When news regarding the death of the litterateur Indra Bahadur Rai first became known on March 06, I couldn’t believe my ears. Then when the media confirmed this to be true, I was taken aback. This heart-breaking news came as a total shock to me. I had known IB Rai long before I started reading his works. Both my maternal grandparents were born in Kalimpong, India. They fell in love there, got married and then permanently moved to Jhapa. Grandfather was in the Indian police hence he spent a large part of his life in India. His roots have spread deep into the land. He used to travel to cities in West Bengal frequently.

Not many years had passed after my birth when my parents left me with my maternal grandparents. I grew up with them. I have travelled to many places in India with my grandfather. When I was a fourth grader, I remember visiting Kalimpong with him. After we got off from the bus, we walked a long distance and arrived at his friend’s house. We were welcomed by two old men. One was his childhood friend, Mr Balaram, and the other was the literary icon, Indra Bahadur Rai. Grandfather was already friends with IB Rai. He introduced the writer to me and said he is known by many in the country and that I should always aspire to be like him. I remember IBR asking for my name, the name of my school, what class I was in and my aim in life, among others things. He had also asked what my favourite subject in school was. I remember shyly admitting that it was Nepali. The three old men broke into laughter and he pulled my cheeks. Sipping tea from their respective cups the old men started conversing while I was offered milk and biscuits.

Before we left the place to go to my mom’s maternal uncle’s house, IBR handed over a crispy twenty rupee Indian note to me. “Mithai khau nati (have some sweets, grandchild), ”he had said, again tugging at my cheeks. And my grandfather’s other friend gave me a book of Nepali folk tales by Bodh Bikram Adhikari. This was  the first out-of-the-syllabus book I read in my life. This was my first and last interaction with Indra Bahadur Rai. A couple of years ago I was a plus two student residing in Biratnagar. Our Nepali subject syllabus included his story Raat Bhari Huri Chalyo. This story touched my heart like no other.  I even wrote a seven-page review of it and showed it to my Nepali teacher. He was impressed and the following day he gave me a novel titled Aaja Ramita Chha, Rai’s magnum opus. He granted me one week time to return the novel to him. In my first reading, I found the book tough. Although I enjoyed the eastern dialect used by the author, the psychological and sociological insights it carried were so hard to decipher. I went through it thrice and in the process, the book became my favourite Nepali novel. Never in my life had I read a novel more than once.

During my two-year stay in Biratnagar, I came in contact with friends who were fond of Nepali literature. Our interests matched and we would share ideas and experiences. I read so many books in that time.  I got to read other notable works by IB Rai such as Khir, Chaparasi, Meri Didi, Ghansi Sanga Janti, to name a few. This one story by him, Jayamaya Aafu Matra Lekhapani Aaipugi, always manages to bring tears to my eyes. Reading his works gives me immense pleasure, which is why he is my favourite author not just of Nepali literature, but the world. Due to presence of “Purbeli Lawaj” in most of his works, a sense of belongingness engulfs me every time I read him. Needless to say, I become nostalgic. In Biratnagar, I came to know what ‘Leela Lekhan’ is all about. I also learned about the Tesro Aayam (Third Dimension) movement in Nepali literature and my respect for the author grew even more. He, together with Ishwor Ballav and Bairagi Kaila, had added a Tesro Aayam to Nepali Literature in part by introducing facets of postmodernism.

Rai was a novelist, short-story writer, essayist and literary critic. He is also the recipient of Sahitya Akademi Award, and Jagadambashree Award, to name a few. Last year, when writer Manjushree Thapa translated IB Rai’s magnum opus Aaja Ramita Chha into English with the title There’s a Carnival Today, I purchased it the very day it was released and read it with the same enthusiasm. Rai was an Indian national though many in India have no clue about him probably because of the language barrier. Thapa’s translation has now made IB Rai’s works available to a much wider audience. I would like to thank her personally for helping my favourite book reach a worldwide audience.

Not everyone is lucky enough to meet a celebrated writer as a child, who later on becomes his favourite author. How I wish I could go back in time, revisit old childhood days and ask him many questions pertaining to his works and Nepali literature that are plaguing my mind these days. I wish I could show him my work and let him know that the little boy whose cheeks he had pulled as a gesture of love many years ago has ventured into the world of story-telling himself. Hearing all this, I guess he would again pull my cheeks. But the bitter truth is—he is no longer with us. I badly miss him. The Nepali literature fraternity misses him. Everyone who has read him will miss him. And those associated with him, in one way or the other, will miss him dearly. He may not be physically present with us, but his works will continue to remain in the ever-expanding catalogue of Nepali literature. He has contributed a lot to enriching Nepali literature and added beauty to it with his unique style. In the firmament of Nepali literature, he will continue to shine as the brightest star.

Pokharel is pursuing  a chartered accountancy degree at the  Institute of Chartered Accountants of Nepal (ICAN)