WHtever…

Whtever Sorry 4 the bad reads below guys..nobody wants to comment I guess, Hey can’t you at least type 2 lines guys, at least to keep my heart..Bohooohoo. N Kamlesh!!!! Where the hell are you, playing Richard? Don’t tell me you didn’t have time. You not commenting is ‘Etu Brute” or Kamleshe’ for me. Can’t you at least write “This sucks”? N all the rest, what ‘s with you, You know I am nuts sayin I don’t care even if no one comments , love of writing bla bla. Come on don’t you know ” It is good to give when asked but better when given unasked… I’m loudly thinking of turning it private..and Hysh maybe we should start on that new blog..issues stuff..and as of now feeling down and low…the impact of a blow slowly being felt and my feelings are best expressed in this Book “The Reader” by Bernhard Schlink. It is a must read guys, originally written in German translated in English by Carol Brown Janeway. After reading it I seriously wanted to learn German. Now if the translation is so expressive wonder what the original must be. It is a story based on Post-World War Germany, a love story between a fifteen-year-old boy and Thirty-four year old woman. Unusual isn’t it? I read it exactly one year ago. The book helped me outgrow all the earlier notions of love, relationships and a lot more, mind opening ceremony. Most of all found it so close to me that was wondering if Schlink was thinking of me when he made the character Michael Berg. The Evening Standard wrote: For generations to come, people will be reading and marveling over Bernhard Schlink’s “The Reader”. Anyways for now go through these dialogues:

Does everyone feel this way? When I was young, I was perpetually overconfident or insecure. Either I felt completely useless, unattractive, and worthless, or that I was pretty much a success, and everything I did was bound to succeed. When I was confident, I could overcome the hardest challenges. But all it took was the smallest setback, for me to be sure that I was utterly worthless. Regaining my self-confidence had nothing to do with success; every goal I set myself, every recognition I craved made anything I actually seem paltry by comparison and whether I experienced it as a failure or triumph was utterly dependent on my mood.

In every part of my life, too, I stood outside myself and watched; I saw myself functioning at the university, with my parents and brother and sisters and my friends, but inwardly I felt no involvement. I sat at the window, surrounded by ever-changing passengers, conversations, smells. Outside, houses passed by, and roads, cars, trees, distant mountains, castles and quarries. I took it all in and felt nothing.

She looked ahead and through everything. A proud wounded, lost, and infinitely tired look. A look that wished to see nothing and no one.

There’s no need to talk, because the truth of what one says lies in what one does.

Now some from Alice Hoffman’s Here on Earth. Another must read, it is in Oprah’s Book Club too. On its cover is a comment, which goes: The Horse Whisperer meets Wuthering Heights. So what are you waitin for, read it!

She’s not going back to where she was a major nothing, inside and out. Gwen feels good just being around him (a horse), and this is not the way she ordinarily feels when confronted with human life forms.

There is no measuring love, other than all or nothing or that space in between. (I just love this dialogue)

It’s not the lie that’s the problem: it’s the distance the lie forges between you.

History is personal. All you are seeing is what’s before you, the rest is guesswork.

And if I were to sing my emotions it would surely be this:

SANTANA LYRICS

“Just Feel Better”
(feat. Steven Tyler)

She said I feel stranded
And I can’t tell anymore
If we coming or I’m going
It’s not how I planed it
I’ve got a key to the door
But it just won’t open

And I know, I know, I know
Part of me says let it go
That life happens for a reason
I don’t, I don’t, I don’t
It goes I never went before
But this time, this time

I’m gonna try anything to just feel better
Tell me what to do
You know I can’t see through the haze around me
And I do anything to just feel better

And I can’t find my way
Girl I need a change
And I do anything to just feel better
Any little thing that just feel better

She said I need you to hold me
I’m a little far from the shore
And I’m afraid of sinking
You’re the only one who knows me
And who doesn’t ignore
That my soul is weeping

I know, I know, I know
Part of me says let it go
Everything must have it seasons
Round and round it goes
And every day’s the one before
But this time, this time

I’m gonna try anything that just feels better
Tell me what to do
You know I can’t see through the haze around me
And I do anything to just feel better

And I can’t find my way
God I need a change
And I do anything to just feel better
Any little thing that just feel better

Long to hold you in my arms
To all things I ought to leave behind, yeah
It’s really getting old
I think I need a little help this time!

Yeah
[Guitar solo]

I’m gonna try anything to just feel better
Tell me what to do
You know I can’t see through the haze around me
And I do anything to just feel better

And I can’t find my way
God I need a change
And I do anything to just feel better
Any little thing that just feel better

In Between Jobs

In between Jobs, I love the way Nikita; the main character of the series titled the same says that. But now I think I can say it better for I am experiencing the full force of that phrase. Just finished the household chores. Hey, Dhungs I am sure you got a heart attack. I can’t believe this! I did the dishes!! It had been exactly been a year or so since I stopped doing anything at home other than clean my room. Only a month ago I wouldn’t even enter the kitchen, even dinner on my study table. Reach home at around 6, freshen up at 7, have dinner and go to bed by 8, wake up at 3 or earlier for the so-called group assignments to be completed, head off for college and no lunch …busy and look at me now. I am home directly after college! Siiiiiiiiiigh! Yeah three months over of my appointment, though I worked there for more than six months .Ah…this is terrible. Nothing to do..Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Despite the fact that my boss bid a smiley goodbye to me at the staff meeting saying we will always call you when you need you. You are always welcome; drop in sometimes. It isn’t as good as being a regular staff. Call me back plzzzzz, I hope you didn’t overhear me singing “ I am young and I’m underpaid”( Alanis Morrisette). I should have done my work a bit slowly I guess. Still nobody would mind me dropping in sometimes to act as a resource center handler and turn their clumsy emails into smart ones (ok my language isn’t so good either, even then- We have attached the proposal herewith is still better than We have sending you the proposals). Boooohooooo that SAWF Quarterly report was a kick ass job man, I did contribute to bring in that funds…bohooooohohoh … I am jobless once again… And if I were a cartoon character I would have tears flying off my face, picturize that? I wish I had kept those “Laid off” and “Corporate Blues” articles in the Sunday edition of THT. All I did was keep those Dilbert’s words of wisdom and here is one: I love deadlines, especially the swooshing sound they make as they fly by! And the other one goes I can only please one person each day, today isn’t your turn and tomorrow isn’t looking good either. Talk of ways to get fired!!

Thank God! Blogging is some preoccupation for my hyper active senses. It has been some kind of addiction, that love with the sound the keyboard makes, just being able to articulate what is on my mind and taking a ride on the wild side by welcoming the public into my mind! And you guys may be even finding this a terrible read. Something like ok Zaded has this going on, so what are we supposed to do? What the hell? But blogging for me isn’t all about others opinion about my stuff, has turned into a passion I want to write just for the love of it, like walking..seeking no gain only peace of mind. It feels like being self-employed only that there is nothing called salary in it! Hey, is it back to the parasitic phase? Mommy, give me some money. Yuck! What about financial independence, economic freedom? God! Isn’t that terrible? Bishwas buddy does your “Pathfinder” have a job vacancy. I could be a reporter…ahahah earn in dollars. Give my regards to the longhaired and bearded guy. Heeheheh. And now that the blog advertisement campaign has expanded to people all over the globe (ok that it is big bluff, only Nepal and the USA) I think I should outgrow from these howde write-ups. Moreover the Blog Hero, the propounder of Blogging in Nepal, himself might be going through it as well. OMG I am scared! I need to tap my creative juices and produce something worthwhile. I am heading off to that to be great read just about now. Till then Njoy! Nice talking to me.

RaNg De BaSanti

This is what I call instant blogging. Yeah I am scribbling furiously in my Clean-O Capsule notebook. And as I am writing I must be looking like the Paro of Devdas distraught hair flying that bushy look, hurrying to meet her crush. Just a little while ago I was on the street hair flying as if I were electrocuted, a running nose and yeah exposing my neck. ahahaha. I presumed that Kunal’s presence in the screen would be enough to set my mitochondria on fire and would stay warm throughout. But I guess until I saw him I would remain vulnerable to the nature’s way of tormenting humans. And my attempt to be the “Presence Immaculate” gals you can see on the road is another failed attempt. I don’t seem to be doing any better without my winter signature style, the muffler of mine. It is 8:05 on my watch, and I am still in Nepal Yatayat! The only solace at the moment is the fact that my watch is 10 minutes ahead of the Nepalese time, seems like I have even out run the Japanese. Their time is only 2 secs ahead that the real time, 7 yrs ago they increased a sec and this year they increased another. Hehehe.. Nevertheless my Nepali upbringing doesn’t seem to go along with my fast watch…I was busy washing my hair for half an hour and in a hurry I don’t seem to have put enough cold cream as well. Is this the way you appear in your first date? Bushy hair, cracked lips, dry cheeks… Inexperience sometimes comes with a heavy price tag. Just hope that Kunal doesn’t appear on the screen before I reach the cinema hall.

Ah..now it is Mingma Sherpa’s “ Cham Cham Pauju Bajudai”…It is a nice catchy tune but why the hell are Nepali singers still hanging on to Pauju stuff till date. Moreover who ever wears a pauju (anklet) and gives that shy look to some ‘twake’ guy these days (spare a gal I always meet on my way home who gave me a mild heart attack the first time she was walking behind me with that cham cham of the anklets, I could not believe my ears. Seriously!) Maybe I need to slow down a bit and relax when it comes to assuming that my generation of women have completely broken free from the stereotypical keta-haru-ko-akash-bata-jharne-pari image. Not all are the likes of me sporting torn sneakers (DUH!) kuz it still feels so comfortable and gives that wild sense of freedom.

It is 8:19..I despise this no. 19. Why don’t I own a supersonic jet? I am about to go insane. Only five minutes for the show and I am still in Anamnagar. Boy, This Is crazy.

——————————————————————————–

Rang De Basanti..my desktop background. Rang De Basanti..the music in my stereo , Rang De Basanti the way my own Spring (Basanta) kicked off. Feb 4,2006 Saturday I had a date with my friends, Mission: Rang De Bansanti at Jai Nepal Cinema. An A.R Rehman music aficionado, Aslam aka Kunal Kapoor my latest crush and all that our generation kind of promos: obviously expectations were high. Lights off, subsiding murmurs and eyes fixed on the huge screen the movie started. I was a little late and flustered but entered the cinema just in time i.e. b4 Aslam appeared on the screen.Heheh. Auditions for a role in the movie, some going “Kutte, kamine” others… (Can’t remember, as I was confused wondering what was going with everyone around me laughing). Sue is let down..but I am not! Aslam is yet to appear. He does, in style, turning around from some wall painting thing he is engrossed in. He surely knocked me off my feet, only no one noticed as I was seated! The lean physique, well kept beard (an anytime eye catcher for me), long hair giving a poetic edge to his personality and a voice like no one else’s (not husky…isn’t high-pitched even if he yelled sort). Wish I could describe him better but unfortunately haven’t read enough Mills and Boons to be the ideal male body inspector. Actually the only male description I have picked from them is lean hips, broad chest and welcoming arms.. hahahah. Now you don’t want such descriptions do you?? So for now all I can say is it’s a complicated web he (Kunal) weaves inside my head…Hahahaha

Then it was time to learn how to flex your flirting muscles..the DJ way, be a liberal among fanatics ( Kunal described his character Aslam this way in an interview I watched on B4U) Kool na? Have Sukhi sprinkle salt and chilli in the soooo well known No-gal- for-me pain hahaha (Hey wait! change that gal to guy in my case, I still see a glimmer of hope LOL. If pigs could fly) and get in touch with that indecisive you through Karan. And as the movie progressed I was so comfortable that it felt more like an extension of myself on the screen and less of some aliens Sukhi, DJ, Aslam, Sonia, Karan and Sue having fun out there.

I migrate into the body of DJ wondering why bad things happen to good people, why the hell we are able to do nothing but merely watch yes “ tamasa dekh te rehena” it is all we can do. It feels so good no Goddamn good to know that you aren’t only the one feeling that way: that search for identity that longing to be someone, making a mark wherever you go. I loved the part when DJ admits that he is in college since the last five years, at least people recognize him there. It is so much us. We the youth of today. Decisive moments we live in them, grades, ethical dilemmas of the career we are opting for, the realization that the sleek UN vehicles don’t figure anywhere in that make-sth-happen development worker. Ah. Isn’t it ironical how each of us think we are diverse, that pride we take in saying we are different yet deep down we are the same so much alike united by that complexity of human emotions, those turbulent winds of confusion, anger, frustrations and that joy instigated by the same little things: a red rose, a smile on the lips of the one we love, the confession of love? Bon Jovi sure is right when he says we all have the blood of Eden in our veins. And we are, yes exactly the way he puts Just in Between who we are and who we want to be.

The film is indeed journeying to the unwandered territories within you. It makes you ask yourself: Are you making the most of yourself? Have you found that something in life you could die for? What difference do you make to the ones around you? Do you make a difference at all? Is anger the answer to all the injustices around us? What is the threshold of tolerance? What level of intellectual awareness is enough awareness to propel you into action? How close must the suffering be so that you feel its impact? To what extent should you feel other’s pain? And by the end of the movie you I found myself asking Why, why the hell am I here and not in some protest against the broad daylight loot of our freedom? And is every one is such rallies there with that intense desire for freedom? Has everyone out in the streets reached that utopian obsession of realization of democracy, the stage where one overcomes all fear and they are unstoppable? Whys, whats and hows the movie lingers in these questions long after the movie is over.

It talks of relationships. Of love the inscrutable, friendships unbreakable. Why can’t two people in love make it? A lingering danger in loving somebody too much. Tragic to know that it is your heart they can touch and then they are gone, gone with the wind, in the blink of an eye it is over. Your heart is now a road for someone else to tread, leave footprints, aches that stay long after they are gone.

After the movie it was real life Rang De for me, a rally to attend. Women for peace in Basantapur. I was supposed to be there by 9:30, a volunteer from our organization. It was almost 12 when I reached but didn’t matter. I felt proud, proud of being the latecomer? No, of being a youth in the huge mass that was there not just by obligation but also by choice, an awakened mind, an optimistic attitude that things would turn out fine, feeling the wind of change slowly taking over. RDB after effects, you could say that again. I walked along holding the banner of my organization, striding with my head held high looking around at the effect of the rally in the narrow lanes of Asan area. I felt glad that the onlookers were going through the pamphlets given to them, and even the fact that they weren’t in the rally ceased to matter. I did not blame them for anything as I felt that soon they would realize the difference people make by voicing their opinions, taking a stand of their beliefs. Positivity ruled. And then I knew, walking in the scorching heat that something in me had changed. I just knew that wherever I landed in future, whether I got married at 24 or stayed single till 80 scribbling on my Spinster and Lunatic Journals, whether I got a high profile job after graduation or fought to be a peon even after my masters I would be burning out, yes burning out Not Fading Away. A spark had been lighted in my heart and it would surely be a long time before it died down…a long, long time…

A Rendezous on a Valentine

Woke up forgetting what day it was. Nice beginning. Thought of wishing my sister a Happy Valentine’s day but she was perhaps enjoying a ride on the clouds with her dream guy, so did not have the heart to wake her up. Back to the usual humdrum of life; head off to college of course, what could be more interesting?? First it was the hang on to the iron rod baby ride on the Bhaktapur Mini Bus and then the comfortable ride on the Nepal Yatayat. The Khichapokhari flower shops looked busy early in the morning with the staff decorating cars and making bouquets. And I could feel the Spirit of Love slowly stealing its way inside me..The lighted flower shops, dark roses ah..I felt wonderful. And in one flower shop a guy, outdoorsy clothing, hair locks alike Paruj was buying a bouquet of roses..that did it all. What a wonderful thing to do! What a sweet gesture to make! My heart was struck by the Cupid ahahah..And though could clearly understand that I had gone out of my mind I could not help myself from feeling extremely happy. No Reason For Love, No Season For Love. They don’t say that for nothing. I felt so good almost as much as what I would have experienced if the guy had stopped the bus I was in to give me the bouquet proposing on his knees. If pigs could fly! Trust my imaginary senses to do it all. The bus moved on, it was in front of KMC (Kathmandu Model College) a girl was extending her hand out to a guy, he was on a bike while she was standing in front, slowly and uncertainly he took out his hand from his jacket pockets and took it. Man, that was a lovely. Melodramatic, could have passed for a romantic scene in a movie without a second take. And these divine eyes of mine, how can I thank them enough, thank you gems for giving me so much to feast upon. Hehehehe.Wherever I glance there is something to see. College, as usual was fine. Only fine? What was I expecting, a Dark Red Rose from a Tall, Dark and Handsome guy? Those types are only found in books an and movies, in real life most are Baneshwore Chowk types..Chana Grindin Molar Owners, Turn around N Pee Gang Members. Think you’re different? I’m worried!! There must be something definitely wrong with you. I seriously doubt your manhood!!

Valentine Day Fever..it did not leave me so soon. Infectious, that is what sums it all, so we gals decided to go to European Bakery and celebrate. A Valentine Day without a brown yummy, taste bud exploding Black Forest, how could that be? So hit off to EB right after college, had the cake and a couple of pizzas and juices. Had Fun? Obviously!!! Office, a serious atmosphere, nothing seemed to have been affected. Was working on the computer when all at once the lights went off. Load shedding. Everything came to a stand still. It was around 4:45 so I decided to head home. But I couldn’t dispose the fact that it was the Day Of Love. Thought I had to do something different, something I truly loved and was passionate about. Love, passion …Walking. Yeah that was what I am beyond doubt passionate about. A weird thing to fall in love with, but love just happens, you don’t choose. These days the love has grown deeper than ever, its been about a week I have been regularly walking home.Anamnagar to Lokanthali..Tiring but worth every step I take. Decided to do it a bit differently, freshened up (never do that while leaving 4 home other days). Just to get that groovy feeling as if going on a date! It felt good though. Baneshwor once again, in front of the BICC a budho passed by complimenting “Kya Ramri Keti”. Hahahah..I literally wanted to laugh out that way. But most of all wanted to ask him where the hell he had transferred his eyeballs, into his pockets?? Men, why can’t they act their age? Weirdos.Passed Minbhawan..reached Tinkune..decided to visit Paris Danda ( A Lover’s Point) especially in Summer. I took the Kantipur Complex turning and reached the spot. Now the story begins. Hahahah..Guess what happened?

The sky was cloudy, with the orange sun peeping once in a while providing me something to look at. There were a few people scattered around. I sat down facing the airport enjoying the view of the planes landing and taking off. Wanted to turn west and watch the sun but a gang of howdes sat there so started scribbling. And there was this girl sitting nearby, looking at me, the Fast N Furious Scribbler with interest. As I sat down she moved closer but I was occupied with my scribbling and she made no attempt to start a conversation either. Closed my pen and offered her Polo. She accepted gratefully and then kick started a friendly chat. Anita, a jobholder at the Kantipur Publications. Nepal Magazine? I piped in. Yes, she told. Studies, Bachelors Second Year. Ah! Then you must be a student of RR Campus. Correct once again. Felt like a real smart ass. And surprisingly we were laughing like old buddies after sometime. She was finding everything I told her very funny. It made me feel good; at least I was making a stranger laugh, spreading happiness on Vals. I asked her about her Valentine and found out that we were both on the same boat Never Proposed Gang of Gals. After sometime three guys from the other side approached our spot, one of them went “ Happy Valentine’s Day! I Love You, babe.” If I trusted guys to have a sense of humor as good as gals would have replied back “ I Love you too. No guy ever told me that. You are the first!” But I know better than assuming every one to see the world as I do. Moreover when he walked past us noticed him to be high on some substance. Whatever! The instant passed quickly leaving the two of us giggling about the first proposal in our lives!! On A Valentine’s Day, how lucky could anyone get? She asked for my number that was unexpected but gave her anyway. And though it felt like writing your number and email address in all those NGO programs, which never gets used, did it. Asked for hers as well, out of courtesy. (2 do or not to.) After sometime her friend came to call her to get ready for a wedding party. We rose and left the place together. She was insisting me to stay for tea. I was taken aback. Never knew I was so likeable!!

It was a really wonderful experience, talking to a stranger, laughing and all. A year and some months gone by since I took the Art of Living Classes and ages after the deadline had passed I could finally do the homework given in the first class. Our teacher had told us to talk to 5 strangers, just talk, wherever on the road, bus just try doing that. That was like Mission Impossible for me. He’d told us children, all innocence, while on a public transport sometimes kick the other passengers, smile at them. They do not have that ego of who they are; don’t worry about what the other person might think if s/he acted that way. They just follow their heart. Sport their real nature; spread love around. But with age our we thicken the layer of ego surrounding us and with time we reside in a cocoon of our pride, that status and all which bars us from getting in touch with the joy around. Completing that ancient assignment I felt like a child, just myself, proud of the fact that I could let my guards off and enjoy the company of a total stranger. And better was the feeling that I had lived up to Mother Teresa’s words: “Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier.” It is some kind of motto and nothing makes me happier than the realization that one more person is smiling because of me. It feels just awesome, heavenly..

Then was the time for a twenty-minute walk home. When I reached the garage on my way home, a marriage procession was in front of me, the married couple in a brownish-yellow Santro. I didn’t know where to go. Follow the procession mingling with the Janti or stride ahead. I chose the latter and somehow managed to reach the start of the line, right in front of the Band Players. And just as I was about to take the turning to my home they started playing:

“ Kab tak Jawani Chupaogi Rani

Kawaron ko kitna Sataogi Rani,

Kabhi to hamari dulhaniya Banogi,

Mujhe Sadi Karoge, mujhse Sadi karogi” hahahahh

And the last part was so loud, banging my eardrums actually that I let myself be vulnerable to the wordings. It felt as though an army of men were singing it to me. Laughed all the way home..Reached home at around 6:15 and guess what my mom asked, “ No roses?”

“Arko Junima” I laughed it off. One hell of a Valentine’s Day!

Celebrate this Month of Love,

Come fall in love with yourself,

Fall in love with life…

Election Day

Cloudy but warm, today is dull yet a beautiful day. And with good music to complement it I feel blessed indeed. The songs being played on the radio are exceptionally wonderful, fast and peppy numbers increasing my typing speed, making me jump out of my chair to dance in some and relaxed that is what I am feeling. It is Magh 26,2062 (Feb 9) the much-hyped controversial Municipal Elections is finally here. I have been keeping myself updated on the development through Nepal FM 91.8, they are really fast, bringing in the news every one-hour and News flash anytime something unexpected occurs. And the elections saga till now seems to be the most eventful among all the elections ever held here. A voter in Biratnagar, Bhanu Koirala, tore his vote and threw away the ballot box; the security then opened fire in the air and has taken hold of protestors there. I salute the man’s guts. News from Kausaltar election area, the nearest to my place says that the number of security personnel exceeded the number of voters.

Elections began from eight with a minimal human presence; no one wants to exercise their adult franchise (DUH!). Therefore the parties participating in the election are transporting voters to the areas where election are held. The seven parties are still protesting in various areas, the security forces busy arresting them and the journalists haven’t been allowed to enter the election area. And the funny thing is the one who is supposed to be monitoring elections in various areas seems to be staying at one place only, the news reader in 91.8 just stated that. The most ludicrous of all is the election chief saying the presence of the voters has been overwhelming when so few turned up. This is what the ones in power here seem to do best, lie right on your face expecting you to believe them!!!

The “We want no bloodshed” interview of Prachanda and Bhattarai, that made Kantipur sell like hot cakes raising our hopes of peace have once again faded. Yesterday the Maoists launched attacks in Bara, Syangja and Dhankuta. Six people were killed in Dhankuta; the rebels attacked more that a dozen government offices there and have taken fifteen people as hostages.

Two women from Dolakha died, as they could not be brought to the capital for treatment. One died due to complications in childbirth while the other died of excessive loss of blood caused by a wound in the intestine. In Parbat a boy died while he was being transferred from one ambulance to another. A UML party worker Umesh Thapa was shot dead by a security personnel while he was returning back from a protest rally. The Nepali Congress has announced a massive protest programme for tomorrow against this act of the government. I hope the government is heavily condemned for his shameful act from all national and international sectors, so much so that it brings down the government on its knees. We cannot let our country turn into another Afghanistan. Some 12 people have been shot dead there in a protest held against the cartoons of Mohammed published in French, Dutch newspapers.. And I wonder what are the count required for everyone to realize that too many people have been killed, too many children orphaned and too many lives shattered. Does brotherhood of men exist anymore? Do all humans feel the same, I wonder. Why do we pretend to be complicated when everything about us is so simple? Lives are precious, is it so hard to understand? Why can’t the ones with the gun put themselves on the other side of the barrel and think? Is the hunger for power so great that it bars you from responding to the call of your heart?

What am I supposed to feel with so much happening around? Mourn the death of the innocent victims of the Banda, be out in the protest of the seven parties? What am I supposed to do, just sit and keep pouring my mind? Questions, so many of them and yes don’t attempt to answer if it is this: Wake up that is what really matters. Acknowledging a problem is the first step towards solving it..blah ..Blah..Blah. Why does this happen? You are here safe and sound while someone you love out there is gone tonight. You are happy but somebody else is crying her heart out. Is my happiness built on the ruins of someone else’s dreams? Why does it have to be so hard to live?

(I start writing with a cool mind but by the time I reach the end I am totally distraught, so tensed that even music doesn’t help calm my senses…everything making me ask why, why and so many whys until I go crazy, not that I am normal anytime else too..it just makes me want to shut all my doors of perception and vanish into thin air..somewhere far..far from this madding crowd. I wish I could be indifferent, apathetic.)

I cannot take this anymore
I’m saying everything I’ve said before

All these words they make no sense

I find bliss in ignorance

Less I hear the less you’ll say

But you’ll find that out anyway

Just like before…
Everything you say to me

Takes me one step closer to the edge

And I’m about to break

I need a little room to breathe

Cause I am one step closer to the edge

I find the answers aren’t so clear

Wish I could find a way to disappear

All these thoughts they make no sense

I find bliss in ignorance

Nothing seems to go away

Over and over again

Shut up when I’m talking to you

Shut up, shut up, shut up
I’m about to break!

One Step Closer
-Linkin Park

Nepal Banda ( Day 1)

Nepal Banda, it is the next to the Sun Rising in the East, normal happening in our country. Actually it is closer to the perpetual truth than the rising sun. As most Nepalis could believe if the sun started rising in the west but if somebody told them there is no Nepal Banda this month (Oops! A month?? Correct that for a week) they might give you one good beating for such a big lie right on their face. When no one in our land seems to be agreeing on anything there is one thing we could have a consensus on, Declaring Nepal the Land of Closure. After all that failed effort to declare it the Land of Peace. We need to be the Land of Something other than Buddha and Sagarmatha. I experience no pride in declaring myself to be a citizen of a country boasting of events on which no one had control over. Mt Everest, so what the fuss? The tectonic movement could have placed it anywhere. And Yes Lord Buddha, Buddhism all rock but what use saying I belong to the place where he was born when the same land takes the indiscriminate murder of its people nothing more than some petty crime. I for one am all for belonging to the Land of Bandas.

And dudes, I know you spent the Banda being a couch potato staring at the Idiot Box till your head ached and your mom repeated that same old.. Too much T.V, no studies yada yada dialogue. I bring to you my first hand experience of the Nepal Banda- the first day of the one weeklong ceremony.

Well, I am not the must be person in my office unless they have instantly translate some report into English or correspond to their donors or update materials in the website. I am more of the Boss’s person and as an efficient, youngest new blood in the office I complete my assignments quickly and am free. And this I guess as most understand is called blowin your own trumpet loud and clear.. Come on, I deserve some of it after walking all the way to the off and back don’t I? Anyways there was an approval letter and another send right away information to our partner so I had to go. And luckily it wasn’t an absolutely no vehicle on the street sort of Closure, everyone must already be knowing that with so many vehicles taken hold by the government to run in the banda yesterday itself. I walked till Koteshwore and from there I got on to a Nepal Yatayat. Got off at Babarmahal and trotted till Anamnagar.

My colleagues were surprised to see me so soon and only two of them were there so I made most of the opportunity. Immediately checked out Kunal’s blog ( Aslam of Rang De Basanti) , read Jaz’s comment and made one myself. Then it was time for http://www.rangdebasanti.net. For the ones who haven’t checked it out I tell you it is a must. As the page completes loading you have the three songs (Rang De Basanti, Masti ka Pathsala, and Roobaru) being aired not the whole but excerpt. It will get you in the mood. You can download posters, wallpapers, movie stills, check out the cast and what not. DON’T WAIT! CHECK OUT THE SITE NOW. I did and now I have the topless guys waving their shirts as my desktop background.hehehehe. Some way to start work, looking at topless men..Whatever. When can you flex your flirting muscles if not now? Waddaya say gals? What is more, it is FEB! Dream on.

Then it was my time out. Efficiently completed my task in about half and hour I was free! And these days I find my job so undemanding that I don’t even feel like having tea at the off. I don’t feel myself worth the tea. Personally I feel that you should be honoring food by being worth the amount in your plate. You should have done something worth it. I mean when people out in Africa are dying of hunger how can we be overstuffing ourselves? Ok maybe that sounded a little crazy but I can’t help getting mad at anyone who wastes even a single grain of rice. Pray you readers don’t. If you do then go to hell, grow up, be responsible AND BE back. (Emotional fool. U could say that again)

And this banda will contribute to the waste of food once again. Tomorrow again there will be news of farmers spilling milk on the road, throwing away tones of vegetables grown arduously, hundreds still fighting for their share in Humla as the plane with food grains lands and million others going to bed in an empty stomach. The mere thought of it makes my hackles rise and if I had a gun I would perhaps turn into another DJ and shoot the Maoist leader Bhattarai right away. How indifferent can you be towards the dwindling state of affairs in your country when you proclaim to be fighting for the people? Can you win the support of the living when they are mourning the loss of the dead? Can you have peace by gagging us all? You cannot build the empire of your dreams on our ruins of Tansen, Thankot, Nepalgunj name a place here that has been left unscathed by Maoist attacks…(being a Nepali is sure an emotional affair, one moment you are joking another you are ranting) I feel as unstable as the politics of this country, as unpredictable as the politicians (Roshan Karki and Kamal Thapa for instance) and as confused as psycho Dr Tulasi Giri. And in times like these I want to turn into the ignorant Gyanendra pretending the innocence of a child (who knows he may still having the hangover of being crowned the king when he was 3). 19 killed in Tansen, 11 in Thankot in broad daylight but there he goes Maoist activities have been limited to petty crimes now. Hey, by the way is Nepal the newfound land? Are all the Nepalese toddlers? In that case, I must be some yet to be born smart-ass that talks politics in the mother’s womb!

By the way, where was I?????? From tea to hard-core politics talk, that sure is a giant leap. Was out of the office by 3:40 and I decided to walk the way home though I could have got on some bus about to x-plod with people. I was more driven to walk as I wanted to feel like a direct victim of the banda and yes a walk from Anamnagar to Lokanthali did not necessary mean that I would die!! I had to do something to compensate for the reading newspaper day in the office as well. So it began, an hour-long march. Don’t take that as some great feat as once on the road you don’t even realize how time passes..Hehehe. The secret is one should have the passion to walk, like me. Sometimes it is Pulchowk to Koteshwor other times Baluwatar to Baneshwor, the record breaking one was Kalimati to Dhapasi Ward no 1. Take this tip: Don’t start the journey thinking Oh God! I have so much to walk. Picture the journey as small distance trips. E.g. If you are walking from Pulchowk to Koteshwor (I doubt you are that crazy) first think of Kupondole, then Thapathali, then Maitighar so on. You will feel like a packhorse in the end of the journey but the benefits of walking out run the physical discomfort. First of all you reach home all dusty and dirty, get scolded for being so crazy, then are showered with concerns over how tired you must be, dinner’s on your study table itself and finally a good nite sleep like never before. Like it? Then dare it. Hahahahha.. The sights and sounds around you will surely keep you entertained too. Life is so beautiful…the only thing you need is to feel it.

Feel the wind, breathe the dust, flash a smile at the snooty child, displace the stone on your path, kick it around as though it were a football and stride out with confidence. It will be no news if you end up grounded for being the self-proclaimed princess at home always ordering others around. If you feel like one, you will surely act as one!

Baneshwor, it is always a busy place to be. A banda or no banda it is always men, men everywhere and not a single worth looking at. Some staring lazily from their uncomfortable seat on the railing, some angering the newspaper sellers by gulping down all the news but never buying the paper, some grinding the “chana” exercising their molars and some ogling at every female in sight as if they were walking out half naked with horns on their heads. And as I pass through that way a saying always echoes in my head “What vain unnecessary things men are and how well we do without them”. I ask myself why can’t we find women wasting their time in a similar manner. Gathered in some chowk, goofing around. Perhaps it is the trait of a patriarchal society, the men go out do whatever they want no body could care less. A woman ought to be at home. Once office is over it is housework, they toil day in and out and how can they find time to chew on chana, jeering every female in sight. It is so unfair, why do men have all the fun? Why do women have a greater sense of responsibility than men? Why do men have to be so hard to like?

My thoughts are interrupted by a popcorn seller’s “La makai , hai makai” right in my ears. It smells good and popcorn is my all season favorite but I don’t want to buy it from him. I have long ago realized that men and hygiene are distant cousins. Especially in case of men folks in this part of the globe. You never know when the visible to all wall turns into a piss hole for them. Can’t men exercise a bit more of self-control and stop acting like babies uncontrollable when it comes to answering nature’s call? The temperature is the same for both men and women so why this pee more frequently in winter thing among men? And as I am about to reach Koteshwore gate the first thing I see is a peeing daredevil in action. I am like, God! Can’t you grant a single day in my life without any peeing scene on the road in it??? Reaching the Banepa bus stand I take a look around at the dusty road, there is a man selling coconut and it makes me a little kindergarten schoolgirl once again. It takes me back to the days when I used to hang on to my father pleading him to buy that white fresh coconut everyday after school. I am just about to get nostalgic when all of my memories come to an abrupt halt by a noise in the background. It sounds like a running stream and like a bolt from the blue I realize that it is the SUPER PEE MAN himself! Man, his urinary bladder must have been about to burst. Hey guys, was it the WORLD PEE DAY in your Martian Calendar?

Waitin, wishin, watchin

If I had a laptop..to carry around wherever I went then this posting would have been here a couple of hours ago..But I don’t ….poor me-the poverty-striken student of social sciences..so here I am re-writing what I had poured out in my green notebook titled Clean-O-Super Capsule ( some only for ladies capsule)..So here comes my ramblings in the Shahid Gangalal Heart Hospital (it is not the exact name I guess)..Anyways take a read it was written as though it was already published.hehhe.these days I am blogging every thing in site,gone crazy I guess .

Waiting for your turn in a hospital is probably the most effective way to know how time sometimes crawls to its destination I guess. Moreover, when it is a hospital that specializes in heart disease any luck of catching a glimpse of hunks too fades away leaving you to wander among old baldies and yeah if you want to take a ride on the wild side you could even wink at them for amusement. But well aware of the fact that the older the men the more vulgar they are..I for one am better in this side of paradise. So here I am on this cold wooden bench with no well groomed guys to check out on and no stylish chicks in sight too. Hey wait, who is that in the lawn in front of me. Okay, A guy, so what the fuss? Anyways as there seems to be no other place to look at let me turn on my observation skills and have some fun. Well, what the hell is he doing? The sun seems to have made him feel totally warm and cozy so there he is taking the brownish grass below him to be his bed and lying in the Lord Vishnu posture, one hand resting on the ground and the other on his thighs eyes stuck to the newspaper below. Yeah, don’t be mistaken though I am not all eyes for the guy. There is absolutely nothing interesting I can see in him, it’s the same old average Nepalese men sense of winter fashions- black leather jacket and dull brown tailored pants. But as he is right in front of me I am doing what a women (sounds so not me) oughtta do, Comment on men! Of course.

Not much of hospital smell here,thank God for that. ( I seem to be drawing people’s attention to me, scribbling furiously as if something to make a front page news is happening here, visible only to me) haha..who cares anyway. I can’t re-gobble up each and every piece of writing in The Himalayan Times. Actually the only thing left to do with the newspaper is literally eat it up as I have gone through it ten times. My eyes now automatically shut at its sight. And reading that school section is the last thing I would be doing to keep myself preoccupied. It is the same old crap of those goody, goody school girls and boys “Don’t wait till the 11th hour”, life is precious sort of writings. I have had enough of those. There is some “Around the World in a day” article by some Ocenia Shakya and it seems as though the gal has been to almost all the places in the world a layman in Nepal knows of Great Wall, Sdyney Opera, Eiffel Tower, bla..blah. Must be some child of a filthy rich businessman. Who cares?

After 10 mins

Hey why the hell is that man some “Durga Prasad Sharma, Pradhyapak “Lecturer” (noticed it in his handbag) looking at me as if I am some museum specimen. Sure he wants to lecture me on a few things, maybe I look like some student of his, considering the fact that I am always like somebody else to most people I meet for the first time. Ah..How cheap can one’s looks be? Whatever. Even a lecture would be most welcome at this time..God I need something to calm my nerves before I am the next victim of a Heart-attack, the cause being “Too much of Patience”.

P.S. I waited for my mom to come to the hospital for exactly 2 hours (120 minutes) and some minutes all alone.