Building a School for Nepal
Artistic Narration of a Real Story
«… the quantity of people who are kind, empathetic and capable of deeds is growing.»
15th December
I can hear loud and clear, I can feel how our plane is slowly coming in for a smooth landing. I look at the shut window, trying to postpone the inevitable.
Only one week ago I was an unhappy and dissatisfied with the reality copy-writer, who used to leave big tips after four mugs of unfiltered beer. But no, there is no fear inside of me — I am a child, knowing that he is being brought a present, just not knowing what kind of present it is. This is a battle of expectations, when only intuition, logics and humility, coming hand in hand with each other, can satisfy a boy jiggeting and moving around a leather seat.
What’s going to happen next?
25th April
A drunken Friday went pretty well. I am sitting on a step close to our bamboo house, trying to understand who and when turned on to this road?
The horizon line of Dzhafe at night — a border line between the sky and the hill the lights of which simulate skillfully the stars, and the alcohol, so friendly, blurred all the distinctions giving me this deep sense of oblivion not for the first time.
Who has made that decision, who has created my way, how has I ended up here and in this company? Kazakhstan, Mexico, Italy, France, Greece, Russia, Belorussia, Poland, Malaysia… at this moment the border between us — just thin bamboo slivers creating not bad illusion of walls.
Tomorrow there is a nine a.m. bus to Kathmandu to prolong the visa and to sort some Indian things out. Not a long period, a week, I guess. But I really don’t feel like it! I don’t want to leave the kids, the workers, the guys, everyone, don’t want to lose the jokes during breakfast, don’t want to miss a lesson of Nepali from our commando during lunch break, don’t want to put on hold Jazz from the speakers, don’t want to get out of the habit of immersing in our small pool near the waterfalls. I just want to listen to the stories from all around the world by the lamp being attacked by the biggest nigh butterflies in my life, I kind of want to take everything with me.
And for good reason, now I see, that on the 16th of December Monica opening out Tarot cards in a cheap guesthouse in Delhi told me: run, just run. Run to see the most romantic pictures in your life, starting already the next day in such a carriage on the streets of Agra.
I see a loving couple, she is wearing a flowery dress of a chaste cut, he is dressed in a formal grey suit slightly dusty whether from long days of being in an ancient wardrobe whether just because it was India. They are going along the shaded alley hugging each other and whispering, not knowing that their privacy is just an illusion and now they are in these lines.
He tells her something, she smiles, he hugs her and holds her tight, she closes her eyes and I am ready to see this kiss, in all its amazing beauty, but she with a graceful movement of a traditional fan flowers closes this door just in front of my face, but I am happy and inspired. Because this is just the beginning.
Really, the following series of events and cities was leading me firmly and steadily here, to the night before the departure. And that is not even a real departure, but how many emotions of a drunk person.
That was not always funny, but always to be expected, and therefore it had never had any influence on a good mood. All the problems used to go away by themselves, and good surprises became a tendency. The feeling that you have been fooled, working as a guidance, passes away when you meet dozens of people who cannot fool any more.
Not having a choice, the vendors become real and stop playing the role of a vendor, transforming into people: wives, husbands, mothers, sons and everything opens from the other side. Getting acquainted with many different people from every corner of the planet: dreaming, running away, squeezed in taxi, having broken the chains, bearing their crosses, people who are creating something and even those who are rolling heads over heels into a chosen abyss.
Curious incidents during the trips, in the buses, in the cars, the beauty of human and non-human creations, the first day at the seaside, the rest of the days at the sea, the basics of jewellery making, Indian food, 4–5 hours per day riding a scooter, nights at the beach, all the emotional spectrum of the situation at work, and then dropping down of temperature, tranquility and again surprises, but already in another play, in which the concept of “pleasure” has increased significantly.
At the very end of that chapter I thought for the hundredth time — this is just the beginning.
16th February
A dishonest and unprincipled tour guide, pretending to be a couchsurfer and a decent man, with full authorization from my side, had me fooled and changed the whole further going rout in his own spurious interests.
Later on he escaped with a comfortable for me sum of money, leaving me with extraordinary and unbelievable events of the following days and the memories about Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, Udaipur, Ahmadabad, Mumbai and Goa.
Simla met with the warmth of the house of the kindest people and the cold not only of mountain temperatures but of British architecture as well. All through stinking with the money Rishikesh kept something sacred in itself. And after unexpected meeting with Mudja and his blessing, I moved towards Nepal.
Some might say, that the road was awful, for me it was for the first time. India was not satisfied — flimsy and shakey bus and drizzling rain, a cart full of people and heavier rain, a motorbike and intensive rain, a rickshaw without roof and showering rain, a jeep-taxi and the sun.
Mahendranagar — forgotten, trying persistently to be modern, but stuck somewhere in the middle of the way. And yet it saved me from a cold.
It was dusk in Butwal when the bus arrived and the search for a hotel brought me to a small café, and how fortunate. The chance set everything up in a way that there were only two people: the owner of the café and the visitor. Identically surprised, I was shocked by their knowledge of English, the Nepali — by my visit, we got acquainted.
When the owner of the café brought a quality Americano, they asked about the hotel. “Of course, that’s not complicated! I think my father will not be against it! Everything is cool, dude, let’s go, you can stay as long as you need! And don’t say anything about payment!” — told me a twenty-year old guy starting his bike. After five minutes I was in front of the only three-star hotel in the city.
No, that cannot be! You can link it to Karma, you can connect it with the attitude towards Life or even with a chosen living environment, but it became evident — the quantity of people who are kind, empathetic and capable of deeds is growing.
And so it happened — vocations in touristic but of a great beauty Pokhara, gathering, cleaning, drying and preparing coffee in the village of Bhanjhang, noisy and always drunk Kathmandu.
17th December
In the doorway of a guesthouse in Delhi my new friend from Sweden, Yari, is smiling to me and saying as a goodbye: be open to everything that you are going to meet on your way, but don’t be naïve.
10th March
After some pancakes the taste of which I had time to forget, I preferred thoughts about tomorrow’s trip to the village of Jaffa to some healthy sound sleep in Olesya’s apartment.
Once you have decided to help everyone who needs this help, you don’t even know how it can change your-own-self. The world is too big to know everything. The more interesting it is to get to know, isn’t it?
26th April
I just want to take it all with me. To take a sledgehammer, those stones, shovels, even if they are deformed, all the dusty clothes and dirty conversations, “breakfast” in the morning and “buenos noches” in the evening, all the crazy ideas and beautiful citations, hours of work of a Math teacher, minutes when the kids are enjoying their victory, minutes, when you recognize friends in the people that are around you, seconds, when you close your eyes to believe that you are not dreaming.
My trip over here too a great deal of time, much more than those three months. But exactly during this time the fate prepared me to this stock of events that I want to keep in my memory forever. It prepared me to feel the kindness of unspoiled people and to meet the people who chose kindness as a part of their life plan. It prepared me, I believe, to set up the crossbar for all my future deeds and actions. Because this is just the beginning.
Author: Elmurat Nigmatov
