“Shradheya”, I have been trying to have this name pronounced without a difficulty for Torbias a million times.  My effort on teaching him some Nepali always seems to be ending in a loud laugh. This effort of mine trying to make Torbias actually pronounce “shradheya” is an endless struggle. 

It was Mila, my daughter’s, 3rd birthday; I learnt I am to be a mother again. Starting from those early morning sickness days, we started to jot down some name for our new one.  TBi, apple of my eyes, as a true Nepali I had shortened Torbias to TBi and he liked it.  In a process of finding a new name, TBi jotted his side of names and I scribbled some of mine. He heard me saying “Shradheya” and I thought he liked it when I uttered the word, at least by the look of it.  Despite of his and mine liking of the name “Shradheya”, it did not fit into Tbis’ palate without pricking my eardrum.  After countless number of lessons, I gave up the hope on the syllables: “shra-de-ya”.  I felt I had to compromise with Tbi for the flesh I was carrying for nine months.  When it came to naming my child, I had to think how comfortable his side of the world would be?  We explored from Alexander to Sebastian and then Krishna to Bhumidev.

 ************************************************************************************

After three years, I came home with my entire family.  TBi is always happy to come home for all the respect that he bags in here.  And, Mila loves all the attention that she gets.  Particularly, when she gets to flaunt her brother to others pointing her tiny finger to his nose and says “gunJan”.  Mila now is 5, Gunjan 3 and Tbi even a baby and always would remain one.  This holiday of mine seems like another mission that I have taken on a professional level.  Every time I have come home, as excitedly, I also end up leaving with distress and void in my heart.  Every second visit I have had for past nine years were minus the people that I have known.  Thinning out the crowd some moved aboard and others were just old souls.  

Few days into my visit, I was in the living room talking to my grandmother after delicious Nepali lunch.  She was telling me how hard it was to feed me when I was a kid.  She reminded how she used to spend the whole morning running after me to finish a bottle of milk. I gazed into her wrinkled eyes and a wave of emotions passed through me.  I held her hand and hugged her tight.  She whispered, “Dhanna yaspali timi haru charai jana lai bisancho bhaena (fortunately, none of you four got sick this time).”  I replied, “Aama, ke nai huncha ra?  Bimari bhayo nai bhane pani aausadi khane ni (nothing’s gonna happen. Even if we get sick, medicine is always there).” Guilt ran through me for putting 80 years old lady through that worry of our sickness.  Even with limited knowledge on Nepali, Tbi still understood the sentiments and he smiled. 

Days passed so quickly here in Nepal: cousins, family, friends and the food. I always end up gaining few kilos when I return home.  At times, this word “HOME” puzzles me.  Am I to conflict myself?  Which one is my actual home?  Is it where me and my family lives now or where I have grown up and is so close to my heart?  Well I packed this question for someone else to answer. 

My monologue ended with Mila’s giggle. I looked up and she was playing with red “saari”, trying to wrap her around.  She came up with her innocent query, “Mama, why can’t I wear this everyday at home?” I had to explain her, “The five feet long garment is bit too much for you to carry around everyday, princess.”  She held my index finger with her softness and said, “Mama! When we go home, you wear it everyday because I like you more that way.”  As a testimony to her innocence- I smiled. 

Those days, my parents were busy inviting friends and family for us.  Half the people I meet ask the same question over the years.  “What are you doing these days?”  Surprisingly, I never got bored of this question.  It never wore me off.  In fact, I am proud to tell that I am a stay-home mother.  I have two beautiful children and a loving husband who takes care of me.  In couple of occasions I even heard people saying “What a waste of talent!  She got a university degree and all of her certificates are food for silverfish.”  Yes, my honours and medallions hung on the walls neatly in my home here.  May be didis’ in the house cleaned them once in a while but beside that they were only shiny pieces of souvenirs for me.  My actual medals were three of them. 

My stay in Nepal was coming to the end.  One round of goodbyes was scheduled; I started hastily calling and receiving phone calls.  Also, kept telling everyone how beautiful the stay had been and I could never get enough of this place.  In the process of saying goodbye, my mom handed me a phone, “It’s your phone nanu, it’s Piyush?”  I was surprised to hear the name Piyush, how many Piyush do I know?  I asked, “Piyush who?”  My mom threw a puzzled look said, “I don’t know.  He says his name is Piyush.” I looked at TBi and he was busy with kids trying to catch some more Nepali words as Mila was proudly trying to correct him.

Contd...

 

Very well narrated story...looking forward to reading the rest soon. :-)

Don't u dare to stop this flow...,I'm telling u

Very well narrated story...looking forward to reading the rest soon -अंग्रेजी लेख्न आउँदैन, कपेर पेस्ट गरेको न भन्नु । मुटु छुने लेखाइ ।

Nice one Blur ............. waiting for the next part.........

"My actual medals were three of them"

It speaks a thousands of words itself.

As said above very well crafted story...Can't wait for the next parts...

 

Nepal ko Chora.. you know it would not have seen the light of the day if it has not been pushed. Things are to come to the end as well so lets see if I could give it a pretty closure….

 

SNA......its not easy to stop now. thanks

 

 

Serial....thank you for all the complements.  This one has only been a mere attempt to write.  Thanking you for your time.

 

 

Thuldai... its not about what you say its about how you say it.. if it comes from the bottom of your heart it touches the others. Dai do not worry about copy paste as long as I could see you around in my post :)

 

 

Ritthe... what could you say to a person who is so expressive in words. Its an honor trust me to see you in my story.

 

Yes! My actual medals were three of them. 

My stay in Nepal was coming to the end.  One round of goodbyes was scheduled; I started hastily calling and receiving phone calls.  Kept telling everyone how beautiful the stay had been and I could never get enough of this place.  In the process of saying goodbye, my mom handed me a phone, “It’s your phone nanu, it’s Piyush?”  I was surprised to hear the name Piyush, how many Piyush do I know?  I asked, “Piyush who?”  My mom threw a puzzled look said, “I don’t know.  He says his name is Piyush.” I looked at TBi and he was busy with kids trying to catch some more Nepali words as Mila was proudly trying to correct him.

“Hey!” Other person rushed before I could even utter a word, as if he recognized my breath.

I said “Hej…”

With a dash of an excitement in his voice, he whispered, “Welcome home or is it already time for me to bid you a farewell?”

I laughed and said, “Ough my god!! Is that you?”

“You!!!!”  he laughed.

With that call, I excused myself to the other room. By the time I came out of the conversation, Tbi already had put children to bed and declared, “I am to reconfirm the ticket for Saturday.”  That meant I had only 48 hrs in this town. I went mum for few seconds and then broke the silence with a whisper, “Can I stay here one more week?”  Next morning TBi and I were getting ready for the confirmation.  I slyly expressed the same that I was murmuring last night after the phone call. He look puzzled. With that look, it was not hard for me to figure out the displeasure in him as he hated when things go unplanned.

Since the day our eyes met, he has almost been a calendar to me.  His punctuality, his skill on organizing schedule, if I sum him up, he is a true “time machine”.  His packing skill is one of the many things that I fell in love without giving it a second thought. Knowing how he will feel within, I still dared to tell him of my plans of extending the stay. 

I suggested that I would keep Gunjan with me and Mila could go home with TBi. The nanny and he could share the responsibility of baby-sitting for couple of hours every day and it was only a question of a week anyways. With the hesitancy, he agreed on my travel plans, even though I could clearly see the displeasure. On 21 Aug 2010, TBi and Mila left for Madrid.   

Half hour of their departure, I dialled 98510...err what was that?  789 and the other two digits. 

“Hey!” the voice on the other end uttered, “I am so glad that you are still around. I am honoured that you took my offer.” Furthermore he added “I will come pick you up for dinner. There is a lot to catch up.” 

 A quick question, on top of my head, I threw “what happened to the girl you were dating?” 

A loud laugh cracked and he announced “I will be at your doorstep at 6.30. Just be ready.”  There was a busy tone before I could say anything.

Thousand of questions loomed in my head.  How he must have been?  What happened after college?  Where did he go?  What about his study?  Where is he settled now?  What are his future plans?  What happened to his parents who were already in their mid 60’s when I went aboard?  With all these questions, I also recalled he was always addressed “Piyush Babu” in his family.  Hurriedly I powdered my nose to make sure I looked the best after all these nine years.  I even doubted my intention.

A loud honk of a car interrupted my thoughts.  I opened the gate, stepped into his car and our eyes met after 16 years.  He smiled and said, “You have not changed at all.” I thanked for the compliment.  Our vehicle left for the unknown destination.  In about 20 min of our drive he stopped his car in front of Sanchayakosh Complex in Thamel and we walked through the busy street of Thamel.  Street vendors came around to make me buy some curio items and he kept laughing on how “bideshi” (foreign) I looked.  Although the streets were bizarre and crowded, we arrived the cosiest restaurant I have come across in recent time. We chose a table by the window.  The smell of the fresh flowers and candles obviously added a beauty to the evening.  While I was browsing the decor, he ordered food for us and a bottle of French wine.  I was amazed that he could still remember I was allergic to certain kind of food.  The dinner was lovely. I guess I missed that alone time after three kids, the third one being one of the busiest investment bankers in Madrid, my husband.  I did not realize how fast the time had passed by.  Most of my questions remained in a question mark itself.  We were too busy laughing on petty jokes cracked.  All of my questions were answered in his weird sense of humor: “Sanskriti, who would spend her life with me?  Why do you think I am still single?”  We laughed again.  I looked at the watch and it was almost mid night.  He caught me while I was looking at my watch and singled out to the waiter for the bill.  He said, “I hate to see you worried. I hated then and I realize I hate it even now. I think I shall head you home.” 

 For the first time, I did not tell my parents where I was. 

 

To be continued ………

simply awesome, loved the flow

one small request. Can I expect the next part some time soon, say within day or two. I hate to wait for  weeks. You know what I mean.

"Serial" is absolutely right. I do not like to wait for a long long time either..
The story is going great.. Hope to read the next part soon..

Serial and Cheli,

Thank you both for the peek on the story and most importantly leaving a word or two for the encouragement.. I need to apologize for taking long to complete the story.  But here I am…

For the first time, I did not tell my parents where I was.  When I came home, Gunjan was already asleep. I checked with mom if he was a trouble.  “Your children are always very well behaved.  Both of them are never a trouble.  You guys have done a good job so far”, she assured.  With a cup of black tea, I also went back to bed trying to soak in the feeling of TBi and Mila leaving and my dinner.

Next four days just passed by faster than I could actually imagine, mostly talking to Piyush and his updates.  He had become an architect, learnt that he had been travelling a lot but still single. We were having coffee one day when he coyly uttered, “My parents still talk about you a lot” avoiding our eye contacts. Hours would pass in seconds and at times jokingly he would say, “Sanskriti, I missed out on you!!!”  And, just to end it in a lighter note, we both would laugh.  My craving to stay few more days after 28th seemed to be more appetizing.  The frequency of me having tea with Piyush increased in this one week.  I realized how easy it was to talk in Nepali about the emotions.  I felt nice not to think of translation of some Nepali words, finding it in English and then translate in my head in Spanish.  Suddenly I started finding flaws in what I had thought was my perfect life. 

Just to make my life comfortable, TBi already reconfirmed my ticket to Madrid on 28th August and it was already 26th.

That night when I was trying to put Gunjan to bed, the phone rang.  I picked it up and the voice on the other end said, “Mama…”

I answered,”Hey beautiful, how have you been? Where is your Faa?”

She totally ignored me and requested, “Mama, could you please put Bhai on the phone?  I miss Bhai. Can you come home now?” 

I was startled by my babe’s concern. I hastily put the ear piece in Gunjan’s ear and he with the sweetest accent said, “didi..didi.” 

I tried to say something but Mila was so indulged with Gunjan, calling her “Didi” and she kept saying Bhai!!!!!! I asked her if I could speak to her Father.  She put me through to him.  The chilled emotion ran through me.  I confirmed with TBi that I would be landing on the morning of 29th August.  He, in his usual self assured me things were okay and asked me to take care.  As I hung up the phone, I sprang out of bed and started my packing.

Throughout the packing of one suit case to another I asked myself, why did I ask for one more week?  Was it only to forget who I crafted myself as?  Was I tired of my mundane life, as most of my cousin and friends reckon or was I just being adventurous?  Was my childhood fling (yes I admit) was so strong that I wanted to know more beside those marvellously sparkling eyes, beside those childhood mockery and mischief?  Why was I so keen to know Piyush now?  What excuse do I have to put my three of the babes aside and walk with him for some miles?  Was I trying to tell myself how vulnerable I was?  Whatever it was, I made up my mind.

She totally ignored me and requested, “Mama, could you please put Bhai on the phone?  I miss Bhai. Can you come home now?” 

I was startled by my babe’s concern. I hastily put the ear piece in Gunjan’s ear and he with the sweetest accent said, “didi..didi.” 

I tried to say something but Mila was so indulged with Gunjan, calling her “Didi” and she kept saying Bhai!!!!!! I asked her if I could speak to her Father.  She put me through to him.  The chilled emotion ran through me.  I confirmed with TBi that I would be landing on the morning of 29th August.  He, in his usual self assured me things were okay and asked me to take care.  As I hung up the phone, I sprang out of bed and started my packing.

Throughout the packing of one suit case to another I asked myself, why did I ask for one more week?  Was it only to forget who I crafted myself as?  Was I tired of my mundane life, as most of my cousin and friends reckon or was I just being adventurous?  Was my childhood fling (yes I admit) was so strong that I wanted to know more beside those marvellously sparkling eyes, beside those childhood mockery and mischief?  Why was I so keen to know Piyush now?  What excuse do I have to put my three of the babes aside and walk with him for some miles?  Was I trying to tell myself how vulnerable I was?  Whatever it was, I made up my mind.

For the last time, I scheduled to meet Piyush.  This time I got my driver to drive me to his work.  I entered Annapurna Arcade then walked through the long hallway, which felt like the longest walk of my life.  Entered into a room lavishly decorated, flat screen hung in the walls of the office, Gold stroke - Thanka Painting on the other on a pure white background.  It was hard for me to tell if that office was really in Kathmandu with very neatly stacked books, the spread out designs of the new town plans and miniature models of different metropolitan cities around the globe.  He excitedly showed me around.  Half hour seemed almost a day standing in that office.  At the end, I summoned my courage, “Excuse me. I have to get out of here.”  He stood up and held his jacket and said, “Let’s go then.” We walked to the door, I uttered, “Piyush, thank you for being a friend.  It’s me who needs to get out of here, not you.”  He looked at me, confused, concerned but yet a considerate friend.  I left him in the lobby and walked out, my head held up half high.  Thousand times I thought I will look back but then kept walking straight out of the hallway to the corridors and in no time I was in middle of Durbarmarg. 

On 28th at 1230 hrs, I was to catch the flight.  I kept looking at the phone if there were any missed calls but there were none. I held Gunjan on one arm and bid a farewell to my Granny who had tears every time I spoke to her for past 3 days. She uttered, “Tan arko pali aaunda ma hunchu ya hunna.  Ramrari talai herna de (I am not sure if I will be around when you visit next time. So, let me look at you as much).”  I shushed her “aama, ma jahile aaunda pani hajur hunu huncha.  Nachahini kura nagari na (you will be around every time I come home. Stop the nuisance).” she held Gunjan in her arms, kissed him in his forehead and slid Rs. 100 note on his forehead.  Mom did the same and so did my cousins. Finally, I bowed down to my granny, hiding my tears as I said “gayera aaunchu hai, aama, (I will be back soon).”  She smiled and waved her tiny wrinkled hands but still longing to see me in next time.  Then, we all headed to Tribhuvan International airport. 

With a few hours stopover in Bangkok, my flight arrived in Madrid 730 next morning. No sooner did I pass the immigration, my eyes searched for some familiar faces, in a distant I spotted TBi holding Mila’s hand.  He took huge steps towards me.  He seemed to forget that Mila was holding his finger.  I still had Gunjan in my arms.  TBi came and wrapped me around.  His hug came as a warm Cashmere blanket around me.  Most comfortable hug I could ever recall as if that one wrap was trying to say: you belong to me. 

We withdrew ourselves from the hug and he whispered, “Sanskriti, Did you have a good time?” His impeccable pronunciation of my name made me fall for him one more time.

I looked up into his deep blue eyes and uttered “No, babe I missed you.” 

Four of us slowly walked out of Barajas airport into our world. This is where I call my home.

 

******* The end ********

3 September 2010

Madrid

Thanks for your read... appriciate it.

A nice story, indeed! Very well narrated...look forward to reading more stories from you in coming days. :-)

Awesome !!!! Very well written...

Well written - very nice -

keep writing -

An honest observation.

The title "onE morE wEEk" was such a repellent. Did you have some sort of affiliation with the letter "E"? I was expecting a tEEn story from that title, and never such a well-crafted, brilliant, thought-provoking story that sparks emotions from the reader.

I liked it too (again).