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ashu
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Posted on 04-02-06 12:15
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Dating Comrade Natasha
(Happy April Fools' Day)
by oohi ashu
I remember the evening I first saw her at Butwal Lodge in Kalanki. I was there to meet a friend. But his bus had not yet arrived from Jajarkot. I decided to wait. In that dimly-lit lobby where shadowy figures flitted about, she was sitting in a corner - all alone and looking like a cross between Martina Navratilova and Shivani Singh Tharu.
I flashed my Everest toothpaste smile. She scowled back. I asked whether she had a cigarette. Assuming a quick kung-fu pose, she showed me a stick of explosives. When she later shook my hand to say goodnight, it hurt for hours. Little did I know that inflicting pain was her damningly seductive way of breaking ice: "You are cool, and I am hot. Dinner tomorrow?"
We met for dal-bhat the following evening at Madan Bhojanalaya- a hideaway that was miles away from any police station. She showed up, dressed-to-kill: khaki fatigues, combat boots and a rifle slung from her left shoulder. Before sitting down, she frisked me from head to toe, pausing briefly to massage my pant-pockets for any concealed weapon.
In no time though, with the glow from Tiger Lalteen bouncing off her face, we were whispering sweet nothings. She was Comrade Natasha, a rising star at the Destruction & Mayhem Bureau. She said she had instructions to finish "certain work" at Sanchaya Kosh buildings. I patted her cheeks, teasing that a bombshell like her should not work too hard.
Over time I learnt that having an underground girlfriend meant that you could never call her. You sat by the phone, and waited for it to ring. When I didn't hear from her for days, I worried that the worst had happened. But when we did meet, we never visited Himalayan Java in Thamel to snuggle on the couch. Nor did we go to Nanglo's Rooftop on Durbar Marg for chicken sizzlers. Too risky, she chided. Instead, we met for pani-puri at back-alley eateries, far from army check-posts, where rats fought with roaches for leftovers on the floor.
Often, exhausted by the demands of her revolutionary war, she would visit me, only to leave at dusk with a pressure-cooker. Once I asked why she ran off with my kitchen utensils. She gave me that come-hither look, and soon had me tied up in a perform-or-perish Khajurao position, which was enjoyable.
To replenish the cooker supply, I continued buying pressure-cookers from a sahu down the road. After seeing on Nepal TV what became of the cookers he had sold earlier, he grew afraid to charge me money. Even the neighborhood dadas, who used to beat me up before, bowed low with respect once they saw who I was with. Having a rebel babe by my side meant access to power, influence, fun and wads of cash looted from banks.
But good times don't last. And neither do good people together. Eventually, politics destroyed our relationship. She asked me to prove my love by going underground. I told her I couldn't sink that low. Besides, I lived in a basement already. She wanted help with blowing up telecom towers. When she saw that all that I could blow up were balloons, her disappointment knew no bounds.
She ordered that I criticise myself for disobedience. I smiled, and moved closer to nibble her ear-lobes. But she shoved me aside. Putting the gun to my forehead, she shouted that she had stripped me of all romantic rights, and demoted me to an "ordinary lover" status. She also said that she might have to kill me to show how much she cared about me. I was touched that her love was so deadly. When we broke up for good, I landed at Bir Hospital with 12 broken bones.
These days, I look back upon the whole affair and console myself that it was better to have loved and undergone a hip-replacement surgery than to have never loved at all.
THE END
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Arko
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Posted on 04-02-06 6:20
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Like most of the girls who are attracted towards jerks and stick with them who even after they were abused, Ashu you were duly paid off for your affair with Comrade Natasha. You taught me couple of things by your story. 1. I should have Everest toothpaste smile. 2. I should buy pressure cooker regularly to get free pressure cookers. It would be a good income soon. Good April Fool story.
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porcelina
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Posted on 04-02-06 6:57
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Thaha_Panyen
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Posted on 04-02-06 12:04
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even knowing it as "fool" stuff, mentioned at the top, i went through it with birds eye, and from first sight I could recall that i read it sometimes ago somewhere. it is really interesting and reflects some sorts of life of a maoist fighter. they are used to in killings and/or dying. it's difficult to imagine how they will adjust themseves in the lives in the village/city from lives in the jungle if they come to mainstream.
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Mr. Lonely
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Posted on 04-02-06 4:08
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Natasha reminded me of the lady maoist who once came to my office back in Nepal for donation. I am sure she must have bought few pressure cookers from the money she got from us. Good one Ashu, enjoyed it thoroughly.
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Pade_Queen_no.1
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Posted on 04-02-06 8:43
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ahaha kati ramro prem katha - cho cho romantic!
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ashu
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Posted on 04-03-06 6:46
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Thank you all for your kind words. I appreciate them all all. Three additions: 1. This was originally published in Nepal's most influential English newsweekly --The Nepali Times, issue dated the 1st April 2005. 2. The piece is adapted from lengthier materials used for a half-hour ko English-Nepali stand-up comedy show in Kathmandu on the 1st April 2004. 3. Needless to say, this was and is a work of fiction. oohi ashu
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mahisasur
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Posted on 04-03-06 7:08
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This article made me laugh right from the beginning. Butwal Lodge in Kalanki re, somewhat like Bajrayogini Momo center Assume a date assuming a kung-fu pose when asked for a cigarette a date having Glow from Tiger Lalteen in her face and stealing pressure cookers and many more such instances must have made a nice stand-up comedy thx for the laugh
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jira
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Posted on 04-03-06 11:34
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Sandhurst Lahure
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Posted on 04-03-06 11:58
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Ashu, :-) Such a refreshing re-read! And the hospital food would have doubtless tasted awful! :-) My apologies for using this rather esoteric metaphor that they use in my line of profession ie when one incurs severe damage/fracture to the karang region! This is how you vent your spleen at others for offending you: hey, you *^^$%&^& , FANCY the hospital friggin food or what? :-) Even with having to nurse the 12 bichara broken karangs and oh, a hip-replacement surgery to boot, Oohi Ashu pulls together - customary though it is of him - that rare gusto of standing up in his crooked crutches (ouch! the karangs hurt!) and still easily manages to bring the bloody house down. Blimey. Excuse the French there! This is OA at his humorous best. Would it be pol-tee-kali karekt if I were to draw a sano comparison between OA's humour bites with that of the Bart-Simpson looking literary weirdo fron NY who otherwise goes by the name of Woody Allen? Because the karang episode reminds me of my reading him many moons ago. It must be in his 'Complete Prose' or 'Without Feathers' where he has some really funny things to say about Hemingway and his perversely fascinating ways in the world (bull-fighting, and err womanising - what else!). Sad old git! :-) Right, next time yours truly is home, he is going to look her up. Oh yes. He might as well take up Oohi Ashu's place, knowing fully of course what will be in the menu - the broken karangs included! Ahem. Hey what's wrong with him having a tad bit of smooching with the feisty bhayanak Comrade Natasha eh? Fancy hospital food? Well, he will be stealthily clad in one of those military bullet proof body armours when he jumps in for the 'final act''! Sorted! A very happy belated April Fool's Day! :-) Carpe diem
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ashu
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Posted on 04-04-06 3:45
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Mahisasur, Thanks for your kind words. *** Jira, A word of appreciation (literally) from you about my attempts at writing humor means a lot to me. I have long been a silent admirer of your extremely humorous pieces/poems and stand-up comedy-esque monologues that you post here on Sajha. **** S L, Thank you. Like you, I am a big fan of Woody Allen, and my so-called humor pieces, for what they are worth, owe a lot to my having read too many Allen pieces and to having watched and re-watched too many of his movies. Allen is a god, really, of finely controlled absurdities. oohi ashu
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Sandhurst Lahure
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Posted on 04-04-06 6:51
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Ashu, Thanks for your reply. So, you too, like I, are a big WA fan? Blimey! Yes, Allen is a god in his own right. I think, the unique Woody Allen craft lies in his ability to put together examples, literary or otherwise, and draw from these a general description to elaborate his crooked grand theories. The end product is always hilarious - only a few writers can shoulder the Allen mantle. I have read a few of his books including 'A Complete Prose' and 'Without Feathers'. Cracking. Any particular books that you might perhaps recommend to me? Yes, his films are a class act. Annie Hall, Manhattan, Everyone Says I Love You collectively top my Allen list. I forgot to say in my previous post that I'd greatly enjoyed your humour (excuse my English spelling! :-)) when it was first published in Nepali Times. The other I like immensely was about the Miss Nepal beauty contest - the comments about some Brahmin-surname sporting sundaris but with their decidedly un-Brahmin anuhaar were funny! :-) Hope all is well with you and that workload has not withered your otherwise invincible passion for debate. Did enjoy your posts in the other Baburam thread greatly. Your shubha-bibaaha prep taking apace, no? My best wishes as always. Have a good day.
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confusedd
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Posted on 04-04-06 7:22
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Ashu ko serious kaam Sajha ma ayera post garni ho? haha Sajilai raicha Nepal ma gayera dollar kamanuna ta.
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ashu
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Posted on 04-04-06 7:34
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S L, My better half and I are doing well. Thank you. Meantime, here is that piece that you remembered some details of. ******************************** The gori details by oohi ashu (published under a different name) Nothing like a modelling contest to remind you that beauty is only skin deep From Issue #199 (04 June 04 - 10 June 04) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So there I was, working hard on a presentation all through Saturday afternoon, wondering what to do at night to let off some steam. Should I call up friends and go see Mani Ratnam’s movie "Yuva" at Jai Nepal Cinema with dinner at Thamel afterwards? Or chill out with them at an airport sekuwa ghar with beer? Or I could make some thick soup and curl up with Ha Jin’s book "The Bridegroom". Then again, listening to some humid jazz in one of Kathmandu’s smoke-filled bars sounded good too. Then the phone rang. My buddy SMS was inviting me to the finale of 2004 Saboon Beauty Star Contest. “For free, yaar,†SMS went on. “I’ve got you a pass. There’s dinner afterward. Be at the Hyatt at seven. I’ll meet you at the lobby. And, uh, wear something nice.†The Hyatt was packed to the rafters with Kathmandu’s who’s who. Not the literary, poetic types. Nor the rabble-rousing political brigade. There were corporate types with wives in various stages of undress. The multinational crowd was there in force and the media typhoons. Elderly women, sporting salt-and-pepper hair, were resplendent in their saris. The men were all dressed like Wall Street bankers. Everyone seemed to know each other and in the pre-event cocktail chatted with effortless rib-poking banter. The show begins. Eighteen girls make an appearance, wearing skimpily outrageous costumes that no woman would wear on the streets of Kathmandu. They were scrawnyâ€â€some looked positively malnourished. “Don’t they feed these girls?†I ask SMS. “Only lettuce,†he answers. What are these? Goats? The ethnography of the contestants is fascinating, and some of the visibly non-bahuni lasses have bahun surnames. What is going on here? “When we bahuns sleep around, we contribute to the melting pot of this great nation,†whispers SMS. The guy in front gives us a dirty look: we are ruining his concentration. Looks like the fair ones have an advantage here. And sure enough, the dusky ethnic types don’t stand a chance. The winner iss as gori as they come. The Kathmandu elite in attendance is composed of old-line aristocrats, largely irrelevant and in need of money, and the yummies (young, upwardly-mobile mummies) who have amassed new money but are in the process of acquiring class so they are taken seriously. And what could be better than for both types to cross-pollinate each other, to see and be seen together at events such as these? And over in the far corner are the 60-something men, who can’t seem to get enough of the 18-year-olds sashaying down the ramp. Next to us is a nattily dressed Alfa Male who displays an enthusiasm for chatting up other people’s wives while neglecting his own. The corporate also-wannabes are clicking away with their Olympus digitals just so they can ogle at the pictures with co-workers on Monday morning. Given the state of the country, I guess it is a form of escapism to spend a Saturday evening watching people watching beautiful young women. And I could still get back to Ha Jin's chinese stories. THE END
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disco__dancer
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Posted on 04-04-06 7:37
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quality stuff......... i hope the police n army r not harassing u for this article!!
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John_Galt
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Posted on 04-04-06 12:42
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Had read it a year ago, what a phenomenal writing, glad to read it again. kudos ashu.
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lfc123
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Posted on 04-04-06 12:44
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best piece of creative writing i have seen in sajha...
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wtf
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Posted on 04-04-06 2:41
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Felicity
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Posted on 04-04-06 3:56
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Sandhurst Lahure
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Posted on 04-05-06 4:48
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A hilarious re-read, Ashu - doubtless proved a most fitting way 'to let off .. [the mid-week] steam'! Lettuce eating, malnourished goats eh! :-) Thank goodness, you didn't let this comment slip off your mukh there or the drooling, ogling, hormonally charged, cud-chewing cloven-hoofed male bovids would have set upon you and your 12 karangs/haddis at once! :-) Excuse the burst of adjectives there - my half-baked humour if you will! I hope you have a good day today. Me, out in the field this afternoon, doing some orienteering, and the mausam is fantastic - the air is nippy though! Take care.
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