Voyage through mind
Trekking along steadfast
All queer passed. Strong will wins at last
Fears of rejection,
Tears of dejection,
She is an ordinary girl,
A dark complexion!
A few women are coming,
To see her,
They want a match,
For a promising youth,
She is excited,
Her heart is beating,
She is twenty-nine!
She is attractive.
She is lean and smart,
She is educated,
A working woman,
A bank officer,
She is famous for her cooking,
She is famous for her sewing,
She is famous for her knitting,
Has a kind heart,
Ready to serve,
She had made up,
Her eyes like stars,
She has dressed her hairs,
Shining and silky,
She has selected,
The best dress she has.
At the scheduled time,
The promising youth,
With her mother,
And two younger sisters,
All having dark complexion,
And a bulky body,
And the belly of the youth,
A really fun!
Came to see her,
They saw her,
They talked to her,
They asked questions,
About her job and her salary,
And while leaving,
The old woman said,
Although her complexion is dark,
Although we don’t expect,
A handsome dowry,
Still, We select her.
After their departure,
The girl went into her room,
And started crying,
She could not say her mother,
They haven’t selected me,
They selected my income!
Oh, horrid ways of emotions.
All actions tried are of no use.
All actions acted are useless.
No matter the action it is all in vain.
I can’t go anywhere
Running is useless and of no point.
I can’t go nowhere.
Even if the option were open.
Oh depression horrible depression
Hold me back ever more
Pin me down with the force of your grace.
Depression my one true friend.
A sad dark and lonely place.
Sit on the walls.
It is so sad and vacant.
Vacant like my happy days.
Depression takes me
More and more each day.
Feeding on my sadness.
This is an everlasting scar
A scar not to heal
A scar not to mend.
It will bring me to my end
Depression is when you hate everyone around
Depression is when you don’t want to make a sound
Depression is when all you want to do is cry
Depression is when you feel like your dying inside
Depression is when your thoughts wonder all the time
Depression is when you can’t sleep even though you’re tired
Depression is when you don’t want to go on
Depression is when you can’t stop shaking outside
Depression is when you hide who you are
Depression is when you put on a mask to hide what you feel
Depression is when you feel weak all the time
Depression is when you give in to everything around
Depression is when you don’t care what happens anymore
Depression is just another day in my life
At Night –
I just hold it in my hands
And read those for a while,
Feeling close to you…
And falling off to sleep
With your messages
In my Mobile.
It’s Festive Time Today
Auspicious Durga Pooja Day
May be my time is not Right
Or my mood is not Festive
And hence – I’ve been
miserably crying away
all through the day.
Once more we talk about it.
How sad it’s all become.
No matter how we look at it
this family is not one.
They say it shouldn’t matter.
Who needs them after all?
But, please explain the pain I feel
even though I’ve got it all.
I see my pain and emptiness
like a hollowed out old tree…
It may seem to be standing tall
but, it’s empty just like me.
There’s such a contradiction
to my entire life.
I’m happy and fulfilled
being a mother and a wife.
What about ‘a sister’
and ‘a daughter’…how about that?
These are roles I was born to play.
Why can’t I? Tell me that.
A family divided
that’s what we’ve grown to be.
I’ve got mine and you’ve got yours
but we have no family tree.
We bought an electric monkey, experimenting rather
recklessly with funds carefully gathered since
grandfather’s time for the purchase of a steam monkey.
We had either, by this time, the choice of an electric
or gas monkey.
The steam monkey is no longer being made, said the monkey
But the family always planned on a steam monkey.
Well, said the monkey merchant, just as the wind-up monkey
gave way to the steam monkey, the steam monkey has given way
to the gas and electric monkeys.
Is that like the grandfather clock being replaced by the
Sort of, said the monkey merchant.
So we bought the electric monkey, and plugged its umbilical
cord into the wall.
The smoke coming out of its fur told us something was wrong.
We had electrocuted the family monkey.
We’ve got a family album
Like a family tree
A thrill to turn the pages
The pictures we can see
Starting off with grands and greats
Then slowly down the line
Like a book of history
A journey through the time
Fashions start to alter
Mustaches come and go
Ladies skirts skip up and down
A proper fashion show
Top hats change to boaters
To caps then none at all
Ladies bonnets disappear
And so does grannies shawl
Picture’s change to colour
Black and white has gone
A different place, a different time
So much to look upon
But what is so amazing
Is the likeness we can see
Showing up the genes
Right through our family tree
the tree cut,
dawn breaks early
at my little window
In the coolness
of the empty sixth-month sky…
the cuckoo’s cry.
Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were,
I saw within my troubled head a heap of thoughts appear,
And every thought did show so lively in mine eyes,
That now I sigh’d, and then I smil’d, as cause of thought did rise.
I saw the little boy, in thought how oft that he
Did wish of God to scape the rod, a tall young man to be;
The young man eke, that feels his bones with pains oppress’d,
How he would be a rich old man, to live and lie at rest;
The rich old man, that sees his end draw on so sore,
How he would be a boy again, to live so much the more.
Whereat full oft I smil’d, to see how all these three,
From boy to man, from man to boy, would chop and change degree.
And musing thus, I think the case is very strange
That man from wealth, to live in woe, doth ever seek to change.
Thus thoughtful as I lay, I saw my wither’d skin,
How it doth show my dinted jaws, the flesh was worn so thin;
And eke my toothless chaps, the gates of my right way,
That opes and shuts as I do speak, do thus unto me say:
“Thy white and hoarish hairs, the messengers of age,
That show like lines of true belief that this life doth assuage,
Bids thee lay hand and feel them hanging on thy chin,
The which do write two ages past, the third now coming in.
Hang up, therefore, the bit of thy young wanton time,
And thou that therein beaten art, the happiest life define.”
Whereat I sigh’d and said: “Farewell, my wonted joy,
Truss up thy pack and trudge from me to every little boy,
And tell them thus from me: their time most happy is,
If to their time they reason had to know the truth of this.”
I must admit I struggled to pick the right title for this article. I toyed with two others: ‘Think like Mahendra’ and ‘Economic empowerment of the mountain poor’. The first one sounded like a eulogy to the late king, and the second one sounded more like the title of an essay of a development organisation. There is an interesting legend behind ‘jhiti gunta’. Apparently moved by the destitution of a certain mountain tribe living in a desolate, barren, beautiful land on a Himalayan plateau where nothing could be grown at the time, Mahendra launched the scheme with the noble intention of raising their living standard. Today, this tribe is one of the most successful business communities in the country, and their land is pregnant with the finest varieties of apples and other healthy, lifestyle foods as well as niche tourism.
Back then, ‘jhiti gunta’ not only empowered and enriched them, but also employed and offered opportunities to a large number of youths across the nation at a time when there was nothing much to do except discuss politics and wolf whistle at damsels. Industrious youths travelled mainly to Bangkok and Hong Kong and carried back a set of prescribed goods for personal use, at little or no customs duty that found their way into the markets of Kathmandu. As more people became aware of the benefit of the trade, youths from other ethnic groups embraced the travelling trade. They took couriers or human mules to bring back personal wear, electronic and household appliances, gold and silver within the duty exempt limit. The mules entrusted their passports and sold their foreign exchange facility, limited to $200 or so, to the youth traders. Often, the traders also made deals with people working in embassies and on foreign shores to buy their personal privileges to import expensive goods. At Hong Kong and Bangkok airports, it would be an amusing sight to behold. Heavily clothed mules could be spotted huddled together, each wearing as many as five shirts, layers of jackets, trousers, socks, saris, three-tola gold chains and bracelets, a silver bar, watches, caps and sunglasses with price tags dangling on strings.
Upon landing at Gauchar, there would be a carnival scene, a pleasant pandemonium, with everyone from immigration and customs to loaders brimming in anticipation of a windfall. After they emerged from the airport, the mules would be herded into a bus and driven to a safe location to be stripped of all they were wearing including the gold ornaments. ‘Jhiti gunta’ eventually gave way to watch, dollar and gold smuggling. But the mountain tribe has joined the constellation of the nouveau riche here and abroad, thanks to Mahendra’s initiative at poverty alleviation.
A transcendental being clothed in white
ascends the golden staircase
to a sea of glimmering glass.
Seven blue spheres orbit a marble pillar
where a silver goldfinch is perched
singing praises to the Lord.
The creature of light
walks to the pillar
and smashes the bird
in its fist.
Light turns to darkness
blood drips from the spheres
onto the sea.
Two monkeys rush in
and desperately begin to clean
the mess from the floor.
The creature sighs
and lies down
A gray cloud looms above the horizon,
darkening the blue skies.
A steady drizzle soaks the clothes
of a young boy and his wet hair
clings to his head as he sits alone
in a deserted park.
Tears blend with raindrops
emptiness echoes with thunder.
A forgotten a starving orphan
abandoned by the world
whimpers inside the girl
wearing a false smile
and pretending to enjoy life.
who has been honored and praised
through the entire history
of human literature.
Are you really worthy
of all that flattery?
Who would have thought
a flower whose stem
is covered with thorns
would become the most commonly praised
flower in all of history?
I am sorry dear Rose,
but you do not compare
to the orchid, the violet, the marigold,
the geranium or rhododendron.
You are selfish and arrogant
believing you are the best.
Even the dandelion has its charm,
what makes you better than the rest?
Yet who am I
to contest the greatest poets who have ever lived?
Who am I to protest your overuse and abuse?
You who have become cliche.
The body serves as a caterpillar
to house the soul in its larval state
then the soul blossoms
like a butterfly
with power and beauty
far greater than the body could ever have.
A fluttering glory
transcending time and space,
a brilliant light blinking into existence
and exuding brilliance.
Witness all the beings who trivialize life
reduce their gift to perceptual concern
over insignificant frivalities.
Worried about their bodies and possessions
while neglecting their immortal soul.
Seeking power over mere molehills
while burying their true potential power;
attempting to gain unimportant knowledge
while ignoring buried treasures of wisdom.
Bodies controlling their lives
as they completely forget their true selves.
The soul is separate from the body,
no only are they separate – they are enemies.
What the soul needs the body protests,
what the body desire the soul detests.
Why should this opposition occur,
why should their desires not concur?
Well the soul and body have different needs
and to serve the one means to neglect the other.
Pain and hunger, thirst and knowledge
these are of the body
but joy and sorrow, anger and guilt,
love and wisdom are of the soul.
To search for food, to strive for wealth,
to benefit our bodies
means to feel envy and greed and to corrupt our souls,
but to give to the poor, and to fast and pray
feeds our souls but corrupts our bodies.
तिम्रा साथ हिड्नेलाई धेरै पछि देखे आज
त्यसैले त सम्झनामा एउटा गीत लेखे आज ।।
तिमीलाई देखे पछि उस्कै याद आयो मलाई
वेदनाले झर्ने आँशु गहभित्रै रोके आज ।।
उनी संग बोल्न नपाई विछोड मेरो भ’को थियो
उनी सम्झि तिम्रैसाथ सबै पीडा पोखे आज ।।
तिम्री साथी देखेपछि तिम्लाई भेटे जस्तै लाग्यो
अस्ताएको माया फेरि उदाएर बोके आज ।।
सम्झिएरै तिम्रो खेल्ने त्यही सुन्दर आँगनीलाई
तिम्रै नाममा एउटा सुन्दर फुल मैले रोपे आज ।।
सिर्जनालाई खोजी खोजी चोर्न थाले अचेल भरी
लुटाहारले लुट्दा जस्तै सोर्न थाले अचेल भरी
प्रस्तोता लाई हटाएर लाज र शरम पचाउँदै
आफ्नै नाम र ठेगाना पो कोर्न थाले अचेल भरी
दुनियाँका आँखा भित्र छारो हाल्दै पित्तलमा
सुनको जलप लगाएर मोर्न थाले अचेल भरी
नभन्दानि अचाक्लीभो भन्दा रिसले भुत्भुताउँदै
मित्रतालाई झर्ल्यामझुर्लुम फोर्न थाले अचेल भरी
नैतिकता र इमान्दारी रछान माथि मिर्काएर
सच्चा होइन झुट्टा नाता जोर्न थाले अचेल भरी
नहिंड है मस्किएर कहिले पनि तिमी हजुर
सम्हालेर मनलाई मुटुभरी फूल हजुर..
बरालिनु हैन राम्रो बन तिमी मेरै हजुर
अंगअंग नशा नशा माया छरी डुल हजुर
फकाउनु फसाउनु आफ्नीलाई मात्रै हजुर
दुनियाको के कुरा माया संगै खुल हजुर
बाचा कसम विश्वासमा बचाउदै प्यार हजुर
आफ्नो भन्नु आफ्नै हुन्छ अरुलाई भूल हजुर
पुराना ती रङ्गमाच उठाउँदै म आएँ
नयाँ नौलो रोदीघर बसाउँदै म आएँ ।
यौवनको भेलबाढी गयो बेसै भयो
पीरतीको पहरामा रसाउँदै म आएँ ।
वैली जाने रहरहरु उखेलेर फाल्दै
वैशाखको पालुवामा पलाउँदै म आएँ ।
शून्यताको लेक बेसी धाउनु धाएपछि
मनैभरि जाई-जुही फुलाउँदै म आएँ ।
तिमीसँग यात्रा गर्ने नौलो धोको बोकी
जिन्दगीको नयाँ गाडी गुडाउँदै म आएँ ।