It's November 18

It's November 18 2013
dear me sitting nearby the giant machine and
wishing to someone
it's very cold dear
in Kathmandu
do you analyze so

there was news of the party
the crowd ,the magic
the beautiful lahanga,
the baja band, are still there

The child nearby asks me in silent
the arrival of election as festival
in Nepal has aroused the festive environment
the bomb blast in various places has caused
the news packages for the channel dear

The beautiful flowers nearby tribhuvan university
the canteen photoes with friends the comments and likes there
the remembrance of childhood days, the university visit
the lotus temple, the ITA awards function on television
still are with me ,the package of snacks which define chapati and curry
are making the environment warm


The " shared photo" of various parties
the slogan of leaders ,the lovely demonstration of the persona
I still get attached to the boredom,laziness, and emptiness of the time
still me enjoying dear the return to  the temporal and spatial  uncertainty
which define myself everywhere ,its you who make ,build and transform me.

Tomorrow 19 November ,2013 ,the news channels are packed dear
the raised voiced for the elections are still highlighted here
the package of issues are analysed and made visual
still they remain in dim light , as the plastic bags in garbage
still are produced,searched ,cared,written,compiled and wished.

cough

The book ,the pen ,the sadness prevalent here impelled me to rethink about the matter

The baby coughing near me shocked to know the definitions as they led themselves inside them

    The dirty clothes,the rainy season and still I coughing dear, the cough has been the dilemma

    this is the cough of insecurity,which engulfed me from many years as I remain as a terminator

  A disaster in front of all,the body of pain,the sad package,like the garbage nearby my home

  she was standing near me , squeezing the lemon nearby it ,the sense of vomit made me crazy

  A handicapped man begged for coin ,but still I as street begger ,never left chance to steal it

  The cough of beggery,the cough of poverty are my definitions,my name is cough ,i am cough 

She spitted at my face ,I licked it ,it was salty dear,her richness made me to do so

The urine the dog had on me on the street where I lied made me never sad

It was my destiny dear,I am not living ,a corpse never feel hurt dear

My poverty is my identity and I remain always uncountable in the location

The flesh of girls are the matter to be eat dear,the pain of poverty of never let them to live

They are made woman before growing in the name of marriage with the old man

Even they are sold in cheaper rate as they are orphan and less costy dear

The coughness,the roughness,the sadness are still included in here 

As a frog the nihilism makes the song of brutalism,the lamentation of marxism still are heard

The election,the street boys,the sold poor girls,the poor child of the slums,the beggers 

The pain has eaten me ,the cough has continous still I want to stand in the pain

The cough has been my fever ,my aim to vomit ,to cough ,to lament the song of poverty 

Engagement

O it's engagement
it's Girinagar
do you dear
we are engaging
in the bond of marriage


Do you know dear
the ring you gave me overwhelmed
the love you want to exchage with the ring
makes me more happy dear

The beautiful saree I wear for you
The hair style made for you
with cruchy crispy hair
with the beautician makes me crazy of you dear

The green lovely saree makes me more lovely
the love I have for you make me move towards you dear
the party,catering,the dance,the friends are here
i am here with my mom ,with the smile


the printed cards are here
the lovely birds are still tere on tree
the play of music,love,dance makes me happy
and still you and me are together here............
in search of eternal love

Speaking

Robert Frost and his "The Road Not Taken"
has been my concentration
from the last week with a cup of tea
As Judith A.Stanford says
the uncertainty to select something
remains with me ,dominates me


The days are passed by
the lovely environment,the flowery scent had occupied me
the comments in facebook are still the matter of focus
with the exchange of deepawali wish to chhath
Are you crazy dude ? colored with crazy colors
like the rainbow in the sky,the discussions are still held here

She fell down with the large belly she had,she is twenty three
with the baby in womb,still her focus in gold seems unfinished
less tensed about the baby she was concerned with fitness
Is she mother dear ,a money minded ,showy whom I donot like
The festive moments made me angry dear as she was careless


The bigness of elephant,the thickness of tree,the loudness of " election"
stands here as the " vomit" which are still hanged with the rudesness  of life
the brutality of the lady,the dark skineed girl ,the selfish man are still laughing
do you the pain of the life makes me weaker day by day till now
still the siren of police control on the road makes me more fearful


The red bird peeping on the picture ,the small elephant on mountain
the boat,the water the globe the book ,the watch flowery vase ,table
window,pen letter with stamp were the cover of the book
The cursive bold italic designs made the book vivid
Am I same dear like the book with colorful face
with multiplicity ,with vividness inside the heart

"......................."

They were four ..........................
decorated in red lipistic
I was running behind Turhikhel
the sight made me confused


Do you know the rumors of being "sale"
were defined as "......................."
were they objects ,crashed,eaten by male
after purchasing the time there

the silence ,the giggling
made me fearful
obstinate, lying on bed
dream or reality

the media never gave them excuse
the poverty ate them
they were made fake
torn by heart

Jagaran

The guys appeared
I was standing behind the fence
There was something pandal
decorated vividly
I was speechless and overwhelmed
The eyes were keen
the body were highly beautiful
It was she Ma Durga
It was she who gave me power
It was her jagaran and I love it



He was named " Naviji"
He had a groups
The guys with love
The bonding seems so charming
They were managed
The funds were made
The invitation were made


They came and took me
The fasting day made me tired
Still the power of music made me
overwhelmed and energetic
It was Ma Durga
It was mataki chowki
The love of crowd
The vividness of Hinduism
exists here


Love it
Worship it

The unity is unbelievable
from crowd to MLA
from slum to rich
is made united
made a mosaic
a collage
The colorful scenario
makes me barbaric
made me Dionysian

Love it
The lucky fellows were there
The unity of spirits
still exist there
with the sound
with the spiritualism
appeared there

D V Lottery and America

He filled the form dear
reached to America
a dreamland named
America



America,America
A land of dreams
Are you there dear
in America

Soniji said ?
Alwi ji Said
Puspa came
in America

The persuit of happiness
The death of salesman
all dealt with hi fi
in America

from Renata to Jain Fain
from Dv lottery to Amrita
everyone speaks out
about America

Still me here
carrying book
running to library
about America


Do you know there

the here is d v lottery  to reach America
to study in America
to reach America


The winner appeared there
with smiling face
as loosers were sad
to reach America 

EPS Korea

He came
She came
They came

The training and skills to go Korea
still have been his desire
I met him today


On the road
with a tail in head
he was looking rough

Sick,depressed
tiredness were his features
and I consoled him

He is in hope
will he be successful
are they truth


EPS korea
EPS Exam
Korean country

Love and Beloved

He was carrying something in his vehicle ,I stood there to observe ,it was a dog who was wounded .Oh I became closer to it .It was our own dog " Tommy ". I called him " Hey ,Tommy " ,it was on the way to Tinsukiya Road and we were coming from Nahaliya from a marriage ceremony .I had gone to marriage ceremony with my mother and other relatives and was returning on that time.

He was my own brother ,in the age of  ten  ,I was suprising to see his worries about the dog's wound ,he was worried about so much about the dog and my curiosity remained unfulfilled.It obvious we love animal but that kind of affection I never saw in life in anyone's face .It's the story of 1997 and now is 2013, I am sitting nearby him ,he is in search of love and hope he gets a true beloved like him.

I want to learn something

I want to learn something
out of the emptiness
the dark night
the torn books
the broken pencils
are still with me
still I want to learn something


The past has been engulfed myself
There is only lo
stness appeared here
The search of self remained a dream
As I lost in crowd of talented ones
As a dull person I never forget  to do so


The book are fake world
I could not move here now
I lost the rhyme here
The broken voice still with me
Still I try to learn something


The fake identities never leave me
Still I try to learn something
The existentialism could not change my thought
I remained a dull in the empty world
Still I try to fetch something
As I remain a failure there in the crowd.

I love you

I love you 
I love you
I love you
The words of love 
The touch you made
The feeling you created in my heart
are enough to say
I love you


The flowers you bring to me
The warm breath you let me feel
are the affections from the heart
makes me crazy of you
makes me think of you
makes me lost in you

There is nothing in myself
to express the moments of love
Neither I have earthly existence
The soul only remains here
As I am dead body here
still I say I love you

The big mouse still exists in my tomb
It scratches down to the earth 
The sounds it makes reminds of you
The thirst of being together
Still I say I love you
Still I feel I love you 

A story

A story is unwritten
which I tried to compile
compose the lines
out of the sayings

A story is written
about her rape
but she remains
victimized and un-addressed

She lost her life
being a prey to him
Her story covered media news
She remains unnoticed now

The voice which were raised for her
was made silent
was made thrashed out
only brutality got victory there

A story could not change the vision
to see her pureness of her heart
she remains timid in front
a story of failure could not made her able to live

Fever

The fever never leaves me alone
A fever of poverty
The fever of sickness
The fever of weakness
The fever of tensions
The fever never leaves me alone


The tensions are being my schedule
Are they life or me adopting the same
Day by day I am being intrusive dear
The fever of self  occupy me dear

Are the flower yearning  for me dear
Are the grassy roots yell at me dear
Do you know the thorns are still here
The fever of proper standing still fears me

Tears

Are they bubbles
are watery elements
which are carrying my hearts


Are the carrier
of the histories
which are seen and unseen
written and unwritten

Do they know the position
being in center and margin
the way of being explore
out of complexity

The exaggeration
inherent in the eyes
can carry same sort
of tears which I do

A street and her saying

This is the street of stories
She told me
She is going to marry now
Near Petrol Pump she decorated


Her each words I do remember
Nostalgic rain makes me compels
to think ,to sort out the sayings
she made,it was her saying

She gave me the eyes to see the street
Whatever is said is true,whatever is unsaid is also true
The story consists of multiple stories
And I was the witness


As an outsider
I got hypnotized
I got puzzled with the street
The then ideas overrule me

Fragments of stories

1



The rainy season of dasai,the coldness inherent in air,the sweetness of flowers,the smiles of relatives,the greeny pomgranate tree,the red tika on forhead and the delicious food made this dasai more favorable,more touchy and more interesting.



2.

She was born there

a handicapped lady

mental case 

but she was made hidden

and got married to a normal guy 

Her mother was a psyche 

it was told to me 

3.

Kasam Hindustan ki,the picture deals with the bravery of Indian group,where one officer and 5 girls were fighting for country.it also depicts values of poor ethnic group in Tamilnadu who live in forest .their marginal position is also made as a voice.

Son of Her Best Friend

He was a smart guy
an educated youth
She was the son of her best friend
A mysterious man like his mother


I used to wonder at home
He behaved very mysterious
which made me so eager
I was wondering about nature

The moments I shared with him
were really surprising
There was charmness in his youth
There is romanticism in his speech

Still mysterious nature and silence of them puzzles me
He is like " her best friend"
His familial members' descriptions make me wonder
A silent but mysterious man

He looked like " her best friend"
In shape,size,nature, look
I always compared them
"Her best friend " were near to him

They loved eachother so much
The love of mother hood were always strong
The benefit of "her best friend"
She cared him by heart


He never liked his friend
whom he called as " Rastrapati"
who was a hindrance to him
while making house as he demanded bribe
with the police he welcomed.

Her best friend

She was best friend to everyone
She spoke least
She was beautiful
She was short highted
with beautiful two daughters


She was a fat woman
who felt uneasy to walk
In a chair she sits
could not move for long hours


She was a wife to alean man
a mother to two sons
but still she was best friend
to " local f m " and  "Ram Ram "


She always describes about her friends
who were nearby her houses
they were her friends whom she knows
collecting histories of their private life


Her stories were the reasons for my perspectives
She was still living with her
She was mysterious but provided me stories
the stories which were surprising and interesting

The short heighten woman named " heroine"
was a lady who earn money illegally
by carrying the things from the owner
everything she could do she did,her best friend claimed

I as  listener admire her as " her best friend"
A silent lady with full of "knowledge"
who describes a lot of stories to related to her 

Water and shouting

She knows how to shout
She knows how to threat
She knows how to act
She knows how to pour water


Her best friend taught her to do so
She was favorite of her best friend
She was protected by her
Her best friend dealt with her


She was dauntless,she was merciless
She never felt any kindness
when you are sick
she can pour the water on you

The water was not water
it was a knife to the heart
which never left my mind

She shouted me badly
still my heart get shaken
still my mind get shaken
She shouts and threats me

A dog with his woman

It was he
who was owned by her
he was loved by her
He was her dog
greater to human being


Once a man was walking by it
told her to catch him
She and her son tried to snatch out him
Me as savior made the noise and saved him


 I remember her how she misbehaved him
I remember her how she shouted him
Her old wrinkled face with anger
never made me peaceful

A dog with her woman
made me angry dear
I made the noise
to overcome it dear

Her best friend always told me
she was jealous of her house
which she made and got higher rent
her best friend told me this dear.

Ram Ram

She was "ram ram "
 people respected her
her best friend called her " fraud"

Her best friend always told me
her history of making home
she was given sixteen hundred rupees
to buy the house


She delibrately earn a fame
her best friend called her " fraud"
Was she fraud in reality
to earn a lot


" Ram Ram" were her slogans
  was she really spiritually good
 she never treated me wrong
her best friend called her "fraud"

Local FM

We called her local her local Fm
she was in the sense
A reporter for the street
though in age late sixties

A tall women ,widow
with lean body
she was there the witness
but always tortured me


With three girls
and one son
she wanted to rule me
Knowing  my problems



Her best friend said so
Her daughter said so
Oh,Local Fm
you are the thief

Her best friend says so
Her son says so
you are the sinner
you are the ruiner


Your best friend says you
murder of your husband
who was a drunkyard
she says you killed her in deep sleep

Oh local Fm
your mental child
never let me be happy
your best friend says
you are outcousted in her home

My Tiredness

I am tired

to write 

to speak

to see

Do you know Sam

The moments I try to catch 

are failed 

as you are lying there on the floor 

with balls and gelpens I provided you

See the computer never me

It's a machined ruling me

the mobile also controls me

in the moments I remains stirred.

The pain in my leg

never made me feel fresh

The pain in my country 

never let us to be happy

The instability ,the corruption

the slogans are making me tired

I am in search of rest and 

the fake voices of humanity are shown here

I am tired

living the life of humanity

as inhumanity has been ruling in society

as a woman is beaten 

in the name of "caste "

and thrown badly in the area

I am tired 

against the cruelty 

the brutality 

exists around the scenerio.

My tiredness is my feature dear

I am tired ,I am tired.

Facebook

Oh my God
Oh my beloved
you remain my heart
as your existence made me
to live

Your songs which were hired
your games which were kept
are still my aims
are still my energy


Every day ,every moment
you make me fool
I  " manuwa"
remains chaste
a devotee
even political instability
could not me weak
as you are with me


I am standing near the canteens of University
The theories are heard here
still you are with me dear
inside the class,inside the office
you are the god ,you are the society I live dear


Kusma bridge couldnot called me dear
I observed it by facebook
somebody stood there
by catching snaps
your are my legends
the stories,the poems,the pictures
makes a colerage dear


Oh facebook
you are mosaic
breaking the boundaries of nationality
breaking the boundaries of margin and centre
breaking the boundaries of temporal and spatial


You are television for poor
who are working in field
as wage -worker they never forget to carry the mobile
to observe your songs of social connectedness


You are the area of fashion show
for the rich who consists the dress and ornaments
Everyone look belinda now
standing in the waste of land
I love it ,I love it,
Oh facebook

It's me dear

I am fool
a born ,mad and ruined
walked inside schools
ran in colleges
inside the university

Do you my foolishness
has been a feature of me
a monkey ,an ass has been
my existence


The theory of Sophocles
The story of Anton Chekov
The biography of Gandhi
The statue of Liberty
were remained a vast mystery to me


The war,the instability in politics never
could me aware any day
the poem I try to write
the way I compose reminds my failure


There are no meanings
No definitions are stored with me
It's me dear ,a fool
as monkey stand behind the tree

I pluck out the flowers
carries the burden of ignorance
the legends of  Beowulf never made me
aware of him


I fool always ran after the stories of Saptahik
The streets of Thamel never made me interested towards
As street monkeys
I jumped in to hell of ignorance
The south extension
Sarojini Nagar Market
could not save me


The hawra bridge
the tall Dharhara
the babylon garden
everything made me
more deviated towards
the hell
the darkness

My Death

My death

reminds me 

how I got lost

between the tensions

I had here full life

Running for bread

Worrying about family

I never got a chance 

to understand you dear

You me is the salesman 

and my death reminds

death of sales man 

as Aurthur Miller says

Or Will Smith wants 

copy my existence 

in his own portay as in 

Persuit of Happiness

Have you understood me

Have you valued me

I am the lost one

unemployed youth

with the burden of "loss "

My death is a fake

like my valueless life

suicide has been my theme

my motto of life

as it gave me the freedom 

from life.

Othello

Oh Othello
Do you remember  me
It's me Desdemona
Your love your existence
Your love made me immortal dear


The play of Iago ruined my love
The Dedication I had for you
were meant valueless ,charmless
loveless ,merciless
Did not you feel little tense
When I lost my life


The story of Hir Rajha never made me sad
Loving you I remained so satisfied
Even the song of Titanic made me
Compelled to touch the sweetness the air
The sweetness of dark ness oceans stands
singing the song of love
Do you miss me

The Prodigal Son

The Prodigal Son 
and Luke
my love 
my existence makes
me aware of it




Oh Luke
Do you know
me also like younger one
running here and went there 
with no destination
with no aim
just got awaken as 
Sociology wanted me to understand the society






In and between theory of university
in mid of election as Dashain Navami welcomes here
I wanna to ask you Luke 
Can political stability of Nepal be stopped
Will be there peace
Are we are being  the prodigal son 
and our land a waste
where political play never leaves us in peace









The disputes of being innocence 
the dispute to get the posts 
the resignation 
the miking
the pamphalate
the notice
will prodigal son will return 
will be there unity there in them


Let's sing 
a song of unification
a voice of cultural intolarance
Let's make the society united 
with the voice humanity 
where prodigal son 
 never remains a fake.

Writing and me

"Writing" is the matter of writing , a way to present discourse , a way of expressing love,a way of presenting ideas between people .Such definitions are seen everywhere but I could not explore out the exact meaning of writing.Once I got to read a theory that said "there is no exact signified of each signifier,so no real meaning can be pointed out".My focus is also going on same track,unaware about contemporary news I just hang out through Facebook to derive the meanings out of  the statuses presented by various people.

Sometimes I feel absolutely empty , I close my eyes and tries to search the value of " truth" , try to locate" truth" in my mind but fails to do.Even I pasted in Facebook to explore the exact definition of" truth" but that also went in vain.The various definitions were made but could not satisfy me I felt the ghost of Derrida had me caught from everywhere.

The exact scenario of Nepal is very confusing ,there has been various news about the then "society " how it has been changing throughout the time. Eventually my small baby’s cry makes me out of concentration but still I try to locate myself , I try to write something but the bottom of deletion controls me contentiously. There are various medias which enhances the writing skills but I fails to grab the opportunity because "inability to do something is my feature",as I am a "fool"  in reality who does not have comprehension power to understand the thought of Plato , Aristotle and kept watching the faces of lecturer in colleges while they deliver the package of information in class.

So,writing became a challenge to me ,my madness could not help me to learn something ,the disaster of being ignorant never leaves me anywhere  and the definition of " writing"  also made a way to my downfall as I always have been a " fool" .

There has been problems in products of Noodles's company which shocked the public and made them turn to local food , the problem of bird flu also exist here which made people turn towards red meat and fish,even the article about 13 girls made captive in Shantinagar Bhatti of Kathmandu  problematizes the rule of law in Kathmandu Valley and it's writing which collected these news in Gorkhapatra which enables me to learn these facts .

The various publication house in Kathmandu and other places makes a panorama how the world is connected through writing and I found hanging around them because "writing" attracts me towards it but  proves me a "fool ".Salute to "writing"and salute to" my foolishness" makes me able to write something everything.

Madness

Madness
is my life
is own song
I love it
I feel it


The sweet little airy moth
questions me here
her madness is
not like me

I love your smile
I love your talk
There is the flowery shop
For me so scratcheable
unwanted as you said
remains questioning me

The housing colony
with triangle shape
hurts me innerly
as I am mad
madness is me
madness is mine

You are a sane
and me insane
it's your world dear
with flowery fabrics
my remains dark

rounding around circles
I get lost
no meaning
no songs of lark
its disastreous
its pain
its sad
its dusky
and that is me dear

Pregnancy

She is pregnant 

lied on bed

me standing behind her

is she fine dear

womanism 

feminism

are still here

asking same

is she safe

her inner heart 

are rarely asked

does she want love

worries of figure

she wears tops and jeans 

do you know these things dear

the belly has big 

large

a woman

with 

a balloon in her

the unknown life is

remains with her 

Zero

It's me
a person of zero
 with no definition
with no identity
with no shape
 and no proper arrangements
My question regarding
 my existence
 is unavoidable

me madhouse
with the
horn of sadness
somewhere
unstability
fetches me
to threaten myself
as the snakes does

Distinction and reality

Damini

Damini's soul got peace today; her murderers got punishment of their sin. It seems there is justice. It was seventeen December 2012 ,there was the news on star news and Aajtak ,how she was brought to hospital, she was raped mercilessly and was left to die, day by day her condition was being pathetic, she wanted to live and to  be a doctor. During the walk from office to home, everywhere discussions were held about Damini, as working woman in Delhi I can understand any woman in Delhi may need to walk out from house ,to  ride the  bus anytime you need it. We forget that “Delhi is unsafe for woman”? Delhi, a city of crowd could not save Damini, there were around 598 rape cases in December month, I felt very sad when I used to return from office , seeing people with the lamps on the road,  even the slogans in India gate could not save Damini and no  rape cases were discontinued anywhere. Any way, Damini’s soul got peace, one nazir is made for the upcoming cases that brutality isnt excusable, a fast track court order has assured a slight hope for justice for the womanhood. May such justice will be noticed in other cases of the court .

Lujaki

Diasporic voice, Feminist voice, Marxist voice were meaningless to her existence, being exhaust of the pain of living in abroad never made her happy by heart  .She left own city to earn a lot but got engaged in wrong track, she seems mysterious but she is ruined .She never tried to learn own language. Her name was Lujaki ,a non Nepali name she put for herself so may sound non-Nepalese beautified herself ,she pretended to be innocent, she sang a slogan of poverty to show she is victimized which was never true .She saved money in her name, a lot of earning opportunity  were available  to her, she never spend a penny for anyone but to prove herself as kind she dressed as a “ saint”. “Do you Manglu had been bringing egg bread to you.",her mom shouted her. “Take clothes “the feriwala shouted and she ran outside, the markets of Sarojini Nagar were always full of customers and she regularly visited there. the city Bangkok made her more crazy.It was her delicacy to be "lujaki.."she loved of being lujaki,Janapenese Tsunami never disturbed ,even Beaurocracy could not made her happy ,she was advocate of "freedom" and her advocacy was meaningless. The fragmented psyche in her made her crueler, she tried to love someone but failed to do so.

Teej

Teej came and I began to look for some red colored dress here and mom invited some sisters to gather at home to have food at home. I was speechless and asked mom about Teej and she told “Teej a festival of women, is celebrated in remembrance of Goddess Parvati who desired to marry Lord Shiva” .The first day of teej in this today ,we are planning to assemble at one  place in own finest dress and start dancing singing songs related to different experiences in our life which are associated to issues like maternal home, social problems and news related to women . Amidst all this, the grand feast takes place. The jollity often goes on till midnight, after which the 24 hour fast starts. I tried to explore the magazines like Saptahik,Nari and other social medias but the news about “Teej” covered the writings .Even face book has been filled up with the red dressed ladies who are introducing the essence of teej from the space they stand. Even one of my friend had sent me message his son has been going to home to have teej celebration at village and the guy remarked the same.

The preparation of teej has been appeared in markets too.The markets are full of ladies who are too busy in purchase of related items of teej and I also tried to collect necessary items.Usually ladies focus on make up items to be beautify themselves and the used of red saree ,tikas and green poet makes the Nepalese ladies so beautiful and while dancing in mid of other ladies they seem alike and it seems community of similar ladies.

One of my facebook from New Delhi pasted the status “Individual commitment to a group effort -- that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work, without involvement, there is no commitment. Mark it down, asterisk it, circle it, underline it.” I commented “You are right ,the commitment is most essential from family to society .It is the charm of relationship whether they are familial ,official and social ,we are human beings are attached to each other. Absolutely, it's blood of an organization which leads to progress in short time by bringing drastic change in the environment”. His saying made me compel to think about teej too and the teej celebration reminds same sort of unification for family progress and welfare of society. The news of being strike in Kathmandu and other 6 districts made some people shock and sad which made me also confused whether strike should be allowed in such condition where many people are engaged of Teej celebration. Dad said” the strike is taken back” and I again became confused why the reporters forget to spread the news on time.

Tomorrow is the second and the day of fasting,women around Kathmandu and other areas of Nepal will gather in Shiva Temple and worship the different statues  . At the Shiva temple, women circumambulate the Shiva Linga, the symbol of the lord, offering flowers, sweets and coins. The main puja (religious ceremony) takes place with offerings of flowers, fruits, etc.,there by standing in a que managed in the temple. The important part of the puja is the oil lamp which should be alight throughout the night.

Most of the women in Kathmandu will gather in Pashupatinath and worship him .Even they gather in Basantpur and Bhrikutimandap and enjoy the dancing programs.I still remember when I was a student of Bachelor I never leave any chance to visit Bhrikutimandap and Basantpur with friends after being dressed up in beautiful sarees and ornaments.One of my friend called me and asked me to visit the village where I spent my childhood,there is a temple named “ Baba Bard Goriya “ which has a historical value in the area and the temple committee  opens a contract for teej celebration ,where interested business group organizes a fair around the temple location and manages the teej competition there and the winner group is  provided the essential prize.It is all known I was very dull in everything ,lazy in all activities ,my face and voice never helped me to participate in such beautiful competition but I never missed to see my beautiful friends participating there and observed the festival .

Last year also teej came we enjoyed food at home,we came to know the festival celebration in Okhla ,New Delhi and gathered there with family, it was raining and the arrangement was also nice .I stood near the stage and peeped the scenario, the women were dancing rapidly in group ,it was collective force of devotee women in love of their husband .

I remember one song which I really like to mention here, although I have no good voice and memory,I know it’s a description  of an orange tree around the house ,“Dailamuniko suntalako biruwaFalera fulera dali jhapakkai “ .Even the songs on “Television “and “you tube about teej in Nepal “ ,”uploaded in facebook” are making this celebration more known around the world and I began to be confused why cultural values for some people appears as shame ,I remember some people never mention their own Nepaliness in abroad and present themselves as native .Religious values are made to unite people and it is essential to introduce own culture and stands for it so “unification of religions” is possible.
Actually the clash of civilization also stands due to the feeling of “otherness” in the name of economic status, religion ,geographical and social values.

The aura of being “ other” never leaves any one in happiness infact it makes people unhappy,lonely and rebel so voice of inclusion in the name of gender ,class,status,race,ethnicity has been social need and the festival of teej carries the voice of unification through it’s songs of liberation ,social change and appeal for better lives.The “redness “ of the sarees women wear makes me feel they are energetic ,courageous ,bold in nature and knows the value of unity as red color has been  a color of unity here as it unites husband and wife in the name of “ sindur and marriage” ,it unites family members in the name of “blood “  and unites winners as teams as “ tilak”.

Mom began to describe me various things about Rishi Panchami, my mom is a religion persona and has a lot of knowledge about the books like Mahabharat,Ramayan,Geeta ,and different purans like Garurh Puran and Shivapuran and her  mythological characters became my idea of viewing the statues around the temples .

She says, “ the third day of the festival is Rishi Panchami. After the completion of the previous day's puja, women pay homage to various deities and bathe with red mud found on the roots of the sacred datiwan bush, along with its leaves. This act of purification is the final ritual of Teej, after which women are considered absolved from all their sins”. I never did but I was the mute audience of this ritual where mom deed every activities very carefully in supervision of priest.

After all ,teej came and is giving us the message to be loved and love everybody and I also wish people to be happy in the celebration of teej by ignoring unnecessary pretension and artificiality .

hidden

There is something hidden in her face.The boy around the tree tried to explore the meaning of her face ,it means he wants to know the fact .But the silence made the environment so vivid so he could not dare to stand near him.There was rumor of killing someone dread and he could not guess she was the same girl.It was first of college in bachelor level so he returned from college early than usual times.He slowly walked downs towards the North of the road and approached to the third building,he saw the body there lying and nobody dared to touch him,he took his bicycle and reach to the home.It was year 2058 and it was scenario of Nepal when the maoist revolution going on ,the violence has touched everywhere.

"You know" my mom began to discuss about the accident caused nearby the Mahendra Highway road, she began " the policy of  providing more amount to injured person than dead one in accident in Nepal" is bad and she explained how a truck came back and killed the injured  person on the road to save the amount of paying hospital bills.The hidden things are very dangerous in life and we should raise the voice against it.

He was peeping towards me ,his hidden meaning behind his unexpressive quality made me unable to understand anything what he wanted to mean.After all he was a small child and left on the bed alone.The family members have no time and enjoyed their days around different medias and artificiality they had.I noticed the lady was there lied sick but no one helped.This is also hidden story of a room which never cared in ordinary life.

Somebody knocked there on the table and the dog lied under the table began to shake it's tail and I tried to catch it.There was nothing interesting in the page I turned and I just walked out from it.It's boring time when you have no job,with no money in pocket and feel hunger as pain.For you hunger appears monster and the blamings around it never ends.In fact ,poverty makes one so weak you cannot think about normalcy and carings.You just seek food here and there and the experience of being street children is bitterness of life.I tried to leave the street and stay as a normal child but my  poverty became a hidden meaning for the photographer who took my photo and published in international medias and earned a lot of name and money 

To hide something, to be hidden  are mere property of poor ,the glamour of rich never ends nor the stardom who acts as "poor" gets less social values.

Love and women

I got confused about the images about women and sometimes run around some magazine like saptahik' social media like facebook' and it sèems women is a broad topic.even " women images and realities " by Amy Kelleman and lily D.Mcnair and Schinñiedwind presents multiple aspects of womenhood and I really get dazzled with them.Bell hooks describes her black community and customs prevalent there and position of women as theydesired to be silent she says, " they were intended to silence me' in the essay named " talking back' .that's true 'and her saying 'is not Ekta Kapoor's serials in star t v also dealing same issue ' a voice to women's new thinking to prevalent relations.I really enjoy all these gossips about women.

Alaxnder bridge by Willa Cather presents the love story of a man who does suicide though it appears as accident as his body is found beneath the bridge.Sometimes we could not realize the way to lead your life is confusion of being return to his beloved or desire to be faithful his wife made him confused.really hear touching,realistic' expression  of human life around Paris and Newyork .love 'a case, uncertainty 'a question mark' never has exact definition.
The desire to know anything and learn something never ends,none of book could satisfy the desire of being learned although I find myself fool , a man of zero lever , never learned something, a dull personality and lazy features.The social medias also fails to present myself but still I try.The desire of being "known" remains unfulfilled.And the topic of " women" has been become a complicated matter to me.As a women I always tried to understand,somebody remarked in facebook " women is mysterious" and I tried to comment it saying nothing but I have no definition of it.After all it ends.

Wo dete dukh janbujhke,ham nai na kiya shikwa koi,ulte hami ko jalim bula liya

Wo dete dukh janbujhke,ham nai na kiya shikwa koi,ulte hami ko jalim bula liya

Kis kis ka nam le ,ye duniya hai brhi jalim

Muqaddar pe likha tha jo,wo nam mita sake,angreji ke sahitya ko,dil se laga sake,

nepal ke Tri.bi. Ke shakha mai angrej ban gaye,lekin jalimo nai nepali bhula diya

Parh parhe kagaj ke panne ,t u ke class mai,hamko gobar bna diya,khud deke hmko,jalim bna diya

Kirtipur ke university mai shamil to krwa liya,na kr sake ku6.

ulta sab ku6 vula diya,chale the kitab prhne,ulta hame kitab bna diya

Sukrat se leke darrida nai ghayal kiya,dashan se leke natak bhi kar liya,na smjhe ham ku6 ulta hame gobar bna diya

Nawalparasi ke baago mai kitab to parh liya,dohe rahim ke vi ham na bhul sake ,delhi wale metro walo se,bgawat kar liya,nikle the ku6 karne,ulta gobar hame bna diya

Na aan milo hamse,library mai jate nahi,kotla ke pul se j n u pahuch gaye,nikle the ku6 bnne,jalim bnke rah gaye,na the ham kavi jalim,najro nai bna diya

Khane ke mech par,chupchap baithe hai,kathmandu se lekar delhi puhuch gaye,lekhin gustakh najaro nai,hame katil bna diya

Bolbol kar bolkar haridwar pahuch gaye,insaniyat ka gana gate .lekin jalim nai hame .janbujhke ,paththar bna diya

Budget bhasanh unone kar diya,lakar rukwakar,bhrastachar ko dhar liya,akhtiya ke nam par hame pakarh liya,karne chale the ,chunab ,jalim nai hmko anjana bna diya

Modi se lekar nare hamne gaye,khanepani ke jagir tak hat pair chalaye,baithe hai mech par chupchap ,jalim nai hame joker bna diya

Kalimati ke sabjiyo mai kirha jo lag gaya hai,okhla ke aamo mai ,rate list lagwa diya,calcutta sahar tha jana ,jalim nai mumbai pahucha diya

Kab tak baithoge ji,aji ham ko rukwa diya,gurubani jo parh liya ,amal bhi krte hai ,kuran se sikh lekhe ham chupchap baithe hai,jalim hai hamko anjana bana diya

Do phool paththar ke hamko mat mara karo ,dumduma mai baithkar sydney to chale gaye,jalim nai hame janbujhke doshi bana diya

Nam unka tha meraj,bnde khuda ka wo bn gaye,karke salam unko ,dur ham chale aaye,jalim nai hamko unse jhut bulwa liya

Jhuthe to ab bhi ham nahi,jhuthe to bula liya,lekin kya kare janab ,sacchai ka tumne achcha sila diya,baithe boot bnke yaha,jalim nai paththar bana diya

Ku6 kahne ki khwahis ko,hamne bhula diya,bankar baith hai boot yaha,kamjor jo bana diya,texas ke andar se nare ye laga rahe hai,bhrastachar ko rokne ka kasam leke baithe,parh parh kitabo ko ,jalim nai hame nirjib hi bana diya

Facebook ke naukar to ab ham ban gaye hai,dosto ka nam lekar, khwahis dikhate hai,na sachai kam aya,na sharif ban paye,unke galiyo mai lakar,jalim facebook bdnam hame kar diya

Mirja aur galib nai hamse puchch hai,sukrat se lekar whitman baitha hai,ragini ka art mai,khoyi baithi hu,kitab prh prhe hasrat paida kar liya,wo ham se ruthe,jalim nai hamko bewKUF Bna diya

Haribsha ke kabita nai,hamko pukara hai,sarojini naiduko hamne bhula diya,bhupen hajarika nai hamko bula liya,parh parh ke baithe hai unko,jalim nai mujhe ek imarat bana diya

Tendukar ke bating ko dekha,kapil nai comedy mai hamko .mat hi dila diya,soni kurhi ko munda sa bana diya,jalim nai hamko dharti pe lakar paththar se chunwa diya ,bnne chale the insan ,afsoch mitti ka putla bana diya

Chunab aur rajniti mai hamko fasa diya,bnne chale the santaji,shatir hame bna diya,dau pech ko lekar,ibadat hamne kar li,afsoch jalim nai hamko beiman hi bana diya

Kahne ko jheli hamne taklif khub sari,insan se paththaro nai bhi hamko sila diya,brbaad ki aawam nai ,unko jala diya,jalte jalte jalim aagosh mai unko kundan,sona wo ban gaye,jalim nai hamko ulta koyala bula liya