July 3rd

CM Niroula, New Hampshire

The evening of the July 3rd began with full of joys and merrymakings in the vicinity. The fever of joyfulness in the faces of people could be seen easily while I was passing the bridge on the way to my home from my job. Fireworks had already begun.
The downtown adorned with lights, artificial trees and flowers I passed remembering my little boy at home, who was so curiously waiting my arrival. He was too see the fireworks played for the first time in his life.
I was having a kind of feeling like one of the Hindu festivals, Dashara, is around the corner. I remembered the delicious Nepali meals prepared during Dashara. But, that day it was different. With my hands on the steering I tasted lots of delicious foods, it was though a funny fantasy.
I passed Dunkin- donut, subways and McDonald but my mind went straight to homemade delicious food. No wine, no beer and no hard alcohol but also my eyes were open to regular special rice, radish pickle, glass of yogurt, pulse and some other spicy homemade curries and pickles.
Oops no… Tragedy!!…. I had not even expected. I was pulled over, I checked speed limit and found as I had not exceed it. I had decided to change the lane but still officer on duty was following me and pulled me over…. after a while a giant like officer wearing a big round hat, wearing a green uniform called khaki black shoes and a small gun in his belt. I was nervous and I didn’t recognize anything in my confusion. The officer got out of his speedy twinkling car and came to the side of my window.
Police: “Hello sir!”
Me: Hi good evening, how are you sir? (With some expectation to get rid of him)
Police: “Good. Do you know why are you pulled over sir?”
I was already glad, felt respected, nervous, excited, kind of dizzy, frustrated, sad, confused, exhausted and all at once. One hand I came from a place where a police officer counts the public as nothing and use never a good word but here- an officer is calling me “sir”. Oh yeah, I was already proud that he respected me like I am someone!
Me. No sir…
Police: “Sir you cannot use the phone while driving it’s the state law effective July 1 it’s strictly prohibited “.
In a deep confusion, I raised a point in a fainted voice, sir my phone is switched off, I don’t know may be I played a lot of game at my work.
In a furious mood with red-red eyes and apple like check stating at me in a loud voice, “so what’s in your hand if it’s not your cell phone?” The Officer shouted!
My peace had already lost of mind but now feel terror, slightly touched my pants and had found that I was okay. If he again asked me in the same way I need to check my car’s trunk to see if I had extra pants- I was so scared….
Yes sir, this is candy. I showed it to the officer and I raised my hand up to the window.
“Can I see your phone sir”, officer
Sure, here it is!
“Oh, your phone is dead.
I compared the flat dark candy and my cell phone.
I held a deep breath for relief. Otherwise, I was sweating and I was turning speechless.
“Have a happy July 4th sir, and drive safe”, said the officer in a cool voice.
Thank you, sir.
From that day on I have realized we should be real careful while driving, it’s not you but the one who is not a responsible driver who may be texting or yelling on the phone may cause an accident.
I salute the hard working officers who are trying to keep us safe. My way home was long like a never ending road. I remembered a childhood life where we used to have wooden made trucks which used to drive on a never ending road. My evening was just the same.
I came home, my face was like a squeezed lemon, a terrified and miserable looking. My son came to give me a nice hug expecting fireworks.
What a coincidence? Dal Singh, one of my neighbors, had arrived my house clad with traditional Nepali costumes. He was resettled very recently in the locality from one of the refugee camps in Nepal. He was curious as my little boy to see fireworks played. And yes! My mom was in a red sharee with a shawl covering her body and dad with a woolen hat and long thick sweater on him. They both were sensitive to chill than anyone else. They all were awaiting Silver colored Corolla to stop in front of the house.
Even my other-half was texting me since my second break telling not to attend any parties tonight as we are going for fireworks.
Co-workers and colleague were asking me to join a party and the rest of regular buddies were requesting an outing. I had denied their several requests for I was needed most for my family that evening.
I kept everything inside me and got prepared to drive them to the bridge. For my little boy, parents and Dal Singh it was so amazing. My other-half and I had seen the other year. I could read in the faces of theirs- the bliss in brim on seeing streaks of lights encircling the firmaments above their heads. Dal Singh patted on my back and said- ‘I remembered my elder brother explaining to me about these types of celebrations on other countries. For me it was like a tale. He had sowed the seed of desire in me to see such celebrations. I made it today. How happy he would become had he been alive today. He died mysteriously in the jail in Bhutan. Nobody knows- if the dead body we received was his? He was arrested just because he had questioned one of the census officers in 1991. His family members were categorized into three different groups. I wish these streaks of lights carry to him my homage and prayers. RIP by beloved.’
He burst into tears and hugged me tight. I just could pondered- what might have happened to his brother?