Lady against the hearth

This poem that holds a sad but true reality is dedicated to the group of mothers in some of the remotes of my country.


LADY AGAINST THE HEARTH

WITH THOSE BROWS SOMBER
SHE LIT THE FIRE ;RED ON TIMBER
ABOVE IT SINGS THE UGLY KETTLE
AND ASIDE HER CRIES HER STARVED DAUGHTER

THE RIPPLE OF YELLOW FLAME
BLAZES NOISILY IN HER MUTE SOUL
THE FLICKER OF IRONY
WEEPS SILENTLY IN HER ABUSED ROLE
DAYS PASS JUST BEHOLDING
HER SON BUT SHE AIN'T PAID
NIGHT TAGS HER ON SALE
WHEN SHE'S WANTED ON HER MAN'S BED

EVERYDAY IS FAMINE
IN HER PUNY RAVAGED SHELTER
BECAUSE, BOTTLE IS DEARER 
TO THE MAN SHE TIED KNOT TO
THE GUTTLE OF HER CHILDREN
IN A PIECE OF BREAD MELTS HER
HER HEART CAN'T BEAR THE TORMENT
WOEFUL, BUT SHE'S GOT TO

FROZEN SOUL THAT RESIDES
IN A BODY AGAINST FIRE
PONDERS AT THE SITUATION
ASKS HER WHERE IT DWELLS
WEEPS ALOUD IN DREARY SILENCE
BURNT ON DESIRE'S PYRE
MOURNS OVER THE GRIEVANCE,
RED RAGED TILL IT SWELLS

BREAKS A DAWN ANOTHER
WITH THOSE BROWS SOMBER
SHE LIT THE FIRE; RED ON TIMBER
ABOVE IT SINGS THE SAME UGLY KETTLE
AND ASIDE HER CRIES HER STARVED DAUGHTER..

Surviving the catastrophe

My name is Devi, Devi Tamang and I am a survivor of the perilous mayhem of Sunkoshi Landslide. I lost my family, my home and my everything at once that malevolent night. Buried underneath the Earth, deprived of the slightest of vision, I struggled for 3 whole days and nights with an almost-deadened possibility of my escape. In light of the fact, I enwrote about the asphyxial trauma I went through in that dungeonlike pit.

                                                    Surviving the catastrophe !!!

"Did you know? Fissures and cracks are seen all over. Boulders have started falling off and mud has begun rolling down the cliff since morning," uncle Nar Bahadur, a local of Itini village, was whispering to my dad. "We talked about the ongoings with the VDC secretariat and he claims he has already talked about it with the CDO. I hope the stakeholders won't sit still, snoring, until a tumultingly disastrous knock gives them a wake up call," he continued. All I knew that moment was that Kanle was not being able to bear the weight of its soil, and that it had started loosing its hold.

" Hurry up! We don't have time. First, we need to shift the cattles to Parajuli village. Still a lot of valuables are yet to be worked with." Uncle Hari was yelling at his wife down the narrow road below the cliff. "Bishnu, believe me. The cliff won't spare you. You've got to think wisely. You can't just risk your or your family's lives." He was making a pleading appeal with my dad.
"Cowards, Itini locals." Those were just the words spitted off my dad's mouth.

Bang! The door closes.

Around 11 in the dark, leaves were rustling clamorously. Strange outcries were heard ever and anon. I remember how that insanely whirry wind blew that night like it's impetuous enough to bisect the meridians of Earth in the fury of vengeance for some anonymous misdeed of the Itini's or the Jure's, whatsoever it was. It was all so strange, completely different because we were used to the gentle breeze that used to sing accounts of amours and a lot many anecdotes of amiability between Itini and Jure but that night was sinister, lurkingly sinister.

"Something's trampling the leaves much severely. Footsteps? Approaching nearer.."
(Dad rushes to open the door and in a flash, we are all in our unmown lawn.)

Gosh! A flock of Itini villagers were treading the path. They were portering their valuables and dragging their livestocks wearily, yet in haste.
"We can't wait for death to come and take us away. Have you felt the terror in the savage wilderness of this wind? It's just born, yet is fierce enough to detach these boulders off the cliff. We can't stay put anymore to make tally of forboded casualties. So, we're heading towards Parajuli village," said Prakash uncle to my dad and the flock marched away.

What still knocks me today is my dad's impudence. Why didn't he listen to uncle Prakash? What made him so reluctant to admit to his head, what uncle Hari had told him in the noon? Why was he jumping down their throats? Nonetheless, in a jiffy, all of us were on our own beds. After finishing up the due Maths assignments, I slid to my bed, but laid there, a wide awake me, who was just thinking around the bend about what had just happened a couple of hours ago. "God forbid! What if the Itini's happen to be true?"

The night was silent in the terror of 2 am. The benumbed dark was lamed by the luminiscent moon and I was safe under the infinity of sky that harboured the ethereal starshine, darting its impeccable share upon me, UNTIL this happened..
Suddenly some enormously heavy thing fell upon me. It struck me right on my chest, making me dyspneic. Hue and cry everywhere inside me but not a single syllable was let out of my throat. The squall from the inside was deafening but I was mute on the outside. I was sinking down in terror- deeper and deeper, hurtful,... more hurtful. The hurry-skurry dread drilled into me, squeezed my gut, clasped my throat and deafened me slowly, but all in once. How-be-it, I tried to struggle despite that enervative thing thrashed upon me. Phew! all my petty efforts petered out and I relapsed back into my phrenetic outcries, no one to hear, none to respond to, just the helpless me with my maimed voice.

" Mommy........Baba........ Debu..............."
"Mommy.........Baba..........Debu.............."
I tried to shout. I tried to let out my wail dolefully. I screamed so many never-to-be-heard  yells. But, all went in vain. I could do nothing but cry a river. I wasn't even sure whether I was alive or already delivered to the God's abode. All I could do and all I did was weaving beads of prayers -"God willing! Keep my family safe. Keep them alive." I could catch neither hide nor hair nor sight nor sound of them, or of anyone else. Somehow, I managed to fend off some load from my body and my lungs could finally let some air in and out. Was it the soot of desparity to live that I was stained with or the heftiness of the load that my bones lifted for quite a long time or both, it dragged me off to sleep and in nothing flat, everything was doomed again..

I was unapprised of any fall of night or any break of dawn because I was cloaked by darkness. How could I possibly know then that it had already been 2 days and 3 nights since I was buried down there, underneath my house. I didn't know how Jure was sacked outside. Didn't even know if she was still out there or the havoc had already gutted her and swallowed. On the other hand, I was famished, so hungry that I could devour on any comestible that's handy, which unfortunately was not. I knew if the suffocation, by an iota a chance, failed to render me death, the starvation would surely do me in, in fear of which, I crawled over the area on all my fours, foraging for food if there was any. Then my eyes laid on a small container,tight lidded, with salt inside it. When belly goes empty for days, you will barely think about the delicious eats but wish for anything to pacify your rumbling gut, and anything means ANYTHING. I hastily opened the lid and poured down a handful of salt into my mouth but couldn't swallow a gulp. I sought around for water but as luck would have it, there was hardly any drop. In its stead, I drank my own tears streaming down my cheeks, collecting them in the bowl of my palm. I guttled the salt of my tears. I guzzled the water of my tears. I survived on my tears..

The ravaged Kanle cliff..

Boom! I heard something blast so viciously loud like it was meant to shatter a colossal mountain into powders. 4 in a row. I wondered what it was. Could it be the rescue team? I bursted out- " HELP! HELP! HELP!". Once again, my shriek turned god-awfully futile. I wished I were dead already. Not even a trifle of hope existed in the scads of desparity. I longed to die once and for all but the Almighty seemed to have desired more of my affliction that he, the great, shot me down to yet another sleepless sleep. I dreamed of Debu, the most important little boy of my life, my brother. He was mild, warm hearted and as gentle as willow, unsinful and untainted. His petty little creaking sound resonated like soft breeze in my ears, so subtle, I craved for more and more of it. Then I saw Madhav in my dreams, the boy I had fallen for. His soft curls, his smirk and his simper, his beautiful face, and his tender loving care. Oh! I missed every tiny details of him and had my heart sunk into gusts of grievous emotions I couldn't let go of. I saw my mother braiding my hair and dad axing timber outside. I saw them smiling upon me, telling me- Devi, you've got to be strong, our child. You've got to live. You've got to live.ot to live.

Another turbulent burst woke me up. 3 in a row this time, not so very remote. Infact, the last one was so close that it gave my body a violent shake. To my wretched-fate-turned-good in the end, it made a peephole right above the pit I was buried in through which I cried- Help! Help!. A group of policemen laid their eyes on me, perhaps the rescue team they were, pulled me up, all covered in muds and filths, stinking not less than an amass of dead corpses, a semi-conscious me. I somehow gathered my sanity and looked around. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I wanted to cry so hard only if I had the strength in stock. Everything was gone. No thing had remained. Jure was slaughtered already just like an innocent beast whose head has just been chopped off its neck. The landslide of Kanle had halted the rush of the gigantic Sunkoshi and thus inundated all of Jure. I could see nothing around me but the furious Sunkoshi, the ravaged Kanle and the remains of demolished Jure far and wide. At a distance, there laid two corpses,one of my mother and the other of Debu. She was tormented to death, her body and clothes all mudded. Debu laid there unmoving, as quiet as still water, as cold as a lump of ice and as grey as the sky overshadowed with sullen clouds. All those heartaching sights broke me to pieces I could never gather. All those dreadful sights thrashed me fragile and weightless to ponder what worse could ever happen. I lost everything under the sun once and for all. Cold stream rushed down my nerves making me feel paraplegic all of a sudden, blurring everything in front of my eyes, letting cold sweat run down my forehead and whacking me back onto the ground, half-dead, next to my mother's corpse.

The other day when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a hospital bed, wrapped in whitish-blue gown, sorrounded by the health personnels and their bedside manners. Uncle Hari was sitting next to the bed, looking at me with such contemptuously pitiable eyes like I was the one who had unreckoned his warning, the night before the catastrophe, instead of Baba. He held me in his arms and I couldn't resist outletting the bloods of pain and sobs out of my arrowed heart. I fell into a fit of shedding stream of water off my tear bags. I wept dolefully loud with heaving chest like I was intending to weep to death, complaining for my survival against the disaster to God that he should have let me be with my dead parents in the death-land for I would not have to be left alone to grieve alone by myself in the day today, the morrow and further days to come in my wrecked lonely life. But then, having uncle Hari pour down all his empathy on me, consoling me to rebuild my life from then for the sake of my dead parents if not for me, the fit of loud sobs slowly subsided. I recalled what mommy and Baba had told me in my dreams, wiped off my tears and tried collecting every pieces of me making myself believe to commence building my own lego.

Did I ever be able to come out of this humongous grief, I would perhaps already be in my deathbed for this is not a nightmare I happen to dream of some random night and the following morning I would forget of BUT a tormenting phase of my life with the lowest ever falls I can and shall never ever rise of, until the last whiff of my breath. I shall never have my mother embrace me tightly while I tell her about my difficulties and troubles. I shall never get to see Debu riding on back of Baba, giggling giddily and hopping friskily on his shoulders with that happy-go-lucky countenance. I shall nevermore be endeared by Madhav and shall ever so remember his stupid unhumorous jokes as a bittersweet nostalgia. I shall never have myself sleep under that roof that sheltered me for eighteen whole years and had itself trampled under the earth just alike a crumpled piece of paper. But I shall live with every ounce of pain nailed in my heart and etched into my memory for now and ever. I shall start over afresh alike the sun dawning anew. Gradually, the agitation in my head demoted and I felt an itch to once again look at the running world outside, which never procrastinated irrespective of the hundreds of lives and the hundred thousands of possessions, that the horrid disaster took away. I staggered towards the window and uncurtained it. A newborn sun with an orange bonnet on its head was peeping through the horizon beaming juvenile rays atop me. A new dawn was breaking in the yellow pallor of the morning mist...

What about life?

 WHAT ABOUT LIFE??

I remember a day when I was in my 6th standard. It was a gloomy day outside and perhaps the lesson we were about to begin had some contents related to life. Mam Prava, as we used to call her
was our teacher who used to teach us Nepali and it was her class. Having been seated on a first bench in the class, she came straight towards me and asked me what I had thought life was.
Gross! it feels so embarrassing to say what I had said at that moment and probably you will laugh out loud after knowing what I had replied. Well, I said- LIFE IS STRUGGLE. How come life be a
struggle to a girl in 6th standard who barely does even know what the complete meaning of life is? (Ha! Ha!) Because that's what she had been hearing from people around, as a definition of life
or maybe, THE definition of life. Is it because alike every other child, she  was in the trend to say LIFE IS STRUGGLE, reckless what she means by it? Or is it because she belonged to an age
group, when no child  has a perception of his/her own but makes what s/he listens hither-thither as his/hers. Yes, ridiculous it is but we've all been through that phase, haven't we? I am pretty
sure, you must have had some of such glossal great quotations that you have shed forth when you were in that age which you are not so proud of, if you look aback now. Lest, you sure need to put
a little effort to pertain to your memory. Well, so and such was mine.

To the day, I have never been able to uncover the meaning of life. I mean the real meaning of life. Now, when I look back to the time I have emerged from, I feel like I can make innumerable
definitions of so. Life had been mamma's endearment when I was an infant and when I grew up to a toddler, life was dad's shoulder. And as I grew up older, it was all about plays and
amusements, to frolic around and so on. Ascending, as I went on chasing growth, "levity, sportiveness, gayety, ecstasy, volatility" became my new definition of life or so of my teen- a healthy
teen. However, its not that life was not proved irksome at times. Then again, the definition altered and swerved towards anxiety, vexation, solicitude and constraining stiffness. Thus, hitherto
I have not actually been within the boundary of cogitability about life and I believe, the day when I can summarise all the definitions and make a concrete precision, will probably be the last day
of my life because until that time, I would still be seeking new reckonings about it everyday and perhaps every single moment. For now, I give it a name called EXPERIENCE.

Life is PENDULOUS.Sometimes we get swing to the blissful moments of life. Sometimes we are driven forcefully towards the unpacific ventures. Sometimes it seems as clear as the  framework
of snowflakes strapped on the pinus tree outside my door and sometimes its as dark as the rage of vengeance. Never as simple as its seen. Never as easy as it seems. A lot many thousand faces
soon as we walk into the crowd. Half of them have that smile worn and half reflect that sorrowful transactions and textures of unhappiness. But just seeing that we can't analyze the actual
place they belong. We can't say whether they came out of the darkest closet of their lives or they are floating on cloud nine. The pretty faces with the liveliest smile might bear the  thundrous
incidents they can never come out of but still they don't show. Maybe they just hide it somewhere inside until it gets lost inside their lungs, trying to prove they are concrete, however never let
it ouflow to the world. To the contrary, those delved with unhappy faces might have a better life. Plunged into the tornado of bad fortunes, some people even start thinking that this is how they
gotta live- FATESPAT. That is their plate and for the rest of their life, they just have to get stirred wherever it drives them. NINE BILLION FACES HIDE NINE BILLION STORIES. The more
you try to understand, the more you will get lost into each's maze. There is lot more than what you see, way lot.. There is lot more inside one's peevishness and lot more behind one's charm. If
you think you can know someone to the fullest, to the innermost, then its just a delusion you are living with.
               
We try, we fail. Some of us get up and try getting hold of the time again while some of us get afraid of getting back up because we are threatened by the fear of another failure. Fear and more
fear. Thats what drives us away from our dreams or most suitably our goals. And then a lot many things hover inside our tiny heads for the big ones are owned by those brilliant studs who could
make up to their dream at once and who are regarded as the gems on Earth. And what else, we are trapped again in the tornado of dilemmas and more dilemmas. Should I try doing that thing
again? May be I make it this time? Or Should I just quit this because it ain't my cup of tea? Should I try figuring out whats my instinct? Gross! Hell no more questions. Once, I had read some
lines on a novel- REVOLUTION 2020 by Chetan Vagat. I don't exactly remember the line but it somehow meant that every babies' genes are not THE EINSTEIN's clone. And whats ridiculous is
most of our parents are too  reluctant to understand this fact while their own blood keep persuading them relentlessly. Nevertheless, we are all set to move, to go wherever fate takes us holding
that unspoken goal to reach the star someday, within.

    STELLAR DREAM

STARS DART FORTH THEIR LUMINOSITY
A WIDE AWAKE ME IS COMPELLED TO GAZE
THESE KEEN EYES IN WAIT OF STELLAR DREAM
TO GET FULFILLED AND OUTSHINE ITS RAYS

ALIKE THE SPLENDOR THE SUN EMITS
ALIKE THE NEBULAE EXPLODING BRIGHT
I HAVE A DREAM WHERE THE 'I' FITS
PATIENT TO GLEAM ON THE TIME RIGHT

I AM A DREAMER, I DREAM FOR GOOD
AIN'T NO VAIN,THE SCHEMES THEY HOLD
I AM AN OPTIMIST, I HOPE HIGH HOOD
THE EVIL WILL FLEE AWAY,SO WILL THE COLD

I'LL SHOW YOU HOW,THAT DAY WILL COME
MY ADORNED, LIKE A SPLENDOR, GLEAM
CONSTELLATING ZEAL, CONTORTIONS GONE
THAT DAY I'LL LIVE MY STELLAR DREAM !!


Isn't the diameter of all of our pupil the same? Doesn't it dilate in doom and constrict so prettily in light? Yes. Indeed, it does. Sure, its the only thing that reflects whether we are in doom or in
happy blooms, either it be you or me. But then, its all in our hand whether we keep staying in the doom never trying to come out to explore the world outside ours or start craving for the
illumination because we are the one who own the authority to dispose ourselves of the interest vested upon us, within us. Often, our supremacy doesn't allow us to realize our wrong-being for
blaming comes out as an easy alternative. But as its said what goes around comes back around, our Karma finds us out anyway. We, wise creatures may be stone-blind but our Karma. So, what I
intend to discourse is, in the hoard of seeking lumination, may we not loose our humanity and may we not digress from mankind.
               
Alan Watts once said- "Making plans for future is of use only to people who are capable of living completely in the present." It stirs us up to reasoning whether we want to be the ones who
preplan their future for a better existence of theirs and their descendents in the days tomorrow or the ones who live today to unfold their existence in the running days in a complete manner.
However, since a dark cloud often betokens a storm, our way of living today sure does foreshow our upcoming days. So who have you decided to be? A better liver today? Or a worrier of the
days you have never witnessed or PRECISELY, unaware if its ever going to be witnessed???

                             
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Live your love, live your life

(NARRATING A WOMAN IH HER GOLDEN JUBILEE WAS INDEED A DIFFICULT TASK SINCE IMAGINING THAT DEGREE OF SUSCEPTIBILITY TO EMOTIONS THAT SHE HAD HAD
DURING HER TEENHOOD AND TRYING TO PORTRAY IT IN A PIECE OF PAPER WAS ENTIRELY NEW TO ME, YET, THE FEELING I GAVE THE WOMAN POSSESSION TO IN HER TEENS,
GOT ME ARRESTED.)
                     I INDURATIZED MY HEART......

Neither was the spring I fell for someone, nor was the day since I started loving  that person, I am aware of, yet that very feeling that grew inside me is still so vibrant and alive and somewhere,
deep inside, it makes me feel acquainted to the fact that once I fell in love too. Neither was it planned, nor was it forseen. It came like a stroke of breeze in my life- cool, yet so warm.
Perhaps, it was nothing, but a tender throb but then it impinged my heart so deep that it made me start loving the transition.

Until the time, I started encoding my emotions in this piece of paper, its exactly 30 years, 5 months and 17 days since we've lost each other's hold.( U know what i mean.) 3 years prior to that,
I met him in my college function. Moreover,by this time, you must have merely calculated my age then. I was seventeen. Well, a sensitive and refinedly voluptuous season in every girls' lives if
the sentence is to be given emphasis to. Seventeen- the age when you hardly have control over your feelings. More precisely, its no less than an hour of travail especially when you get trapped
amidst that frantic and crazy dilemma of either holding in or letting it flood out to the world, against which you always develop this sarcastic perceptions at the very age. You don't need a
concrete reason to float high on cloud nine but also the tiniest of the tiny issues are not proved inadequate, the next second, to make you feel as small as a crumbled glass or a crumpled piece of
paper. Now, employ yourself to reckon the alteration of feelings that a SEVENTEEN has- totally swerving and capricious. You will never really be aware of the digression that the next turning
might bring because as an experienced old lady now, I have realized that being seventeen is all about not being able to enshrine any of your conceptions within stability and thus getting trapped
in the trellis of ephemeral realism. Most probably, this is why no teen can go the whole hog in any work.

That first encounter with him is still so fresh in my head. Those sparkling brown eyes that caught mine, that tiny speckle on the left cheek of his whitish complexioned face, the curls on his
head, and a mark of cut on his chin. Oh! I noticed every single details of that face. To my surprise, after all this time, how come it still possesses an original vigor in my memory? How come it
didn't fade away along with my age? In a hair's breadth, a whiff of air rushed my lungs and I found my heart was fluttering. Well, now you will probably say I fell in love at first sight. However,
I didn't know instantly.Maybe, it was just an infatuation- just inchoated, yet to be developed. The image was just not going off my head, until I discovered he was my classmate, my
goodness, my desk-mate. Gradually, all those uneasy yet lovely, strange yet desirable emotions invaded me all at once. Time passed by. We became friends and then lovers. I fell in love with him
more and more everyday and so did he with me. Life was beautiful. We were beautiful and we were appreciating the bestowal of god's graces upon us and enjoying every dainty blithe spirit of
youth.

Stupid of me, I used to set down in a diary about what I felt of him, of us. Nevertheless, I never had the valor to express in-person. Once, I even wrote this poem during which all that was
imbibed in my head was his image and the moments we shared. Plato said it right- " Every man is poet when he is in love." (Ha! Ha!)


YOUR LOVE GETS SONANT IN THE CAVITY OF MY HEART
ME FINDS ME SMILING WITH NO REASONS ALIVE
YOUR EMBRACE SO TIGHT, YET SO REFINED
LIFTS ME HIGH IN SKY, N' I FLOAT N' I SURVIVE

MY CHEEKS SUFFUSE WITH BLUSHES
WHEN YOU PULL ME BY MY WAIST
MY HEART FLUTTERS WITH RUSHES
WHEN YOU CARESS ME THE BEST

YOUR TITTER SO CUTE ON MY JARGON
AND YOUR PUNCHLINES- A JOKE
YET, YOUR LOVE SET ME TAKEN
AND YOUR PAMPERS GET ME SOAK

TIME WHEN YOU ANNOY ME
LIKE A BUGBEAR SO DULL
AND MY CLAMOR HURTS YOUR EAR
YET YOUR INNOCENCE MAKES ME FALL

THAT QUAKE ON YOUR GUITAR
OH! HOW IT IMPELS MY EAR
LIKE AM LIVING THAT MOMENT
MY REMEMBERED,
YOUR LOVE-DRURY SO DEAR
DEAR LOVEE,
LOVE LIKE YOURS IS RARE...

That person who gave me the best three years of my life, never knew that somewhere, someone was writing for him, someone was inscribing all her emotions in legible characters and thence
remained just so forever because thenadays, we did not have technologies like my children have these days, that could have helped me. To me, expressing in-person was an insuperable
impossibility.That is the reason why, everything I wanted him to know just got lost into my lungs or some only dwelt in the columns of my diary. But still, he knew that I loved him and I knew
he loved me back. This was all that mattered and we needed nothing to be happier and more content until an outburst of tumultuous storm knocked our lives. The storm's name was castism
which chastised us for our uncommitted sins and thrashed us apart. They said that just because I was CHHETRI and he belonged to a BAISYA background, us, being together was a crime and
that we were criminals in the eyes of society and GOD. Oh! these so-called theist are ridiculous.  What the progenitors had already set, are always to be pursued without any complaints and
impediments regardless of the fact whether they are just or prejudiced. No wonders, as far as in us lies, we did the same. We became  the victim of jeopardy. We knelt down in front of our
erroneous dogmas. We lost.

On this day, I feel glad after looking at the reformations that the society has made- reformations of hypocrisy, reformations of doctrines, reformations of thoughts. Now, when I peek back
into the graffiti of pain inscribed in my heart, I find it so small, so trifling, that I willfully refuse to take notice of it because here is this comfort and relief that my descendants will never
have to suffer what I confronted. All those feudal principles have lasped and the generation today, has genuine right to choose love and stand for it. Although I could not cherish my love for
life, my children will(rightfully). All these years, I have always hoped for his best, wished for his best. And now I feel like I would do anything just to take a single glance at his face. Just to see
his wrinkled cheeks, I would travel thousand miles. He must have lost those beautiful curls by now. Those sparkling brown eyes that I have always loved, must glisten in a thin layer of tears
scattered all over his sclera. I would give anything just to see him in his golden jubilee. I don't know whether I will ever see him again, but I am willing to spend the remaining fraction of my life
with the hope. So, hey you youths out there, you are lucky that the society doesn't set restrictions in your love now. You have an open gateway towards hap and happiness. Thus, take it as a
message from an old lady- "LIVE YOUR LOVE, LIVE YOUR LIFE". Live every day like its a boon to you from god and that you will never have its jamboree tomorrow nor day after it. There is no
 hard nut to crack because there is no thing that can pulverize your zest, no thing that can subdue your zeal and to the top, there is barely a thing that can enfeeble your love as long as you
vow to protect it.

                                                                                                               





                                                                                 



















1

Our social abode

                 OUR SOCIAL ABODE

MY mom once said to me- I have survived the society, kept up with people who wanted me this way, and followed every laws they wanted me to abide by. You are my child and you are bound to
follow the trend.
I was listening to her like a dunce, totally being unable to cogitate what she was talking about or probably that 'just been a teen' didn't want to pay any obedient heed to what was being
betokened at the very moment. I left the room with domain of puzzles though, trying to superficially frame all my doings throughout the day.

A week later, a relative showed up with this noxious look- a missile weapon of arrow, if I am asked to define, that seemed to have been projected, intending to deeply thrust into my esteem.
She sure did come up with ample preparations to leave me self-abased in front of my mom, which I realized after she introduced her first affront against me. Well, unless the offence was
exaggerated, all of her purposed contempts were territorialized within her sight of me and my best friend, who is a boy, passing by the pavement, holding each other's hands. And, what
happened afterwards or what was supposed to happen after her lofty scorns against me, need not be explained if you live in a NEPALI SOCIETY..

Its not a feigned story or any of such apologue through which I intend to excite wonder on you. Its just a mere reality of our social abode. We dwell in the society where a girl is seen with
scornful eyes of contempts if she is caught up walking, holding hand of some guy next to her. Nevertheless, the blockheads with those scornful eyes don't care to think who that guy might be,
 not even once and no wonder, as a consequence, whats questioned is her character as a daughter. Poor her, she frequently encounters those sarcastic reproaches and the most of contemptuous
 suspicion with the least of belief upon her. Just the other day of her commendation for being academically excellent, she is ousted. Why? Because, she seems to cross the preset boundary of our
 so-called ethical society which is actually judged by someone who has no idea of the mere truth, yet pretends to be a know-everything while the reality turns out to be something out of the blue.
 And here comes the situation where i think of using 'LITTLE KNOWLEDGE IS DANGEROUS' onto my statements over their unreasonably keen intelligence  and responding their comments with
objections. However, the thought remains only inside my brain because my traditional norms impede me in the name of 'respect to elders' despite the fact, whether they are just or hold
innumerable erroneous dogmas.

Neither recently nor several days back, this thought or more precisely, this realization stroke my mind that having been born in a Nepali society, especially, we girls can never explain our genuine
friendship with some boy, to the original survivors of this abode because their preset contrivances always draw finishing strokes before we could actually explain the kind of relations we
uphold - of friendship. Contrastingly, they misinterpret it with the name of love-affairs. I mean, is it necessarily important that a girl and a boy needs to be IN LOVE just to love each other
when the love they share could just be of friendship? Do people need to tag it with some silly and witty criticism? Seriously, I don't understand why people act smarter than google when they
are actually sluggishly insensible..

No matter how much we vaunt about the 21st century we have jumped in, leaping far from the stone age, at many points, we are still that creature who draws different columns for a boy and
a girl. We continue to be an illustration of a thick-head who still believes in the contradiction of BEING A BOY and BEING A GIRL.To the top, they, who seem to rule the society, rename the
rules that are supposed to be imposed on HUMANS as a whole, as that need to be pursued distinctly by a boy and a girl. For an instance, RIGHT TO OPINION is a fundamental human right.
Exercising so, if a boy speaks or argues on a particular topic he is discontent of, then his reasoning is considered to apprehension. To the contrary, if a girl does that very thing, starting at
her doorsteps, then she is bound to hold in her opinions without letting it outflow to the world outside because it questions her 'being a girl' identity or even her character. That's because
she is always known for her honey-mouthed character and that she should maintain for the whole of her life just to please the world outside.

In some nook of the world, there are countries, where begetting before getting married is not an issue and here's Nepal, where every eyes seem to spy over any girl-boy relationship with
an abundance of scrutiny. On any account, I am not trying to say that the perceptions that the westerns hold are reasonable and ours are not.Well, i would be offending my etiquette and
principles, if I said that the values being held by our society are unjust. All that I intend to inculcate in every heads of ours is that we need to keep abreast of the time and the generation
and draw a line to our skepticism. Probably, some of you say that thoughts have changed these days, people think widely and sketch everything to reasoning, but, is it really on accordance to
reality. Think with broader senses and I assure, you will realize that all that you think what the fact is, is just a phantasm because those who we think have complete trust on us, can have
their trust tremble in a second just because of some unpolished back-biting against us that they hear. Hence, at the ultima, we, adolescents are always pleading and begging for our elders'
trust  upon us.

Alike the ring that encompasses a finger, overanxious concern and unveracious reasoning have encompassed the range of vision of the people of our society and the prey is none, but us.
Is it really that hard for our parents to see us(girls) hanging out with a person who we call our intimate friend; just friend? Is it because they are over-anxious about us or is it because
they fear of the outsiders speaking irrationally about us? This question always bring me to asking myself ' Where does the trust they always brag about go then?' 'Does that set the
limitation here?' Nevertheless, with the most hopeful note, we will expect to be understood and believed for the truth we hold always and forever. In a nutshell, may the bond that the elder
and the younger residents of our social abode, never strain apart because of fragility that these kind of miscomputations might bring. The reckoning is never bad but the way is false.
Henceforth, its high time, we need to change for better in a comprehensive way so that all of us can sojourn in an adorned abode....

                           

Roving by the edge

ROVING BY THE EDGE

I WALK ON THE SAND, EVERY GRAIN OF IT
THE TIDE APPROACHES AS I HOVER
BESEEMS IT DRAWS A MESSAGE TO ME
MESSAGE FROM THE WOODS, UNKNOWN
OR PERHAPS IT FLED AWAY FROM TIMBERS
IS IT A NOTE FROM A DISTANT HORIZON,
FORLORN'S ME, THRUMMED IN PERPLEXITY
STILL I STAY PUT ON MY RECKONS
WHILE THE EBB OF TIDE RETURNS

I SQUAT ON THE BEACH LONELY
UPON THE HAMS OF MY BODY NIMBLE
THE HAMMER OF MY PAST HITS ME
AND THE MEMOIRS OF MY YESTERYEARS
I ESCAPED FROM ITS ARREST HURTFUL
HURDLED AWAY FROM THE INCLOSURE
BUT, THE TIDES HERE UNDULATE EVERY SUCH
AND WEARS ME OUT WITH HEFTY SHOULDER...

Childhood

We all do have those reminiscences of our childhood thinking of which gives us cheerful buzz...

CHILDHOOD 

MEMORABILIA,WHEN I WAS A CHILD
ENTIRE DOMESTICATION, YET SO WILD
WHEN MOM'S CUDDLE WAS THE ONLY LOVE ON EARTH
WHEN TROUBLE WAS A WHAT? ONLY DAYS OF MIRTH

WHEN THE ONLY PAIN WAS A BLEEDING KNEE
WHEN GAIN WAS A CANDY FOR FREE
WHEN HEIGHT WAS ONLY DAD'S SHOULDER
WHEN STRUGGLE WAS TO WALK,BEING A TODDLER

WHEN RIDE WAS A COSY PRAM
RECKLESS,WHERE YOU'LL BE TAKEN
WHEN FUN WAS TO SHOUT WITH SENSELESS ENTHUSE
CAREFREE ABOUT ANYONE'S PERCEPTION

WHEN FREEDOM WAS TO GET WINGED AND FLY
ALIKE THE BIRDS THAT FLEW SO HIGH
WHEN ASPIRATION WAS TO SWIM DEEP DOWN BLUE
ALIKE THE FISHES THAT MADE IT THROUGH

WHEN ACQUISITION WAS A WAVY FROCK
AND HEAD HOLDING A COMPLEMENTARY BONNET
WHEN POSSESSION WAS THE DEAREST FRIENDSHIP
WITH TOMMY,WHO YOU CALL UR PET

WHEN STUPID WORDS SEEMED A BON MOT
WHO COULD EVER STOP YOU CHATTER
WARNINGS ON STACK FROM TEACHERS
WHY WOULD YOU CARE?YET NO MATTER

WHEN AWE WAS A TEACHER'S FROWN
SOMETIMES,MADE YOU START A BLEAT
HIS FOREHEAD ON CREASE OH MY GOD
SINCE HE GETS UR ASSIGNMENTS INCOMPLETE

WHEN BREAK WAS EVERY SATURDAY
BECAUSE ITS AWAITED,THE ONLY WEEKEND
NOT FOR PARTYING LATE,BUT NO SCHOOL
THE ONLY DAY TO BREAK THE TREND

WHEN MELODY WAS IN THE RHYMES
YOU NEVER NEEDED A VOICE SO SWEET
WHEN MUSIC WAS TO BLABBER WITH MATES
THE SCHOOL PRAYER,U NEVER COULD QUIT

WHEN LIVING WAS GETTING LOVED
GETTING PAMPERED AS IT SHOULD
FORGETTING DOESN'T SEEM POSSIBLE 
CAUSE FLAVORED SWEET WAS OUR CHILDHOOD..

Teens

            TEENS!!

EMOTIONS BEING PROVOKED BY BETRAYAL

GUILTLESS HEADS INCITED BY VENGEANCE

CONVICTION OF SINS NEVER COMMITTED

ARE WHAT CLEAVE TEENS TO VEHEMENCE

SANK IN THE FEAR THAT REMAINS UNNAMED

SKULKING OUT THE WAY TO ESCAPE THE SCENE

COMPLAINTS ON STACKS,ALWAYS BEEN BLAMED

DO MORE REASONS AVAIL TO MAKE 'EM MEAN?

SURE HE'S A FLYER WHEN HE'S UP ON CLOUD

AN UNDOUBTED RIDER WHEN HE LANDS ON EARTH

HOLDING HIS SILENCE IN THE NOISY CROWD

HE'S SEEKING A NAME TO EXPOUND HIS BIRTH

CHAIN OF NORMS AND THE OATHS THEY SET

SQUEEZE HIS NECK,NEARLY MAKE HIM DIE

THEY DON'T OWN THE RIGHT TO SPIT HIS FATE

SO BREAK THE WALLS, 'CAUSE HE WANTS TO FLY

SO WHAT HE DON'T STAND ON THEIR PRESET CONTRIVANCE

SO WHAT HE MAKES A LEAP ON HIS FAMILY'S RUE

HE IS A RACER,WANTING TO CREATE A DIFFERENCE

BUT WE'LL NE'ER UNDERSTAND,'CAUSE WE DON'T FIT IN HIS SHOE !!!

Note to my son

NOTE TO MY SON

WHEN I SAW YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME
THE PRETTIEST FACE EVER SEEN

MY SON, YOU ADORNED MY PALM
AS I FETCH YOU CLOSE TO MY CHEST
THAT MOTHERHOOD BORNE IN ME
AND THE HAPPINESS YOU SHOWERED
MY SON, YOU MELTED DOWN MY CRUSTS
AS YOUR "MOM" GAVE ME THE BEST

I'VE SEEN YOU STRUGGLE AS A TODDLER
PICKED YOU EVERY TIME YOU FALL
I'VE WATCHED YOU DELIGHTING THE RACE
IN THAT TINY PRAM PA BROUGHT HOME
I'VE BEEN A MATE TO YOUR TEEN
PROTECTED YOU FROM BRAWL
I'VE GIVEN MY LIFE TO PAVE YOUR PACE
DEAR SON, 
SO YOU WON'T BE WHIFFED BY STORM.

WHEN I'LL BE GONE THE MORROW
YOU WON'T HAVE A CHEST TO HIDE IN
TO SOB ALL YOUR GRIEF OUT
NOR YOU'LL FIND A SHOULDER ROBUST
TO LAY YOUR HEAD ON
NO LAP TO LIE DOWN
AND FALL ASLEEP TO LULLABY
BUT MY SON, DARE YOU NOT WORRY
BECAUSE BESTOWING MY LOVE
TO PROTECT YOU FROM DEVILS
I'LL BE REACHING YOU VIRTUALLY
I'LL BREAK THE WALLS, FALL FROM HILLS
AND SIT NEXT TO YOU, SMILING AT YOUR VICTORY.