Uncanny among Canny

     People hardly know me as a rebel. For them, I am the same girl who sits in the corner without spelling a single word.  When you are too tiny among so many people they hardly realize your presence. They can take you like a tiny object which has nothing to do with the world around them. I am one of them. Smallest in the group from school to university.  They identify me as a brown tiny girl in their group.

            When you always feel like an outsider it makes you a different person. I am one of those. Who hardly have a feeling of being an insider. And always considered myself idiosyncratic and weird. When I go back to my formative years I remember being an odd among my own extended family.  I was not pretty and fair like my siblings.  It is not easy to grow up as a darker girl in a traditional  Nepali society. It is harder when you enter your teenage. That is the time when everyone feels a lack of belonging.  When you are continuously judged by your skin color and body type it makes you feel more outsider. I used to feel the same. Because of the same reason, the girls around me had never been my inspiration. I just observed them but never wanted to be like them. I never thought they would be my inspiration.  At the age of fifteen, I had already realized that my life wouldn’t be like theirs, I had to make my journey unique. At that time I was quite unaware of the journey I would like to go through. However, I was sure ..... my journey would be different.

            As I said  I am not a rebel in a traditional sense.  I am the rebel on my own terms. I was not like my friends, I was not like my siblings. So, I started observing my own life differently. I started observing people and realized that I am unique as well as beautiful. That feeling of being different but beautiful inspired me to take a different journey in life. I started writing. I started writing about my own weird journey. I started writing about the people who were around me. When you feel there is no one to understand you,  pen and paper are the only things that give you the company of compassion. Writing is the job of a loner. It is a journey from silence to silence. Perhaps I took the same journey I walked through silence and I wish I would walk on the same path.

            For me, a rebel is someone who walks on his or her own path without being apologetic. I think I am one of them.  People hardly attracted or intimated with me in any sense but it turned out as a liberating experience. It made me a different person, different than the rest. If I was pretty and fair like my siblings, like my friends  I may fall into the same trap of early marriage. I wouldn’t fall because  I wasn’t like them. Writing and reading gave me a new dimension and somehow broader worldview. At least it made me realize I am living on my own terms, I am beyond my tiny body and my dark complexion. 

            When you believe that beauty is something that is constructed you cannot easily deal with the things which are so regressive. For example, I never use fairness cream, I am always against it although I am the first one who gets the suggestion to use it.  Even my high school students already suggested me to use it. I never believe in vanity because I see the hierarchy and discrimination people are facing each day just because of how they look including me. But for my mom and grandmom’s generation that is something a girl needs to deal with.  They wish to see me as society wants to see me as beautifully married.  I always feel marriage is so regressive in many terms. For marriage, a girl’s look is the first and foremost thing to negotiate.  I never believe and never want to negotiate with it at least just for the sake of marriage. Also, I never think I am the one who is considered to be perfect for marriage. I have my own unique flaws as a human being. So, being an outsider of many institutions and concepts which are celebrated in society whether you want to or not you need to fight for your uncanny thought. I think I am doing the same.

            It’s not easy to articulate something so personal on a public platform. I think  I did the same and unapologetically consider myself a rebel. Maybe it is as similar as being uncanny among the group of canny.

अस्तित्वका फिलिङ्गा

मैले बादलका टुक्राहरुमा
तिम्रो नाम लेखें र
तल जमिनमा पठाएँ
आज जमिनमा केही सुन्दर देख्छु त
तिम्रो नाम देख्छु
तिमी देख्दिन तिम्रो नाम देख्छु
सायदै अब तिमी भेटिनेछौ
सायदै अब म तिम्रो नाम लेख्नेछु
अस्तित्वको यो मैफिलमा
जमिन र बादल केही नरहेपछी
तिम्ले मलाई मैले तिम्लाई खै के खोजिरहनु
खै के लेखिरहँनु !!

तिम्रो सत्य मेरो भ्रम

सदाझैं तिमी बुझ्नसक्नेछौ
म एउटा त्यस्तो चित्र हुँ
जसले तिमीलाई सधैं
उच्चताको अर्को बिन्दुले हेर्नेछ
अथवा तिमी त्यस्तो आकर्षण हौ
जस्को उज्यालोले हरेक दिन म पग्लनेछु
लाग्नसक्छ तिमीलाई तिमी त्यस्तो मैफिल हौ
जस्को गीतमा मजस्ता अनेकौं नाच्नेछन्
यी यस्तै भ्रमहरुको गुन्जनमा कहिल्यै नबिर्सनु
मौनताको एउटा अर्को अध्याय मसँग पनि छ
चाहेर नचाहेर आफू हुनुको सत्य
तिमीले सोचेजस्तो स्वप्नील नहुनसक्छ
कुनै दिन एउटै ढुङ्गामा ठोक्किएछौ भने बुझ्नु
तिमी तिमी हौ म म हुँ
तिम्रो सत्य मेरो भ्रम ।।

असुहाउँदो उज्यालो

अस्ताउँन लाग्दैछ घाम
पहेँला किरणहरु जताततै छरिँदैछ्न्
अप्रत्यारिलो न्यानोपन
असुहाउँदो उज्यालो
  ...................................
जसरी मुस्कुराउँछ्न् मानिसहरु
बिदाईमा
सायद निभ्न लागेको मैनबत्ती
डुब्न लागेको सपना
आफ्नो नबनेकी मायालु
यसरी नै मुस्कुराउछ्न्
जसरी मुस्कुराउछ्न् फूलहरु चिसो तुसारोमा
सायद ज्ञानी हुनु दुखी हुनु हो
किनकिन म सधै
संसारकै सबैभन्दा ज्ञानी मानिसहरु
असुहाउँदो उज्यालो बोकेर
मुस्कुराहिरहेको देख्छु । ।

The Journey Through Book

Nirjala Adhikari

I was in the photography class. The day was cold and gloomy, one of the coldest days of that winter. Our photography teacher was quite new to the institution from where I completed my bachelor.  And that was the second day he was taking class to us. He was just explaining about the history of photography meanwhile he told us- he can tell our future by looking at our face. All my friends were quite eager to stand in front of him to know about their future. They stood in front of him one by one. And he told them, “you are going to be a teacher, professor, government officer, tv journalist, social worker so and so. I was not in the mood to be in front of him but one of my friends forced me. I stood in front him suddenly he said to me –“ you are going to be a shopkeeper”. Although shopkeeper is not a bad word  I felt bad that day. Simply, I felt bad. “Am I going to be a shopkeeper?” I asked myself time and again. And the funny thing is that while growing up I never thought or imagined to be a shopkeeper even in my wildest, craziest and most bizarre fantasies.  Suddenly I felt like – “ I am in hell. I am in that place where I never able to belong”.  This is the incident of my life which made me realize an outsider of the whole education system and professionals but at the same time I never able to navigate the journey of my life beyond books.

Now I am exploring my journey from my childhood. I am going back for almost twenty years. I was a quite good student in school. Good in a sense that I was hardworking. I used to think that academic is the only thing which takes me into the next level. My mom used to tell me education is like a river it takes you in an unimagined journey of life. And her words used to inspire me a lot to navigate that journey.   

Me and my brother, more than siblings we are good friends. And that friendship has a deep connection with our education. He was very fast learner unlike me. He was very good in mathematics and science unlike me. But when it comes to hardwork I am always hardworking one. Laborious one. But I never got good marks like him in my school days. And that used to bother me a lot. I used to think how without any effort he is always good not me. That is the first thing that used to bother me when I was in my school.

However, I had a habit of reading a lot because of my mom’s saying, “ it takes you in a long journey.” That never faded from my mind. I was hardworking so teacher also loved me a lot. So, I used to think without books I couldn’t navigate that unimagined journey. So, reading became like my habit. I started loving books not only coursebook but also the books of literature. And my dream changed according to the age and periods of time. In school days, like my mom, I used to think if I couldn’t love the books then I will be nowhere. That time I aspired to be a newsreader like Rama Singh. So, I used to think books are the only thing which helps me to pursue that dream.  

Although I used to believe that book is the only thing that takes me in a long happy journey of life, there are many bitter experiences which made me quite pessimistic about the happy journey through books. And the day when my photography teacher said, “you are going to be a shopkeeper” is one of them. Actually more than anything else, that day he shattered my belief, that unshakable belief over the power of books and knowledge. That day when I returned home I couldn’t open my books and the same thing, “you are going to be a shopkeeper” hunted me time and again. Firstly, I became angry with him because I thought that who the hell he is to decide or to predict my future. Secondly, I felt like maybe he will be right indeed he is our teacher, he is more experienced and mature than us. A kind of insecurity with books and academics started hunting me. And it took a long time for me to be free from that bitter experience. I was more affected by that experience because at that time I was in my late teenage. In fact, I was not in the age to figure out someone’s opinion and prediction has nothing to do with my future and my love for books.

My love for books is growing through time although sometimes I hate the circumstances which occur due to the same journey. For example, when we are in university we learn to dream. Suddenly when we go out of the university we find the quite opposite world. And our bookish knowledge and intelligent seems like an alienated entity.  Sometimes I can’t give pragmatic decisions because my world is more connected with the book. However, love for book and my belief in the power of knowledge never betrayed me. I can’t deny the fact that there are some incidents which made me confused about whether I follow my instinct to follow the journey of books or not. But those incidents made me more determined to follow my instinct. That’s why I always consider the photography teacher is the person who turned my life. Although for a while he made me fractured, shattered indeed that was the turn who said me there are still people who can judge or predict you through your appearance or outer personality but that is not the ultimate reality. It’s already been seven years when he said to me you are going to be a shopkeeper but now the reality is quite different. Neither I have been shopkeeper nor I am dreaming to be a shopkeeper or business person.

So, I already said that I have a love-hate relationship with books. Sometimes it took me in the journey where I never dreamt to be. Sometimes it made me dissatisfied because it teaches me to dream but all the dreams didn’t turn as a reality. However books are books, it never let you down. I want to conclude with my mom’s words books are like rivers it takes you in a long unimagined journey of life. I am traveling the same journey, the journey through books.

ढुङ्गा अनि बतास

आउँछु नभनी आयौ
जान्छु नभनी गयौ
सायद म ढुङ्गा बनें
सायद तिमी बतास बन्यौं
ढुङ्गा अनि बतास
त्यो इतिहासको भद्धा मजाक थियो
.........................................
कोरिएका बेमेल रेखाहरुझैँ
यत्रतत्र छरियौ हामी
जब रंगको कोलाज
बिनाअर्थ पोखिन्छ क्यानभाषमा
जीवन जीवन नभएर
कविता बन्दो रहेछ
तीमी एक कविता
म एक कविता
सायद दृस्ठिकोणको आफ्नै मैफिलमा हराएका
दुई कविका दुई कविता बन्यौं हामी
तिमै तिम्रै मैफिलको राजा बन्नु
म मेरै मैफिलकी रानी बन्नेछु । 

प्रेम

         कतै सुनेको थिएँ लेख्न सबैभन्दा सजिलो विषय प्रेम हो र सबैभन्दा गाह्रो पनि । थाहा छैन प्रेममा खर्चिएका मसिहरु  कति हाँसो र आँशुले सिँचित छन् । समयको कठिन परिधिमा निस्सासीएका मानिसहरु किन प्रेम भन्ने बित्तिकै उन्मुक्त हुन्छन्? कति कुरा गर्न लजाउँछन्, कति प्रेम गर्छु भन्न डराउँछन् र कति पक्षिहरुझै आफ्नै प्रेमको उडानमा पर पर पुग्छन् । किन प्रेम आफैँमा पूर्ण भएर पनि अपूर्णझै हर प्रेमीहरुको इन्द्रेणीमा अर्को रंग बनेर घुल्छ ।
         प्रेम गर्नु भनेको कोमल हुनु हो । प्रेमको इतिहास कोमलताको इतिहास हो । कसैलाई तिमी कमजोरीसहित अपनाउँछौ, उसका गल्तिहरुमा हाँसिदिन्छौ र फेरी अर्को मौका दिन्छौ र कठोरताको कैंचीले उसको उडानलाई रोक्दैनौ भने त्यो प्रेम नै हो । तिमी हर  कसैलाई प्रेम गर्न सक्छौ तर प्रेमको बदला प्रेम नै म्याथको र्फमूला  माइनस माइनस प्लस जस्तो नहुन सक्छ । प्रेम गर्दिन कहिल्यै प्रेम गरिन भन्नेहरु पनि प्रेम गर्छन् । प्रेमको मैफिललाई नकार्नेहरु  जीवनको संगित र सिम्फोनीलाई पनि नकार्न सक्छन् । नर्कानु अर्को कुरा  तर कसैलाई प्रेम नै गरिन भन्नु मिथ्या मात्र हो ।
        हर प्रेमीहरु सुन्दर गुलाफ हुन् । प्रेम गर्न गाह्रो छ तर पनि उनीहरु प्रेम गर्छन् । कसैलाई प्रेम गर्नु भनेको आफ्नो जस्तै अर्को मानिसको अस्तित्व स्विकार गर्नु हो । प्रेमको लडाई इगोको लडाई होइन यो त  अपनत्वको लडाई हो, आत्मास्विकृतिको लडाई हो । प्रेमिहरु जस्ले प्रेम गर्छन् एकअर्कालाई ति संसारकै सुखी मानिसहरु हुन् सायद सुन्दर पनि । त्यसैले यो भूमण्डलको सबैभन्दा सुन्दर चीज त्यो केही हो भने त्यो प्रेम हो मात्र प्रेम ।
       मानिसहरु प्रेमलाई सम्बन्धसँग जोड्छन् र पो प्रेम कुरुप बन्दैछ । प्रेम प्रेम नै हो । सम्बन्ध र प्रेमबिच तात्विक केही सामञ्जस्यता छैन । यी त जीवनका छुट्टाछुट्टै स्वतन्त्र वृत्तहरु मात्र हुन् ।   प्रेम गर्नेसँग जीवन बिताउँने इच्छा प्राय सबैको हुन्छ तथापी यीनीहरुको  आ–आफ्नै सामाजिक, आर्थिक र धार्मिक चौघेराहरु छन् । हरेक प्रेम सम्बन्धहरु बिवाहमै गएर अन्त्य हुन्छन् भन्ने छैन । यदि प्रेम र सम्बन्धको गहिराइ नाप्ने हो भने प्रेमको गहिराइ सधैं गहिरो हुन्छ र हुनेछ । सम्बन्ध त समाजले बनाएको मापदव्ड मात्र हो । यसको मूल्याङ्कन   सायद अर्थशास्त्र र समावशास्त्रले बढि गर्ला । त्यसैले प्रेमको सुरुवात र अन्त्य दुवै बिवाह हो भन्नु चल्तिको भाषा बोल्नु मात्र हो । सबै बिकेका र स्थापित बिचारहरु ठिक हुन्  भन्न म सक्दिन ।
         कवि, चित्रकार, लेखक, कलाकार यी प्रेमका हिमायतीहरु हुन् । प्रेमलाई अभिब्यक्त गर्न खोज्नु  आफ्नै पाखण्डलाई आफ्नै शिल्पले छोप्नु हो । शब्द र कलाको भाषा बेगर प्रेमको अस्तित्व कहि कतै छ भने त्यो मौनतामा मात्र छ ।  प्रेमीहरु बिना भाषा पनि बोल्न सक्छन् । ठिक बिपरीत त्यही मौनतालाई कविले कविता बनाउँछ, लेखकले कथा बुन्छ, चित्रकारले चित्र । त्यसैले आफू भाषामा बोले पनि कसैले मौनतालाई प्रेम गर्छ भने त्यो कवि, चित्रकार, लेखक मध्धे कोही एक हो ।
        प्रेमको भाषा संसारकै सुन्दर भाषा हो । नबोलेरै बोल्नु भनेको संसारको बहुरंगी कोलाजबाट सुन्दर मौन सिम्फोनी  निकाल्नु हो । हुनसक्छ गीत गाउँनु, कविता लेख्नु, अभिनय गर्नु, चित्र बनाउँनु, मूर्ति बनाउँनु सायद प्रेमकै भाषा बोल्नु हो ।