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Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Revisiting the +2 years-2: Moments with brother and friends
A tale of struggling brothers
As implied before, the days in Orchid College were not that
simple. My brother Indra, who had arrived to this land for education two years
earlier, was in much more turbulent times then. Our father, sensing he could no
longer bear the burden of higher education of all three of his sons, had made
it clear that Bro should earn a living for two of us in Chitwan from the point
of time I arrived there. Brother’s first job at a private school had become
like the mythical fruit in the sky that would drop at its will but it was
nearly impossible to pluck it. Salary was modest by the standard of those days
but they would cruelly keep us waiting for the day of payment. When they paid,
Bro would have eluded the shopkeeper for two weeks or so fearing that he would
ask for money and stop lending us more goods. His part time tuitions were the
welcome but insufficient solace. Remarkably, we never went to bed hungry but only Bro
knows how hard and challenging it was to maintain that status.
Two brothers: One journey
Typically in winters, cooking would be done in the evening
and over most of my first year days, Bro did it. Half of that food would remain
for the following day. When I felt energetic enough I would warm that food in
the morning, otherwise, the cold food was good enough. While I ate and got
dressed for college, Bro would come rushing back from Birendra Campus to go to
the school on time. I have fainter memories of summer time but surely we must
have cooked food twice while everything else was the same. This way, my only
job throughout the day over most of the first year was to study and sleep.
Bro’s 18 hour-a-day rush was, I assume, the result of his determination to
provide me the best circumstances for study as he had literally gambled to
entertain me in a private colleges and all the hard work and investment would
pay off only if I did well in studies.
Over the second year, the roles were reversed. While Bro was
exhausted by the endless rush throughout the year, I had done some irrefutable
progress with each terminal exams and the gains were unlikely to reverse. So I
now took the responsibility of the kitchen while Bro concentrated in his
endless and often futile drive to make ourselves wealthier. Things were
relatively better but the third meal on a day remained always controversial.
While there was no stated ban on buying and eating things like bread or
biscuits, I remember instead making a mouthwatering recipe of rice (Chamal),
tomato, salt and oil in the room in the afternoon when Bro was out, especially
when we were staying at one Indreni Chowk.
Then we had a bicycle without the hind seat that I could not
drive. Hence Bro would almost weekly take me to the Eye hospital seating in the
cylindrical metallic beam for I had an apparently incurable dryness of eyes.
Two brothers: years later in less challenging times
In the first day in class 12, there prevailed a confusion.
While many students were sure about which subject to study, many swung
to-and-fro between Biology and Mathematics classes for many days. Convinced
that it was impossible to be a doctor given the competition, I had tentatively
decided to choose Maths but when I uttered this to Bro after going home, he almost shouted against the idea. It
was sealed then: I had to become a doctor. He had a dream, a vision. And so had
I. The subject was never discussed again. A similar incident took place almost
a year later. I had completed all other papers of final exams of class 12 and only the ‘Extra Maths’ was
left. There was a day break but I had become so complacent and indulgent that I
wasted almost entire day chatting with a friend. When Bro came in the evening
and saw my state, he became serious and said, “Who knows, you may have to
pursue engineering in future if anything goes wrong with the plan to become a
doctor. Why are you taking things so lightly?”
That was like falling from a roof for me. Apparently, I had
not become as serious about my career. A lost minute before the exams was like
lost years in future. I decided to become a serious man and planned to study as
long as possible that night; overnight if possible. The moment for rest would
come the following day after the exams. Sadly, I fell asleep at around 10 pm that
day and all my plans were in tatters. The only relief was that, when the results
were out, I had scored an impressive 80% in Mathematics even after all that
negligence. May be Mathematics loved me even when I deserted it!
Having passed SLC at very young age, my brother was also in
his teenage then even though it seems pretty awkward that he had so huge a
responsibility at that age. I too was a teenager. For ethical and other
reasons, this is probably not right time to elaborate the mischief
characteristic of that age committed by any of us. Yet the troubles brought
about by them were significant parts of our lives back then.
Discovery of my friends
Coming to the issue of friends, I was not exactly a model of
a sociable person (that I am not till date for I neither drink alcohol, smoke
cigarette, play cards nor indulge in a host of other misdeeds that are perceived as
criteria for sociability). My rustic ways, unkempt hair, unclean face, shorter
stature, reluctant voice and relative paucity of speech kept me secluded from
most of my friends over the first half of the first year in the college. Classes were no times
for making friends while I avoided Canteen for dearth of bucks. There was no
space for any formal game except a TT court to which I am alien to this date.
After classes I used to rush to the room on foot while most others enviably
sped in their shining bicycles. A 30-45 minutes walk to-and-fro each day was
thus a lonely affair. Strangely, it took me months to see Narayangarh Bazaar
after my first journey in via the transit.
Yet over months the shell of seclusion around me began to
thin out. Most of the friends appeared to be much more simpler than I had
initially imagined. Not every one of them was the son of a wealthy father hating
the rustic, ‘Pakhe’ as was the common term. Indeed there were pretty many of
them from family background like my own. Even those from wealthier families were
very friendly and welcoming. Some sort of bullying is always there in any
educational institution but that was far benign and ineffectual than could be
expected in a class with so much diversity.
Eventually, combined with this realization and my own
progress in studies, I shed the last remnants of inferiority complex and
alienation. That was quite gratifying because I had always found a chasm
between the simple world that I had left behind and the complicated world now I
was in giving rise to a kind of struggle within me. Seeing that gap closed and
myself accepted as an ordinary member of this urban community was thus an
accomplishment in itself.
This convergence between the two worlds thus opened the gate
for a thriving friendship though I am not sure if my friends also went through
a similar process. Eventually most of the students in my section became friends
and a dozen or so of them very close friends. That friendship endures till this
date and shall continue to do so.
Some remarkable examples of those early days of friendship:
From the Tihar in class 12, I started wearing a ‘Dhaka Topi ‘, the traditional
Nepali cap. I anticipated a lot of teasing, mocking and even some bullying
since that was a highly unusual dress up for people our age and it looked
almost awkward with the Tie in our uniform. But the opposite happened. While
many admired, others simply smiled and remained silent. Eventually, some others
started wearing it. And one day, after a brief planning, every boy in our
section appeared with a Dhaka Topi atop the head. Teachers were mesmerized and
Kapil sir recollected it 10 years later when I visited the college few months
back.
The other proof of our cool friendship was a newly
discovered game. ‘Chungi’ is, ordinarily a game of kids. But somehow we started
playing it at college at the Lunch break (during which none ate lunch). From
passing it between two persons, it soon developed into a group game with two
teams with four people each with a court and own set of rules. We even started
‘spiking’ like in Volleyball games. This too was very impressive and teachers
still recollect it.
A third example of constructive and creative friendship:
Suddenly there was talk of electing a ‘Kakshyapati’, the president of the
class, in our circle. Everyone was instantaneously excited by the idea and more
voices joined the chorus. The candidates were ready, their aides and endorsers
were ready, voters were obviously ready. But there emerged the question of a
trustworthy and impartial commissioner for the election. There was no other
contender for this thankless job and I stepped as the commissioner. I employed
some other trustworthy friends for monitoring the whole process. Few hours of
preparation followed the voting. But soon after the candidate likely to loose
started threatening (though in friendly terms) that he may not accept the
result. I was in a dilemma and threatened to cancel the whole process by
destroying the ballots unless both sides agree to accept the results.
Eventually that candidate was persuaded and the vote counted. He lost as
expected and went on to open a symbolic opposition party named ‘Banduk Gola
Party’. The fanfare of the winning president soon moderated but the opposition
started a hand written mouth piece named ‘Banduk Gola Dainik’. (I even had the
last issue of that ‘Dainik’ till few years ago though it is lost now.) They used
that paper to heap not-so-gentle abuses particularly at me (probably because I was
never offended and often amused by that) for defeating them by conspiracy!
And finally a glitch related with friendship. Over second
year, Balaram was my full time friend because we had rented a home in his
house. We both went to college together in his geriatric yet flawless bicycle
(Phoenix, I think) and came back together. For months before I learned
independent cycling, I would rotate the piddles sitting on the driver seat
while he carefully held the handle from two sides sitting in the carrier. The
problem now was, somehow I caught a disease that had engulfed him: TV-watching.
With busy schedule of Bro, there was no one to scold me and soon I developed a
craving for TV. That was the most important reason why my study hours had
drastically decreased when compared to first year. I grew lazier and more
passive. The devotion of first year was lost forever.
The only solace was that, the foundations developed in the
first year were so sound that there was no drastic fall in my performance. The
toughest task of building confidence and conviction had been already
accomplished and I only had to maintain that momentum. This was reflected in
the final scores; they had decreased just by 1% in second year when compared to
first year.
I do not know why I often tend to view people rather grimly: they usually are not as benevolent, well-intentioned and capable or strong as they appear to be. This assumption is founded on my own self-assessment, though I don’t have a clue as to whether it is justifiable to generalize an observation made in one individual. This being the fact, my views of writers as ‘capable’ people are not that encouraging: I tend to see them as people who intend to create really great and world-changing writings but most of the times end up producing parochial pieces. Also, given the fact that the society where we grow and learn is full of dishonesty, treachery, deceit and above else, mundanity, it is rather unrealistic to expect an entirely reinvigorating work of writing from every other person who scribbles words in paper.
Somebody has said: “I was born intelligent but education ruined me”. I was born a mere child, as everyone is, and grew up as an ordinary teenager eventually landing up in youth and then adulthood. The extent to which formal education helped me to learn about the world may be debatable but it definitely did not ruin me. There were, however, things that nearly ruined me. There came moments when I contemplated some difficult choices. And there came and passed periods when I underwent through an apparently everlasting spell of agony. There came bends in life from which it was very tempting to move straight ahead instead of following the zigzag course.
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