The Other

I am not in that society where we respect differences. I live in that society where being different is like a crime. There is no soft corner or warm space for those who are littlebit different from “so-called” normal. We love to hear same type of thoughts, we like to see same types of people, I don’t know what is the cause?  But our society loves linearity. It never gives respect to those who have a different thought, those who look different.

Sometimes when I see or analyze myself, I found myself the other. I do not look like what the girl expect to be looked like. I have brown skin, I am less than five fit, I am less than 40 kg, I am tiny than the normal. But I love my brown skin. It’s ridiculous when people say, “Why don’t you put lit bit powder in your face?” “Why not fairness cream?” I love my body shape. It’s boresome when people say “Why don’t you wear heels?” “Why don’t you eat more?” Really, these types of questions bother me. I have to love myself whatever I am. I have liberty to enjoy my life, being myself. But the culture of othering is widely prevalent in our culture too. Although I am unknown about the Eastern theory about othering. In West, it is also called as stereotyping. But Staurt Hall’s idea about stereotyping is somehow applicable in our culture too. Basically, he talks about how difference plays important role in identity formation. And how is the representation of ‘difference’ linked with questions of power? 

I know colour of my skin, height, weight, has nothing to do with what I think. What I believe.  What I understand. Similarly, I know these things are wrong reasons to like someone or judge someone in any case. But people judge us comment us prioritizing those things, demonizing the positivity. They say whatever come in their mind. But what goes through on that particular person always becomes between the lines. Especially, those experiences are depicted in my diary in this way:

“I am the other. I am nobody. I do not want to include myself in any box. In any philosophy. In any ideology. I belong here but really do not belong. Who laughs many times but really do not smile. I am not a rose. I am not a marigold. Alas, I am nobody, nobody’s dream, nobody’s ambition but I am me.

Goodbye Dear Sixteen

Sometimes 2016 says goodbye to me. I also say goodbye. But almost 15 days are left for official goodbye. While talking about 2016, I had many emotional ups and downs. Let's start with positive things. I have completed my master degree. I think this is one positive thing. But I went through many downs. Many obstacles. Many emotional exams. After many years I again started living alone. Lots of peers pressure. Lots of career tension. Last but not the least is that again I started feeling alone, companyless. In fact, second half challenged me a lot.

   Every end is challenging like every start. I think, 2016 was the end of my formal study might be because of that it was challenging. Might be it was not challenging. But I think it was more disgusting, more loner than 2015. But some beautiful memories are there. I can’t forget trekking. Especially second day’s trip.

            And one of the awesome memories is a journey of thesis writing. Everyone knows thesis writing is not an easy task. Editing own’s writing like an examiner, being a critic of oneself, proofreading and finding own mistakes is a hilarious job. And I got this hilarious memory this year, that was awesome in retrospect. Previously, I assumed that after finishing thesis I may hate Sirisko Phool. But I again in love with Sirisko Phool. That is amazing. And funny thing is that again I am in love with Parijat.

            I already mentioned that it was more challenging than 2015.  It was challenging because of career tension. While studying we never imagine we have to wait for many months for a single job. But the reality is a reality. And I faced the same reality.

            Apart from that, all the things were normal. Same type of routine. Like previous years, in 2016 too, I was a student. I started each day with books. No progress at all. Same type of linearity in lifestyle.

            However, I am more hopeful with 2017. In the upcoming year, I want to add profession in my bio. I don't want to write the only student in front of my profession.  I  am fed up with the same type of daily routine. So, in 2017, I would like to gain something more. No more a continuation of a student life. In 2017, I am hoping for change. I want to do experiment with myself. I want to go far from my comfort zone.

            But every year comes with hope ends with frustration. But 2016 was not sweet like sweet sixteen. Although, I want grand farewell of it. So goodbye sixteen for all the love, all the cheerful and depressing memories. Memories of Chitlang and Kulekhani. Memories of thesis writing especially for the headache memory of viva.  And all the memories of TU.   All these memories are part of you. At last goodbye dear sixteen with lots of love. 

            

इतिहास

पानाहरु खाली छन्
शब्दहरु मौन छन्
तर  तिम्रो मात्र छैन् इतिहास
मेरो पनि छ
नहोलान् युद्धका कथाहरु
बहादुरीका उपन्यासहरु...
अंहका महाकाब्यहरु.......
म तिम्रो मुलुकमा प्रेमका अलिखित कविताहरु लेख्छु
म मातृत्वको प्रेमले ग्रस्त छु
तिमीजस्तो भातृत्वको कुरा गर्दिन
आज पनि हिजोजस्तै
हुनसक्छ मेरो क्षितिज
तिम्रो सयनकक्ष भन्दा सानो..........
म तिम्रो मुलुकको सानो मानिस हुँ
परिचयपत्रमा अझै तिम्रै नाम छ
तिम्रै नामले रंगिन्छु
तिम्रै नामले अल्निन्छु
नहोला मेरो छुट्टै इन्द्रेणि
छुट्टै शब्दकोश
अझै पनि कहिलेकाही तिम्रै शब्दहरु सापटी लिन्छु
र पनि तिम्रो मात्र छैन इतिहास
मेरो पनि छ
युद्धमा नरंगेको मेरो इतिहास
प्रेम मात्र प्रेमले पिडित छ ।

म केहि होइन

माफ गर

आज म सपनाको कुरा गर्दिन

तिमीलाई थाहा छ 

वा छैन

म इन्द्रेणिको कुनै रंग होइन

न हुँ गलामा सजिने कुनै सुन्दर फूल

म गूलाफ होइन

न सयपत्री

म हिमाल होइन

न नदि.… 

वा तिमी बुझ्न सक्छौ

म तिमीले देख्ने सपनाकी परी होइन

न तिम्ले प्रत्येक दिन आँखामा सजाउँने भिड हुँ

म केहि होइन

न फेसबुक वालमा "सुन्दर" को उपमा पाउँने सुन्दरी

वा ओठमा रातो पोत्ने किशोरी

न हुँ हरेक दिन प्रशसाको उपहार पाउँने कुनै भाज्ञमानी

म केहि होइन

न तिम्रो भूतपुर्व प्रेमिका

न हुनेवाला

वा तिम्रो कल्पनामा सजिएकी जीवनसंगिनी

म केहि होइन

न सपना.........

न विपना...............

न भविस्य............................

धिप धिप गर्दै बलेको मैनबत्ती हुँ म
बल्न पनि सक्छु
नबल्न पनि सक्छु
पग्लिएँ भने बलेछु भन्ने बुझ्नु
नत्र कठोर यथार्थको पर्याय ।

यात्राको अन्त्य

थाहा छैन
यात्राको सुरुवात के थियो
मुस्कान वा रोदन ?
भन्नुपर्ने केहि थिएन
हामी चुपचाप बस्न सक्थ्यौं
पहाड, हिमाल र मैदान जसरी
रुख, फूल र पात जसरी
तर हामी गुमसुम बसेनौं
आँखाका भाकाहरु पढ्यौं
मुटुका चालहरु सुन्यौं
थाहै नपाइ
हामी मौन रहेर पनि मौन रहेनौं
कहिलेकाही नदीजसरी गड्गडायौं
पानी बनेर
कहिलेकाही फूलजसरी फक्रर्यौ
मुस्कान बनेर
यदाकदा सपनाको रंगिन क्यानभासमा
सैर गर्यौ रंग बनेर
थाहा छैन यात्राको अन्त्य के हुँनेछ................
 आज म गन्तब्यको चिन्ताले
ब्याकुल छु ।

स्वतन्त्रता, मुक्ति, मोक्ष वा अचल्तिको बाटो ?

रंग र बेरंग बिच
युद्ध चलिरह्यो
जीवनको आफ्नै परिभाषाभित्र
मलाई एउटा रोज्नुथियो
बेरंग रोजिदिएँ ।

थुप्रै रंगहरुसँग घुल्न नसक्नुको पिडा
वा इन्द्रेणीसँगको दुश्मनी
हुनसक्छ रंगको आफ्नै मैफिलभित्र
बहिस्कृत हुनुको प्रतिसोध
मैले बेरंग रोजिदिएँ ......

थुप्रै थुप्रै सुन्दर रंगहरुबिच
असुन्दर हुनुको आत्माबोध
वा अनेकौ रंगलाई
बेरंग देख्ने दृष्टिभ्रम
हुनसक्छ रंगिनलाई रंगिन नमान्ने
मेरो आफ्नै जीवनभ्रम
मैले बेरंग रोजिदिएँ ।

आज जीवनको यही बिन्दुमा अडिएर
आफैँसँग सोधिरहेछु
रँगलाई त्यागेर बेरंग रोज्नुलाई के भनिन्छ
स्वतन्त्रता
मुक्ति
मोक्ष
वा अचल्तिको बाटो ?

हाडमासुको अक्षरबजारबाट

विचारको स्वाधिन परिधिभित्र रहेर
सफा सेतो कागजमा
लेख्ने, कोर्ने कैद गर्ने कुराहरु हुँदाहुँदै पनि
मौन रहन चाहेँ ।


 चेतनाको मौलिक शब्दकोसभित्र
सायद लेखिएको थियो
यो कागज, मसी र अक्षरको संसार होइन
यहाँ अक्षर कम
हाड, मासु र छाला बढी बुझिन्छ

यहाँ अक्षरहरु कम लेखिन्छ
जती लेखिन्छन्
कपाल नाक र आँखाहरु
लिपिस्टिक, गाजल र नेलपोलिसहरु ।

यहाँ अक्षरहरु मगजबाट जन्मदैनन्
जती जन्मन्छन्
स्तन, योनी र लिङ्गबाट
जती हुर्कन्छन्
हाड, मासु र छालाबाट ।

मौनताको सिङ्गो किताब साक्षी राखेर
किन किन आज
हाडमासुको अक्षरबजारबाट अर्को कालो झण्डा
आफैँबिरुद्ध देखाउँने रहर जागेको छ ।

I AM THAT IMAGE PEOPLE NEVER LIKE TO SKETCH

म कसैले नकोरेको चित्र हुँ सायद आफैँले पनि , this is the one line which I mostly use to explain myself. Or this is the final sentence I choose to explain myself. Explaining oneself is the hard job because people rarely want to understand oneself. Apart from that explaining oneself, is quite an egocentric job. People hardly feel comfortable to listen to others. So do I. That’s why sometimes I think that why to write about myself, it’s a foolish job. But diary writing habit compels me to write about myself. It’s all about one, who is so boring but writes about herself. One who never fits in any box but sometimes talks about convention and norms. One, who never got any best friend in childhood but sometimes writes about friendship. One, who is quite odd and has a contradiction in herself but sometimes opines about common agenda. This is all about that one who even doesn't know she has to write about herself or not.

Previously, I committed that next time I will not write about myself. But, I have to apologize with myself that today also I write about myself. So, you can call me egocentric. Individualistic. Boring. Or, you can call it a self- aggrandizement. It is all about boring continuation of a self-explanation. And it explores all my contradiction.

Mostly I like to explain about women’s world. Or that world which I feel comfortable or easy to explain about. Might be because it is my comfort zone. Might be because it does not demand further research. Might be. Might not be. I am not sure.

Lately, I am entering into my own experience. When I was a child Radio Nepal used to play one slogan, “Bihebari bis barsh pari” and that used to be in our mouth. And my family members used to ask me, “When will you get married?” I used to say when I will be twenty. That was the time when I used to see marriage as a very interesting thing. Funny.  Time changed. People changed. Now my own perception about marriage also changed. I am no more that little girl who believes in Cinderella and Fairy tale’s concept about marriage. Now, my own perception about marriage becomes more complex. Situation becomes more complex. 

Well, I am going to talk about twenty. Or the perception about marriage after twenty. Frankly speaking, twenty does not sound so interesting like sweet sixteen. I think everyone feels quite tough enough in twenty similarly after twenty. Especially in our society girls have to prepare for many things after twenty. Mostly family pressure for marriage. Career pressure. And people’s reaction on her personality if she does not fit in that category people imagine a girl could be.  If she does not meet that category people say she will not found any guy. She is an ugly daughter, nobody comes for. She will bourdain for her family and so on. I too have crossed the twenty and I too have listened those types of reaction on myself.

Our society supposed or takes marriage differently in the case of girl. Marriage always becomes a turning point in most of the girl's life.  In most of the cases after marriage, she has to compromise for a career, for family and every choice of her life. If she does not get married up to twenty-five, people tend to make many hypothesis. It is useless to talk about that here because we all know what are they. So, sometimes I think that Arundhati is literally right. Once in an interview, she said, “I was the worst thing a girl could be: thin, black and clever.” And I too found its worst thing, especially for girls. Particularly in our society.

As a member of society or as a girl I too have those kinds of experiences. When I revisit my own life, I found many experiences when my relatives said “ nobody comes for you because you are ugly. Or you have to compromise for your life partner because of your outlook and so on.” And next thing is that I never feel belongingness where I live, might be because of that I always feel out of box. I am an outsider because people rarely imagine their daughter, wife, sister even a girlfriend like me. Most of the time I considered myself an odd, an outsider. I am nobody, nobody’s dream, nobody’s smile, nobody’s ambition. Finally, I am that image people never like  to sketch perhaps me myself too.

बिदाइ

एउटा पारिलो मध्यान्नमा
तिमी भेट्टिएका थियौ
जसरी भेट्टिन्छन्
घाम र क्षितिज
पृथ्वी र ताराहरु

अनायासै हामी भेट्टियौ
जसरी भेट्टिन्छन्
फूल र भमराहरु
परेवाका जोडिहरु
नदिहरु संगम बनेर ।

देख्नु र साँच्चै मिल्नुको भेद कहिले मेट्टिएछ
थाहै भएन
जसरी भेट्टिन्छन् मसी र अक्षरहरु
रंग र कुचि
त्यसरी नै तिमी र म हामी भएछौं
इतिहासको एउटा स्वर्णिम कालाखण्डमा ।

आज तिमी भन्दैछौ
अब हामी छुट्टिनुपर्छ्
र छुट्टिनुको कालो महाभारतलाई
मैले बिछोड नमानि
यात्रा मानेर
तिम्रा लागी एउटा फराकिलो मूलबाटो रोजिदिएकी छु ।


अनि तिम्ले मेरो लागि
खुशी हुने एउटा सुन्दर महाकाब्य लेखिदिएकाछौ
र म त्यसैलाई तिमी ठानेर
बिदाइको हात हल्लाउँदैछु ।

अधिकार

जति तिम्रो हो यो आकाश 
त्यति हाम्रो नि हो
जती तिम्रो हो धर्ती 
त्यती हाम्रो नि हो 
कैद अकैद धेरै दृश्यहरु
साक्षी छन्
जति तिम्रो हौ तिमी
त्यती मेरो पनि हुँ म ।

म सफेद थिएँ

म सफेद थिएँ
रंग पोतीनुअघिको क्यानभाषजस्तो
कविता लेखीनुअघिको कागजजस्तो
मन साट्टिनुअघिको प्रेमजस्तो
अनायासै तिमी आयौ
सप्तरंगी रंगहरु बोकेर
थाहै भएन कुन दिन म तिम्रो रंगमा घुलेछु
र तिमीजस्तै रंगीन बनेछु
आज निक्कै समयपछि
जब आफ्नै सफेदपन चाहियो
जिजिबिषाका लागी
तब पहिलोपटक आफ्नै खोजिमा
यो कविता लेख्दैछु ।

It's hard, To Describe her

One day mummy said to me, “I could’ve been somebody, you know?” as usual I laughed and said, “yea, I know.” But that statement hunted me alot. I love her because she is my mother. But as a mother and a daughter we have a different type of relationship. And in different phases of life I understood her differently. In childhood, she has never been my inspiration. In those days I was quite closer to Buwa. He used to be my inspiration. I used to think he is more bold and intellectual than her. But I never tried to understand her separately. I used to fascinate more by him. In those days I had a misunderstanding that bold people were quite interesting than emotional one. Unlike that mummy used to cry in trivial matters. So, I used to be quite far from her. But, now when I think about her, I become quite emotional. Quite nostalgic. And sometimes I feel regret because of my inability to understood her. Now, she is my role model, she is my inspiration. Sometimes when we, friends talk about our mothers, I always tell, “I never have to look or search inspiration outside my family because my mummy is always there to inspire.”

            She has a skinny body, long black hair, and she always puts red lipsticks before going to an office. But I never like red lipsticks since childhood. Nowadays, sometimes I tell her, “Don’t use this red one na.” She became furious and tells that “you don’t know how to be beautiful” as always I laugh by listening to her reaction. Because I like her anger. Further, she tells me that, “your friends seem quite fashionable but you never know how to be beautiful and smart enough.”  As usual, I laugh. These are some funny, what can I say, interesting things about my mom. But throughout her her life she went through different obstacles. Sometimes I amused by listing her struggle for reading, her courage to start further study after ten year’ gap, her passion for reading and so on. Nowadays days when I listen to all those things I become speechless. I think she is more intellectual and bold enough than what I used to think about her before.

            When I was a child she was the only one women of our community who had higher education. She was the only one who used to teach her children. In those days she was always there to teach us, but I never realized her intelligence, I always think Buwa was more intellectual than a mummy. Nowadays when I think about my past, sitting alone, I remember my ignorance and laugh. I don’t need anybody to laugh with, I just laugh.

            Now, academically, I am more educated than her. Sometimes when she mispronounces anything, I correct her. Sometimes, she takes it easily, but sometimes her ego as a mother overlaps her and reacts, “Don’t teach me, I have pronounced correctly.” When she says so, as usual I laugh

            .Recently one day I told her, “One day I will pack my bags of books and paper. One day I will say goodbye to you. One day I will go away.” By hearing it, she cried and cried. I, too did not able to control myself. She cried like a small child separating with her mother.

            Today,  while writing about her, I really feel hard. It’s really hard to write about the mother. Words do not have that power to describe mother. Now I am numb, speechless, but I have tried one of the foolish things which I did not have to do..............

प्रेमपत्र र प्रेम

उपस्थितिको सिङ्गो कोलाजमा
तिमी थिएनौ
र पनि महशुस गरे तिम्लाई
हृदयको एउटा गुलाफ
तिमीलाई दिए यादहरु मार्फत
र भावनाको सिङ्गो कलमले
एउटा प्रेमपत्र लेखेँ ।


प्रिय प्रेमिला मन!
प्रेमदिवसको यस प्रेमिल अवसरमा
प्रेमिको हैसियतले
तिमीसँग केहि कुरा माग्दै छु
नाई! नभन्नु ।


प्रिय! हाम्रो सन्बन्ध तुसारोजस्तै रहेछ
जब हावा र बतास
हरु आउँछन्
सबै उडाएर लादा रहेछन्
तब दुखी प्रेम बाहेक केहि रहदैन हामीसँग
त्यसैले बताससँग पनि नडराउँने जब्बर हुँदैछु
प्रेमी निस्ठूरी भै नभन्नु ।

कहिलेकाही जब संसार बौलाउँछ
म आवाज उठाउँन सक्छु
एक्लो भएपनि
तिमीबिरुद्द पनि
तब हाम्रो प्रेमलाई बिर्सेर
भावनामा तेजाव नफाल्नु
संम्झनु एउटाै बाटो हिडे पनी हामी भिन्न यात्री हौँ भनेर ।

प्रिय यदाकदा म आफैसँग हराउन सक्छु
तिमीलाई आफ्नी मायालु नलागेर
एउटा सिङ्गो मनुष्य मात्र लाग्न सक्छ
तब यो सम्झनु की
त्यो सिङ्गो प्राणिभित्र
केहि तिमी हुनेछौ केहि म ।


मेरो प्रिय मान्छे
अरुलेझै तिमीले
मेरो आँखाको, कपालको र अनुहारको
बर्णन नगर्नु
ताकी म त्यो भन्दा माथी उठ्न सकू
धेरै माथी ।

समयको बतासले हाम्रो सम्बन्ध
उडाएछ भने पनि
हाम्रो प्रेमलाई नबिर्सनु
हृदयको एउटा कुनामा
तिमी र म दुबै हुनेछौँ ।
घृणाको शब्दकोसबाट शब्दहरु सापटी नलिनु
नरंग्याउँनु हाम्रो प्रेमलाई
कालो रंगले ।


आशा छ हाम्रो प्रेम
आंकाक्षा र सपनाको कङ्कृट मैफिलामा
नउत्रोस्
प्रेम प्रेमनै रहोस्
सम्बन्धको साँघुरो घेराभित्र बन्दी नबनोस् ।


उहि तिमी
उही म
अर्थात हामी ।

मर्स्याङ्दी किनारको बस्तीबाट

मर्स्याङ्दी किनारको बस्तीबाट 

आज म उद्घोस् गर्दै छु

केहि खेस्रा कथाहरु, उनको!

माफ गर

आज यही कथासँगै उनको बिसर्जन गरिदैछ 

कुहिरोले धुम्म भएको बिहानीमा

उ जन्मिएकी थिई रे

एउटा टुकी घामको किरण लिएर

एउटा जुनकिरी उज्यालो बोकेर 

तोरीका फूलहरु मस्त फूलेका थिए

बालुने फाटभरी

समयसँगै उ पनि फक्रदै थिई

त्यो सानो बस्तीभरी 

किशोर सपनाहरु बोकेर

उ बिद्धालय, क्याम्पस, विश्वबिद्दालय पुगी

सडक, हल र सभाहल पुगी

अक्षर, किताब र पुस्तकालय भित्र छिरी

उसँगै फक्रदै थिए

उसका स-साना विचारहरु

विचार बोक्ने खिरिएका शब्दहरु

भावना बोक्ने मनरुपी कविताहरु 

के जीवन जिउँनुदेखी अलग हुनसक्छ

के प्रेम प्रेमीदेखी भिन्न हुनसक्छ

के शब्द विचारवाट छुट्टिन सक्छ

के यात्रा यात्रीवाट ठुस्किन सक्छ 

आज त्यही मर्स्याङ्दी किनारको बस्तीबाट

उसको विदाई हुँदै छ भब्य बिदाई

भब्य बिसर्जन

सिँदुर, पोते, बारामाला, चुरा सबैका साथ

आज यही कथासँगै उ बिसर्जित हुँदैछ

मर्स्याङ्दी किनारको बस्तीबाट । 

Someday I Will Have My Best Friend

“Someday I will have a best friend all my own. One I tell my secrets too. One who will understand  my jokes without my having to explain them.” This is my childhood dream. Dream to have a best friend, friend all my own. But the tragedy is that I never got a best friend who is all my own. I was a lonely child. Very lonely. I didn't have any close friend. I used to stay alone, walk alone, speak alone. So, I used to think alone is synonyms of me. These days, I used to feel so tiny. Very tiny.  Tiny like an ant. Tiny like a mosquito. All my friends were bigger than me. Quite bigger. Quite beautiful. Quite handsome. They were different than me. I was different than them. So, we never tried to understand each other, neither they nor I.

But my lonely childhood still hunts me. I do not feel comfortable talking about my childhood memories. I really don't want to revisit them. Actually, I do not feel nostalgic thinking about childhood friends. In Fact, I want to delete my childhood memories if this can be possible. Sometimes when I think about my childhood I used to consider myself an outsider. One who did not belong in a crowd. Or the crowd of friends didn't recognize her. One who didn't have friends or friends did not want to make her friend.

Most of the people really love their childhood. I am the one who really hates it. One who have worse childhood memories. Without loving friends. Without close friends. I am one, who spent her childhood sitting in one corner, playing with own teddies. I was that child for whom silence gave company to talk. One whose existence was only in her family because friends did not recognize her.  These days, I used to consider myself  too unlucky because all have best friend except me. But the desire to have best a friend remained unfulfilled up to now. My childhood was bleak. It was bleak because childhood days without friends is really a worse thing. There is nothing bitter experience than this.

I don’t know I am right or wrong. But I am talking through my own experiences. Usually, a person who do not have comfortable or normal beginning that person really have a different concept about the world. More pessimistic perception. More hopelessness about the life. And so on about the world. I am also come into this category. Mostly I write about worse experiences rather than good. Pessimistic rather than optimistic. For example: recently I have written about myself in this way, “Neither I am shy nor bold. Neither I am beautiful nor smart. I am one, who laughs without cause. Sometimes mocking own self. Sometimes celebrating with own mistakes. So, I am one who lives but do not notice. I am one, who writes but do not want to publish. I am that image people never wanted to see. I am that song people never wanted to listen. I am that book, people never wanted to read.” Through this writing also I can see my pessimistic attitude towards myself. Sometimes I think that these things might be an effect of my lonely childhood. Nowadays, I try to be frank but in fact I am too introvert. I do not feel comfortable in a crowd. Instead of it, I enjoy myself reading some favourite fiction or poetry books.

Sometimes people say that everything happens for good cause. In my case too, my lonely childhood somehow gives me some good things. I was lonely so I got some time to think about myself. Some time to explore me. Time to enjoy with books. Time to think about my mistakes. And the main thing is that today my own unique perception about life and the world is shaped considering those things.