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Bijay Malla (b. 1925) Bijay Malla is the son of Riddhibahadur Malla, the first editor of Sharadd, and the younger brother of Govind Bahadur Gothale. Bijay Malla was educated at. Banaras Hindu University and at Trichandra College in Kathmaridu. Both Gothale and Bijay Malla were strongly influenced by their childhood in the literary household where Sharadd was produced, as well as by BhavanI Bhikshu, who was the journal's third editor. Malla spent two years in jail for his ariti-Rana political activitiesduring the late 1940s (hence the second story translated here) and was until 1990 the secretary of the Royal Nepal Academy. Malla began by writingprose poetry and drama and quickly developed a self-consciously modern style ol prose that strongly resembles his speech: rapid and confiding. His stories, which are almost always set in Kathmandu, observe life from a variety of unusual angles. "The Engineer 's Head" (Injinlrko Tauko), a story for which there has not been space in this book, is another interesting parable of humankind in the age of technology. Malla is also noted for his poetry, several dramas, and two novels. Malta's stories are published in two collections:Ek Bdto Anek Mod (One Road, Many Turnings, 1969) and Parma ra Kaidi (The Prisoner and the Dove, 1977). Malla was awarded the Sajha Puraskar for Ek Bdto Anek Mod in 1970. SUNGLASSES (KALO CHASHMA) It was raining a little. As I left the house in the dusk, I told my wife that I wouldn't be back that night. But rny work finished earlier than I had expected and I came home at about two in the morning. I knew the front door would be locked, so I went to the back door, which was 236 sometimes forgetfully left open. Even if it was shut, it could be opened by shaking the door frame hard; the lock was not especially strong. I was reluctant to call out and wake someone up when they were fast asleep. I felt this would cause an unnecessary fuss. I was soaked through by the rain, but the back door was open. I went inside and crept up the stairs to the first floor, the second floor. The door to the room was shut. I pushed it gently: it was locked. So I thought I would go across the balcony into the back room to lie down. The room was dark; I pressed the switch and the electric bulb glared brightly. I mopped my brow and dabbed my face with my handkerchief. Then I noticed the sound of someone breathing. I turned and looked: someone was asleep on the bed. f shook the water from my coat, shirt, and trousers. Sometimes my wife tires of her room and sleeps somewhere else. For that reason, every room is prettified! I laughed to myself. Then suddenly I began to doubt that it really was my wife sleeping there because the door to my room was locked. So I wiped my eyes and peered over. Yes, it was her, alright. And there was someone else there, too, with fat thighs. I quietly moved closer. They were both fast asleep. Mywife was sleeping with her head resting on our neighbor's brawny shoulder and her forehead pressed against his cheek. Her breast was partially bared. The man was sleeping with his arms around her, squeezing her tightly with his thighs. They had obviously fallen asleep in great contentment. As I looked at them, f suddenly thought of two white roses entwined and blossoming together. For a while 1watched their contented faces and felt that there should be places in every life where the earth's creatures can play and enjoy themselves, and so sustain their lives. If they could live out their time in games, they would consider it an accomplishment. I moved back a little, in case they woke up, but they were fast asleep. They did not lie still, however: they both moved their arms, as if searching for something on each other's breast. The white skin shone on their plump legs. I just stood and stared. I felt as if this man and this woman were the first people of creation. I felt like a spectator. Watching this charming scene was like watching some great event. So I watched. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was watching my own wife sleeping shamelessly before me, in an immoral liaison with another man. I should be embarrassed. I should think this...

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Additional Information

ISBN
9780520910263
Related ISBN
9780520070486
MARC Record
OCLC
43476642
Pages
280
Launched on MUSE
2014-01-01
Language
English
Open Access
No
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