Whenever I reach the village, beautiful memories start to flash like scenes from a movie. Childhood voices begin to be heard in the murmuring torrent. The childhood that was lost with the arrival of the city, the alleys that were lost with the arrival of development, and the organic beauty of the Syangja Putali Bazaar—all of these come alive.

This Tihar, Bhaitika was celebrated in the village after 17 years. The gathering of sisters, relatives and friends made me feel warm and I started remembering those days. The days when they looked like ‘heaven’ through the lens of this age.

Our ears would be very alert when we heard the word ‘Bida’. While throughout the class, any letter that Sir taught would be heard with one ear and blown out with the other. This is why we once met Sir’s Ramdhula. Sometimes, while the school was in session, the notice of half-holiday would come. When I was studying in class 8, at that time, some of my friends and I would sit towards the last bench of the class. Awadhesh Jha Sir was teaching science in the third bell class. While he was teaching, a notice came to the class and he read it out. The notice said ‘Bida’. We were very happy to get a sudden leave. We could neither speak out loud nor laugh in front of Sir. However, how could we stop laughing? Sir has seen it. Then he said angrily, ‘You are very happy when you are on holiday. Come on, now I will ask you a ‘question’.’ He asked the three of us a question. We could not answer. And then he beat us in such a way that it was the hardest beating.

What would happen to us who celebrate so happily during the half-holiday when the long holiday comes? It was the same during Dashain-Tihar. On top of that, I never went to school on Fridays.

When I was in third grade, every Friday after the fourth bell rang, there was an extracurricular activity in school. The sir and miss would put all the students in the courtyard and make them sing and play. Once, the sir made me sing a song. I said that it would be very awkward for me to sing and dance. When the sir said that I had to sing or get beaten, I sang. I was so embarrassed while singing that my ears were ringing. I remember singing the song ‘Mire Mire Jali Rumal’ at that time. Tulke sings the same song in the film ‘Talkjung Versus Tulke’. I sang it in the same style at that time. That day, I returned home with a heavy burden of shame. After that, I did not go to school on any Friday. 

I used to make various excuses at home. What would my parents think of my stubbornness? 

During the long Dashain-Tihar vacation, we used to go to the village youth library. There were books of stories and novels there. In the library, one person would read aloud, while others would listen. I really liked going there. Chudamani Aryal Uncle read Maxim Gorky’s novel ‘Aama’ aloud to me. I have been interested in stories and novels since I was a child. I did not know at that time that I wanted to write. Later, as the interest grew, I thought – I will become a writer.

During Dashain-Tihar, our hearts were set on cards since we were young. If we found out at home, we would be devastated. We used to walk in search of a safe place. We would give a little money to an old woman who lived in the house and hide inside. Sometimes we would play in a shack. We would even go into the forest and play cards. Our card-playing friends at that time were Deepak Aryal, Khila Aryal, Uttam Aryal, Khimlal Lamichhane, and Khagendra Aryal. We used to play with our own money as long as we had money and when we ran out, we would also borrow money. Now, when I go to the village, I meet those same old friends. When I meet them, I joke, ‘Dude, I want to borrow money from you to play cards.’ They laugh. And we start wandering together in our childhood memories.

We used to go swimming in the Andhikhola. At that time, there were a lot of fish in the Andhikhola. We would catch fish and eat them. The river was beautiful. The water was clean. We used to drink and quench our thirst. But, the Andhikhola is not like the Andhikhola it is now. People have spoiled its appearance. A person who has lived a village life and gone to the city misses his village very much. I keep going to the village. 

When I go to Syangja, I make plans the day before, ‘I will do this to the orange orchard, I will do this to the village.’ But, when I see the stormy river from the highway, I start feeling the most miserable.

When I return to school after the Dashain-Tihar vacation, I feel happy with the excitement of meeting my dear friends. Along with happiness, there was also a fear. Because during such a long vacation, books and papers were not turned over even once. When I did not do homework, I would hold a reed stick in my hand. I would think, ‘Come on, I will put a stick in my hand instead. It hurts for a moment. It will be over. Why do homework with so much pain?’

I studied in two schools. After studying in the village’s Divya Gyan Primary School till class 5, we went to school in Lek. Our village was dominated by Brahmins. The school, which was an hour and a half walk away, was predominantly Gurung. We were admitted there from grade 6. I got along with everyone. Among them, I had many Gurung friends. When I was studying in school, we used to go to stay at a friend's house. We also used to go. Ram Bahadur Gurung was a very close friend of mine. We studied together until grade 9. I am still friends with him and his family.

There was one Awadhesh Jha Sir, from Gorakhpur. He used to teach us science and mathematics. Sir used to go to Syangja Bazaar to watch Hindi films. On Saturdays, when we went to the market, Sir would meet my father at our shop in the market. 

Father would say, 'Sir, this is my son. He is weak in studies. He doesn't even want to do his homework at home. He has to be beaten up badly.' I always sat on the bench behind. Sir would ask, 'Where are you? Are you standing?' When he didn't know, he would beat me. 

Even though I was weak in studies, I was stubborn. That's why I was always ahead in the eyes of the teachers. If the teachers had to send a student out as a representative, I would take the initiative. I repeated classes many times in school. 

I failed in third grade, fourth grade too. And, I repeated grade 9 too. When I failed grade 3, I cried and said I had failed. Because my brothers also surpassed me in age. At that time, my father gave me sweets and reminded me, 'You will pass next year if you study well. Don't worry.' At other times, he would pressure me to study, but when I was sad, my father would hold me in his arms and give me food to remind me.

I didn't fail grade 9 and repeat it. My studies were weak. Moreover, I didn't want to pass SLC. I wanted to stay in the village and work in my own orange orchard. Even though I passed, I repeated grade 9. I told my father, 'I will study well in ninth grade.' My father said worriedly, 'Why would someone who has passed delay a year? Now you will study well, right?’ But, what will the father do in front of my stubbornness? After repeating the class, I started studying well. I started doing homework at home. I got 75 percent in the sixth month exam. I was surprised about my studies. Now I thought I did well, I will pass. I gave up studying again. Nevertheless, I came third in the 10th grade exam. When I was given a pen and paper, I felt like I was the Messiah. I passed the SLC. Even if I didn’t, I didn’t worry. After the SLC, I told my father, ‘I will study in a college in Syangja.’ My father didn’t agree. He tried to send me to Kathmandu. Sir Tilakram Subedi, who taught us tuition at home, intervened, ‘You didn’t say it, my father didn’t say it. Let’s study in Pokhara.’

After this, childhood left the village. A new struggle began with the chapter of life. Looking back now, it feels so funny. At that time, Khagendra was also a fighter. 

I always had a fight with a friend named Lekhnath Aryal. Due to the fight, we would even stop talking. The stopped conversation would not open up for years. Even four years ago, when we met in the village, we had not spoken. I was surprised. And I told him, ‘Lekhnath, we still don’t speak because of the fight we had as children.’ He laughed. He was also feeling awkward. Then he also started chatting saying ‘that’. We took pictures.

As soon as I came to the city, I followed the path of my dream. I became an artist. Although I was a ‘celebrity’ for people, I was the same Khagendra for the village. When the people of the village went out and heard my praise, they felt proud. Many years after becoming an artist, I met our school principal Purushottam Sir. We used to call him Head Sir. When we met after 20 years, he was already very old. He was sitting reading a newspaper. I greeted him. He greeted me back with a smile. I told him, ‘Have you forgotten me? I am Khagendra, sir.’ Then he became very happy. He said, ‘Khagendra, you are doing so well. I have been reading about you in the newspaper.’