A line of poinsettia flanked the wall that separated the courtyard from the people riding on the back of an elephant. Ghana S. Gurung, chairperson of CGCF, had already welcomed the guests. Manjushree Thapa was behind the lectern reading from her book, A Boy from Siklis. To her right were the restrooms standing embarrassingly out of reach until the formal program was over. About eighty people sat on blue and red plastic chairs listening to her. Close to forty stood around. Far behind facing the gate, Quixote’s Cove exhibited little stacks of her published works till date for sale.
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A line of poinsettia flanked the wall that separated the courtyard from the people riding on the back of an elephant. Ghana S. Gurung, chairperson of CGCF, had already welcomed the guests. Manjushree Thapa was behind the lectern reading from her book, A Boy from Siklis. To her right were the restrooms standing embarrassingly out of reach until the formal program was over. About eighty people sat on blue and red plastic chairs listening to her. Close to forty stood around. Far behind facing the gate, Quixote’s Cove exhibited little stacks of her published works till date for sale.
The face of the lectern had a huge picture of a smiling Chandra in a red shirt with white leaves. A marigold garland encircled the picture. Manjushree kept reading with tenderness in her voice. To her left, was a zoo office building. A piece of cloth hung from it with the words: “Sikles in Canvas Project” printed on it. Below it, lines of photographs on the life at Siklis (Siklis -? Sikles-?) were on display - aligned on top of a low hedge, pasted on blue canvases and taped on red walls. Subjects ranged from a resting loaded wicker basket and a woman happy with yogurt (it seemed) spattered on her head to a mere rose shining in front of a full moon. These pictures were highly colorful and hence, stunning, probably more so than the depicted reality. “The beauty of a powerful camera,” a viewer said.
Manjushree finished her reading. Bandana Yonzon Lepcha, who had worked for the late Chandra Gurung as an assistant, took the mike and asked the author to stay behind for a Q$A session. Only two people were curious and daring enough to ask questions. A woman went to the stage when the mike could not reach her. She wanted to know if a Nepali translation of the book would be available in the market. As she walked back to where she was standing, Manjushree said that it depended on the publisher. Another man came forward and asked if Chandra’s infidelities were the results of his insecurities. Manjushree refused to admit that Chandra might have been an insecure loser. He had a confident, charismatic professional persona; he just kept it separate from his private life.

The next to stand behind the lectern was Sara Parker, who immediately confessed that the pictures on display were not her works as publicized but of a community of Sikles photographers. Throughout her speech, she was apologetic for stealing the limelight from them. “I am just a photography lecturer, what do I know about taking pictures?” she said, alternating between accented Nepali and her native English. She then briefed about the “Sikles in Canvas” project. The pictures on display were going to be a book and a set of postcards, money from whose sales would go to the Sikles Development Concerned Group.
Dr. Hum B. Gurung, a member of CGSF, brought the formal program to a closure by thanking everyone, the newspapers, the bookshop and “especially the Goraa sathiharoo (the white friends)” for their help. Before he left, he reminded the audience of what Chandra Gurung believed in: “Even if we work in a city, we should not forget our villages.”
People then scrambled around. Some queued for Manjushree’s autographs; some bought her books from the Cove stall first; some waited for the restroom doors to open; some looked at the photographs; some lined up for snacks: a cream cheese sandwich, French fries and pakodas with ketchup and chili sauce; and some formed mini-groups to discuss probably about Chandra Gurung, conservation and Manjushree’s books, or about something else.
- Weena Pun