Pandey Kaaji

No, this Pandey Kaaji was not a historical braveheart. Nor was he a travel guide. In the late 1970s and early1980s, travel guides were no less vainglorious than Kaajis and Mir Subbas of yore. But this Pandey Kaaji ruled the roost or Kamalpokhari-Gyaneswor promenade towards the early 1970s.

I was beginning to step out of the home to find my freedom. I needed friends to make my independent mark. Those days Kathmandu was populated by street hoods. There were Kopundol gang, Ason gang, Dilli Bazaar gang, New Road gang. But by all accounts, the most fearsome was the Kamal Pokhari-Gyaneswor gang, whose ‘godfather’ was Pandey Kaaji.

I don’t remember who introduced me to this ‘gang’. I would hear stories of Pandey Kaaji’s exploits but never witnessed any of them. I was the youngest and quietest, so everyone took a liking to me and would buy me tea at roadside shacks. Nobody had money, not even a few paisa. So many a time they would drink tea on credit. They were gentle gangsters. Still, my heart would bleed for the vendor.

Surprisingly they did not even tease the opposite sex, a Nepali national pastime then.

At one time, a tall white man invited us all to his restaurant, tucked at the back of a palace building. I would learn later that the man was Boris’ son, and the restaurant was Yak and Yeti. That was the first time I saw a restaurant bigger than the Park Restaurant at Rani Pokhari and our regular, RC momo.

Soon I was disappointed with Pande Kaaji’s then-famous gang. I just saw him a couple of times in passing but never in action. I cut the unbiblical cord and stopped going to the Kamal Pokhari-Gyaneswor promenade.

A few years later, I headed off to Delhi and made friends with graduate DTC drivers and educated unemployed from Dayal Singh and Desh Bandhu College to save myself from being ragged. These guys had no hesitation in hitting people on the head with iron rods or carrying a double barrel gun to the college to settle scores. I also had my first face-to-face meeting with a contract killer who was being hired by some students to teach a lesson to my closest friend, a Nigerian, who had knocked unconscious a local student over a chair.

A few years ago, I was filling up gas in my car tank at Tilganga.

A pillion rider kept on staring at me. I recognised him at once and shouted with joy, ‘Hey Kumar’. Kaaji was visibly happy and blurted out, ‘Oh, you still remember me.’ I told him that we must meet, fully aware that this would never happen as we were in different universes.

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