UNSEEN REALITIES

UNSEEN REALITIES


A professor was teaching the features of a drama in the class how mode of drama has taken place. Students were listening audio of characters’ conversation. The professor was assuring characters’ dialogues the way they have spoken. Situation was quite critical that colonel was forcefully saying to confess the accusation.

At the same time, a man enters into the classroom near to the professor as soon as class was over. He was chief of army. They were friend, it was nothing but he invites to the professor to attend at the theatre where a drama is going to be shown. Moreover, a minister will be watching the drama as well. Chorus and protagonist of the drama present an episode of a drama. The drama was written by a man, who was also known as poet, sitting in the chair watching attentively.

And, the fact was that the character who presented drama was Manaslu, the mistress of the writer. They were revolutionist of the country or say, communists. Actually, ‘army chief and minister’ both were making mission to arrest them, because they were revolutionists working against existing state’s policy.

Now, the mission comes on the head of professor to accomplish it on stipulated time because, he was supposed to be expert. For that, everything was set up including recording equipments of the couples and their colleagues. The main task of professor was then to hear their each moment and submit the report to army chief.

He reports whatever he thinks important. Since he was great fan of the lady artiste, he was more enthusiasts to know about them. Day, week passed, he goes no reporting. He records their daily activities and scans it to white sheet. Their relationship seemed sentimentally well attached. It was Thursday evening, she goes out to meet her school mate from the room but she goes to the minister because he has relationship with him also.
The writer has already suspected her but he did not ask anything neither did she reveal. She came and slept without speaking even one word. She was shivering with cold, seeing in pathetic condition, he covers with his warm hands. After an hour, he asked her but, she was trying to deceive him. He says that he knows everything where she goes.

She gets shocked with his words, after a minute with long breath, she was says that she went with minister many times because she wanted him alive besides her, if she was not with minister, his life was in danger. ‘I am unwillingly doing this, she says’. The writer blushed with anger- To do this for saving his life was like deceiving his own self and country. Their discussion was quite serious, the professor was listening.

The professor, on the other hand, was not ready to report about the subject matter what about them was going on. The chief was trying to collect authentic evidence against minister and them, so that file is writ to court. The professor knew what army chief, his friend, was doing. He had understood his project properly.

One day professor was drinking in the pub, some people were laughing, and some places were seen empty table. A lady enters and sits next to his table, asks drinks. It was same lady, the artiste. The professor was cool and reserved nature goes to her table, as a well-wisher greets her. But she was serious, unwanted to chat as though she was seen that she was doing something wrong. They were never talked each other before. At once, the professor spit it out that her beautiful face would change if there was something wrong. “Life is not drama where life is disguised with full of happiness, she resists”. An artist also can be on pathetic situation. She departs at once saying that college mate is waiting outside.

One week later, with the help to his colleague, the writer was planning to write an article about the ‘state’s policy’ on behalf of its people. With long effort a friend provides him a typewriter. If any security agency found it, they would be sent in jail so, they had to do this task with precautious. Everyday after writing, He hides it under the ground right to main door. He had not told her either. Once, as a usual, he was keeping it on her absence; but, unfortunately, she saw it from the passage while she was coming. But she neglected it as if it was not an important.

Security agency had managed the room on the top floor of house. Every evening professor would come and depart in the early morning. He prepares reports if there had happened something special. But when chief of army asks, he replies no thing is going on.

Meantime, news hit the market in which state’s oppression had been exposed. It became the issue everywhere even to the minister and chief of army. Immediately, the professor was called to inquire but he did not reveal reality though he knew everything. He had realized that what they were doing was not against the sovereignty rather they were digging a well for freedom.

They got no option to do, the minister thinks for a while and orders to arrest the lady artiste for 24 hours for inquiry how it happened. On the contrary, chief of army warned to professor to find out the facts. She recognizes him; however the professor had no choice. He interrogates some questions.

‘So, you work for security agency? She interrupts’ He reiterates her performance that he always appreciated her. He also promises to save writer’s life and her life if she reveals where the typewriter is. Now she agrees and says that it has been hid under the ground near the main door. At once the professor went out. The troops of army go to the writers’ apartment where typewriter was supposed to be hidden. The security agency knock the door, the writer get surprised when he sees her mistress is with agency. As she said agency opened up the cover, but they got nothing. The chief was out of control. He begins to curse her.

Manaslu runs out of the house. She knew that she had betrayed the writer. The professor was leaning against police’s truck, she was running so fast, she was crying. When she was crossing the road, a car knocked her down. On the road, covered with spot of red blood, first the professor reached near but she was almost dead. When he tries to wake up she last opened her eyes and spoke a word ‘thank you’ to him.
The government then announced real federal state where every stakeholder of state will have freedom of expression. One year later, in anniversary, a drama was presented on the story of the writer. It was splendid performances. Seeing the every moment of own life, the writer cannot believe it. He knows when asks to see reports. All the files made on piles, he got real information on the drama library that his article published date, hiding the typewriter under the ground, typewriter taken out before security agency reached there.


Prepared by PANASI 063
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The writer gets the professor as news deliverer in federal state.

My life: My belief

My life: My belief

I believe in word because it has power to change the life; I knew the hidden power of letter when I entered into the class of adult education at the very beginning. There, I saw three letter of my name from very close, came to know for the first time that I am not the chamili called by all, but chameli- A tiny mode of writing changed my name. I thought at that time as if it is magic

Chameli waiba, resident of bajrabarahi in makawanpur, 37 years old, married 25 years ago. She spent 24 years being alone, isolated husband. She believes in the magic of words, that word whose support has changed her utter life, changed her world.
In 2051 in the evening for the first time I knew three letters. What I felt that time was we get name if we know three letters, if we know all letters we shall get real life either. I wrote my name again and again, when I got return at home in the evening. What a great task was it to write own name in life! Then a kind of attachment it increased to know letters that I started taking books while going for cutting grass.

My life was like a manmade lake nearby village before knowing my life, dammed always. I had a pain of childhood marriage, agony of poverty; no accompany of husband, neither had a skill nor courage- that of today, tomorrow and day after tomorrow life was going to be more difficult, it was growing the number of educated people day by day. Moreover, their life seemed to have made easier, then I began to realized that neither wealth nor beauty in life, rather I was betrayed of letters in life.

With the magic of word, I was fully fueled by self- confidence and courage that made restless of curiosity, ‘my life is gone but younger brothers and sisters should reach towards all letters wherever they want, I committed’. But for that, Tashar River was big problem beneath the house; rest of the world was across the river. School children would not go to school in the summer being unable to cross the river. I dreamt of a suspending bridge there- Collecting the courage given by the magic of letter, requested to all to put a bridge over the river. At first, no any villagers believed to me nor were helping hands. Some of them even mocked ‘she needs only’ by saying ‘Chameli Bridge’. After all, with a long effort a bridge made there. Now, I see and feel really satisfied when school students and campus students run on that bridge,

The germination of dream to make the bridge was first due to awareness of letter but it was not enough to dream of making. Furthermore, there were more then three hundred villagers’ soldiers and became possible; I came to comprehend that Iron Bridge is inevitable for river, for men, bridge of letter and, the bridge of community is the development of community itself.