It wasn't a long flight, but for a sore leg, there is no such thing as a kind locomotive. Madonna and me together for two and a half hours in a flying metal tube.
I was living a dream.
If only we could afford something with whiskey on it. I guess it didn't matter, because Mad sleeping on my shoulder while holding on to my hand was equally delightful.
We were standing in the middle of the Kathmandu International. With me, I had a woman with leg brace and one briefcase. I was crazy to let Mad go to China all on her own. Even when I knew she was fresh off the bed with a serious injury. The day she returned home, her strength to stand up was gone. Her whole body was trembling with fever. The first thing she said before passing out in my arms was 'Mission complete'.
I was looking at this dolt who was sweating profusely next to me. Her disheveled hair was tied in a single pony and her black jumpsuit was equally drenched.
"Kyo, can you go to departure and get an auto rickshaw or taxi ready for us? I'll follow you slowly with the luggage." She said while glancing into the horizon.
I couldn't reply to her stubbornness and tenacity to complete her mission.
And it was all for me.
She started turning her head towards me. Before she could, I just had an urge to kiss her and embrace her in myself. I quickly bent over and kissed her sweaty cheek. Before she could say anything, I ran away from her. I didn't want her to see the face I was making.
I guess stepping in this country did unearth some memories, pleasant and awful, that were better off as a dot in distance. They made me who I am.
Those memories shaped me for what I would become.
This country wrecked my life, and the girl I ran away from reconstructed it from ground up.
Did I have love for Nepal?
I neared the glass door while reminiscing everything that had happened between me and Madonna House. Luckily, I spotted an empty taxi right outside and flailed my arms to attract the driver's attention. He became aware of his potential customers and exited the car. I asked him to follow me so that he could help us with our luggage, and I could give a hand to Mad. The driver had the door open for us, so I put Mad into the taxi and told the driver to wait.
I had to get to a washroom. I had to prepare myself for what was about to be a piece of my lover.
I had to be in right mind space to listen to everything. And I had to know that it was not going to be pleasant.
Neither to me, not to my wife.
I entered the airport washroom and dashed to one of the stall.
What was so painful about it?
Was the fact that I was coming in contact to Madonna as she was?
Or was every fear inside me, and this situation was it a normal phenomenon?
Whatever it was, it was giving me a nasty heartache.
I came out of the stall and looked at myself in the mirror. What I saw was a face full of mixed emotions. It is NOT a big deal, I tried to assure myself.
I splashed water on my face to wake myself up from this melodramatic sleep I had slipped into.
Kiyomi Anicrow, you are a survivor. Don't let something like this scare the pants off of you.
I untied my hair and tied them into a bun.
TIME TO STEP OUT!
WAIT, ITS NOT A BIG DEAL!
"It would be ten more minutes, and we'll reach our destination." The taxi driver was trying to make small talk with us, but I was more interested in what Mad was telling me about her past.
How she and Mapalla and Trigman met.
How they escaped a pedophile and a rapist.
How they escaped from one country, only to end up in another land full of strangers.
How they survived and what happened after.
"After that truck driver dropped us off infront of Daffodil School, we escaped. We broke into a sprint and didn't stop until we reached our breaking points. We were running all over the city. The air around us was unnaturally refreshing. Every breath tasted sweet. Every step we took was towards our own desires. I guess I was wrong in participating in the triumphant cheers by Mapalla and Trigman. They had suffered a horrific time. I was wrong to enjoy this freedom because I had not earned it."
Madonna took a pause before speaking again," Kyo, do you think this is one of the many debts I owed to god to achieve the happiness I envisioned for us?"
Everyone fell silent following Mad's existential qualms.
I reached over and cupped her hand into mine. She looked at me with weak eyes. I had to be strong for both of us, so I smiled.
She dropped her head once more and continued speaking," Since we had a lot of money, we never went hungry. Mapalla protected me and Trigman from any foreign agents. Everything we did or said passed through Mapalla. He was the father we needed. Anyway, he started working at a baker's shop whereas me and Trigger stayed at a temple. He'd come every night with treats in his hands. It was all that we did for a long time. Eventually, Trigger also started working at a wool mill. I started spending all of my days alone. Then one day, I decided to take a stroll across the town and I came across the same old Daffodil school. It was afternoon, so all the children were leaving the premise. Something pained me when I saw those kids in uniform. I thought they had a place to belong. A place to live. A place to thrive amongst others their kind.
That night, I proposed Mapalla to admit me in the school. He took my stupid wish and forged my elementary school documents. He said I needed to work hard, and he taught me basics in all the required subjects in the meantime. I don't know what drove my desire to study, but I crammed everything I was taught. When the next admissions season started, I passed the entry test and got into 5th grade. If was difficult at first, but eventually I got the hang of it and I became one of the average students."
Mad took another deep breath and said, " There, I met her."
"Who? The one we are meeting today?" I inquired.
The taxi screeched as the driver pumped the brakes of his car.
"We're here." He said.
"No. the one who kicked everything off. We're meeting the one who concluded everything."
The taxi made a funny engine noise and drove away, while I gawked at the building in front of me.
JAZEERA UNIVERSITY FOR COMMERCE AND ARTS
"Mad, why are we at a university? I thought we were going to a hotel."
"Yeah, I redirected the driver while you were in the restroom."
"Still didn't answer the question."
"Kyo, we're meeting Professor Amaan Al-Habib here."