All in a wEEK

Define happiness – try as you or I might, there is no concrete definition to it. Every feeling within us has no definition other than our own Whatever be the definition its your own, just like your life, don’t let anyone define it for you. But know, that what you do, in turn is altering someone’s definition of life.
-Hysh( The Advent of Spring..Thoughts)

The end of Zade saga. I feel nothing.Absolutely normal. N that is the problem. When I am normal everything in reality is in total chaos. Go home, teach Pop the new way of shaking hands. Tell mom of my great rendzvous. Who did I meet Kamlesh, Bishwas, Pravina? It feels that normal. The only abnormality being a Journalist is shy!! Meetin new people is a day in and day out thing for them isn’t it? I don’t know. Professional Meeting, he said it would be not me. Wht makes people shy? Over candid people, shock caused by expectations……I don’t want to guess. N I am sorry for everything….every minute I wasted of the person..but it is the end I guess…life’s queer some things begin with coffee dates some end with one. Life flows..that’s the beauty.

Am in my office. A fren sends a message; I must have the courage and honesty to let you know that u are a special fren from whom I keep on getting inspiration to lead a worthy life. Vulnerable. Plain vulnerable by the reach of technology. That’s what I feel. Candid, my fren belongs to that group of people who can tell u just anything , anything on his mind. N he is misunderstood. We are in a theatre, he tells me that he got into trouble for being too candid the last nite. Wht the heck I tell him, u dare , u speak out so u stand out. Yah he goes. People only want to listen to fabricated things. Truth is unpalatable. A profound statement is made. After sometime he goes Thank You!
Why ? I am perplexed. He says, ” I really needed to hear that.”

My office sends me for a training..some Organizational skill thing..there is a game they make us play…teaching us of effective communication. We are standing in two rows. Mine has all guys in the line other than me. The man infront of me whispers in my ear ” Let us use condom properly” in Nepali. I whisper it to the guy behind me. The other line has women giggling..one of them really has a hard time passing it on to the guy behind her. Bal ho! I think. NGO stuff makes us bold. It is true or is it development studies? I can’t figure out. Ever since my Abortion presentation.in the1st Sem.I find nothing in this world uneasy to talk abt. It was a God ! Wht kind of question is this when Paruj asked me would you ever abort ur child? but I answered it..Since then there is no stopping no turning back..

In the next game we need to take appointment with each and every participant in the program. 4 o’ clock my appointment is with a guy named Suman. We need to share our problems with our partner. He tells me he is recovering from drug abuse. In the rehab they teach him to live one day at a time. Don’t do drugs today. Forget abt tomorrow. His family doesn’t understand it. They keep reprimanding him saying..wht the hell is with ur living one day at a time ? Talk of the future.. I am grateful to have met him. Everyone is special. Everyone has something to teach me, I have so much to learn.

Everyone has a sheet of paper pasted on their backs..the rest have to write something good abt the person they met only today. Our facilitator tells us u can state sth bad abt a person in a jiffy..but to find one good trait..you have to think hard . So true..People come to me …I go to them..we scribble on each other’s backs. I take the sheet of paper off my back..sb has written…Looks good! ( Weird I think)., Hasilo, Industrious, the eye catcher is “Pragati garna Sakne” ..One day, we were all acquaintances only for a day and how can people know u can make sth out of urself or not in such a short span of time..Wht is the prerequistive for knowing people? Time..how much time…How can u ever know that u know sb well enough? Philosophical? My fren was asking me if I was Socrates yesterday..I told her I was his granddaughter..Hahaha.

Malamal..I know it is a waste of money the very instant I agree to watch it. And my guess doesn’t miss the mark. Hits the bulls eye actually. Leave the hall distraught. The scorching heat adding to my mental turmoil. Where does money grow? On trees? Wht is wrong with me? How can I waste my time like this? N man. Wht’s with the members of my sex. Have u come to watch a movie, or walk on the ramp. I hate crowds, I hate that feeling…I am going crazy ..Nickel back in my head singing ” This is how u remind me of who I really am….” My room, I need to be home..prepare for a presentation…

Presentation completed today. Was in the middle of the Post-industrial society thing..when Kiran sir stopped me to say ” Wonderful . You have done a great job here.” I was totally perplexed..I saw nothing great abt it…Maybe he is a flower…eheh..Ful ko aankhan ma fulai sansara…later Section A come and joke abt making me a guest lecturer next week….hahaha…I’m like wht is with the people I know..Everyone around me is so wonderful….Blessed……Feel like Destiny’s Child sometimes…
I tried so hard and got this far
And in the end it does matter I guess..
(Hey Linkin Park bros..this time u are wrong)

The Mohameddian Cartoons

The publication of 12 cartoons depicting Muhammad in the Danish conservative daily newspaper Jyllads Posten with re-publications around the globe raged Muslim communities all over the world. Accompanied by an article on self-censorship and freedom of speech it was meant to highlight the difficulty experienced by Danish writer Kåre Bluitgen in finding artists to illustrate his children’s book about Muhammad. Instead, it took the form of an international crisis leading to death, violence, and protests. As of March 2, 2006, at least 139 people have been killed in the protests. Deaths have been mainly in Nigeria, Libya, Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Critics have differed in their views, some stating the cartoons to be culturally offensive. While others support the cartoons claiming there are similar cartoons about other religions. At variance that Islam and its followers have been targeted though the consequence of the publication turned violent. It sure did trigger questions on freedom of expression within a radically transforming world. Self-censorship that we so often practice informed with numerous sectarian considerations.

In a world as religiously, culturally and politically diverse as ours, expressions of thoughts are sure to clash. But this cannot encourage us as members of a particular stream of thought to endorse taboos compatible to our faith on others. Secular forms of emerging democracies are demanding more freedom in expression. Freedom of speech is being perceived as limitless. Sensitive issues are being encouraged to tackle.

By contrast, it does not mean that freedom to publish things mean you publish everything. Pornographic pictures are never encouraged. Censorship on press is however not the solution. Things in newspapers often offend us. Be it photos of war in Iraq, transcripts of speeches by terrorists. This should not be an excuse to manipulate the press. Demanding a special position in the press with considerations to our beliefs is incompatible with present-day democracy. We must be ready to put up with insults and mockery. Satire cannot be interpreted as treachery.

A constructive bond among the press, public and decision makers is the need of the hour. Any misunderstanding initiated by the press should be given a platform to justify. Decision makers with effective long-term programs must make viewpoints from both sides accessible, erasing controversies, opening the door for reconciliation. To call for censorship is only a totalitarian urge with more demands soon to follow. Freedom of speech can never be replaced by any law.

Well this isn’t by me..but my sister’s assignment. who loves to state the obvious lie i.e She the bachha is 20 yrs my junior!!! Look at the baby’s mind….child prodigee?..Something to think abt….N yeah don’t go..Oh she is so concerned abt press freedom..who wouldn’t be..when u are pursuing a career in media it..Hahaha.! Doin her BMS..find that for urself.

From Nepal Yatayat to comrades

I have a history with Nepal Yatayat!

Sounds a little out of the ordinary but couldn’t think of anything closer to the truth than this. It all began some four years ago, freshly out of school (10 yrs of bordered life) after S.L.C which was around the same time NY began its services. NY was my first acquaintance with public transportation services in the valley. So I have gone through all the stages of development of this popular NY Services: the supersonic NY (which resulted in a nasty experience of me falling into a puddle of dirty water as I got off the bus, the fateful day I got my Citizenship), the snail paced bus everyone complained about and as of some days ago the most efficient transportation in Kathmandu. And my experience as a regular commuter of the bus for the last two years and a frequent one before that portrays NY as a world of its own.

Once it was travelling with a stranger, who offered me hints about studying Science in +2 who even paid my fare stating he knew the financial woes of a student. In yet another event, a man with glasses giving that serious and cultured look, a fine wrist watch (status symbol in my book of fashion) gave me the shock of my life grabbing my waist!! Thank God! Was clad in the uniform blazer, though unfortunately was too appalled at 17 to do anything other than constantly shove his hands off me. My first harassment experience. Recently I gave a “Tapain Ko problem chahin ke ho”dialogue (though in between laughs) to a guy mocking me in NY last seat passing comments on my watch! Mission Vengeance Accomplished. Grew up with the experiences in NY, you could say that again.

Out of +2, was time for university, I chose a college located in a place best expressed by the term “ Ajakalto” to which no direct transportation was available other than NY. That meant being totally dependent on NY (but it never crossed my mind until the services were ceased until yesterday). I took it for granted. So did many of my friends residing in Koteshwor, Minbhawan, Shantinagar, Anamnagar, Putalisadak. Get on the bus and though initially it might have been the conductor yelling “Seat cha” (meaning everyone else is seated on it other than you) we were sure to get one before reaching college. I t was plain luxury, a public bus stopping right in front of the college gates. Even being on the bus at 6:40 when college gates closed at 7 calmed our nerves with the fact of being dropped right on the spot. But now 125 of the NY buses have gone into hiding, along with 75 of the Kantipur Yatayat ones. The street almost looks empty without the light brown machines on wheels. 200, does the number look funny to you? It transported a hundred thousand passengers everyday i.e. FIVE ZEROES after a one. Ring a bell? Comrades.

What do those 1, 00000 do now? Is anyone even concerned about them? We have to change two buses, as if our lives weren’t already hectic enough. My friend Emma has to make it from Thimi to Baluwatar by 6:45 every morning. Earlier leaving home at 5:45 was fine. A bus till Koteshwor and then NY Jindabad. Now she needs to get on the Shahidgate bus, 2 buses, the case is the same but the uncertainty of reaching college in time has her hurrying to college earlier. And even the No. 27 microbus from RNAC only goes till Bhatbhateni. Baluwatar is close by but she has already developed the habit of getting off right in front of the college gate, Remember? She isn’t the only one. Rosina ( Balkumari), Kabita ( Gwarko), Kamlesh ( even Baneshwore), Manisha ( Anamnagar) all have their share of woes.

It’s early in the morning in front of RNAC, very few people in the otherwise human crammed pavement. One can see the orange sun slowly rising through the open fields of Tudikhel but my friend doesn’t want to observe it. She tells me, “This is awful. If it was only one problem whether it be load shedding, Maoist insurgency, hike in prices or the blockades some consideration could be made. But its everything and no Nepal Yatayat to add to it. What kind of place do we live in?” I’m half listening, half engrossed in enjoying the serene vehicle free environment around me. She brings me back to senses and I feel ashamed for being half-attentive. I hate this extra positive mindedness in me. I’m thinking “Its alright. Now because of travelling in a different vehicle I’m getting to know what another part of Kathmandu looks like in the early morning. Less pollution, less horns to irritate my senses.” But keeping cranks like me aside, it is absolutely no fun to walk in the midday scorching heat from Baluwatar to Anamnagar. The NY bus stop was right in front of my office but I see no use in travelling all the way to Ratnapark to come back to Anamnagar. It is waste of money. You could argue it is waste of time. Obviously! It is bounded rationality way of decision making in practice, the need to save money is vital here. When you have boasted your folks at home to fulfil all your personal needs with whatever little you earn including the ever so expensive dentist fees walking is the only choice. Your reputation is in question!

Students, we always suffer the most. On one hand it is the pressing need to be financially independent making you ill at ease with the mere thought of begging alms for every petty expense you make while with the constant price hikes, there is never enough money. Problems are on the rise in every sector and being a youth in Nepal is a problem in itself. In the villages you are the perfect choice for the so called People’s army (where the person is never given the choice). In cities, the exposure results in making you over ambitious, you dream too big everyone remarks. When the reality is even an MA doesn’t fetch you a job. I recently read an article where a MBA graduate was planning to try his hands in poetry (his mom still the breadwinner). That makes it obvious why every one in two youth here aspires to go abroad. Whether it is a tile making factory in Dubai or dishwashing in Japan it just doesn’t matter.

And every time I tune into the news: the increase in hours of load shedding, price hikes in petroleum products, 80% rise in prices of vegetables, the flooding of roads with fresh milk makes me wonder if is it the last straw? Nothing seems to be the last straw for us. We eventually get used to everything. Thanks to our Comrade well-wishers who have increased our tolerance limits. I try to reason it out from their perspective. How can the government increase petroleum prices? How dare NY and KY run vehicles in a Nepal Banda called by us? An ambulance on the road during a blockade, how dare people fall sick during a blockade! It must be shot. Monarchy in Nepal sucks but still I draw my inspiration from the great PN Shah. His blockade tactics to conquer the capital should work.

Ah…Comrades it is the 21st century. You need the people’s support to rule. The “cut the noses of the soldiers who didn’t take off shoes” style gets you nowhere. It only shows that you don’t even exercise control over your own aggressive senses. You seem to be over concerned about us Nepalese. You so well understand us; we love Nepal Bandas so why the hell run buses during one. I think you even expect a pat on the back for your style of cutting the head itself because the mouth spoke something foul. Will that ever stop all the other heads from talking? You can’t take of peace by gagging us all. Mind you, even the hushed silence talks of a passive revolution slowly gaining momentum.It is just not the way things are done. We need change in your ways and not merely hyped interviews with headlines “We want no bloodshed, we are all for what people want”.

The issue raised by your own so called “unnecessary by products of revolution” hasn’t missed the mark either. You talk big; keep your children aloof from all the hazards in a nation you intend to bring to ruins. But what about the millions of children of an average Nepali citizen like us? We can’t escape to some Harvard or Cambridge by mere choice. And many of us have opted to be here anyways, opted to find that bright future our friends are seeking abroad. We are here as we want to be a part of this historical moment , we want to make sure that people like you live up to your words of changing the system for good this time, starting by you changing your ways first.

Politics is what a layman understands, what s/he experiences day in and day out. It is not big talk, but little actions that influences our lives. It is the price of tomato, the closure of school, the death of a pregnant woman due to the banda and every little thing a person can comprehend on the grounds of being a citizen of this country. And sometimes I feel as though politics is everything else but what our government, the parties, Maoists and the monarch ever care to think about.

Kamlesh’s Poetic side

Hey guys, this is for the ones who haven’t really got to know the poetic side of our own Kamlesh. I know most are unaware of it, there is still the 2 sections not well acquainted with one another thing going on. But I guess we have a new blog gang formed now so… Here is why I think he is John Keats. One of the hundreds of poems he has written till date. And this is one among the few I have been able to comprehend in one reading…its simple yet so touching. So inspiring. Something like a little bud in spring rekindling the fire in you to live…once again…. Just brilliant! (Wish I had known a more expressive adjective)…. Your opinion needn’t necessarily be the same…. the perception of beauty varies…but one reading doesn’t hurt and who knows beauty might be the same for all as well….

Let’s die this summer,

Or let’s hide, runaway

And appear back this winter

Let them search us and die

We’ll anyhow meet them one day

And then we’ll tell them

Where we had been

When they were searching us in vain

All sodden in rain.

We will tell them

We got lost in a strange road,

A road that told us stories,

A road that created stories

And a road that itself was a story.

We’ll tell them our own story,

And tell them its one of the stories

That we were told

When we were away from home,

And I’m sure the next day

They too will run away

In search of a road

That never really existed

Let’s create a story

Let’s run away

Let’s meet life, and tell it a story

Or let’s hide,

And be on the news and be a story

But let’s do something

And create a story.

-KAMLESH (March 05,2006)

I think I just realized what I should do with my life:

Do something. Just anything… Create a story.

Back to Reality

Back guys. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuulo..the Japanese now gone…ah leaving memories behind. A week of chaos..life is so much like the river current, we mere tiny pebbles in it. You plan something but the intruder, unseen hands does away with it. So only a week ago I am the drama queen at home “Bohooooing” ( bet no word as such exists) about retiring from job and then I have this Nagarkot trip, then the Japanese are here, my office puts me in a three day training ( obviously missed it- I am not a Goddess to be present at two places at the same time) and mid-week my boss wants me in off like Bush huntin for Osama..oH God! give me a break and then the Gender movie review.,Kiran Sir names for a presentation this Thurs..ah and the anatomy is destiny thing..What am I Superwoman?..And at office all alone feeling nostalgic about the Japanese project..Oh Toshio..Miss u man..So sad..and all my turn into a reporter write for TKP things have vanished into thin air… Why? Of course, my day has only 24 hours not 48.Don’t yOU know.
Kamlesh man, thanks for the Sigmund Buda stuff..Hugs to you.Ani Jaz aba Japan jane hoina, let’s start packing.!! Yahooo..!HEHEHE
N for this green background.( Green is the color of life)..a little romantic secret related to it..time bhaye ..will post an entry..Keep guessing..hehehh.

Day 1 of the Nineteen day Historic Movement in Nepal

Hi guys. Sorry for the delay, the net problem here. Anyways here it comes and Hope it gives you a clear picture of what happened in the strike Day 1. Let me begin by introducing myself, haha. Nope not doing away with my so well concealed identity. This entry will have my photo though..…Stick around sth to look forward to!

I was a Human Rights Monitor, the one clad in a blue jacket with Human Rights Observation written on the back. Seven O’clock I was supposed to be at the Koteshwor Chowk. So left home to reach my monitoring area just in time. A clear sky, clean air to complement it I walked past the garage. The ultimate strike of the political parties I thought, a tangible outcome, maybe this time for sure? Did every one on the street feel that wind of change as put by leaders? The zeal to come out on the streets, to burn tires, to yell slogans against the king, how many would come out for supporting the cause, how many just for the heck of it? Would the cause matter? (N my little cousin is debating Spiderman really exists, just told his Dad in Dubai to get him a Spiderman outfit, he says he can fly if he gets the dress. God this globalization effect) what is the pre requisite to ensure its success? A crowd of people, a lot of hype in the media, the deafening silence of the so called know it alls? Thinking tank, I think I will die of ponderings.

As I was walking on the bridge I could see a woman digging sand in the river below. Life goes on I thought. Everyone needs to survive. For hundreds like her it is a one-day life story. Each day is different, disconnected with what is to happen tomorrow, unconcerned about what went happened yesterday. I got some pic, two to be exact, of her. I moved on.

At the Koteshwor Chowk I met my Human Rights monitor partners. I knew no one among them. My colleague couldn’t make it. The busiest people there were the newspaper sellers. How many had bought a copy of the newspapers, how many just going through the borrowed copy from the seller! I couldn’t make out. I observed. There was a police Tata pickup parked there, have noted its number on my Paperline Spiral Pad but that can have implications I guess, so better not mentioned. I wanted to take a pic but a policeman came up to me to say “ Ke khicheko, basirakheko cha”. I put back my camera. He got on the pick up, glaring at me so that I made no attempt to take it out once again. He wore a mask covering his face beneath his eyes, same as me. Some similarity I thought. Eyes, the only way to detect the emotions. I raised my eyebrows in surprise; he stared back at me. A van with Mahedra Dev Pandey ( UML leader) passed by. (see the pic)

The truck sped off towards the Koteshwor gate area. A HR Monitor inquired about the two blasts he heard sometime ago. “Dashain ko Bomb ho ki!” someone answered immediately realizing the bomb error in it. A man in a bicycle stopped by us to share his insights about the protest that was to occur sometime later. “ People are protesting outside Madhav Kumar Nepal’s house” he remarked. He lives in that area so the roads are pitched, there is running water. Other place there is a lack of everything.

A group of 5 to 7 seven came protesting against monarchy. People understand 70% of the message through visual medium; I remember that from the Development Communication class. So here is what happened then in the photos to follow. Seven people were arrested: Pashupati Chaulagain, Lal Kumar K.C (confused abt the first name, can’t make the handwriting), Bimala Pradhan, Chatra Bahadur Karki, Kamala Parajuli, Ananda Pokharel and Jhapat Bhandari.

(The portion below this is what I wrote in Koteshwor itself, instant blogging maybe)

There is a Sri Manakamana Mai Ki Jay truck parked in front of me. A policeman is reading the newspaper at a distance. It would have been better if I would take a picture of him but after the first round of warning I don’t want to attempt. Maybe that’s cowardice on my part. A HR Monitor, a blogger, a reporter and an observer. Some traits you are born with. Observing is mine. It’s the easiest and most effective reporting after all. And scribbling I guess is a right in a country where we are fighting for press freedom. Doesn’t it exist?

Some action would have been better! This passivity, merely observing the empty roads does have a story to tell though. It is what we, most Nepalese are, passive. I remember the recent discussion in class. Who’ll go in the protest? Who wants to be involved?
A blue press Pulsar just passed by.

Instant gain, its what we seek. Instant changes don’t last. Instant gratification comes in excitement, ends in chaos. I should move on to talking I guess. Observing is a one-man affair. Talking is expanding horizons, connecting.

Don’t stand by the railing.
Don’t sit on it. The police just dispersed people around it. I too got off immediately.

Kehi Bhai halla jasto cha, Kehi bhayeko chaina. Another HR monitor is talking to sb on the phone.

The policeman is back telling the bystanders “ Ekai thauma jhundirahanu parcha ra?”

“Chodera jadaula ahile. Chuppa lagera basne ki nabasne!” The father of two little kids, clad in blue pajamas is threatening his child. Out from the bed, straight on the road. He looks like that. The little boy is shrieking, pretending to cry, not a single tear rolling down his cheeks! Look it’s the police he was pointing out to the other sibling excitedly sometime ago.

A boy my age, ear studs, green sweatshirt is standing at a distance. He seems to be confused about where to look. He is glancing sideways, trying to be inconspicuous while looking at our direction, observing the HR monitors. But the Observer, he can’t escape. Confused like the hundreds like him. To be or not to be. What difference does it make if I am protesting? Yell and everything is still the same. What is the gain? You attempt to change the system; the system changes you. Makune and Girija aren’t going to change anytime soon. You can’t teach an old dog new trick. I feel I have seen the guy somewhere, but I don’t remember. Though not in my dreams for sure!

We need a hero in Nepal. It was the topic of conversation among my friends sometime ago. Someone like Gandhi, a Mandela. Someone to draw inspiration from. Why can’t we be heroes ourselves? I believe in Bonjovi “Everyone’s a hero, everyone’s a star.”

8:42
More bicycles on the road.

Two people were arrested from Mahadevsthan. It happened just before I reached the spot. “ Gyane chor, desh chod” somebody just yelled. Lucky guy, the crowd was small. The people instantly dispersed. The police are confused, didn’t arrest anyone. The man, whoever he was is sure a daredevil. Kudos to the yell man! (See the photo the confused police)

We are walking towards the Balkumari area now. A man stopped us to say “ Parcha Pauna Tapain haruko” (Can I have your leaflets). We weren’t carrying any! His neck has fresh red scars. One on his face stands out against his white complexion.

He is saying “ Ma yahin ko hun, Nepal ko. Sthiti bhujnuparyo. Internet ma rakhnu. Ma thyahan aunchu.” I’m sure he doesn’t know what he is saying. Drunk? I can’t tell the difference between drunkards and the so-called normal people. Both kinds are more of pretenders I gather.

A woman just threw a stone at a bike that passed by on the road. He stopped his bike to say “ Party ko manche ho”. Amako operation cha he added. (See the photo, the guy in the red jacket, helmet, surrounded by a crowd of people) Why can’t we have a people friendly strike? A couple arrived in a bike. Someone shouted..Han..Han.. The boy, man! Just zoomed off the bike to the other direction instantly. That’s what I call speed. Dating plans, foiled I guess. Another Tourist Only vehicle speed off like nothing on the road I had ever observed, releasing black smoke from its rear end, its engine roaring to action.

Am in front of the army barrack on my way to Jadibuti. A man just stopped a police vehicle to say “ Malai ekdum jaruri cha” (It is urgent). They gave him a lift. The Police are humans after all, just like everybody.

After noon

A man came up to me sometime ago. “Tapain haru jasto hamilai protection dinu parne manche le pani darayera kina mukha chopeko” (The BBC is talking of the Curfew going on here, the ..Mathew sth.. Charles Haviland is reporting of the shoot on site..the mobiles have been cut off). I explained to him that it wasn’t the fear of identity. I had an allergy on my face, I pointed to my forehead. I have it on my cheeks too. So they are swollen and the sun only aggravates the itch and burning sensation. I haven’t been able to go the Doctor’s due to the strike. I wanted to tell him what my fren commented on seeing my cheeks “Syau jhain gala hune, syau jhain gala. Yeuta ta tokchu, tokchu jyan gaye jala!!!” Of course I didn’t.

The Nepal one crew is here. The reporter asked a man “ Prajatantra ka lagi bhanchan ni yo hadtal?”

“Prajatantra ta cha ni deshma”. The man answered.

(Nepal FM is bringing in the news: Kausaltar Police station has been completely destroyed, 5000 protesting in Bhaktapur, many protesting in Baneshwor, Tinkune, and Minbhawan defying the curfew)

As the crowd dispersed I heard someone remark “ Prajatantra, Ke ka lagi Prajatantra?” (Democracy, Democracy for what?)

There is nothing to do other than look at the “ Jungle Ki Haseena” poster on the street lamp”. (See the pic). A human rights monitoring vehicle just stopped by. A man got off; he is a well-known journalist and also an activist. He shook hands with everyone, did Namaste to the lady HR monitor. I was standing at a distance. He didn’t care to look at me; I didn’t bother.

Sometimes I feel so disconnected with everything around me. As if I am observing my life from somebody else’s eyes. A third person view. I don’t belong to the Activists gang, not a journalist or a reporter; blogging is an act I don’t want to be labeled a blogger either. Do I need to belong? I don’t give a damn.

You know a person by the way s/he treats fellow beings deemed lower to them in any sense (income, education, access to resources, experience) Ashish’s reiterated this dialogue of his uncle to me when we were walking in search of Balgrihas last Jan. It stuck to my mind. A profound statement.

(Our observation session ended finally. It was a windy afternoon. Dust flying everywhere. Mustang must be like this I thought. Everyone went home, I wanted to observe so I headed to Baneshwore)

I reached Minbhawan, noted the number of Nepal Korea Dongsan Skin Clinic. Finally, I thought after all those calls to 197, Ask me (none of them had the number). A man stopped by to inquire what happened? Pointing at the debris on the street. I don’t know I replied. He happened to be a HR monitor as well. So we walked together to Baneshwore. He talked of the Human rights organizations, the feuds, and the lack of unity. I listened to him, I learnt.

(At the moment Ek nazar main bhi pyar hota hai, main ne suna hai

Do bato main bhi ikrar hota hai; main nai suna hai …is being aired. I love the beat, Kool job by Bappi Laheri)

Baneshwore bus stop. There were guys going…hooo…ha..yelling just for the heck of it. Ready to throw stones at any vehicle passing by. There was a shower of rain. (I’ve taken 2 pics of Baneshwore, couldn’t get many pics , sorry 4 that ..had to delete many pics to accommodate it all..the memory card is less and it’s not my camera, not even my fren’s A distant..sb I don’t know..arkako tesh mathi pani ramro kasari khojnu…Bal ho..thankful for this anyway)

I walked towards the BICC area. I was scribbling on my notebook. “Life is full of adventure” a guy read my T-shirt. Patrakar hola sb remarked.

“Hoina” I wanted to reply. I am just like you, who after the realization that she would be completing goddamn two decades of existence without making anything of herself is doing this. What difference does it make? I debated with myself. I walk alone; I scribble on the bus stands, on the road, try to look beyond what catches the eye. So what, nothing. People come up to me to say, U can be a politician in a mocking tone. To articulate what is on your mind is art I want to yell. Am I being a press button I ask myself? Bal ho, the expression lets go of all tensions. I don’t seek to bring an upheaval doing this. Its mere pursuing passion. Being yourself after all these years of cocooning your emotions. Feels like breaking free…. One fine day I’ll exist no more. But when I do, let me be Alive and Kicking. Living not merely breathing in Oxygen and breathing out Carbon Dioxide. Now, I bet my bottom dollar that I will die of a disease called “ Thought Block”!!!

“Bahine Rumal Kholideu” a “ Maile Nabanayeko Dai” remarked in Tinkune.

“Mukh ma ke bhayo” another one inquired as I reached the bus stand.

I felt like retorting “ Tero Tauko Bhayo” ..haha. But I didn’t. Just kept walking. I sometimes wonder if boys have a defective syndrome called “ Inquisitive abt things that don’t concern you”, maybe an illusion “ Welcome: Poke your nose”.

3:13

I just walked past a couple. There is another one right in front of me. Aren’t there any singletons left in Kathmandu? Someone from the other side remarked “S.L.C ta siddhisakyo”. Oh yeah! That’s news .I was the 2058. Batch …little brother!

Hmm..my Nakap lako photo..having second thoughts..won’t put it I think ..:) There’s a danger in knowing Zade. How thoughtful of me to be concerned about u all! Aren’t u glad?

Casual talk..Guff

Wondering where I vanished?

Thin air. Obviously.

(Was that what you thought, the same old crap…give me a break., guys. Can’t you assume something better?)

What have you guys been doing other that wondering why isn’t Zaded posting any new entries? Hahah…. nothing better to entertain you? I’ve been privileged to hear some really interesting news in college,..Wht about you? And here’s the one that tops the list: Kamlesh ran away. Where from? Where to? But I saw him in college you may find yourself answering. That’s the catch. You only know half the story. Get him to tell you the rest the next time you are privileged enough to catch the glimpse of his face behind that long hair. Slow down buddy, your hair is growing faster than Bomjan’s. How dare you outrun him? He is the Budhha..hehe.he. Angry? How about letting me do the honors of releasing the intoxicated secrets???? That would be the best read ever…. this isn’t a bus, you can’t say I wanna get down. Hahaha. I’m lovin it.

Moving on to the next: Sumee dear is growing fairer day after day. Ask her the secret. Ah..and why that shy smile? Hahaha.. By the way you have the freedom of calling me zaaaaaaaaded, zadddddddded, anything you like Honey, that’s not my name anyway.. How are you oye GOLAG, opps is it gol matol, gole..I just forgot..What meaningful name, I can’t make head or tail out of it. Bless me with that divine knowledge dear..I am but thy naïve servant in matters of the mind..GOLAG (Gang of Ladies and Gentlemen).

Hysh Da Hero Wht is with you gal? What part of GET A LIFE MAN don’t you understand? Lose control…one more time. Take charge, for there is no replacement for someone like you. Come on. Be back.

Yeh sala, abhi abhi

Huwa yakin, ki aag he

Mujhme kahin

Huwi subha main chalgaya

Suraj ko main nikalgaya

And Jazz all excited about seeing Ryuki once again? Ah..those patient ears of yours listening to all his Japanese numbers all the way to Nagarkot!! If Ryuki could articulate himself well in Eng he would surely have said, “ Jazz dear, you have no idea what it meant to be listened to like that”. He sent me a mail saying that, haha the one forwarded to all.

Bikash bro, you can see him clad in black, smile all through the class deepening his dimples. Wanna know what’s with him? Hanano, of course.

Daisuke? All that fanning and wiping my face with the Japanese fan and traditional hankie seem to have made no difference man. Why does this only happen to me? Yahan manche lai sarai rag bhaisakyo. Aba Nepali ta bhetaiyena, thikai thiyo. Bideshi pani yesto? Seriously thinking of migrating to Mars. Bet aliens can understand me better. Hhhahahha.hooohahahah… I can already see dear Daisuke in front of me, never being able to look at my face while conversing, blushing when Kali goes you are cute and yeah the only time he isn’t shy is when he is playing the Japanese game and with Yuki. I was ill at ease the day we were to meet the Jap gang, someone new, Japanese, a guy, was totally out of my mind. And then I am with this world’s Shy NO 1 guy sitting next to me staring down at the table supposedly the best piece of furniture ever made. I’m bombarding him with questions, have problems making sense of his murmuring voice and I wonder if the first meeting with the Japanese is to be some sort of informal quiz like ceremony. He truly shocks me. My earlier notion of being the one who is always so uncomfortable among new human forms evaporates as I realize there is a case worse than mine. I completely understand what sb meant when they said “ Our faults irritate us the most, when we see it in others”. I feel like yelling hey man what is with you? Do I look like a ghost, Dracula so frightening? Haven’t you seen any monkey face before? I thought it was closer to me, but seems like I am more related to those distant nocturnal cousins. Maybe this time I will try a different tactics going Anatawa ..(la I forgot) Kakkoi , is it cute..oh god! (You have grown cuter). Someone translate it, please. He’ll be here anytime.

P.S. Will post more entries later hai, working on them. It’s been an lively week, Tara baji, Palpasa (seriously found it better than RDB, closer to us) National conference..and this self imposed duty of completing some articles. Promised mom to have my article published this time for sure, or else can call me Khasi re, don’t know wht I was thinking when I said that! God save me b4 I really turn into one. Kamlesh you with me, aren’t you? Absolutely no intentions of hearing a NO for an answer. Hysh write stories man..come on. Can’t let our creative juices go to waste just like that! And if you guys are really serious about making a difference here is something you can do. Log on to http://www.essaycompetition.org. I can tell you what’s there but not everything tastes good when spoon-fed. This is one. Just do it!