A Memorable Day and the Fourth Edition of "Karna"
Though it's now mid-Monsoon, my thoughts go back to Magh (January/February). On the first of Magh, I unexpectedly met Pushparaj Poudel of Shikha Books. I often get lost in my own world, struggling to maintain or renew friendships. Poudelji is an old friend, our bond dates back to the publication of "Ago Chhopera Katinjhel" and grew stronger during the first edition of "Karna" and the early days of "Dhun Bhitra Dhun Bahira." On Maghe Sankranti, while many enjoyed chui-chaaku, we shared black tea together, simple but sweet.
A Surprising Request
During our long-overdue meeting, Poudelji bluntly said, "Many young readers keep asking about your early poems. They visit the store daily, searching for your first collections. Shouldn’t we reprint them?" I stayed silent. The world has no shortage of advice-givers, but since he’s an old friend, I listened.
He didn’t stop there. "Send me your first poetry collections, ‘Pailaipichhe Sagarmatha’ and ‘Kramashah Eklaai Eklaai.’ I’ll publish them." I hesitated, they were old works, and I didn’t even have soft copies. "But you have physical copies, right?" he pressed. I did. Days later, I handed them over.
A week after, he called: "Check your email. I’ve sent something." There they were, both books, freshly typeset. Puru Lamsal had designed the covers and sketched the photos. I approved everything.
The Books Return, New and Beautiful
Another week passed. "Come see the books," Poudelji said. He handed me two copies each of "Pailaipichhe Sagarmatha" and "Kramashah Eklaai Eklaai." I took them straight to Dhangadhi, carrying them in my hands, not my bag. The scent of fresh print was intoxicating.
Time leaped to 2082 BS (2025 CE). "Agni" was still burning bright, with new editions rolling out. Now, my two older collections had joined them. And "Dhara," delayed for various reasons, was finally nearing release in a stunning new format. Bhupendra [Khadka] assured me: "Dai, it’s coming this week."
A Flood of Reprints and New Plans
Journalist and lyricist Bhupendra Khadka, a true book lover, was thrilled about the reprints, even happier than I was. While recording his "Padhchha Kitab Nepali" series, he beamed: "All your books should be in every store. Every single one should be reprinted, in high quality!" His joy was infectious.
By Asar (June/July) 2082, Poudelji raised another idea: "Many keep asking for ‘Karna.’ Do you have a soft copy?" With "Dhara" about to release, it felt like two books were blooming at once.
Poudelji joked, "Imagine if all twenty of your books sell out and the publisher reprints them all in one year! What will you do then?" I laughed. New books were my focus, but reprints? They could come anytime.
I sent the soft copy. Soon, "Karna"’s fourth edition was ready, new layout, new cover, new spirit. Puru Lamsal designed the cover again and even took new reference photos. Poudelji suggested adding fresh commentary, linking all three epics. My insightful friend Rajkumar Baniya joined the effort. Prof. Dr. Govindaraj Bhattarai and Prof. Dr. Sanatkumar Vasti’s deep analyses remained from the first edition, but Baniya’s crisp notes made this edition special.
A Day of Double Celebrations
Within two weeks of these discussions, two calls came simultaneously, one from Bhupendra Khadka, the other from Poudelji.
Bhupendra said: "Dr. Shankar Gaire, who wrote ‘Sootaputra,’ is in Kathmandu. Let’s record an informal dialogue between you two, one Karna epic writer, one Karna storyteller. No anchor, just a free-flowing chat. Bring a copy of ‘Karna.’" I checked bookstores, none left.
Meanwhile, Poudelji’s call: "Come see the first copy of ‘Karna’!" Perfect timing, I could take the fresh copy to the recording. "Hip hip hurray!" Happiness makes you childlike, they say. True.
I was desperate to hold the fourth edition’s first copy, but I had two events back-to-back. If I weren’t the chief guest, I’d have delayed, but time rules all.
After launching Raju Sitoula’s "Ishwarka Phoolharu" and Alpagyani’s "Ujyalo Parkhiraheko Manis," I rushed to Poudelji, sweat unapologetic. Bhupendra and Dr. Gaire waited at the studio, three coffees deep, messaging: "We’re waiting." Such sweet pressure.
Dr. Gaire and I share a close bond. He’d come to Kathmandu for "Agni"’s launch years ago, and we’d met in Palpa too. Now, he listened as I gave a speech somewhere, how surreal! But he understood busyness.
Minutes after getting "Karna" from Poudelji, I raced to the studio. Bhupendra touched it first, grinning: "Brilliant, Dai! Heartfelt congratulations!" A true bibliophile.
During recording, Dr. Gaire and I swapped insights on "Karna" and "Sootaputra." But that first copy? It felt like first love. "I’m taking this one," I declared. Both smiled, writers know the magic of a first copy. Yet I felt greedy; our Palpa friend deserved it too. But no, this was "first love."
Meanwhile, Sangita waited at Bagbazaar. Pokhara’s warm-hearted creators had gathered to celebrate Alpagyani’s book launch over dinner. I’d begged for 30 minutes but took an hour. Dr. Gaire’s white hair and beard, his profound thoughts, memories of our Dhangadhi literary debates flashed by. Too rushed to reminisce.
Exhaustion and Joy
Post-recording, exhaustion hit. Three events in a day. Raju Sitoula teased: "Dai, let’s grab coffee." "Next time," I said, heading to Alpagyani’s launch. Bhupendra insisted: "Let’s eat, all four of us!" But "Budi" (Sangita) was waiting. We laughed. I hid that Pokhara’s team awaited me too.
Though I left without eating, hunger gnawed. Guilt tugged, I’d kept Budi waiting. So I grabbed a pen and inscribed the first "Karna" copy: "To dear Sangita, a heartfelt gift, the first copy of ‘Karna’s’ fourth edition." Signed, dated. She’d been eager to see it.
At Bagbazaar, Sangita fretted: "Your phone was off! Did the recording end? Ashok said to drop you home." Puru flipped through "Karna," admiring his cover. Someone snapped a photo. He noticed my inscription and teased: "Dai wrote a love letter to Bhaauju!"
Dr. Ashok Thapa had left. Soon, we scattered, Puru one way, Jayaram Timilsina another, Laxman Biyogi and I a third. We discussed Biyogi’s new book "Satyam", he’s a gifted young writer. At 17, he’d sought writing advice from Madhav Ghimire and Govind Bahadur Malla. A rare soul.
In the taxi, Sangita sighed: "My clothes are soaked. I need to go home." I stayed quiet. Laxman updated Alpagyani by phone, narrating like a radio host.
By dusk, at Swayambhu’s edge, Alpagyani and a dozen kindred spirits waited at a table laden with food. Our eyes spoke, hands shared plates.
That day, "Karna" reborn, old friends reunited, new memories etched, was one for the books.
