Are you experienced?

Did it really always or at least often happened to me, of all the guys in our little gang, or was it just my imagination? It was me who got to brush my body against the prettiest girl’s in the bus trip to Bhaktapur with my fellow friends that fine day. It was me the other day, who not deliberately, believe me, not deliberately got to feel god knows what of the lady in the bus when returning from Nagarkot. It was me who got to know and befriend to this fine women, who I even had a little crush on, in the bank just because I didn’t have a post box and she did. So, you see, it was really often me. Or let me be honest, I like to take it this way. And Shyam, a close friend of mine had approved of it. So see? My anticipation was to some extent not merely my imagination and certainly not a hallucination.

     Now, let me make it clear where this little bluff about my fate is heading to.

  “Let’s go home, it’s too cold and I’ve to pee!” Ravi stammered with a look of irritation on his face. A handsome lad he was, always well dressed, always playful, always talked too casual, cool and always way too ‘unstable’. He always talked to girls like he owned them, like they were children and he was to entertain them. I have to say he was a clown, to be precise and true to myself. He did it with a confident yet shy notion. Guess that’s what girls like about him. He had a lot of them around. At times, he reacted awkwardly to regular situations; it made me wonder what went on in his head at these times. Sometimes it felt like he was to say a different word or in a different tone of voice and he ended up in a whole different output.

  “Isn’t it time that we go? I’m sick of watching this silly dance”

He always wanted to do one thing, and when he could do it, he wanted to do something else. It was his idea to watch kartik naach, and now all he wants is to go home and pee? Pee was merely an excuse, of that I was certain. He was always uncertain of what he wanted. He made one of these attempts in every few minutes, but we were so used to it that it didn’t matter if we didn’t respond them. And he was so used to our silence that he didn’t bother. But if it was Shyam or me who said “Let’s leave” it would really feel like its time to leave.

  Shyam, on the other hand, watched the dance with much interest. Shyam was really “on the other hand” from Ravi. Shyam did not at all bothered about how attractive he looked, all that mattered to him was science, literature, programming and other uninteresting things you can think of. He had an analytical mind, he had a variety of stuff stored inside.  He had a stiff body which made robot like moves, curly hair, mostly unkempt. It was impossible, though I’ve tried a few times, to imagine him with a girl talking romance. Just so impossible. Though he talked about girls, didn’t act extra in their presence. His thoughts were always rational, always meaningful.  

Ravi was sitting in between Shyam and me on the stone stairs, so when Shyam talked about the music, the dance and their history, he had to talk across Ravi to reach me. So, Ravi started catching up with us and his desire to pee, it kind of disappeared.

 It was a dance of the gods. One of a kind, the dance was accompanied by the beating of the authentic drums and cymbals. Though the musicians didn’t bother to keep a steady tempo and at times the dancers with godly masks and shiny clothes and gold colored jewels and belts seemed to miss the beat and jumble the steps, it was still claimed sangeet and nitra. And the interesting thing is that it was still fun to watch, the technical aspects? Who cares!

  Now, the dance was over and a play was about to start. 

 It was then that I sensed someone sitting next to me. I told you it always happened to me. It was a white girl this time, a kuyre. We had been sitting next to each other for quite a while, our elbows touching very often, it just took a bit for me to realize. We had lots of foreigners in this place. Most of them seemed to have traveled all around the globe, and this was the last place they could find. I mean basically they were too old. Few were of our age, and they were rarely beautiful. This girl sitting next to me belonged to the rare species.

  It was pretty hard to say if she was a kuyre at first glance. Her tanned skin and dark brown, almost black hair made her look more like a nepali.