Lungs of the planet are burning, in Amazon forests. Some bloody loggers set fire to it. World leaders are paying attention, Brazil is on focus again, for wrong reasons. Luckily, Sydney is a city full of trees. The street I live in, is lined with trees and has greenery all around. I am eternally grateful.

But I love trees for different reason, and it has always been this way. I love trees, because they give us books. I mean apart from breathing the planet, catching pollution and making rain, they give us paper, which makes books.

From childwood, being a bookworm, I felt closer to books than to any human being. Well, being a loner helps in that regard. Books were the vehicles that took me far away, around the world, in the worlds of characters I could only dream of. They gave me eyes that allowed me to peer into the worlds of ancient societies from England to Tibet, modern lives of Tokyo to New York. I lived through the stories, the characters, journeys, treks, pain and horror. Who invented this miracle? Trees connect to soil, to other plants, animals, humans. They gave humans the vehicle to start what we know as the knowledge, wisdom, on whose foundations our understanding of everything grew, as we became the most powerful dwellers of this planet. From the trees, to paper, to knowledge and power, I am now able to connect the dots.

And I love trees because they give libraries, which are full of books. There was certain joy and pride carrying books from and to International libraries in Kathmandu when I was still in high school. The insatiable hunger of my teenage curiosity was only just satisfied by reading everything I could find in those libraries – literature, travel, sports, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, the story of The face on the wall in a short story from English writer E V Lucas, Rose from Tibet, Seven years in Tibet, and probably the most memorable were Tin Tin and Asterix and Oblix comic books. The British library in Kantipath moved to Maharajgunj. There used to be a Russian library in Putalisadak, a small Chinese one at Basantapur near the end of Jhochhen. The American library used to be at the heart of New Road, later moved to Naxal. All these libraries were where I used to spend most of my waking hours apart from schools, and shaped up my young mind, filling it with thrills, joy, sadness, happiness and just pure anticipation of what more is there! I was following top european soccer leagues – English, German, Spanish, French when I was barely twelve; in sync with the celebrities in tinsel towns in the US and Europe, the Rolling stones magazine used to be big back then too.

Other reason I love trees is because they give shade. Imagine sitting under the shadow of a tree on a hot day, with a cool breeze up in the hill looking down the fields in a remote village. The peace and tranquality they bring is something that cleanses your soul, the soothing breeze that seems to exist only under them is something I crave for everyday. Even one fully grown tree can turn your backyard from hot oven to a soothing cool sanctuary.

And of course there are forests. I remember walking inside the dense lushness at Cumberland forest in the NorthWest of Sydney while working for IBM is something I will always miss. Tall trees giving way to a lush walkways, hiding little ponds and bushes, it was a place for Nirvana.

Thank God for trees, the source of books.

Spending last few hours of the weekend before dragging your sorry ass off to work on Monday morning is a de facto modern life for the most living in the city. Today while flicking through Netflix, I ran into a doco about making of space ships and all the technical marvels involved. The narrator was unblemishingly showcasing how complicated it is to maintain the living condition inside the ship for astronauts once it is in the space, hanging hundreds of kilometres above Earth. All the air that has to be manufactured there, the water systems, the plumbing, the air pressure and communicaitons, protection from the heat and cold, harmful rays, travelling space debris and meteorites. It sounded quite a miracle such a thing could be made by humans, quite and achivement!

Then something hit me, forcing me to look up and stare at the ceiling. The earth has been providing this, almost effortlessly, for billions of years, for billions and trillions of creatures who come and go. Enough said, mother nature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trying to sell an old car could be this much trouble, I never imagined. Dodgy scammers, criminals, tools who never turn up for appointments or fools who can’t find their way out of the car park, they are all part of the journey. My weekend was done when this fool of a woman called me Saturday morning to meet at a local shopping mall so that she could look at the car. She turned up half an hour later, on my phone, completely losing it as she was unable to get out of the car park! All grumpy and pissed off, I had to cut short the meeting and walk away before I lost my sanity.

Then Sunday morning an old Middle eastern sounding gentleman called from Parramatta saying he could be there at 1 pm. The meeting was set and off I went waiting for him. I arrived early thinking of grabbing my favorite takeway coffee, I had some time to sit down in a local food court. I sat by the window pane overlooking the ice rink sipping my coffee working on my Mac checking some other potential car buyers’ messages. The seat in front of me was changing bums, from a Russian couple and their daughter to an Indian family  and some teenagers, in quick succession. The last character to sit in front of me was an unkempt dirty looking mid forties man. He politely asked if the seat was taken, I just gestured back its not. He immediately started a conversation with comments about the cold. I shot few words back saying yeah, the polar blast has been quite bad. He did not want to end it there and asked if I lived around the place. I said yes, and told him why I was there, I was waiting for someone to look at my car. To my surprise, he started to unravel his life story in front of me. He said that he is actually homeless, and once had a car, a house and job. He took me through his mental alley. He was apparently an artist and worked with quite a few indegenous artists, took on jobs painting street signs and art work. But due to poor health he could not continue and fell out, instead working odd jobs as construction worker. There he did well and actually became a low level manager. But his health deterioriated further and he could not work at all. And just like that one night, he found himself on the street, nowhere to go. He became homeless overnight! Since then he has been moving from one government housing to another, and currently in one where he could be evicted soon due to complaints he has made about the place – it is full or rats and cockroaches. The reason he has been given apparently have been his aggressive behaviour, unable to comply with housing regulations and threats towards the housing commission workers. He denied ever committing any of those felony.

In the midle of the conversation with the homeless man, I realised it was already 1 pm, the car buyer was supposed to be there. I had to call him back instead, just for him to tell me that he is still in Parramatta, his brother turne up late! No fu***ing message no apologies nothing! I lost track of the homeless guy dealing with this a-hole on the phone and before late, realized I was already on my car driving way back home fuming. Once my fumes subsided and mind cooled off, I suddenly remembered him and thought where would the guy be going if he was really evicted tonight! My weekend was screwed totally, but things were put in perspective. Life sure has a funny way of sneaking up on you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Purke (pronounced Poorkay), my father’s best friend, came to live with us since his early childhood and quickly adapted to life in the family. Inspite of all the ruckus he created since arriving, he won over people with his dedication to the family. Although unqualified, he took over as a house security guard and had very protective tendencies from early on.

He also showed great interest in well being of the family members. He is not
demanding and and pretty low maintenance. But he has some serious negative
characters, which I think are too late to change. His aggressive nature is helpful in
warding off unwanted visitors and thieves, but also makes him unapproachable and moody. This makes dealing with him very difficult. He also lacks self hygiene and has no manners. He would run around bare footed and then jump in the beds or sofas, bringing in dirt and germs. He also sheds a lot of hair, all our carpet is covered in it.

However, his fondness of the family, specially towards my father, has earned him a good place at home, and this has helped outweigh his shortcomings.

He has been with us for twelve years, basically all his life and is now like a family member. In fact, he has been providing a much needed moral and mental support for my father, who would lose a genuine listener to share his emotions without him. Purke provides a good hearty welcome everytime a family members or guests come home from outside, rare these days where no one cares about one another. This applies to those who he likes, those he does not like, God help them.

But he sometimes goes overboard and does not know when to stop, completely overwhelming people. Thankfully he is not fussed about electronic gadgets, tv or fashion, so it makes him very down to earth kinda character, easy to work with.

By the way, Purke is our dog. Although his official name is Bruno, we rarely use it,
He owes his un-official name to his physical stature, Purke in Nepalese means someone short. It seems to fit him pretty well as he is both short and stout.

Sadly, Purke passed away few months ago. Hope you are in a good place buddy. And if you have come back to this planet in a different body, do let us know 🙂