27th December, 07

I listened to Ginsberg's howl and the discussion on 'howl' recoreded on the occasion of the 50th anniversary celebration of Ginsberg's poem howl on the New York radio pacifica. The poem is a epoch making impact on the history of American poetry. The poem had to undergo trial of censorship. There is something incredible humanitarian in the poem. There is nothing in the poem that corrupts youth's or children's mind. It won the court case. There is something old fashion in the poem: the old fashion about the values, write and wrong. Howl has the potential to instil values long lost Whitman value.

And I read Amiri Baraka's Somebody Blew Up America. These poets of Beats generation were so outspoken against all the wrongs and follies of politics and social system and tradition.

11th December, 07

The 1st semester is drawing to a close. Christmas is at the doorstep. The prefestival excitement is felt and seen exverywhere. Today, there was the last class (workshop) with Stevie. The workshop was wondrously fruitful. I got very constructive comments from Stevie and everyone.

After the class, Stevie asked me to stay behind, telling that she has to give me something. After ten minutes, she came with an envelop that on the cover read:

Happy Christmas,
Mukul
___________

Do not open it till you get home !
(I mean, to Beck House)
Stevie and Nigel

And said, 'Don't open it until you reach your room.' She asked me, 'When will you open?'
I said, 'In my room'. Then said, 'Merry Christmas.' See you at Nigel's on the 21st.

I came back home, a curiosity of a child quickened my pace. Opened the envelop to find some GBP notes, staring at me, I counted, they made an amount of £250. I felt warmth of their heart on these notes. A huge prize for me. I felt this token of affection of my tutors towards me has made me aware of my destination once more. I had the similar feeling when Carol paid £1000 of my tuition fee on my behalf in the beginning of my university year in September.

With the notes was a note from Stevie in her hand writing on the university letterhead:

Dear Mukul -

Nigel and I would like you to have this money to help towards your costs: please do what seems best with it.
No need to than us. We are lucky to have you with us.

Very best,
Stevie

10th Nov, 07

It's already two days since I got message from Anita. May be she couldn't access to internet. The connection there is not at all reliable. May be she went to Gauriganj for Tihar. It's Bhaitika tomorrow. There's no internet at home there. She could have emailed me a message informing me of it. 'Why' has been worrying me so much. I needed to talk about the granny's picture for my writing. The scanned copy of her citizenship. And a few of her photos.

I hope to hear from her today.

6th Nov, 07

I was walking along Pantygwydr Road, on my way to the university. I was almost rushing as I had to reach the library earlier than my usual time and find some picture on the internet for Stevie's class. The picture or a document relating to family history. I noticed an old woman standing on the other side of the road. She was holding something on the wall. As she saw me, she called out to me. I looked at her, and pictured my grandmother. 'Could you help me reach the bottom of the road? My legs are trembling terribly' she said. I approached her and held her hands. She was shaking so much that she would have lost balance and fallen down in a few minutes time. She was slender like Dikura. Her hands and the wrinkled skin on her hand was similar to that of Dikura. Not only was I overwhelmed by compassion, but also a feeling of contentment.

'I fell on my knees; that is why. Sorry, I delayed you.'
'It's ok.' I said.
I thought, had she been my grandmother, my mother or my sister-in-law or my nephew would have been leading her. Dikura was never left unattended, until the last minute of her life.

We reached the bottom of the road but she needed to go further. I couldn't part with her as she couldn't go further on her own. We turned round the corner and started to walk along Brandygan Avenue. She didn't tell me to leave her there and go on my way. I understood, she didn't mean to be left there. I was pleased and felt fortunate that I got an opportunity to help her a little.
I didn’t ask about her family, her name or anything. I just asked her age.
'Me? I am 77 ' she said.
'I delayed you much. I'm sorry' she repeated.
'It's ok. I am not late. I will reach you where you need to.'
I was not bothered about time. I wished to lead her longer.

We turned round another corner to the right on Bernard Street and a little further ahead there was a shop. She was to reach there.
'You started your day with a good job today', she said. I nodded.
I helped her into the entrance and parted. On my way to the university I kept reflecting on my grandmother and her final days. How her body gradually weathered. How her white hair again began to turn black. How she became child like. How she often threw tantrums and demanded this and that. How life completes a full circle.

5th Nov, 07

I have not written a good paragraph yet. I am supposed be half way through by now. I think of my grandmother and her casual talks. They do not make any sequential thing. And most importantly I cannot trust my memory. I trust my imagination but not memory. But I need memory and facts more than the imagination to get on with this portfolio. I wrote to Anita a week back but she has her own limitations. She has a residence problem and she is combating the new situation. I am here and I have left her with the sons there. She needs to look after them and cook and feed them, ready the elder for school, send him and follow his assignments. I was left in trauma when I read her email some days back:

Baaba, I can't remember any moments of delight that we shared together. In my life there are only these two rooms and kitchen and the tention of the boys. I can't bring to my memory your face. I sometimes feel we will never meet again. How the living could be ahead. Let's go on waiting and seeing.
Baaba, I just felt so today and felt like writing this. Don't mind, Ok ? -Anita

After this I did not talk of my research with her some days. Thought this would just add to her troubles. And next day I arranged an online chat with her. Then I came to know that she had a problem with living there. The hotel downstairs was the cause of her distress. People got drunk and had a row every night. She felt lonely and insecure. The location there is a bit off centre and away from her maternal sisters' houses. Then I came to know that the sisters found another room to let her in near them where she felt better and secured. Then one day she wrote to me that she is getting shifted there.

After she shifted there she wrote to me that she is happy now. Then I followed up with my project. I sent a string of questions for her to research and write me back. To this she replied:

baba
we are fine.
yesterday you sent me massage in mobile & it deliver at 2.30 at night . there was one sentance 'help me ' so I did not understand & I connected net at night . I read mail & I feel better & slept.
yesterday in evening mama ghar ko aama khata bata ladnu bhayo ra aaakchine sabai lai tention bhayo tara naramro kehi bhayona .
tomorrow I am going to chandragadi there is puran .
today dadi is here .

today I talked in chuthai but nobody knows about that all quesrion' s answer. so I have to go to biratnagar to meet grandma's sister .
but sanubuha saggust me to goto chuthai first . so we all both family are going to chuthai tomorrow evening . he wil call everybody in our home he will ask that question he already convert that question into story and then .we will note down . if i cant get write answer then i will go to biratnagar.
dont worry i will manage.
sorry for late because last week I had tention about room . so I couldnot do . now I am free i will do this work at any cost .

other thing is fine
when I will ger answer I will send imediately
ok bye
anu

This made me feel better. I grew hopeful.

22 October, 07

I attended the talks of Nawal El Saadawi, the writer of The Hidden Face of Eve, Woman at Point Zero and God Dies by the Nile. A great writer, speaker and rebel. A rebel against all traditional establishment and a great feminist and human write activist. Here is what I jotted down from her speech:
__________________________________________________________________
We need to change the language like the first world, third world, middle east, the writer of the middle east, post colonial. I hate these words as these words are the colonised words. What is the meaning of post colonial? As if the colonisation is over. No, there is still colony. America as the so called super power is colonising the world.
You say that the women in Islamic country are not free. You think you are free. No. You are also not free. You carry your hanband's name. Why? Then how are you free? You are not free too. If you say you are free, don't carry your husband's name. Feminism is not to go against men. It is a humanism. You give respect to your mother.

I watched rugby world cup final and was shocked to see blood oozing out from their head. Sports should not have such violence. Sports like literature is a creativity and there should be pleasure. England lost the match and I watched the face of the captain, so sad, as if he has lost a war. It should not be in the sports.

There is a connection between global politics and female circumcision. G. Bush and female circumcision. Veiling and nakedness are both dangerous. Both take woman just a body. There is connection between family law and state law. Both are controlled by power and money. Media is equally dangerous. It is controlled by the government's mind. We are living in a system controlled by money and power.

Creativity makes people more humane. Best doctors are the writers and musicians.

Aid is such a decieving term. Where America has given aid means Ameraca has taken aid from there, so there is more poverty.
____________________________________________________________________

This is just a random notes I made during what she said and this is just a drop of what she said. An illuminating and worth attending talk.

20 Oct, 07

Today is Nawami. Rakshya invited me for a party at Llanneli. Before I went, I made a call back home and spoke to Ama and Anita. Ama blessed me on the phone: May your dream come true, you have all happiness, you have good health etc. In a deep tone. I could feel tears in her eyes and a pang of missing me. I was touched by her words.

Then I went to Rakshya's house and from their to the party hall. A tidy gathering. I enjoyed the party. It went till midnight and we parted.

17 Oct, 07

Today I went for a ramble through Swasea with Nigel. I wonder how many new things enter our life each day. The walk was not just a walk. It was like reading a whole history book. Dylan Thomas' residence. The grand view of swansea from up the hill. The docks. Dylan Thomas center. And more.

13 October, 07 ashoj 26, 064

Today I felf extreme stress. Thinning purse, distant possibility of any work and the study assignment made way into my mental space and reigned. The date for the first instalment of accommodation seems to be a gaping mouth of a ferocious beast. 26th October, just at a stone's throw. Asal is missing me a lot and weeps whenever anyone talks of papa- Anita wrote to me. He has no heart in his studies.

Coming to this distant land, spending so much, leaving behing three dependant souls insecure, did I make right decision? I wondered. Towards the evening I had headache. My head was hot and mind was not focused. I was struggling to do the assignment. Listened to the Dashain music. Flew into the goneby days of festival time. New clothes, the delicacies, family gathering, linge ping, tika and so forth. That was life. Dashain is just a few day's ahead in Nepal. I grew airy. Meditated on the music. Felt a little light. Read Kantipur online and saw a picture with Madhesi people celebrating Ghatasthapana. Jwala singh has announced ceasefire During Dashain.

Cooked and ate. Struggled a little way into the assignment untill 11 p.m. Then bed.

8th October, 07

Nothing colorful, nothing significant, nothing praiseworthy done. A slothful day slipped by taking useless ramble, to the university, in and out of library, to the citycenter and back. Emails and bus into the city center. Dropped cv at a restaurant. Kindling of hope and experiencing it extinguished. Just it. Oh, yes, I phoned home, talked to Anita. Asal did badly in today's paper. She shouted at him. He was weeping on phone and complaining about her with me. Evening meal and books and bed.

7th October, 07

Phoned to Anita. And found that she has recovered a bit. Recovered from mental stress and also from cold. This gave me a sense of relief. Knew that Asal's having exam.

Did washing at laundry. An expensive wash. Already twelve when I ate something. Went to the uni and answered emails. Emailed my assignment. Went to the city centre. Cold and shut down. Fate of citicentre on Sunday.

Back room. Cooking and bed