Note: The following story is a work of fiction and a work in progress. If the story sounds familiar to some of you, it's because I posted the first two chapters here last year under a different Sajha ID. I'm recycling the first two chapters and hope to be adding more. 

AS THE LIFE TURNS - Chapter 1

By A_P

Ashay had just arrived in Vancouver the previous night from a visit to Kathmandu. The latter was his home; the former, a home away from home.

It was 11:30 in the morning on Thursday and he was still in bed, enjoying his slumber in the warm morning sun sneaking through the window that overlooked the beautiful False Creek in Vancouver’s Yaletown. He had taken the rest of the week off at work.

Yaletown was an antidote to Vancouver’s faster and more dazzling northern downtown peninsula and drabness of its eastern middle-class district. He loved his home away from home.

The phone rang when he was still asleep. “Hello,” he mumbled, picking up the phone.

“Ashay, this is Sheila. Welcome back,” a soft voice of the caller sent warm tingles down his spine. “I would have picked you up at the airport, but I’m sorry I arrived home late from Seattle myself” She almost sounded apologetic.

“Hey, don’t worry, Sheila."

“Can we meet today, Ash?”

Ashay wasn’t too crazy about being called Ash, which many of his friends and families did. He somehow thought the abbreviation had a feminine ring to it. He didn’t like his name being associated with the Bollywood star, Aishworya Rai.

“I’d love to, Sheila. When and where? But, don't you have work today?” asked Ashay.

“Right now,” Sheila’s voice had a definite urgency. “I could come over, if you want. I took a day off today.”

“I’d love that, Sheila, but my apartment is messy right now and I wouldn’t want you to smell the musty odor,” Ashay lied. His apartment was immaculately clean and fresh, the way he always wanted it to be. He wasn’t a neat freak, but he was definitely not a slacker.

"Ashay, it was six months ago today that we met. Happy Six Months Anniversary", Sheila said.

Ashay hadn't remembered the date they met. He was never good with dates. "Oh, hey, Happy Sixth."

Sheila was his friend, but both had a certain level of attraction to each other that they kept hidden. It was the sort of attraction that normally didn’t exist between friends.

Sheila worked for an investment firm. Ashay worked for a policy research institute. She was a doer; he, a thinker. Ashay was smart; Sheila was smarter. They both went to Ivy League schools in the U.S. Ashay graduated from Kennedy School of Government at Harvard. Sheila graduated from Wharton School at University of Pennsylvania. They both were first generation immigrants in Canada. They both thought alike, and each told their friends, “Nepal gave birth to me, U.S. educated me, and Canada is feeding me.”

Sheila was Shila Dhungana in Nepal. With an ‘e’ added to the name, she made things easier for her colleagues who never pronounced her name right. She didn’t like being called Shyla, so the extra ‘e’ helped her bring her colleagues back to calling her the right way, Sheela.

* * *

Sheila had met Ashay Shrestha at an investment policy seminar in Seattle, two hours down south from their home in Vancouver. Neither of them thought the other was a Nepali or were from Vancouver. With Seattle being ethnically diverse and multicultural, they didn’t take notice of each other because they thought the other was a Nepali. Vancouver being as ethnically diverse and multicultural, each had long stopped wondering if a Nepali-looking face at Pacific Center Mall or Guildford Mall was a Nepali or not.

At the seminar, Sheila and Ashay took notice of each other because each had a sparkle in their eyes when they saw each other across the round table.

Their friendship started during a coffee break with a simple, “Hi, I’m Sheila, and you are?”

“I’m Ashay. Nice to meet you, Sheila.”

“So, how are you enjoying the seminar, Ashay?”

“Oh, I’m enjoying it alright, but I’m itching to go back home.”

“And the home is…?” Sheila quizzed.

“Vancouver,” replied Ashay.

“You’re kidding me. I’m from Vancouver, too.” Sheila said.

“Wow, small world, eh?” Ashay exclaimed.

“So, Ashay, wanna do lunch together?” Sheila didn’t care if she seemed a bit too eager.

“I’d love to,” Ashay was excited.

Thus began their friendship. That was July 24, 2007, exactly six months ago today.

* * *

Ashay was in Kathmandu for two weeks for a family visit. He had a mother who doted on him as if he was still a kindergartener. He hadn’t seen her in about two years and he was very excited to see her. His father had passed away many years ago. He had two brothers and a sister. They were a close-knit family, even though they were geographically dispersed in different corners of the world at different times.

His mother would always say to him, “Ashu, I’m getting old and I want to see you settled down with a lovely bride.”

“I’ve got a few photographs that I want you to see.” His mother told him the very day he had arrived in Kathmandu.

“Aww, Ma, come on now,” He protested, not wanting to discuss the matter any further. “I came here to see you.”

When he was in Kathmandu, he had the opportunity to get around with his old friends. Having been away from Nepal, he wanted to refresh his memory of the old, architectural buildings and temples.

With the architectural bones of an 18th-century Kathmandu, the city had evolved in a mixture of ancient architecture and modern city vista. He went to Basantapur and Thamel tourist hubs. He was particularly impressed with the transformation of Thamel from a sleepy district that he had last seen to a bustling tourist destination with multitude of restaurants, pubs and cafes serving cuisine from most parts of the world.

One evening he and his four old friends, Nisha, Pranita, Apurba and Prakash, went to have dinner at Jatra, a restaurant that offered sumptuous cosmopolitan faire on their menu and an eclectic choice of cocktails.

Just when the cocktail orders were being placed to the perky waitress, Pranita’s cell phone rang.

“Hello,” Pranita flipped the phone and softly answered, not wanting to draw the attraction from other tables.

“I want to talk to Ashay,” A female voice said.

“Who’s this?” Pranita demanded.

“Just give him the phone, please,” The caller was in no mood to reveal her name.

“But how do you know Ashay is here?”

“Will you please give him the phone already?” The caller didn't even say, "Would you..." She seemed pretty determined to talk with Ashay.

Pranita gave Ashay the phone.

“Hello, who’s this?” Ashay spoke into the phone and listened.

All his friends at the table noticed Ashay’s face go pale as he listened.

* * *

[End of Part 1]
[To be continued...]

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Except for the public and historical events and figures, all other events and characters are products of my imagination. Resemblance of any character in the story with any person and the person's name is coincidental.

I want to read chapter 2

here comes arko waaiyaat love story
good effort, but not impressive..same old setting, same old bakwaasness

Bhikaari no offense, but  indeed i am dying to see one of your thread in sajha. 

none taken. and i do not write for publicity.

when someone puts in the effort, specially a commendable effort, the least you can do is compliment. If not, as they say: if you do not have anything good to say, then dont say anything at all.

I like the effort AP--I liked your last story as well. So what if the story is not original-- its the writer that makes a story click, and you definitely have that about you. Imagine if they hadnt made the Godfather because they already had so many 'mafioso' movies out there in the 50s. 

And one more thing, you are seeking publicity in whatever you do--whether it is at work, play, home or at Sajha--publicity is what makes you who you are in some one else's eyes. You start the 'publicity' train the day you are formed inside your mother's womb, and your parents proudly disclose to the whole world they are expecting this precious bundle of joy.

Having a slow day with all this rain, and stories like this make for some good time pass. waiting for the next batch please!

 

 

funny how the world works
enjoy the story
may be a bolly snippet?

Nice!

Jatra is a lovely place indeed! :D I'm wondering whats going to happen next.

Women with their six month anniversaries!!  Proves theres a first for almost anything and everything! ;) jk..

keep it up..

AS THE LIFE TURNS - Chapter 2

By A_P

When the call ended, Ashay gave the phone back to Pranita, his hands trembling.

“You alright, Ashay?” asked Prakash, a little worried and a little curious. Prakash, a doctor, was one of Ashay’s closest friends. They had known each other since they were little boys. Prakash had gone to medical college in India; Ashay had gone to the U.S. for his undergraduate and graduate studies in Public Policy.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Ashay said, almost whispering, as he reached for a glass of water.

“Who was it?” Pranita asked, adding, “I wonder how she got my number and I’m surprised how she even knew we are together this evening.”

“It’s just someone I know,” Ashay answered, quickly adding, “someone I knew. Don’t worry, guys. Let’s enjoy the evening.” His mind was in turmoil, but he didn’t want to ruin the evening for his friends.

As the waitress brought their cocktails, Ashay ordered whiskey.

“What would you like to have? We’ve Jack Daniels, Chivas, Johnny Walker…”

Ashay stopped the waitress and said, “JD is fine. Double please, on the rocks.”

“With Coke?”

“No thanks. Straight up. And quick, please.”

The waitress brought the whiskey quickly. Ashay didn’t sip it; he drank it and ordered another double.

“You sure you’re okay?” Nisha asked Ashay.

He nodded his head, “Yeah.”

Later as the waitress brought their dinner, Ashay was lost in thought. Sheila was in his thoughts. He wondered what she was doing that moment in Vancouver. It was Saturday morning in Vancouver; Saturday night in Kathmandu. He wanted to call her on the phone. He just needed her by his side. In less than six moths, Sheila had become someone very important in his life. He never told Sheila or anyone how he felt about her. At that moment, he realized that he loved her.

* * *

Later that night, Apurba, the non-drinker, dropped Ashay at his home. Ashay had said he’d take a cab, but Apurba insisted that she’d give him ride as she lived not too far from his home in Lazimpat anyway. It was close to midnight.

“How was your evening, Ashu?” his mother asked.

“It was good, mom,” he answered, and asked, “what are you doing up this late? Don’t you have to sleep?”

“I was waiting for you to come back home, baba.” Baba was one of his mother’s affectionate terms for him. “Besides, I don’t need much sleep these days,” she didn’t want to make him feel guilty for her staying up late. “Did you eat well? Do you want some warm milk?”

“Nah, Mom, I’m good,” he said, and after a pause he added, “Ma, I want to talk to you.”

His mom looked at him for a moment. A smile came to her face. “You want to talk to me about some girl. Yes?” No one knew Ashay better than his mom. She could read his mind.

He smiled and nodded his head, “Yes, Ma.”

“Who’s it? Where’s she from?”

“Her name’s Sheila and she lives in Vancouver.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a small picture of Sheila.

His mom’s face beamed as she looked at the picture. “She’s pretty. She’s beautiful.”

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know if he needed to say thanks to his mom.

“You’re in love with her?”

“Yes, Mom, I am.”

“What time is it in Vancouver? Call her up. I want to speak with her.”

“Ma, she doesn’t know."

“What do you mean she doesn’t know?”

“I’ve never told her.”

“You’ve never told her what? That you love her?”

“Yes, mom, I’ve never told her that I love her.”

“Why not? And you told me before you told her? You silly boy,” she smiled. “But, that’s okay. You call her and tell her now.”

“Ma, I think I need to look at her when I tell her this. I’ll tell her in Vancouver.”

“No, you call her tonight. It’s morning time in Vancouver and its Saturday. She should be home.”

“I’ll call her in the morning, Ma,” suddenly, he felt nervous, not knowing what Sheila might say when he told her his feelings. For the first time, he started fearing rejection. He didn’t want to think what he’d do if she rejected him.

“Don’t you wait, my boy. Go to your room and call her in your privacy.”

He looked at his mom, looking somewhat relieved, “Okay, Mama, I’ll call her tonight.”

He went to his room, sat on the edge of the bed near the phone, and without waiting any longer, he placed a long distance call to Sheila’s home in Vancouver. Sheila’s recorded message came on, “Hi, you’ve reached the home of Sheila and Sam. I can’t answer your phone right now … and neither can Sam, ha! ha! ... But if you leave your name and number and a brief message, I’ll return your call as soon as we can… well, as soon as I can. Sam won’t answer… ha! ha! ha!” Sam was Sheila’s little Chihuahua dog. Ashay couldn’t help but grin at the playfulness that Sheila often displayed.

Ashay always thought Sheila was much livelier than most anyone that he’s met in his life. She made friends easily; she had that people skill. Often he wished that he was like her; serious at what she did, but always full of life. She was the center of attraction at parties; on the contrary, he often kept to himself.

He called the number three more times and got Sheila’s recorded message every time. He didn’t leave any message. He then dialed her cell number, but then cancelled the call before it went through. He wanted to talk to her when she was home. After a little pause, he called her cell again. The call didn’t go through; he only got busy tone. That night he dialed Sheila’s home and cell numbers about a dozen times, without being able to talk to her.

* * *

At the time Ashay made the phone calls to Sheila, she was already at a Starbucks not too far from her apartment, enjoying café mocha and reading the novel The Kite Runner by Khaleid Hosseini. She heard beeps of Ashay’s calls on her cell when she was on the phone, talking with Rajan, a guy who she had recently met on a trip to New York. She looked at the number, noticed that the missed calls had come from Nepal but couldn’t figure out who it was from. It was not a number Ashay had given her before leaving for Nepal and it was not a number she recognized so she didn’t return the call.

As she sipped her coffee, she wondered if the missed calls might have been Ashay’s. She wondered what he might be doing at that moment in Kathmandu. She rested the novel on the table and looked out the window, not really looking at anything in particular. Her mind began to travel back in time; to the time they first had a chance encounter at an airport many years ago. They had forgotten that encounter until after they eventually met in Seattle and became friends. Her mind trudged on and drifted back into her past.

* * *

Four young, bright high-school students, all girls, all from St. Mary’s School in Kathmandu, ready to embark on a journey that they had looked forward to. The time was December 1998. As part of Japanese government-sponsored youth cultural exchange program for high school students in South Asia, they traveled from Nepal to a distant place where a Little Boy with a big attitude had wrecked havoc on a Monday morning, 53 years earlier. The world had reeled under its reverberations. The inquisitive minds of these young people asked a question, "Why?"

Decades after the Little Boy caused devastation, the world was still trying to find an answer. Many years after their visit to Japan, these four young students had all become young women, with ambitions and future only limited by their imagination. And, their imaginations were limitless. They followed their dreams and often wondered why it happened that happened. They all looked into the future, with aspirations, with ambition, with determination, with hope, and with dreams. One of them contemplated a life with opportunities to shape the future, to change the way how international relations were pursued. The task was enormous; yet, there was little trepidation. She had the ability to touch people's lives, a quality that is of essence in pursuing a career in international diplomacy. That young student was Sheila Dhungana, one of the Grade 11 students at St. Mary’s, who were selected to go to Japan for a 10-day visit on the cultural exchange program, based on their merit, leadership and potential. The other three were Aruna Malla, Sarita Sigdel, and Christine Tamang. Their escort teacher was Suhasini Rai.

The world was still as tumultuous as it was on that fateful day when the United States of America dropped a nuclear bomb, deceptively named Little Boy, on Hiroshima, which devastated the city, its people, its culture, its hope... and stunned the world community of nations. That fateful day was Monday, August 6, 1945. The time was about 8:15 AM. A 61 year-old bespectacled man in Washington, DC had given the order to bomb the city. His name was Harry S. Truman, the 33rd President of the United States, who had become president upon the death of Franklin Delano Roosevelt little less than 4 months earlier.

The four young Nepali students raised their head in that December morning in 1998, looking in awe at the skeletal dome of the iconic building that once was the Industrial Promotion Hall. They closed their eyes for a moment and prayed, trying to come to terms with the unnerving knowledge that more than 140,000 people had perished in the blast... men, women and children; fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters; people enjoying the golden years of their lives and young people like these four Nepali students with ambition and hope.

Yet, the building, which was near the epicenter of the blast and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site known as Atomic Bomb Dome, beaconed to the young minds a message that is profound... a message of endurance amidst adversity, of defiance, and of hope. Despite the atomic blast of unprecedented, mind-numbing magnitude and intensity, the building hadn't come down to ground.

A young student from Pakistan stood next to Sheila and her friend Sarita. Imran Abbas, the boy from Pakistan, a lanky, good-looking fellow with sunglasses on, nudged at Sheila’s arm, “What are you thinking, Sheila?”

“Oh, I can’t even begin to appreciate the enormity of the devastation. I don’t know why Hiroshima had to be bombed and something else could not have been done to stop the war,” Sheila said.

“Oh, come on now, don’t be serious. You’re not going to be a politician or something are you?” Imran tried to liven up the moment.

Sarita quipped, “Or, some kind of diplomat, maybe?”

“Come on, guys; we’re all, what, 11th Grader. We still have long ways to go before we become anything,” Sheila said, her eyes still fixed at the dome. “But, tell you what, a diplomat doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

“Ambassador Dhungana,” Imran teased Sheila. “I think that’s what you’re going to become some day.”

“Come on, Imran, you’re so goofy; no wisecrack, please.”

Sunithee Jayewardene, a young girl from Sri Lanka overheard them and came over to Sheila’s rescue. She whispered to Sheila, “I’m a little sad really. Why do these things have to happen? The Hiroshima bombing, the Civil War in Sri Lanka…”

“And the Maoist insurgency in Nepal,” Sheila added. “I don’t know where the world is headed. But, I’m hopeful for the future, Suni. Look at this dome; it’s an example of endurance amidst adversity. Such devastation; yet, such big progress. Look where Japan is now. It’s an economic powerhouse.”

That evening, when Sheila returned to her host family’s house, she thought about her parents. Her parents were apprehensive about sending their young daughter on a 10-day trip to Japan. They were excited about the opportunity, but she was still their little baby and they had never let her out of their sight. After some convincing from Sheila’s teachers, they had relented on the condition that no boys would be allowed to sleep in the same room as the girls.

Sheila’s host family were waiting for her. Yumiko, the wife, asked how her day was and if she’d already had dinner outside, which she already had. Over Japanese green tea, Yashushi Hibi, the man, a political science professor at the university, asked her what she thought of the visit to Hiroshima.

Sheila paused; her young mind wondering how to summarize the day’s highlights. She thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and said, “The Hiroshima residents perished because of a decision of a country that now lives with the indignity of having ever used the atomic bombs to kill people. The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and, three days later on August 9, of Nagasaki brought the World War II to an end; but the misery of war didn't end. Instead, the end of the World War II soon gave rise to another war... the Cold War between the United States and the former Soviet Union.”

Professor Hibi paused for a moment and said, “Sheila, you’re very eloquent; more than many of my graduate students. And I see that you have a good understanding of an important historical event in the world. You know something? I think one day you’re going to work for the United Nations. You have my blessings for whatever you want to do in life.”

Sheila asked the professor, “I am impressed by Japanese people’s progress. It’s amazing how Japan has emerged, like a Phoenix, to become an economic powerhouse in just a few decades after the War. I want to go to some college where I can learn things about international relations, economic development, financial stability like that of Japan… I don’t know… something like that. Could you give me some advice?”

“So you want to combine international relations with economic and financial aspects of it? Have you heard of Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, United States? They have a great international relations program. And, for international economics and finance, Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania is excellent.”

That night, Sheila went to bed with a dream. After tossing and turning for a while in bed, indulging in a dream of going to the United States for college, she finally fell asleep.

* * *

[End of Chapter 2] [To be continued...]

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Except for the public and historical events and figures, all other events and characters are products of my imagination. Resemblance of any character in the story with any person and the person's name is coincidental.

It has many twist and turns now,,,,,

AS THE LIFE TURNS - Chapter 3

By A_P

In December 1998 Ashay was an undergraduate student at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. He studied public policy with a major in international relations at Duke’s Sanford Institute of Public Policy and a minor in environmental policy at Nicholas School of the Environment. Global politics and policy intrigued him, especially those related to how powerful countries manipulated international relations, dominating less powerful countries for resources and influence, in the name of security.

On December 14, Ashay finished his final exams of the semester. He had one last semester to complete before his graduation in May of the next year. After the last exam, he rushed out of the Sanford Institute building and walked towards Towerview Road and briskly headed east along a forested stretch of the road towards Union Drive. He had a meeting scheduled in 30 minutes with Professor Henry Jacobsen and his undergraduate advisor Professor Robert Ascher in the Political Science Department at Perkins Library building, which was located in the beautifully landscaped quad just next to the awe-inspiring Duke Chapel, the centerpiece of Duke’s beautiful campus with Gothic architecture-dominated buildings.

As he turned the corner on Union Drive, his friends Colin Dunn and his girlfriend Cynthia McBride called out at him as they crossed the street towards him.

“Hey guys,” Ashay waved at them.

“Ash, how’s it going? You done with your exams? Neha says you’re going to New York with her tomorrow. What’s the deal?” Colin said.

“Yeah, that’s right. I don’t know what the mission is all about yet, but Bob offered us a chance to participate in a delegation to India, Pakistan and Nepal through CFR.”

“Bob who? Ascher? And CFR?”

“Yes, Ascher. CFR, the Council on Foreign Relations.”

“Sounds cool. Good for you. When do you leave New York?”

“We’re leaving New York on the 18th. I’m looking forward to the trip.”

“I’m sure you are. You have to tell us everything about the trip when you’re back,” Cynthia said. “Hey, Ash, wanna go to the Hideaway tonight? A bunch of us are going there for couple of drinks.” Hideaway was an on-campus pub and dance club, a popular student hangout, sort of hidden under a concrete driveway structure, not too far from the Chapel.

“I’d love to, but I’m not sure yet. I’m not quite done packing for tomorrow yet. If I come, I won’t be able to do late night. What time are you guys planning to be there at anyway?”

“That’s alright. Just come on over for a while. We plan to be there around 7. You got a ride to the airport tomorrow? Let me know if you need a ride,” Colin asked.

“Thanks, Colin, but Bob’s dropping us off at RDU.” RDU was short for Raleigh-Durham International Airport on Interstate-40, about 12 miles from Durham towards Raleigh, just about 25 minutes drive away. “Alright, guys, I've got a meeting with Bob in 15 minutes. I gotta run. See you later at the Hideaway, hopefully.”

“See ya.” Cynthia and Colin waved bye and walked on.

Ashay walked up north on Union Drive towards the Chapel. He reached Perkins within 5 minutes and he still had 10 minutes left for the meeting. Ashay had been assisting Ascher in his research on international conflict for the last 18 months. Ascher and Jacobsen recently offered Ashay and Neharika Kulkarni, a fourth-year political science undergraduate student, an opportunity to participate as assistant in an international delegation led by the New York City-based Council on Foreign Relations to India, Pakistan, and Nepal with a brief stopover meeting at International Institute of Strategic Studies (IISS) in Singapore. Neharika was Jacobsen’s research assistant. She was the daughter of a high-ranking Defense Ministry officer in New Delhi.

Ashay didn’t yet have full details of the delegation or the mission. All he knew was that he and Neharika were to be part of a delegation that’ll go to India, Pakistan and Nepal on regional security relations fact-finding mission in the Indian subcontinent. Ascher had told him it should be interesting and had something to do about regional security intelligence agencies of India and Pakistan. How does Nepal figure into it, Ashay had asked Ascher. Because both Indian and Pakistani agencies RAW and ISI are suspected of having used Nepal as a safe haven playground against each other, Ascher had told him. He jumped on the opportunity to go. The mere mention of Nepal was sufficient for him to accept the offer. The details could wait.

The delegation was to be officially jointly led by a career diplomat named J. William Middleton from the U.S. Department of State and his counterpart in Pentagon, Retd. Col. Howard G. Brooks. The delegation was to have two yet unidentified intelligence officers from the CIA, one State Department official, one Pentagon specialist, three CFR staff officials, and one other student. That student, a Pakistani national, was an undergraduate student at Columbia University. The next day Ashay and Neharika were to catch a 12:30 PM flight to New York City to participate in a preparatory meeting at the CFR Headquarters.

Arriving near Perkins, under the Duke Chapel, Ashay surveyed the beautifully landscaped green lawns in front of him. He took a deep breath and thought what it’d be like to be with him mother in Kathmandu in just a few days. When he found out about the mission two weeks ago, he immediately called his mother in Kathmandu. She was thrilled. He hadn’t really done any shopping to give his mom and family any gifts yet. He made sure that he’d do shopping in New York before his departure for Nepal. In New York, he’ll be staying at a hotel near the CFR Headquarters, but he had promised to visit a cousin and her family in Elmhurst area in Queens. His cousin had asked him to stay at her house, but citing intensive program at CFR, Ashay said he’d better stayed closer to the CFR office, but he had added jokingly, “Invite me for a Nepali dinner, and I’ll surely come. It’s been a while.”

When Ashay arrived at Jacobsen’s office, Neharika was already waiting there. “Hey, just in time, kiddo,” Neharika called him kiddo when she was in her lighter moods. They shared the same birthday, born the same year. He was born at 4 AM and she at 3 AM. She was technically an hour older than him.

“Henry and Bob both in?” Ashay asked.

“Kathy says Henry’s on the phone. He should be done soon. Bob’s not in yet; should be here any minute, I hope.” Kathy was Jacobsen’s secretary.

Kathy came out and said, “Hi Ash and Neha, you wanna come in and wait until Bob arrives? Henry’s still on the phone.”

Soon, Jacobsen emerged from his office. “Come on in guys, Bob’s on the way. How are you guys?”

“Hi Henry,” both Neharika and Ashay spoke at the same time. “I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

“Not bad. Not bad at all. So, you guys excited about the trip?” Jacobsen asked. Ascher walked in at the same time. “Alright, Bob’s here.”

“Hey folks,” Bob said, taking his coat off and settling down in a chair.

“Hi Bob,” everyone said.

Bob said, “I wanted us to meet before your departure tomorrow. As you know, we’re doing this for CFR, not for the government. Even though the delegation will be led by the government, you two will be a part of the CFR mission. You know CFR is an independent, non-partisan organization that works closely with government policymakers, especially those who deal with foreign policies. You will report to CFR. The CFR delegation will be led by its Senior Director. But, of course, you are fully expected to cooperate with the government delegation and comply with their requirements.”

“What’s the mission?” Ashay asked.

“Our mission is academic and is more closely associated with that of CFR. The government’s mission is anybody’s guess,” Jacobsen replied.

“But what’s our mission?” Neharika asked.

“Overall, we want to know the modalities of how the intelligence agencies of India and Pakistan are working. Specifically, we want to know if either or both of these countries have used or are using Nepal as a base against each other. And we want to know if anybody in the Nepal Government are helping either or both of the rival agencies.”

“Why? Why do we want to know?” Ashay looked at Jacobsen and then at Ascher. “And what are two undergraduate students to do with all this?”

“Smart question, Ash,” Ascher said. “Our interest is in understanding regional relations and rivalries and their implications and see if all this follows an established model. As for the second part of your question, there are two things here. One, government agencies in any of the countries involved would be less resistant to allow student researchers access to information. As academic researchers, you will have more success getting at information than any government officials would. Two, you each know the languages and the system of government in India and Nepal.”

“What about Pakistan?” Neharika asked.

“Tom Parkins of Columbia has selected one of his students who happens to be a native of Pakistan. He says the young man is a smart fellow,” Jacobsen responded.

“Tom Parkins? Professor Thomas Parkins?” Ashay asked.

“Yes, him.”

“So, what’s CFR’s role in this?” Ashay asked again.

“They have similar interest as ours. They want to understand the trilateral political, diplomatic and military relations between India, Pakistan and Nepal and how the relationship shapes the works of intelligence operatives. They want to know if these complex relationships based on regional rivalry can be understood with an established model,” Ascher said.

“What about the government? Why are the State Department, Pentagon and CIA involved?” Ashay asked.

“That is a tough question. CFR has advised us not to try to be too inquisitive about the purpose of their mission. But we can certainly speculate. Of course, the State Department wants to create a presence of influence in the Indian sub-continent. The State and Pentagon’s interest is because India and Pakistan’s bilateral relation is a hot button issue. The Kashmir issue is a volatile one. And, of course, the CIA wants to maintain a credible level of intelligence not only over the two countries, but over the entire region, Afghanistan included, especially because of the radical Taliban government there. The official government delegation will be led by a diplomat named Bill Middleton. I hear he's an old Nepal and India hand. They say he's had diplomatic tenures in all three countries, Nepal, India and Pakistan when he was younger” Jacobsen said, as he removed his eyeglasses and cleaned them with his handkerchief.

"I hear he even speaks a bit of Nepali and Hindi," Ascher added, looking at the two young students.

“OK, what’s our deliverable?” Ashay asked.

“A detailed term paper. Both of you are to write a term paper each. That’s going to be your senior thesis. And I know you won't disappoint us.”

“And why’s CFR paying for all this?” Neharika asked.

“Because they want to use your term paper as chapters of a book on foreign policy that they’re planning to bring out. It’s an opportunity of a life time. Take full advantage of it,” Ascher encouraged.

“We will,” both Ashay and Neharika said, both truly grateful. “And thanks for selecting us for this mission.”

“Your main contact at CFR is Bill Prescott, the Senior Director and his assistant Jane Middleton,” Ascher informed them. “I’ll give you a ride to the airport tomorrow. CFR will have you picked up at La Guardia tomorrow. Jane Middleton will give you all the details about travel documents, stipends, expenses, etc. It’s fully paid by CFR.”

“If you have any question, call, email Bob or myself anytime. Good luck,” Jacobsen ended the meeting.

As Ashay and Neharika rose, Ascher looked at their backpacks and winked at them, “You guys do have a more decent bag, don’t you? And I hope you both have some decent clothing, too.”

* * *

[End of Chapter 3] [To be continued...]

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Except for the public and historical events and figures, all other events and characters are products of my imagination. Resemblance of any character in the story with any person and the person's name is coincidental.

sum_off? Asking that is compliment on itself hai.

Waiting for next part.

kHusHii: My god, did you say Sum_off!? Now, that's a huge and humbling compliment. Sum_off is on a league of his own and to me--as, I think to, many Sajhaites--is a master story-teller and a gifted wordsmith. I'd be happy if I were even half as good as him. It's too bad that I don't see his posts around anymore these days. Part of me thinks his agent or maybe even a publisher has advised him to refrain from posting.

White Lily: It's a great feeling to know that someone is reading the story and waiting for the next chapter. Thank you.

dekchidriver: Thanks. Didn't mean to put women in a tacky position. Will be careful anyway. :)

bhikhari: Sorry, the "theme" that you detected in Chapter 1 isn't to your liking. But, to be fair, I myself don't know what the theme of the story is or where the story is going. Thanks for your comments, nevertheless.

Jhyalincha: Thanks for your compliment and a passionately making a point.

raju161: Hello there.

A great read!!!!! Waiting for the next part.

AS THE LIFE TURNS - Chapter 4

By A_P

As they walked out of the meeting, Ashay asked Neharika, “Neha, wanna go to the Hideaway for a drink tonight?”

“You asking me out on a date?,” giggled Neharika.

“A date at the Hideaway? Jeez, gosh, no. If I wanted to take you out on a date, I’d take you to a decent restaurant on 9th Street or on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill,” smiled Ashay. “But, know what, yes, OK, I’m asking you out. Wanna go?” 9th Street was a downtown Durham street dotted with restaurants and Franklin Street was a lively street with restaurants in the nearby Chapel Hill, the home to Duke's basketball rival, the UNC-Chapel Hill.

“Come on, Ash. Be serious. We both have packing to do. And I don’t wanna wake up groggy in the morning.” Both kept walking.

“Colin and Cynthia asked if I wanted to go. A bunch of people are going, I think. Just thought I’d enjoy more if you joined.”

“Joined there or went with you?” Neharika quizzed, giggling.

“OK, if you went with me.”

She stopped walking, turned towards him, looked him in the eyes, paused for a moment, then placed her soft hand on his forearm, and whispered, “Of course, I’ll go with you, kiddo.”

He looked at her without saying anything for an awkward moment, then gazed into her eyes, and whispered back, “Will pick you up just before 7?”

“Sure.” She had a soft smile on her face, and a sparkle in her eyes.

* * *

That evening, Neharika wore a beautiful light green-hued flowery blouse, a Cashmere cardigan, a nice pair of jeans, and a pair of trendy green and purple sequoined high heels that she had picked up at a shoe store in Karol Bagh when she was in New Delhi the last time. She dabbed Chanel No. 5 perfume on her wrists, her napes, and on her chest, and put on a pair of cute earrings. She put on lipstick, lined her eyes with eyeliner, curled her lashes with mascara, and blended in just a hint of blush on her cheeks. She hooked a gold chain around her neck, with a heart-shaped gold pendant. She let her hair down, held a coat in her hand, and waited for Ashay.

Ashay arrived 5 minutes before 7. “You look beautiful.” He gave her a hug, and opened the passenger side door for her.

“Why, thank you, you knight in shining armor,” joked Neharika.

“Off we go to the Hideaway, the best ever destination for a date,” Ashay joked, too.

The Hideaway was already crowded when they arrived. Cynthia, Colin, Rebecca Matthews, Rebecca Chang, Steve Ma, Maria Ricaldez, Abubaker Odhiambo, Jayant Desai, Chris Barnett, Suresh Wadhwa, and Kiran Parekh were all there. More were still coming in. They were all friends of Ashay and Neharika's.

Ashay and Neharika met with everyone. “Neha, what can I get you?” Ashay asked.

“What are you having? Or, whatever you’re having. Except beer,” said Neharika.

“Well, I was going to get a beer for myself. You want some martinis? How about a Cosmo?”

“Sure.”

At the bar, Ashay ordered a honey brown lager for himself and a Cosmo for Neharika.

They stayed there for about an hour, chatting with friends, enjoying the company and drinks and dancing. Then around 8 pm Ashay whispered into Neharika's ear, "I hope you're hungry, cuz I am. Do you want to go somewhere and eat something?"

"I'm starving," whispered Neharika.

Soon they left the club, saying good bye to their friends. Their friends wished them a pleasant journey ahead and bid them farewell. Ashay drove towards 9th Street, with Neharika by his side. They had dinner at Ravena's, a local restaurant. Around 9:30 PM, they left the restaurant and Ashay drove Neharika home.

“Thanks for a lovely evening, Ash.”

“My pleasure, Neha.”

She stepped towards her apartment building, then stopped, paused, turned around, saw him looking at her, and she walked back.

“Good night, kiddo,” she gave him a hug.

“Good night," he hugged her back. "Go now. See you tomorrow.”

He waited until she was inside her apartment building, and then drove off.

* * *

[End of Chapter 4] [To be continued...]

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Except for the public and historical events and figures, all other events and characters are products of my imagination. Resemblance of any character in the story with any person and the person's name is coincidental.

Kudos!!!!!I certainly can't describe in words how much I am enjoying your work. Can't wait for the next part.

chap 4 is too short!!! waiting for ur chap 5. hope it will b longer than chap 4.

I'll give it a shot and read it :P bbwc

A_P jyu many thanks for continuing this superb story. I would have forgotten if you had not mentioned it in another story, havent been in this webbie for long but I must say whenever I am in the site I am always looking forward to read one of your beautiful stories. Thanks so much for sharing and I hope you can share your short stories whenever your creativity mood starts sailing....

Cheers

NN