My last week ( Sorry for the long gap in writing )

 It’s one in the morning, and oh, the week I’m about to tell you guys about. I can't think of a particular point to begin with. I’ve met a lot of wonderful women in my life—women who have blown my mind away. But whether by sheer luck or destiny, I’ve now met someone I can talk to in a way that makes me want to be chatting with her right now instead of writing this. The kind of conversations we have, how we can talk about anything and still find something new to discuss moments later—I’ve never felt that before. But let me not get ahead of myself. I was about to tell you about my entire week. Let’s go.

Last Monday, I was supposed to attend a very important event in my life—my friend’s wedding. What I would’ve done to be there. I had everything planned out: I was supposed to fly to Birgunj in the evening, attend his wedding the next morning, and make it back. What I didn’t do was tell JD about it. And by the time I got around to it, it was too late—he wanted boots on the ground by early afternoon. I rescheduled my flight to 12:10. I was off to Birgunj, and I missed my friend’s wedding. The entire way there, I regretted it.

The moment I landed, it was all work. I went straight to meet AD—we were supposed to head to India. I knew there was no way we’d leave that very same day. My original flight had been in the evening for a reason. So we left for India on Tuesday.

That evening, we visited the first person who had helped us with our project in Muzaffarpur. Then we headed to Patna. We didn’t get what we came for. The work was delayed to Wednesday. We stayed the night. Nights in India are always enjoyable.

The next morning, we got straight to work, but it didn’t happen—the thing we had hoped for. Once again, they gave us nothing but promises. And with the kind of hope that empty promises bring, we came back. By the time we returned to Nepal on Friday, I was sure there was no reason to hold on. We had come back because Saturdays and Sundays meant holidays in India.

Back in Birgunj, all I wanted was to return to Kathmandu. Remember, there was someone I wanted to meet. She was the one behind it all. But I decided it was best to ask the boss. He ordered me to stay until Monday, and like a good soldier, I did—at least I tried. I’m writing this on Monday, and I’m in Kathmandu.

I did my best to get all the work done from Birgunj, but it was no use. The people necessary for this job weren’t interested. They did things on their own time.

Then, all of a sudden, I realized—it was Friday, and I was in Birgunj. I could visit my childhood home, where I had spent my summers and most of my Dashain vacations. So I did.

I left Birgunj at 6:30 and made my way to Chapur. Oh, lovely Chapur. I still remember the four-foot-tall trees that stood opposite our home. As a child, they had felt like entire forests. I remembered the days I went to temples with my family, the day I encountered a snake and my mama killed it, the time I fell off a stack of hay and nearly broke my back.

This Saturday, I went to my aunt’s house and stayed there. Uncle suggested we visit Barat Taal—an incredible place in Bagmati. We left on Saturday evening. We got there around four, but we had to wait for the rain to stop. I took my brother to see the rainbow, took plenty of pictures of it. Now, I wish I had taken some with him too. Well, next time.

I had planned to return to Birgunj that same night, but it got too late. So I took the first bus out of Chapur the next morning and was back on duty by nine. I wanted to fly out by four in the evening, but the person I had to meet wouldn’t be available until eleven.

And then came the surprise—turns out, the friend I had traveled to Patna with was already in Kathmandu. I can’t explain the kind of betrayal I felt. He could have at least informed me. At that point, all lines had been crossed. But still, when asked to stay in Birgunj, I agreed.

Then, at the last moment, another critical project came up. I rushed to the hotel, then sped to the airport, hoping to catch the last flight out of Birgunj. I missed it by twenty minutes. Maybe it was bound to happen. That’s when I decided—I would take the very vehicle that had brought me to the airport and drive straight to Kathmandu.

And by doing so, I would fulfill my promise of making it to my friend’s reception on Sunday.

I arrived around eleven. I enjoyed it for a while.

Now, I’m back home, thinking about how I should ask to meet her tomorrow. I already know how. But I won’t share it here. At least, not today.

So, cheers to Aakash. And cheers to me too.

Good morning, folks.