Meals In The Dark


It is a challenge to eat in the dark--especially when you disagree with the ideological reasons behind the lifeless light bulbs, motionless fans and a frail, flickering candle. The “lights out nights” are to show solidarity to the rebelling political parties; it is an imposed solidarity against the monarchy--but solidarity, nonetheless. Two years of groping in the dark solidarity for the people of Nepal, save for the nights of government imposed load shedding--the latter to conserve energy.
Ravi picks at the Basmati rice on his plate--his last meal with his family before he returns to junior year at American University, Washington DC. This is a different Ravi that sits at the table this night--a post-spring break changeling created by circumstances.
“What time is your flight, Ravi Babu?” His mother reaches over to pour some lentil curry onto his plate, her hand guided in the dark by instinct.
“No more Ma, I am done with dinner. I have to be at the airport at least three hours prior to departure time.” Ravi is reluctant to divulge details--she will find out that tomorrow is yet another day of party imposed “chakka jaam”--no vehicles allowed on the roads. Those who dare venture out, are likely to be stoned by party demonstrators who’ve called on the “jaam.” It is better if she hears about it from the radio--a neutral source. Ma has enough to contend with; rheumatism has deformed all but one last finger on her left hand, but she needs to know about Dev. He must tell her before he leaves.
“We leave at daybreak tomorrow Ma. There is a chakka jaam, A friend will drop us off in his security van.” Dev, Ravi’s older brother, informs without looking at her.
“What? Chakka jaam again! Dev Babu, this friend is not mixed up with the demonstrators, is he? I know, students in your college are against the king. Just stay off the streets, please!” Ma reaches over the table with sudden urgency; her shadow flickers, ghostly in its length stretched across the table. Their shadows touch and merge even if their physical bodies do not. At another time, seventeen years ago, Ma had uttered the same warning to her husband, now deceased. She fears the worst for her sons--one studying in America and the other, precariously balanced between political idealisms and a desire to study medicine.
Two Saturdays ago, Dev had picked Ravi up in a dilapidated old taxi which lurched around potholes and honked its way through a slogan chanting rabble--youth who’d discarded their books for placards.

“Look at them! A bunch of bums, wasting time and resources of the tax payers--they should all be locked up.” Ravi was irritated at the crowd which showed no sign of dispersing.
“Sir, I would be careful, if I were you. These are peaceful demonstrators who seek justice from the government.” The cabby twisted the rear view mirror and glared at Ravi in the back seat.
“Well, slogan chanting and throwing stones is not going to help them, is it? Why don’t they storm the palace? In the US, where I live, discontents demonstrate in front of White House--no human road blocks, no chaos--it’s all very civilized.” He ignored Dev’s warning hand on his sleeve.
“Bhai,” The cabby, a young man with curly hair, in his twenties, turned around and addressed Dev, “Tell your brother, people in America are not fighting price hikes of rice, sugar, oil; lack of drinking water, energy load shedding--you name it. Yes, if we could, we’d be planning a brilliant future too!” His stress on the English word “future,” indicated some level of education--perhaps, he was a student himself, with no choice but to drive for his meager meal of rice and watery lentil soup.
He slowed the car as he passed a small band of moving placards and turned to Ravi, “Bhai, you’ll find out soon enough!”
“Do you know the schedule for blackout nights? I have to study for my medical exams.” Dev changed the subject but kept a warning eye on Ravi.
“Trust me, you won’t be studying much at night; you might as well burn those books for fuel!” Cabby commented wryly.
Ravi shrugged and looked out of the window--one bushy brow arched over dark brown eyes and an aquiline nose which flared at any hint of irritation. His lips, while thicker than Dev’s, were quick to smile and bordered on the sensual--a “chick magnet” as he accidentally discovered in college.
The cab dipped, narrowly missing a meditative cow chewing its cud, oblivious to the approaching crowd and traffic. A young girl (probably, 15 years old) sat on the broken sidewalk while another of similar age with a sleeping baby tied onto her back, braided her hair with red rags. Life went on as usual; Kathmandu was in a time warp--girls were still married off at a young age like they were a hundred years ago; Ravi wouldn’t have known the difference.

-------------To Be Continued--------------

What's Dev's duality? He lied to his mom. He has a belief, he was following that and was trying to hide from his mom.

"another day he watched a spider devour a butterfly. " This is the best line in the story . For me, it means a lot. I look for such stuff in story.

Story is good but I didn't see you in the story. I love to read author in stories or any prose. This comment sounds abstract. Sorry, I can't make it simpler.

Tantalizing as it has been always! I see people coming back slowly.

Welcome back Sitara.:)

Hi Nepaali,

Thank, as always, kind comments. How are your studies going on--taking any summer classes? Mine is done till Fall.

Pasu, Sorry, couldn't find "animal font" ;) Thanks for visiting though.

Sunnydev, thanks for the candid comments. I agree with; you won't find "Me" in the story. I wrote this piece for my Writing Class--this, staying within rigid guidelines (a complete short story within 2000 words; a protagonist with conflicting choices; real time of 2 hrs or less.... and so on). I appreciate your comment on the spider-butterfly reference (metaphoric perhaps).

Hi Flipflop,

Long time sweetie. How have you been? Thanks for your welcome. New faces, new fonts, new people, all embelished with ads cleverly camoflaged in the thread's content.

Nepaali, where is that charming globe-trotting-footsie-playing-witty-erudite Lahure friend of ours? Dark horse isn't he (shhhhhhhhhh----hope fully, he'll reappear a huffin' an' a puffin' at the adjectives !!!;)

It's great story despite those circumstances. Danfe was great. I had read you through Mina. I could feel you on other characters as well. I want to know you better through your writing.

Remember, you have promised to show us the contemporary Nepal through your eyes and soul.

Thanks SunnyDev, my other writings have been more passionate in terms of characterization. You are very observant and I am honored that you take the time. I have "promised" and I aspire to keep it. :)

Sitara,

Darshan!!!

One of the things that make you very special is your ability over others in capturing microscopic details of a moment. The choice of words make it even more extraordinary. I have always read your proses agape, bowled over by the potpourri of pertinent lexis, which could not have been put in a better way.

Welcome back.

Damn, when John explains stuff, i have to look up the worlds in the dictionary ALL THE TIME.
Nice story. Loved it. Ma pani story lekhum lekhum bhaneko, khai time nai paudina!!!!

It waS tOO loNg.. so I didn'T reaD it!

Hi John,

Thank you--I couldn't quite swallow your compliments though; everytime I revisit a story (I've written), I usually find something to improve upon. How have you been? Ready for the summer?

Thanks, Time Traveller! Galt's anecdotes make me reach for the dictionary and Czar's make me reach for the encyclopaedia--But guess what, I've noticed it does not kill you! :)


Naam Nai Bhetina ji, to quote a famous Sajha quote (and I forget who said it...Parmendra?), "This Honey, is not your bag of cheerios!" Sorry, I don't carry your brand. :)

i like it...short and sweet....you put in lotsa stuff despite the constraints on time and space.

Sitara

A subtle change in your genre; a good twist. It was an interesting read, but what's funny is that I was plotting a similar story where one brother returns his village after serving few years in armed force (still in service), to meet his mother and his brother; only to encounter his own brother as the red army. But I couldn't made it as eloquent and interesting as your piece.
I liked the narration part also; the climax just takes off and keeps on throwing curves.
A good story after a while in Sajha.
Aru jawos.

"His stress on the English word 'future,' indicated some level of education--perhaps, he was a student himself, with no choice but to drive for his meager meal of rice and watery lentil soup."

students in america work their butt off too no? i don't know about others... but i did... 10 hrs a day of miserable work for less than 10 dollars an hour for my meager meal of ham burger and fries. and we always hear fun stories from ocean city every summer. working 15 hrs. a day eating same old shit everyday smoking pot and queuing up to bang polish and russian chicks ;) in a double bed apartment shared with 15 others.

our taxi driver perhaps is not different. life is hard for poors all over the globe.

First, I don't know how this ended up in the humor section--San, having problem with your funny bone--can you imagine a malfunctioning funny bone! :P

Zalim Singh, thanks. That you noticed the complexity in the content, means much.

DWI, simliar thoughts eh? Nice, I'd like to read yours sooooooooon. I miss your stories too.

hyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, it is interesting that you draw such parallels between fiction and reality--food for thought. Thank you for your comments.

Sitara -

Very nice piece. Well written. Your reference to an "aquiline nose" reminded me of Samrat Upadhyay's "The Royal Ghosts" - he too has used that phrase to describe lots of noses in that book :).

Although, as I imgaine, this is fiction, there are important socio-political conclusions people can draw from the story and you have done a great job piecing the two together.

Great stuff - keep it up!

sitara jyu!!!:oD hehe..

anyways guess wat..today when me fren was recountin his tales of nepal...and he mentioned his experience of 'load sheddin' ..i felt like i knew about nepal too ;o)..duh!!!someone mentioned it here and 'educated' me?;o) hehe..

bholi herum ke suncha..lookn foward to that ;o)..for now..wont comment much(control?;oP hehe)..nice to see ur back?;o) hehe..longer visit this time?;oP hehe..

anymore comin soon?btw..this thot just came...any idea where confused bro is?:oS u remember him?he wasnt ur bro tho ;oP hehe

good day :oD..

Sajha Gazer, Gurlu, Annoymous,

I appologize profusely; it has been ages since I last visited Sajha. I appreciate your taking the time to read and comment. Sajha Gazer, you know, I've never read anything of Samrat Upadhyaya...it is pathetic... but I haven't gotten to it yet.

Well, now that I am on my way to KTM... perhaps, I can take the time to absorb the ambience of what it means to be back home.

Have a lovely summer all of you!

Sitara

sitara dijju....darshan

thanks for a nice read...when is the next one due? ;)

loote

Kya jhundyai de ra ...

Helpless
Like the dews slipping through
The leaves
Nothing to stop
Wind swings by mercilessly
The Sun rises
There will be more dews - tomorrow!

Hi Lootekukur--I love your nick as it gives visuals of morning walks--being chased by gangs of loote kukurs. :) thank you for reading.

Darshan hajur Deep ji; I haven't left you hanging sire, the story has been completed--if you kilick on it. :P

Like a thread of of cobweb,
I'd string those dewy beads
Into a strand of pearls
To welcome another dawn.

:)