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DJ VU

A man tries to do away with the wall of separation between him and his world, until he no
longer needs to

- Rupak Dhakal

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Aug 23, 2015- A man walks along a hallway, through a crooked path, narrower and deeper.
No light penetrates into the place. It is pitch-dark. There is very little indication for you to know
what time it is. It feels like you have lost your presence, only a couple of minutes into the walk.

However, you shall discover the depth and the narrowness it holds. It is not that the hallway
where you walk carries the depth, but that this hallway will bring out the deepest feelings in you.
The greed, the sorrowall that rules over the human psychewill disappear; this place will
exceed these sensations, pulsating into a situation where pain becomes beautiful and the
realization of vanity is worthy. You grow closer to nothingness-absence becomes the only
presence. Here, your mind is in control of the atoms that surround you. Imagination fails you;
the surreal becomes the real.
A man ventures through the hallway.
His mind is full of thoughts. The walls he has persevered to create throughout his life cages him
within. He thinks, If I rule me, I cannot rule the world. Moreover, if I rule the world, I cannot
rule me. I know I am a rulerthere is no disputing that. If I rule me, they say I am a loser, a
cowardand my rule is undermined. If I rule the outer world, I am well aware of my
pretensions. There is no condition that will satisfy the outer world and my world. And there is
no breaking the walls that separate these two worlds, because perhaps these walls have never
existed. Perhaps the separation exists only within me, then. Does this mean that there is no
possible way in which I can rule me? My own thoughts are contradicting.
He crosses the hallway and reaches the city road, where he can see people moving, time moving.
Is it time that makes people move or is it people who make time move? Either way, this is just
rubbish. I have to attend a seminar in less than an hour. If I become late, my career is finished.
The road is dusty and misty. Every time the vehicles rush, clouds of dirt arise and dust
surrounds the road. The trees aside the road look
exceptional, not meant to be there, bizarre with the concrete and the city. The contradictions
inhabit the city: the roads seem alive, but the trees are dead. The sky is clear, though. The navy
blue canvas feels free and vast. A couple of clouds, here and there, seem to exist only because the
people walking beneath them want to find some difference in the indifference of the sky.
The man stops a taxi and says, Can you take me to Gorakh road in abouttwenty minutes? I
will pay you more than is needed. The driver replies, If you want me to take you to a place an
hour away in 20 minutes, I can agree, but I will not promise. Get in. The man gets into the taxi
as the driver says, So, the work must be an important one, then.
Yes, it is, the man replies. But did he really utter those words? He feels dj vu flowing through
his veins. He feels some incident from his past hitting his brain, as if he has already lived
through this before. Every part of this life is new, he knows, but his mind insisted that this had
already happened. The man took out his phone and checks his schedule, making plans for the

seminar in his head while the taxi driver drove past horns and dust. This taxi could collide into
another any minute now. At the end of less than 25 minutes, the man reached his destination.
He thanked the driver and paid an additional amount of money as hed promised. Then, the
driver went his own way and the man his own.
The sun is glaring and blazing, brighter than ever. The sky is clear and the roads are almost
empty. Near the seminar hall, the man saw a huge mass of people and vehicles. When he got to
the seminar, the man felt lighter, as if his dreams were becoming lighter. He knew what he had
to do and he know how to do it. An aura of enthusiasm surrounded him. He approached the
seminar hall with this very enthusiasm.
As he walked towards the hall, his feet give away. He feels the land tremble. The shaking is so
vivid, so vivid. He knows what this is. People are hurrying out of the hall, out of the homes that
surround it, out of offices, out of shops. The once empty roads are a stampede and the bulls are
on their way, the bulls are on their way. The man is suspended in time, but then again, what is
time, anyways? He becomes numb, wondering if he was dreaming, feeling vain within himself.
Things were changing, but the man felt an even greater sense of the mundane that inhabited his
mind. He contemplates his life, his career. The beauty lies in the struggle, he thinks to himself.
All generalizations have stopped and there is no happening here-there is only the happened. His
mind travels through a void where, once in a while, glimpses of his wife, his children, enter. This
isnt just hopelessness, he thinks to himself. This is more than that. There is a murderous
malignancy here. All I have ever cared about is erasing that stupid, stupid wall between me and
the world. And now, the world agrees, he says out aloud.
I know what time is now. And I know whether people make time move or time makes people
move
The man wakes up from sleep and all he sees is darkness. The same void in which he saw
glimpses of his wife and children, but the void is even more void-like this time. His body is pain,
pressing, unconscious, untilThe man has died with his world. He lives no more, dreams no more, sees no more. And now,
this man is God, an eternal power, a dream within a dream. We are simply but figments of his
dream.

DROPS ON STRIPES

A young lion learns of the fate of humans

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Aug 9, 2015-Tigers are beautiful, not a burden.

Just after crushing the neck of a burly black bear, the tiger with the massive crimson teeth
mightily smashed the bears head with his calloused front paws. A hungry small cub who
followed his mother, yet unable to see the glamour of world, felt the fur of the teddy bear. My
dear Lynx, the world is large and dynamic. You will soon be able to visualise its beauty and you
will recognise your potential. But right now, you are just five days old and you should do as I

say, said the mother tiger. Stretching his ocelli, Lynx listened to his mother and filled his
unfilled stomach.
On the eleventh day, Lynx opened his golden eyes to the sun. He could see that his stripes did
not match those of his mother. He turned his head around the walls of the cave and saw a photo
frame with a garland on it. Mother, who is he? And where is he? Lynx asked, his whiskers
standing. Seeing the curiosity in the cubs eye, Mother Tiger put him on her lap with great
affection and began the tale of Lynxs great- grandfather.
In the moist air of the forest, your great-grandfather was running after a spotted brown deer, but
before he could pounce upon it, a man ejected a sharp stone from a pipe-like thing. Your greatgrandfather was standing still, but life had left him. Thankfully, your father had seen the man
and informed him about it to your grandfather. In that rainy night, a group of tigers left Chitwan
National Park, their eyes searching for their lost brother. They walked pase the bricked houses
and the colourful parks, religious temples and roads filled with bikes and cars. Finally, the
league reached the realm of the murderer.
Oh my God! My father is lying helplessly there, to become the coat of this moron. And is that
the head of the King of Russian Tigers I see behind him? Wasnt he murdered last week? your
grandfather exclaimed. Everyone was amazed to look at the happenings inside the window.
Without wasting a single minute, the league returned to the jungle and called the King Gumshoe
Bureau (KGB), an organisation of spies in Russia. Immediately after they heard of their Kings
fate, a group of Russian tigers booked a couple of Archaeopteryxes and left for Nepal. After
flying over Siberia, Mongolia and China, the Russian Archaeopteryxes landed in Chitwan. The
next morning, the tiger chiefs sat around a table with steaming hot blood in their cups as they
planned to punish the hunter.
From far away, a fierce fire made its way to the meeting place. Humans commonly lit fires in the
jungle to destroy weeds and grass, indifferent to the fact that many snakes, insects and
burrowing animals died due to this. In fact, this was why Siberian birds had stopped visiting us
in Nepal. When such fires raged, our only option was to rush to the Balmiki forest in India. That
day, all of us ran to India. The Red Association of the Wild (RAW) in India very humbly
welcomed us to their home and arranged caves for us. They were astonished to see the Russians
with us. To avoid all confusion, we explained our predicament to the Indians. They understood

us very well and were very supportive of us. The good news was that the hunter we were
searching for had also come to Balmiki. We came to know from some porcupines that he was
planning to take an elephant ride and shoot tigers.
Simultaneously, we marched towards the elephants that were playing with their children near
the river, creating fountains with their trunks.
What a mesmerising view it was.
Before long, we convinced the elephants to help us trap the hunter. The elephants did not object
to our plan when they heard that the hunter had been killing our own. The elephants part in the
scheme was to bring the hunter near the waterfallwhere we would be hiding. Next we would
attack the hunter and rip him apart.
So when the elephant dropped the hunter by the waterfall, we jumped upon him and showed
him a killers fate. This became a historic event and was well known all over the Internet as well.
Tigers in other jungles of other countries liked this idea of trapping hunters and killing, so they
started to sign treaties with elephants. Soon, tigers all around the world killed many hunters and
the jungles became hunter-free zones.
We soon declared July 29, 2025, as Hunter Free Day. Throughout the world, the forests echoed
the roar of the tigers. Green parrots sang for us and peacocks performed feather dances. Deer
jumped and hyenas laughed. Dr White Rabbit wrote a thank-you speech. This day celebrated the
fact that jungles were free of hunters.
The celebration was over and we all returned to our motherland. Although the hunters were
exterminated, life was not easy. Woods were being cut down to construct highways and
factories. The green soon died from the forests. Chemicals and smoke polluted our rivers. My
aunts and uncles died of hunger. Cubs were becoming weak and the infant mortality rate had
increased rapidly. It was necessary to take action, make note of our demographics. The Tigers
Association realised that our silence was become scarier than our roar. And hence, we decided to
leave the forest and migrate towards towns in search of food and water.
The people got exceedingly fearful of us. They stopped exiting their houses. Offices, schools,
shops, cyber cafes were shut. One day, as we lay sleeping in the shadow of a skyscraper, our

shrunken bellies more shrunken than ever, we felt that an earthquake was coming. The city grew
cacophonous with roars, barks and meows. Birds scattered and all the animals rushed towards
open spaces. Japan was soon hit with a tsunami, and multiple earthquakes happened in Nepal,
India, and China. Sadly, the humans were compelled to stay inside their houses during the
earthquake because the free spaces outside were occupied by the wild. The humans were crying
in pain as houses fell on them; many died. They must have felt that the world was coming to an
end.
But this was not the end of humans. The dead bodies buried under the houses generated a new
virus called Terminus, which increased oxygen demand in human bodies. But because there
wasnt sufficient greenery in the world, the oxygen levels plummeted. The virus spread
throughout the world and none were able to find its cure. Many humans writhed in pain as life
slowly left their eyes and their breaths left their mouths
My head aches when I think about it, Lynx, Mother Tiger stammered.
Mother, I feel sad for the humans. Are they fine now? I want to see how they look like, Lynx
said.
Im so sorry, Lynx, Mother Tiger replied, sadness in her voice.
Mother, I want to go to the city. Ill go there alone if you dont want to take me, Lynx argued,
stubborn as he was.
Its not that, Lynx. There arent any humans left anymore. If you really want me to, I can take
you to the Human Museum. You can see skeletons, creations, inventions. They have videos and
photos, Mother Tiger said.
Lynx was shocked. Huh? Mother, you should have protected them for me.
Lynx shed tears upon his mighty young stripes.
Mother Tiger could do nothing but wipe the drops on stripes.

ENDLESS BARS

Seven months in jail has made me numb. I forget things that have happened and I remember
what never took place. Ive been beaten. The scars on my body say so. I dont know the reason,
though. I must have done something wrong

- Preety Dhungana

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Aug 2, 2015-Lying on my back on the soft green grass, I was looking up at the endless skyso
deep, so clear and so blue, with milky white clouds, like the waves in the ocean in motion.
Rehaan was beside me doing the same; although I was not sure what he saw up there, he seemed
to be enjoying himself. Nisha was preparing something for us to eat. The sun was shining bright,
but it wasnt scorching. Its warmth was complemented by the coolness of the mild breeze. As an
icing on the cake, a magnificent eagle came hovering into view. I turned to see Rehaan. His eyes

twinkled. I looked back at the eagle, which was now encircling the perimeter I could behold, and
in no time, I wasnt on the ground anymore. I had become the bird up there, taking part in the
most carefree flight. I was so high... I felt so freethings were perfect.
But suddenly, I found my eyes blurring with tears. They flowed down my cheeks, past the ears to
my hair, and I could see again. I was on the ground again, but I could see me still up there,
flying. Not freely though. Between me and my eyes were bars. There were bars surrounding me.
So my flight was not carefree this time. I banged against them every time I hurled myselfin
every direction I headed. I looked around. The clear blue sky had turned grey. The unlimited
horizon had shrunk into a rectangular frame. Inside which was metrappedjailed.
Where was Nisha? Where was Rehaan? I could guess where Nisha could be at this time. But
Rehaan? When was the last time I saw him? When we were gazing at the sky...but that was just a
moment ago...maybe that hadnt been real?
Nisha used to talk about him a lot. She had given him the name. The name that was bookended
by our initialsR and N. Never did I take that name seriously. But today I saw him. He was
there beside me. So distinct. I knew it was him. It was Rehaan. Who says birth is always
concrete? I realised Rehaan was born when she had imagined him. I experienced the power of a
womans imagination, which could make me see someone who wasnt real in this world, and
recognise and love and feel so responsible for. I understood why the Almighty chose a female to
be the mother.
The door was opened when dawn broke. My family enclosed themselves in one of the chambers
of my heart. I walked outsideoutside which is actually inside. There are still bars that I cannot
cross. In fact, Ill be charged if Im even seen close to them.
Seven months in jail has made me numb. I forget things that have happened and I remember
what never took place. Ive been beaten. The scars on my body say so. I dont know the reason,
though. I must have done something wrong. How could I? How could a father of such a beautiful
child do something so wrong? I would never want Rehaan to see me like this.
Your father has come.

He must have brought the warm clothes I had asked for last month. It is extremely cold here.
Thank God this month wont be as difficult as the past one.
I took a jacket out from the bag and wore it. There were some more clothes. I did not check to
make sure. I somehow knew that there were just clothes because I had asked for clothes. Things
have changed. There was a time when I could expect much more.
Once, when I had my scouts camping in grade eight...it was my first night stay away from home,
that too for 21 days. My father had packed my luggage. I wasnt curious then as well. But every
time I opened my bag for something, I found chips or chocolates or cheese or gum; layer after
layer. Maybe I took them for granted then. I wasnt that delighted then. Im not now.
Now I know its just clothes. Not because Im a grown up now. Its because hes somebody elses
father too.
The power of a woman. I always believed that my father loved me more than my mother. But
when she left us, I lost my father tooI am a man myself, but I could never understand why my
mothers absence affected his love for me. My father and mother replaced their spouses with
people who are complete strangers to me. My father was my father; my mother was my mother.
I never had to see them as each others spouses. But now, when I think of my parents, I have to
think about those strangers too, who inhabit the intimate spaces in their lives, more than I can
ever now. I cannot expect much from them. When I desperately want to get out of this jail, this
thought crosses my mind, leaving me clueless...Where will I go if they free me? Then I get
scared of freedom. I feel like begging for imprisonment a little longer. I feel wanted here. Yes,
this must be the reason why they publish Wanted notices for criminals. Criminalsthe rejected
isolates.
The identity of a criminal gives more of a sense of belongingness and safety to me than the
identity of a son. My fellow criminals, even the jailors, seem like family, in the same way my
parents are part of some other families. I feel at home here. I feel accepted.
As I think about this, I suddenly have my doubts about Nisha.
Will she wait for me? What if she leaves me like my mother left my father and me? Suddenly my
beautiful dream looks so futile. I discard the dreamwhich Nisha had shown me. Suddenly I

find so much meaning inside these bars. I find trust here. Trust that I will never be unwanted
here. I find stability. Ill always remain a criminal here. Their behaviour will never change. Ill
always be charged with going close to the bars but Ill never be barred. Things will never change.
I abort the dream. The dream wont recur. What about Rehaan? He existed. He wont now. Isnt
that murder? Erasing someones existence. Who says murder is always concrete?
When I think about that, I understand my father. I have no complaintsno complaints with
anyone on earth. My eyes blur again. When the liquid flows, I see no sky, no wings, no blue, no
white. I see me, bars, grey, rectangle and nothing else

IN SEARCH OF HAPPINESS

A man realises that satisfaction is all he needs to be happy

- SANTOSH KOIRALA

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Jul 26, 2015-Its a girl! a woman hollered(give a large shout) from inside the OR. The world
before Ishaan shattered; it was the one thing he did not want to hear at the moment.
He was walking back and forth anxiously along the corridor just outside the room where his
wife, Mina, was giving birth to a child. He already had two daughters, ages six and two, Nisha
and Preety; now he had three. He was expecting a son this time; but it seemed like fate was
testing him, again. After hearing the woman holler, Ishaan walked towards the front door

hastily, stepped outside and shut it close with a loud bang and left the house. He didnt even look
at his daughter. He showed up later in the evening, drunk.
In the days that followed, Ishan began acting as a complete stranger to his own family. He left
home early in the morning and returned later in the evening, long past his usual time. Every
time Mina tried to approach him, he would put on a sullen face. At evenings when he came early,
his daughters would scamper towards him with the hope that their father would scoop them up
from the floor and throw them into the air, only to fall back into his safe arms--like in the old
days. But to their dismay, he would turn a blind eye and walk away towards the door. To comfort
their broken hearts, Mina, standing beside them, her eyes brimming with tears, would say,
Come here my darlings, I will do it for you; your father is tired today. The daughters could not
comprehend their apathetic father. In time, Ishan rarefied his house. But when he did, he would
be inebriated and would beat his wife until his own hands hurt. The children could always feel
the violence in the next room; it wouldnt let them sleep. Nisha used to hold her sister tight until
she stopped shivering. As Nisha grew older, she understood the reason behind her mothers
suffering. She knew that it was because her father had wanted a son. What is it in a boy that our
father wants one so much? she used to ask her mother. I will make my father prouder than a
son ever will, she assured her mother. These days will be over, mother.
Ishaans apathy injured his wife and children. Mina started earning her own money from a
sewing job and was growing to become an independent woman. She never revealed her
sufferings to her children; never once did she foul-mouth Ishan.
One evening, as Nisha climbed into her bed after helping her mother with her daily chores, she
saw through the window two people standing outside their gate. Though she didnt exactly know
what was happening, she could clearly figure out the silhouette of her father, talking to a woman
she had never seen before. She slowly opened the window as her father said, Wait for me at the
station; I will be there at six tomorrow morning. They hugged each other and the woman left.
After a while, her father entered the house and went to bed without a word. Baffled by her
fathers strange, sober rendezvous with a strange woman, Nisha lay on her bed alongside her
sister, hoping for a better tomorrow.
Early next day, she could hear her mother wailing from inside the kitchen. She hastily walked
towards the sound. Her father was screaming vehemently: All of this is your fault: you dont

want to see me happy, you never wanted to give me a son. I am leaving you now. Her mother
lay crying in one corner; her father, with a suitcase in his hand, started towards the door. She
ran after her father, yelling: Where are you going? When will you return? Her father shoved
her away and walked out of the house.
Not long after that day, Ishan married the strange woman from the strange rendezvous. Ishan
soon became the happy father of a son: all that he had ever wanted. Life was not easy, though,
for the new family--Ishans menial job at a shoe store could hardly pay for his spendthrift wife.
Besides, they had to think about the future: how could they afford to send the baby boy to a good
school? He was in desperate need of a job that could provide a fair salary. The only way he could
pay for his wifes extravagant spending was by flying into some Arab country and putting
strenuous effort into a couple of extra bucks. And so he did. His son had just turned 2 when
Ishan left for Iraq.
There he found a job at a gas station. He never spared free time for himself. He managed to do
overtime during the weekend. After receiving the stipend at the end of each month, he would
call home to speak to his son.His new wife never sympathised with him: each month, she would
ask him for more and more money. After a few months, one telephone conversation led to her
saying I will leave you if this is all you can offer us.One early morning, she called him and said
Its time we send our son to a boarding school; you have to send in all your savings for his
admission. Ishan did as demanded; he gladly sent all his savings through remittance. As days
passed by, he began to feel more and more distanced from his wife. After a few weeks, his wife
wouldnt respond to his calls. Ishan was scared.
Late one night, he tried to call her. It was only when he had already started losing hope that
someone picked up. The voice of a man came through the receiver. Youd better not call this
number again, yelled a coarse voice. Ishans senses left him; everything turned dark. It was as if
time stood still for a moment. He wished it was a nightmare; but alas, everything was real. He
fumbled towards the bathroom to take a shower and to return to reality. He began
contemplating his life; where had he gone wrong?
He spent his night in the shower sobbing, cursing himself for his naivet. Waves of memories of
his three daughters, his faithful first wife swarmed in. He remembered how indifferent he had
been towards those innocent children. Surely, they deserved love from their father. His

obsession for a son had led him here today. He thought about his wife who had always been
there when he needed her; yet he abused her and left her to suffer alone. He realised that it was
satisfaction all one needs to become happy. He lay crying his laments in the shower all night.
Few days after that tortured night, he managed to put himself on a plane back home. When he
landed at the airport, he couldnt figure where he ought to headthe first person he could think
of was his old wife but he couldnt dare to call her--maybe she had already settled with another
man. But he wanted to see his daughters one more time; he wanted to apologise to those
innocent kids. Gathering some courage, he got on a bus and headed home. There he saw his
three daughters playing in the yard. His wife was busy with her sewing.
Nothing had changed since he had left. Nisha saw her father and scampered towards him. He
held her in his hands and lifted her up. In the air, in his arms, he kissed her forehead.
The writer is a student of agriculture in Chitwan.