I love to walk alone. When I walk alone I often stand and
wait to see how things are painted. I look at grasses; my eyes perceive the
different shades of green. I look at setting sun painted in red. Seems like
everything around has its own unique color. I stare, I stand, I stand, I stare.
My eyes are wide open. I see nothing. Just nothing at all. Oh yes, I realize
that’s me. That’s really me. O my god, I’m colorless. I don’t have any colors
at all. Why could anyone forget to paint me? I open my eyes and they are vivid
with different colors all around. I suddenly want to cry.
Binod Basyal's Blog
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Monday, March 4, 2013
A Beautiful Evening
Clock strikes 5 pm. He dusts off his jacket and puts it on.
He puts on his pair of tattered jeans. He puts around his neck a muffler his
mother had knitted a good ten years back. He smells his musty old muffler,
looks at himself on a piece of shattered mirror he had kept for years, gives a
faint smile and walks out of his house.
Out of his house, as he descends downhill on his foot a cool
breeze of air starts caressing his face gently. He can still smell his musty
old muffler as he sways himself with the breeze. He does not want to think
about anything. He does not want to recall anything. He does not want to let go
of the past and does not bother to think about future; what waits for him in a
long run. He just wants to walk as long as his weary flip-flops do not give
away. He occasionally looks at passers-by but most of the time, he is too
indifferent. May be little occupied. Still descending downward he looks on the
road ahead that makes a figure of upper case English letter ‘S’ while he
himself feels like sliding over a huge Anaconda’s back. He is occupied with the
scent of wild flowers of the nearby forest and the sweet perfumes of roses that
grew on the hedges alongside the road.
When he reaches the bottom of the hill, he looks up at the
sky. The typical winter sky looks as it is being painted in different shades of
red and sees the master painter in the form of red giant ball sinking down and
down behind the distant hills. He sits down on a huge stone at the side of the
road and gazes at the rapidly sinking red fire ball. His eyes are transfixed on
the horizon. It is still 5 pm for him. It looks as if everything around him is
time proof. Suddenly he feels soft fingers covering his eyes. He can smell
fragrant aromatic air surrounding him. Then a soft breeze whispers on his ear.
‘I’ve been watching you for more than half an hour. You’ve
been gazing over the sky without even moving, like a statue. What’s the matter,
my dear?’
‘Oh god! I almost forgot you. When did you come?’
‘An hour before.’
‘Why didn’t you call me then?’
‘Just wanted to look at you.’
Still in whispers.
‘Just to look at my back?’
‘No. I was trying to figure your mind out.’
‘Had I not poked him at his back, this absent- minded boy
would have already forgotten me. Who on earth could be more absent-minded……..?’
He caresses the hands that are still closing his eyes.
‘I’m very sorry my sweetest heart. I didn’t mean that at
all. Sorry please. Now may I see my beautiful princess?’
He removes her hands and turns back to look at her face. The
smell of his musty muffler, the cool gentle breeze, the fragrance of flowers,
the red velvety sky and all the beauty of the nature he had just witnessed seem
to be in enigmatic harmony with the radiant beauty of the face of his beloved
Nanu. To him, her eyes reveal much more than that. He finds himself in those
eyes. His life seems to sprout in her eyes. Moreover, in those eyes, he finds a
reason to live.
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