Starting Again…

I have been longing to write for so long, waiting for something to inspire me (oh wait. there have actually been so many things in my life since the last time I wrote and those are in fact inspiration bombs).

May be I am waiting to find the perfect line to start and I know there is never always first perfect line, people always go back to amend it (but I am too lazy here to change it :P)

Cheers to starting again…continuing where I left… remembering and reliving the moments again… the first day of being an ART student (yay!!!), and yes the getting married with my editor 🙂 (more yay!!!s)

Let it all out

I haven’t been able to write for quite sometime now; its not that I do not have anything to write about but in fact there is so much going in my head and my life I could write an autobiography. After all those months of not writing I finally got my inspiration from a recent event I (moreover my body) went through. You might be either disgusted or find it funny.

For all people who have watched the movie “Piku” must have known by now what the following sentences will include. No its not Dipika Padukone or Amitabh Bacchan if your guesses were that. Congratulations if the word “CONSTIPATION” popped (not pooped) into your head.

I recently suffered for two days with pain in my left abdomen not knowing what was causing the pain. Like any intellectual human being I googled my symptoms and diagnosed myself. It said you are to consult the doctor if the pain persists till two days and if pain worsens. I had diagnosed myself with Gastric (or say gastritis) or kidney stone in the worst scenario.

So I waited until the end of Day 2 when I could not bear it anymore and went to see a doctor. I paid Rs.475 as doctor’s fee and I got assured he was experienced as the fee was of that bracket. After waiting in line and cursing the patients who took 15 minutes each with the doctor I got my turn. The doctor asked me few questions and while he was doing so he did not inquire if I had gastric so the non-doctor me suggested that the pain might have been because of gastric. He simply said “No. Its not caused due to gastric”

After knocking around the abdomen and my back as if I was a door, he asked me “When was the last time you defecated?”

“I do not remember.” –I answered. (who keeps record of it anyway?)

He scribbled a medicine in the page of my new patient book.It was intersting how he was jotting down everything like a gyani student was taking notes in a class. He told me the medicine would help me in the process and that you push it through the butthole and it would melt.

I got the prescribed medicine (somehow I feel like medicines are something you eat which in this case is not to be eaten). I opened the package and the thing inside looked nothing like a tablet as the doctor told me it would be. I looked into YouTube on using the thing, I was so mad at the pharmacist and the doctor as I was clueless.

Less than five minutes after using it I blessed whoever invented that thing. Even though I was only half relieved from the pain in my abdomen I was happy it was working. It was then I realised how important pooping was for us to remain healthy. I did more researches on enema and constipation. (I suggest you do too.)

I now consciously include daahi and green vegetables in my diet. Also turns out fermented food also helps in our digestive system. The most important thing is to exercise which I am currently struggling to do but I am getting there slowly in a snail’s pace.

I felt better after letting all out from my system; all those garbage clogged into my intestine bothering my health. That is when I thought may be my mind is not able to focus cause everything is jammed into my head suffocating my brain. I had forgotten my blog space was my enema. So, here I am letting the jammed thoughts flow out of my head, wanting to feel better.

 

(P.S. People need to talk about these kind of problems with at least their friends and family.)

 

 

 

Bhasa and Lipi

It starts with-

“timi newari bujhchau?”

“Ahn:”

“timi lai majjale newari bolna auwcha?”

“Ahn: aucha.”

“Ani newari ma lekhna ni?”

“bolna aucha tara newari akshyar bujhna garo huncha.”

I have spent all my life telling people I do not know how to read the nepal lipi. I never gave much thought about why I did not know it; all I knew was I did not recognize that beautiful black strokes of line drawn together to mean something. That was the first language I heard and understood. That was the first language I spoke.

But that was not the first letter I was taught. Ka, Kha, Ga, A, B, Cs were what I scribbled in my copy when I was a kid.

I never needed to learn the Nepal lipi. I barely saw those beautiful letters. Even if I saw them, I only had to see them and not understand because right below them would be a translation.

It is not that I did not try wanting to learn about my language more but I guess people around me were either ignorant or did not themselves know the writings.

“timro boli ma “tta ta ra ma ma” audaina rahecha.”

I would be proud then and smile. How much insecure was I that I had to be proud and relieved that I did not acquire the accent of my ancestors. No offense but also I remember few of my friends testing me with the tongue twisters.

My late grandfather was always disappointed with me because I did not speak proper newari. I would have Nepali and English fused in my conversations. My uncle would always point out to others how funny I sounded; more like how non-newar I sounded and how they could hear my discomfort more than the words I was speaking. I never was concerned over the fact that as my Nepali and English got better, my mother tongue started getting rusty.

I believed my brain did its thinking thing in English (not even in Nepali). I even corrupted my brain to think that it was thinking in English. I let the air of modernizations get into my head I guess.

I guess its never too late. I am trying to learn the beautiful art of Nepal lipi now. It is difficult but it is the most beautiful thing. I feel more close to my heredity through these black letters. I struggle reading them, I become that five-year-old kid trying to read a word. The whole process feels like decoding an encrypt. It is real exciting learning how to read the language that I have been speaking all my life. The monograms are more complicated but they are no less than a striking piece of art.

I never much liked structures but the letters have amazing constructions made out of ink strokes from special 35 degree inclined flat nib. Though learning the lipi requires lot of patience and practice which I kind of struggle having but I now have the passion and desire of recognising the beautiful lipi by my heart.

 

Perfect imperfect

How imperfect I was and how trying to be perfect did me no good.

I still remember the pictures that I drew as I was growing up. They were nothing but imperfect. They had smudges of paints, some amended but most of them not. I didn’t care about it but only thing that mattered was that I was happy in my heart. I would run to my dad and  would show him the drawings that I had made. He always smiled that smile. He would hold it in his hand and put it far away and examine; never did he complain. “Baa:lah baa:lah” – he said.

I had picked charcoal sticks for my still life when I was may be 13 or 14, I don’t think I was good with even pencils. I knew the proportions of the shape of my subjects were right (they were blown out of proportions I guess). It didn’t make sense nor I cared where the light source was and where it fell on the object. I went with my instinct of where should I erase the blackness so as to give more realistic touch to the still life. I still remember me making still life arts like I was some awesome artist. I still remember few; there was one time where I went to roof of my aunt’s house and drew the temple standing in the courtyard, I still remember the moment when I was adding the brick tiles on the roof of the temple.Just seeing black smudges on my fingers and palms would make me feel so artisty.

I made what made me happy. I wrote about little things that mattered to me, drew things that mattered, painted colors my brushes picked. Now that I think of, I am quite not sure what made people happy- Was it my paintings and drawings that made people happy or my excitement?

So if you are wondering where all this jibberness is coming from. I just watched a TED talk and it just changed my whole life I guess(Revolution in my life you can say). It was about how the fact that we want to be perfect hinders what we want to do. For me, I like to write and paint. I used to write but I stopped it. I thought I got the writer’s block (myan, this sounds fancy I know but I wanted to use it for so long). I always hesitate to paint. I feel like I need to give people awesome piece to read or an amazing beautiful picture to see. I forget always to remember about me. The joy I feel deep in my heart like a serene calm sea with little waves slapping the shore. (Not making up but I really feel butterflies in my heart when I am painting or writing, actually I am having them right now as well while I write, with my heart beating to the groovy beats I am listening to.)

My friends and people I know through only face book enjoys what I paint and write (not boasting). They don’t judge me but its sad that I am the greatest judge of me. I don’t write often and I don’t paint much. I say “small things are big things” but did I really have faith in it? NO!!!

Guess What? I am gonna write more now and paint more. More, I am firing the judge in me. So… I hope I will write more and paint moreeeee and have all the fun my heart deserves.

 

Type and backspace

I thought my mind made my fingers dance around the keyboards

Hoping from this key to that key

But “NO”

The fingers danced much faster than my mind thought of the moves

 

Left hand fingers and right hand fingers not crossing their boundary

Waiting for their turns

Like players in double badminton

Knowing the rhythm

Straightaway understanding  their turns

 

With no awkward pauses

Or awkward clash

Like a new shy couple reaching out for that sugar

At same time

In a coffee date

 

The keys in the keyboard being swiftly pressed

The screen exhibiting proudly the words

Almost turning into a sentence

But … NO!

THE finger rests on the backspace

Until the blinker eats all the words

Easily … silently…swiftly

It must not know I guess

After so long she sat down

To write

Got up all the courage to

Just write.

Endless and restless Soch haru

I bet each of you has felt that feeling… pocket bata earphone jhikda tyo taar haru aljhida ko anubhav, tyo bhanda ni badi pohor saal ko tihar sakera jhilmili batti haru dallo parera alchi gari pack garey pachi yo barsa fukauna khojda ko tyo irritation… Hoooo! Ti taar haru bhanda badi tangled cha mero mastiska ahile. Social media ko sanjhal lai maat dina matra baki cha mero mastiska ko sanjhal le. eh sachi balla yaad ayo malai … the best example mero mental state depict garney would be tyo bato ko cheu tira batti ko pole ma chittika parera milayera beriyeko kaalo taar (F.Y.I that was a sattire 😛 donot get confused! )

Tripureshwor ma sadhai hune tyo jam ta k jam mero dimag ma hune soch haru ko jam bhanda. Kamsey kam tyo jam sajha ta ali khukulo huncha, sanibar ko din ta bato khula huncha tara afasos mera soch haru din raat bhandainan kunai din pani sustauna mandainan… rajdhani ma gadhi ko sankhya sangai sangai dinahu jasto mero dimag ma soch haru badhdai gairaheka chan.

Ajkal mera sabda ra shor haru praya jaso dimag bata nai produce ra induce hunchan mutu bata kaam nai furinchan. Tesai le hola ajkal romantic blog lekhnai sakinna khali naa naa bhati ka soch haru matra dimag ma khelirahanchan.

Thaha chaina uttar ko khoji ma cha ki thap prasna haru batulna khojdai cha mera soch harule. kahile kahi matra haina sadhai jaso lagcha khali time pass ko lagi matra mero dimag le malai sochna laudai cha. “K pauchas eh dimag taile eti dherai sochera?” bhanera sodhna ta man lagcha ni malai pani tara jawaf ko lagi afnai mastiska ma feri load thapney kaam matra garido rahecha.

 

 

Girl with the ugly boots

Finally, today I decided to get my new boots out of the closet and take them for a walk. After many days of hesitation, I thought it was time. So, out they went- my new shiny pair of amber rose boots (let me mention they are a size bigger for my big feet, I can invite two fingers more in my boot ).

I wished no one would notice my shiny boots but wishing this was no good. (It was more like shouting out loud and hoping no one would hear you: P). My friends teased my boots, added “the ugly” in front of its name. I felt bad for my boots but not for myself. It was not fair to the boots, only if it was a size smaller or if it belonged to someone else’s feet or if it was another color or of different shape. Suddenly, I decided I would love those boots, own them from my heart. I actually stared at the boots and assured I would adore it no matter what. While my eyes were in the boots, I thought about all the shoes in the stores that I would compare, try, eliminate, judge, comment.

I know all this sounds crazy but I got confident in those boots when I heard “girl with the ugly boots.” It felt like I had to stand for my boots and not just stand in them.

Gahugori

Ma ghar bata bahira niskinu aghadi aina herchu . fairness cream ko ek patalo layer ra tesmathi chariyeko powder le mero gahugoro (ali badi gahu ra kam goro) anuhar lai ramrai sabai tira dhakeko cha ki chaina bhanera ainama dui tin choti herchu. Gori ta dekhinu cha tara saro gori bhaney chahi hoina (natra ta thalma maida halera mukh dubayeko jhai dekhinu cha; ho! Film ma dekhnu bhako hola esto scene). Ma ghar bata niskada ekdam nirdhaka bhayera hidchu; tara din jati jati bitdai gayo charko gham ma bachhako haat ma hune icecream  pagliyera sinka matra baki bhaye saraha mero anuhar ko cream pagliyera jancha.pagliyera pani nabhayera chyapchyap tel roopi magnet bani sabai dhulo dhuwa anuhar ma tasi ajha ma badi gahu rang ko dekhinchu.

Gahugori ma gahu badi huna thalepachi mero atmabiswas testai gai ghatna thalcha, ma kewal yehi sochchu mero aghadi ko manchey le mero anuhar herdai cha. Bato ma hiddai garda side ma bhayeka pasal haru ka sisa ma tauko farkai afu kasto dekhiye chu bhanera herchu. Bhaitra man bata lhaaa bhaney awaz ra mero bahiri kaan le sudha suncha.

 You must be comfortable in your own skin bhanchan. But I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Tara kina? Dosh kasko ?afu jasto cha testo roop ma swikarna nasakne mero galti? Ki chitika pareko goro chala bhayeko mero sathiko? Ki bachhai dekhi kali kali bhani maya gari bolaune ti shor haru ko?(maya  thiyo tyo shor ma tara badi gaada bhayecha kya ra manasthiti ma kali bhayeko yaad kahilei najane daag jasari basidiyo)

TV ma jahile ni fair and lovely ko bigyapan auda kina ho kina gahiriyera herthye ma teskai effect hola sayad maile kakshya daas ma yo try garey.malai ajjha yaad cha mero sathi le malai “taa gori dekhya chas aja ta” bhanera comment gareko. Tyo paal ma danga pareko thiye, yehi nai tyo shyan thiyo hola ma afno anuhar ma gahu bhanda badi gori huna sakchu bhanera utsahit bhayeko.

Dherai barsa bhayo maile cream powder lagayeko, kati shade ta gori pani bhaye ,tara ma bhitra ko tyo insecurity ajhai hatna sakeko chaina. Malai yaad cha dherai le “you have such a nice skin. I wish I had your complexion” bhaneko tara yesko pratikriya sworup ma muskurauchu matra. Malai thaha chaina how I should feel bhanera.

Tara euta kura malai achhama lagcha. I have few other gahugoro sathi haru ani I feel they have nice skintone. Thahacha! the grass looks greener on other side bhanera tara yesto soch kasari ma ma hurkiyo? Kahile kahi sochchu hurkiyo nai kina?

“tapai ko lagi ho bhaney chai yo suhaucha” pasal ko saujhi le uha ko wise opinion saman kinnu bhanda aghadi nai sitai ma dinnu hunthyo. Baru sitai ma aune opinion ko satta discount dinu bhayeko bhaye ma sayad khusi hunthye hola. Sayad ma badi gori badi ra gahu kaam bhayeko bhaye uha ko dialogue nai arkai hunthyo. May be “tapai lai ta j pani suhaucha” bhanuhunthyo hola.

Ah! Photo lina malai ekdamai manlagdaina thyo. Camera Shy bhayera chahi pakai hoina, mero gahu anuhar aru goro anuhar bich stand out hunthyo jun kura malai ali man pardaina thyo. Jhan malai daar k ko hunthyo bhane camera man ko lahi lahi ma lagera “Cheeeese” bhani gija dekhine gari hasda mero gahu anuhar ma mera seta (not just gora) daat haru tilllliliiii talkinthye. Lagthyo nahasda goro sanga matra compare hunthyo mero gahu,  aba seto sanga compare bhairaheko cha.

Kati lai lagla yeti saro complexities hunu thik hoina. Huna ta mero man lai pani thiyena, yesto saro kamjor mahasus garna mero dimag lai pani thiyena. Chahada nachahadi, bujhda nabujhdai pani gahugori ma gahu ko rang ali badi nai mahasus hudo rahecha, afno nango anuhar aruko majha lyauna nasakda kata kata afno aatma le khokro maan lai gaali gari  rahado rahecha.

 

all about me… and may be a bit about you.

“Arghhhh… ”

“What???”

“Why won’t you say anything?”

“Say What?”

“…that my eyes look pretty today.”

“they always do.”

“Nooooo… they don’t”

“Okay.they don’t.”

“What???You didn’t even notice. I had mascara on my eye; they look pretty.”

“I noticed that the moment i saw you today.”

“…then why didn’t you just say it.”

“you know i don’t know how to complement.”

“Arghhh…..”

“What now?”

“You still haven’t said anything”

…to be continued

Randomness

I need to write. It’s essential that I write today; right now. It has been ages since I last wrote. I have so much to tell; so much. So much my eyes have seen, my ears have heard and my mind has thought of. I should have written when my two years of fellowship had ended, how the pipe in my throat got that weird feeling every time I realized those were my last days in the village. The wonderful didis of village made amazing food for me, I had last supper with each of them for a month. Khir, masu bhat, khir, masu bhat, machha, khir, khir, sinki, dhido, achhar and… ah ya! Pidaloos, koiral ko achar, chamrey, lukmau. Didi haru le garnu bhayeko maya must be the reason I didn’t want to come back to Kathmandu even on the holidays. The last day I hopped houses to say goodbye; I could see sadness in their eyes and knew they would cry right then and guess what I did? “Ah, runa lagnu bhako? narunu hou narunu” and then they would smile. (I remember them every day but don’t know why I can’t call them and say hi).

That last night, I walked the bato I used to walk everyday on the way to school. It was a dark night but I could see everything around me like it was in daylight. My heart was restless, my eyes were blurry, my soul was dancing, my lips were smiling, my mind crying. If I could, I would pick every footsteps that I walked in that bato for two years and store it in a glass jar. Maybe they could remind me of my thoughts when I took that step. May be the bato has collected the prints of my footstep and stored it deep in the heart of earth, maybe it will give me my memories back when I walk on them again. Ah! Let me tell you about the farewell we had in school. Rohini dai (SMC president) proudly said “uha haru Giranchaur ma najanmiye pani hami le bhanda badi giranchaur lai maya garnu huncha. Uha haru giranchaur kai santan hunn.” Out of everyone I knew head-sir was the saddest to send us away. The love he has bestowed on us, is unmeasurable. He is the cutest. (and I really mean it) ah! And you should see our “prasansa patra” it’s amazing. My face has literal golden glow. I was so excited to get dosalla (how cool is that?)

Well, I am switching to something else now. Just to go with the flow let me write about my after fellowship plan. So, you know how I started painting the walls of my school and I got so addicted to it that I couldn’t stop it. I thought why not do it in some more schools. I’ll tell you my dream – I want to see beautiful colors in every school. I want the little kids to reflect those pretty colors in their heart and smile. I want to create a colorful world for every student. I am so addicted to this dream of mine that all my senses are so alert when I see any object; my eyes and my mind get started with observing and scanning the hues and shades. I google and pinterest like a crazy woman, saving every image that fascinates me. Fingers crossed! Wish me luck.

Mmm. So, what do I write now? I am working on a painting right now and trust me this must be the first thing I have put so much effort into. I am so eager to post it but waiting for it to get completed. It is nice but looks kinda weird to me. (you figure out yourself what has gone wrong, I am not telling you). And I am into water color these days. Guess what I am realizing? Youtube and Google are my gurus these days.

I am sorry I am being a frog, jumping from here to there and back again here. I feel so bad I don’t write anymore. I used to write about everything and everyone but I don’t anymore. I am confused – is it I can’t or I don’t. If it was the old me, I would have written about “Hamlet” ,third play I watched. I am confused about that as well, did I like it or not. I was wondering how could the actors not be tired and bored to be repeating the same act for so many numbers of time (I guess they staged the play for more than 2 weeks, two times per day). If it was for the old me, I would definitely write about the new mall (Lalitpur bishal bajar mall). It is amazing and wayyyyyyy fancier than any mall in Kathmandu. Trust me I would never leave a chance to boast about it being in Patan. If it was for the old me, I would definitely write about my pretty grey leather bag that I carry every day. How some people find it fancy and the others funny. If it was for the old me, I would shout it out loud about how my new hair color is bugging me so much. It looks “B_A_D”. (you know what Sujin would say now? – Don’t you know how to pronounce?). I am so happy to be posting this in my blog after so long.