20th October 2012, 2 pm
I slowly and rather unwillingly approach the bus counter of Mid-Western Region in New Bus Park. I sneak a peek at my cellphone to check the time. It is already more than 2 pm and our bus is supposed to depart at 4 pm. I push and shove the crowd to reach the counter. I show the guy at the counter my ticket and ask in a soft voice if he could cancel one of my tickets and give me a refund. He refuses saying they can't do so as the deadline for canceling the ticket had already passed and suggests me to wait for the bus and sell the ticket to someone else myself. I look around if to see if someone is looking for a ticket to Dailekh. Almost everyone seemed to be holding their own tickets. Damn! I say out aloud.
As the bus arrives, I ask the conductor if he would help me sell the ticket. He too refuses. Well, it was not in his interest to resale the already sold ticket. Then, I get an idea. I take out a paper and write “Tickets available for Dailekh for tonight's bus. If you want, contact...” and then put the paper behind the wipers of the bus. A small crowd gathers in front of the bus but no one seems to be in need of a ticket.
Day 1 and 2: Kathmandu - Dailekh Bazaar - Bhaisikhor
Despite our efforts, we were unable to sell the extra ticket as the counter refused to take back the tickets and conductor refused to sell it and it was quite difficult to find a person who already hadn't gotten a ticket even if the ticket was for a muda (stool made of bamboo). We even tried to sell the ticket to the Muda walas asking them to pay for our lunches and have the ticket. I guess, Govinda and I have a lot to do to harness our selling skills. I reminded myself not to buy tickets for anyone from next trek until and unless they are guaranteed to come on the trek. After a while, we just gave up on selling the ticket and got engaged into solving a more pressing matter- finding a hat for me. I had this sudden urge to get a hat a few days before the trek but hadn't been able to buy one. So, we wandered around the shops in the bus park to see if we could find one. We finally found one.
We returned to our bus to find three extremely loquacious young girls (mid-teens) beside our seats. Hearing their chatter for a few minutes was enough to make us pray to god that the bus ride did not last long. As the time for departure neared, people slowly began filling the seats and eventually the aisle as well. In addition to the seats, about half a dozen passengers were accommodated by the mudas and a few daring ones were standing.
At around 4 pm, the bus departed. The extra seat proved to be a boon as I could keep my bag along with me and use it as a cushion whenever I needed it. Govinda and I started discussing about what Rara might look like and how it would have been wonderful if Manoj too had joined us. However, as the bus gained speed so did the chatter of those girls too. Their continuous chatter, giggles and shouts annoyed the hell out of me. In addition to their loquacity, there were annoyingly curious. Once we settled down properly, they began pelting questions at us: Where are you going? Trekking in Dashain? Don't your parents say anything? Have you been to Dailekh before? And whenever I used a new term.What does that mean? Blah. Blah.Blah. I was on the verge of banging my head on some wall but thankfully as the night wore on they felt sleepy and so did we.
However, it was almost 24 hours drive to Dailekh Bazaar and the driver seemed to be in a hurry. He did not make any efforts to avoid the small pits and potholes on the road. Thanks to him, proper sleep became an impossibility. After a frequently disturbed sleep for about 16 hours, the bus finally reached Surkhet where it stopped for lunch. Govinda and I used this time to freshen up ourselves, have some snacks and take a walk around Surkhet which I did not find that impressive.
