My attempt to chronicle an experience ...

Real names are altered and places never revealed to avoid character recognition.

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About a girl--Encounter with uncertainty.

Her pearly eyes caught my attention from a distance. As I moved closer, I could feel the ambience developing like a lovely dream with a guaranteed good story. Sure the birds didn’t chirp neither did sweet little angels with magical wands hum around. But the moment was surreal, filled with musical charisma that could embarrass Beethoven to shame. What a feeling of compassion, what a blissful experience of acceptance yet it had just been mere moment in time. It felt right, to introduce my existence, which I thought was highlight of my life, sunshine of my day. Her electrifying smile could do no wrong to her stature; moreover, it was like icing on a fresh cake. Few moments of awkwardness felt like father time had just stopped ticking, mother earth candidly bunged moving. Then the story started, the characters were introduced, the plot kicked in, all set and ready to go.

Sporadic sips of extra creamy coffee in my mouth, which had become lukewarm due to slow consumption. Actually, coffee can blame this angelic lady who was incarcerating my attention and therefore drinking it, was secondary activity for that moment. We were standing there with nervous smiles, punctuated by deafening silence. Yes, the silence can blow your brains off; it’s just that psychological phase that is dark, depressed and ready to detonate, in order to make things happen. Still, with blushing face that had been well nourished with bizarre current of devotion, I tried to gaze her into her eyes. Her eyes were sensitive, flirtatious, bubbly and never ready to focus. Maybe they were windows to her soul, so profound; that I would easily vanish and never find myself again. For interest, I managed to try, rewarded only with tons of disappointment and curiosity. During this whole process of ambiguity along with the game of hide and seek, the coffee was guzzled and we were ready to move onto the next phase of activity. Ironically, I remember the times when we used to digitally converse, expressing our analogous human signals into digital gibberish, which was again later decrypted to regular messages. Of course, I am referring to the times when we used to spend hours, talking online, through a popular instant messaging system. We indulged ourselves in this wonderful invention of man kind with the help of a common friend. So, we used to spend countless hours, using handicapped phrases with entourage of emoticons that tried its best to imitate our natural feelings. It was naive, like trying to land a jab in the dark, to an opponent. You hurl it out there, expecting something but you don't know exactly what. At times, conversations were healthy, it felt like two souls were hugging each other and during the others, it was tainted, full of throat slashing and clashing of combustible egos. Nevertheless, good things outweighed bad, and here we were meeting for the first time, ever.

Out for a movie, I can't even remember it accurately because it was a sequel to the first Bridget Jones series. A not so attractive, 30 something woman, trying to find true love and settle down due to the pressures of conformist English society. How reminiscent to our surroundings, nothing, nada. Here, we were, two Nepali kids meeting up for the first time while being gobbled up with gaucheness and sense of insecurity. What if, a fellow Nepali spotted us, how would our relationship be labeled? Things like that, it is one of those limbos of our changing culture, which are covered under the rug but still happens to occur frequently. Well, putting that aside, we managed to watch the movie with occasional bursts of laughter. I, myself had to take it easy due to bladder full of water I was carrying, thanks to jumbo Pepsi. Now, that is a dilemma, should I stand up and walk out of theatre costing precious seconds of the movie watchers or just hold it and wait until the movie ends to unload the tank. I went with the second one. Hence, the whole point of that movie after 30 minutes or so was worthless for me, at least. I enjoyed her company though, seldomly, peeking to get a glimpse of her radiant face in the dark. Adding to that was her smiling back, every now and then, which gave me butterflies.

I dumped the popcorn bag while exiting the theatre, which still had the smell of butter. See the thing is popcorns are overrated if you just focus on their taste. Particularly, without the smell of freshly melted butter, it tastes like Styrofoam with occasional bumps. It is not filling either and I wonder why people waste their money in such a thing like that. Maybe it is a sheer ritual, to be eating popcorns while watching a flick, something that is default and has to be religiously followed. We entered this Chinese eatery, obviously popcorn and his companions’ didn’t do their job, at 10:00 pm. Since it was a Saturday night, I was expecting it to be filled with people; then the chefs would be painting dishes with soy sauce and juggling orders in anguish. Rather it was quite calm and the top floor, which I prefer, had no occupancy. The setting was serene, lighting was dim, curtains half way opened and slow music in the background. And, before we were seated, the hostess brought plastic coated menus for us to look at. I had already made up my mind but all she wanted to eat was spring rolls. Diet conscious, maybe, she said she just does not have an appetite. She probably weighed as much as feather, her miniature frame with really long dark hair and she smelled like an exotic fruit you just want to take a bite off. The dinner was done within minutes, even before the hostess could ponder if we were going to leave good tips or not.

The December weather was not that bad after all, nice mild wind hitting us with touch of coolness as we strolled through the empty streets. Things had eased up by then and we were comfortable talking to each other in real life, just like our online days. Her thoughts were often complimented by analogical web and were vastly political. Every assertion came with an offbeat example, adequately decorated with subjects that made you think. This was not your typical 19 year old girl who complained about burdening college assignments, loved shopping and talked about pretty boys in Hollywood movies, making Nepali guys like me inferior. Instead her analysis about anything was deep; it was drilling my brain with thought provoking queries that had matured beyond her age. I felt knowledge less against a girl who was 3 winters younger than me but then I also realized that this was no normal species. She wanted to become a lawyer and during that long course she wanted to bring her mom to this country due to uncertain political turmoil that was surrounding Nepal. Just like any other Nepalese women, she thinks about family. Her priorities were family and career, beautiful choices, I thought.

Our 30 minutes of widening conversation was interrupted when we had to enter the subway transit. I dig my pocket to see if I had any change or tickets since she belonged to a different town. But unexpectedly, before I could complete my yet another unsuccessful attempt to land what I need at right time, there she was, handing me a ticket instead. Embarrassing huh, yep, I hate to be paid for. It is that ego thing; I would rather walk than have to ask for anything from anyone. Technically, I didn't ask but still I was being paid for by this little gem of a girl who could do no wrong. Subway rides are generally smooth but I hate the fact that I have to raise my volume to be heard. It kind of feels like I am yelling at times and confusing when you are trying to have a decent down to earth conversation. So, the trick is, if someone tells me something during the noisy ride and I don't quite understand it then I just smile back. Smile can do wrong, good situation or bad, it just exfoliates the situation with a healthy attitude. Before we realize it, we happen to be waiting for bus on a platform. I had already gone way past my station but since her relative told me to drop her off at her home no matter how late it became, I was carrying out that duty. It wasn't that awful after all, I was enjoying being with her, experiencing her tits and bits of life and her interpretation. Loyalty and self respect were her key ingredients to healthy life and she just didn't want to compromise those things with anything else. I don't know what it was but every time she spoke, she added new dimension to the image I had of her in my mind, fresh facet, new secret to her already complicated yet interesting persona. Growing up, her father was insignificant to her life but it was mostly due to unavoidable circumstances. Her mother took the bigger role doubling up both as Dad and Mom when they went through misery, monetarily and emotionally. It is hard to survive being deprived anywhere but even harder in developing countries. In those cases, you see no hope, no light at the end of the tunnel. Basically, you just stay idle or continue to crawl but the truth of the matter is, you are eventually nibbled by greedy rats and once they get their share, you just are left to rot. How tragic.

She forgot the buzz code of her aunt's apartment with whom she was staying with. So, she used her cell phone to call them but found out that they were actually not home and would take another 10 minutes to get back. Just then I realized that my last bus to the subway station was leaving in few minutes so I had to move; I asked her if she was going to be alright until her relatives came back. She smiled back at me and said ok, she would be fine. I took some backward steps and wished for the time to congeal in obscurity. Nothing would move other than us and we would be there as much as we wanted to or until we jaded each other. Well, welcome to reality, I back pedaled and she watched me until I got to the other side of the road. She was waving her right hand and I was doing the same. It looked bit absurd with astronomical numbers of bye-byes and ta-tas that were transpiring. But then, during that moment, I felt like I would miss something after I left and maybe if was gutsy enough, I would have sprinted across the street at that very second, hugged her tight never to let her go. Tell her how much I had enjoyed the last five hours with her, how fresh her presence was to me and how lucky was I to be with her. Alas, life sometimes mystifies us with uncertainty of “ifs” and “thens” and swiftly moves by with no chance of repeating. My bus came, and as I was hopping in , I yelled..."call me or come online".

“Please...leave a message “was the first thing I heard after dialing her number. I tried few times more before finally giving up and hitting the sack. Lied down for a bit, reflecting on the activities of that day. Minutes turned into hour and then I realized, maybe her cell phone had run out of battery. I jumped into my old computer chair and punched the letters, with speed, on the keyboard, to desperately log in. There she was, ONLINE, with flowery screen name. If there was an Oscar for intuition, I should have gotten it. I waited for her to say something, even logged off and logged in to grab her attention. No success, so I said “Hello Mary". After few minutes she replied " sorry , could not take your call..mom sanga kura gardai thiye...suna na, I will have to go to Nepal, as soon as possible ...she wants me.". Now, how cool is that, how many Nepali folks do you see who have the opportunity to go back home during Xmas breaks. Quite refreshing I suggested myself because I hadn't been back in Nepal for almost 6 years and I had been craving for that sort of a chance. My wonder dream was interrupted when she told me she has to go offline to pack things up because her Uncle will drive her to the airport early tomorrow morning to see if there were any flights to Kathmandu via Frankfurt. I asked her to email me when she got there before she went offline. This time my bye was undelivered and looped back to me.

Two weeks passed by and I received no email. Heck, I didn't even know if she flew to Nepal or not. I did not call her Uncle because I hardly knew the man, except that he was her relative and also it wouldn't be such a nice idea to inquire about a girl. What would he think? Maybe she was just busy with the family commitments and forgot to write. My roommate has lived out of the country for almost 7 years and still cares more than anybody about the things that happen in Nepal. He gets disgusted whenever he reads about political parties and netas and tells me he would like to do something for the country SOMEDAY. I have asked him numerous times when that SOMEDAY is going to arrive, he always assures me when he is going to get his Masters done. Very convincing, I would say to myself with truck load of sarcasm, especially with the money he owes to the government and the parents, which needs to be paid back, but still he cares about country unlike many of us. At least, he has not forgotten to proclaim that he is a true Nepali with chest thumping attitude and even though his assurance will realistically turn out to be hollow and unfulfilled. Just then my roomie alerts me with developing story from Nepal. "3 insurgents killed, 5 captured in Saat DoBato.”. I ignore it like any other bad news from Nepal. What am I going to get from this other than sadness and sense of insecurity? He begins to read out the names of people including one that sounds very familiar and ends with a phrase that I shall never forget. "19-20 barsa ko manche haru pani moawadi Nepal ma.". I turn around, uproot my roomie from the computer area and begin to read the news as fast as I can, which had a bold red heading. Before I knew, my eyes caught the name Mary Pradhan of Saat Dobato. I restlessly double check, scroll down, google the contents and still get the same news. Yes, it was the same girl I had met roughly 2 weeks ago who had been incarcerated by RNA during a raid. Shocking, diffusing and highly movie like series of events were taking place in this fraction of time. Intriguingly, I remember the times when she told me about her mother's political affiliation and her socialist views. I could never sense something like this happening nor did I get any revolutionary impression from her. She was distinctive but not stone hearted to carry guns and lay out traps. She was this sweet girl I cared, whom I thought I knew or maybe I did not. But that is also Nepal where terrorists rule, murderers are rewarded with reign of the kingdom and it is alright to kill in the name of revolution. Maybe she was in a wrong situation and how can you expect soldiers with minimum education and maximum ignorance to understand? How could you expect them to embrace her when their hands were too busy carrying guns? For the next few weeks, I relentlessly followed the news, even dropped her a line waiting for her to break the shell and tell me that it was not her and she is enjoying her visit.

Mary Pradhan, Asha Pradhan and Suresh Maleku were released by authorities from Hanuman dhoka after 9 days of questioning. Asha Pradhan's light political affiliation was enough for them to tie her and her family with insurgents that were living close by and were caught with pressure cooker bombs. The insurgents were immediately killed but Asha Pradhan's family was wrongfully picked to be questioned, harassed and sadly accused in the process. They were let go after no evidence was found with defamed characters, emotional scar that will never heal and trauma that will haunt them for rest of their life. Most importantly, their trust towards government is forever tarnished and it is tragic that in all of this, only innocent people are the ones who suffer. Last time I checked through her cousin, Mary was still shaken up and hadn't fully recuperated from the incident and it had been almost been 3 months. So far, she has lost 2 semesters of schooling abroad and her dream of practicing law is on hold. Currently, her family is trying to sell their properties to move out of the country for a new start. I can't wait to meet up with Mary, not to talk about her fiasco or pick up the wounds, which will never go away but to experience the thing we had together, sweet little peaceful journey

Casey, life goes on for better or worse eh?

la eutaa Canadian pani jhulkiyo Sajha ma, eh!

Not bad. Keep up your writing.

Well narrated piece. Keep coming.

Thanks for reading it. Its just an effort to write...I dont have a good flow or strong language skills but I try...

Yes, its a non-fiction.