A thing that works well in this world is the illusion of superiority. It makes you think that everything is happening to your best interest, but is in fact making a great profit to their pocket from you. And you are just a tiny little part of it, you don’t even know. A grand design. The Matrix.
Brides always look beautiful. However, their beauty lies not in their attire, but in the warm glow of love that radiates from their faces, their gestures, and their silence. The head held low, snuggled fingers, contemplating, with acquiescence, smile betwixt shudder and solace, acts of obeisance. The anticipation to a new life she has ahead of her, a new self she is going to be, there is a word; metanoia.
The time she remembers how she has imagined this day to be, carried back to the days to her childhood when she had played the bride game with her siblings, to the days she had put on makeups and necklaces and worn her mother’s sarees, to the days her mother had bought her jewelries for her wedding, the days she had been told “you are next to be married”, the day she had got her first proposal, the days when someone somehow had brought pictures of grooms for her, the day she had met the man beside her. The time she will remember back someday and smile on how she had been, what she must have been thinking about. The dress she had packed into the nook of her closet and the pictures of the craziest memories would be nostalgic. Those beautiful memories gestured by her fingers, she is a wonderful bride, the most beautiful indeed.
A tiny leaf holding droplets in every corner on it. i love to see how the dewdrops dazzle during the morning, ornamenting the nature itself, as if the purest bits of life in it came up above from itself to behold the glorious sunshine.
Early in a chilly morning, playing with dew drops, and yeah, just a good time to capture it.
With all due respect, you NRNs, you don’t get to tell me “abroad ma ta univ lai pani school nai vancha” or “abroad ma momo lai dumpling ta vancha ni”. I don’t live in abroad so I will say these a ‘college’ and ‘momo’ and you don’t get to object it. As long as I am here, I am going to call these a ‘college’ and ‘momo’ as per my wish. You don’t get to tell me that you didn’t find authentic sushi or wine in Kathmandu, I have lived my 20 something years hungering for Samebaji and Ailaa. I so don’t care if you didn’t find a kind of pastry you used to eat abroad or your favorite pasta and spaghetti, best you will get is that Black forest and that macaroni. Like the way we say in nepali, “khaye kha nakhaye ghic”.
You don’t get to complain about not getting your favorite genuine brand product in a country of 3.8% GDP, where people die due to cold in winter and almost all donations are from foreigners. Next time you give me that crap, I got my stats ready. Nepal had over 6.6 million poor people (25.4% of its population) in 2010. And poverty line of NRP 32.88 (USD 0.45, EUR 0.32) i.e. NRP 12000 per capita annual income. Average per capita income in Nepal is 750$ according to World Bank. How much your monthly expenditure btw? And how much are you willing to pay for that branded shoe of yours?
And you tell me how polluted Kathmandu is, you didn’t get to breath fresh, when you throw wrappers and tissues on the street every time you visit. Also yeah, I don’t give a shit on how your Disneyland trip went and how you Roller Coaster ride was, I have walked in woods at 10 in night and passed through mountain trails not even 2 feet wide.
The idea of love is a fatal contagion. People these days don’t fall in love, they fall in the idea of love. The concept of being in a relationship, desire of having someone to hold and think about, to know that you can be loved and you can love them back. Love isn’t a necessity in their cases, but they make it one. When everyone around you are in ‘love’, hanging out with their ‘loved one’ and you stand there all by yourself, you would definitely feel how fascinating their life is and how miserable yours is. When your best buddy has to leave early to meet his girlfriend and when your bff won’t even show up for she has to be on a date, you would pretend that you just don’t care being alone but there there! You would feel a cling to have someone like that for yourself, someone who will never leave you, call you when you’re not around, call you and text you till the midnight, and just when you can tell those deceivers that you have got someone as well. To be a special part of someone’s life, to get utmost preference the way you have never got and get so much of attention and affection that you won’t be able to hide it just within yourself. And there’s the idea of love. You have been told from very beginning of life how mesmerizing it is to be in love. How the world needs love to sustain and peace. How love is the only thing that has been binding the world. How damn powerful it is. You don’t care about what person anymore. If s/he is great a person to tell your friends about, if s/he gives you attention that you have been seeking for, if some people try coupling you up and implant the concept into your head and then you go and fall for it, into it, not the person but the idea of love, not realizing the fact. It doesn’t give you that chance for doubt because it’s so wonderful in there, your mind’s full of it that nothing else can come up, and you don’t reason anything. It isn’t that you are not capable, but the entire idea is so deceiving u don’t feel a need, no urge. Like an unrecognizable drug of a drug test but are so dependent on it, the undetectable virus but has corrupted your entire hard drive, a disease of unidentifiable symptoms and no cure. And everyone knows it, but still would fall in it for it is a wonderful mistake to do. Again and over again.
It is a city of stories. A small land piece over crowded with over 7 lakh people, stories aren’t hard to find. In fact they are everywhere. In a bus, listening to people talk about nation and politics; in road, people advising one another about life and stuff; and sometimes watching people gives a glimpse of their story of struggle and lines and cuts over their face is an inspiration enough. Sometimes there are issues i find a need to state, some opinion of my own that i need to express. Sometimes its about those incidents that i think needs a louder voice and a larger audience. some acts that needs to be emphasized and some that needs to be criticized. On a way this city is full of stories and everyone has a say, just that none has the patience to listen to anyone else.
So when i start it, it is going to be about what i see or get to see or comes before my eyes. About what i hear or unintentionally overhear sometimes. About what i experience and have to go through. About what i feel and how things strike my mind.