The permissive of my life
Its 9 am in the morning, after an hour school bell rings, time to get ready. The Nepali songs are tuned on the old VCD player. The jacks of loud-speakers are connected giving the stereo music, making home as my small stadium. I am in love with it. It’s a part of my life, one hour of morning time with the old video cassettes player. Mom scolding was too common, due to headache of music, often she used to disconnect the supply of current towards my room. But my love for music was as it…………………… the 1974 A.D, Sugam Pokherel Highway album, and others artist………… few pirated music were available at my home, coz original cassettes costs triple money.
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| Sanju Adhikari and Me, Daejeeling,Museam |
For neighbors it was one of the headache time of a day, for their children of my age was one of the best time as mine. I used to not listen of any-elders. Musical background, being neat and tidy for school, smell of Bajaj almond oil over the hair, sometimes coconut oil, was a part of one hour routine. Iron on the shirt and pant were compulsory to look smart. Actually, I wanted to impress people around me, my friends (esp. girls) and teachers.
My parents bought me cycle when I was a kid. I was only the son who had his own bicycle among my friends circle. My uncle used to teach me cycle. There was football and other games to play at house but I used to love ride bicycle. I was allowed to ride bicycle after my school. I didn’t used to give my bicycle to my sisters to ride, so I used to get beating of my father. When I was around 12-15 years, I used to ride ladies cycle of my sister. I had a desire to get a new bicycle but desire remains desire till today. Father bought bicycle for sisters for going to tuition. Going with friends along the long distance in bicycle was one of the memorable events of my childhood. Riding bicycle, trying to catch the bikes moving, sometimes got wounded by small accidents. I tried to hide all those small wounds, so that parents will not scold me and beat me.
Once will ironing clothes, I was sitting on the bed and kept iron side on it. Due to the force of thigh on the clothes of bed, the hot iron kissed my thigh muscles. It took a bigger wound on my muscle. In order to hide the wound, feared of father biting, I wore pants to cover the thigh wound. The pain of wound made me realize that I was going to die soon. When parents saw it, father gave a bad look, and started to clean wound by betadine, he dint beat for it, I used to cry much on pain. I used to go school in half-pants. Girls used to laugh at my dress up. But soon it was my daily routine for a month. I was looking sexy at that get-up. Once a week, father with the help of mustache uncle used to clean my wound. Fat mustache uncle used to live five houses far from our house. He was one the businessman at Illam district. He ran to Terai, after his family was robbed by “dhakhu”. He was too strong, and was around 90 kilograms in weight. He was black in skin color with Indian ascent in his voice. He used to stay most of his times in the office of father which we called “gathi”. He was so big, I used to afraid of going in front of him. Later on, he was one of my favorite uncles. Uncle has two sons and a daughter who were elders than me but I used to call them as my friends for which I got bad words from my parents. I used to treat them as my friends and call them as friends, never respected them as brothers and sisters. Still today, I am not able to respect these friends as brothers, as they are 4-5 years elder than me. I developed a habit of saying sister to uncles daughter, when she got married few years ago. But with brothers till today I act as friends.
With a fat mustache uncle, he used to hold my hands and legs tightly and fat mustache uncle used to clean wounds. He was such a bad man while cleaning these wounds. He didn’t have sympathy over me. “mottu uncle if I was stronger than you then I will hit you so much that you will never forget me in my life”, I used to say in my hearts. The words that used to come from my mouth in pain were, “they are killing me, mothers help me, they are killing me…………..” till today I have got the marks of new skin in my thing which reminds me about the iron incident of my school age. The fat mustache uncle was kind and loving guiding me each step in my life but was too bad when he used to care wounds.
Once, sisters were planning to go picnic to near tea garden located around 3-4 kilometers away from home. Tea garden was one of the picnic-spot for children, the water that flows through the pipes used to spread over the blue sky and fall like a rain. That was one of the favorite scene to observe. I was also willing to join picnic of sisters group but my father denied. So I was crying in a loud pitch. Mother in her kind behavior tried to stop my crying. She gave me money to buy noodles and told not to join picnic. I was happy to get money. I ran to the shop, which was two houses after ours. The shopkeeper uncle was my brother, relations made by our parents. He was scolding his elder son. The elder son was in age of my sister. He was friend of my sister, also the classmate of my sister. He was also joining the picnic group. He was too angry with his father scolding, he used quarrel with them also. I used to feel guilty that I couldn’t quarrel with my father coz I used to get his belt beatings. I bought noodles and was moving my way towards home. The brother son showed his anger to the near dog laying aside him. The dog was barking towards brother, again brother showed his angry by picking up stone and hit it. The dog was also willing to show his anger. He just jumped on me and bite at my upper chest part. The dog has already bitten two others people in the society. It was given a tetanus needle around a year ago. People used to say dog was mad. After certain hours, my father started his Honda motorbike and took me to the hospital to have a tetanus vaccine. I was afraid of needle that doctor bought in hand. My father strongly held my hands and legs with the help of the doctors assistant, took off my pants, and doctor gave a vaccine at my back hips. I used to cry in pain. Father bought a fruit juice and a packet of noodles. I was again happy inside but still crying slowly in pain. It was continuous routine once in a month. Once in a month I used to get a fruit juice and a packet with noodles with the pain of vaccine. At that age I was at grade 2 or 3 studying at DJVM School. I used to see school bus passing away from the medical. After getting vaccine, father used to drop me to school on his Honda bike, which I used to dream to ride when I will grow up.
To be continued………………………….