[Hary Adhikary, a journalist cum writer, is a highly acclaimed critic, poet and a novelist. He is known for his sharp, straight and honest criticism, frank and objective columns, and high-order literary creations. His fame as a man of letters rests in his works Ramlalko Aaakash (Collection of stories), Samsadma Ek Din (a collection of poems), Hari Adhikaryka Kavita (a collection of representative poems), Garmentki Gayatri (a collection of poems), Prati Nayak (novel,) and Sankalit Gadya Rachana, a collection of critical essays. Uday Adhikari of The Gorkha Times had a talk with Mr. Adhikary recently, and published herewith is an edited excerpt of the interview.]
What led you towards the literature?
I find this question a bit difficult to answer affirmatively. In fact, I have no clear idea about what led me to the world of letters. My family background or the society I belonged to was not conducive at all to any sort of activities related to art and literature. My father was a semi-literate farmer who must not have read any book in his entire life. But he was very much aware of the importance of education among the children to uplift a society. Hence, he, with a few like-minded friends of him, became instrumental in opening the first public school in the whole area, Beesagaon Bihabar, in the Kabhre-Palanchok District just outside the Kathmandu Valley. I was shifted from a vernacular primary school and enrolled into the newly established academy to pursue my further study. That eventually proved to be the foundation stone of my academic achievements I made later.
Looking back to my career as a writer, I was somehow convinced that maybe I was born with divinely-set inclination to the artistic, romantic field of creative writing within me. To fuel this inclination and make me a-would-be poet of some potential, I was bestowed with the patronage of my uncle Ramchandra Adhikari, a poet and multi-talented individual from my early youth. He was a source of huge inspiration for me. I grew up listening to his old-fashioned poems about the contemporary issues written in meters, in his own sonorous voice since my childhood. He was my hero who unknowingly helped develop the sacred desire in my mind to be a poet as good as himself.
Yes, you have written stories, a novel, essays and criticism, but in my opinion you always remained a poet. When I read you, the simplicity of language in your poems and the tackling of untold stories or unnoticed subject matter like in Garmentki Gayatri always invites me to a rich journey to the high-class poetry unfailingly. Would you like to share the story of your poetic journey with our readers?
Well Udaya, thanks for the compliment. In my five-decade-long journey as a man of letters I have tried my hands in different genres of literature as you have mentioned, but I believe, I am primarily a poet. My journey to the world of literature had begun as a poet and, for that matter, had begun with a bang as I won a gold medal in the prestigious annual poetry festival organized by the then Royal Nepal Academy in the year 1970. I was a youth of 18 then, known to nobody in Nepali literary circles. As the coveted medal came my way at such an early age, many eyebrow from the literary arena were raised and the editors of literary journals and critics started paying attention towards me. The popular monthly magazines Rooparekha and Madhuparka provided me with a big platform publishing my poems on a regular basis. A number of other journals followed the suit and I have been pushing forward my creative journey as a poet almost consistently with their faithful support since then.
I am not a fertile composer of poems. In my five-decade long poetic journey, I have three anthologies to my credit and a few dozens of poems published in various journals that are to be collected in an anthology yet. I have always been weak about numbers, but I believe I must have composed about two hundred free-versed poems in total so far.
My contribution to the Nepali literature as a poet, I contentedly can say, has been distinctly recognized. Literary critics have unanimously considered me as one of the most important poets who have shaped the body and soul of the modern Nepali poetry. I have always been in the primary list of poets unfailingly when a collector or editor begins to work to make an anthology of modern Nepali poems.
The first anthology of my poetry Samsadma Ek Din (2000) was awarded “Vani Nawakshitiz Book of the Year Prize” and the second collection of my poems Hari Adhikarika Kavita (2005) won “Sajha Puraskar”. Both were prestigious awards at the time when I was honored. My poem “The Rape” was considered to be the best in the genre published in Sajha Prakashan’s literary journal Garima in the year of 2006 and for it, I was awarded the Garima Puraskar.
I recall that during your stay in America, we discussed about writers and contemporary world literature over the Internet. After many exchanges, I came to realize your rich knowledge of literature. Would you like to mentions some writers and books that left deep impressions in you?
I have been an avid reader of literary works ever since the early times I developed an interest in literature. I was fortunate that I came across quality stuffs rather than the cheap ones from the very beginning as a student of literature. You may be surprised to know that my study of international literary works had begun with Russian and Bengali classics. In the late 1960s, when I was a college student and an upcoming Nepali poet, I read almost every Russian classic that was available in Kathmandu at that time. I entered the mesmerizing world of creative miracles created by great writers like Ivan Turgenev, Nikolai Ostrovsky, Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Anton Chekhov, Maxim Gorky etc. Reading those great men of letters, I came to realize what the great works of literature are meant to be. From the Russian literature I gradually shifted to English, French, Bengali and Hindi literatures. When necessitated I learnt the English language ardently. I even studied Bengali to read Bengali classics in their original versions. Thanks to the Hindi films regularly shown in the theaters in the Kathmandu Valley, and Hindi newspapers and literary journals easily available in the newspaper stalls in the city, I became proficient in Hindi without any extra effort.
To answer your query, I would name some books that made lasting impression on me at the early stage of my journey as a poet and writer:
Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, Brothers Karamazov and The Idiot, Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina and Short Stories, Ivan Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, Anton Chekhov’s short stories and plays, Charles Dickens’ The Great Expectations, Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice, O Henry’s short stories; Ernst Hemingway’s, The Old man and the Sea, Edgar Allen Poe’s poems, Gustav Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables and Hunchback of Notre Dame, Emile Zola’s Nana, Guy de Maupassant’s short stories, Charles Baudelaire’s poetry, Honore de Balzac’s short stories, Bibhuti Bhushan Bandyopahyaya’s Pather Panchali, Rabindranath Tagore’s Gora and short stories, Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyaya’s Anandamath and Durgeshnandini, Sunil Gangopadhyaya’s poetry, Manik Bandyopadhya’s Padma Nadir Majhi and Putul Nacher Itikatha, Phanishwarnath Renu’s Maila Aanchal, Parati Parikatha and Teesari Kasam, Agyea’s Shekhar Ek Jeewani and Deshanter, an Anthology of poems from various international languages, Yashpal’s Meri Teri Uski Baat, Shreelal Shukla’s Raagdurbari, Bheeshma Sahani’s Tamas and short stories, Gajanan Madhav Muktibodh’s poetry, Kunwar Narayan’s poetry, etc.
Talking about the Nepali literature and its masters of the past, I was very much impressed by Guruprsad Mainali and BP Koirala as short story writers, and by Lekhnath Paudyal, LP Devkota, Siddhicharan Shrestha and Gopal Prasad Rimal as poets in early phase of mine as a student of literature. Later, when I was introduced to the world-class poems composed by Mohan Koirala and his contemporary poets I instantly became a huge fan of them. Reading Mohan Koirala’s highly imaginative and skillfully crafted modern verses was a heart-warming experience for me. His poems have made a lasting impression upon me as a poet.
Once I happened to read journalist Binod Dixit’s a piece of memoir where he mentioned you as a very close journalist of Prime Minister’s entourage to China in 1995. That shows that in the field of journalism too, you are not novice. I think you have almost given up journalistic career now. I often wonder how a poet entered journalism.
How come, Uday, you are not aware of my pretty long professional career as a working journalist? Take note that I have been involved in journalistic career ever since I resigned from my government job in 1985. I still consider journalism as my profession. I am not of course tied up to any media house on a regular basis at present but I still contribute my write-ups as a free-lancer to various journals and papers. I have been one of the most sought-after and widely read op-ed writers for pretty long time. I enjoy that position even now.
When I put up papers to leave the government job in mid-1980s, I had planned to go to my hometown and get involved in politics, but destiny had something else in store for me. Due to some unavoidable reasons, I couldn’t leave Kathmandu at that juncture; so I had to seek a job for my livelihood in the capital. As I had good command over Nepali and English language and very close access with almost all the dissident political leaders of the country, I found journalism the most suitable profession to pursue for the time being. I was fortunate that I proved to be right in my selection of the new profession and became almost a celebrity journalist in not a long span of time. I edited and worked for the prestigious newspapers and journals like Aanshu, Pakheru, Janamanch, Nepali Awaj, Deshanter, The Independent, Shree Deurali national daily, Annapurna Post etc. I ran a weekly column on political issue in Kantipur for almost 5 years since the country’s first privately-run broad-sheet newspaper’s early days. I also worked for UPI and Voice of America for about a year during the 1990 people’s uprising against the autocratic Panchayat regime. I proudly recall that I was one of the most reliable sources of information for the agitating forces and the independent observers as well about the ongoing people’s movement during those tumultuous days in 1990.
As a working journalist I was deeply involved in trade union movements too. I was the first elected president of Nepal Press Union and took Nepali journalists’ trade union movement to the global level when I obtained membership of International Federation of Journalists (IFJ). I was the very first Nepali journalist to have been elected to the central executive committee of IFJ in an election held at Santander in Spain.
In your generation, every next writer was either a journalist or was deeply involved in politics and you were not an exception. Once I read your deeply moving article about how the then Nepali Congress president Krishna Prasad Bhattarai lost an election. You had even clearly mentioned who were the major culprits behind the scene in his own party. This deeply agitating article showcases your straight-forward nature and your deep involvement in politics. How did your affairs with politics start?
As every human being is believed to be, I am an out and out political creature. As a man of conscience, I am a devoted democrat. I believe in universal human rights. I believe in equality, co-existence and fraternity among the people of any society. Inspired by my belief in democracy and its norms and values, I became an ardent follower of late BP Koirala and his close associates like Ganeshman Singh and KP Bhattarai. I got the Nepali Congress Party membership immediately after the triumph of the democratic movement in 1990.
I am fortunate that I got a rare opportunity to work with both great NC leaders KP Bhattarai and Ganeshman Singh as their close associate, although it was in the later phase of the leaders’ life. I was not lucky enough to be close to BP Koirala, but as a fan of him, I managed to organize a public felicitation program of the great leader in 1981 under the auspices of Nepal Literary Journalists Association, of which I was the vice-president at that time. As a government officer, being instrumental to the political outcast BP Koirala’s felicitation program was a daring venture for me. But I happily took the risk and did it.
When poet Mohan Koirala was seriously ill, a kind of ‘help the poet’ campaign was triggered across the country. In Chitwan itself Yubaraj Bhusal and me collected some money and went to Bir Hospital in Kathmandu to give the money for his treatment. I recall that you were there to collect money from us as Mohan Koirala was on his sick bed. I was touched by your dedication to the poet. You and Koirala are poles apart in writing. How did you happen to be so close to Mr. Koirala?
I have been a huge fan of Mohan Koirala’s poetic talent ever since I happened to read his great poems. In the late 1960s, when I was in college and struggling to be established as a young poet, I developed an urge that I must see and be closely acquainted with as many senior poets and writers available in Kathmandu as possible. Propelled by that urge, I collected information on whereabouts of many senior writers and went to see them in person. In that context, I met several renowned writers including Mohan Koirala. In course of time, a strong bond of friendship between Koirala and me was developed and this remained intact till the great poet’s demise in 2006.
When Koirala fell seriously ill on that particular occasion you mentioned in your question, I was deeply concerned and did everything possible in my capacity to help for the treatment of his malady. Even after several weeks’ observation, the Nepali doctors failed to properly diagnose his problems. So I decided to take him to All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), New Delhi, with the consent of his wife and son. I accompanied the sick poet to the Indian capital and admitted him to the AIIMS. I even donated my blood for his operation. Thank God! With the proper treatment, the poet recovered in about a month from the malady. I recall that the senior Nepali Congress leader, Ganeshman Singh, came to the Bir Hospital to cheer up the sick poet upon my call. He gave Indian Rupees 10,000 for the poet’s treatment and ordered his personal assistant PL Singh to help our team in every possible way during our stay in Delhi for the poet’s treatment. At that time, the all helpful PL Singh was in AIIMS itself for the treatment of another Nepali Congress leader Birnath Karmacharya.
You once made a list of top ten poets in Nepali contemporary poetry. It was a risky job. It made many of your poet friends turn into foes. Your comments on books are very frank. By your every remark on contemporary books and writers, you are getting more enemies than friends but you are not turning back. What led you to take such a path of honesty? Are you worried about the contemporary writing?
The list was made simply by me and can be faulty. As you have already mentioned, making such a list was a risky venture. But I was ready to take the risk and for that matter was ready to accept every sort of condemnation thereof. I have always tried to be honest while writing about books or any sort of write-ups I come across and am asked to comment on. I believe in the principle that a critic or reviewer of any literary work must be honest to the core. I am guided by this very principle and always try to follow the voice of my heart. I do not care about anybody’s condemnation or praise.
You were an emerging poet after the generation of Bhupi Sherchan and Basu Shashi. I read some of your poems for the first time in an anthology of contemporary Nepali poems edited by Taranath Sharma. My reading of contemporary poetry began there. Following you, many poets including Min Bahadur Bista, Dinesh Adhikari, Shyamal, Bikram Subba and others established themselves. Since the arrival of Bhupi Serchan, a new interest and a kind of popularity of poetry began. A few years back, your comment on Bhupi’s poetry, including his style and contents, became very controversial. Many of your contemporary poets thought it was just a stunt that you had been producing whenever you felt crisis in your creative pursuit. When I read the same criticism in many of your interviews, I started reading your poems and surprisingly I found you very close to Rimal and Bhupi’s schooling. I still wonder how Bhupi has been over-evaluated in Nepali literature, this time, direct from our poet and critic Hari Adhikary.
I am not in the position to comment on your own perception about my poems and my place at the world of contemporary Nepali poetry. Maybe I am still nobody among the poets writing in Nepali, or maybe, I have a small space for me there. Truly speaking I do not care.
Pardon me Uday, I do not believe in your opinion that as a poet I am close to Bhupi Sherchan. No Sir, I do not belong to his school at all. In his poetry the readers find the elements of popular appeal: satire, self-pity, touch of humor, attractive alliteration and images taken from well-known areas. All these elements have made Bhupi extremely popular among the massy readers. The secret of him being overrated poet also is hidden behind this fact. I firmly believe that Bhupi is overrated as a poet.
Once I read your comment on the translation of Sumnima by Taranath Sarma and your take on it was very harsh. You said his translation was incorrect and had almost damaged the literary merit of the original text. I was a little bit shocked, and I wondered how a writer could write on another writer that way. When you were in the USA you were translating some of your own poems. It means you are very serious about translation. Will you share your experience of translating works from one language to another? In our case what went wrong in translation?
Taranath Sharma’s the above-said translation of Sumnima, BP Koirala’s highly acclaimed work of fiction, was much flawed. I was hugely shocked to read such an erroneous translation done by the scholar of Dr. Sharma’s stature. As I am used to calling a spade a spade, I did so about the translation too. To showcase my points, I published several paragraphs alongside the original Nepali text of the novel and Dr. Taranath’s English version of it in an article written for ‘Koseli’, the weekly literary supplement of the daily newspaper, Kantipur. I believe that the said piece of write-up amply provided sufficient materials to the readers to judge the quality of Dr. Sharma’s transliteration. Be assured Uday, there was nothing like baseless conclusion made by me regarding Sharma’s work of translation in that article.
Yes, I have translated some of my poems into English during my times in the US but could not continue due to some other works I was involved in. I am for quality translation of any literary works, which is not happening in the context of the Nepali literature.
You are really interested to talk about literary books and the merits of literature. You seem to enjoy the ecstasy and sublimity of literature. I sometime wonder what makes literature survive. What literature means to you? How do you define good and bad literatures?
Literature is everything for me as a man of conscience and creative fervor. As an avid reader and practitioner of the literature I have learnt many good things about life. My understanding of human civilization is based upon the knowledge I have gained through the study of literature created by great men of letters in various languages. I cannot clearly distinguish the good literature from the bad one but while reading any piece of literary work, I can feel its goodness or badness without any extra efforts.
Your comment on Bhupi Sherchan has shocked a whole generation of writers and readers as he had been a towering figure and probably the most popular poet Nepali literature had ever seen. After hearing your criticism on him as being an overrated poet, I felt some jealousy was at work. When you kept on expressing the same view then I decided to read Bhupi again and found him equally arresting. Your earlier answer shows no concession on your previous views. Would you like to tell what sort of standard you were expecting and how Bhupi failed to meet the mark in literature? Are there any poets in Nepali literature who can meet such sublimity you expected?
Despite his popularity among the massy readers, for me Bhupi is not an important figure as a modern poet in Nepali literature. He is neither prolific nor classy in terms of number and quality of poems he created. He lacks experimentation which is the prime requirement that makes any modern poet noteworthy. His poems are too simple and lack keen observation and deep insights over human sufferings. There are several poets like Mohan Koirala, Krishnabhakta Shrestha, Dwarika Shrestha, Basu Shashi, Madan Regmi and Bairagi Kainla who made profound impact as world-class composers of serious modern verses.
The form of novel has almost replaced epic. With the popularity of the novel, many poets have tried their hands at fiction for long. Recently a famous English poet, Jeet Thyle from India, tried and become successful. Even in Nepal many poets are turning towards fictions. You wrote a novel Eklo Nayak based on a famous political leader Krishna Prasad Bhattarai. Was there anything that demanded the form of fiction? You are a very good reader too. When you look back at the work, can you find something that went wrong with your first novel? You have finished your second novel from your side. Would you like to share the experience of novel writing?
In Sanskrit discourse, there is a popular saying that prose writing is a measuring rod for any poet. I too believe in this conclusion. In modern times, great works of literature have been created in prose, to be precise, in fiction although the importance of poetry is still intact and shall remain so for ages to come. My novel, Eklo Nayak, based on the life and times of the Nepali Congress leader KP Bhattarai, was not a result of my shifting to fiction writing from poetry though. I wrote the novel to fulfill my commitment I had made with the late leader Bhattarai when he was very sick, almost in deathbed.
As a bio-novel, Eklo Nayak messed up with so many things. I inserted some historical documents related to the life and times of Mr. Bhattarai in it, which was not taken well by the critics. Many a number of literary critics lambasted me for making the tome neither a book of fiction nor a chronicle of history.
As would be second work of fiction of mine, I am writing a well-researched and well-woven detective novel. I was half-way through it while I was in the USA. In the meantime, I became involved in some other projects. Hence the novel writing is being postponed. I have three book writing projects at hand now, which I believe, would be done in about a year. After these three books will see the light of day, I will restart working on the detective fiction.
You spent a long time in the USA. Maybe, all of sudden, an outburst of corona lengthened your stay there. During the corona time the whole world seemed to be in pause, and for the first time, the USA witnessed the failure of its health sector. How was your feeling? During that time we were constantly in touch. You were busy in novel writing and translating your own poems. And I think you enjoyed your stay in the USA. Did your stay there inspire you creatively?
You are right, Uday. The Covid-19 pandemic made my stay in the USA much longer than I had planned earlier. Fortunately, my family members living in the US and myself remained untouched by the scourge of the contagion throughout the pandemic but I witnessed the US authorities’ lackluster response to the pandemic that resulted in the heavy loss of lives. The situation was scary throughout 2020. President Donald Trump utterly failed to understand the gravity of the disaster Covid-19 was to induce in his country. In the beginning of the crisis he took it very lightly. He tried to assure the American people that corona virus wouldn’t cross the Atlantic and Pacific oceans proved to be futile. Trump’s self-confidence became a laughing stock among the knowledgeable people from the health sciences.
To mark a very positive development, various medical scientists from the US came forward and did a commendable job by inventing vaccines against the corona virus in record time with the support of pharmaceutical companies. Kudos to the vaccine makers like the Pfizer, Moderna and Johnson and Johnson. That was really a great job done to save the humanity from the deadly contagion.
During the high time of the upsurge of the corona virus, I mostly remained in confinement at my son’s home in Northern Virginia, USA. To pass the unwanted and unasked-for plenty of time, I tried to write but didn’t succeed much. I learned a lesson that plenty of time alone cannot help you create plenty of good work of literature. Perhaps I lacked much needed zeal for it.
What is your writing process? One shot go, or taking many steps? I know it depends on genres but I am tempted to know the secret of your writing process.
I wouldn’t say I do have any set writing process, Uday. I sit to write any piece of literary work when I feel inner urge for it. Usually, I start writing in the morning and continue till afternoon. I seldom sit to write in the evening or in the night.
While composing a poem, I prefer to complete it in one go but if the write-up requires a long time, I would complete it in my second or third attempt. I am a kind of perfectionist in using proper words and making my sentences lucid and precise. I repeatedly edit the piece till my full satisfaction.
You have been reviewing books for a long time. Your comments make many writers’ heartbeats go up and down. You are known for sharp criticism. Considering our history of criticism we are proud of having Ram Krishna and many more but during the Panchayat era. Many who sounded great initially, fell flat and surrendered themselves to power, and their downfall continued. There even is an accusation that even our critics behave as if there is no literature written after thirties. As a critic and writer, how do you evaluate our judgment quality? How fairly is our criticism doing?
I started reviewing newly published books as a common reader not as a critic initially. Later on, I tried to put upon the elements of serious critical observation into my reviews. I always tried to be objective in my observations of any books I wrote on. I based my critical appreciation of a book mainly on its contents, writer’s command over the language, lucidity in expression, and the creator’s distinct signature imprinted on the whole creation etc. As majority of the books I reviewed was utterly weak in almost all aspects I mentioned above, they obviously got negative review from me. Going by it, I was taken as a negativity oriented critic by many, which in fact was wrong. But the massy readers appreciated my straightforwardness and almost made me a brand. Looking back, I am happy about that.
Literary criticism in Nepali literature is almost dead now. The vibrant tradition set by the great critics like Ramkrishna Sharma, Yadunath Khanal, Ishwar Baral, Vasudev Tripathi, Bamdev Pahadi, et.al has completely broken now. At present there are only one or two names like Abhi Subedi and Krishna Gautam who can be taken as good critics. It is really a sorry state of the Nepali literary criticism Uday.
Some Poems of Hari Adhikary
1. How dare You Kiss My Eyes?
Lustful parts of my body
beneath the throbbing heart
That was what
I had sold out to you;
Lips of my vagina
That has lost their erotic charm,
And the stale nipples that
Wouldn’t gleam and grow tout;
The shrunken balls of fat
Of my thighs that
Would throb only to grow dull
and freeze in business like haste;
Oh! How dare you kiss my eyes?
I had kept them hidden
Even from my own self
The secret of these eyes is
all I had;
These very eyes had once
seen the prince of my life
Albeit in my dreams.
How dare you kiss my eyes?
***
2. The Lean, Thin and Frail Women
Look at the lean, thin
and fragile-limbed women
with medium height
That are wandering around as a herd of wounded cattle;
Guess, who are they?
These half-dead women are my weakness and my lost love too;
Bare to the bone,
Foul smelling and famished
These children are my family
And live pictures of my childhood;
Near the damp woven and
empty cooking bowls inside the crumbling huts
I meet them, the sunken-cheeked,
feverish images of my love;
In the dried-up waterholes of their famished eyes, lie
The greatest dream of my youth;
This mob of the hungry people
Emerged as the silhouette
Over the horizon
Is moving slowly on the unfortunate track
That was devastated by an untimely landslide
Not a very long ago;
These wrenched faceless people
Are my own,
They belong to my Tribe
And make my fraternity;
Out of a moaning woman’s womb
Was I born on a similar pathway,
My mother was dragging herself
To catch up with her men
Offering Shagun of tears and blood to them
And shuffling along the agony of the mob of her loved ones;
Now, tilling the poisonous harvest of guilt I am forced
to survive with these children,
With these women
You can see
They have become the true epitome of hunger;
I know I can’t simply be translated
Into a line of a poem,
Like the mighty, large-limbed demons,
Having forcibly owned the water, air and light
Can’t claim they have justly shared
The earth and glory of its great womb.
***
3. Uttimlal Tamta’s Travelogue
Myself Uttimlal Tamta
Here I am to narrate the true tale of my journey
The journey that passes through the dangerous uphill tracks
Opened between the elephantine rocks
That I have to smash them by my elbows each time I cross;
One not so fine dawn of a day,
Comrade P. came to our place
Fully contented he was, like a well-fed pig
And prideful as a champion boxer of a ghetto;
The hero of revolution was he
And an expert ironsmith too,
In revolutionary fervor
He touched the bridge over the River Bheri
And the precious means of transport for us
Melted like a cake of wax,
With its ribs hung in the air
The bridge looked unsightly like a dead bat’s carcass;
Without Comrade’s notice
I reached the one end of the bridge one day
Its ugly corpse stuck in my watery eyes
The Bheri River was murmuring in the deep gorge below
The hills, jungles and defiles I had to cross were running away
All my pulses feebled
I covered my face with the dirty hat of mine
And silently shed tears of blood;
“Only for the sake of you people
I amputated the ribs of this bridge” Said Comrade P.
“Following a volley of gunfire
(Perhaps with the martyrdom of several men and women)
Abundant food and clothes will come for the famished and naked Karnali Region” He boasted;
Perplexed I was
Between belief and disbelief
I tried to contemplate but couldn’t
And rested the heavy burden of life on the broken chair of my heart;
Long ago
The Gorkhali officer had also promised me:
“I will give salt as much as your tongue demands
And enough rice and pulse too to quench your hunger forever”
He also said that he had heard
The sigh of relief that had blown out from my empty stomach;
But in reality
There never came enough salt
in government warehouse
Neither, rice or pulse,
We remained the same
Cheated as ever and hungry too.
The evening just before the great festival of Dashain
I was climbing the great hill of Dailekh
Making the destroyed bridge over the River Bheri my right-hand side
I clearly saw in the mirror of my heart:
Far away in the capital city of the kingdom
My ugly photograph, hung on the page of a newspaper
Was taking rounds in the drawing rooms of well-fed, radiant people;
Look at me,
I, Uttimlal Tamta
Under the shadow of firmly raised fist of Comrade P. and
The flag hoisted by the Gorkhali Officer,
Have stood hiding from myself
And painting I am
The murky portrait of Karnali
on the empty canvass of my heart.
***
4. Bread Baked in the Oven of Democracy
A group of children was playing around
The tiny devils were making cheerful sound
Suddenly they confronted with a unique sight
A large bread was hung in the air at some height
That was a bread baked in the oven of democracy
Was of fine look, smelling sweet and temptingly tasty
But the children couldn’t be happy to see the bread
As it was two yards above their fathers’ head
Hugely perplexed the kids enquired in serious tone:
“Is that bread equally far from here as the lovely moon?”
More agonized than bewildered the elders were shocked
Could not utter a word as were emotionally chocked
They stopped trying to grab the unapproachable bread
And looked at the slowly dying moon above their head,
The night spread its dark wings engulfing every ray of light
The bread baked in the oven of democracy burned and created a full- eclipse sight.
***
5. The Man Who Came from the Pages of a Newspaper
The man who died the other day suddenly and discreetly
Was seen pinned down on a page of a newspaper meekly
Not knowing is he dead or alive He fled the scene in confusion
Entered a bedroom of another person driven by perplexity;
He was tempted to talk to the living man but didn’t know why!
He tried to remember his live moments still didn’t know why!
He whispered unfathomable words in the living man’s ear
The other man was not happy with his life hence he didn’t care;
Just above the door panel
The portrait of the same deceased is hung
One can see in his lips spread
The very captivating taste of last feast of anybody’s life!
Very cautiously saved oneself from being hanged in the newspaper as an old waistcoat
And, being not lost in the cobweb of too many tracks, pathways and roads,
An another man is there walking slowly in a familiar road;
The same person who have fled from the pages of a newspaper calls upon the third man in a cold, fearful voice,
His victim is the hapless person who is contented about what he is, and every night tries to have a good sleep tightly embracing himself.
***