1 year ago
Pratik is a high school graduate from Trinity International College, Dilli Bazaar, Kathmandu.
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1 year ago
1 year ago
Dusk was falling as Manjima ambled briskly out of the F&F bank into the warm cobbled pavement. She threaded through the bulk of people with an air of calm superiority. Her lips were tight, her jaw was firmly set, cheekbones high and pink, and her eyes had that look of steely determination that gave the bravest of men that met with it a sinking feeling. Occasionally her eyes would soften and the tenderness of the soul would bubble over the edges. She simply glowed with majestic splendor, as the darkness deepened. Heads turned and jaws dropped at the sight of her. Draped in that black leather jacket she looked breathtakingly beautiful. She ran her hand through her hair and shook her head. The waves of hair undulated down her shoulders and curled around her arms. Men froze on their feet, their eyes widened and heart hammered like a drum.
There was something about the gorgeous lady that arrested attention of the general audience. Men leaned from balcony to cast their eyes upon her. Windows flung open and heads craned out. Cars slowed and windows rolled down then, gazed at her in silent admiration, trembling with bliss. Women dropped their gaze with a growing feeling of inferiority. Men worshipped her with purest devotion. Women felt small and insignificant in front of her. Men felt their cheeks going hot and mist cloaking their spectacles. A man, who was elbowing his way through the crowd, fell limply into the floor as his eyes met hers. Another man slipped from the balcony into the garden below, crashing upon the flowers with a dull thud. A car slid into the wrong lane. A motorbike collided headfirst into a wall. Such was the effect Manjima had on the opposite sex. Heaviness of the chest, trembling of the lips and weakening of the knees were to be expected on people overpowered by her gentle beauty. Even the sun that was dipping behind the hills, tilted its neck and peeped through the crevices of the hills at the lovely woman. Upon seeing her, its face went deep purple, it concealed a shudder, and continued dipping into the well of nothingness.
The overpowering beams of her beauty strained men’s nerves and made them terribly restless. The oppressive stillness of Kathmandu made the unrest unbearable. At once a hundred men wanted to shout out their affection for her. But breathe stuck on their throats, their lips stiffened and words were wiped out of their lips. In a nutshell, courage failed them. They simply felt unworthy of her.
Slowly, the darkness began to swallow the buildings at a gathering speed. The windows slammed shut and drapes rolled down. Manjima slipped into her car and wheezed away to her home. The golden glow of the streetlight showered the road in heartening warmth. The road was smooth and car flowed noiselessly in it. Suddenly, the road was clogged in traffic jam. She delicately rested her elbow on the window sill and tapped the steering wheel impatiently with her fingers. There was the sound of a loud rumble followed by crunching of metal. She leaned out of the window and saw men trampling through cars stretching her arms towards her. "Manjima, I love you", a boisterous roar, echoed through the silent night. She clenched her jaw and eyed them sternly. They retreated their steps and fled back. The cars began to start again and the jam was suddenly over. The engine hummed once again and Manjima cruised through the midnight road, whistling casually.