his journey for Happiness and Love in the backdrop of a broken family, a country at civil conflict, his volatile adolescence and one major academic assessment at stake, the SLC. The whole journey of turbulence is narrated in the winter-spring of the year 2000.

As an aspirant script writer, I have applied efforts to blend visual poetry in the novel through prose poetry, use of colours and descriptive scenario. The theme is gloomy but the colours are bright. Every chapter resonates like a short story. The characters are intended to be young adults but are way more intelligent. They are little less than adults. The novel is especially aimed at middle grade students to adults and even elders but has a universal appeal.

I am Raj Basyal from Nepal. A Psychosocial Engineer; I have been a storyteller, filmmaker, athlete, microbiology graduate and Lecturer of Psychology. Apart from Short Stories, Science Fictions, Songs, Poems, Course Books and this Novel (debut) I also have written a script - Fight Klub: भटमास, चिउरा, सेकुवा.

I am 37 and have done my Masters in Clinical Psychology (2007) from the Tribhuvan University, Nepal.

Synopsis

Khushi खुशी: In the Line of Sorrows (2017, Raj Basyal)

The story is set in winter-spring of the year 2000 but there are flashbacks. The backdrop is provided by many interweaving short stories.

                                                                                                                                                    

Even though the story has been told through the point of view of Aakash, the protagonist and the sky (meaning Aakash), as the narrator, the center of the drama is the story itself. Aakash is present here as the observer, narrator, offender and the victim of this conflicting home called "Pratap Kuti" where Rajesh Pratap and Seema Devi are his father and mother.

The alleged love marriage between Rajesh and Seema has not taken its momentum even after 20 years of marriage. They brawl everyday and it is Aakash to suffer. Although they live in the same house, they are physically and emotionally separated. The conflict at home has brought an emotional and spiritual vacuum his life. Love and happiness has been in his priority since long. He finds them outside his home but not in his life. Like any other teenagers he also fantasizes for an ideal family and caring and loving parents. He is eventually frustrated. He has grown to be an insecure person.

But while in the tenth grade in the school, in the year 1999, he sets a new outlook for life. He knows that sorrows have no beginning but sure have an end. He sets his quest for nothing but happiness.

He changes his school. As suggested by his best friend Sandesh, Aakash tries to be more optimistic. During this period he finds that life to be a beautiful game to play if we are able to lead it, otherwise when life leads us it’s just a nightmare.

The history, contemporary society, politics and the civil war has weaved many short stories and characters in the backdrop of the story. His friends are rebel, addicts, poets who project many faces of their growing to adulthood. Aakash is good at studies and is also an upcoming poet and musician.

Jhapate Dai, the butler of their aristocratic house, was the one who inculcated good virtues and humanistic presence in the life neglected by his own parents. He was like a father to him. The worst is this guardian has died leaving him to care for self. His best friend Sandesh Regmi, the other mentor and emotional support, is killed in a traffic accident in the first day of year 2000.

His life takes a turn; he fall for drug addiction. He experiences life in many forms and colours amidst four months left for his school leaving examination.

As the story progresses Aakash finds himself among many other stories of teenage turbulences. He friends are frustrated with their existence. They have attempted suicides. They are drowned in failed relationships. They are addict, they are rebellious. They are the victim of undesired pregnancies, abuses, depression, many types of addiction, confusion. Though they are not in warring zone but their present is marred by the Maoist Conflict (1996-2006.)

They also have the opportunity to assemble their life for better prospect but deny the prospect. There are many incidents in the neighbour which also impact his psyche.

These jumbles of untoward events escalate his dependency on drugs. He stops his search for eternal happiness, peace and starts to hunt for dope. He enters a circle of lads who are frustrated and destructive.  Due to his addiction many of his friends, schoolmates and neighbour rejects his company. Aakash walks aimlessly to meet people of different walks of life. He encounters their stories, wisdom and acknowledges that though wisdom is two dimensional, life is three dimensional. He understands the past of Mira, Sandesh's wife. He finds the cause to runaway kids. He concludes that he has a better life than theirs. He sees many reasons quitting drugs but there is no one to lend him emotional support required to unlearn those habits.

A series of event concludes. He is finally determined to kill to erase this long sufferings and unhappiness.

What happens thereafter is for you to read.

Khushi ^खुशी: In the Line of Sorrows (2017, by Raj Basyal)

Word count: 195000 +

Pages: 850+ Approximately (until revised)

Genre: Young Adult fiction/ Teenage Turbulence-Sociodrama/ Family Saga

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Synopsis By: Raj Basyal

Alone, in search of love

The candle in my hand,
And,
I alone in search of love.
Hey! Hey!
The candle in my hand,
And I alone in search of love

Never in life,
I couldn’t ever get a moment of love,
Ever and gain, then and now,
I am searching it, searching it.
The candle in my hand,
And I alone in search of love.

On a dark stormy night, With a candle in my hand,
Marching forward and ahead,
In search of love,
Hey! Hey! Hey! Alone in search of love.
The candle in my hand.

A thrashing wind came,
Blew off my candle,
Lead me to complete darkness,
Again I lost my love.
The candle in my hand,
And I alone in search of love.

By: Raj Basyal

My Nepal, My pride

It was a Sunday.
But wasn’t a sunny day.
I was marching towards my hills.
My peaks and my greenery.
It’s my country.
My Nepal, My pride.

Whistling, the wind welcomed me.
The Dalbergia, the Pine bowed low at me.
Releasing its fragrance, the Rhododendron said hello.
The peak smiled at me.
It’s my country.
My Nepal, my pride.

There were many queries to be asked.
There were many answers to be given.
Suddenly, a deep silence amongst the nature.
I was startled.
Why?
Was my first query.

Deep, deeper and deepest silence.
And at once there was a chorus.
We are destroyed, we are being destroyed.
Save us.
Will you compensate us?Was their first query.

Nothing more to question, nothing to answer.
There was determination, there was compensation, I have to pay.
Quickly I marched backward.
For my determination, their happiness, their appeal.
To the crowd, to where I belong.
My Nepal, my pride.

By: Raj Basyal

The Poor

I was walking aside,
With my two friends besides.
I saw a poor lying helpless in the street,
I was shocked when I saw him without his feet.

He was asking for the alms,
And was crying for penny.
I felt pity on him,
And gave his some money.

I asked him his history,
With a mournful face he told me his story.
Blown up his feet in second Great War,
Far and far.


Though he had done a lot for them,
Now he is living like a tame.
I desired I could do some for him,
And be an animal like man.

By: Raj Basyal

A Nightmare

“You are at existence, you are at nightmare.”

Trin… trin. It was just three o’clock in the morning and I alerted myself from a profound sleep on listening the irksome telephone call.

I took the receiver. A female voice guided me. The women requested me to come to the Peoples Hospital. She said that Trishna was waiting for me at ward no. 12, bed no. 204, and then there was off connection.

I was dumbfounded with this information. After a long span of time Trishna had connected me and this was rush moment she called. A cold chill ran through my spine. As she wanted to meet me at the Peoples Hospital, I sensed a horrible accident.

Quickly I dressed up and took my car keys. In no time I embarked in my car to the destiny, Peoples hospital, New Road, ward no. 12, bed no. 204.

***

In my memory lane there recalled the past. It was about twelve years ago, when I was in class nine. I came from a village to the town for the secondary education. I used to live in a rented room near my school and my father used to send me money to arrange for my food, school fees, house rent and accessories. One of my cousins used to accompany me in the room.

I was an introvert boy and was form the village. So none accompanied me in the class. I was alone. But two to three after my first day in class appeared a cheerful, joy-making girl Trishna. She was tall, much taller than me and full grown than me.

When she saw me, at once she came near me and introduced herself. She said she wished to be my friend. I answered positive because she seemed so joyful and was who truly wanted to be my pal.

***

Days passed and we were best friends. She told me everything about her family and I too did. She called me ‘Bhai’ meaning brother and I too respected her as my own elder sister. Thus we had a brother- sister relations.

She had got one problem. She had got two sisters and no brother. She approached many so-called brothers but she was frustrated with them as they acted as brother only to be nearer to her smaller sisters. She hated those ‘Bhais’ but I assured her that I would be a true brother. I promised that I would ever be a brother to her sisters.

Thus we were very- very close like a family. I visited their home timely. In Tihar, I was invited and they put Tika on my forehead and a garland of love. They were very happy to get a new brother. Thus in many ways our relation had grown stronger day by day.

Once it so happened that I had no money to pay for my fees. In the mean time I had to fill up the SLC form. My father hadn’t sent me money because he had been to India. The situation was that, no money wastage of a year and probably wastage of life. But at the mean time my dear sister knew about this and she requested her father to pay for my fees and accessories. He did it. I was very grateful for Trishna and her family.

“ A trouble full of day will make you know about yourself and your friends.”

***

After SLC we had to depart. I was to go to India for my higher studies. Trishna and her family were very sad as I was parting out from their company. Tears rolled down their eyes and when they bid me bye at the airport I couldn’t resist my eyes too.
“ We depart, but our destiny is the same, a mouthful of smile.”

***

At once I landed to the present from the memories of my past. I drove as fast as I could. I was in a rush to reach the hospital.

When I reached the hospital I hastily searched the way for ward no. 12. It was I.C.U. Outside the ward a woman was sobbing. A painful chill again ran through my spine. I entered the ward and saw the bed for which I was there. In the bed, there was Trishna. I approached her and saw her eyes wide open. I felt her forehead. It was extremely cold. I was shocked, she was there dead.

I was shattered. I thought it was just a nightmare but it wasn’t. My dear sister was not in the world. My heart urged me to weep.

Instantly, I heard a child weep and he was put in the bed asides Trishna’s bed. I came out of the room. The sobbing woman handed me a letter written as follows;

Dear brother,
A last farewell toast to you from your grieved sister. Time is very short for me and I have tried to acquaint you in short.

I thought life was cherish, full of fun and enthusiasms. Its true, but for those who can struggle, who can overcome the life and who can segregate the pride. Brother, I tried. I struggled with life but I could not overpower it. It dragged me instead of I to drag the life.

When I married him first, I thought I was to heaven. I got a lot of love and affection from him. He was my choice and he was my love. But it was just instantaneous. Bed of roses has thorns in them. Its true we fade away with love like we fade away with sugar. An acute misunderstanding aroused between us. We didn’t know who did mistake and who was arrogant but we quarreled and quarreled. We didn’t try to solve the misunderstanding, kept on continuing our pride. Finally we estranged.

At the time we divorced, I was pregnant. After six month I came to know that he committed suicide in grief of separation. He wrote me that in his last letter. I was much disturbed with this fact and frustrated with life too. I thought of committing suicide but for the sake of our sign of love, our baby who is in my womb, I dumped the idea. I think I will not live much. I am very weak and have got no enthusiasm for life. I just long for eternity with him. So brother I beg you to look after my baby after my death. I am sure you will keep the words of your poor sister.
Never mind but let not a single drop of tear to roll down your eyes seeing my corpse. I know the selfish world won’t respect it. Adieu.

Yours sister
Trishna

***

Janeharu gaisake, jiuineli sahara deu
Choto cha you jeevan, aaphulie kinara deu. (Read in Nepali)

Let those leave who have gone,
Give support to those who live,
The life is very short,
Bank it.

***

Dedicated to my brothers.


By: Raj Basyal

Wasana: My fragrance

You can’t compel me to love you again.
I will love you if I will,
I wont if I don’t.
Wasana, hey Wasana.

Everyone points me as mystery.
They are blind, they don’t know,
The worse you created in my history.
Wasana, hey Wasana.

Rama had seen you compelling me to love.
Jesus had seen you attracting me with your fragrance.
Oh, my Buddha had seen you deceiving me.
Wasana, hey Wasana.

Ah, you can’t compel me to love again.
Coz you fear with shame.
And oh my fragrance, you fear with my name.
Wasana, hey Wasana.

By: Raj Basyal

Love, Play and The Hunters

In my sixteen,
On the stage of love,
Directed by her fragrance,
For a play,
For a supposed love,
I entered merrily.
But vain,
It was just the huntings of feelings.
We are all hunters of feelings.
Love, play and we the hunters
Love, play and we the hunters.

By: Raj Basyal

Your Roses and My Love

Your Roses and My Love

Thanks for your roses, you gave,
And thanks for the thorn in it.
It will ever remind me of you,
And,
It will remind me of a trance.

Tears of love don’t cause sorrow,
They become pearls.
But why can’t I shed tears for you?
My past,
Why don’t I love you?

Packets of envy and pride in you,
Let not me love you, my love.
Still I will hate you with love,
My rose, I will thrash you with flowers,
My past, I will hate you with love.

By: Raj Basyal

GENETIC BOMB

Hey wanna ask me questions? Don’t; I have got no time .Eh, uh, hey! I’m busy, don’t bother me yaar. I’m on my job. Know me? I'm a glass from a distant country. Must you know my job? Yeah, yeah. I’m the reflecting one, a mirror. It has been thirty years since I have been clanged to this wall. To say, I know all the humdrum affairs, sob sniffles and rare smile of this lab. So I say you I have some sentiments on this lab, but why? You know I am a mirror, and a non-living, so why should I have such sentiments?

Must u have forgotten this old chap; why u should remember him? Abuse him. He is not to be appreciated, you say, I not. But still let me introduce him.

He is Mr. Bigyan Prasad. Hunh, do you remember him? No…o! Eh, brief introduction is not sufficient. Let me then explain him.

***

It was 2005 A.D, a foggy morning; I had seen the man with smile. Rather it was the happiest moment; I had seen the man with a blissful smile. He was romantic, knew why? He had put to an end a theory, Electron Dynamic. Late night I had seen the man drunk. Like a crazy lover he was kissing all the lab equipments, as if he was thanking those equipments. There after he approached me, saw his face and uttered, know me? In a prideful tone, he reveled; I can change soil to petrol. It’s a charisma of my theory Electron Dynamics. He added; now our country can sell petrol to Arab. Isn’t it magic? He boasted.

Wasn’t that magic? Yap.

But few days after some men in suit pierced into our lab. First of all they invited my master to work for their master; later they threatened him coz he was denying to work for them. He was shouting; he can’t betray his country; he would rather die than to give the formula. The patriot insulted those men in black. Towards the beginning of 2006 he was awarded a grand prize. Still he remained not pleased? I could see fringes of sorrows on his forehead? Why? Guess!

A month after, the lab was locked. Thereafter I was alone in the lab carrying my job as usual. People coming to know about the lab, rather say to make a fun of the lab and my master working for it, whispered that my master was made captive by the power in the horizon to seize the formula and make him work for them, which was true too. But it was rumored that he had eloped with his assistant Bivu wife. Hunh, what a great irony; a man who hated women throughout his adulthood was so accused. Ha, ha, ha its rumor that excites people here in his country. It’s worth being a non-respiring creature.

***

You know he loves and had loved this laboratory like his own child. Drunk, when romantic, he used to tell his sentiments to his assistant Bivushan, whom he called Bivu. Can be said those sentiments were for his lab, were from a true man. Drunk, once he narrated why he hated women?
It was two year after marriage with Kaushalya his brother Bishal passed away due to blood cancer. Bigyan Prasad at the time was far away in a city for his studies. He had to retreat back at sudden due to death of his beloved brother. His sister in law Kaushalya, who loved him like her own brother, was left to be a widow.

Days passed, but a sudden panic arose in the family, can be said a usual, can be said as tyranny of mother in law and sister- in -law. His mother and sister started insulting Kaushalya, they pointed out to be a cause of the death of her husband, husband killer. Soon they started giving her other physical and mental torture. Last of all the witches killed Kaushalya by burning her body with kerosene sprinkled all over her body.

Even if the beasts were punished still a fury against them in his heart let him hate all the women. He hated his mother, his sister and other women who hated other women. He kicked off them from his life coz he knew women have great instinct to kick other women from their territory.

Ha, ha, ha what a same; beasts disguised as human? It’s worth being a non-living creature. Ha, ha, ha.

***

Towards the end of the year 2006 there was third world war. Reason was one suspected; it was for land, it was for soil; it was for raw materials producing petrol. Great to name great the war was. Power in the horizon captured most of the world. The space the land and the oceans were full of red blood. Scream and shouts were the only song heard; song of tragic listened. Dead bodies were seen here and there with their beloved weeping over them. Orphans widows, and dads and mums were only the people seen juggling here and there with revengeful eyes, with wet eyes. With suffocating full smoky environments bang and boom were the only sound heard.

Actually it was war between blood thirsty Satan and blood spilling sovereign defender. But every thing had been sandwiched to beast ness; every human emotion had turned to savageness. Where were the doctrines of Lord Buddha?

At the end of 2018 the war ended. My master was freed to. He again retreated to his lab. But some questions were unanswered .Why did his dogmas surrendered? What had happened after he was kidnapped? Why is he so again keen on his researches? Has he planned something terrible? Why is he so mum? Questions unanswered.

No more Questions please. I am now to carry on my job. It’s his motion, emotions and his work full image is what I to capture.

***

Look at the 57-year-old man with his blissless eyes; an image of him full of rage. To say he does researches, but I have reflected a half part of his doings full of rage. Look how he handles the test tube, with a shaking hand, with wet eyes. Insane he is. But why he is so? Has he planned something terrible against the power in the horizon? Or he is on way for his new inventions? Might it be, might that be.

Let me now then do sketch of his work.
He has increased his pace of work. He has just taken two test tubes from a bioreactor. He is on way to intermingle these red and black solutions from them. Oh, the mixed solution comes to be pink. What is it?

Evil smile on my master face! Stop! Stop him. He is planning something terrible.

Two days have passed since his evil smile. What he had done in these 2 days I couldn't understand, truly saying. Its coz his actions, his thinking have now accelerated and hence I’m not able to amass his actions. With no same, I have to say you that, he thinks faster than the fastest reflection I do carry.

***

A thing he has done humorous. He ordered Bivu, who had brought him a small tiger cub in a cage. It's really funny, what do he intends? Is he planning to set up a zoo here in the lab?

He is now inserting a pink capsule in the loaf of flesh, which might be any of the capsules he had prepared within these 2 days. Hooked to a stick he has given the loaf to the tiger cub. See how is it munching?

Boom. Hey where from the sound came? Strange it is and it seems the sound is from next cosmos. Has some explosion taken?

Hunh, the cub is munching the bananas too. Hey am I dreaming or is it a silver screen? Must it be a ninth wonder?

Listen what my master says.
Ha, ha, ha. The genetic bomb has exploded all the savageness, all the bloodthirsty nature and made the cub a saint. Ha, ha, ha, it has deleted all its anomalies. Like way, the bomb would explode all brutal nature of man and I would then only be quenched, with the punishments given to their deadly nature. Soon it will create human race of new thinking shortage of all evil spirit.

Marvelous! What a supernatural invention is it? Its worth to be such a man, its worth being Bigyan Prasad. Ha, ha, ha.

***

By: Raj Basyal

This fiction is dedicated to my father Madhav Prasad Basyal and all the orphans of the world.

***

Be Faded With Love

It was a day after I slept with you.
You said,
I should love you ,
I should marry you.
Oh , rascal thoughts!
I only sleep with the best,
Please don't ignore me for this zest.

You reveled, you will hate me till death.
Babe don’t, say you won’t love me till death,
Coz till u hate me, you will remember me.
Love me lesser and lesser before,
Be faded with love.

I don't believe you,
You didn't love me in the past.
So your hate may be fake and pretentious,
As your heart might be cool and clean.
Babe, be faded with love.

Love me little that you don't love me.
Love me little that you don't remember me.
Love your dreams, love the drama you are involved,
Don't hate me,
Be faded with love.

I can behold the horizon,
Where you kissed me till dawn.
Babe, I can behold the grave,
Where I will rest after death.
Babe you hate me or love,
Dont fade when you rest in peace,
Aside my grave.

By:Raj Basyal