Memory Lane: Point Me to the Sky!
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“Aham pathsala na Gachami!” I answered back with my eyes transfixed on the black sleek automatic racing car rollicking forward and backwards.

“Laaaaaaaaaaaaa! Yo pani milena!” A sense of panic seized my sister as she went over her Sanskrit Finals.

“Mero pani Milena…taile k lekhis?” Sneha didi tried to console her best friend tearing the skin of the Bhogate they had planned to feast that afternoon. As we huddled around, Sneha didi and I began to chuckle as we read the answer my sister had written next to her question “aham pathsala na jayenge.”

“Yo oys lai “pandit ko chora jastai” Sanskrit kasari sabbai aaucha?” Sneha didi reiterated what my class teacher had pointed it out to my parents a few months ago. “yo ta “MERO” bhai po hunu parne!”

At this, my younger sibling, Makuri, and shivani, busy playing “gatta” chuckled and came over to help Sneha didi. I glanced sideways at shivani who had clearly outgrown her childish ways – the days when we used
to play “behula behuli”. She was such an irritant then, with hideous make ups, runny nose and the gajal that extended beyond her eyeline. She seemed much serene now. She dressed up pretty these days always matching her Hair pin with her dress. Her new hairstyle, “thai cut”, complemented her round head.

Seeing my sister still downtrodden, sneha didi shot another consolation “Hyaa! chodde kya! Sanskrit ma fail bhayera ni class fail garaucha ki kya ho?” Didi eventually sat down with others.When she saw that I was the only one that hadn’t come to their mini-feast, she exclaimed “Babu! Tyo remote kaan ma tik tik nagar bhanya hoina talai ? “Deaf” hunchas ani thaha pauchas?”

“Taile aaditya ko gadi jhaap hani sakis hai?” exclaimed makuri seizing the perfect opportunity. Shivani gave a half hearted smile to my sister’s remark.
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Aaditya and I. We were destined to become best friends. Not because they moved next to our house separated by a two feet derelict wall that we could hop over with the slightest of efforts. Not because our enclave was dominated by my sisters, their female friends and their games. Not because Aaditya had come
from the coolest place we’d heard at the time- Darjeeling. But Aaditya had what every kid at that age really prized – a black sleek remote controlled racing-car.

In a few weeks’ time, all the children in our small neighborhood took liking to Aaditya and his dad, Hem Uncle, who turned out to be a fascinating story teller- a perfect foil to our winter holidays that had just begun. So instead of our usual winter evening rituals, sitting around the fireplace in the backyard of our neighbor’s listening to silly guffs of my sisters and their friends- the talks that mostly revolved around the cuteness of new bollywood actors- Aaditya and his dad’s presence transformed our evenings. Huddled around with fear and curiosity were the usual suspects – my didi, sneha didi, Makuri, shivani , aaditya and Hem Uncle. We always had popcorn or potatoes that we broiled in the fire as we sat there motionless with our hearts racing when Hem Uncle told us thrilling stories of Darjeeling – from the hand that followed everywhere in Kalimpong, to the headless horse of tunal devi. From the lost souls that haunted the bridge of bagmati river to the talking goat in Kalopul.

It would usually be my mom’s sharp pierce “aaba raat bhari bari mai basi rakha! “HOOP” pascha ani thaha pauchau?” that would scurry us home. After dinner, we discussed some more spooky stories and after which I usually slept with warm sirak, dried all day in the chaut, covering my face, hiding my innate fears.
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Of course! We had all seen it coming. My sister took some stories to heart. Her Sanskrit finals dilemma added fuel to the fire. Though I hesitated to her request I knew there was nothing that could change her stubbornness – and we’d all be part of the ritual.

I, along with makuri and Shivani, was at Aditya’s place that afternoon, watching “Jo Jita Wahi Sikandar.” Aaditya was explaining to us how “his Darjeeling” looked just like the scene in the movie based in Naintaal defined by exotic beauty.

“ma pani tyai padchu” Shivani exclaimed. “kasto ramro!” she swayed to turn to my sister and asked her to come to Darjeeling with when she left for her studies. Aaditya came to my rescue “aare aare! Jhan oys ra ma tasangai padne ho. Sangai cycling jane ho. Ho ki hoina Oys?”

Avoiding awkwardness, I motioned “la aba jane hoina? Didi le bolaune bela huna lagyo!” I couldn’t help but imagine “three” of us, best friends, going to the same school surrounded by exotic beauty in Darjeeling. Aaditya clapped his two hands together snapping my titillating thought, reversing his sleek black racing car. He had recently discovered that clapping mimicked the remote control reproducibly.

“..Eh jaun jaun. 3:28 bhai sakyo” Shivani exclaimed and we got out, hopped over the wall to our house and entered the room. My sister looked pale but she still seemed determined to carry out the ritual.

“babu! Tyo parda haroo chado laga ta!” I agreed without a protest. Sneha didi came into the room with some candles. Shivani and Makuri quickly swept the floor and put “chakatis” for all of us to sit around. Even Aaditya got into the act. He tore apart a clean page from the back of “tridevi” notebook , wrote in his calligraphic big black letters, PASS and FAIL. We all sat down in a circle and Aaditya put the note on the center. The candles were lit illuminating the dark room and atmosphere became somber than we had anticipated. Though rattled and confused, my sister broke the uncomfortable silence : “la aba kasko aatma bolaune?”
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Though there was a only a muffled debate, Prithvi Narayan Shah emerged as the obvious choice, the choice influenced by the stories of Hem Uncle from few nights before. So the scene was set:
“…Hey Prithvi Narayan Shah ko Aaatma…”my sister began to evoke the great king closing her eyes and crisscrossing her fingers between her two hands. “…hamro yo sano kaam gardinu paryo…!!!”

I had not really agreed with prithvi narayan shah. I had read first hand that he was ruthless. He had reportedly cut off noses of every citizen of Kirtipur when Gorkha captured it. He even had some bodyguard hung for not saluting him. What if his soul didn’t leave? I began to ponder with unease. But my sister was racing off with the evocation process

“..Pashupati baata paschim patti…gaushala..ani bhandar khal ko pachadi ko bato….siphal ko.oralo..kalo pul..paschim patti….maligaon…..ani north teera…kale ko pasal…ukalo..mandir…ani sano goreto, seto dhoka…….”

When she convinced herself the soul had entered our house, she nodded at me. As she had explained to me before, I took the 1 rupee coin and placed it between PASS and FAIL on the paper and pressed on top with myvright thumb. Everyone waited with fierce excitement. The wind didn’t howl outside. The windows didn’t slam back and forth. The glass didn’t crackle. The candles didn’t flicker. Yet, everyone waited. Soon enough, our enthusiasm began to wane. Shanta bajai, tenant living by our house, shouted on top of her lungs “Dhara aayo hai, paani bharna chado aao!!”

Inside, we looked at each other with a desire to smile but we concentrated back at the coin. Nothing changed. The coin didn’t move a millimeter. The pressure on my thumb was beginning to take its toll.

My sister finally let out a disappointing sigh, “hyaaaaaa! ki timi haroo le ramrari prathana nagarya jasto cha ki chai yo Oys le thicheko milena. Kasto apthero manera thichi racha. Herr na!”

“aba danga parera thichu ta tero lagi?” I lost my temper. Aaditya came to the rescue again. “ma gardinchu. Ma gardinchu.”

“hey aatma, chado aau na….ghar jana hatar bhai sakyo.!!.” I could hear Shivani whisper as we began to concentrate again with our fake prayers. “La aba huncha hola! Sneha didi tried to console my sister yet again.

So, my sister started again : “..hey prithvi……..pashupati..bhandarkhal…..” She hadn’t even reached maligaon this time around, when Sneha didi exclaimed … “OOOOO gayo gayo!!!”

To our amazement, the coin shifted towards PASS slightly and that was the sign of the verdict my sister needed. Forgetting to end the ritual, she instead patted Aaditya in the back, and let out her own verdict -

“Tyai ta! Oys le thicheko namileko raicha. Oys laato cha. Aaditya lai ramrari thichna aaudo raicha. Thichne bittikai sari halyo!!!!” I sat there in disbelief as one by one, all decided that it was entirely my fault. I stole a look at Aaditya who was wryly smiling at me. Shivani scurried off to her home as well exclaiming “Dhanyabad,
aatma ji”!
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I lay lazily in the Gundri, under the sun, covering my eyes with my hands. I couldn’t believe Aaditya was returning back to Darjeeling so soon. But it was just not Aaditya’s leaving that was pricking me from the inside out.

"Oys ..Oys”….my sister rushed up the stairs happily. “Katti gham ma sutchas! Yaha herr na. Yo pali ni milyo ni.” She showed me the results. She had passed in Nepali barely. Nearly a year had elapsed since she barely passed her Sanskrit finals after the coin-soul ritual. As long as Aaditya was pressing the coin, she’d never fail again. “yo ta jaile ni right hudo raicha hai?” oye oyees..laato..k bhayo? Kina tolaako?”

I didn’t answer back. “Aaditya jana lagyo bhanera bore bhako?” Aaditya had broken the news to us only a few days before. “Ta pani Darjeeling padna jalas ni ta pachi . Daddy lai bhani lakh”

I had done that right after Aaditya gave us the news.

“…talai Darjeeling ma padna pathaye, aroo ko mukh ma maad chai kasle laidincha ni, mangale?” was my Dad’s cold, dead reply that had knew no rebuttals whatsoever.

“…Makuri ra ma Shivani kama jana lagya. Ta bye bhanna jadainas?” I shook my head ..”Pachi jaula!“hyaa! suti rakh ta. Pachi pachi bhani rakh. Pheri kaile bhetna napaulas! “ She left me denting my heart further.

I looked up far into the sky --the blue sky punctuated with clouds of different forms and shapes. Into one innocuous cloud, Prithvi Narayan Shah began to take his form pretty fast. I could even make out his index finger pointing up. Gradually the finger began to dip and point towards me- then, directly at me. I covered my eyes with both my hands. He disappeared back into the voidness of the sky.

[phew..totally lost with sajha formatting these days :)]

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Needless to say anything! :-)

Btw, pheri pani bhanchu - cuteness and innocence of your strories - always shine bright, leaving everything else behind!

Uhi timro storiesko admirer,
Flippy ;-)

The story is cute :) But it isn't as engaging as the title is! After a point, you start losing interest. But hey, in life....after a point, you also start losing mind. Interest is no biggie :D . Good Luck!

Oyschills back, another superb story!

Oys hero, how are you? What has been kickin' your butt lately? :D

It was really nice reading your memory lane. I was just hoping it would end up with "headless horses" or kichkanni story. :) Man, when you gonna tell us some classic horror stories? May be a spin-off to the memory lane. :)

Chill!

Oys, good one but had better ones from you, not that I could write any better. But you had better ones "...family is like the stars....even we are far apart... we are still part of one constellation.." Keep writting .......

cute story!!

oho oyss!!!!  good to see you byak :)

your memory lane always reminds me my brother's stupid jokes and virtuousness...plz keep them coming ...

Long time no see Oys. Good to see you back with yet another amazing narration. Keep them coming (and more frequently) hai.

 

Nice one!!!

 oys bro kata ho achkal ...... eta tira ayo bhane eso phone shone garum kya re.....

 

Kalanki bro still around the capital or back up north? 

Oys, dherai pachi great to read your story..."Babu! Tyo remote kaan ma tik tik nagar bhanya hoina talai ? “Deaf” hunchas ani thaha pauchas?” LOL..sachai huncha ho?

yet another beautiful story. "people come, people go" but "the memory remains". some good, some bad. thanks for sharing.

”Pachi jaula!“hyaa! suti rakh ta. Pachi pachi bhani rakh. Pheri kaile bhetna napaulas! “- heart touching lines there.
what is "hoop"? is it whooping cough?

memory lanes! read every single one you posted during my freshman year. my fav. series!!

Oys -

Very nice story, thoroughly enjoyed it :)

Brig Ma'am - still hanging around the place? ;) Hope all is well.

Amber - Hi! :)

Flip Flop - You're alive too? :)

“kasto ramro!”
“..Pashupati baata paschim
patti…gaushala..ani bhandar khal ko pachadi ko bato….siphal
ko.oralo..kalo pul..paschim patti….maligaon…..ani north teera…kale ko
pasal…ukalo..mandir…ani sano goreto, seto dhoka…….”
and the best of all- “hey aatma, chado aau na….ghar jana hatar bhai sakyo.!!.” LOL.

hope to read more.

hi to Capty, Sndy dijju, amber and Flipsy.

The story was as enticing and captivating as other writings of yours Oys. The "aatma" inviting sessions, remote control gaadi, gatta etc etc..are things we did too. At the hostel, Didis' didn't let us kids come close to their one-to-one "aatma" session. Always wondered how it must feel. Unfortunately you didn't do a good job holding the coin right :)..so you wouldn't be able to answer that for me. If you get time from your busy schedule, hope you will have us revisit our childhood days with more of your stories..

Hi to all the peeps--flippy, sndy, captain and the rest..