A record of how my birthday was made special by the twitteratties…. A big thanks to those who have enough time to do nothing…
Have you ever noticed, that you’re NOT hip… No, not at all… Or rather surprised that you ARE, very much so.
If yours truly demands to know, how you arrived at the conclusion, would you have an answer? Or you start looking sideways, as if stumped by a question from your grandmother, asking you, who gave you the greatest pleasure while making out. It’s not that you can’t remember, but that the question makes you jump, just by virtue of where it is originating from or why was it asked in the first place. The sequence of answer gets lost and you’re gaping, with enough space between your jaws to let a whizzing Malinga yorker get inside your throat (Now don’t blink as if Malinga is a restaurant in Kathmandu’s King’s way – which happens to be true – and if Yorker means resident of New York).
I’ve spent almost 58 years – yet to celebrate my birthday on 18th June this year – trying to explain the world it’s not easy being me. The worst part is, I am not sure if I’m going to celebrate my b’day as PM (what a spectacle it could’ve been). I’ve already signed to make some Congress guy as my successor.
It starts right with the first part of my name, Babu, which translated in English means ‘a kid’. Just imagine me explaining everyone – in the voice that I have – that I’m not a kid anymore, while almost becoming senior citizen. I, a senior leader of UCPN (some mistake it for Union of Confused/Corrupt People of Nepal) Maoist, have to request people to spell both parts of my name, so that it sounds adult (and Godly). How difficult is that?
One of my unwritten resolutions this year and for past few years has been, to write. And write as regularly as I can. It would be too much to ask to write everyday on these columns, from a person labeled as ‘Your Laziness’ by some people who know Yours Truly closely.
But sometimes, you beat yourself and expectations you have from yourself.
As yours truly writes this, he fears if the dust has already been settled on the issue revolving around the Army Chief (of course the official army of Nepal). But fearless that he pretends to be, yours truly is almost sure the last word is yet to be said on the issue – which he assumes would be a big Amen – as the powers that be pledge another round of commitment on national TVs with a look on their face, which say Man-You-Still-Believe-Me-Don’t-You? The whole TRP grabbing episode is likely to be followed by a more private-and-only-comrade –journos-invited-for drinks served by the yet unofficial but more influential combatant outfit (Did you ever witness former RNA men chanting slogans other than Yes Sir or Hajur Saap, whichever has easier spelling?).
As the major players (not to be mistaken by Major General kind of post) of the issue go round and round, probably trying to catch the other’s tail and stamp on it, with spiked football boots, hardly realizing it’s their own tail, until of course they holler with pain, we – yours truly along with thousands of mouthless people (nimukha janata) – are left wondering, is this the biggest shithole we are in, after we conveniently flayed the British troops and ended getting Malaria prone region as a reward? While the already-in-grave British Army question the abovementioned statement, we ignore it – saying this is as trivial an issue as writing a constitution, working for development, Bhutan acquiring nuclear arsenal from North Korea or President Obama signing stimulus package in an office where President Clinton got his package stimulated.
Just like you, yours truly (because he is yours truly), has also heard about foreign interference on our nation. Just the other day the PM, or was it one of the many ex-PMs that we have, was speaking about some country interfering in Nepal.
The best thing is about this is that we often forget who says it. Forget the vested interest of the person saying it, we often take it for granted that we are being interfered. The worst part is, we’re becoming used to interference and also being told that we’re being interfered.
They said: Geeks shall inherit the earth. Yours truly agreed to it, of course since it was said by the geeks themselves. But being a quintessential Nepali, he has now decided to add a condition, post agreement and sans shame (of course).
If geeks shall inherit earth; Goons shall inherit Nepal.
Before explaining, or rather defending his stance, yours truly would like to go in a flashback mode. Eventually, he made a trip to the cricket match again (quite a trip through the capital alleys… oops, roads, especially during the ‘rush hour’, where the only part missing is rush). On a bright sunny day, Nepal played Malaysia, for what eventually would be its first title in the Under-17 category.
It is sometimes surprising to see how quickly the intelligence travels. It is exciting, even intoxicating at times, when intelligence travels to and through the youngsters (compared to the older politicians we have, who are either incompetent or corrupt and sometimes both on the same day).
Yours truly was on the cricket ground to witness Nepal’s teenagers –this time, they say their age is actually Under-17 and not ‘thereabouts’, missing the mark by a small matter of 3-4 years – take on the mighty UAE (mighty might sometimes refer to the petro power too, not only the skills with red cherry and willowy staff) in the semi-final of what they term as the Elite Cup (the word ‘elite’ being the key, perhaps referring to so few teams participating and some pulling out).
Yours truly got it in a mail. Hopes you would like it too… How many Maoists does it take to screw in a light bulb? 1) The light bulb cannot be changed — it has to be smashed. 2) Forget the light bulb, talk of screwing a country.