The blue October sky rolled down successively?into the white Himalayas?the indigo mountains?the triangular pagoda roofs and into the flat of the school-yard under Surya?s feet. Or it rolled back up to the sky, if you really looked at it that way because this was a valley, the Kathmandu Bowl, surrounded by tall mountains topped with white canine Himalayas? so really, for every roll down from the sky another went right back up. When perceptions of polarity obliterated this way, it was as if orientation also paroled Surya, and in that buoyancy he felt the onrush of the sky rolling into the ground or the blue cascading around him as he stared into the limpid sky. Sometimes he even woke up befuddled from crystalline clear dreams wondering whether he was still sleeping somewhere far away and in that life dreaming this life. It was almost like watching a movie, carrying oneself with those avalanches of feelings, yet Surya stood on the ground only watching himself in the vignettes of his mind.

But, here too was Saka, in his gray school pants he had outgrown, sky blue shirt, hair slick with pungent mustard oil, explaining undaunted ?you see?it is made out of a long sheet of cardboard.? Next to him Bajra, uniformed like them, stood in dignity hands folded, nodding in agreement. Saka produced an upturned palm??that?s the flat surface where the chakka rests. ? His other hand rode up at an angle to the upturned palm, ?see?bends up like this.? The rising hand fell, ?so this part that drops has a needle here, fit that needle into a grove on the chakka, spin the chakka and?that?s how you do it.? ?Looks like this? Like this?? repeating the triangular schematic of the device in the air with his hands.

This happened a long time ago?before Surya walked along snaky alleys of Thamel, thumped on by the beats and barks of Ice T, the rhymes hooking him from one store to another, in search of ?you know the tapes, with lots of cursing!? he asked every shopkeeper. He walked back home with a ghetto tale inside a shiny Bangkok-bootlegged album of the Ghetto Boys. By then the music had become an obsession and boys coveted glossy magazines from the West, a rare find in Kathmandu. They read every scrappy magazine they could lay their hands on circling every place they saw their favorite bands mentioned. Murdoch was slogging across the Atlantic round the Cape of Good Hope; he?d eventually bring them MTV but that Christmas was still too far away
This was long before that, though in years it was the early eighties, when people referred to all the tunes with English lyrics as disco in the mystic din that is Kathmandu. Stereos were still novelties, more a sweet coincidence, like that of moisture, dirt and a wind dispersed seed ?a bloom on the belly of an impossible cliff. But even in villages, where the yards were rubbed with cow dung-gobar and the villagers spent the day harvesting golden paddy with a sickle and carried it home on their backs, you could hear disco. After wedding feasts which they all ate in leaf plates, seating in a big circle in the front yard, someone cranked up Boney M? much like their city folks who borrowed amplifiers and loudspeaker to crank up disco in weddings. It was irresistible? if you could hold your own and dance while the synthesized beats tweaked your nerves and juggled the recesses of your mind, it did not matter that you did not understand the song. It didn?t matter that the Brahmin, who had just finished reciting ceremonial Sanskrit hymns, was looking at you askew. You felt that you belonged to something edgy and the looks on the faces of those attempting to catch on prodded you, making you wonder whether you were already as sophisticated as the city folks. So they said let us danas to the music in their village accent, and the tunes went? Brown Girl in the Ring Shalalala la, Brown Girl in the Ring Sha la la la la la

shameless promotion redux

let me know if you'd like to see the rest of this long story, it gets better

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Svengali - It indeed got better and transparent. Needless to say that I enjoyed going through as much as you did weaving them.

Very nice!

Hey thanks Flipflop. Although it seems the response otherwise is tepid. Anyway, you must have seen the continuation of the story in the "Blog" section. Believe it or not, I think the whole thing is still 2/3 or more to go. Debating whether I should continue posting the remainder.

Anyway, muchos gracias ma'am

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svengali - Yes your name caught my attention in the blog section eariler today and you should continue.

In anticipation!

yawnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!

i yawn when stories don't have conversations :P...but that's my personal view...:D

flipflop, if so then do stay tuned, more ktm vistas and vignettes coming soon

Loote, kind of like bow wow wow yippe yay yippe yay perks up your attention?

Yeah, quality threads always make some people yawn.

Thanks for sharing. Post the whole story please.

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Loote Doggy - A word of wisdom - "Never to lose your modesty"!

LOL!
yah i like it better when characters speak through writers not when writers speak on behalf of them :P

woof woof! ;D

Loots honey,
What is wrong with you? I guess you need one another dose of distemper.:D
Svengali, what does it mean? The name sounds quite fascinating to me.

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You don't want people to imply your personal view on people, do you? If you did not find it interesting then why bother making comment. "Na jaaney gauko bato nasodhnu" 0 get that in your head!

svengali - Apology! I would be waiting for more and please let the dog bark!

flips,
i said that's my personal view....i won't be surprised if many people don't agree with me. in fact i am not surprised that you disagree. but i am surprised to see you commenting on behalf of svengali. :D

i do appreciate the otherwise meticulously woven craft of svengali.

When Svengali looked at you, you are completely in his power. They said he was a great hypnotist who lived in fiction. Kind of cut from the same ilk as Raspu,tin, but then Raspu,tin was real, while both of them malevolent.

The current avatar has no such intention I assure you.

The nose, oh my what a nose! my kingdom for a nose! Not quite Anthony and Cleopatra,
but my favorite rendition till this day, can you venture a guess where that line is from?

Thanks for the endorsement. I will post further section of the story in the eve

Flipflop, I appreciate the gesture, but no apologies!

Lootekukur cannot help it, he's dopey, sniffs and involuntarily the hind legs raise hehe
but Loote, critique and approval duly noted, alphadog

Parts IV, V and VI are up

Thanks for reading,and feel free to leave comments

The last 1/3 remains will post that later,

Hey Svengali -

I read the piece above and one of the ones in the blog section. I will read the rest when I can. I liked your commentary and your narrative style. Good stuff :)

Talking about Boney M, Svenlali, Raspootin and hypnotisms, if I may, here is a spooky Ukranian video based on Boney M's Raspootin and with an overlay of the X Files theme (try beating that for spookiness )




Enjoy!

Ahoy! cap'n, how could I have forgotten Raspu,tin of BoneyM, must be the subliminal, free associations that bring together coincidences like this.

Thanks for trudging through the soliloquy, well almost!

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svengali - What a vivid and lucid portrayal of the valley, which I have almost forgotten! I could literally hear those morning bell-ringings of temples, could witnessed going through hassles to get packets of milk, reminiscence of collecting ten soap wrappers to get a free soap, hustle and bustle of vegetable market - so transparent!

Very well descibed and lemme tell you one do not need to include 'dialogues' to make a story good if you are Aesop! :-) Also, thank you for keeping up your word, much appreciated!

Flipflop,
Aesop, I am not but thanks for the compliment, senorita

I added the remaining installments, enjoy!