8 O' Clock

Housman wrote most of his poems almost a century ago. He was a late booming scholar and a poet. Even publisher didn’t publish his poems early in his career. In his own expense he wrote and published some good poems. He became renowned poet after few years. Just like his popularity, it took me years to convine myself that his poem ‘8 O’ Clock’ was worth a mention. It is not an average poem as it may look at first.   

I read this poem first in one of the English class in RR college in Nepal. It took me few years to like it. Only a thirsty man knows the value of water. I had to experience the time to finally understand it. Experience offers a total difference, give rise to absolute wisdom to human beings. Experience changes a carpenter to Christ, a prodigal prince to Buddha, a lazy wife-abused guy to Socrates and an average Joe to ‘Sidhhartha’. And verily, all these experiences are measured in real time. Real time in the sense that: there is no before and after, past or future. The understanding of truth cannot be derived from imagination and its by products, it is the absolute study of reality. Anything created by mind is suspicious and its not absolute real.

Time is a very tricky subject and everything in this world is governed by time. Out of this world, of fantasy or spirituality, of dreams, of heaven, of God… whatever people may call, they want to describe their imagination/conviction/belief/aspiration/salvation as ‘beyond time and space’. I have tried to grasp that concept for a decade now, and yet, I have no good reason to believe such thing. I can’t simply comprehend it. People using phrases such as ‘beyond time and space’ are either stupid or fraud or phony like Indian guru who uses terms like ‘Nirbikalpa Samadhi’ or ‘mindless mind’ or ‘seventh sense’.

Without time, and without its concepts, nothing exists. Time is ultimate reality. Time is unstoppable and inevitable. ‘Before’ and ‘after’ are insignificant worlds when used with ‘time’. A bird know when its morning, a poet writes when birds start chirping, a lover knows the value of a pitch dark night, a poor soul knows when to cry for God. Only essential truth about time is: time means different things to different people and everything except time itself, give  significance to time, counts the clock, and stories it with magnificence and glory.

A man strapped and noosed, standing on the platform, welcomes a morning, hears the bird chirps listens to the bell ring in the clock tower by the church, and curse his luck, wished he was not born, perhaps makes his last stand with God, because it is not the same morning for him as for the many wandering in the market that day. One, Two, Three… Tick… Tick… Tick…he counts. For him, every second tightens the rope around his neck; every tick… tick …counts his last breath. It is 8 O’ Clock, his execution hour. Clock struck 8 O’ Clock. It is inevitable. It is the destiny.

Have we not noticed that when we are waiting for someone, a minute seems like a century? In pain and agony, second seems like an era? Just in contrast, if we have pleasure we don’t notice decades go by whistling. It is our experience that defines time, not the other way around. However, it seems to us that sometimes time comes unexpected, it strikes bell prematurely. But if we are ripe enough, we can pluck the fruit of sweetness of time and enjoy the bliss. Then ‘8 0’ Clock’ would means a completely different. Acceptance of destiny makes us ripe and wise and healthy and it negates all possible adversities of the coming days.

September 11, 2012

US, Home and Sabari

When I was kid, we had a chapter in our course book 'Ghar Chhodne Raat'. The little guy is leaving home for school or something to a different city. He is trying to sleep but he can't. Then the monologue begins. He talks and argues with himself.  That is having butterfly in the stomach, uneasy experience of anxiety and restless syndromes. During my final days in Nepal, all family members became sad and I became sad. Is it not strange that in our culture we cry when people leave home to go somewhere either for school or in marriage or just for visiting. I had never left home. I did my schooling and attended college from home. I had never been out and I hated going to relatives to spend the holidays. Women were not even allowed in airport to say Good bye on my departure day because they would make a dramatic crying scene. Even men cry when they say good bye. 'Good bye'ing is sad and melancholic. Leaving home is too.

Asian culture is very distinct in people loving their homes, relatives, even animals too deeply sometime. I remember of my room and my bed, of my old book shelf and outdated books therein. I miss it. My room was also a sitting room. Guest would come  and see all the medals hanging on the wall and ask my parents 'hey is your babu in Army?" What good those medals do when in need? Poverty is the biggest disease of all. That is my sermon, I declare. The smell of poverty is horrible. In fact, our culture is strange. We like to portray ourselves as poor, sorry people. We save money, and live a life of insufficiency. We buy land and houses but we eat and dress poor. And we quote Devkota " Garib bhanchhau tara sukhako ma jhai dhani...". In contrary, happiness is very essential for a good life.

To Devkota and all his quoters , I tell you my sermon: poverty and happiness does not blend that well, I assure you. Living with 'sukha' in poverty is not  easy but not impossible either. I was grown up in the old school philosophy  of saving for children and calling yourself poor which would be continued through generations. That is probably why I can survive in extremity with their ideology deep somewhere in my subconscious, rather than I live by my own philosophy. I live in bed bug infected cheap apartment,  still sleep on the floor, I drive 88 Buick Century and I don't have  excessive clothes although I can afford most of all the decent  luxury there is. My upbringing has made me flexible and grateful. For people in Nepal, they probably picture me living in 100th suite of then' world trade center.

I have a different home. It feels like home here now. My heart is here not because of the luxury but because of homely circumstances of ease, to enjoy freedom from commune burdens, freedom to express myself, to overcome new challenges, to run away from terrorist and gangsters in Nepal. It has a profound meaning to say that I am going home. I don't really know of I am leaving home or going home. And the night before the leaving, I ask myself, self-evaluate my decisions, look back at hard days and say- 'well, that was not so bad'. Surely God help those who help themselves. At least there are no more surprises in my GOD's department. But I will have many surprises when I go back. Needless to say, many are waiting not for me but for gifts of  I-macs , IPhones, cameras which I do not own myself. There will be people who will make commenting on my "fatness" and receding hair, often asking if I have a foreign wife yet? Why I didn't bring my white wife with me', It is really funny. Perhaps not because when I came I was probably the first one to leave home for US in that town and now each family in the neighborhood has at least a son in US, UK, Australia and Europe. I am not so fond of neighbors who intrude my privacy and nosy friends who want to know how much I make, over there. I really miss my grandmother who teaches me indifference. She is old, and tired and only her wish is to die peacefully. But even she, once in a while wants to see me married with a white girl. She is lovely, like a newborn, truly innocent.

I think of a woman who used to come to our home, almost every day. They call her 'Sabari' after Ramayan. Sabari was an uneducated, low-caste women who tasted the fruit before she feed to Lord Ram, a symbol for love and devotion. All the lower caste people were not allowed and my family did not even let them touch our house but because of her devotion and spirituality, I guess she was  authorized and could come up to our 'Baranda'. I could not possibly invite her inside or even touch her. A poor soul... I loved her and had pity on her. She was poor. We gave her food and money sometime. She would come and ask for me, and ask how I am doing. I believe her humility, love, devotion and caring was not just from her conscious self itself but perhaps from the abject poverty and rejection she was living in. Although I felt worse that I could not go against the prevailing rule, culture and system of the society to hug and invite her inside, I prayed that this stupid, arrogance, superiority of one men over another, class and caste system, poverty, and shame and of guilt of being born in low caste should disappear from the face of the world. I prayed every day that although I had no say, no power, no authority to enforce or even speak against such sins of human, sooner or later, time will change everything and all injustice and stupidity as such will go away from my home and country. I feel sad. There is poverty and there are blind beliefs, superstitions, dark heritages, funny rituals and brainwashed people. When mixed together, it makes a worst of poison to destroy humanity. I hope Sabari is still alive and visits our home often.

Home! I am coming.

America's Summary to Grandma

Apart from this annoying Paralympics, Obama's 'HOPE' oratory and stupid Harry's Lag Vegas trip, few things are going exciting in my world now. I have hope of myself and I am going home. It has  been a good run. It gave me good fight and I survived. USA gave me psychological, cultural, religious, philosophical struggles of life. One thing I can confirm to those in Nepal and all other third world countries: there are no 'MONEY GROWING TREES"  in USA, no not one, not at all. It is very depressing country. It has lost its color and it is like women in nice bikini;. just showy, of promises of opportunities, blings, lights, very surface coated, mediocre; inside there is nothing exciting. It is home of depression, crime and broken hopes. My grandma will ask me to summarize US and of my 7-8 years of stay.

Here it goes Granny:

Culture is awkward. People like Bush became President for 8 years. The highest of stupid and incapable fool. Black people think white men owe them something so they dress typical, speak their own Ebonics or something, like to stay on food stamps and other assistance forever and ever and now and then, rob convenience store and kill a Nepali guy working in there. White guys think they are really superior, God's chosen race and although in books blacks are freed, in whites people heart Black are still stupid niggers, who are fools, no good monkeys, just fit to be lynched once in a while.

Now in few years, white people will be wiped out because of their birth rate and Indian people will cover this land. Not the fake Indians, the real mustachioed Indians from Hindustan. They are everywhere. Was it Asoka who went to Nepal and said," There are more temples in Nepal than houses and more Gods than people"? I have a new statement "In US, there are more Indians than whites, and  they reproduce like rabbits and there will be better mustaches than America's idol Wild Bill."

Talking about tradition and history. Nepalese like to be proud be the nation of Mt Everest, Prithivi Narayan who united the nation, Gautam, the Buddha who taught about peace, and of Gurkhas who showed world about their courage and bravery. Americans have no good history. Yet they are one proud country. A country ruled by slave owner, who wanted freedom from British and colonies, yet want to keep some 'niggas' in the house. They killed fierce kind of Indians and brought funny ones. They idolize, not just  idolize, they worship people like Wild Bill and Jesse James, Wyatt Brother. They preserve their statues, and grave and like temple and churches announce that it is their heritage which should be turned into tourist sites like OK CORAL. And they have, trust me. To clarify grandma, the people I mentioned were ugly cowboys who raped, murdered, stole horses, robbed banks,  and later became town sheriff or marshal etc.

Education: system is good. But except few smart people up there somewhere, they are dumb as donkeys. That's why Indians are running America's IT and Chinese are making their robots, all Philippines are Nursing the country, and Jews owns all of America. Students will grow old and die but their student loans will never be paid. Peoples' average education is high school diploma.

Health Care: You get sick one time, the cost afterwards will give a heart attack. All the wealth in you and your relatives can't even pay a quarter of that bill. It is ridiculous. It is just pathetically sorry.

Religion and Churches: As expected, it has not been the house of God, it is house of all the perverts, extremists, fundamentalists, brainwashed, rapers'. White churches rape and sodomize kids. Black churches rape and sodomize neighbor's wife. Usually the pastor, leader, headman are the ones doing it. They sometimes can marry 20 and keep them as wife sisters. They smile fake and when you question them, their humility goes astray. Yet they go to all the nations to convert. Converting comes with sodomizing and raping the foreigners. How wonderful?

Security, Police : Many of them still think they are decendents of Wild Bill. Place for racism to act. White cops will beat the life out of black if opportunity prevails. Crime is everywhere. There are overcrowded prisons. And you know what the prisoners have something called 'Conjugal Visit' which I will not explain to you because of shame. Sometimes, I see at my works some girls are so desperate to offer themselves as conjugal mate, they look on internet to see the prison criminal database. That brings me to SEX and culture.

Sex and Culture: Sex is easy like buying candy at store. No sexual morality at all. If they want it, they will have it, in whichever way they like. People get pregnant at 10. Country is full of insets, sexual perversion. There are more sexual perverts and child molesters than anywhere in the world. Marriage for them is like a doll play. They marry when they like and they divorce when they like. 80% who marry divorce and 85% of them who remarry get divorce again. The step sons and step daughters sometimes do not know how many steps their parents are into by now. They even have something called "sex industry", I don't want to explain that to you.

I have more topics to go on but I don't want to sound like the jackal of  'jackal and grape story.' The most interesting and amusing thing in midst of all this, contrary to what you would think, America still attracts me. It offers something that no one anywhere offers. That's the secret. It offers freedom and hope which are like, I said earlier Women's bikini, and a curtain of uncertainty, suspense, a holy secret but when it opens there is not much to be grin about.