He had put on a lot of weight; his jowl looked more prominent than it used to, but he still made as many wisecracks as before. It had been almost seven years since college, the last time Manoj had met Bhojraj. And to run into him so many years later when the least expected was quite a pleasant surprise.
Manoj and his wife Bina were travelling to Ilam from Hetauda. After making a brief stop at Barmajiya where they’d bought the famous budhako pedas, the couple was looking forward to seeing the Koshi Barrage. Their mood—and that of all the other passengers—had been dampened however, by the bus driver’s announcement that they wouldn’t be making a stop at Koshi. They were already running late, the driver had told them, and the passengers’ best option was to look outside their windows trying to soak in as much of the Saptakoshi as they could.
It was around this time that the bus gave a sudden jolt. The tyres screeched as the driver applied the brakes, and the bus soon came to a lumbering halt. The engine stopped, squealed and vented off steam. “Damn it!” the driver yelled at the top of his voice. After inspecting the tyres, the driver climbed back on to the bus and spoke to all the passengers. “The left tyre tube is punctured. It will take us about half an hour to fix. Don’t go too far”.
Despite the delay, all of the passengers were delighted they got to stop at Koshi. While some took out their cameras and started posing along the embankments, others ran towards the buoy. Upon seeing a bus full of passengers stop, a few local ferrymen had gathered around them, trying to cajole them into taking a ferryboat across the river, to an island made of sand dunes.
Meanwhile, vendors entreated them to taste fresh fried fish and delicious fish curries. Manoj glanced at his watch; it was a quarter past noon. “Want to go boating, Sanu?” he asked his wife. To this, Bina replied, “Well dear, its noon. One shouldn’t get into a river at noon. Let’s have something to eat instead. If there’s still time afterwards, we’ll go boating for sure.”
His wife’s superstitions irked him sometimes, but Manoj still loved her quirkiness. Acquiescently he agreed, “Alright. Whatever you want, Sanu. Why don’t you go and order something? I’ll be right there.”
Manoj was relieving himself at the post when his eyes travelled to a plaque that read: ‘Koshi Barrage... built in 1951 with 54 gates’. It was right then that he heard someone screaming from behind him. “Pandit! How dare you desecrate the Koshi?”
He turned around, and there was Bhojraj, grinning with his crooked teeth.
“My goodness, Bhoje. It’s been so long. What are you doing here?” Manoj exclaimed.
“Oh, going to Biratnagar. Just took a tea break. And saw you Pandit. You haven’t changed a bit. How many years has it been?”
“Long time,” Manoj replied.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries that were filled with humorous insult, the two men entered the small straw-roofed hut where Bina was waiting for her husband. She blushed a little when she realised the man walking alongside Manoj was Bhojraj.
“Goodness Pandit! I had a hunch you guys were an item in our college days. But man congratulations to both of you”
“You didn’t know Bina and I got married, did you? I had sent you a Facebook invitation”
“Of course not! I hardly use Facebook. Waste of time when there is so much to enjoy in real world,” Bhojraj quipped.
After catching up a bit, all the three of them ordered fish curry with roti. Bhojraj told Manoj and Bina that he was manager of a local development bank with its headquarters in Biratnagar. He was travelling to the city from Kathmandu, and was married with two kids.
“So you guys are headed to Ilam then. Second honeymoon?” Bhojraj inquired“No, we’re simply on vacation,” Bina replied.
“How long are you guys planning to stay?” he spoke again, carefully removing the fish bones.
“Four days. I have to be back in office by Monday,” Manoj explained.
After lunch, during which they had a lot of catching up to do, the three friends took a stroll by the river. The other passengers were still taking pictures while the driver and conductor were working to replace the tyre tube in all urgency.
The bank was covered in beautiful sand, and the April sun was scorching. On the other side of the road stretched uncultivated land with patches of mustard field. At a little distance stood a few scattered huts with thatched roofs and outer walls covered in cow dung cakes. The walls were covered in graffiti: political slogans and advertisements in Maithili that read: ‘Contact Hakim Juber for cures for infertility, impotency and erectile dysfunction’.
All three of them broke into peals of laughter as they read the sign aloud. “What kind of person would visit a quack called Juber,” cried Manoj. “I can’t stop laughing.”
“You know, this ad runs everywhere in eastern Terai. People visiting such places must be quite stupid really,” Bhojraj quipped
“People resort to such ‘cures’ even in this day and age,” Bina affirmed.
“The government should clamp down such places. All these crooks fleecing innocent people,” Manoj said.
“By the way, do you guys have children?” Bhojraj asked
“No. We are waiting for right time,” Manoj replied.
“You know there is never a ‘right time’ for anything,” Bhojraj spoke.
Manoj simply nodded while his wife remained silent.
The bus driver’s voice carried through the air. “Everybody, back in the bus!”
When he heard this, Bhojraj said, “Hey, let’s all meet on your way back. I will be in Itahari this Sunday with my wife. There is a great Thakali restaurant there, with gazhal. It will be great.”
“I can’t promise anything, but we will try. Won’t we Sanu?”
“Sure we will. It was great seeing you. And I would love to meet Bhauju,” Bina affirmed.
After a few words of parting, both husband and wife boarded the bus. Meanwhile, Bhojraj had gotten into his car, and was waving at them as he drove away.
“Waiting for the right time?” Bina sounded annoyed.
“Please Sanu! Let’s not start arguing again. What do you want me to tell everyone of our predicament,” Manoj snapped
“You could at least try to be less insensitive!” Bina started to sob.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore. We have to move on with life. Let’s enjoy our trip,” Manoj spoke reassuringly.
It had just been a month since the couple had had miscarriage, their second one. Despite her mother-in-law’s warning, she had had a mango that day. Bina had been inconsolable since the incident. Also, her ‘transgression’ had greatly strained her relationship with her husband’s family.
With the gulf widening between his wife and mother, and the fear that Bina might be slipping into depression, Manoj had planned the trip upon the suggestion of a counsellor. But this recent talk of children had stoked the repressed anguish both husband and wife felt within themselves. The couple remained silent for the rest of the journey.
When they reached Illam, they heeded to Bhoraj’s advice and stayed in Kanyam. The beauty and majesty of the hills almost made the couple forget their stress. The two were lost in its glory.
On their return trip, Bina said to her husband, “You know dear, I overheard some of the maids at the hotel talking about how shaman Juber is really good.” Her voice was soft, cajoling. “Perhaps we should consult him.”
Manoj was annoyed when he heard this. “You know Sanu, I don’t believe in such things. It’s a very stupid idea!”
“Well, I don’t see what harm a visit would do. Who knows, he might even be of help,” Bina pressed on.
“I’m willing to do that if you insist, but I still don’t like the idea,” Manoj complied.
They stopped at Mirgauliya and took a dusty earthen road that led them to a small village with ramshackle huts. The largest among them belonged to Hakim. Outside, on the patio, naked children were playing marbles. This being Saturday evening, there were lot of shoes and chappals outside as well. Plates were scattered under the dry tube well and a strong stench of urine and manure filled the air.
Feeling nauseous and apprehensive, the couple grudgingly entered the small and overcrowded room. Hakim Juber was seated at the centre of the room; his forehead covered in ash. There was a lot of smoke in the room, and almost no visibility.
Manoj was cursing himself for being coaxed into the situation. In the crowd, he looked searchingly for a place to sit. His eyes fell into the rightmost corner of the room where they met another pair of searching eyes, those of Bhojraj. He was seated next to a plump woman, supposedly l his wife. Embarrassed, they both pretended as if they hadn’t seen each other.
- Dipesh Karki
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