My ordinary words to the extra-ordinary prince

My ordinary words to the extra-ordinary prince

As we waited with prayers on our lips,

Our heart reverberated with this conviction

That the prophesy of the lord be realized;

When the deep blue hue of sky smiled

And the page of New Year unfurled forth;

In the gesture of a precious gift

To the entire nation,

My lord, your coming is an unprecedented phenomenon.

In the visage of a prince,

As you step into this mundane  world,

May you touch our lives with divine blessing;

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Into the ignorant mind of ours,

May you kindle in us compassion and love;

With the crossed hand at  our heart

And wishes on our lips,

We prayer for your long life;

And as long as my lines shall exist

So shall my prayers persist.

My thoughts rippling into wilderness of imagination

  My thoughts rippling into wilderness of imagination

I don’t know what happens to me sometimes, but my eyes get cloudy with the sentiments--with feelings of wanting to cry. I cry, literally. I know it is silly to shed tears of no worth yet I find no other way than this. I don’t know when it comes to family, village and thoughts of missing someone, I can’t hold back my tears. I know I am little too sensitive but nothing has ever helped me—not my maturity either.

Few years down the line, when fortune unfolds what it has in stored for me, I will have gone little too far from what today and yesterday has offered me. I will have grown up. I will have my own agenda to take up.  My life will have taken me far away. I will have been succumbed to the cruelty of changes. My life will have been burning in the flame of what not things.

The need to stand wise before  my fellow villager; the need to become what everyone expects of me and, the need to come into the forefront of societal belief, have brought me far from my village. Where my family lives, lives my everyday’s’ thoughts. Where my childhood memories in umpteen cries and beckon me from past, there dwells my desire. Where winding, crooked and mound of mud sleep to form terraces of paddy field, roams my mind. No matter where destiny drags me, I have never been able to give up the pleasant thought of my village, which on recollection kills me within.

Those people I love, with whom my childhood has faded and, on whose lap and embraces I have fallen, lingers in my heart as an unforgettable memories. Those spot, the plants and birds whose mundane beauty recognize me as what I am, invite me unheard. Those thickets on whose existence I have tread and played--at times counting and calculating, still identify me.

I know in few years time, I will have time to go back home, stay and enjoy what I have been missing, yet everything will have been changed. The small trees which are innocent enough to serve me its shed will have started greeting me and those which greeted me will have withered aged and died. Everything, as natures always does, will have been subjected to a change.

Perhaps, I will have long beards; moustache and youth will have been fading. I will have my own family to take care of; children murmuring for this and that and influences of my wife to spent holiday in her village. Then, I will have gone far from what I am now. I am afraid. I am worried. I will have changed yet there is no armor against the cruelty of uncertainty.

Departure—a tough move

Departure—a tough move

The dusky morning when stars still twinkled,
And the remnant of pitch dark night
Still lingered in the air;
When thicket dwelled in hollow hush
And the rooster crowed in a crescendo
Bidding farewell to the night,
The cruelty of moments flourished
And my departure was at the threshold!
Saying goodbye throttled me,
And imagination of distancing with family,
Was an utter nightmare.
I feared with the wild thoughts
That kept me vigilant
Of the time that would go on,
Of the reality of existence
That we mortals are the poor slave.
I feared with the thoughts of changes
That would murder my innocence as time goes by,
Yet far beyond the chain of hills
I had to take memories,
And leave footprints back.
Bidding farewell was tough,
Yet I did
For the good of mine, theirs and ours!

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A reflection of a loving father

A reflection of a loving father

My life has never been as tough as it should have been for I have been continuously under the supervision of caring parents—mum and dad. Well, I have seen many people undergoing a great struggle in their daily lives unlike me. I have seen many people with a broken dream moving on with life. Many people must not have known what comfort and good life are; they might not have known what it feels to have a supporting father and an inspiring mum; many people might not have experienced the feeling of being motivated and trusted caring dad and a loving mum.

I feel proud to write that my entire life has been ruled by pleasant thoughts—thoughts of being proud of having a great father. There was never a time I ever thought that I am going fail badly; that I am going to be prevented cherishing my dreams. As long as you have a shadow of your parents following you; their love and affection embracing you all the time and holding your hands and leading you, you will never be left hopeless and shattered. Your dreams will see the light of reality. Your life will be a wonderful gift to you. Your destiny will be a pleasant phenomenon.

For many lucky people, your father is a savior; a fulfiller of your dreams, and a guide of your life. My father has been such a notable figure in my life. If I don’t speak to you about him, I am not gonna forgive myself. I must write about him and remind you how great our father is.

When I performed well in studies, he was happier than me. I have seen him boasting and blowing the trumpet. Whenever and wherever he met people, the topic he used to discuss was about my performance. Although I   used to feel shy when he used to talk of my performance and remain away, I thought, one day I would make him prouder than what he was then. I wanted to see him making endless talk about me with others. I wanted work harder every day. I wanted to see him happy about his children.

My primary schooling was very wonderful time to cherish. My father used to give me money every day—sometimes Nu 5 and sometimes Nu 2.This would help me buy four cookies costing Nu 2, and a Miranda Pepsi packed in a small cylindrical plastic. Sometimes, I used to buy rice flakes and share with my friends. In the evening, when my class got over, my father would buy me Nimki(a salty mitghai) and I would go home eating it along the way. Sometimes, he used to buy me a packet of Thin biscuits. This practice of his made me earn a lot of friends because not everyone’s father did like mine. Many friends would walk home with, me eating with me. My father had even instructed many shopkeepers to lend me whatever I ordered, on credits. Such scheme of his however didn’t thrill me for I never wanted to get things on credits.

Soon after I graduated my primary schooling, class eight, I was to go far away to a boarding School. My father was excited, then. Although he didn’t have an original source of his own to earn money, he borrowed from a neighbor promising him to pay paddy as interest annually. He gave me Nu 5000/- to   buy necessities for schooling. It was more than I expected, more than I deserved. I had made a list of things amounting to Nu 3000/- and asked him the same. He gave me more than what I actually desired for. It was a huge sum, at least for me. Off to school went I.  My mum and dad struggled with paddy cultivation and at the end of the year, harvested enough to pay interest. However, sad thing to note, then, was that the money lenders demanded paddy that yielded delicious rice—khamti and masino were the only rice accepted. And, the worst thing was, is and will be that those varieties of rice yielded less in a huge land (Where an acre of land with OR yielded one metric tons, Khamti and Masino variety yield only around 200 -400 kg).

The very fact that we owned only around 60 Decimal wetland that yielded amount that is just enough to pay interest, made us paralyzed in ability. We had to cultivate other land as a sharecropper. Lender used to come with sacks and additional porters at the end of the year. This happened every year and each year the share for interest increased-- doubled, tripled and then quadrupled. However, as long as someone studies well, everyone’s parents will be happy to expand money on their children. My study was good; they felt encouraged to expend on me. My younger brother who got double promotion in class one also used to fare well in studies.

After I qualified for tertiary studies to CNR, he was further inspired and happy. He used to keep his spirit of giving more amount of money than I required, continued. He still was happy and afforded me.

Today where I stand is all his power to push me forward with inspiration and enough support. If what I can cherish as my life, today is what his unconditional love has afforded. His continued support, encouragement and guidance in conjunction with my loving mum pushed me to this platform.

A letter from a mom to her son

A letter from a mom to her son

 Dear son

As I write this to you, I can’t help shed tears that drain off my eyes. Deep down my heart, there seems an unusual pang of despair. Each day as you grow up to be an adult, you seem being fading from my proximity and the thought that you are near me. You have grown up to be someone who I now have to make an appointment to meet.

When you were small, I have cleaned your shit. You used to defecate on your pants but I never hesitated cleaning if off. You were a little baby so innocent that I dependent upon you to survive.  Once on a journey, when I asked the bus driver to stop for some time for you to vomit, he didn’t listen and I had to let you vomit on my cloth .Everyone near me closed their eyes and looked me with hatred but I attacked them back with my smile. When I didn’t get a seat on a bus, I carried you on my back so that you would be comfortable and I stood like many guys. Sometimes even when I got a seat and there were abundant I carried you on my lap and make you sleep by caressing your hair. You would sleep peacefully on my lap and I would remain awake for a long journey.

Sometimes when I was away from you, you would fall down and cry. I had to console you by letting you suckle my nipples. There would be many people around me but I never hesitated to expose my breast just to make you comfortable and happy. When at times, your father came home late with his carelessness and carefree life, I used to narrate you some cooked up fairytale to put you into slumber. After you slept, I would wait late night without taking a morsel of food. When I had to work but you would cry, I used to carry you on my back. I used to drag some reluctant and stubborn cattle with you on my back. Sometime, you used to sit on the heavy sack of rice I carried from mills and sing innocent songs.

Very often during dinner time when I would sit for a plate of rice, you would cry so bad that I had to console and comfort you to sleep with my unwashed hands. By then, appetite with which I would sit, would be gone. When you would vomit on my hand as I fed you some morsel of rice, I wouldn’t wash it. I would find no reason to feel bad for.

Gradually you grew into adult and from toddler to a man now I can see you travel alone. As you have become an independent man, I have experienced a feeling of missing you. I know you must be busy setting your life; sewing every bit of dreams to realize a beautiful reality and travelling paths that will lead you to a better destination. I also know whatever you must be doing, it will be good.

However, every night I lie on the bed, I feel somewhere I have started losing you: You don’t seem bothering about me and your father. Every day, I wait for your call. I want to hear you talk this and that; ask me about your father, grandma and our neighbor. Above all, I want to  see you call me and make me feel that you do remember me. I know it will be tough for you to call me every day, for you must be busy in your study and duty. I would be excited to receive your call sometimes—yes, steal a moment from your busy schedule. Call me. Call your dad. Call your grandma and relatives.

We always want you to be at our sight, but I know education and exposure is must. Therefore, we admitted you to school after a series of pleas to headmaster. After you went away to study, your dad and I remain alone at home. In the evening, by the oven with reddened ambers and yellow flames, we talk of you: We wish you had a beautiful life filled with dream-come true moments. We talk about you on what you must have been doing .We talk of how you used to be and we keep worrying about you, inspite of that fact that you have grown up.

Sometimes, perhaps, you are angry with you girlfriend or friends and you switch off your phone. We worry about you a lot. We worry as why your phone is switched off. Please, take care of your life. Don’t make your life miserable with small misunderstanding with you girl friend. Don’t drink to overcome despair and disappointment .Your father and I are always there for you, no matter what. When we have raised you to this age, never divert yourself and life towards a selfish and problematic girlfriend.We doesn’t want to lose you. Every bit of my organ wants you with me.

Sometimes, when you get time from your busy schedule, come home. Your father and I will be always waiting for you. If you just say, you are coming home; I will be sitting in wait on the corridor with my eyes staring at the road you would emerge from. I would be preparing you meals. for you might reach home hungry. You father always says to me that we won’t ask you to work for us. We would just love to have you at our sight the way I wanted you to be on lap when you were a kid. You don’t need to plough the field, you dad would do. You don’t need to tether the goat and cattle, I and your father would do. All we want is you and your presence. Your father and I will make sure you are protected under the scorching sun the way we have been doing. We will bear beneath the scorching sun and get tanned while you can be home, watch TV or sleep and develop your complexion. You must become smarter so that you would remain more busy in the school or college, dating. (LOL).Please son, come home at least during vacation, leaving your busy schedule. We want to see you for once.

With much love to you, my son

Thanking you

Your loving mother

A calf cries

A calf cries

Moo, moo, moos a little calf

Opening wide its snout;

Perhaps seeking its mother cow

That has been dragged in the field

Away to tether;

Perhaps begging us

To free it

For it might have desired to go

See his mother cow.

Moo, moo,it keeps mooing further.

Moo moo-it is unbearable!

Only a way to stop it

I thought, was to serve it water-

In a big aluminum bowl.

Poured from a big urn of water

I place it near

And there it comes

And gulp endlessly

To empty the bowl.

No moo now; no complaints

Perhaps, it was thirsty

Yet a moo confuses-

But one moo means

A complaint

Mourning

Happiness

Or inquiry.

Such is an animal

But owner should interpret the moo!

My nights

Sometimes at my domain

Through the loveliness of crescent moon

On the poorly lit night

With the lonely empty sky

I seem looking at you -

In thought

In imagination

And in wish.

Sometimes at the full moon

Through wholly lit night

Along the silhouette of   black trees

Against the pale sky

I seem waiting for you-

In thoughts

In imagination

And in wish!