I have been meaning to elaborate my 140 word sentiments for quite sometime now. Thoughts about the Indefinite Maoist Strike, thoughts about the innumerable strikes before this, the peace rally euphoria among Kathmandu-ites (or whatever that makes us sound global), middle class and everything else. Somehow, I find myself unable to do any of those. It’s like being taken hostage by the need to start and end everything in 140 words. The illusion (or not) that anything more than 140 is devoid of honesty. When words exceed the limit there is a need to sit down and ponder if they are coherent or not, if it makes sense of not. All hazards of writing coming down on me like torrential rainfall. And apart from the ‘after’ writing worries there is the constant debate in my head about the issue I wish to write about.