There is a dislocation in this location. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s not them, it’s us. It’s not the natives with their wares, it’s not the sahibs all aware. It’s the in-betweens, searching for meaning, meaning me, me, me.

I came to this place a long time ago. Then I left, seeking greener pastures. When I returned, many years thence, everything was illuminated. Double vision, however you want to look at it, I looked long and hard and thought I saw a reflection of myself, and others like myself, that pleased me. I stayed.

I became a part of the place, inasmuch as I could really be part of it, a rootless non-believer barnacled onto the disintegrating hull of a Newar cosmos. Where others saw the spirit within, I chose to dwell on its sculpted skin. Where the non-modern grappled with the modern, I swooped onto the sacrifice, scooping up the choice tidbits. And I helped others do the same. We became a circle of hip jerks.

In this, there is no guilt to speak of. As our worlds drew apart, we’d only sought an anchor. But sometimes the shiny threads wear thin, and a weariness reveals itself. A sense that I am repeating myself, creating patterns I grow bored of as I begin to recognize them. Where does the circle end?

People keep asking me what is sacred to me. My inability to repeat myself in this, at least, may speak of an emptiness, a faithlessness. It may also express a space that an inherited or borrowed faith cannot fill. In this, at least, I am free to grow my own.

There are many flowers in my landlady’s garden. She’s not here to see them, and her vegetable patch runs wild – the broccoli bolted, peas choking in dry pods, beans smothered by blackflies, strawberries nibbled at by rats. I’ve promised her I’ll plant some pumpkins. But I’m diverted by the sight of Shiva in a pot of morning glory, grinning rudely, the old kid in town sidewinding through pretty maids all in a row. The double meaning – the need to get the grass growing in my own space – takes on due significance. Unbidden, the weed springs forth.

Written by Rabi Thapa
Kathmandu, Nepal, March 25, 2016