पार्टी थ्यो दाई
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"भोली बिदा छ, पार्टी गर्ने हैन त केटा हो आज?". The voice was real enough to make my eyes open.
It was already dusk and I thought it would be not so bad idea since I was free for next 36 hrs
.after realizing that my dish washing duty in campus cafeteria was on halt due to possibility of
heavy snowfall that evening. And, I immediately remembered myself concluding my final remark
in that farewell party in Nepal ‘अब अर्को पटक चाइ उतै गएर लडौनि हो’. So, it was my ultimate chance
to turn that vow into reality.
"अरु लाई नी आउन दे न एक्कै छिन ", I was already amused by the proposal itself. The rest was up to
my other good fellas. Within next half hrs, all the delegates aka my roomies upon their arrival
made a final seal in agreement with no possibility of veto whatsoever. However, the guy A
seemed little worried, “मैले त नेपालमा नी लड़ा छैन.....”. "च्याउ खा छस् ?", guy C pulled him over
before he could complete his sentence. He assured guy A that taste of beer is somewhat
similar to that of Mushroom when tasted for the first time by any novice drinker as if he had
already mastered that whole culinary thing. “तेसै पनी अम्रिकन बियर मा लेख्न लाई मत्तै हाल्या हुन्छ
अल्कोल “, guy D also uttered his ‘Bhatti’ experience of his ‘Chhyang’ days supporting guy C. But
the beer store does not open on Sundays. "के गर्ने?", Guy B spoke the bitter reality of that half
Mormon town. Already excited, I was in no position to ruin the party. "मैले देख्या छु एक ठाम, स्टोर
नंबर नी था छ मलाई ", I tried to subdue the sudden melancholy boasting my expertise as if this was
my second time coming to US. But at the same time, I was little nervous due to my dubious
claim which would further ruin my credibility had I came out wrong.
So, I spent no time in making a move and there I was trying to fix the tangled shoelace of my
Nike which I had recently purchased from nearby thrift store. Tell you frankly, I had never felt
such a panicky in my life. I was not so sure the store # 247 which I claimed would sell the beer in
those wee-hours. However, I would not want to jeopardize my reputation among my fellow
party - goers. My credibility was at risk so I had to prove myself outward right.I walked and
walked to look for that hope diamond as if there was a thin link of genetics between my clan back home and the great explorer, 'Vasco De Gama'. After about twenty minutes of walking in that treacherous cold, I saw that number 247 scrolling in the dim neon light. I ran as if I had never run in my whole life and presented myself in front of that bookstore Blondie. "Howdy, good evening....", Blondie looked confused by my sudden yet awkward presence.
"Howdy to you too", my heavy Gorkhey accent interrupted her in nick of a second not that I
would have understood everything she would have to say even if I had waited. "I need that beer
myaam", I asked pointing towards the big ass cartoon. "Are you sure you want to get the whole
thing?", she looked at me as if she had never come across any drunkard in her whole life. I felt
little insult how she was underestimating my drinking capacity. "The body does not prove
anything, it is all about how you control your mind", I was practising the dialogues inside my
mind for potential heated conversation. But, my limited communication skill then somewhat
prohibited me from expressing the bulging anger. So, I simply nodded turning my head in 180
degree which I later knew would imply otherwise in this western culture. Seriously, I did not
remember anything in between except for making the payment nor have I remembered how I
had carried myself and that big ass cartoon of fuel in that twenty minutes walk back home before I exploded, "Eureka!!! ल खा केटा हो, पार्टी गर अब छादनि गरी ".
Guy D inaugurated the party by opening the first can of that foamy beer.
Cheers!!! "खतरा छ बुझिेस् टेस्ट चै, गुलियो बियर झन हरिप हुन्छ.... तर अली कड़ा छ जस्तो छ मु *", even
Guy D, expert in alcoholism warned everybody to slow down when he gulped that first one.
"नखाउ कि क्या हो म त ", guy A hesitated due to his lack of experience. "केइ हुन्न एस्तो बियरले, नीट
लडा छु कत्ति कत्ति ", experience of ‘Tongba’, ‘Chhyang’ and home made ‘Aiela’ came from the guy
D again. The mood was so turned on that the presence of any female companions
(if we ever had) was hardly necessary. The guy A, who was otherwise notorious for turning the
chicken curry into chicken soup by running the tap water directly into the cooking pot was even
trying his best to produce the real 'Bhutoon' for snacks.
Thanks to his third can, guy B was busy starting to vent out his then sprouting love by singing
‘मेरो कथा खाली खाली.......'. He would occasionally pause the singing part and not miss any
opportunity to describe how he felt so ill on her on his final days before heading out to US.
Stupidity at its height, I was somewhat convinced that if given an opportunity, this brave 19th
century Shah Jahan would one day successfully create a nice replica of ‘Taj-Mahal’ in the loving
memory of his Mumtaz in that frozen ass tundra. The party was going wonderful with lots of
discussion overboard. Bacchu kailash was once again declared number one over Narayan
Gopal, guy D expressed his dissatisfaction over Slash that the band Guns & Roses would have
looked better had he not wore that red Bandana. From individual love stories to all other future
plans to develop Nepal were all laid out thoughtfully.
रात ढल्कदै गाथ्यो यसरी नै."ढूस्स भो पेट, म चै गए अब सुत्न ", guy A sounded really intoxicated
suddenly. I was feeling little uncomfortable too. I was not so sure whether the culprit was the
taste of foreign brand or that overly cooked ‘Bhutoon’. So, I sneaked into my room only to
discover two snoring buddies who were already occupying the remaining mattresses.
Homosexuality was far beyond this naive Gorkhey's imagination then. So, I somewhat found my
space near that bloody Mattresses. Lying next to that half naked guy A, my donkey voice
abruptly uttered.. मेरो बेहोशी आज.....Not realizing that I was drunk for the first time in my life, I
regretted not having to discover my gas problem back in Nepal. I was worried thinking about its
future implications in that foreign soil before I dived into deep coma.
"को खान्छ ह्या यत्ती सारो Root बियर हँ ?", I heard the voice coming from the door-step next morning.
It was Bhim Dai who would often come and check the rookies out in weekends.
"ठूलो पार्टी थ्यो दाई हिजो ह्या, तपाई आउनु भएन त बोलौदा नि ", I immediately acknowledged his
presence with bravery.
