Archive for the ‘Writings’ Category


Posted: June 11, 2017 in Photographs, Random Writings, Writings


I looked out the window. A thick, sullied cotton-candy- like cloud was dragging itself. So heavy! I could sense the sketch of your lips somewhere in those clouds.
I felt a tap on the window pane. One-two-three-4-5-6789…The droplets gazed for a moment and then slipped away. I could vibe the presence of your eyes somewhere in the drop.

Unhurriedly, I moved towards the balcony. So lonely! As soon as I opened the door, my soul filled with the petrichor. I closed my eyes and let my heart flutter in the memory lane. There you were, calm. Your gaze, tender. You, Juvenile- exactly how I saw you for the last time, 20 years ago..


(As seen is Jhamsikhel)



Two children, Rabin and Rabina were severely injured in the bomb blast in the bus they were traveling. They lost the warmth of their mother because of that incident and now, they are scared with the sight of the bus. Their face is disfigured in spite of plastic surgery and the dreams, they are their nightmare.

I still can hear the words of Sita Dhakal’s daughter,-“If people living in the hut are happy, don’t take their happiness away.”

This is just the story of two families taken from Frames of War/Yuddha Chitra, a documentary by Prem BK and Kesang Teseten. Nepal went through 10 years of armed conflict (1996-2006), a conflict for change, a change said to be brought sacrificing thousands of lives and destroying uncountable lives connected to them.

When Nepali media failed to incorporate the story of human sufferings, a project for the book ‘A people War’ started as a Photojournalism for peace. The project later did not limit itself to a book. Rather, 30 days Photo exhibition tour throughout the country in 31 venues were organized that brought together many people who shared the similar agony and unfolded other different stories that led to the publication of 2 more books, books as an insight to human sufferings during the war.

Not always can we see someone feeling the picture literally, can we? The video clips of a visually impaired girl touching the photos and hearing the description, the words of a girl who realized that she is not the only one who lost a father, the stories and the hopeful eyes searching the picture of their loved ones is not something that can be seen every day in some ordinary exhibition.

This documentary clenched my heart and made me ponder. With all the bullets and bombs, tear gas and stones, through jungles and through roads, we dream of turning our world into a better place by imposing new ideologies. During this process, we acknowledge the lost lives as the needed ‘sacrifice’; as the symbol of courage. But we fail to acknowledge the damage caused to the lives connected to that ‘courageous’ soul. We fail to appreciate the cost of life. The price of the blood, the price of the tears, has it been paid? The hollowness created in the life of people who are alive is yet to be filled. CAN they be filled?

I am still wondering.

Written as an assignment for Journalism-

While Reading the Photographs…

Ujaadiyeka kaakh haru

Bhaanchiyeka sahara haru

Pakhaliyeka siundoharu

Rokiyeka saas haru

Khosiyeko baalapan

Aba Kahile farkine chhainan…!


When I walked around the corridor of the RatoBangala School staring at numbers of lives portrayed in the pictures, I could feel myself repeating those words within my head. With each step taken, I got carried away with the real life story of ordinary people just like you and me. But their story was different. The difference was they had seen the war, they had felt the war and they are living with the consequences of the war. Among the numerous life-stories, the photograph of a ten year old Nutan Thapa with teardrops down her cheeks grabbed my attention. What’s her story?


Nutan Thapa is a daughter of the Dailekh journalist Dekendra Raj Thapa who was murdered by Maoists combatants in 2004. Only on 2014, the five of the accused were convicted by the court. “Today, six years later, Nutan is determined to be a journalist and follow the footsteps of her father”, reads the story. But, her mother Laxmi Thapa is not happy with her determination. The thing that struck me the most is the courage shown by a girl who lost her father in such a young age. I was astonished by the transformation of a little girl with tears to a mature girl with a resolution. Where did this strength come from?

Every human goes through the agony of one kind or the other. Some people suffer the most in comparison to the other but no pain is insignificant. Some people hold on to their grief for the rest of their life weakening their soul whereas some people have the ability to convert their pain into their greatest strength and for me, Nutan was that example. She is not running away. Rather, she is preparing herself for her future. And such are the stories that provide Hope.


Walking-talking Rant!

Posted: March 26, 2017 in Random Writings, Writings

I walked and walked to clear my head.

Headphones on, random songs, broken concentration to check if there’s any bike/car ready to hit me and the uncontrollable random thoughts, I walked and walked even though my sole started to say “stop”. I didn’t listen. I walked harder telling it to shut up. Somewhere during my journey, I noticed a brown colored dog had joined me. I don’t know the breed, too naïve for that. It was a normal looking street dog for me. Knowing the breed isn’t important here. Anyways, continuity: it was walking side by side, an inch away. I continued walking. Once, I was one step ahead of it and it rushed to join me again, matching the pace. We kept on walking together. Every time I went ahead, it would try and join me. Eventually, it got tired of the game and then it walked ahead of me, away from me. I watched it with longing. “My companion just walked away from me!” With that thought, I continued my journey, unable to remember where it went. I did not notice when it left.

Empty stomach, dry throat, I was craving for food and water. I had a bottle of water inside my bag but I did not think of taking it out to quench my thirst. I was sweating like never before. The dripping sweats were absorbed by my clothes. I wanted to stop half way for a ride. But I couldn’t gather myself to get into any vehicle. But, I still had half way to go!

I used last of my energy to walk along the ups and downs. Climbing up was tough. I couldn’t breathe because no air was enough. Climbing down was effortless as a cup up an awesome milk tea!

Struggling through the dust, crowd and growing restlessness, I finally reached my home. A sudden feeling of peace caressed me when I reached into my room. But it couldn’t last much.

I immediately took off the sweat drenched clothes trying to feel free. I craved for a hint of elatedness. I let myself rest as I could not gather strength to dress myself. I enjoyed the nakedness as the sweat began to dry and my skin started to feel the chill. I tried to fiddle with the momentary openness.

I kept on trying hard and in the process, I pushed myself too hard.

And my head, it is the foggiest it has ever been.


26th March 2017

Loved ones are never far, they say. Though they are distant, we always feel their presence. World has turned into a global village no doubt. But you can’t hug a person you see in the live-chat, can you? You can’t wipe their tears out from the screen and you can’t pull their cheeks just to make them smile either.

Though you are near with techs, I will tell you I miss you, but the associated feelings with it, I’m gonna hide. I will dream about you often, I will keep on searching you on the roads you’ve always been driving, I will search you in the mischief we do, those you cannot participate for a while and I will miss you terribly. But, I won’t tell you everything because I know how hard your life is there. I know how much you must be missing everything back here. I won’t be burdening you with what I feel deep inside but I will let you know that you are being remembered time and often.

In a year or a two, you’re gonna make us more proud. You are going to build your path yourself. That time, I am going to be among the delighted face among the crowd and that time, we will live all the moments together. I will not tell, but, you will know. You will know that though circumstances has changed, we can still be kids together, fight with each other and do craziest thing together.

When you will be back, I will be sleeping on your chest in the evenings like I always do and will be telling about how lucky I am to have you back. Remember the last time your were here and I fell asleep in your arms? Though you’re elder, you were sleeping like a baby and that was the best thing to remember.

I miss a friend and a mentor from my life. As you have to be busy and won’t be able to reply whenever I message you, I realize I miss you too much and I happen to remember the moment when I actually realized you were leaving for 3 long years and was trying hard to fight back my tears.

Please be Fine.
Lots and lots of Love!

A letter to self#1

Posted: November 11, 2015 in Random Writings, Writings

Dear you,

You are having creativity blockade and I promise, this won’t last for long. Don’t panic, don’t stay up whole night thinking what you’re doing with life. Don’t worry, you love yourself, you do, but you’re having realization blockade. You will get over it. You will write, you will explore and you will make amazing memories and imprint in life. I promise!

Dear You, Just have faith. You are here for a reason. Without you, nothing would be same so stop underestimating yourself. Dear you, you are kind to yourself, yes you are! You’ve just forgotten that. Now, don’t be hard upon yourself. You will be fine.

Please be fine!

With Love,
Your Inner-self


Posted: June 13, 2015 in Writings

“I search him in fire”, she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because he said he knows magic.”
“Yes, he proved he knew magic.”
I got confused.
She continued speaking “He told me once he could disappear in the fire.”
“Oh”, I couldn’t speak anything.
“But he never told me he could come back. That’s why I search him in fire hoping he’d return somehow..”


Posted: May 30, 2015 in Poems, Writings


a soul stabbed itself

in the search of a dark night

to escape the torment

caused by the broken core.


The soul rose immortal,

and drowned in agony

for the eternity.



The butterfly inspiration

Posted: March 23, 2015 in Writings

Nature can be a great inspiration. Let me share something. I saw a white butterfly out of my window yesterday. I was in my messy room sitting in a chair, hitting my keyboard continuously to ‘chatter’ with people in the virtual world and mainly, forgetting that there existed the real world. But I must admit, this virtual world has given me a huge platform to sharpen my ability. Truly, it has my admirers, advisers, readers and everyone else.

It was 5:00 pm and I suddenly noticed that butterfly. She was really trying to enter inside. I wanted to help her. She found the way through the worn out window net. But where there is a will there is a way and she proved it. I smiled. That was the first smile of the day. Actually it was the moment my heart had smiled. Victory!

I raised my palm, she rested gently. I could clearly see the glow of her beauty.” Oh! how beautiful she is, how gentle is her touch. A touch of love, of care.” I smiled more.

You don’t need huge reasons to be happy. Like I say to people, “Smile, be happy and the world is yours”, but never followed. I did not notice the popping messages in my chat box. I could, see only that butterfly, resting on my palm. I suddenly exhaled. She flew.” Oh no!” I regretted. But she flew, around my room, like she was observing each and every corner, telling me, “Manage your belongings”. I got up and cleaned everything.

“Is this my room?” I happened to question myself because I had never seen my room so clean. It was always messy.

“What made me clean my room? Just a butterfly? This is not ordinary,” I thought.

She began to glitter my room. “Am I dreaming?” I pinched myself and concluded that it was reality. Unfortunately I tripped on a book and fell down.

I was asleep. My facebook account had numerous messages. I looked at my room. Ah! Books thrown everywhere, newspapers, DVDs all scattered. I kept everything in their respective places. Really, a photocopy of my dream. Just that butterfly was missing.

“What?” I screamed, with surprise. The same butterfly flew around. “Impossible.” I wasn’t getting what actually was going on here but I was smiling.

She headed towards the garden. I followed. “I had a garden?” I could not remember. But the flowers were dead. I had no time to manage it and I had never sat in the grass. If I had, they wouldn’t be dead. She touched them, flowers bloomed. It was beautiful! I could see more butterflies on the flowers. I hadn’t seen such a scene before. “A guava tree?” I shouted. When did I plant a guava tree in my garden?

Finally, I climbed upstairs, towards the terrace. I was still following her.

“Amazing,” there lay a valley, houses with same the garden as I had. There were children playing, smiling and laughing.

“Kathmandu?” No, it wasn’t. Kathmandu is crowded with houses, which reflects vulgarity of concrete. And this place, totally different. “I’m in heaven! May be I died last night,” I thought.

Suddenly, I could feel a shock. I looked around — I looked at the scene of my unplanned crowded Kathmandu.

“What’s that I saw just now?” I questioned with a great surprise. I was sure I had seen it and that wasn’t dream anymore because I was standing on my terrace looking at my Kathmandu.

“Where’s that butterfly who brought me here?” No answer.

I returned into my room but just couldn’t find that butterfly.

“Was this inception effect?”I thought.

I could feel the nature, how beautiful my valley could be and I had realized that to manage my locality I had to manage my room first.

But was that incident a dream or a reality? I’m still confused.