I pour my heart out all at once, like you will be gone the very next second, like you are gonna evaporate right now by all the heat from my heart. I am saying all those lines I want to surprise you with at our anniversaries, all now because I know you will not be able to stay that long. I am laughing like crazy even at the simplest thing(sometimes even at serious moments) cause I know there are only few times I will be able to share all our silly jokes and hear you laugh (you know how I love to get myself drowned in your lovely laughs :P)… I am showering you with all the glittery confetti made out of my shiny red heart now because when you will be gone… I will not need my heart at all!!!

Just about to get totally Vussssshh  when I hear “Nijaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” and I wake up lazily. I think about pretending not to hear my name then again think about the wrath of my angry mom and I force myself to stand up straight in my two feet, open my eyes and walk to the kitchen.(Ah! sorry I forgot to mention the time this thing happened, it was short after I had my dinner at around 8 and made my way to bed ). I don’t know why  this tithi and sahit thing is so freaking odd, kahiley dui din bhaitika huncha, kahiley duita festival ekai din ma parcha… most weird thing aja rati dekhi bholi bihana samma yomari punhi re, I was all WTH?

Mom n dd was already making the rice flour dough all wrapped up cozily with the cotton cloth, then there was bowl with chaku melted with a small plate with water and oil on side. You might have the idea what was next… it was like belako na bela baji ney la… rati rati yomari banauna thalya thyo. I was so pissed off that I had to wake up to make yomari.Then again I thought, aja rati nautheko bhaye bholi bihanai uthnu parthyo, the only difference was aja 8pm ma banayo bholi 8 am ma banaunu parthyo. This feeling of “hya” was annual, it happens every year yomari punhi ko bela, bihana bihana nindra compromise garnu parcha, yo year chai rati nai bho.

I pull a ball of  white dough , make opening  in it, fill it with chaku and then make a yomari out of it.I repeat this again and again, my eyes get so lazy but my hands still working. Drowsiness made me spill chaku and make a nasty mess, my yomari looked as if it had not taken bath for weeks. I tired to be careful and then again I was forcing myself to feel sleepy.So many things were running in my mind… I remembered mera priya sathi haru saying “get me some yomaris” ; I am sorry but its really tedious when sleep is in endangered because of it (you will have to be in my place to understand). Then I remembered making endless yomaris at Apex Cultural Day as we had a stall there. We had made so many yomaris despite the fact that only few were sold, trust me it was not because they were not good but there was a momo stall next to us. You know the momo and Nepali ko relation, momo ko soup runs in everyone’s vein.

I was waiting for the white dough to disappear every time I grabbed a piece of dough. It was after making “Don’t know how many” that the dough finally disappeared and also “Batti ayo”. And then mero nindra khulyo, I hurried down the stairs to my room in full consciousness and grabbed laptop , checked the battery, then made comfortable sitting. The next thing I did??? I blogged! 😛 …

Note: Ani yomari ni khana paye ailey raati …  khadai chu 😛 😛

Devdas.Sawariyaan.Ram-leela.
One name is common in these three movies, What could that be?It is a no brainer,right? You are so very correct.No doubt that your answer was Sanjay Leela Bhansali.Here,I am not critically rating any movie nor am I talking about the stories in particular; I am talking about the amazing imagination of the man of the dreamy magnificent sets. Well,you must be wondering why out of nowhere I am talking about Sanjay Leela Bhansali,( you may be thinking I ran out of baked hearts, sugar coated memories, fairy tale wishes and kisses to write about but I have not, I am full of those sorts of crap :P) .What happened was, after my last exam (which I originally was planning to flunk but I didn’t) I went to watch the movie “Ram-Leela” at Fcube (Fcube because it is really close to my exam centre,also I wanted to go there, guess what?when QFX is hiking up its ticket price, ticket price at Fcube is really kissable :P). Alright, let me not get carried away like always, I sit at the seat with popcorn ani get my eyes ready for the almost three hour movie.
Throughout the whole movie, I did not see what was really happening to the story of movie but my attention was all snatched by the amazingly artistic set in which the movie was shot. Leela’s room was like so freaking amazing, the pool in frontyard of her room had banyan tree growing in middle of the green pool with all those romantic shoots growing from all over and almost touching the face of that pool.(kasto nai ramro thiyo, you should see for yourself, I can’t correctly describe it… the image at the top is what i am trying to describe).Same with Devdas and Sawariyaan, you know how crazily beautiful the place was. Whenever you see Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s movie, you know it is the projection of his wild creative imagination. Ah! And the attires of the heroines, they are like super WOW! Movie herdai garda ni I was like … kati kharcha garyo hola yo euta geet shoot garna… Leela has wore 5-6 dresses till now, euta kai kati liyo hola…that Man must be the gold king Midas, to be able to spend so much.
Nevertheless, his work is just praise worthy and admirable. If you ask me to choose between a fairy land and Sanjay leela Bhansali’s movie set guess which one would I choose???

“Samanupatik” and “Pratakshya” – two words for the day. Before I get to the story hidden behind those two amazing words, I so want to share my first voting experience. Even before that let me talk about my picture in my voting ID card, only if I could, I would lock it in a box and bury it or if I could burn the ID and again burn ashes of it… that is how much I loathe the hideous printed picture of myself (even photoshop and instagram would fail to win the make-my-face-seeable mission, I look that much hideous). Enough about myself I guess, well! I was not sure if I would go and caste my vote, I logged into facebook and the newsfeed was flooded with you know what – everyones’ magnified thumb with purplish blue mark (like a manicure horribly gone wrong) and their updated status – voting for the first time #nepalvotes… I voted what about you… feeling wonderful voting… blah blah vote… vote blah blah… Yes! I should not be saying more, you must know all about it.

My mother is wiser or lazy , I don’t know which? You guys decide for yourself. She said “kaha ailey dekhi janey vote halna, deuso tira janey ho, line basnu pardaina.” So, me, mom and my sister left home for voting at around 2 pm, everyone were walking in groups, talking about today. Mobiles and cameras were restricted in the voting centre so, we handed our gadgets to dad and went to the centre. Damn the rules, I could have got a picture of myself voting. I entered the gate and guess what? I felt like walking down the red carpet (ignore the fact there was no red carpet, well in fact no carpet at all) … every pair of eyes were examining us, as we were the only voters there… hehe(thank mom) we did not have to stay at line but were confused kata janey, if we were early atleast we could have followed others like sheep 😛 . Well, the guard said which line we were to go… Mom lai “ga” and dd ra malai “kha” line ma jau bhanyo. I searched where that stupid Kha was, but the stupid glue had come out and the letter was hidden with almost khasna lako paper written Kha. Then I took out my stupid hideous ID card and showed it to the volunteerS (big S as there were many men checking on the same thing two times thrice.) Well, you all know how this all goes, sab jana vote halera nai ako hola.

Then one of the volunteer says “dd bahini ako raicha ta… mukh ustai raicha dubai jana ko”. (Thank you Mr.Idontknowyou who thinks we look alike which we don’t. I guess the volunteers were bit bored resting their bottom at the same bench since whole day at same spot. They were making small conversation. It was not their fault to get me wrong as the elder one because I look giant than my sister. I was so freaking nervous already and they talking was not helping me. I took the big blue paper and went through all the signs, and then I was like “I was to vote samanupatik ma and pratakshya, which one is this?” the feeling was just like exam bela ko, having two confusing sure answers for same question. Then I hit the stamp in one sign (I am not telling which :P) … then it was Niki’s turn to, she shouts from the booth – “ oi yo kun chainey ho?” I had no freaking idea to answer. It was like blind leading a blind. Then I took the pink paper with so many signs, this time I knew it was samanupatik wala turn but I forgot what it meant. So, I thought for a while and hit the stamp to the same sign.

After we came out of the voting centre, I asked mom and Niki what they did. And guess what, they turned out to be just as much stupid as I was. Atleast mom should have idea about the word “samanupatik” and “pratakshya” as this was not her first time voting but she was still confused. Bato bhari we kept on discussing the right definition for the words. I wonder how many of us really are aware about correct voting process and more importantly whom to vote as we hardly know our candidates. We know more celebreties of other countries than the people responsible for our country, I don’t blame others but myself for being ignorant about this. I felt bad that I was so careless for not doing simple research about the voting process. I felt like a Nepali citizen for the first time when I held that pen like stamp with swastika sign, I for a second felt that feeling of responsibility. I swear to myself I will be responsible about my rights from now on. That stamped vote was not as easy to drop like any other paper in the dustbin… it felt precious!

While you are walking alone, you can entertain yourself by playing a game- a guessing game that will be; you can guess which brand of wrappers or simply plain plastic bags you will encounter on your next step. Trust me it is quite fun and you won’t know how soon you reached your home but be careful and stay alert about the vehicles as well. Well, this is what I did today on my way back to home- Kwiks cheesball , Surya churoth, Waiwai, Chatpatey-ko-papercone, kalo rang ko polythene ko chyatiyeko jhola, rato rang ko nachyatiyeko jhola, top biscuit ko wrapper and what not. Actually, the whole road was like big lengthy hoarding boards advertising all these brands.

Just to remind you, all I did was glance at those colourful plastic wrappers and just glance, nothing more; I didn’t dare ( care won’t be appropriate word here, cause I cared) to pick up those “fohar” and dispose it in dustbin. Even if I dared, there were no dustbins nearby, and I guess I am still sane enough to not make fool of myself carrying those garbage to my home. I am not trying to say anything to anyone cause we all are same. The interesting thing was when I reached my home, afnai ghar agadhi plastic paper haru fyalirako thiyo and I stepped in that fohar and entered home, smiling to myself.

Mangalbazar! The best hangout place ever (I bet everyone agrees on this statement). You and I , infact everyone of us enjoy the magical sips of tato tato chiya from the “plastic” cup and merge into endless guffgaff. The only thing that bothers me are the stupid people who are so darn stupid to leave the cups and not care to throw it in the dustbin. So, I humbly request  all to be a bit responsible about the place you adore so much.

Bagmati fohar bhayera, kehi garna naskaney awastha ma pugey jastai let us not drive Mangalbajar also in same state.It is just a matter of time, pahila kosley socheko thiyo ra Bagmati ko testo durgati huncha bhanera. It all starts with a small piece of wrapper you recklessly throw, that extra minute of shower you take, that extra minutes of electricity you waste while charging your electric gadget pals.

Everyone of us are aware about every single line people keep on preaching about environmental conservation. We are Mr/Ms. Know all! School bela we memorized every points on that topic, we passed that subject with high marks but why we no change our attitude??? Why we so STUPID ???

Not necessary that you go on picking on arko mancheko fohar but atleast make sure you don’t litter around.The best advice! Even if you don’t have this good habit, atleast make sure your young bhai bahini learns about this. Cause if they are taught about this, trust me the roads will be clean in next few years. You yourself think why would that be.

I grew up reading lines in my book, “baatabaran safa rakhnu parcha, jathabhabi fohar garnu hudaina” but never did anyone make me clean the surrounding , let alone punish me for littering around. If only I had developed that habit from young age, I bet I wouldnot have hesitated to pick the fohar lying on the ground…

P.S. If you catch any of your friend picking up wrappers on ground, please don’t tease them and demotivate them.!!!

I have so many stories jammed up in my head like the wooden cork stuck to neck of wine bottle, waiting to be pulled out and let the crystal sparkling wine fall graciously to bottom of that shining glass. I am sure, I will feel the same feeling of that bottled wine opened, not worrying about being broken  anymore; once those stories are told, I will have nothing to hide, every words unspoken will be said and heard.

Mmm… just like the sweet strong aroma that gently hits your nostrils when you first drive off that jammed cork out of the bottle, ditto! the warm memories grab my heart just at the centre when I run down the memory lane to collect those stories of my past.(Well, some not only grab but even tries crushing it ).I remember myself trying to taste only the sweetness of the wine and not think about the bitterness that comes along; because I love wine, I embrace how it really tastes,be it bitter or sweet. I guess that is why I remember all the tragic minutes just as much I memorize every beautiful seconds of my stories; afterall they are all fractions of my whole story and makes it all complete.In those stories, I see my whole life sparkling  just like that wine in tall clear glass with shiny edges!

Hi, I am Nija Maharjan and I am a selfie-addict. Moreover, you can replace “am” with “was” as I am hell better now. Previously, I suffered with this addiction of clicking one’s own picture; at the beginning the effort was too much – I had to use the camera phone, bend my hands in every direction to get the perfect shot and only after many shots, there would be one good picture, no matter what the end result had to be “profile picture” ready. Back then, the term “selfie” was still not introduced, people used the phrases like “self obsessed”, “kaam napako”, “pagal kt” and what not. Now, the front cameras in your mobile phones have brought revolution in this “selfie world”, taking pictures now is a piece of cake.

It is really easy to identify the selfie fanatics; all you have to do is check their profile pictures, that album will be flooded with faces taken from different angles with almost same expression. I know this is sad but only few were able to stay safe from this addiction. To make it worse, instagram came into the scene; and hence making selfies viral. I don’t know facebook’s cover photo helped selfies or is causing much trouble; how it has helped? Well, if you are really confused which photo to upload among two best shots, you can make one profile pic and the other cover photo. Trouble how? Well, you cannot keep similar pictures as profile and cover photo; it has to be different. Hence, the trouble of going through all the tedious process of another great selfie when previously(before cover photo), one picture would have worked well.