Words From Himalayas

Neither I can describe it.

Nor I can paint it.

Only I wrote two words in my dairy long time ago.

Magical ................

Surreal......................

When I started to sketch it

I broke the tip of a pencil.

I only felt the rhythms, love, and respect.

Last time he asked me, “where are you from?”

I said, “I am from the valley of Himalayas.”

Again he asked me, “What is your identity?”

I said. “Please! Ask with rivers.

I am the moving reality.”

Sometimes you capture it in your own camera.

Sometimes you describe it in your own words.

Sometimes you romanticize it.

Sometimes you demonize it in your own screen.

But I am me.

And what is it?

Neither I can describe

Nor I can paint

Only two words are in my mind

Magical

Surreal.............................

Or you can paint with your own words.

It is the open canvas of beauty.

Life After ICS

There is silence everywhere. I can only hear the sound of rain. And every single drop of rain takes me right to the beginning. I can still feel that journey when I close my eyes.

I am talking about ICS journey. That journey which transformed me in many ways. It gave me a confidence. It gave me a sense of direction. It gave me a realization of achievement. It gave me a pleasure of giving. It broadened my horizon. It expanded my own school of thought. Indeed it made me a different person.

I joined ICS only to explore myself. Before ICS, I was a fresh university graduate. Although I didn’t have a clear perspective about anything under the sun. But three months ICS journey taught me many things especially how to work in a rural community. How to cope with a new culture. How to deal with the people whose background is totally different.  Now I can realize I got many things more than what I aspired for. The whole experience made me a different person. So, I take it as a life changing experience.

In the journey, I met eleven wonderful people. They taught me many things. It’s hard to summarize these lessons in words. Sometimes, it’s difficult to sum up in few words. I am feeling same today. All of them are fantastic individuals. That made our group more precious like a mosaic. When I think about them, it took me right back to start when we started our journey. Those twelve individuals who have pretty different backgrounds were there in a new place to challenge themselves to change their world. They inspired me a lot. They made me realize how to be proud of being oneself. Their stories also inspired me a lot because stories are always my inspiration. And throughout the cycle, I encountered with those kinds of stories which I have never heard before.

Now there is raining outside. I am reading all your notes. Here, there are no beautiful green and brown mountains like in a Khadka Gaun. Even, I cannot see the beautiful mountain range which we used to see every morning. Many days have passed but I am left with the same memories we had together. It makes me more nostalgic. Also, I realize the nature of time. Times goes so fast. However, these memories made me more strong. More clear about my future. More determined towards my dream. And I am remembering the same song we used to listen, “Follow follow the sun....................

स्मृतिमा तिमी

पर कतै क्षितिजबाट
आइरहेको छाँया
सायद तिमी नै पो हौ कि!
म हेरिरहेछु
मौनताको आदिम वस्तिबाट

हामी छुट्टिएका थियौं
कुनै दिन
घाम लागेर पनि बादल छाएको तिम्रो आँखामा
पहिलोपटक मैले
पिडाले घायल
सुन्दर मन भेटेको थिएँ ................

आज बसौं भएछ
म चाहेर पनि कोर्न सक्दिन्
शब्दहरुले तिम्रो आकृती
स्मृतिको संग्रालयमा
तिम्रो लागी जोगाएको
एउटा मुटु मात्र बाँकी छ

जब एक्ली हुन्छु
क्षितिजमा  देखिएका छाँयाहरु
तिमी नै पो हौ कि भन्ने लाग्छ
र हेरिरहन्छु.............
मात्र हेरिरहन्छु ...............


आज एउटा दुष्प्रयास गर्दैछु
कोर्दैछु तिम्रो आकृति
रेखाहरु बाङ्गो जानसक्छन्
आकृतिहरु  अपूर्ण बन्नसक्छन्
र चाहेरै पनि तिमी नबन्न सक्छौ

धेरै भएछ
तिमीलाई नदेखेको
स्मृतिहरु कमजोर हुँदैछ्न्
चाहेर पनि तिमी नबनाउँन सक्छु
माफ गर
आज बुढो स्मृतिले अपूर्ण चित्र कोर्दैछ । 

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 ।