How High?
Here is my absolutely flat-out adventure. There was a chill in the air as it got dark. We were a group of four. Instead of doing the usual dinner-dance routine - it was New Year’s Eve in Nepal - we decided to start early and walk through Darbar Square and then hit the back-packer hub of Thamel.
We kept changing pubs and finally found ourselves at the Rum Doodle. We had no idea about its history. 
It has got its name from the book The Ascent of Rum Doodle by W. E. Bowman. This place has been visited by all the summiteers and even today those climbing Everest make it a part of their itinerary.
There are paper footprints stuck on the wall with signatures of the great climbers; there are also autographs of heads of state.
The restaurant is at two levels and we were on the terrace. Long wooden benches and tables give it a rustic look. There were some diplomats on our right and a bunch of punks from nowhereland on our left. A real tree that rose from the ground floor stood in the middle. We nibbled on our snacks and within half an hour no one seemed interested in the food.
The lady who was with us was very good at handling her drinks. She decided we needed tequila shots. Before I could figure out what was happening, I had downed four.
Earlier I had stuck to discussing philosophy, then psychology…now it was too late. I got up, stood on the bench, held on to the bark of the tree and sat atop a sturdy branch. Then I summoned the manager.
“I want one of those,” I said, indicating the footprint on the wall.
“I am sorry,” he replied, “but that is only for climbers.”
“What do you think I have done? I have climbed this tree.”
After much discussion a paper footprint was brought, a tiny one, and pinned to the wall. I was given a pen. I signed but don’t recall what I wrote. There was some applause.
That night I felt I had truly done something adventurous.
It is unlikely that I will ever climb any mountain, but every little hill has a peak and when you look from afar when I point a finger up, you won’t know how far the sky is from wherever I am.
Keywords:
She writes with anguish and pessimism, a journey into hearts of darkness with no light at the end of that distorted prism, mainly because as she astutely observes, “every few years Pakistan writes a new fiction” to keep the embers alive. ”
—India Today
About Farzana
To be categorised is near-death. It would be nice to say that one is a literary vagabond, but it just does not convey fully the sense of rootlessness and ruthlessness one strives for constantly.
Have written opinion pieces, feature articles and interviews for...
Connections
Farzana’s Favorite Books
Every writer, besides the ones I have listed, who has had something to convey that leaves me with the taste of bitter chocolate...that I like.
That was powerful treequila
That was powerful treequila you drank.
And barked up the wrong
And barked up the wrong tree.
~F
I trust you had a safe
I trust you had a safe descent from your lofty, if wobbly, vantage. :)
Which reminds me...I play bass with several different bands from time to time...occasionally in pubs and dives, but mostly in coffeehouses.
Coffeehouse audiences are much harder. In a pub, the more lubricated everyone gets, the better you sound (at least to them). You can really suck, but nobody cares as long as you're loud.
In a coffeehouse, as the night wears on, everyone gets more caffeinated...and musically discriminating. I'm not sure which is better....the pay's about the same, either way. :)
Eric
I descended with some
I descended with some flourish, and later embarrassment overtook.
Your bass-playing sounds cool. I think they probably had some live music below; it was impossible to hear anything. The funny thing was even when people took to the floor they wanted pictures clicked. But I can imagine a more discerning, or at least respectful audience, at coffee houses.
I only hope they don't keep you up all night :)
~F
every little hill has a peak
every little hill has a peak f, yes, this is true, that is how life should be. nice one. m
I even see anthills as
I even see anthills as having peaks! So, Mary, optimism must not stretch too far...or high...thanks.
~F