Yesterday evening I met Mr. Wangdel at New Road. “Mr. Shankar, Your article, that article, ‘Shankar Lamichhane in Perspective of Shankar Lamichhane’, I went through.”
“How did you find?”
“Nice. It’s inclined to realism, now, why don’t you write an abstract article?”
“Painting abstract is your job! How can I go towards abstract now?”
“No! I meant, just use abstract style in your pen picture”
I just smiled. (It’s an art to know how to smile! With the development of human age, their smiles become more colorful.) I bid farewell to Mr. Wangdel by smiling, and I changed that topic too.
Mr. Byathit was carrying the cover design of ‘Himani’ on his hand. It was obvious, that was Mr. Wangdel’s brush. It was that obvious that when we hear ‘Himani’, we remember Mr. Byathit’s pen. He was saying, “As you are a pen-driver, give me one article within one or two days! I am going abroad to publish this on the auspicious occasion of Vijaya Dashami.”
I just smiled. (It’s an art to know how to smile! If we don’t know how to smile with person to person, our smiles become wail.) I smiled at Mr. Byathit and bid farewell and tried to change topic.
But, until then neither Mr. Wangdel nor Mr. Baythit nor ‘Himani’, nor Abstract bid farewell from my mind. This mind is miraculous thing- when something is penetrated in it then it’s very difficult to throw it away. When I try, there will be tussle between my personality and that something’s own personality. From mind it never comes out the same that was penetrated- it already will change its form! I began to turn the pages of my mind, let’s see how many things are in there!
Mr. Byathit! Lord Krishna had shown the universe opening his mouth to Yashoda. You see my universe today; what is inside my mind? But, firstly let me recall you that I am a man of Twentieth Century (English!); one so called wise man. Married, children’s father, young, healthy, determined in development, gentle citizen…from Middle-class family! And I am upset, I have plenty problems.
The greatest problem is I am standing on 10 yards land. On one boundary, there is my forefather’s beliefs reside, on next, beliefs of my offspring! I become happy on the launch of Sputnik; when I hear the sickle and hammer printed Russia’s flag has been thumped on the soil of moon, I feel proud as if Khrushchev took that sickle hammer from my own house. On other hand, I fear of being touched by pregnant woman during lunar eclipse- I also become prodigal to help poor; postulating that King Manu is my own Grand Father. To obtain information, I read newspapers, from GorkhaPatra to Times and From News Weekly to Film Fare and Romance too. I always gather trust from each information; I have to. Marilyn Monroe’s suicide and new love life of Elizabeth Taylor are also in my mind! Hamersold’s death, U.N.O.’s arrest warrants, cold war of America and Russia, Laos, Suez, Galvan Valley, Kashmir, Malaya……all problems are in my mind. I read Henry Miller’s ‘Tropic of Cancer’ now where to find ‘Capricorn’? Sir Winston Churchill’s leg has broken, will be healed or not? What will Nepal say in U.N.O.? Who will support Congo the most? My son is cured from Typhoid, whether meat is available in the market or not, Ekadashi is for two days! One scientist succeeded to produce milk from grass; some foreigners stepped in our border and killed our people, somebody tried to kill the President of France, how will the problem of Algeria settle, Albert Camus is also from Algeria, currently I am reading his ‘Myth of Sisyphus’, a Jyapu died across that field, he used to say,‘Ja-nae-dhun-la-bajya’, he doesn’t have any child, Wangdel also doesn’t have any, and he asks me write abstract….like the cover of ‘Himani’, like the language of Byathit…………
Amid these numbers of absurd thoughts, I have retained my persona inside the boundary of my 10 yard land. Hey! you Byathits and Wangdels! just assume that my life is an abstract life, I always ignored this, I always am ignoring this. My every dawn starts from “I need penny to buy vegetables”, and my every day spent to earn this and my every dusk ends at “I am bit tired today than always.” Every day, my known pals die somewhere, everyday I plan for future and analyze the present. Everyday I bargain on my own belief, my ideals, my principles and my own desires. ‘Housekeeper brought meat today; butcher cheated him, all bones…..’ ‘Today’s milk…all water….’ ‘Woods are dipped….very expensive’- these are things that are within my boundary where my wife, children, servant share these quotes to my mind. Except these quotes, there are some which I pretend to penetrate- Today Nehru said this…..in parliament, is this a truth? The new steps taken by Khrushchev in Berlin, now how will it affect to the world? From where will it start if World war begins? Due to Thalidomide medicine, how many children will suffer? Ah! Where did Alfred Nash die? He actually had a wish to die between mountains….
Mr. Wangdel! Whose life is not abstract? Whose life is not scornful- unless silence covers its smell? Whose sentiments are not sneering- unless the melody of smile covers it up? Who doesn’t have greed- unless strife kills them? Mr. Byathit! This is not the age of hermitages of ‘Satya Yuga’ now! Now every active citizen’s brain is no smaller than Lord Krishna’s huge incarnated form!
Today’s every man is a god. Such a god who has created his own world- by their crooks, betrayal, murder, irresponsibility, superstition, devotion, laws and foolishness. And today’s god is not bounded by religion too, he finds Christ, Mohammed and Buddha his rivals. And today’s god is quite diplomatic too, like a priest!.... ‘Why not to do like this, father?- sure, of course’…. Today’s god is quite atheist like Buddha. And Today’s god has been controlled by man, just like Birth Control. When in need of God…god appears, and not need, god disappears! In what amount you need, God will appear in that amount. To write poetry, god appears as a rhyme, to pray and sing hymn, it appears as donation! Today’s man has already become God. The man has developed those all features that a god must have. But only one feature today’s man missed and that is human quality! That man who is and will be man until the death is a real man.
Mr. Byathit and Mr. Wangde! If you want the man who lost humane quality, but couldn’t become a god then come to me! You won’t find an inhumane man like me anywhere, and others can’t give their own introduction like me! What to do? Mr. Byathit…I didn’t call inhumane man myself in anger. I, look at me, Hindu, like all gods and also I like Christ and Buddha and Muhammad too. I like all the beliefs over gods and I also like the prejudices people do in the name of god. If these did not have happened- those crusades, those Tuglak Shah’s soldiers, those Shankaracharya’s attackers- if they all were not there then today, how could be Byathit Hindu, Wangdel Christian, or Shakars Muslims?, I might be the one who believe everything but trust nothing. How could have I enchanted, “Ohm Brahmasmi” if I would have believed others instead of me?
I am not a man of this age, Mr. Byathit! I am a man who will be born after one thousand years. In duration of my birth, there will be no border of nation, limitation of belief, restriction in religion, restraint on politics, there will be no limitation that time!!
Today, the land of 10 yard where I am standing- shall I tell you the reason why am I standing here? I don’t want to keep myself inside your boundary. I don’t want to dive in your colors. After I cross the boundary, I ought to take the citizenship- that’s why I uncitizen. I am a boundary myself, I have separated the present from past and past from future.
What is the color of my boundary, Mr. Wangdel? White? (as snow!); flowing? (as a river!) Red? (as in Geography) abstract? (as a summit of Mountain!). If you can, Mr. Wangdel, interpret these boundaries in your canvas, that very moment I can interpret my mind in abstract.
Unless you do it, and you complete it, I just want to be remained unexpressed. If today I display abstract then you have to go to breathe again in the air of Paris. To construe my abstract philosophy, you have to mug up ‘one day’.
For this reason, I smiled.
That’s why there is difference in my smile. One for ‘Byathit’, another for Wangdel, other for my son.
That’s the reason, I am living, because I exhibit me and others realist till today.
In realist interpretation, I am an onion- colorless, folded with leaves, incessant bitter smell and depth.
Today’s Lord Krishna’s incarnation is also an onion itself. That’s why, Mr. Wangdel, paint an onion’s still life. That’s why, Mr. Byathit, write an epic on onion. Your product will be immortal-because it will preserve today’s man and the bitter smell of the present society in its endless leaves and make it alive for endless ages. And I will be alive too for endless period of time in your painting and epic.
That picture and that poem, if you don’t write today then tomorrow, with the death of Himani, death of Wangdel, death of Shankar, history will be vanished in future.
….as if boundary vanishes after one thousand years.
(Original essay in Nepali by Shankar Lamichhane titled Abstract Chintan Pyaaz)
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