An observant session

The session started.

A compact frame, roughly 5.6′, with a firm voice control stands in front of me. I am sitting in the first row and he is shifting, very subtly, the fault to the implementers of the policies. He maneuvers the ship of policy makers swiftly in the ocean of words. ‘Mark and Spencer’ new wool muffler is hanging loosely around his neck. This man standing in front of me, wearing a well-tailored grey black suit, just tagged the society “stagnant”. He looks very precise just like the slit at the bottom of his coat that seems to be precisely one-third of the entire length. The grey hair hoarded up at the lower hairline tells the stories of his years of knowledge and experience. By the way he makes certain gestures, anyone with keen eyes can predict that he is right-handed. Walking slowly before the projecting screen in his black shiny shoes, probably 39 shoe-size, he starts his presentation.

First slide and he is promising.

Almost everyone in the hall is grave silent and serious. Sherpa’s open minded and equally open mouthed yawn. Khika Dai’s little restricted yawn. And some befuddled minds. My speaker’s eyes, coveted under plain glasses, pretends to look at everyone but his grey brows somehow convinces my pen that he would soon forget these faces as soon as he reaches the parking lot. He must own a fancy car or SUV or Land Rover judging by his fine taste of clothes. He is ambling across the hall measuring the length of each stride, weighing every gram of word and probably deciding what gesture to make next.

Fourth slide and determined.

By this time, I am a bit worried if he asks me something. I have been writing continuously but not what I’m listening. I am just being observant, you see. He glances at his sparkling watch, time and again, to keep track of his allocated time. But he is very determined to spill his pearls of wisdom through those lips covered half-way by white mustache.

Thirteenth slide and still determined.

I wonder if the hair creeping out of those old ears or that mustache gives him a more rusty look. Yet, his best feature is his nose. It’s a short one placed just above white thick mustache. The tip, unlike regular noses, is flat and is shaped oval. He must have fallen over his nose in his childhood! To make this feature even more prominent, nearly invisible black hairs, stand short on the ridge of the nose. His fingers are okay but the lower part of his relatively shorter right thumb is outlined by black ink (Could he be a teacher?). His golden ring in the left hand encircles the stout finger next to the lean little finger and shines brilliantly against the yellow-hued light just above it.

Twenty-second slide and still determined.

If you opt out some grey hairs, a protruding belly and a small patch of bald head at the back, he could be one of those sci-fi agent “Men in Black”, fighting the alien named bureaucracy using his guns of words, bombs of ideas and arrows of finger gestures. And after he is finally convinced with his attack, he slides that right hand into his pocket. A moment of silence and a grin smile mark his victory. His eyebrows remind me of “Yakku” in Chandrakanta, always doing the cruel deed and lolling around with his tongue stuck out. But my speaker seems far from Yakku in character and knowledge in education policies, of course.

Twenty-sixth slide and still more determined than ever.

Conclusively, Mr Pokharel, an interesting personality for keen eyes, sounds prominent in his knowledge, experience and speech. Not a techno-savvy (after observing the slides and his relationship with them) , he seems to be good old man. His face bears close resemblance to Mr. Prachanda but his session credits him with more of a University professor.

Thirty-second slide and the impregnable man stands still determined.

The session ends.

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