| Dumbao |
Posted
on 25-Sep-02 12:32 PM
JIRA,
Here is another one, my account of some dudes that I came across a while ago, when I was still back home, especially Dasahin being right around the corner. It is just an account and take it as such. Enjoy it as any other story you come across in Sajha.
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It must be 2042 B.S., right before the Dasahin, a constant down- pour had washed off the Malekhu Bridge over the Malekhu River. This bridge, being on the Prithivi Rajmarg, was an important part off the highway, as everyone preferred this highway to the Tribhuvan highway, through Naubishe, Daman and Hetauda.
I was on my way to Biratnagar on a nice start of a little vacation. There was no night bus service available and all the night buses were operating only in the daylight, because of the problem mentioned above.
The normal journey of the day was broken into two phases. The first phase took us to the eastern part of the town Malekhu, and the second part resumed from the other end of the town, after crossing over the river over a makeshift bridge; a bunch of bamboo poles tied together with big gaps in - between. My bus arrived Malekhu at 10 AM on a crispy sunny morning.
The river was divided into two parts, at the point where the make shift bridges were erected, so one had to actually go over two little of them in order to get across. About 50 yards downstream both these branches of the river converged again to become one larger mass of furious water, like in a hurry to get to it’s destination, Trishuli. The river ran into Trishuli about 300 yards downstream from the bridge, which was fully swollen with the recent downpour as well, seemed like a furious black serpent at a distance.
While crossing the speedy river, as the water was about five feet under the makeshift bridge, one dare not stand up and look around, nor look at the river directly underneath. To make the case even worse only one person could go over it at one time. So people told me to crawl on my hands and knees and look away to the western part of the town. That is what I exactly did and crossed the river safely and, arrived on the other side. There were a lot of bystanders enjoying the scene, some came from the nearby villages, and some were the travelers themselves, waiting for their turn or having had just crossed the little bridge.
As I was standing and watching rest of the people of my bus maneuver thorough that scary ordeal, there came these four guys with baggy pants and Michael Jackson jackets on, singing, dancing and talking loud. Everyone on my side of the river gave way to these overly confident looking men. They were going to Kathmandu and, thus, had to go to the other side of the river for the continuation of their journey. They had heard enough of the obstacle that lay ahead of them. So they wanted to make sure what they had heard was true (true Truth-seekers J). So they all lined up on the edge of the bluff gazed at the crowd down below, people waiting for their turn to cross the bridge. Only one person could cross the little rough, shaky bamboo-bridgeat at one time.
I heard one of them say " Raddiz bhayecha som yehata! Pura rasta ra pul pani ta bagayecha ni hau tyo kholale ta!"
Yet Another added boldly" aanch! Ke ke no hola bhaneko ta. Somharu! Cheruwaharu! yeta darai basis bhane hami kahile pani KATHZ pugdinau la! "
One of them had a Stereo on his shoulders. He seemed to be a student of break- dance that was quite popular in those days. He was singing along Micheal Jackson, between the puffs of his YAK cigarette " Beat it! Beat it!” puff-puff “ No one wants to be defeated....” puff- puff………….." it don’t matter who’s wrong or right. Just beat it! Beat it "…………..and Exhaled like a chimney. Suddenly he exclaimed " aamaaaani! What the fu**. kachada bhayecha ni yeha ta hau, Bro haru! Pul lai ta khaini ko dibbaaa jasto kachyak – kuchuk parecha ni Badhi le ta som! Rella po bhayecha ta " Like the reality bites.
Again the first one urged “ Hamile chahi aaja yeha dhila gari basnu hundaina aba,”
Looking at the line of people, waiting for their turn to cross the bridge, the other one echoed the first one’s sentiment “ Keta ho! Aba yeha hamile kuri basyau bhane hamro paali ta jug ma pani aaudaina la. “
The Break- Dancer said “ Yaaanch! Somharu! Rella nagara na! Maile ta KANKAI ko kasto kasto Badhi ma Swimz garera par greko chu ni ho! Aaat ta ho ni ! Sansaarma sabaibhanda thulo Haati hau, haatti bahnda Thulo Chora ko chaati ke. Hamile Paudis dinu parcha ni ho.” Thus speaking he set his stereo on the ground, pulled a long scarf and a plastic sac out of his jacket’s innermost pocket, shoved it in the plastic bag and tied the stereo on his waist, vertically. The third one reluctantly spoke, “ Hami ta khatara HONGS ma hurkeko thitta haru po ta, hamile garna nasakne ke cha bhana ta som haru”. Like darai darai , ha ma ha milaudai……
The crowd was enjoying every bit of the conversation and the gestures they were making specially the guy tying his stereo to himself. The water wasn’t so clear at the center, but was clear enough closer to the banks so that one could see the pebbles on the river floor, but the current was too much at the center again.
COntnued.....................
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| Dumbao |
Posted
on 25-Sep-02 12:33 PM
So they slowly descended the bluff toward the riverbank and prepared to cross it on foot.
First I saw the break-dancer enter the water. The others were a little hesitant. About knee deep water he stopped, turned around and shouted “ oh Somharu! Kasto Lacchi jasto ubhie baseko. Aau!” The third one said, “ aaja chahi raaddiz hola jasto cha”. The first one said “ Aaah! Som pani ke aaimai jasto kura gari baseko ,Aau!”. Break-dancer yelled on top of his lungs “ Yaaanch ! som ta kasto darayeko! Hamile ta bacchai dekhi paudi khelna sikeko po ho ta. Bagaudaina yesto kholale”
The third one was a little wiser I guess. He was reluctant to get into the water as the other two also stepped in and, after couple of steps in the water, turned around to persuade the third one. But he was scared. So they spent about five minutes discussing with the third one.
In the mean, time, I saw the Break- dancer half way in the middle of the river and was waiting for the rest of his friends to join him. The water seemed to be chest- high at the point he was standing. “ yeh somharu ! malai hernus, Yo nathe kholale kehi napdaina”. He was waving and yelling simultaneously at his bretheren.
Suddenly I heard a roar, a roar from the crowd, like from thousands of demons’ throat. Someone noticed the B-dancer had lost his balance and said “ la bhagwan! Dubyo ! Dubyo !Bachau! Bachau!” I looked at the crowd and, seeing everyone turn pale, looked towards the river. The B-dancer was nowhere in sight. Two of his friends were still in the water but out of danger, and the third one was ashore.
Thirty seconds later the b-dancer appeared in the water about 100 yards downstream. He was struggling to regain control, to stand up and at the same time gasping for air. Soon he disappeared.
Everyone was quite, as if someone in the family had died. Their eyes were fixed at the spot where the swimmer had disappeared. The people crossing the bridge stopped doing so. Seemed like the birds stopped flying and chirping, it was like the lull before the storm, comparable to the aftermath of an avalanche.
Minute had passed and no sight of the B-dancer. Everyone was thinking about the unthinkable, and the crowd started saying like “ Hey! Rama!”, “Hey Bhagwan”. I heard someone even say “ Aaatamalai chir shanti milosh”. I just wanted to see that guy one more time. I do not know why, but I did.
Next thing that I saw resembles a dream but it was true. As everyone was helplessly watching the river flow towards where it met Trishuli in an utter silence, there emerged three guys, including the B-dancer. I could not believe my eyes, I pinched myself and still saw these two other guys dragging b-dancer out of the water about 50 yards shy of the juncture between Malekhu and Trishuli. Everyone sighed a sigh of relief like a burden was off their shoulder; I do not know why I felt so. They brought Mr. B-dancer to the bank, performed CPR and send him on his way.
Later I found out that these rescuers were no other than the local people, from Dadhing beshi, which is across Trishuli, on the other side of Malekhu. These were normal people who often had crossed Trishuli with their cattle( Gai-Bhaisi), even when it is not suitable to swim. Daring, courageous, determined and hard working. Somehow they had heard that a guy had gotten in the river with the intent to cross it and, these people were watching his moves very closely. They were the first ones to notice B-dancer slip off of his grip, and thus had jumped in the water to save him.
Now there might be a question razing through the readers mind as to how come the crowd did not notice these gentlemen earlier.
The truth was - them being highly skilled and, thence, experienced, in the matter as aforesaid - in a river rushing down the mountain with high current, as they later explained logically, it is always a better idea to enter the water further downstream from the point of the person (or such) entering the water above. For that reason, having had the point of the entrance so calculated and a plan so devised, by the time they entered the water B-dancer was merely 10 feet away from them, under the water. Next thing they had to do was to grab him by his jacket and pull him out of the water. Since they had entered the water from the other bank (eastern) and, were already walking towards their point of entrance as soon as they spotted Mr. B-dancer in the water, no one in the crowd on my side noticed them. Later it turned out that people of that part of the river were aware of the plan. Also, They knew for sure Mr. B-dancer was going to drown, as he did not seem to pay realize what he was stepping into.
I do not know what the B-dancer and the party thought or said of this whole saga, but for me this was a memorable incident, for I got to experience the natural brevity of our village people. This is a story of great courage that will remain in my mind vividly for years to come.
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