By Manoj Regmi
After a very busy day at work, I went to my favorite cafe by the lake. I would usually go there to have a cup of coffee which, I think, could relieve me from exhaustion. It had been my daily routine to go there, sit for hours, sip coffee, and think about the plot for my upcoming fiction.
That day too, I was just sitting there, looking at the lake and casually sipping coffee. I was just thinking about the mess created by water hyacinth growing there. The presence of the water hyacinth in the lake seemed quite ironic to me. It appeared that its presence everywhere had turned the lake ugly. However, the hyacinth blooming somewhere between the weeds seemed to have enhanced the beauty of the lake.
While scanning around, I saw an old man squatting on the edge of a small cliff by the lake with a traditional homemade fishing rod in his hand. After I had observed him for a while, I noticed him frequently changing his attention from the indicator on the hook towards the setting sun over the hill.
He wiped his sweat from his forehead with the hem of his old tattered shirt. “It has been a very humid day!” he perhaps thought.
Suddenly, he changed his gaze and concentrated on the indicator. He then haphazardly pulled his fishing line out of the lake after feeling a jolt from underneath. His fishing rod was not a technical or a modern one. He made it out of a bamboo shoot that he must have cut from the nearby jungle. He had added a ring at one end of the shoot and tried to give it a look like that of an advanced fishing rod. He tied the line on the top of the rod and tied an indicator right in the middle of the stick which he could adjust as per the depth of the lake. And, that indicator would tell him when to pull the string out.
His face suddenly brightened up with the heavy pull from underneath the water. His wrinkles disappeared for a while. After a short struggle, he pulled the fish out of the lake. It was huge. Much bigger than he had expected. He flung the fish on the grass and closely examined it before putting it into his sack.
He looked contented. I had no idea how long he had been there and how tired he might have been, but everything—his exhaustion, hunger and desperation—disappeared once he caught had the fish.
He hooked another bait on the hook and hurled it towards the lake. Then, his waiting started again. While he waited, he would frequently examine the fish in the sack. Every time he checked the fish, his face brightened up with a sense of pride.
I observed him every now and then. Something within urged me to go and talk to him. I couldn’t stop myself from going, so I went near him. He was totally focused on his indicator.
” Namaste, Dai!” I said with an aim of drawing his attention off the indicator, towards me.
He turned his head towards me and scanned me from head to toes at first and answered my greeting. Then again turned his head to his usual position.
“How many fished have you caught so far?” I asked, as he showed no interest in talking to me.
“Not many! I have just caught one so far. It’s huge, though,” he said without turning his head toward me.
“May I see it if you don’t mind?” I requested.
“Of course!” he said and opened the narrow mouth of the sack.
“Oh yeah, it’s huge! What could be its weight?” I asked, acting to weight it.
“It should be around four kilograms!” he assumed.
“Would you sell it to me?”
I loved the fish. It was a sahar and it is one of the tastiest fishes found in the lake, people believe.
He looked at me with a fake smile over his face and said, “Sorry, sir! I cannot sell this fish!”
” Why?” I asked out of curiosity.
“My son must be waiting for me. He asked me to bring something home today. I always go home empty-handed. However, he always waits for me at the gate. Whenever I reach home, he directly goes for my bag and curiously rummages it. I have seen his curiosity turn into despair many times. Today I want to make him happy with this. So, I cannot sell it to you. Sorry about that!” he explained.
“I will give you handsome money for it!” I tried to convince him.
He looked at me with suspicion and said, “Sorry, sir! I cannot sell this. No money can replace the happiness this fish can bring on my son’s face.”
“You can lie to him. You can tell him you didn’t catch any fish today as well,” I continued.
He didn’t speak a word for a while.
“I cannot lie to him. How can you ask me to lie to my son for your happiness? I never lie to him. I don’t want to break his trust. I just want to see him happy. That’s it!” he sounded upset.
“You are a very good father. A responsible father indeed. I was just checking on you!” I said for calming him down.
He didn’t like my explanation. So, he didn’t pay any attention thereafter.
“How old is your son?” I wanted to know more about his family.
“Nine!” he replied in brief.
“Does he go to school?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, that’s great!”
“How long have you been fishing?”
“I have been a fisherman all my life.”
“Oh! Have you taught your son, too?”
“No, I don’t want him to end up like me. I want him to study and do something good in future. My life went on waiting for the fish. I don’t want my son to have the same fate as mine.”
“It was nice meeting you, Dai!” I said before leaving him alone.
“Don’t ever ask to lie to your son at any cost! It’s not a good thing,” he said as I was about to cross the road.
“I will remember that, Dai! Thank you!” I said.
His last sentence really touched me and made me think deeply.
With a lot of thoughts crisscrossing my mind, I walked towards the parking where I had parked my bike. Before reaching the parking, I turned back and looked at the place where the fisherman was squatting with his fishing rod. But he was not there.
He must have been impatient to go home and show it to his son.
I imagined his son jumping on the front yard of the house seeing the fish. I imagined the father stroking the son’s hair with love and hoping for his son’s future.
I was about to leave the place when I heard someone call for me from the cafe. I turned towards the cafe and saw the waiter who served me coffee a while ago waving at me with my helmet in his hand.
I was so deep into the thoughts that I had even forgotten to pay the bill. I stepped off the bike and went to the counter, paid the bill, collected my helmet and left the place with a lesson for my lifetime.
***
[Manoj Regmi (1987) has passion for writing short stories, both in Nepali and English. He is originally from Pokhara, currently living in Canberra, Australia. He completed his masters’ degree in English from Tribhuvan University in 2012. A few of his stories and book reviews have been published in some of the online portals of Nepal.]