Incomplete Sketch That Led To A Political Journey-2

Baidar ba sat in the Pradhan's chair, Phanindra uncle in another, and the seniors sat on an extended bench. We sat on the lawn like other citizens, faces pushed close. The yearly income and spending report was being read. Three young males emerged in the audience. Everyone started talking. All three wanted to speak at the assembly. No one in the village had the guts to speak in front of the educated, well-spoken, and well-dressed young men.

After Baidar ba asked for an introduction, the fair, slim, and handsome young guy among the three said, "My name is Pitamber Dahal." I am the son of Pandit Bhanubhakta Dahal, and I am currently studying in Kathmandu.

Another said: My name is Guru Prasad Pokharel, I'm from Prapcha, and I am studying in Kathmandu. The most articulate one said: My name is Min Kumar Dahal, and I'm from Prapcha. I'm now studying in Kathmandu. When Chandrakant Dahal attended a gathering a while back, we saw a new political figure. Then we heard a highly literary and sophisticated speech from Ghatraj Bhattarai of Serna, who had come to Bigutar. At the moment, Bhattarai stated, "We have come to your beautiful village Bigutar, crossing the rivers and streams." This statement inspired me to dream of expressiveness. Although Chandrakant was from neighboring Lamidanda, there were speculations that he was a Congressman.

Today, however, is a different story. As we looked around, we saw that the three young men's personalities had a big impact on the crowd. In a sense, they became role models for us young kids. I couldn't stop thinking about how I could be like them. There was genuine opposition to the independent panchayat in the speeches given by Guru Prasad and Min Kumar. There was silence among the panchayats. We were against the panchayat because we had no idea what it was. Pitambar's turn came. He talked about BP's jail and democracy. He then brought up issues of income and expenses. Baidar ba was unable to respond to his inquiries. A few rupees' account was inaccurate. Due to a disagreement over that matter, Baidar ba resigned from his position as Pradhan Panchayat. We were taken aback. What authority could compel the Pradhan to step down? The congressmen insulted us when they entered Bigutar, but nobody dared to speak, the panchayats said.

I think of another incident. Guru ba used to teach us both during the day and at night when we went to the language school. That day, we were coming from school through Chaprali ba's house. At Chambate Bari's entrance, there was a meeting. The moneylender uncles were among the other influential people present. Some land, arable land, or bribes were the subject of a contentious dispute. As he rolled up his shirt sleeves, Surendra Dahal, was reprimanding the elders in a loud voice. We had heard that this brother, who was fair, short, and dressed in white slippers, white pants, and a white turban, was a college student and an armyman.

He had not even been visible to us. Surendra brother, Cholaraj brother, Dhundiraj, and Kalanidhi were all regarded as avid readers in my grandfather's household. We had Kalanidhi with us. Khilanath Pandit, my older brother, would recite Puranas and other spiritual texts. Surendra brother was new to me. He must have been on a job a long time ago. Sweat was dripping from the elders' cheeks after his speech, and the sight of him bowing down unable to answer anything was very exciting. I believed that I could make the elders laugh like Surendra brother if I could read. My political beliefs are based on all of these incidents. I wasn't politically conscious at the time.

Life took on a new dimension after I arrived in Kathmandu. I become enmeshed in politics at a time when I was climbing the adolescent ladder, when poverty and deprivation are at their worst, and when I have been through a rough four years of routine that has been overtaken by my intense desire to advance in my studies and earn a degree that will get me a job. I am unsure of the reason, whether it is hatred for the then-dominant character or the abstract yearning for equality or freedom. But since I was a young child, I have dreamed of change, and as of right now, my dream has not come true.

I spent roughly three years living with the communists. Due to poverty, approximately 90% of the Brahmin sons who attend Ranipokhari Sanskrit Secondary School were Dalits. Dalit does not only refer to caste; it also includes people who have been deceived by geography, poverty, and numerous severe forms of psychological torture. All of the impoverished kids and teens were drawn to the Sanskrit Hostel and Ranipokhari Sanskrit Secondary School because of the free education, free meals from class nine to the Acharya level, and free dhoti, kameez, and sarong clothing every six months. This was our generation's predicament; I'm not sure how the older students were.

We began studying communist literature with sixth-grade students from low-income families who came from the mountains and occasionally had to work in someone's kitchen or live on the side of the road. For just two or three paisa, we could purchase Mao Zedong's Red Books from the China magazine that was available at Niranjan Govinda Baidya's store in Bhotahiti. The plump red cheeks of attractive women were another draw of the China magazine. vibrant images of lovely apple seeds. and the advancements brought about by Mao's theories and China. The poor's messianic ideas.

The class consisted of roughly sixty-five of us. Few of them lived in rented rooms, ate, and brought their own food. About fifty of us were studying while working in other people's kitchens. A few of the girls were Newar, while others were daughters of Brahmins from Bhaktapur and Kathmandu. They used to flee their house. Without realizing it, we grew attached to communist ideologies. By writing their names on a piece of paper, we converted roughly sixty of the sixty-five students in the class to communism. The Nepal Students' Union was unknown to us. Rumor had it that many had been imprisoned and that the Nepal Students' Union had been formed.

The year I visited Kathmandu, Baisakh 6, saw the formation of the Nepal Students' Union. In Ranipokhari, the Nepal Students' Union was close to about 90% of the students who lived in the Sanskrit hostel. My cousin brother Dhundiraj was among the upper-class students who continued to be a member of the Nepal Students' Union, but we were communists. Communists made up the majority of the employers where we studied and worked. They also began to continuously educate us.

The Jhapa scandal took place in 2027/028. In Kathmandu, too, were the members of that scandal's underground. They began teaching as well. Their names were unknown to us. During our leisure time, we used to organize debate, poetry, and oratory contests in the classroom and award prizes with red books from Niranjan Govinda's store. The ideas of Marx, Lenin, Stalin, Mao reached every home at that time, while those who adopted the names of Congress and BP were imprisoned. Shops sold them. Although communist literature was freely sold and distributed, Pushpalal, the movement's founder, was also prohibited from participating in the Nepali government's thought processes, much like BP.

I recall a humorous incident where a slender, well-groomed, man in shorts entered our room in Kamalpokhari. His brother Taramani Dahal was one of the fourteen or fifteen people in the kitchen mess where I cooked. I had a bed on the floor. A thick bed with ropes outside and straw inside. The wall above my head already had a huge picture of King Tribhuvan.

"Is this where you sleep?" he asked me as soon as he walked through the door. Yes, I replied. "What is your name?" he inquired. "Purushottam Dahal," I said. “Why would you put a photo of the king on your headboard?" he exclaimed as he pulled out the picture and ripped it. Actually, I didn't care about the picture, despite the fact that I'm a communist. Prof. Vallabhmani Dahal was the sir of all communist factory owners and a former communist scholar. By chance, he went on to become the influential member-secretary of the Panchayat Policy and Inquiry Committee, which is the Panchayat's governing body.

It became more difficult after the 2028 Jhapa incident. In the Samavadi, we had also established a small committee, but it was unofficial. Which party we would be close to was unknown to us. Despite being communists, we were unaware of the existence of a communist party. Students from higher social classes began to accuse us of being communists over time. We friends started to get involved in our own ways. Mukunda Nepal and Ram Prasad Sedhai, two of our friends, were unable to join the group. In the class were a few girls and Manikarnika Pokharel. Such things did not interest them.

We began to receive visits from communist leaders who were studying at Valmiki. We weren't particularly close. Classes were occasionally held at Dhobidhara, Bagbazar, and Dillibazaar at night. In secret, they studied. They went to study during the day, worked in the morning and evening, and began reading some communist concepts at night. Numerous communist leaders discussed the proletariat, the working class, and the victims who were exploited. They discussed their freedom. Among the many subjects were corporatist capitalism, Indian expansionism, American imperialism, and the Vietnam War liberation movement. From Fidel Castro to Che Guevara, there were tales of valor. They spoke against Soviet reformism and praised Lenin, Stalin, and the October Revolution. They discussed Kanu Santhyal and Charu Majumdar. Lu Xun's stories were recited. The People used to sing, ‘Get up from the village, get up from the slums’.

In actuality, though, the majority of the communist leaders who instructed us were the type of people who drank drugs and alcohol, refused to eat chicken, smoked cigarettes, wore well-tailored and ironed clothes, walked with their hair pulled back, and had to go to the theater whenever a new film came out.

People who lived in the city and put in a lot of effort to teach us about the Vietnamese independence movement, American imperialism, Indian expansionism, British capitalism, and the Nepali BP and Congress were different from those who suffered in prison and those who lived in the mountainous areas. Regarding the communist movement in Nepal, they remained silent. All they taught was anti-BP and anti-Congress. The first ever book I read was on the Vietnamese independence movement against American intervention. I couldn't stop crying as I read the piece. I would be very sentimental.