In the bustling city of Kathmandu, which stands in the shadow of the majestic Himalayas, with its narrow lanes and ancient temples, there lives a young woman called Aarohi. Her spirit is as vibrant as the prayer flags fluttering in the wind on top of the hills. Her laughter is a melodious symphony that often cuts across Kathmandu's noisy and busy streets. The only thing she loved was to write stories that captured Nepal's true essence.
The smell of incense, among other elements used in these stories, makes them function like bridges between two worlds, helping people to remember their past lives.
Nevertheless, Aarohi hardly laughed anymore; no stories came from her mouth, and one would say that something had locked up her spirit.
At one time, her apartment was full of the aroma of traditional sarangi music, and some incense burned inside it. Nevertheless, today, nothing is left apart from the darkness and light emitted by her laptop. The friends became invisible pixels, while conversations turned into mere meaningless words.
Her friend Suman had noticed the change in Aarohi's demeanour. Known for his playful banter and unyielding optimism, he decided it was time for an intervention. He concocted a plan requiring all his charm and a touch of the absurdity that Aarohi had always enjoyed. It was a sunny afternoon when he arrived at her doorstep, ready to put his plan into motion.
Suman's intervention was not just a plan but a beacon of hope and a testament to the transformative power of friendship and creativity, inspiring the audience with its potential.
Suman dropped by unannounced. He knocked on her door to the rhythm of a popular Nepali folk song. Aarohi, startled out of her digital trance, answered the door with a sheepish smile.
With his characteristic humour, Suman teased her, “Aarohi, if you were any more plugged in, you'd be a living and breathing power bank!”
Aarohi chuckled, but her laughter didn't quite reach her eyes. “I'm just catching up on some stuff,” she lied as she closed numerous tabs on her screen.
Suman, never one to tread lightly, retorted, “Catching up? The only thing you're catching is digital insomnia. When was the last time you wrote something? Your blog's collecting more dust than the attic at the Hanuman Dhoka.”
The words stung more than Aarohi cared to admit. She plopped down on her bed, surrounded by crumpled pages filled with half-formed ideas and crossed-out lines. “I don't know, Suman. Every time I start, I just... I can't.”
Suman took a seat beside her, his tone softening. “You know, for someone who talks to her screen more than people, your laptop's not giving you much conversation back, is it?”
The absurdity of her situation became painfully clear. Aarohi sighed. “Whenever I watch another video or see someone's perfect post, my words seem pointless. Who'd want to read my stories when they can watch the world in HD?”
The irony was thick in the air, a stark reminder of the natural world's richness and the superficiality of the digital realm.
The pair sat silently, the buzz of Aarohi's phone notifications filling the void. Finally, Suman stood up, his eyes brimming with mischief. “Alright, here's what we're going to do.”
Aarohi watched, puzzled, as Suman opened her window, letting the sounds of the city flood in. “We're going to make a deal. You'll write about the first thing you see outside this window, and I'll…”
“You'll what?” Aarohi was curious.
“I'll dance to a full song in the middle of Asan Market wearing a Bhairab mask!” Suman declared, striking a dramatic pose.
Laughter bubbled up from Aarohi's belly, a sound she hadn't heard from herself in a long time. "You're on!"
She peered outside, her gaze landing on a peculiar sight—a monkey perched on a power line, seemingly watching a group of tourists navigate the crowded street below with comical confusion.
Aarohi grabbed her pen and notebook, the image of the monkey on the power line igniting a spark within her. She began to scribble furiously, her words painting a tale of the monkey as the city's unspoken tour guide, offering absurd but insightful commentary on the human condition. The monkey, a symbol of the city's untamed spirit, became the protagonist of her story, guiding her narrative with his mischievous antics.
Suman peeked over her shoulder, reading her lines and nodding in approval. “Yes! That's the Aarohi I remember. Keep going!”
Emboldened, Aarohi wove humour and absurdity into her story. The monkey offered philosophical musings on the tourists' relentless quest for Wi-Fi signals, likening them to sacred pilgrimages of old.
Her pen could barely keep up with the story's rapid unfolding—the monkey's decision to launch his own YouTube channel, his meteoric rise to fame, and his eventual realisation that he yearned for the simplicity of life as a monkey in Kathmandu. Aarohi's creative process had undergone a metamorphosis, her words flowing effortlessly as she painted the monkey's journey.
As Aarohi wrote the final words, she felt a lightness she hadn't felt in months. She looked up with Suman, her face alight with triumph. “Done!” At that moment, she was not just a storyteller but a conqueror of her doubts and fears.
True to his word, Suman groaned but accepted his fate with an exaggerated bow. “I suppose I have a date with destiny... and a mask.”
The next day, amidst the chaos of Asan Market, Suman danced with abandon, his Bhairab mask drawing a curious crowd. Aarohi watched a mix of horror and delight on her face as she recorded the spectacle.
Her video, ‘The Day Bhairab Danced in Asan’, went viral. People couldn't get enough of the humorous and heartwarming sight, and Aarohi's storytelling took on a new form. Her words, once confined to the digital realm, now had the power to bring people together, to make them laugh and think, and to remind them of the beauty and absurdity of life in Kathmandu.
The video of Suman's Bhairab dance became a local legend. It was a tale retold with laughter in the tea shops and shared worldwide through the screens that once held Aarohi captive. She had found a way to marry her love for storytelling with the undeniable reach of the digital world, all thanks to Suman's intervention.
Her blog was revived, and she is now hosting a series of ‘Only in Kathmandu’ stories that celebrate the quirks of her city, receiving comments from every corner of the globe. Suman's playful banter and unyielding optimism have brought Aarohi back to life and sparked a new chapter in her storytelling journey.
Aarohi and Suman became an unlikely creative duo. Their work sparked a movement that reminded everyone to look beyond their screens and appreciate the world around them, to find stories in the streets they walked and the faces they passed.
Aarohi's room now lay open to the world, her window a portal to inspiration rather than an escape. And every now and then, when Suman felt the itch for another bout of absurdity, Aarohi would be there, pen in hand, ready to capture the magic of the unplanned and the beauty of the real.
Together, they showed the world that sometimes, to find what truly connects us, we must disconnect, step out, and dance with the Bhairabs that walk among us. As for Aarohi, she never forgot her lesson—that even in a digitised world, the human story is the most powerful connection.
Nepal's leading daily newspaper
https://kathmandupost.com/fiction-park/2024/06/02/the-day-bhairab-danced-in-asan
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