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Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra



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“What? SUICIDE?” Pankaj Dai screamed, all of a sudden left his tea on the table and launched into an investigation. 

I lowered the TV volume. An ABC's sport was heating up. Suneheri, the most popular Tea Shop at Pulchowk. We were watching highlights of the match between Nepal and Ireland. Nepal had won that match. Paras had hit a wonderful century and Ganendra had hit a half century. I guess it was the first time all Nepalese were proudly pronouncing both the names together after the tragic Royal massacre. 

“He is just a waste. I don't give a fuck about him.” Pankaj Dai uttered loud, disconnected the phone.                                “Hum?” Asked Praveen Dai. “What's the matter Pankaj?” He inquired, astonished.                                                             “That Goddamn loser is trying to piss me off.” He raised the pitch, kept his hands in his head and distressed himself. I was sitting clueless with the situation but I could smell something wrong with it. 

“You mean Sachin?” Brother asked. I was astound, could not move from the chair.                                                               “He is a coward. He was about to kill himself. He did not fail Karki, I failed.” Pankaj Dai faded with regret, dialed a number but nobody responded his call.                                                                                                                                         “Everybody is goddamn dead today.” Agitated, he threw his mobile on the floor. Suneheri clammed up. Nobody tried to barge the situation. 

That cocky arrogance by Pankaj Dai was hurting me. Nevertheless, I was sitting like a dumb criminal listening to his abusive audacity as if I myself had tried a suicide attempt. Praveen Dai picked up the mobile. I collected the screen cover and battery and fixed the phone.                                                                                                                                        “Cool down Pankaj.” Praveen Dai patted him softly with sympathy. “Everything will be fine.” He turned off the TV and moved close to Pankaj Dai. 

I was sitting silent and mournful, befuddled with an unexpectedly created scenario which had turned Suneheri to sarcastic. 

Moreover, on the same time Suman Dai; roommate of Pankaj Dai made his edgy entry with a thick jacket and the wet raincoat in his hand. It was raining in capital continuously since three days.                                                                         “Karki you might need this.” He took out an ATM card from his purse and handed the jacket and raincoat to Praveen Dai.                                                                                                                                                                                                         “Please take care of him Suman. Do not let him go anywhere.” Praveen Dai requested him. I could see a fear for me in his eyes.                                                                                                                                                                                             “Don't worry Dai. Your Brother is strong. I am perfectly fine.” I tried to comfort him. He just gave a painstaking smile, handed me a hundred bucks and hugged me tightly. 

Praveen Dai and Pankaj Dai hastily left the Suneheri. Suman Dai switched on the TV. The highlights of the match were still in progress. It was continuously raining outside. He raised the volume and ordered two cup of special Illam Tea. 

Now that win was not very interesting. Every noise that was entertaining the Suneheri was broiling me. I could not stay there, cleared the bill and moved out of tea shop.                                                                                                                 “Wait! I am coming too.” Suman Dai took out an umbrella from his side bag in one hand and followed me with the cup of tea in another hand. I did not bother to carry mine, tried to offend him but he was obliged.                                           “How could it rain like this? What a downpour, hm?” Suman Dai tried to offend the noise of the rain. Until that time, he had emptied the plastic cup. He threw the cup in the water running off the road. He was holding an umbrella and trying to shelter me from the rain. However, the rain was simply rude that day and we both were almost wet. The cup floated above the water and just like a small boat in the flooded Narayani, it speeded along the run off. 

I did not respond him. I even did not bother to think over his question. What was in my mind? Why I rushed out of Suneheri? I dumped my favorite Illam tea and ABC Sports had never been interesting. I was walking lonely along the runny street and with my every step trying to smack the flooded Narayani over the road of busy Pulchowk. I was clueless and like no brain man. 

Suman Dai got a phone call. I let him take an umbrella. He rested himself under the partly maintained old wooden roof of the Cyber Café by the street. Even so, I was following the plastic cup since it started struggling. It was rushing with the speed of overflow. By that time, I was completely wet. With every raindrop, the cup was getting heavier and heavier and I was getting half breathe. I balanced myself with the speed of the flow. That was like another ABC Sport I was watching and it was extra interesting this time. My player; poor plastic cup was struggling against the boorish rain. I thought it will get defeated and finally sink. But, I lost. It did not sink. The water masses mixed into a drainage channel and sadly, poor cup ended itself with the end of the game. 

I felt sorry for the cup. However, I could not help it. But I was very happy for its heroism. Until the last second it did not give up, it fought. My hero ended. The loads of confusion and disorder in my head died. I smiled, kicked the ground. Water masses splashed like if it was afraid of me. I laughed. Again, I kicked the ground, this time a bit harder. More water masses splashed.                                                                                                                                                               

“Wow! They are my doubt.” I hooted, again kicked the ground. “Pit, pat, pit.” Once, twice and I continued. I smashed the overflow with hand. It got troubled. I got my cheer back. I jumped, once, twice and I continued. I have questions now. Moreover, I have solutions too. 

I am not a loser like Sachin who chose an easy way to hide his tail. I am like that empty plastic cup, which will fight until the end. YES!!!! I will fight. I will not surrender my life to death. “SUICIDE??? No way…. I am 19, still single and Virgin.” I smiled for my life.

And in those few seconds my life flashed in front of me, I remembered my mom, my dad, and my lovely sisters. I remembered every person who glorified my life and took care of me. I remembered my golden time with Kalpabrichha and Scouts. I remembered all those colorful days, which encouraged me to dream for big. 

I can never thought of harming myself, forget suicide. I love my life. My life is not my own. I owe it to the people who brought me into this world, enriched my life just being there for me, trusted me and let me enjoy all sorts of freedom of life... 

I am with bundle of unfulfilled duties and responsibilities, piles of incomplete dreams and desires. Many things are left to see, remained to touch and a most thing to figure out “Better Nepal”. Indeed, I believe my country needs me most. Moreover, I have to live for my country, my society and my family. I must not die even by an accident and no chance for a suicide. 

By the time, Suman Dai found me. He was still with his umbrella but he was almost all wet.                                               “What is the matter Chota Karki?” He startlingly asked as I was still jumping in the rain.                                                       “Oh! Nothing Dai. I love this rain.” I replied with a smile. 

He was happy to see me smile but was confused with my unforeseen behaviour.                                                           “Are you sure?” He asked with a puzzled smile.                                                                                                                         “No doubt. Lock kardiya jaye.” I continued jumping. “Haha…. Let me also enjoy this rain.” 

He laughed, kept an umbrella aside and joined me smash that boorish rain. For a while we did not bother what happened with Sachin, what happened with me and what happened with the beautiful climate of the capital. But we enjoyed a lot. In addition, ABC comedy show started. 

Truth is always bitter. But it was not only Sachin who could not crack the name to top 500 students in IOE entrance exam. I too was in the list whose name was out of the list. Sachin failed for his second attempt. I failed in my first attempt. However we both were a failure. And my narrow society has its own weird definition of the failure. We are not counted for our effort. If you win, you are a winner, a real fighter and a champion. If you lose, you are a loser, a loser, and a loser. Yes! I failed. But that doesn't mean I can't bounce back.

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