Time Space & Me

I was U-tubing towards the sunset....with the gush of summer evening....I happened to crash on old songs, imfamous of my darling ages. That time we had just one school structure, simply thached and bamboo splits knitted wall, celled into odd sized compartments, labelled as LKG, UKG, class 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. The flooring was wooden planks with inches of gaps....raised about 2 feets from the ground. I still remember prowling under this space, sometime for heroic reasons of recovering belongings like pencil, erasers or marbles. There would be forest of crumpled papers, neat folios, any sort of garbage that students produce in the class....chalk pieces snd rulers. Sometime would rush into peep shight from one crevice to another crevices ......(heavy pun attached).....the girls would jump onto uncomfortable blush while we would feel little charmed. After this fruition, I should be always prepared for the knocking ordeal at the escape gate....some Mayas would be waiting in total stealth and  reconnaissance......sometime would end up at olympic sprints. The walls dilapeted and with eye level peep holes would always supply functional communication between two classes. We would plan game of balls, or flight to gurasay dara for amala and berries, or ambush some tiffins hidden in artemesia tufts. Short break, would last for about 15 minutes...all the lads would fall in line below the football field and fly their zippers, take out their guns and shoot at air. The fluid bullet would take geometrical trajectory according to the size and load of the amminitions. Any one crossing the terrace beneath would be revered. While girls would look for private open spaces a walk away....in those moments sighting of girlie undies would be a feat of Achilles....if at all, these ladies would buzz off like hornets.......the class would resume as the gong admitted....we would sit on the floor and anticipate someone to show up. Mr.Poul would wizz in in his signature black coat, flipflop and thick spectacles. He was learned, but also crazy. He would occupy his dusty chair, slotch forward and sleep...quite literally he would jump up on his own snoring. Today again, dancing and singing in the class.....we had all time dancers, Mr. Ramay, Phulu, Bhagi, Kamali and great break dancer Mr. Kumar. The chosen singers would start in perfected syncronization.....may be from c scaled ' Maan ko kura lai......' old nepali song by Deny Denzongpa.....whatever, lyrics would become tweaked, neverever complete....the chain of mudered songs would last whole hour....taking turns and rests....finally, the teacher would leave fully entertained while students in their zealous cacophonies. The songs in the air those teases my memories of my early days in schools are....'Moo tah khadeena kuwa ko pani...Tara Devi', Shanti zThatal's, Prem Dhoj, Anber Gurung.........and so on. The days were truly like out of Picasso's brush painting just unconditionally but anything but master piece....these days were like out of Mozard......always in symphony of sweet memories.....those days were like out of Da Vinci....that shaped the future of those who danced in those dilipated mud walled classes.....as I try to bury those days in fresh memories, I see my contemprories, Kiran, Karnay, Bickram, Kumar, Prakash, Naru, Phulu, Yeshi, Tenzin, Tekay, Tej Man, Ganga.......the wolf gang out of the twilight....intellectuals of their time, the time when I went to school wearing my aunty's blouse ... the time when I was creative that I redesigbed my gumboot into topboot and endured my grany's whiplashing........