Category: Nepali Literature

500

i have a 500 friend request waiting list on my FB
says she
what?
that’s like more than the Indian Railways waiting list
on any given day
say i

i know, crazy right?
and some are 50 year old uncles
pervs
says she

what?
that sounds like
who i’m gonna be when i turn 50
say i

hahahaha
says she

hahahaha
say i

so what are you upto
says she

o you know
hunting
say i

perv!!!
says she
turning her back to me

no no
hunting
hunting for Nepali words
say i

transit

on god’s fort
i told the truth
She was on your side
i’d soon find out
but i came in peace
i came in trust
i came with a heart
free of blood, love, and lust

with clasped hands
and eyes searching for a place to rest
and a hope that things in fact
do reallly happen for the best
you smile knowingly
a i-knew-it
as i drown in another pool of deadbeat

you did see it coming
for you knew
the shallowness inside of me
would lead us to face the fork
in this melodrama that we’re living in

47 days, it is then
to find out if this is the destination
or just another transit to get to one

Laxmi

don’t come to me laxmi
my mind is cluttered
i see things in the manner that you don’t

don’t listen to me laxmi
skin is all i need
to go beyond requires sobriety of the abnormal degree

love me not, laxmi
it’s the fire that is burning
putting it off requires love that needs to be bought

don’t be afraid laxmi
canada will not make a fool out of you
backups are for hypocrites

laxmi
wake me up in the streets tomorrow
i’ll be meditating with the dogs
striving for innocence

skirts skirts skirts
they look like candy
laxmi
ask me a question

Versions

oatmeals and monitors
constraints in excess
lights on nights
days are obsolete
grass on air
mow it high
wind is your fuel
green party gets euphoric

nokia shines
when there’s no call
picture a gangbang
one tv – five remote controls
eggs are ready
they didn’t half-boil .. again

sit on three chairs
half a table
food – check
time – check
guitar – check
computer – check
headphones – check
sanity – n/a
park the ‘phones
turn it up
hit F5

goodbye

the murukkus come between us
no smile’s as priceless as yours
the idlis come between us
no walk’s as graceful as yours

it’s not just work for me baby
but also no play at the end of the day
and that’s been getting the better of me lately
hence
had it not been for your sight
10 pm would’ve always been the end of my night

time waits for no one
or so they say
i don’t really know about that
because
even though i can’t pull a rabbit out of my hat
i know for a fact
that
come whatever may
they can never ever say
that 10 pm for the bohta
isn’t here to stay

i’ve never been on a bullet train
but
i must confess
that
my life would definitely not have been in vain
were i only to see you
everyday
wrap my order of dosa, ever so carefully
with a smile
that will be forever missed
in Kathmandu’s narrowest, but nicest, little galli

so
until (if ever) we meet again
here’s a goodbye from
well, just another ..
i could tell by the eyes that follow you
so as to cause you to bother
i will take the food, however
and not cause too much chatter
in a language that’s kinda diffcult for me
to decipher

thanks
for i really have to eat tonight (s t a r v i n g)
just so that i can query my mind efficiently tomorrow
for the invaluable content it has captured today
in the beauty of your smile
..
among maybe other details.

On ‘Telling A Tale’

“It’s not that far beta .. okay, I’ll carry you. Hear that horn? It’s calling us so we have to hurry beta else mommy will be late ..”

Something along these lines from my mother is one of my earliest memories; another being, blowing fog from my mouth in Gangtok with my cousins.

To teach Nepali at a high school, 6 days a week, early in the morning, my mother used to travel to the little Terai town of Duhabi from a different city – Biratnagar. This was 80s in Nepal .. there were no scooties and no micros. She had to take the bus going to Dhankuta (the bus was an ‘Express’ – it made the fewest and the quickest stops) from Biratnagar.

My mother’s commute was thus: 15 minutes walk to the Biratnagar bus-stop from our dera, 30 minutes ride to Duhabi, another 10 minutes walk to the school and back. 110 minutes (or thereabouts) of commute back-and-forth. I’ve retraced those steps and the ride itself a couple of times after I ‘grew up’.

When my mother carried me, her bosom was the most comfortable resting area ever. When she held my hand when we walked, her hands provided me with security that BRB would envy. When she smiled to me, I lit up. When she fed me, I ate with glee. When she sometimes had to fight with the Conductors over inconsistent fares, I voiced my displeasure to the Conductors via heart-piercing shrills of a stereotypical Nepali cry-baby.

Now, mother is ailing. Infections wreak havoc in her urinary tract. She’s been on medication for the better part of last half-year. But you know what? Her work still reins over everything. She wants to be there everyday despite the disease which thank god is not life threatening but requires constant monitoring.

She’s worked all her life, my mother. Her continuous strive for independence (financial, social, etc.) has led to her current state of mind. That draw for independence had stemmed from her background and the setbacks she had suffered due to already-in-place Nepali social conventions having paved the path she was expected to trek on for the remainder of her life – whether she had liked it or not. Yes to marriage, no to education.

Despite the slight punctuation, my mother wouldn’t back down. My father’s liberal upbringing and thought – also Ilamey, provided her with more than enough latitude to where she could pursue her aspirations of becoming an independent Nepali woman. She did. Still is.

This flashback about my mother was what I was reminded of when I read through a few wonderful write-ups by Nepali women in the book “Telling A Tale”. Archana Thapa, whom I’ve heard speak a couple of times in a few events, has done an excellent service to the world of Nepali literature by bringing out voices of Nepali women spanning a significant array of backgrounds.

Reading through this book, I learnt quite a lot about women, and well, also about myself – in one particular instance. I’ve been blessed with knowing some strong Nepali women in my life. Besides my mother and my sister, I’ve had the fortune of having spent some quality time with the strongest of women in my friendships and past relationships.

Those relationships, I still recount almost everyday to myself and despite not having seen at least one of them through to the end, they are moments lapsed in time I’m still inspired by. Those women were strong, I was not. They were sincere, I was shallow. They had balls of steel, I had balls made of cotton (now there’s a poem!).

I had walked to Thamel from Baluwatar yesterday for two reasons:

1. to locate one particular homeless kid to ask him if he’d been to any restaurants lately (long story – will state in another post – here’s something related)

2 – to buy that latest from Manjushree Thapa

1 didn’t happen and before I got to 2 in Pilgrims’, I ran across this gem of a book: ‘Telling A Tale’. After I quickly read one write-up, I wondered how in the world could I have missed this book up until now. I eventually bought both.

Taking in the warm sun Kathmandu received this afternoon and nibbling on suntalas and also throwing in some of the best naps I’ve taken in the last year somewhere in between, I read through most of the down-to-earth and straight-out-of-heart narratives produced by some brilliant Nepali writers of the fairer sex.

And here are the top 10 reasons why you also need to buy this book:

10. If you want to get ahead in Nepal, you need to understand how women think. Why? By the next 15-20 years, watch them turn the tables on us. So this book’s a great head-start. [It's China and women that will rule the upcoming generations.]

9. Whether or not you are a woman, there’s a good chance you may be able to learn something about yourself after reading this book – more so, if you are a Nepali.

8. Do your part to generate some revenue for our Nepali publishers also, will you?

7. This book could be a great gift for Valentine’s Day for your significant other who still thinks (or doesn’t) that getting a job and getting married rightaway will solve all problems of this world. Can we change some ways of this world we live in please? Again, while reading this book, I realized on one instance how it starts with me also.

6. There’s a good chance you will relate to a few voices and specifically what they have to say in this book. My fellow Nepali men, there’s how you get to listen to the other side also.

5. That lady you are trying so hard to impress? Tell her what book you’ve been reading these days after you buy this book. There’s a chance your stock could carry some extra weight.

4. In this book, there are clear, specific instructions on what to call and what not to call women of various shapes and sizes. Take that to heed and see yourself go far.

3. If you missed that ‘piece’ in Himal Southasian a few months ago, Manjushree Thapa candidly talks about her first kiss in this book also.

2. Read this book and see what ideas you get to help men also in this country. If I were a top-notch Nepali man ‘literatus’, I would already start compiling similar write-ups from Nepali men. Not as a token to counter this book, but to add to this brilliant idea of Archana Thapa’s to provide a dose of the other gender also. I have a feeling Nepali women wouldn’t mind that one bit.

1. This book will provide you with that extra boost needed to say sorry – did to me.

one

don’t blame me for dreaming
seeing as i see
things for what they cannot be
don’t shoot me for saying
writing as i read
words for what they cannot mean
don’t bar me for trying
this time as i feel
the ticks by which it turns the wheel
the love for which it gets to kneel
the life for which it makes the kill
-
so don’t hate me for feeling
these beats as i play
songs for what they cannot sway
the shades
the shades of color.