The time I was born, the period in which I grew up, seems to me to be a golden time. Like me, others may or may not find the period in which they grew up to be golden. I rarely remember the past. When someone asks me to write, I am forced to wander through the past.

When I recall my childhood, some still images come one after another and they turn into colorful pictures. Jacaranda trees standing at the required distance on the wide sidewalk around Tundikhel, its purple flowers scattered on the sidewalk, newly installed traffic lights, pagoda-style, shikhara-style and stupa-style temples and chaityas, some built of red bricks, some decorated with tipikari and some decorated with houses based on Greek and Roman architecture, pictures of the city turn up one after another in the album of memory. And, I remember the attractive cars that are now considered vintage, tiger-butte taxis, the red-painted bus plying on clean roads. When I remember now, the city was peaceful and beautiful. 

Most of the residents of the city were curious, the economic-social-political transformation was a regular dream they saw. People's hearts were soaked with love and harmony. 

My world was my family, that is, my father and mother! I saw the society as they showed me. Among my other friends, TR Vishwakarma, Ganeshnath Yogi, Vasu Shashi, Bhavani Bhikshu, Mohanlal Kapali, Bhavani Ghimire, Haider Ali, Qamar Shah, Bhaidai Shrestha, Til Bahadur Loksam and Madanmani Dixit are some of the names I remember. Their attire was not ordinary attire. Clean and simple attire but different fashion! They looked like actors from some black and white film. Whenever they met, they would dream of revolution, think about the prosperity of society. Some of them were homeopathic doctors, some were teachers, some were poets, artists and journalists and some were grocery store owners.

Ba was a teacher. He had also taken the training given in Tahachal called Teachers Training established with foreign aid. He had enough to eat two meals a day, he could gamble the money to buy me clothes during Dashain, and one day a week, he would even cook chicken meat in the kitchen. However, even though I was a teacher, my father could not afford to enroll me in school for many years. Until the age of 7, my mother taught me at home, teaching me the numbers कहगग्गग, ABCD and one-two-three-four. It was then that I got some money from somewhere and was admitted to the Children's Pedagogy School behind Mitra Park. After a few months, I left school. There were two reasons - first, my father's pocket was full, and second, a new word I learned from school! It was the Nepali translation of 'motherfucker'.

I met my mother's Ramdhu many times when I was little. This time too, I met her and, as ordered, I finished writing A to Gya, One to Hundred and A to Z on the red part of the wall, which was painted half white and half red, while crying. That evening, I was only able to eat rice from my mother's hand.

There was no school anymore. We had already migrated to Pashupati via Bhimsensthan, Pyukha, Pyaphal and Siphal. I was admitted to the 4th grade at the Sharda Secondary School in Pashupati when I was 9 years old. After taking the examination, I could not get the results. Because I could not afford to pay the fees for the whole year. The next year, my name was enrolled in the Pashupati Mitra Secondary School - in the 6th grade. Maqbul Khan, Mahmud Khan, Bir Bahadur Tamang, Raju Bharati, Govinda Varthaman are some of the names who were my classmates. Here too, the story of the Sharda School repeated itself. The fees were not paid, and the mark sheet was not received. One of my father's friends, Basanta Bahadur Shrestha, had opened the New English Boarding School in Baneshwor. That was my next school. I don't know what happened to my pass or fail at Sharda and Pashupati Mitra, but the work of moving up the class was ongoing. I was admitted to the third standard there. In government schools, that meant seven classes. There was no education after the third. However, there, students who passed third grade could get admission in eighth grade at Padmodaya or Vijay Smarak Secondary School. After third, I now went to Vijay Smarak to get admission in eighth grade. 

It must be difficult for a child's brain to grow up leaving old friends and learning how to live with new friends every year while visiting schools. Psychologists say that in such a situation, anxiety, stress and frustration arise in children. Because they have to face constant change and have to adjust to the new teaching method and social environment. This can lead to feelings of sadness, loneliness and confusion. And, they may have to struggle to maintain self-esteem and find it difficult to make new friends. What happened to me? I don't remember anything. Did my idea of ​​accepting reality and not worrying develop during this period? Do you know? The habit of not expecting anything, without any plans and dreams, being busy with the journey and accepting whatever comes developed in me during the change of this school, then I am grateful to that destiny. 

I used to play only pottery and fly kites once a year, but after coming to Vijay Memorial, I suddenly became familiar with Gucha, Khopi, Pangra, Hwagra and Dandibio. Football was also played in Kailash. But, not real football, but Bhogte ball. I had torn my big toenail and bled many times. I was so dedicated that I was ready to play again after recovering. There was badminton in the market, there was table tennis. TT was also played by making a hardcover of a copy into a bat, a net of bricks and a board of a bench. After a while, lawn tennis and cricket also came. But, that was not for us poor people. Apart from that, we used to make neat bundles of cigarette butts, which required skill to make, and among us, bundles were like a currency, a currency that did not circulate in the market – only among us. Probably, the children of that time were very creative, idealistic, which was a quality that was passed on to them due to their parents' imitation. They were chaotic, but also disciplined. 

There were attendance and answer programs. I represented my school on the radio. I used to go to participate in children's programs on the radio - the presenters were Dhan Lama Didi and Nirodhraj Pandey Dai. There were no holidays in summer, but in winter there was a fifty-day holiday called Meenpachas. I have heard somewhere that Meenpachas means that even fish freeze in the water. It was very cold at that time. I remember the thick fog in the morning, the fields soaked with frost, freezing as soon as they touched the water. Some people would bathe after heating the water, but we did not know about it. If it was sunny on Saturday, we would bathe after heating the water in the sun. During Meenpachas, extra-curricular sports activities were organized for the students at the Bal Mandir Naxal. Where I also got to participate and learned gymnastics. I can still do one exercise. 

My maternal home is in Sarlahi, so I have memories of going to my maternal home with my mother in Meenpachas. I still remember going to my maternal home when I was four or five years old. I took a bus from Kathmandu to Bhimphedi, then a train to Amlekhgunj, from there to Raxaul, and from there to Sitamarhi, and only after getting off at Sitamarhi and walking four kos, I would reach my maternal home. I had to spend a night in Raxaul or Sitamarhi. Even to reach Nepal, I had to travel through Hindustan. Now, it takes four hours to reach my maternal home by jeep via Pharping. But, my maternal home is not there. The house may or may not exist. Someone may have demolished the house and built a magnificent building. 

Holidays were very important. The long holidays of Meenpachas and the long holidays of Dashain-Tihar must have played a role in developing our sense of wanting to have as many holidays as possible. Or maybe the way we were taught was boring. But, I remember some of my teachers from time to time. Baikuntha Sir from New English, who punished the boy who bullied me in a way that was enough to cause a scandal, so that I was safe in school for the whole year. Shanta Bahadur Sir from Vijay Smarak, who praised me when I added the symbol Furka to my name. Madhuri Prasad Yadav Sir from Pashupati Mitra, who was so affectionate that I still remember him from time to time. The headmaster of Pashupati, who taught me to write half L and V under B and P. However, I started writing Biplav many years ago, considering my convenience.

I also had a bicycle before I turned sixteen. But even before that, I had reached Dakshinkali on a rented bicycle with my friend Birendra Bhandari. Nothing happened to me, but he told me many years later in Dallas that Birendra had been bitten by a snake for a few days. After getting my own bicycle, I still remember going to watch Hindi cinema ‘Kohara’ at Navadurga Movie Temple in Bhaktapur and ‘Kora Kagaz’ at Ashok. When I went to watch Kora Kagaz, I brought Govinda uncle on a stick and took him there.

Five years passed and I was in a position to take the 10th test. Only after passing the test could I take the SLC test. I took the test. My father taught primary level in the same school where I studied. I was considered a good student in geography and English at school. And, probably because of my facial features, some teachers had put me on the list of meritorious students. The test results came. They showed a different result. I had a red mark in one subject. That is, I had failed. But I had got the chance to pass as the son of a proletariat sir. In the evening, my father came. Mother and baby were a little confused. I was sitting on the floor above his room. The door opened loudly. I was scared. Baka's eyes were red, he was trembling. He had a knife in his hand. He came straight to me and started beating me with a knife. Ba had never beaten me before, and he never did after that. The unexpected behavior, pain, humiliation, helplessness, and the shame of being passed despite failing all combined into a lump in my throat. It was an unbearable pain, and I probably found an outlet when I screamed and cried. I think that kind of crying is rare. 

My mother, worried about him because he passed despite failing through compassion, added another spice to it. When Ba heard that someone had spread a rumor that I was in love with a girl named Aruna from the neighborhood, that spice was bound to happen. And, the dish of beating was ready. I fainted and Ba left me. After waking up, I was very upset with my mother for making the rumor true. 

From the next day, I read all the course books without anyone telling me anything for a month and a half. In fact, I was studying in school, just passing the time. The results came in April. 

Everyone thought that my name would appear on the board. I told you earlier that it was a white-colored illusion. I knew that my name would appear on my failure. Still, what kind of audacious ambition was there? First I looked at the board, my symbol number was not there. Then I got off the first class, and ran to the second class. Now the camel came under the mountain. Now I had no choice but to go down to the third. I couldn't find my number even in the crowd of symbol numbers of the third class. I felt dizzy. I felt like I was frozen in the heat. I knew that I would fail, but I also wanted my symbol number to be there. My friend congratulated me for taking the first step home with heavy steps. I asked him why with my eyes. He clearly showed me my number three in the Gorkhapatra – 27965 O.