Saturday, November 29, 2014

Peril of thoughts

and then

and then

amidst the sorrows
in the pain

in the perils
with perks

jot words
thrash them
on the wall

the prescient
the narrator

Metta !!
Image courtesy: Deviant Art

Friday, November 28, 2014

हस्ना ना रोना

आज रोत़े रोते आख पथरा सी गई शायद
रोना जो भूल गए थे हम
हस्ने कि बारी जब आए
बुला लेना हमको भी प्यारे
वारे-न्यारे हो जाएंगे हम

अस्तु !

सोच- दोस्रो कडी !

कति निरिह छ प्राणि आफ्नो सोचको आवेग थाम्न नसकि आफ्नैहरुको बीच पराया जस्तो हुन पुग्दछ।  कसरि सम्झाउनु त्यो सोचलाई जहिले टाठो भएर बसेस्, जहिले विचारवान भएस् । कसरि भन्नु ति उडी हिड्ने सोचहरुलाई - तैले कहिल्यै कुनै फरक तरिकाले सोच्न पाउदैनस् , केहि गर्न त झनै पाउदैनस् । सदैव एकै तरिकाले  बसेस् । दुखे पछि ऐया नि नभनेस् । खुशी भएपछि जे गर्न मन लाग्छ गरेस्। बस् आफ्नो काबुमा बसेस्। यसैलाई आफ्नो जीवन मन्त्र बनाइ हिडेस्।  

अस्तु !
पहिलो: सोच- एक कडी

She-my friend (the long distance talks) !

"Oie, k chha khabar," Suman messaged her from the other end. Though miles away they were always together and a word from Suman was her solace.

"Good," was her brief reply.

"How's life going on? Been long we have chatted, I was busy I must admit. So tell me how are things running at your end,"Suman asked it all in a sentence.   

" :-)," was her reply.

":-)," Suman smiled back. "Come, lets Skype," she added.

After a brief silence she started,"I was just searching for words Suman, where do I start from. It sometime just feels sadder knowing the fact that some things are not for you and may be then again you are longing for it. Though you know it was never for you but still the craving was there. The craving was even not for anything more, just that things do not dissemble or may be I do not know what." Preeya said in a flawed tone.

Preeya seemed depressed. Suman exactly knew the feelings that was flowing inside her. That was she, who could exactly depict the thought flows of Preeya, exactly knew what she was going through, exactly could relate things. She could sonder and ponder at the same time.

"Keep saying," was her say.

Preeya quietened for sometime, neither did she speak nor messaged. After sometime the message box blinked up. "Suman, may be I can't depict my says properly. May be I am a bad communicator, people do not understand me or moreover I do not let people understand me and then the dispute rises up."

Suman was smiling at the other end and typed,"and then??"

"And then I ruin up every thing--every piece of thing exactly," she spoke. "I act damn weird at times. May be I am very possessive at times and that exactly shows in my actions. I do not actually mean it but that happens time and then and result is my complains of self at your place. I don't want things as such Suman. I am literally tired," Preeya said sadly. "Everyday I try doing things well from my end and then I end up ruining things. I am off taking things as such. I want peace."

Suman knew what she was feeling and going through. She did not want to speak anything more today cause she knew even words were not going to heal her for the day. The pain was more severe which Preeya was going for the day. She just sent her a photo showing two trees and typed on the screen,"be we be farther as shown in the pic yet we will always be as near as they could be captured in a picture. Don't you worry Preeya, I am always there for you."

Far-yet near !
Tears flew down Preeya's eyes and they were tears of joy after the cloud of painful thoughts flew out of her. She gave a faint smile and send back a smiley," :-) I love you Suman," was what she could reiterate.

Metta !
Image: Kanchan

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Of Books and Reads !

There are phases in life when you happen to like some books a lot and then years later when you look back and turn over the same pages you don't find them as interesting as it used to be. As worthy as it was back then, but still, you have some feelings for the book-for the read you made. In this write I felt like talking about my love for books; when and how it started and where is it going these days.

My book love started back in the school days where reading stories from text books used to be fun. After finishing my own class reads, I used to finish up all the stories from my elder sister's English and Nepali text books. In addition to these there was a English supplemetary book for our school reads which used to be a short story book. All these instances geared up my love for the books.

Daniel Defoe was the first writer I read back in class 1 with "Robinson Crusoe" crowned up as the first novel. I have faint memories of Johann David Wyss with "The Swiss Family Robinson" in Class 2. I read more of Mark Twain in the latter classes with "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn". And then it was Sir William Shakespeare with "The tales from Shakespeare" which was a compilation of the tales by Shakespeare compiled by Charles Lamb and Mary Lamb. I read the "Geeta" and "Mahabharat" back then in my high school days.

At the same time back at home we used to read "comics" which kept on increasing the fascination for another genre of book. Chacha Chaudhary, Bhokal, Super Commando Dhruva, Naagraj, Pinky, Channi Chachi, Raman, Bankelal, Doga, Fantom, Mandrake used to add up the attraction always. Along with them there were monthly story books Nandan, Nanhe Samrat, Champak and others which were the added attractions. There always used to be chunk of books in both Nepali and Hindi back at home which always fascinated me. 

While I started reading the second genre of novels it started with Arundhati Roy's "The god of small things", Ayn Rand's "The fountainhead", Leo Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina". I read couple of Sidney Sheldon as well. Books kept on adding up and so on added were the reads.

In the later days, I liked Paulo Coelho after reading "The Alchemist". The Alchemist is one of its kind. It has impressed me in many ways. I was so impressed by the author the then that I immediately bought and read "By the river Piedra I sat and wept"-I liked the read. But then there was "Brida" and "Eleven minutes" which I started and never finished. Albeit there are many other reads which I have never been able to complete after starting but regarding these two reads they didn't fascinate me anytime, so I just stopped reading them. Lately I had a discussion with a friend of mine who was telling Paulo Coelho is such a lousy writer who writes of things and talks of fantasies and a dream world which never exists. I could not convince him with the idea that some books are just like first love, you love them a time and just like them with not much of attraction or things now but still like them.

Similar was the case for Robin Sharma. Sharma is famous for his motivational writes and speeches. The first read I made from him was "Who will cry when you die". I really liked the book then, which was a train souvenir while we were coming back from India to Nepal. Immediately after finishing the first read by Mr. Sharma I bought "The Monk who sold his Ferrari", I liked the read then too. This year I happened to buy one more motivational read by him which I could never turn even a page more. And these days, when I try reading the first two reads I made, I cannot read them anymore. Those books have some good memories with me and now they are like nonexistent being for me.

I like Murakami, Khaled Hosseini, Khalil Gibran and Kafka too. After reading "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini I tormented for a long time, it was that touching. I have grown up reading my grandpa Aatma Ram Ojha. I like books by Saru Bhakta, Jagadish Ghimire, B.P.Koirala, Parijaat. I keep on reading one or the other writer time and then. A single read by some while a chunk by others. I have been reading more of Richard Bach and John Green lately. I am impressed by both of these writers. Reads keep on adding on the list and my hunger for reading them keeps on increasing too.

As Ernest Hemingway says,“There is no friend as loyal as a book.”  I can't help adding my friends :-)

Happy reading folks!

Metta !!
Picture courtesy: Deviant Art

Thursday, November 20, 2014

When "existences" are "mistakes" !

Early morning I happened to check all the social media chaos. Twitter and Instagram are my favorite for the cause. Starting the day with some nice pictures at Instagram makes you feel awesome. Among many in the pictures' world there's a page @humansofny which takes you to the real world scenario. Some pics make you smile, some makes you sad, some ecstatic while some encouraging. Each brings different emotions as each talks of a real life story. And today when I was looking at the following picture, it left me back with so many unanswered questions. Some questions are so obscure that we are left back wondering; haunting for the answers.

This is her story where she speaks:

She says “I met my dad for the first time when I was fifteen. I visited him in Trinidad for two months during the summer. He met me at the airport and acted like he missed me more than anything else in the world. He ran up to me and lifted me in the air and started kissing me and saying how much he missed me. He carried all my luggage, and gave me money, and stopped by the supermarket on the way home to buy me all this food. He was introducing me to his friends like he was so proud of me. He’d say: ‘Look at my beautiful daughter,’ and things like that. It actually got me imagining how nice it would be to have a dad. Then at the end of the day, he dropped me off at my grandmother’s house, and I only saw him two or three times for the rest of the summer. The last night I was with him, he got really drunk, and he told me that I’d been a mistake. He was laughing when he said it, like it was a joke, and I should think it was funny. I pretended like it didn’t bother me, but it did. I thought: ‘So is that why you never wanted to visit or talk to me all these years?

This was such a heart wrenching truth, may be one or the other of us is always a "mistake"? Just the result of some intimate moments of thy parents/a couple. When our existence questions ourselves as a "mistake", how obscure the living becomes. May be I am a "mistake"? May be you are a "mistake"? May be we commit a "mistake"? and all these "mistakes" is our true self?

I am left back with some unanswered questions. Probably this is the sondering moment.

Metta !

And then @beeshalll came up with some amazing answers in the write "Existence are not mistakes, until we believe they are!"

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

She- my friend !

"At first you always look for that cozy place where you can rest your head upon and shed down some of your tears," Preeya sounded depressed with the first line of her words.

"Knowing that the wall won't respond, would never feel a bit I can't help banging my head on it.  And see you can see a big cramp on my head," she signaled jokingly. 

I smiled, yet knew that Preeya was not happy and something was grieving her bad. I thought she would speak some more but she quietened. Silence creeped in between us as the night had enveloped the day. It was all dark.

"What happened Preeya," I tried to break the silence.

"Nothing Suman," she gulped the fresh tears that were lingering in her eyes.

I could not bear the silence and the sadness in her eyes and spoke off deliberately, "listen to this song Preeya." The song started playing in my playlist.

With each line of the song I saw her smiling and she was humming the lines along with the track as it began;
I can almost see it.
That dream I'm dreaming, but
There's a voice inside my head saying
You'll never reach it
Every step I'm takin'
Every move I make
Feels lost with no direction,
My faith is shakin'
But I, I gotta keep tryin'
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down, but
No I'm not breaking
I may not know it, but
These are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep goin',
And I, I gotta be strong
Just keep pushing on, 'cause

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb----2


Keep on movin'
Keep climbin'
Keep the faith baby
It's all about, it's all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, whoa, whoa, oh.


Both of us could not help our smiles. Moon was shining bright in the sky and we were full-on in the musical moods... :-)

Metta !
Video Courtesy: You tube


"And I couldn't have been more sad," whispered the wind.

"What happened," asked the flowing breeze.

"You take away my existence," replied the wind in despair.

The breeze quietened and flew away slowly slowly.

Breeze or the wind--that makes a difference in my existence
Metta !
Image courtesy: bishal
Pre-existent: Existence 

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Thoughts never rest !

My thoughts never rest.
Some day I wish
they let themselves rest

My thoughts never rest.
I let them fly
let them live their life

And My thoughts never rest.

Thoughts !

My thoughts never rest.
They have a mind of their own which wove a hundred and ten more type of thoughts.

Metta !
Image courtesy: Deviant Art