Hills have fallen,
Towns and villages have crumbled,
Our hearts continue to be panicked,
Many things have turned into dust and pieces.
But, hope is alive, faith is strong,
Resilience is not dead, perseverance is abundant.
So, we will rise from rubble,
We will rebuild the nation from debris,
And sheer devastation and cries of now will be history sooner than later.
People rose, and people rose from every nook and corner,
Because their freedom was hijacked,
Their dreams were murdered,
Their voices were silenced, and they were not citizens, but slaves.
Peasants, workers, teachers, students, everyone stood,
They stood for a cause-cause of doing way with autocracy.
They braved the bullets, tear gas and thrashing,
They braved atrocities and torture because,
They dreamt of a golden dawn,
They envisioned about better days ahead.
Alas! Nine years down the line, enthusiasm and dynamism seen in the agitators have faded away,
A single autocrat has gone, but myriad mini-tyrants have superseded HIS place,
Those students who braved the bullets and atrocities are toiling in the sweltering heat of the Gulf,
Hills and terraces have gone empty,
People who dreamt of bright days in the far-flung are dying from medicine crunch,
He who imagined of rule of law has gotten fed up with cycle of strikes and badhs.
Martyrs’ sacrifices have gone into oblivion,
Youths’ dream of jobs have become mere electoral speeches,
Corruption, inflation, scarcity, chaos and instability have become a norm of the day,
Now, a question strikes everyone’s mind,
Was an uprising for Loktantra a mirage? Was it an illusion? Did it not happen?
“Haven’t you cooked meal yet, Reeta? asked Harka Bahadur to his wife”. Harka seemed to be in a hurry today. He had already donned a grey shirt, a black pant and a new coat that he had purchased from the district headquarters when had visited the place to meet government officials as to the drinking water project the village was soon going to start work on. Reeta was slicing vegetables at the kitchen on the top of the house. Upon hearing husband calling her, she climbed down the stair to inquire what he was intending to say as his words were vaguely audible. “Why are ready so early? Where are you going?” she bombarded him with questions with a look of surprise on her face.
The far-flung vicinity in the countryside had witnessed upsurge in the violent incidents of late. This had the local folks unnerved. After a series of meetings, the people in the village had made up a mind to do something to keep the social malady at a bay. “I have an invitation to inaugurate a campaign to check the violence against women”, Harka responded dictating his wife to ready the meal without further ado.
Everyone in Taluwagaun revered him which rendered him a sense of gratification. As he was educated man, villagers sought advice from him. If someone had to marry off a daughter or send his/her son to the Gulf to work, his decision would be final. When the village required a tap, a road or school, Harka would be at the forefront. So, he was a hope for the rustics.
The ambiance at the Bhorle Primary School was quite different today. The school premise looked neat and tidy as it had been cleaned up. The route that runs from the village to the school was neatly swept. Chairs were placed in myriad rows on the school ground. As time went by, people started filling the vacant chairs. Soon, the school compound turned into a sea of humanity. But, the mass was staring at the road. They were eagerly awaiting Chief Guest to turn up. In a matter of few minutes, Harka strolled to the school premise. With mouth wide open, he smiled. When he entered the venue, everyone stoop from their chair and applauded to welcome him.
On the arrival of the Chief guest, the programme has kicked off, proclaimed the announcer. We are here today for a noble work. We are assembled to do something to check the injustice and inhumane treatment meted out to the women, said a thin boy of early twenties giving the background about the mass gathering. After he introduced the objective of the programme, he cordially called upon the chief guest to inaugurate the campaign and air his views pertaining to the atrocity women face at the hands of men in the family, neighbourhood and society. With a great pride on his head, Harka started to address the gathering. “Dear mothers, fathers, sisters, young and others present here, I feel immensely glad to be here with you. When I hear a husband thrashing his wife, it hurts me. When a youth in mid-twenties rapes a teenage girl, this breaks my heart. We hear the cases of violence escalating by the day. So, we have an utmost duty to save our sisters and druthers from the evil-minded people to establish a society that treats both man and woman with equality”, the chief guest addressed. He continued, “Man and woman are two wheels of the same cart. If a cart goes dysfunctional, the cart can not move”. To run a family happily, a husband and wife have an equal role to play. Those who discriminate women, harass them, inflict physical and mental pain must be met with harsh punishment, Harka spoke energetically.
While Harka was delivering the speech, the mass was felt uneasy and disturbed owing to the show up of a team of police personnel in uniform. They were accompanied by a middle-aged man. The unexpected presence of police personnel had sent a chill down Harka’s spine but he managed to have calmness outwardly. An Inspector accosted to the Chief Guest and took over the microphone from him. There was a pin drop silence. The mass could even feel the gust of air as it turned still. None dared to react why their leader was being prevented from delivering speech. “We are here to arrest Harka Bahadur for his involvement for his dastardly act of raping a 13-year-old girl at his neighbourhood”, the Inspector said. Meanwhile, an irate man in his early thirties stood from his seat and challenged the Inspector to show the evidence before blaming his social path shower.
The Inspector furnished a report on the case. The report said: “It was the day of Maghe sankrati. Ila came home from the headquarters after her school was over. She was studying at grade VII at Himalayan Boarding. Her father had stayed at the headquarters-based rented apartment as he had workload at the District Administration Office where he worked as a clerk. Harka was heading home. On the way, he saw Ila playing at her courtyard at the dusk. When Harka got Ila’s home, she greeted him and requested him to sit on the cot placed in the yard. “Where have you been uncle?” asked Ila. To the village down on the basin, replied Harka. She brought a glass of water which he gulped as he had grown tired of walking.
The darkness grew thicker. And Harka began to feel carnal longing in him. Ila’s mother had been to the paddy filed to irrigate the crops. It was clear from the minor’s remark that her mother would be late. Suddenly, the man pounded on the child as tiger attacking on lamb. He pressed her mouth so that her screaming remained inaudible. Then, he satiated his lust.
By the time Inspector had read out the incident, Harka’s body was already in perspiration. His body was trembling. Joining his hands, he pleaded that he was not guilty. The middle-aged man accompanying the police team bemoaned, “I am heartbroken as my daughter is struggling for her life at the district hospital following the incident”. After the Inspector ordered, his subordinates nabbed Harka before they handcuffed him. Soon after, men in uniform whisked the chief guest with them. Shell-shocked, everyone left the venue. A man was heard saying, “How fool we have been by a hypocrite?”
Name: Ushak Karki
Address: Ratopul, Kathmandu
Contact No: 9851133107
I am novice to writing. Sometimes, a vicious aspiration takes birth in my mind to express the ideas formed in my mind in beautiful and well-organized sentences. Like everyone else, I go to the office, meet people and see places. Different feelings and emotions that rush in my mind want to get written in amusing way. Everyone undergoes ups and downs in their life. And I can be no exception. I sincerely wish to put both sunny and rainy experience in fascinating manner. Very many times, I have awkward dreams, dreams that I had not even imagined I would see them in dream. Once I dreamt of embarking on space to view the Earth. I saw the earth covered with green hills and green fields stretching from the East to the West and vice-versa. That was nearly a fortnight ago. Of late, I found myself taking class in the open with a Professor Noam Chomsky in the eastern hillside of Nepal. The class was disrupted by abrupt rainfall. I cannot recall where Mr Chomsky disappeared or went.
To cut the matter short, manifold ideas and feeling race in my cognitive faculty every minute and every hour. Sometimes, I have euphoria though people around me are in misery. Other times, people around me are merrymaking while I am down with frustration. A few books I have started reading recently. Visit? I have not had a great opportunity to tour and see many places.
When my fingers are staying away from keyboard, my mind gets inundated with a gamut of ideas. I feel as if ideas and feelings will burst out if I fail to provide suitable outlet. They battle in my mind and vie with each other to come out of me. When the race is about to take off, I garner the audacity to turn my fingers on the laptop to shape the crowd of ideas rushing in my head into an appropriate syntax. The moment I press the letters in the keyboard, ideas fighting to come out of my brain get stranded midway. My fingers halt there. After a few minutes, my mind teeming with floods of ideas and thoughts just before goes blank. To put it other way, my mind goes a tabula rasha, like a blank sheet of paper.
As the mind goes blank, I seek blogs and write-ups offering suggestions on writing techniques and formulas. “One can write and be a good writer through persistent practice’, says a famous South American fiction writer. Write, write, write and write, says a popular American author of 20th century to the aspirant of writing both fiction and non-fiction. As I want more advice, I continue searching additional recommendation. A British author puts, “You have to be good reader to be a writer”. I take the last advice with utmost gravity. Guided by the specter of being capable to write something, I visited a book store at Jamal and procured Blue Mimosa, translation of Parijat’s Sirishko Fool and Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea”. Reason: they are slim and language simple to construe. I flip through Old Man and the Sea. Going through twice, I managed to piece together its plot. I made unsuccessful attempts to comprehend symbols, setting and others used in the novella.
Wondering about Blue Mimosa? As it has around 100 pages, anyone one can do with it in a single or two sittings. I concluded it in two settings. Characters, I still remember as they happen to be Nepalese. Story? Yes, I could follow it too. But, I could not come up with a motif binding the whole story. I still regret not being able to decode that. Now, my tyro mind says that you have finished two books so you can embark on your work. I turn to the laptop once again. I effort to write, write to give concrete shape to my intangible thoughts and feelings. I try to put thoughts in sentences to mollify battling thoughts in my head. Unfortunately, by the time I am ready to press the keyboard, ideas and feelings fade away from the mind and My Mind turns goes tabula rasha again.
Name: Ushak Karki
Address: Ratopul, Kathmnadu
Contact No: 9851133107
“Haven’t you cooked meal yet, Reeta? asked Harka Bahadur to his wife”. Harka seemed to be in a hurry today. He had already donned a grey shirt, a black pant and a new coat that he had sewn at the district headquarters when had visited the place to meet government officials as to the drinking water project the village was soon going to commence. Reeta was slicing vegetables at the kitchen on the top floor of the house. Upon hearing husband calling her, she climbed down the stair to inquire what he was intending to say as his words were inaudible. “Why are ready so early? Where are you going?” she bombarded him with questions with a look of surprise on her face.
The far-flung vicinity in the countryside had seen surge in the incidents of violence of late. This had the local folks unnerved. After a series of meetings, the people in the village had made up a mind to do something to keep the social malady at a bay. “I have an invitation to inaugurate a campaign to check the violence against women”, Harka responded dictating his wife to ready the meal without further ado.
Everyone in Taluwagaun revered him which accorded him a sense of gratification. As he was educated man, villagers sought advice from him. If someone had to marry off a daughter or send his/her son to the Gulf to work, his decision would be final. When the village required a tap, a road or school, Harka would be at the forefront. So, he was a hope for the rustics.
The ambiance at the Bhorle Primary School was quite different today. The school premise looked neat and tidy as it had been cleaned up. The route that runs from the village to the school was neatly swept. Chairs were placed in myriad rows on the school ground. As time went by, people started filling the vacant chairs. Soon, the school compound turned into a sea of humanity. But, the mass was staring at the road. They were eagerly awaiting Chief guest to turn up. In a matter of few minutes, Harka strolled to the school premise. With mouth wide open, he smiled. When he entered the venue, everyone stoop from chair and applauded to welcome him.
With the arrival of the Chief guest, the programme has kicked off, proclaimed the announce. We are here today for a noble work to launch a drive to reduce the injustice meted out against the women by males, said a thin boy of early twenties giving the background about the mass gathering. After he introduced the objective of the programme, he cordially called upon the chief guest to inaugurate the campaign and air his his views pertaining to the atrocity women face at the hands of men in the family, neighbourhood and society. With a great pride on his head, Harka started to address the gathering. “Dear mothers, fathers, sisters, young and others present here, I feel immensely glad to be here with you. When I hear a husband thrashing his wife, it hurts me. When a youth in mid-twenties rapes a teenage girl, this breaks my heart. We hear the cases of violence escalating by the day. So, we an utmost duty to save our sisters and druthers from the evil-minded people to establish a society that treats both man and woman with equality”, the chief guest addressed. He continued, “Man and woman are two wheels of the same cart. If a cart goes dysfunctional, the cart can not move”. To run a family happily, a husband and wife have an equal role to play. Those who discriminate women, harass them, inflict physical and mental pain are subject to harsh punishment, Harka spoke energetically.
While Harka was delivering a speech, the mass was felt uneasy and disturbed owing to the show up of a team of police personnel in uniform. They were accompanied by a middle-aged man. The unanticipated presence of police personnel had sent a chill down Harka’s spine but he managed to have calmness outwardly. An Inspector accosted to the Chief Guest and took over the microphone from him. There was a pin drop silence. The mass could even feel the gust of air as it turned still. None dared to react why their leader was being prevented from delivering speech. “We are here to arrest Harka Bahadur for his involvement for raping a 13-year-old girl at his neighbourhood”, the Inspector said. Meanwhile, an irate man in his early thirties stood from his seat and challenged the Inspector to show the evidence before placing such a heinous accusation on his chief guest.
The Inspector furnished a report on the case. The report said: “It was the day of Maghe sankrati. Ila came home from the headquarters after her school was over. She was studying at grade VII at Himalayan Boarding. Her father had stayed at the headquarters-based rented apartment as he had workload at the District Administration Office where he worked as a clerk. Harka was heading home. On the way, he saw Ila playing at her home courtyard at the dusk. The girl offered a cot to sit generously as she used to call him uncle. The darkness grew thicker. And he came to know that her mother had been to the filed to irrigate the wheat crops. Concluding that she would be late, Harka took the minor under control with ill-intent. Scared, the teenage girl screamed. But, he pressed her mouth with his right hand and satiated his lust”.
By the time Inspector read out the incident, Harka’s body had begun to perspire. His body was trembling. Joining his hands, he pleaded that he was not guilty. The middle-aged man accompanying the police team bemoaned, “I am heartbroken as my daughter is struggling for her life at the district hospital due to profuse bleeding in her private part following the incident”. After the Inspector ordered, his subordinates nabbed Harka before they handcuffed him. Soon after, men in uniform took the chief guest with them. Shell-shocked, everyone left the venue. A man was heard saying, “How fool we have been by a hypocrite?”
I am novice to writing. I have a passion to jot down the ideas formed in my mind. Every day, I carry out different things which I wish to express in words. Like everyone, I come across ups and downs. I have a great desire to put those things in beautiful sentences. Most of the time, I have awkward dreams. Sometimes, I see myself visiting the unknown and untreaded places. At other times, I have a dream of doing something that I have never expected to do let alone planned. To cut the matter short, hundreds of ideas occur to my mind every minute and every hour. I experience a lot of problems and difficulties daily. I have read a few books and interacted to some people. Visit? I have traveled a few places.
When I am not putting my fingers in the keyboard or pen into paper, spate of ideas flood my mind. I feel as if ideas and feelings are going to burst out. They battle in my mind and vie with each other to come out of me. When the race is about to take off, I amass the courage to turn my fingers on the laptop to shape the crowd of ideas rushing in my head into an appropriate syntax. The moment I press the letters in the keyboard ideas fighting to come out of my brain get stranded midway. My fingers halt there. After a few minutes, my mind replete with floods of ideas and thoughts goes blank all of sudden. To put it other way, my mind becomes a tabula rasha, like a blank sheet of paper.
After the mind turns empty slate, I search blogs and write-ups catering suggestions regarding writing techniques and formulas. “One can write and be a good writer through persistent practice’, says a famous South American fiction writer. Write, write, write and write, says a popular American author of 20th century to the aspirant of writing both fiction and non-fiction. As I want more advice, I continue searching additional advice. A British author puts, “You have to be good reader to be a writer”. I take the last advice with seriousness. Guided by the specter of being able to write something, I procured Blue Mimosa, translation of Parijat’s Sirishko Ful and Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea”.
I flip through Old Man and the Sea. After going through twice, I manage to comprehend the summary. I try to figure out the themes, symbols, and other possible issues that the novella tries to project in it. Blue Mimosa? As it has around 100 pages, anyone one can do with it in a or two sittings. I read it in two settings. Characters, I remember as they happen to be Nepalese. Story? Yes, I can follow it too. But, I could not come up with a motif binding the whole story. I feel guilty for not being able to decode that.
Now, my tyro mind says that you have read two books so you can embark on your passion(oh, no let’s say whim). Again, I turn on the laptop. I try to write, write to be heard and to be
read.No, absolutely not. I try to put thoughts to mollify my interest. The interest of being able to put ideas in words. Unfortunately, by this time, not a single idea , not a single subject do I see, and feel to pen as my mind has gone tabula rasha.
All of sudden, weather has undergone a u-turn. Just a few days ago, temperature was mild. But, with onset of rains and snowfall across the nation, mercury has slipped down the barometer. The hills, mountains and ridges have been covered with ice-sheets. Plains in the Southern belt have been shrouded with clouds and mist. People have an opportunity to play with snow but coldness has proved to be more detrimental than advantageous.
Affluent and well-to-do people have procured warms outfits to avert the bone-chilling cold. They take everything in advance to ward off the chill. But, not everyone is lucky to enjoy the warmness in the dipping mercury. People collect firewood and make fire to avoid the shiver. People lock themselves indoor. Flights get obstructed and vehicles too ply in a few numbers. You see streets wearing deserted looks. Cold causes a lot of health hazards. People suffer from common cold, headache, cough and tonsil. The blood gets frozen due to over cold or low temperature.
Since coldness brings many misery and sorrow to human life, since freezing chill might take life, it is better to take precautions to be protected from chill. Chilly season is here so we need take preventive measures to prevent ourselves from having its adverse impact upon us. Beware of chill to stay healthy. People in Kathmnadu Valley today froze. Everyone could be seen wearing thick and warm attires. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry in the street to get home. Oh, yes, everyone was scared of cold because cold is death and death is always fearful.
ushakkathmandu 