I just stood silently staring towards the dark cloudy skies, oblivious to the rush of the cold wind that was hitting me harshly with all its might. I was shivering, and my teeth were clattering. But, I couldn’t care less. I kept watching the marvel of nature. The dazzling display of nature at play was truly overwhelming, and I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to miss a single moment.
In a blink of an eye, a bright streak of light fervently ran across the sky, which was accompanied by a huge burst of light that illuminating the whole universe. A brief hiatus followed, and then nature let out a thundering roar from the depths of its lungs, enough to tear apart the eardrums of the ears. And again, with another bright flash, a streak of white jagged line protruded out from another corner, that eventually branched off in different directions.
I may be regarded as eccentric to be marveling with such dangerous storms. Casualties are not uncommon during such storms. That night, the first night of the 5-day Strike throughout Nepal (which was later called off), was as if hell broke loose. Nothing could have been worse. The gusty wind was blowing off whatever came in its path, and the rain, in tune with the wind was pitilessly battering the poor pedestrians without much cover. And lo behold ! an erratic hailstorm joined in the fun, to spice up the evening show. Honestly, how can such a situation be awe-inspiring?
Maybe not, but for me, all that energy hurling down to earth at the speed of light, was truly fascinating. Throughout all these years of my existence on this earth, I had never really been so attracted to such forces of nature, as I was then. I was as if a small child that was staring at something completely way beyond his objects of daily perception. Though, Science has come to prove that its just due to the imbalance of electrical charges, I couldn’t be bothered with that fact at the moment. To me, the lightening were as if paintings on the huge dark canvas by mother nature. Like a frustrated artist, she quickly erased each time she had finished casting her brush on the canvas. Dissatisfied with each of her stroke, she kept painting and erasing it until she she could find one that correctly resonated her artistic spontaneity. But, of course, she never does. Her rage just continues.
Of course, my views of Mother Nature may meet with similar approval with others. The Greeks mythology speaks of mighty Zeus, who is known as the god of thunder and power. He was responsible for such bedazzlement for it is he who tossed away such thunders down to earth. Well, looking not too far from home, we have our own version of a similar God, who not only being the controller of storm and clouds, is also better known as the ruler of heaven. Indra, the King of lesser gods is responsible for bringing in those dark heavy rain-soaked clouds in the skies. But, I do not know whether the practices of throwing such thunders are much similar to that of Zeus. (Maybe, I should be watching religious tele-serials on a more regular basis, so as to ascertain it).
Regardless of mythologies that we have and believe in, all that I could believe at the moment of was the sheer power of nature. Nature is utterly unpredictable and untamable, and I believe that’s what she’s best at. With the advance of modern science, man is still matchless against nature. His numerous triumphs of replication and duplication are nothing to the her authenticity. He may be so close to the real thing, but I doubt if he ever will be the real thing. And all throughout that night, I couldn’t be bothered more.

Once again, the whole of Nepal came to a standstill. But, as time wears on, so do the effects of the putative ”Nepal Bandh”. I’m not sure about the activities in other parts of the country, but the streets of Kathmandu were certainly bustling up with more people than on previous occasions. I guess people are getting more adventurous, or is it just the weather, cause its at such times it’s best to bask out in the sun, and enjoy the weather. The streets were tempting too. Except for the occasional speeding ambulances, and every imaginable “PRESS” designated motorcycles, the usual polluting traffic of ear-piercing honkers were nowhere to be seen or heard. Who could resist such a rare opportunity! However not all share similar enthusiasm as mine. These three days have extended the spirit of the Tihar (without the lights), and it has proved invaluable for those hardcore gamblers to rake in more profits. It must have come as a complete bliss for them.
It is true that these three days have not been fruitful to any of us. So, the least you can do is to make the best of the situation, and strangely, people have done so. There were vehicles covering their license plates with white paper, some with plastics, but most had “PRESS” on them. I wonder about the legitimacy of such acts. If such brandishing dismisses any dangers from potential attacks, then maybe we should all fashion a sticker with “PRESS” on our behind on such occasions, just to safeguard our interests. Or is it due to the fact that with less traffic on the road, and the probability of accidents will be minimum. But, matters are gravely worsened. Single lanes, become multi-laned, and one ways are whatever-way. And it would just as dangerous as it would be humiliating to be struck by a vehicle on “Nepal Bandh”.
I may be musing about the traffic, but truthfully, these three days have not gone with an element of surprise to muse or to be delighted with. On the first day people were speculating about a huge attack in the city. But as night fell, and as just as the danger was just slipping away, a nationwide blackout occurred. People were fearing for the worst, while I was fisting my anger on the keyboard. I was in the midst of striking up a nice cyber-friendship when all of a sudden the whole world turned pitch black. But the news next day ruled out a sabotage and the electricity authority confirmed the power failure, but without a reason. I wondered if the reservoirs were low in water. But, hail ho! On the second night, the clouds began brewing silently, and before you know it, it was raining. I guess, seeing the previous night blackout, Mother Nature let her sprinklers on throughout the night. And it was good thing that she did, for if she had known the reason beforehand, she could have hailed something else rather than rain over the recklessness of the authority.
The last day of “Nepal Bandh” was the best. I believe that the agitators were taken aback by the change in weather, when they were expecting a gloomy day. Standing like a fortified fortress, an army of Himalaya was gleaming with glee in the north. And the surrounding hills in the valley were showing off its coat of lush green foliage. It was Kathmandu at its best. So graceful, so peaceful, so overwhelming, and yet so fragile. A perfect panorama of pristine beauty for which I had yearned for years. At that moment, I knew what the late Bhanubhakta had seen and felt when he sat down to write that “Alkapuri Kantipuri Nagari”. How true his words were, how true they are, and I hope they shall remain to be, forever.