Nepali Kalasahitya Dot Com Pratishthan


Mahesh Paudyal

An Aborted Tomorrow

“Sir, my mother has sent some money. Will you keep it for me? I may lose it.”
It was already dark and the stars were twinkling outside. Everyone was happy except me, I thought. I turned to the child. Austere was his face and innocent were his looks. How much belief he had in me!
I could not answer him right away. I lifted him up and pointed towards the sky.
“My King, can you see the bright moon up there in the sky?”
“Yes, Sir!”
“One day you will shine like the moon. I will make you shine.”
The child did not speak for a long time. Most probably he was wondering what the black spots in the moon were.
“Sir, my money. Won’t you keep it for me? “
I was trapped again. I had to reply.
“Today is Tuesday, my child. On Tuesdays, we don’t give money to anyone. Keep it for a night, and tomorrow, I will surely take it.” I was not sure whether Tuesdays were inauspicious for financial give and take. The sentence came to me, for I needed an excuse.
“Thank you, Sir!”
The hostel was a big building. We had a fine top from which we could feel the cool evening breeze. Two of us were only there.
Tring, tring, rang my cell, and there was his mother. It was a smart coincidence. It was almost like a fairy tale.
“Sir Namaskar! I think my son reached well.”
“Yes Madam. Please do not worry. I am here.”
“Yes, my son mentions your name time and again. He has told me you love him so much.”
“Ya, a sort like that..”
“We are ‘janma dine’ parents and you are ‘karma dine’ parents.”
She meant that they were the progenitors, and we the teachers were the acculturating parents.
“Let me pass the phone to him!”
I passed the cell to him, and heard a son and a mother talk in the great resonance of love. I could not help remembering my own mother. On the day I left home, she had advised me, “Always love people. This is our culture!” She had tears in her eyes, and they occupied much of my mind for many, many hours during my journey.
The mother and the son talked about many things. The memory of my mother came floating in the air. He passed the phone to me once again.
“Sir, I rely on you. Please take care of my son.”
“He is my son too. Please be sure. I will not allow any hardship to touch him.”
“Thanks. May I take leave?”
Slowly it was getting colder. We thought it better to move into the dormitory. We started descending the stairs. He held my hand, and I held his heart. Such warmth! I bet you can never experience it for a million dollar.
“Sir, the glass of my wrist-watch has broken. Will you help me replace it? If my father sees, he will scold. He will come soon, I think.”
I knew that was a new watch. I too knew that he was a small child and it was quite natural for him to break it. I could not promise the mending, however.
“Sir please… I am afraid”
“Sure, my child. It is dark you know. Tomorrow, you and I will go to Kaushaltar and get it mended. Is that OK?”
“OK Sir!”
By then, we had reached the threshold of the dormitory. There was nobody around. All had moved to their study rooms for the evening tutorials.
“Sir, I have problems with biology. I have not understood anything about the root system. Will you explain?”
“Sure my child.Tomorrow!”
He started hurrying up for the class. The teacher would not allow the late comers to enter. He knew this.
“Babu!” I said, holding his hands.
“I will not leave you till you pass your SLC. You will be a great doctor one day, and I will help you.
“I know you have some problems. I will correct them. One day you will shine out. You are my king. “
He did not say anything. What could he say? He was too young to understand the total world of my rippling emotions.
This way, we reached the study room, and I ushered him in. The teacher said nothing, because I was there. He started doing his works and I returned to the dormitory.
At midnight I woke up and inserted something inside his pillows.
It was five and I woke up. I remembered all the promises I had made the previous night. When they all woke up and went to the top floor for ablution, I went too. I saw him; he was brushing his teeth. He looked austere and innocent. I felt like going to him and picking him up as I had done the previous evening. But something inside me prevented. I paid him a squinted look. He did not see me. Quickly I came down.
When he came down after the wash, I was not there. The last time I saw him was with a brush in his mouth. Yes, he looked austere and innocent.
Where did the promise go? I had run away, leaving him and leaving everyone else.
After around fifteen days, I visited them. The moment I was inside the gate, he came running, caught my arms, and said, “Sir, you told me that you would mend my watch. Take, and do it today. That money too! You have to keep,” and before I had said anything, he ran to get his watch and the money. I stood there speechless.
Someone told me in the afternoon that for those fifteen days, he had not read a word. He just kept looking out of the window. Perhaps he was looking at the spot in the sky where we had spotted the moon together, and I had given him false dreams.
We plan our ways, our days and our directions because we love our ambitions and our money. Many children plan their ways, their days and their directions because they love us. Where is the intersection of the two? Obviously not in the false dreams we force them into.


Translation: Writer Himself

Publisher :
Nepali KalaSahitya Dot Com Pratisthan

Distinct Advisor :
SP Koirala

Advisors :
Umesh Shrestha
Mohan Bdr. Kayastha
Radheshyam Lekali
Yograj Gautam
Dr. Hari Prasad (Manasagni)
Dr. Badri Pokhrel
Yogendra Kumar Karki
Rajendra Shalabh
Kapil Dev Thapa
Samir Jung Shah
Advisor Editor :
Rajeshwor Karki

Chief Editor :
Momila Joshi

Transcreator :
Mahesh Paudyal 'Prarambha'
Kumar Nagarkoti
Suresh Hachekali
Keshab Sigdel

Website Developer:
Shailendra Adhikari
Keep in Touch: