A letter to my Father

A letter to my Father
Note(for English native speakers): Buwa means father in Nepali. The following is letter that I actually want to write to my late father but I don’t know where he is currently so thought of posting it in the internet with the hope that he might receive it at the other end.

Dear Buwa,

I hope you are fine. As per what I have seen of you during my dreams you seem to look much more fitter, younger and healthier to say the least. I guess you are having a nice time free of all the chronic sickness that you battled throughout your lifetime. Your other worry, ahhhh…. me I guess, don’t be bothered Buwa I am doing good. You need not worry about mother as well, as usual you know she’s all in command marshaling her limited resources as ever and just more efficiently than before.

But I do have small complaint Buwa, she still finds every possible chance to scold your chora(son). But Buwa now a days I just love to hear her get agitated as you know when, hahahaha… we both share a common problem its almost genetic to me, misplacing stuffs and littering food stuffs in guest room. May be just a sign that your small chora has matured unlike that small fellow’s instinctive nature of being upset, but to tell you frankly some it still remains and over that my poker faced nature reveals it all something that my friends at the office have been quite used to.

As I write to you probably for the third time in my life, if you forgotten the earlier two let me remind you. The first two were written way back in school hostel when we were made to write to our parents, remember? Never mind Buwa but its just hard to believe that the last time I saw you in person was some nine years back. God! you should have been there to see me now. Your small son now a days heads for office rather than school. But interestingly he carries with him some corporate bag that you were presented in some conference. Hey by the way I forgot to tell you about my work, currently I work for some development agency and a radio as well. About the radio thing, I just miss you as my primary listener Buwa. I wonder how excited would you have been when I first went on air last December. I bet you would have been one proud father. But anyways I hope you must have tuned in some time or the other. Unfortunately I don’t know where you are otherwise I would have told you the frequency.

Nine years Buwa nine long years. Just imagine the amount of things that I have left to say. I certainly hope you remember that I did not miss out telling you about anything from my studies, games, friends and most importantly the school level competitions that I participated and won. I cannot forget the excitement in your eyes while I shared with you about my achievements, they lit up like the stars. Probably the last things that I shared with was about winning an speech competition in Grade 11, you remember I guess, you were in the hospital. It was also the last day that we really had a conversation following that day you were unable to speak. I totally understand Buwa you were really sick.

My plus two results weren’t that great but in my bachelor’s I did well. I was up in the stage receiving certificate from the Prime Minister can you imagine that? I really missed you that day Buwa, sometimes happy news requires a grateful receiver to make it worthwhile. You know…. mother is always subdued she does not show much emotions. Post bachelor’s its been really busy and I don’t know how much I would have been able to chat with you as I return home from office. I guess you remember we talking about everything from politics to sports and films. Your political predictions were immaculate I miss them too.

You know Buwa you just left too early that I just missed out on the teenage part. The self acquired maturity and responsibility is sometimes just suffocating. Even when you were there you gave me every opportunity to make my own little decisions. I sometimes wonder if you were knowledgeable of your early exit that you prepared me to make my own decisions. But Buwa sometimes its hard to father yourself , its almost scary to go ahead with a decision for you aren’t there for a second opinion. But you know Bua your jackets and coat did provide me with the cozy protection from cold as well as from my insecurities. I enjoy putting them on, they are all I have of you to make me feel your presence around me. By the way this winter I tried your coat as well the one one you had bought for function, remember? That grey one. It really fits me well though they are shorter towards the hands but I don’t mind, I guess style statement.

By the way Buwa with the letter I have also attached a painting, you always encouraged my paint work. The painting depicts your importance in my life my tiny feet are supported in your secure hands. The hands were no doubt my foundation. Though the foundation has been shaken and my deep seated insecurities exposed, sometimes it make me want to cry feel insecure and weak. But I am trying to rebuild Buwa and I am trying to make things happen. But the confusion is evident like when I do something I don’t know if I am correct or not, I don’t know if I am right for I don’t have you guide me and relieve me of my insecurities. But I am learning Buwa I have fallen several times and learned to rise. I know I will have some more falls but I assure you a rise is eminent.

Buwa I don’t know when I shall see you next. I know your blessing are with me. Sometimes within my busy scheduled it almost feels that I have forgotten you and the guilt within is unfathomable. But I hope you have a great time. The next time we meet please prepared I have lot questions to throw at you.

Your Chora


I felt the drizzle in my arms

I felt the drizzle in my arms

Drenched in the evening like the morning calm

Out through the window are my eyes headed

Bloom the umbrellas like the spring calm.


The burning of the liquid and the moistening of the biscuit

The warmth consoles my wandering thoughts

The smell of the earth is all I owe

The freshness controls my bewildering thoughts.


Droplet after droplet is my mind faded

Freed of all the harm and enmity

I turn into a sage all of sudden

Freed of all chains of bound in vicinity.


I feel the need to go out and sing

Feel the water like a child at play

The mugs and the paper boats all out at day

Some where the deep seated fears are out to lay.


Washed with the drizzle are all the self, me and my

Exchanged with the rain are bucket full of shy

I live with hope of some lessened fear

I resort to gratitude to my dear


My eyes went through the storm and the hail

The trees danced like the jingle bell

The mercury got dropped in the early spring tale

Met the snow queen like the fairy tale

The first feeling of love

School love stories
For most of the readers love stories generally took its first steps way back in school. We all have some vivid memories of the first crush, first attraction and for some daring ones that first love letter that first gift and most importantly that first feeling , different to all the other feelings.

No wonder our memories about it might have faded with time and rendered insignificant in present context but I guess we all have special feelings about that first love. As you are reading through these statements you might as well be wondering about your first crush at the least. But is enough to bring instinctive smile, the one the author himself had as he was reminded of some of those instances by his friend from school. The painting in a way is dedicated to that first feeling. Yes they were immature, they may seem rubbish to some but they all make up for one romantic childhood story soothing to the memory.

My sincere thanks to the friend who inspired me to write on this issue.

Will you be my Valentine?

valentine's day
On the eve of the Valentine’s day I made my way through the heart of Kathmandu,Newroad as I was on my way home from office. Newroad, a bustling marketplace stands guard to all the love birds in town. Its lane are for most of time filled with couples of all age groups from teenage to married. I cannot pretty much find the difference in the intensity of emotions that each couples of respective age groups have for each other, may be love transcends limitation of age and the emotions it manifests.

The subtle calm, enduring smile and just heavenly happiness of being with each other made me for once just enticed into having a relationship. As they went passed me some with arms around each other and some with their hands clinging on to each other I also got past some hawkers selling valentine gifts it was just a sea of unending love. Some boys looking for girly stuffs and girls looking for some hunk stuffs I guess the effect of the love in the air was pretty much evident in their changed interest at least for an evening. Moreover the dimness of the twilight hours seemed like as if the air had been intoxicated with all the love brewing in the city. May be the author was just about feeling sorry and lamenting on his single status.

As I got down to painting for some Valentine Special I wondered if the author will be able to realistically able present that fateful emotion and that is best that I could think of. Love generally comes with that feeling of togetherness and everlasting pledge to be together during the sunny and rainy days. No wonder the two people in the painting are reflecting the same emotion and requesting “Will you be my Valentine?”

Last Sunday I was in conversation with a good friend of mine and the friend had questioned me about the basis of paintings and writings especially on love relationships. I guess lot of it comes from my observation of people in love and my inquisitiveness to manifest their emotions. At last Happy Valentine’s Day to all the readers and well wishers.

The award: versatile blogger award


Thanks a lot to Trisha Dey for nominating me for the versatile blogger ward. I could not be more thankful. Her inspirational blogs always excites me.

rules regarding this award are-

  • Displaying the Award Certificate on your website
  • Announcing your win with a post and link to whoever presented your award
  • Presenting 15 awards to deserving bloggers
  • Dropping them a comment to tip them off after you’ve linked them in the post
  • Posting 7 interesting things about yourself

Seven things about myself

  • I am presumably an extrovert but an introvert within.
  • I love the color blue
  • I love to paint and write
  • I easily go along well with anyone.
  • I am ambitious
  • I am fanatic about cricket
  • I pretty much think in simplest possible terms

My15 nominees for the award

I love you will you marry me

I love you
Its the month of February and love is in the air. For the love birds it almost feels spring, although the early morning chill and windy afternoon still keep the city temperatures down. “My friend” ,the protagonist of the earlier blog “They once had a love story”, is still sad. The friend is confused and really hurt by the latest developments in life. The friend had been tied up to marry somebody else. The deepening sorrow of the friend’s heart cannot be explained in words. But the friend feels that all love stories should have a fairy tale end.

As a Hindu, I strongly feel about the possibility of rebirth, so I decided to paint something that represents this possibility. The hands, one upon the other, suggests that they want to be together and keep the promises that they made to each other. But since my friend has realistically very little chance to see it happening for real in this lifetime, I thought the promise that they made to each and willingness to live together in this lifetime should have a romantic meeting in the next life. So the romantic tragedy of this lifetime I hope will have a fairy tale ride the next time they meet in the next birth. I believe that the lasting feeling and emotions for each other will transcend time and space and thereby the friend meets the love. In the next life probably all the forces that caused the separation will cease to exit and friend will have the chance to say ” I love you, will you marry me”. Then they live happily ever after.

I believe that all readers will have expressed their feeling for their love soon. In the Nepalese society more often ethnic, caste and religious differences act as hurdles to covert a love story into a lasting marriage. I guess its time for a paradigm shift.