"Bandhu!" Manoj was knocking loudly on my room door "Uthnus na, chhito uthnus ta please"

"What time is it, man?" I yelled wishing he would go back to sleep. I had a headache from the party last night - boy, what a party it was. Manoj was snoring when I came home so he would be clueless as to what I had been up to and how hung over I might be.

"8' o clock" he said "Farmers market jane hoina? " he continued. Manoj was one of my flat-mates in a four bedroom apartment that he and I shared with two other guys. Originally from Lamjung, he had done his high school in Pokhara and had a Bachelors degree from Tri Chandra college. He completed a second bachelors in Computer Science and a Masters degree in Philosophy from a small town in the Bible belt. He was also a poet. He wrote poems for every occasion - birthday parties, funerals, graduation parties and even dance parties. He rarely addressed his roommates by their first names, and much to the discomfort of everyone around him, he always addresed us as "tapai" and often suffixed our names with "Bandhu" and "Mitra".

"La la, ma aye. 15 minutes, ok ?" I bargained for time. There are few things I value as much as precious morning sleep and I dreaded the thought of having to walk with Manoj through hoards of shoppers and rude farmers alongside rows of fruits and vegetables. He always gleefully compared the prices to the local grocery store and enthusiastically proclaimed how much cheaper they were here. He did this every-time he went to the farmers market which, in his case, was anytime he could find a ride to the market square.

"Mickey Bandhu" I heard him knock on the door of the other flat-mate " Tapailai ko keti ko phone achha" he teased. Mickey was a party animal and a self-proclaimed womanizer who worked at a management consulting firm. He was an easy going lad from Kupandole whose top-most priorities were partying and getting laid when not working his rear end off at his job. He and I shared a lot in common but we had one big difference : I , in spite of all my flaws, could only see one woman at a time. As for Mickey, his legendary mojo made it hard for him to stay focused on any one thing, be it jobs or women, for long. If flirting, seducing and philandering were art, he was Picasso, Mozart and Homer all in one. We never quite figured how he got away with it time after time.

"Bihana bihana jaad kha ho kabi-jee?" he teased back. Mickey was always in a good mood. " Go back to sleep" he shouted.

Disappointed, Manoj went to knock on the only other bedroom door left. He was always much more formal with Prashant than with Mickey and me.

"Prashant jee, chiya khane ho?" he tried bribery this time, perhaps realizing moral persuasion no longer worked in the house. Prashant was a graduate student of physics. He was a brilliant student and recipient of several scholarships and awards. He was a man of few words and when those words did come, they were delivered softly and calmly. Originally from Ikhalakhu, Patan he was admitted to a prestigious university in the East coast on a full scholarship.

"Hetta, khanna bhankeo. Yo manchhe le kasto disturb gareko yar " Prashant grumbled and turned in his bed.

Never in our 12 months of living together, had we gone anywhere at 8 on a Saturday morning. Mickey and I didn't even wake up till noon on Saturdays. Prashant hated anything to do with shopping and would avoid grocery shopping whenever he could. Manoj's weird love for grocery shopping, his peculiar knack for poetry, and his not-so-sophisticated etiquette often got on our nerves.

Manoj finally gave up on his roommates and went into the kitchen, set the kettle on the stove for some tea and started whistling a tune from a Nepali movie. Today was his last day in the US. He was catching the 11:30 AM Virgin Atlantic flight to London and onwards to Kathmandu. He was going back to Nepal after six years in the US. The job market was in the doldrums and he had decided to try his luck back home after his optional practical training, and thus his student visa, had expired. He had hoped to take some pictures at the farmers market and downtown - two of his favorite places in the city - to show friends and family back home. With shopping and the packing taking up most of his time, he hadn't been able to take any pictures of the city. Never mind, he thought.

The kettle started whistling and he headed to the fridge to grab some milk when he saw three half-awake faces making their way to the kitchen table.

"Malai pani chiya hai " they said almost in unison.

"Let's go grocery shopping" Prashant broke the silence that followed.

"And I need to go to downtown too" Mickey quickly said.

"I'll take my camera as well" I said.

Gazer jyu,
Farmers' market - one of my favourite places to hang out. Love the smell of those fresh organic produces.
I am delighted to go through another brilliant presentation of yours. Kudos to you and your friendship.

The ending was very touching :)

A touching story indeed. Real good flow of words.. loved your narration:)

Sajha gazer, what a lovely way to start the day...

Thanks for sharing, keep 'em coming

Good Morning ya'll !

Good work again! Enjoyed reading it.

OMG Sajha Gazer with ur nowhere and all you are very good!

Sajha Gazer, nice story with a very touching end.

Nice narration!
....but I thought the ending was little weird.

Dear SG:

A POET, A PLAYBOY, A PHYSICIST AND A PHILOSOPHER......!!!!

Great ,great, great craftmanship rather penmanship of yours SG. I wonder if you convinced the physicist and the playboy for gruesome (awesome rather) half-awake faces on that table.

Salaam to Manoj....

HD

Vantage Point, DC Girl, Rythm, Guzmoon, Hunk_in_Grave, wateva, Chipledhunga : Thanks for reading and leaving behind comments.

Guest 4 : He he .. there wasn't much to the end of the story anyways to write about but I appreciate the feedback.

Humdrum : Who me, a philosopher? He he he .... Oh come on! :) I am flattered by the comment though ;) BTW, both were there on their own initiative - I had no part in the conspiracy I assure you.

Great writing as usual finest of narrations....

My heart bleeds for manoj.....I would be in the same boat soon.

Sajha Gazer, I almost missed this one. I absolutely enjoyed your prose. I look forward to more of your writing. Keep em' coming.

-IndisGuise:)

moi god!
sajha gazer; u n ur friend manoj should meet my fren !he calls us with these names----> "bandu" "rupa[roommate]"mitra!" bini je,sony jee etc etc [not meh!hehe himmat!]
evertime ,when we visit his room for some work or just to hang out ---->he always plays song number 92['sasoo ki mala pe simmru mei teraa naam] [claps his both hands while listening to that song! ]trust me!everyyyyyytime!:D
we enjoy when he does /say that!friends call him bandu and i call him bhoondhu!:D[he is reserved but very good friend!]

reminded meh of some incidents in our class!:)

once again
*thumbs up!*

ruIna

interesting story!!:)

What else does it remind you meri jane tamanna? :D I am kind of having trouble with my heart, really. Can you do some magic? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeech :(

;)

my gosh!! who is here!!!:)
baba is here?! howdy?!


ur heart story reminded me of insulin shot[our conversation long ago!]:D if i ever became cardiologist!u will be my first patient,if u allow meh:) arrgh i can't diagnose ryt now!:)

have to run now!
ruIna

p.s good to see u posting!:D

:)

I rem. that. Can't diagnosis now bhanera, mutu chiya chiya pardeu;) I know you would be one, but even if you choose other forte, you have my absolute consent to rip open my tender heart. :p

Marna to sabhi ko hein ekdin,
Teri bahon mein hi mar jaye
To kaun kabakth jina ki ghustaki kare?

Aach! Re kya. ;)

Tata! Runnnnnnnnnnnnn ruina rani runnnnnnnnnn hehe :)

IndisGuise:)

Run lola run...:)

RUNNNNNNNN