Monthly Archives: February 2015


The bones in my body must have all melted up that I am being so lazy to even stand up or even sit straight without surrendering my whole weight to any support. I don’t know how I am even finding any energy to get my laptop from the room and begin typing and mostly do the thinking (even though thinking comes to me so naturally…it comes to me even in my sleep :P) .

Actually, I thought I needed some fresh air (must be wondering needing fresh air gaun ma ni) so I came out of my hiding and resting den. I sat on the chair and then stayed; just stayed quietly. Then I hear and see something and then something hits my mind. I hear a noisy but quiet soothing sound that was being produced. I look up and then I see strong stiff green leaves move like a tail of rattling snake making that tshook tshook tshook tshook… sound. Now that they stopped, I hear the river downhill, chattering and quarrelling with rocks, stones, own current and may be fishes. At distance I hear birds and insects make those noises with different frequencies.

But what lays in front my eyes disappoints me a bit. The green hill has pretty much dried up with just little bit of greenness just for the sake of it. Most of the earth tiers are left to rest, not touched by the farmers until another season. Contrasting this, the fields surrounding the river are back to their business… warming up for the plantation, some all happy and yellow, some green with barley and some hiding the potatoes inside them. Well, all the trees seem to be dusty (may be its because of the light mist coming along with the darkness). Its sad that I cant see those bright bridal red simal trees and some orange creamy simal trees from here.

It’s been almost a year I have been staying at this place. It was hot summer day I was here. I got some hailstones with rain, I scared myself to death with the monstrous lightning, I breathe the most delicious cool wind in hot summer evenings, I walked through the thickest morning fogs I had ever seen, I am living the confused autumn weather these days.

I practically understood the season of here. 🙂

The Miner

There is no day that I question my being here; by “here” I refer the village where I work, the word “teach” would be more appropriate cause I don’t refer what I am doing as work or any job whatsoever. I applied,I gave series of interviews,I got selected, I spent six weeks in learning institute (again that was not a training centre) and then I was placed here in Giranchaur gabisa(now its nagarpalika)in melamchi.I started this chapter of my life with a bitter note, complaining,regretting over my decision, worrying, crying,thinking way too much.

The first fact that consoled my scared heart and terrorized mind was the simple realization that I could always come back home.I didn’t have to be trapped there for eternity; there would always be “ama hyolmo” or “helambu” to carry me back to ktm nomatter if I had to stand all the way or get so little space to even stand and the smell(well, the smell doesn’t even bother me anymore).

My students have been counting the number of Saturdays I spent here in village (the numbers fit right in your one hand I suppose). My dears even have a pet name for me, “jani, jailey ni ktm janey”(btw nija ko ulto is jani). They would be surprised if I am not seen with my big black bag on Fridays and red jacket on.

I signed in to this with a plan, a hope, a dream that I would make a difference.I believed in me, more I believed in my soul that trusted what I was about to do would bring peace to me but that rarely happened to me after I came here. My sweet scented dreams that guided me turned into sour and dark nightmares that haunted me and crushed my heart.

Now that I think of, all these months I have been teaching in school, nothing much has really happened; then there are some moments, few minutes of time that I have experienced pure joy that I would have never seen if I was not here doing what I do. What I am doing is much similar to a miner digging mines endlessly just to come across finding his treasure in rare occasions. Yes, I am pretty much like the digger, I stand between the blackboard and my students every day, I teach, I shout at top of my lungs, I hurt my throat ,I cover my jacket with white fine layer of chalk powder, I stand and stare at the busy talkers hoping they see I got their attention, I narrow my eyebrows-disappointed.(Well, the digger obviously does none of the above mentioned acts but you know what I am trying to tell here).I do all these every single day just for the greed of that pure joy.

If I am lucky I get that joy the next day as well but sometimes it takes week and sometimes even months to get that lucky. He calls me every two minutes to make sure he is going on right getting his numeric problem’s answer right, he shows up in class regularly for three days after missing four classes in a row, she says “I didn’t cheat this time, just want to see how much I can do on my own”, six girls and a boy of grade nine show up in grade seven class as a mentor and teach, two out of those seven is still stubborn and hoping these juniors learn to find “chetrafal and ayatan”, he comes in proper school pants after months of nagging, she says she wants to study more and discusses future, she says “you must be tired of teaching all time, you should rest.”, they murmur “chitra banauna khatra hunuhuncha” when I turn my back to draw figures in board, he calls “nija miss”,their eyes show that it matters me being there, they love me and more they trust me. These are my fragments of tiny gold, my treasure.

I don’t know if I will be able to feel this feeling of being here later in my life but I am sure I will never come across any feeling as strong as of here even though I am keeping the number of months left, desperately wanting to be in city all days of weeks for whole year.

I see myself in one of the girls in grade nine. She is similar to me in so many ways. I want to see her chasing after her dreams and be there to witness her conquering it. Not just she but I want that for every other student of mine. I know they are no less than any other person and deserve so much more. I am sure even after I leave from here; I will always remember every face, worrying about them.


Dear J,

I watch the leaves of the tree standing by the roadside everyday I go to school; I see them change the hue of themselves- light fresh green to orangish yellow to “that” shade of red.(Ofcourse you haven’t seen that beauty, in your words “gaun ma basney le matra bujcha yo kura, ktm ma basney le bujhdaina” ). As I sat with my laptop to write something for you , this thing just clicked my mind and I believe this will make perfect sense as this is something my fresh early morning mind came up with and not the tired worn out evening mind messed up with all the worthless thinking. Okay! So, as I was telling you about the autumn leaves changing their colours, you might get the idea of where I am going with this.

We started out as familiar known strangers, we’ve seen each other every year (may be everyday as well ) since I was grade one and you in grade two. We came across each other’s way while I was playing around mero mamaghar tira and you returning or walking with your sister towards tuition centre (NERDDD!!! Actually oversmart would be appropriate for your kind who needs not tuition but wants it Hehehe…).Then we became friends (that would be the fresh light green) after almost fifteeeeeeeeen years .After that we became that-friends-hangingout-together-all-the-time but not dating (orangish yellow). We stayed in that colour for pretty long time.Then finally, “that” shade of RED!!!;the shade that makes me so beautiful and perfect. The RED that I need to adore all the time, all the seconds, ever day and every occasion.The RED that is the color of my warm heart that you fell in love with.

Ever yours,