Saturday, October 22, 2016

लुकामारी

Shall thou be my doctor,
I'll be a patient 24X7 

अरे
म त आधामात्रै पो हुँ
अन्तै कतै छोडीआएको छु आफ्नो आधा स्वरुप

आधा हुनु भनेको अपुरो हुनु होइन
आधा हुँदैमा एक्लो, अधुरो भन्नु पनि हुँदैन
हँसियाजस्तै घुमेको आधा चन्द्रमा
पुरै गोलोभन्दा पनि राम्रो देखिन्छ
जसरी राम्रो देखिन्छ
अलिकति ओठ खुल्दा देखिने
उनको आधा मुस्कान

उनी पनि त आधा छिन्
म पनि त आधा छु
तर आधा-आधा नै भएर सही
फरक फरक गोलार्धमा रहेरै सही
हामीबीच यौटा पुल छ समानताको
उनी मलाई पूरा गर्छिन, म उनलाई पूरा गर्छु

उनी डाक्टरी पढ्दैछिन्,
म रोग जम्मा गरिरहेछु 

Monday, October 3, 2016

दस्सैं


हजुर,
म यो दशको आन्तरिक पर्यटक

हरेक साल दशैं लागेपछि
राजधानी छोड्छु,
कोचिएर थोत्रो मिनीबसभित्र
उक्लन्छु पहाड र पुग्छु गाउँ -
उही धुलाम्मे बाटाहरू
जहाँ दौडदादौडदै
मेरै पछि छुटेको थियो मेरो बाल्यकाल
त्यही भूगोल जहाँ
बयर र ऐंसेलुका घारीभारी अनगिन्ती दौंतरीहरू छोडेर
गुराँसका डालीहरूमा  एक अन्जुली मुस्कान छोडेर
बर्षौंपहिले हिंडेको थिएँ शहर
सपना सिंगार्न

हजुर,
म यो दशको आन्तरिक पर्यटक
हरेक बर्ष दशैँ लागेपछि उसैगरी सुरु हुन्छ
र दशैं सकिएपछि उसैगरी सकिन्छ
मेरो वार्षिक भ्रमण शृंखला                                        
                                       (September 27)

Sunday, July 31, 2016

An Ode to my Love

Would I resurface,
and see the sun again?
My muse smiles her crooked smile!

Sometimes, I wonder
You and I
If we meet someday
How will we calm
our shy heartbeats?
I think we'll just pass poems
written on napkins to each other..
Steal a few shy glances,
Sip the now-turned-cold coffee,
And walk away
Reminiscing the paths we didn’t take
While we could...

Back home -
You’ll write a poem
On some random page of diary
That I gifted you
on your twentieth birthday
Packed without the red rose and a love letter
that I so, so much wanted to keep
(Though, never did so, someway)
About how we ended up being mere footnotes
While we could have made a whole history
And slowly, silently close the diary-
your own heart crushed between pages
Where you just left the pen as bookmark!

And back home-
With a broad smile on my face
I'll write a story of how 
I met an immaculate girl on one of my high school grades
And how our eyes talked for the first time,
The first time I saw your teeth
behind bars of those imperfectly-curled lips
The sharing of glitzy smile
Those extra-chocolates you gave me on your birthday,
so hurried that someone might see and tease
Times you signaled answers on my viva tests
And got yourself rebuked
Of how we were like the adjacent stars-
Everyone saw us together,
But only did we know the millions of light year separating us away
of how LIFE happened in between, and 
LOVE slipped through our unconfessed words.
I'll write the masterpiece of all my stories
The love story of two fireflies 
who never met at the crisscross to walk together

That day,
My muse shall smile your crooked smile!

Friday, June 10, 2016

Consolation

I feel you bruh, I feel you :)
Sometimes,
Nation fails, economies fall
Prodigious things collapse in no time
So [darling],
It’s okay to fail
It’s okay not to be okay, sometimes

When you’re hitting lowest of your days,
And downpour of misfortune soaks the abbeys;
Sometimes -
When your ears are too small for your heart
To understand the words inside
Come to me,
For I won’t ask questions;
Instead I’ll sit besides, listen and offer you
My shoulders to rest your chin,
My chest to cry in
Cause sometimes,
It’s okay to breakdown, loose and cry
For moon won’t be lovely with no taint of scars
For were there no  night, you won’t see the stars

Sometimes,
You should lose things to gain better
Ignite your fortitude and
Keep going, going, going...
Believe me, sometimes -
Lost is a beautiful place to find yourself!

 
 May 4, 2016

Sunday, May 22, 2016

SHE

She- She was art
The masterpiece, indeed! 


She was a canvas colored so bright
Warmth of the sun
Very definition of light
But insecure, she took a brush
And painted herself darker than the black,
Hoping to change: the way she was
Only then did she realize
She was already a masterpiece
Right from the birth
Created, unlike others, to be unique
And also she knew-
The most beautiful is often called bizarre!
She wasn’t just a girl

She was the storm with skin!

May 3, 2016

***
Related :  http://goo.gl/XCfxwr

Thursday, May 12, 2016

सपना

Few weeks ago, beautiful pictures of Rara flooded my timeline in Twitter and I could do nothing than write these broken lines to pacify the urge of reaching there. 


Rara at the dusk!
Photo by @Drishhya

सपना नै सही,
त्यो राराको पानीमा खुट्टा चोबल्दै
सुन्दै झ्याउँकिरीहरूको नबुझिने संगीत
पानीमुनीको आकाशमा अनगिन्ती पटक
बनाउँदै-फुकाउँदै,
फुकाउँदै-बनाउँदै
हाम्रा औँलाहरूको गाँठो
पोतिदिनेछु तिम्रा गालाहरूमा
डुब्नै डुब्नै लागेको घामको रातो लाली
समय यति सुन्दर हुनेछ कि
पल्लो किनारको घाम पनि
लजाएर- लुक्नेछ पानीमुनी

निम्तो स्वीकारेर आउनु
र आउँदा- आँखाभरी
उही ट्रेडमार्क मुस्कान बोकेर आउनु
तिम्रो स्वागतमा
स्निग्ध राराको जलघडा बोकेर
पर्खीबसेको मै हुनेछु

Thursday, May 5, 2016

Short Poems(1)

जिन्दगी

कविहरूले लेखे
जिन्दगी यस्तो हुनुपर्थ्यो
यो आउनुपर्थ्यो
त्यो हट्नुपर्थ्यो
मैले भनेँ -
तिमी आउनु ,
छेउमा बस्नु र हाँसिदिनु
जीवन यस्सै सुन्दर हुनेछ
....................................................................

मोफसलको चिठी

म बोल्दा बिथोलिन्छ तिम्रो निद्रा
मेरो कलमले खुब घोच्न थालेको छ तिमीलाई,
तिम्रो कुर्चीमुनी
जरूर गएको छ भुइँचालो
यति बुझिराख्नु
रगतको होली खेलिराखेर मात्रै
धेरै टिक्न सक्दैन तिम्रो सत्ता

ओ राजधानी, भन-
हाम्रा कविता बिरूद्ध
कहिलेसम्म पड्काउँछौ बन्दुक?
कति दिन मार्छौ हामीलाई?
कलमको आँशुले भिजेपछि एकदिन
चिसो हुनेछ बारूद
र फर्किनेछ तिम्रै छातीतिर
....................................................................

जुनकिरीको संगीत

म कहानीहरूको कुरा गर्छु
तपाईँ कहालीहरूको कुरा गर्नुहुन्छ
म प्रेम गर्नुस् भनिरहन्छु
तपाईँ पैसाले पुग्दैन भन्नुहुन्छ
म जे जे गर्छु
तपाईँ ठीक उल्टो उल्टो गर्नुहुन्छ
र भन्नुहुन्छ -
“क्यै मज्जा छैन यार जिन्दगीमा”
महाशय, ओ महाशय
आउनुस्
माथी देउरालीसम्म उक्लौँ
र जुनकिरीहरूसँग सोधौँ
कति उज्यालो चाहिन्छ
जिन्दगी बिताउन?
....................................................................

Earthquake

Come near,
Hold hands
And stare into my eyes
I can rebuild you
Into monuments
Bit by bit,
Piece by piece,
Block by block
O life..
O earthquake!
....................................................................

Heartbreak

I thought I knew
What real pain felt like
But I didn’t,
Until that day
When I saw the way
You looked at her!
....................................................................

Nostalgia

Once were there
craved slow touch,
shy denial,
surrendered blushes;
Then LIFE happened
leaving behind
these memories
that translates to hiccups~
....................................................................

Monday, May 2, 2016

Things Fall Apart- Review


Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world!
            - W.B Yeats, The Second Coming

Things Fall Apart (1956) is a past-colonial novel written by Nigerian author Chinua Achebe. There must be very few literary enthusiasts who have not heard of it as this is archetypal 'modern African novel in English to have received global critical acclaim'. This is a stark and simple story of Okonkwo, one of the greatest warriors, leader and local wrestling champion in Nigerian village of Umofia. The title comes from W.B Yeats' famous poem The Second Coming.

The work is split into three parts, the first describing his family history, customs and society while the second and third sections describe aftermaths of influence of British colonialism and Christian missionaries on indigenous African society. 

The protagonist, Okwonko gains fame as local wrestling champion at tender age. He is strong, arduous and wants to dispel his father's image of being effeminate (who was coward and died with unpaid debts, outcast from clan). He works hard on his own and becomes brusque with three wives, children, and large barns and gains prestige among villagers.

On one such occasions he's selected to be guardian to Ikemefuna, a boy brought as peace settlement from other village to whom he grows fond of later. But later he ends up striking a killing blow to prove his audacity although the child seeks protection with his 'father'. The scene of Okonkwo's accidental shooting of young clansmen and his subsequent banishment is pivotal in the story. 

Upon his arrival after seven years, he finds his village blemished by the missionaries and he makes a coalition with some friends to stand against the atrocities of the Christians. Following series of tumult, he kills one of the missionaries when they try to halt villagers meeting. After murder, foreseeing the upcoming misery and offended with kinsmen, he commits suicide- the greatest sin against the gods of his people. He ends up being untouchable and outcast from his clan- something he strived lifelong not to resemble with his father. 

The plot not only reveals Okowonko's struggle and fall but also complex social fabric of people residing. The oral storytelling and rituals for planting, harvesting, and human passage sustain an orderly society. The proverbs are weaved in dialogue to clarify a point, teach lesson and mostly to provide humor. Although most of the untranslated native words are understood in context, some still create a distance between non-Ibo reader and the world depicted in the novel.

In a nutshell, this very interesting and succinct book is a story of protest and search of righteousness in part of African society. The complexity in situation and Achebe's masterful craft makes Things Fall Apart a classic novel. My recommended read for everyone once.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

A Fable

Many stories from the Holy Bible are read and recollected all over. There's one very beautiful parable in Bible (John 2:1-11) that goes like-
"When Jesus reached to the sea shore, sea turned into red wine."

Many writers and critics round the globe have written their views relating this line. There are numerous books written to explain this sweet, simple parable. Probably, there is no any other parable, in the Holy Bible itself, as imagery and concise yet complete and aesthetically beautiful as this one. As a matter of fact, in Vatican City- the landmark epitome to Christianity, one whole section of library has been dedicated to store books written round the globe that describe this parable; to elaborate and accredit variety of meanings to this line.

Once long ago, a teacher in Britain shared this very parable to her pupils of early primary class, probably grade two or three, and asked them to write something- anything that strikes their mind after listening this line. Amongst the class, a baby boy sat down, scribbled something very quickly onto papers and handed it to his teacher, within minutes.

Before disclosing what was written, let me share you a piece of information. If you don't know, in English language/literature, 'sea' is a feminine gender whereas 'ocean' is masculine. Most languages- both written and spoken possess such variation for enrichment of expressions.

Back to the point.
The boy handed back his paper to the teacher and she found that her student had written a single-line response to the single-line parable. He'd written-
"The sea saw her master and blushed."

Till today, the world believes, no other line has been written- so simple yet so powerful that describes the parable aforementioned.

And the 12 year old boy who wrote it first hand, the English literary world commemorates now as one of the greatest poet Lord Byron for masterpieces like "Promethus" and "She Walks in Beauty". He passed away at a tender age of 36 on 19th April, 1824, some two hundred years before today. 

***
P.S: Its April 23rd today, #WorldBookDay- Keep reading, writing and sharing!

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

The Hate Poem

While I was using Twitter today, (which I mostly do these days) I came to read a prompt that asked "to write a hate poem for someone you love." And I ended up writing one that's below.


I Hate You!

Utter silence
that raging
burning
heart stiffening
ear deafening
painful silence
is all I hear!

When I’m on my cloud-nine
wishing to share the day’s tidbits
and busy sometimes
(But mostly neglected)
when all my messages
Facebook, Viber, Whatsapp
attain martyrdom
Then, I can’t keep myself from hating you!

When ears be hungry to hear your voice
Calls unattended, I’ve no choice
Your busy schedule,
My lonely life
Occupied with own world
Least known ‘bout mine
Rendered clouds and this miscommunication!
Makes me feel this world’s a desert
And your love is the oasis
I’ve been searching
To own all way

I hate you for all the care you didn’t give
For forgetting my birthday
and promises you didn’t keep
For being so distant
For being so silent
Yet, I can’t complain,
I don’t disturb
As I always wish
This world to revolve you around 
And not end with me- bound

But still a chill runs through my spine
Thinking-
I may get used to your silence
I might forget those bright eyes & your smile
What if I end up forgetting how your voice sounds!
or, what if my throat gets choked with the words
when I try to let them out!

I hate you with all my strengths [dearest]

But then,
I hate myself more
I hate that I love you so much from my heart’s core
I hate that we’re so aloof, and I can’t confess my love to you!


April 6, 2016

Saturday, April 2, 2016

The God of Small Things

Spoiler Alert first, I'm not a avid reader (well, not a careful one for sure) and I've never written a book review before (school assignments don't count!) and so this ain't one.


The God of Small Things
As the title itself suggests, this book demonstrates how small things can have multiple major consequences in life. This is a phenomenal, heart-rending yet lyrical and mysterious tale of misunderstanding and pain echoing through the years written by Arundhati Roy. This is a story of how things fall apart and prosperous family ruin; but many things in between.

The story begins with the funeral of young Sophie Mol, the cousin of the novel's protagonists, Rahel and her fraternal twin brother, Estha. It is set in Ayemenem, Kerala in between the intervals of 1969 (when the twins were seven years old) and 23 years after when they returned family home. In the suspenseful narrative, Roy reveals the family tensions that led to the twins' behavior on the fateful night that Sophie drowned and alongside, sheds light on the deep rooted prejudices around.

The narrative switches periods time and again while the story unfolds and things start being clearer. Against the backdrop of family tragedy there stand stories of local politics, plight of accused Naxalites, social taboos and the tide of history which cumulatively results and a family is irreparably shattered. Unexpected things happen when Ammu falls in love with Velutha, the untouchable factory worker or when Estha is molested outside the theatre or later when theses twins sleep together after their union.

There are violent relationships, broken relationships and unrequited love, but it is, of course, the children who suffer most. The children's candid observations clouded by the adults' complex emotional lives- plangent with sad wisdom is well captured. The hypocrisy about the power relations, different level of sexual freedom permitted for men and women and the harshness of the rural family code for women are displayed. (even Oedipus Complex)

Caste, communism, Conrad's "Heart of Darkness", "The Sound of Music", whom to love (and how), and insects (especially moths) are common threads. The plot moves around space and time with masterful ease and one can't help but experience a vague sense of foreboding, a prickly fear in the back of your neck.

I liked the non-linear storytelling and I find that that's true to life in many ways. Remembrances often aren't linear, and with each chapter more of the mystery is revealed and I find that to be an interesting metaphor in our own lives. The short sentences made me thinking at all directions despite their lengths.

In my opinion, the story is not just about “some godforsaken tribe” but about love and cruelty, time and disintegration. It is frightening, beautiful, unrelenting. With narrative of many layers and a dazzling style of prose it demonstrates about how the Really Big Things often seep into the Small Things, like tea from a teabag. 

Monday, March 21, 2016

Let's call it a Love Poem~

#WorldPoetryDay 2016

When the new season arrives
The lovely spring.
And cherry blossoms its best
We'll take a seat together
Nearby a sea shore
And share
A blank stare into the abyss
I'll give you a rhyme
I'll tell you a story
From the sidelines of land
We'll watch the sea water
Kissing its shore
Infinite times,
Since eternity

Although you may say
All my puns are terrible
And
I can't do poems
In the space under trees
Honey,
More than planks and nails
Magic can once show up

One plus one plus one
Together
We'll make more than the sum

I've seen the atrocity of sunsets
I've seen the desolation of flowers fade
I know
Nothing lasts forever
Except the poetry within oneself
But then
You're the best poetry
That lives within my spirit

With your every dip,
My ocean trembles
And the ripple stays
Forever!

In burning heart
The unequivocal fire
Soars like a spire
Pandora,
I adore you
I implore you
Let's make life a love poem!