Page 27 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“What are you gonna do? Huh?” His eyes sparkled with pride as he punched the air. “Come on, you
coward.”
“Drat!” I shoved him into the wall, scrambled on his top, and slapped across his face. “You
hippopotamus!”
Somebody from behind pulled me away.
He ran into me and bounced off. “Mama! Mama!” He stomped down the stairs and returned with his
mother.
His mother tongue-lashed me in an African accented English. “What the hell did you do to my son?”
she blurted. “You are a rogue. You are… blah… blah… blah…”
I shot her a lackadaisical sneer and walked away.
Mr. L.B. Basnet came in the third period. He had a nasty method of dealing with reprehensible
students. He plucked our hair if the answers were wrong. “Junisa and Dorji, come here.”
We stood in the front, facing others. Some giggled, and some showed terrified expressions.
“What is your problem, Junisa?” said Mr. L.B. Basnet.
Junisa Kawa sniffled. “Sir, he… blah… blah… blah....”
Mr. L.B. Basnet picked the cane and straightened it. “Dorji, why get into this trouble?”
Explanation or silence, I would have it. So, I lowered my eyes.
“Bend down, both of you.” He whipped on our arse twice, in all fairness.
I sneered at Junisa as he sniffled in pain.
Soon his father completed his tenure. Before Junisa Kawa left for his country, he hugged us. He
embraced me for a moment and said, “Well, Dorji, I am sorry for messing around with you. Goodbye.”
“I am sorry, too,” I said, embracing him harder. “Forgive me, please.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Bye.”
“No hard feelings?” I said.
He hitched his backpack on his shoulder and traipsed out of the class. “Yeah, no hard feelings.”
He looked adorable as he waved at us with a smile.

***

I enjoyed riding the bicycle, but I didn’t have one. So, I would watch my friends enjoy the ride. Tsiku, a
lean guy, fingers full of scabies, also enjoyed riding bicycles. Singing was his passion. He would sing into a
cone-shaped loudspeaker he had made from his exercise book.
“Hey, Dorji,” he said, one day. “Let’s go bicycling.”
“You know I don’t have a bicycle,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I will get one for you from my friend.”
“Oh, really?” I said. “What about you?”
“I will ride my brother’s bicycle.”
I beamed. “You sure you can arrange a bicycle for me?”
“I have talked to Motay,” he said. “He said he would lend me his bicycle.”
“Oh, really?” I said. “How kind of him. Go get it. I can’t wait to ride.”
He returned after half an hour with a red Avon bicycle. “Here you are, buddy.”
“Wow, it’s amazing,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Be careful,” he said. “The brakes don’t work well.”
“Oh, really?” I rode down the road and braked. “You’re right. Both the brakes don’t function well, but
I will manage.”
“Follow me,” said Tsiku as he pedaled away ahead.

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