Hazy Dreams

Hazy Dreams

The typical hariyo Parda , the unique character of any 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 a 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, mid-aged women with a well-built body complimenting her nickname, 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 has a son whom everyone calls Ramey but due to his immense love with Sylvester Stallone’s movies, he likes 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 that would engulf him and he just wanted to get far from that. The advertisements of employment opportunities in the Middle East was a perfect gate away for him. He had heard dreadful stories of the desert but the big bold letters are written in Salary column always lured him towards those posts.  To fuel his fire for the middle east was one of the regulars of Bhatti, Tikaram Bajey. He claimed himself to be an agent of a big recruiting company in the 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 the middle east so strategically inside Rambo’s head that he was ready to pay Bajey a huge sum for the necessary documents and visas. And the icing on the cake was Bajey never had to pay a dime in Bhatti. It was his “consulting fee”. Maybe that’s why he grinned so much, showing his disgusting teeth rotted by regular use of khaini.

Opposite of the Bhatti, there is a finance company where Vishal;  is working as a finance manager.  The 24-year-old chap didn’t get the post due to his extraordinary CV or experience but through ‘gift” by his father who also happened to own that place. After working a few months, the same “ gift” seems “torture “ to him. He never wanted to work in the 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’s case was different. His thick-skinned dad had little effect no matter how much he protested. Vishal could not take it anymore and that night he snuck in his dad’s room, stole a bundle of cash and ran away.

On that 15^th day, Rambo wore his best cloth, packed a bag while whistling his best song  “Don’t worry ama” he said “ You don’t have to work anymore. 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 in Qatar. Tika Ram Bajey had promised to meet Rambo at the Airport 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. A 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.  He wants to call his dad and beg for forgiveness but he is too ashamed and scared. 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  ,” ek glass chang”.   Motti 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.