Hazy Dreams

Hazy Dreams


The typical hariyo ,unique character  of most of the typical Bhattis  in town, where few of us dared to enter and the authentic taste  hugged the soul so badly that we keep going there. Sekuwa, Bhutan, Bara with big gulp of sweet chyang shared with friends.. Nothing can beat that feeling.

This is a story of  one of the typical Hariyo Parda  Bhatti run by   Motti didi, a mid aged women with huge body, warm smile and typical Newari tone. Her piro alu, spicy momo and sweet chyang were famous over her regulars. Business was doing well.  Motti didi had son whom everyone called Ramey but  due to  influence with Sylvester Stallone , he liked  himself to be called Rambo. The young chap  never wanted to be in that Bhatti. He felt like dirty walls of those Bhatti  were  a cage which would engulf him  and he just wanted to  get far far from that. The advertisements of  employment opportunities in middle was perfect gate away for him. He had heard dreadful stories of the desert but  the big bold letters written in Salary column always lured him towards those posts.  To fuel his fire for middle east was one of the regulars of Bhatti, Tikaram Bajey. He claimed himself to be a agent of a big recruiting company  of middle east. Though he was Bhramin, he never hesitated to gulp down the delicacies of Bhatti ;that  other Bhramin race would claim “impure”.  Bajey implanted seed of middle east so strategically inside Rambos head that he was ready to pay Bajey huge sum for the necessary documents and visa. And  icing on the cake was Bajey never had to pay in Bhatti. It was his “consulting fee”. May be that’s why he grinned so much, showing his disgusting teeth rotted by regular use of khaini.

Opposite of the Bhatti, there was a finance company where Vishal; same age group of Rambo is working as   finance executive.  The 24 year old chap didn’t get the post due to his extra ordinary CV or experience but through ‘gift” by his father who also happened to own that place. After working few months,  same “ gift” seems “torture “ to him. He never wanted to work at first place. He misses his bike rides, dates with young women and late night parties. The rich spoilt brat was brought from lavish life to the tie suit; 9-5  environment and as Rambo, the neat and well architecture walls of the office was engulfing his ambitions and youth.

The discrepancy between these kids and parents ambition would result in often quarrel and unrest; Moti didi’s threshold limit crossed and she handed over her lifelong savings to the Tikaram Baje. “Tero life set vo mora” Bajey grinned and promised to be back in 15 days.  Vishal case was different. His thick skinned dad had little effect no matter how much he protested.  As result Vishal snuck in his dads room, stole a bundle of cash and ran way.

On that 15th day, Rambo wore his best cloth, packed a bag while whistling his best song  “Don’t wory maa” he said “ You don’t have to work any more. I will earn double what you earn a month”. Motti didi was listening to her son while trying to control her tears. Rambo wore his new boot  and said  he would call her mom when he landed Qatar. Tika Ram Bajey had promised to pick Rambo at  5pm.

Vishal  had flown away from the cage. He  had pocket full of money and  heart full of ambition when he left his home. Few days went smoothly with this regular party, booze and girls.The thick bundle in his pocket got slimmer every day . Everything started to haunt him. His ambition went haywire, dream jumped off the roof and he was left alone with 100 rupees note in his pocket. He had no other option, no other way out. He was strolling with heavy heart and empty pocket when he reached in front of his office. He stared at his office with eyes full of tears, called his dad and said , “ I am sorry, I am coming back dad” in a muffled voice. He couldn’t talk more. His morality was killing his soul .

As he turned back  , suddenly his eyes were on that hariyo parda which he had seen  million of time but never it looked so inviting. His foot started to walk itself and  led him inside. Before the bold act of redemption , he wanted to get drunk .“ Sauni” he said  ,” 1 glass chang”.   Moti didi served him with her signature smile. As Vishal was gulping sweet chyang, his eyes stopped at a young chap cleaning dirty dishes . He tried to figure out who it was but the cigarette smoke filled room was too hazy.

Seeing this moti didi  smiled said” Tyo mero choro, Ramey

Tikaram  Bajey never came.


2 thoughts on “Hazy Dreams

  1. Anon

    Nice writing. Although I do not quite like the accent. Quite biyoganta (sad) ending. Crushed dreams? Do you really have to tie yourself to your parents to succeed ? A Nepali story written by a Nepali writer with all the typical elements of Nepali society.
    This is a typical problem with our education. It does not even teach you how to dream a proper dream, let alone show ways of realizing it.

    As we progress, we are becoming quite adept at showing/depicting our problems in most grotesque ways possible. There could be myriad reasons for it. But we are losing our skill and aptitude in solving problems. Maybe we are so engrossed in portraying our problems, we have lost our abilities of finding answers. This story portrays the problems well. There are many of us with ridiculous dreams and there are indeed too many swindlers in our society. So? is it ‘so what’? or is it ‘working for ones parents is better than having your own dream’?

    Anyway, had a nice time reading it. It will do well in a bulletin board of an NGO.

    Don’t get discouraged. Keep writing. I see a flair.



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