Let there be rain…

20160821_174731The day was warm as hell. But the twilight hour rain turned the nasty experience with the day’s sun into a chilling experience with the rising moon. The pacifying aura of mother nature was at full display. It was raining cats and dogs to the utter dismay of the ones without an umbrella. Even I carried over the day’s disappointments of not having been able to have a good lunch in the afternoon. But the burst of the rain drops kissing my face as I walked out of a cafe demystified nature’s magical heal. I fortunately lost all heat, stress and annoyance in that one moment. It would be utter exaggeration if I call it my moment of enlightenment. But if I truly believed my exaggerations it was that close to making me a BUDDHA. Following that moment I was stuck in rain for about 30 minutes at the heart of Hetauda, a city in the central hills of Nepal. But the patience drawn from magical touch worked well for me as I was able to witness an equalizing effect of rain.

Rain is a great equalizer. It soaked the beauties and the hunk, the bald and the bold, the proletariat and the gentry, the dark and the brown. To sum it up it left all blessed with its magical touch. I hope we all have our own moment in the rain where we are able to clear off all our greed, frustrations, egos and disappointments. Let there be rain…


Towards reclusive enlightenment

Towards reclusive enlightenment

I was lost for a while not that I could not be found again. But however it is interesting that I did not mind being lost. It really had been quite some time that I had stopped writing, which in no way is indicative of decline in my passion for writing and painting. May be it was just my moment of solitude which allowed time to revisit my position and thoughts. I don’t know if the word solitude is camouflage for my laziness but quite frankly the sudden absence has no logical explanations. For me logic and rationality are like two teenager requiring answers about the all the changes within self. Sometimes things take their natural course of action they just evolve with time, they just happen.

The other day I was in conversation with a friend of mine. The friend was telling me about problems in lives of people the friend knew. The problems were basically to do with relationships and how they had failed to materialize that is their stories did not have “they lived happily ever after”. The friend told me about a decade long relationship which ended with the death of the boy. In other case the boy seemed to have bag full of insecurities about her lady love and in the mean time the lady love, the pacifier, was beginning to lose the purpose of relationship due to the coexistent fear. So they decided to head in their own directions. In other case that the friend shared with me a boy has strong feeling about a friend of his but he has not been able share his feelings for her. It is often difficult thing to do although the emotions evolve and transpire quite naturally. Complexities they are and I sincerely don’t have an answer to them. May be they were destined to happen and in for first two of the three cases may be they deserved a better pair, harsh it sounds but I am just trying fill in the logic behind. No wonder you might think otherwise, my sincere apologies for the indifference.

Realistically thinking from the perspective of the child the world may not be as complex as it looks or seems. But as we enter the world of adulthood we have dreams, aspirations, egos, acquired selfishness and jealousy and most importantly thinking patterns in likeness to the surrounding beings as a part of socialization, completely distorting the child within. I think that may be the straight forward solution to the grief born due to our peripheral and inherent complexities can be simplified by rejuvenating the child within. Revisiting self and internalizing one’s actions may often have the answer to “why” of all the complications of life.

Sometime I wonder what if everything went the way you and I wanted. What if you and I were devoid of all our existing problems? I guess it would be one boring real story, without twist and turns and we would be denied the opportunity of realization of self. More often the world of adults is about presenting oneself at their best in doing so we also tend to present our self as strong, well thought out intellectuals which in most circumstances we are not. Its OK if you feel like crying, allow the tears to roll down; its OK if you feel weak and helpless sometimes, you need not present yourself as some unwavering personality; its OK if you are horribly confused, they are annoying but its natural and so are your complications just allow them bloom and wither. May be its just the way up the ladder towards much reclusive enlightenment. A saga of unsung warrior within.

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.

They once had a love story

They never really had love story

“Love story”, the word itself sounds full of emotions, memories and most importantly the willingness of two human to transcend beyond individual differences together culminating into an omnipresent joy. Love story can sometimes be fictitious specially with regards to Nepalese and Indian film love stories. Where we can find music playing in the background, leaves flying past often with gentle breeze, everything going slow motion sometimes even slight drizzle amidst bright sun shine. Yes they might seem quite dramatic but it is in a way reflection of overpowering emotions of the people in love and their utmost desire to be together.

As humans we are all destined to some love stories of our own. Some may have materialized and some not. For me personally only those relationships that had fairly tale end that is they lived happily ever after account for a love story and those relationships that did not quite make it, interestingly does not make up for my definition of a love story. Which includes our infatuations and short term likeness for the opposite gender. While you read this you might be just recalling all those relationships, all the those moments shared with people you liked, you were infatuated or actually had a relationship and just for a moment might make you wonder if things could have been otherwise. I was actually inspired to write this particular blog from a friend of mine. My friend is worried, sad and emotionally moved that a long standing relationship may not just make it to a marriage. While I was trying to paint the emotion that my friend shared with me about the unjustified end to the relationship, I questioned my self, “Did they really have a love story?”, My heart said yes they did have a love story; they did have the emotions there. The painting here is in way my deepest respect for all those relationships that did not have a fairy tale end.

Who knows whose fault was that, just let it be may be it was just not the right time, may be your emotions were not that deep or may be there was different script for them all together. Don’t blame for who knows about the compulsions that he or she might have faced while he or she bid farewell to you.

The sagely building

The capital city of Kathmandu has been gripped by cold temperatures. For the last four days the minimum temperature has been below freezing. It was a bit a relief for most of city residents as the minimum temperature dared to rise above zero today. The shock and dismay at the faces of my fellow residents at the rather uncharacteristic weather pattern was not enough to allow me a second thought. It has since long been the center for excellence for all the Nepalese, its where the dreams take their flight, hopes meet their materiel self; its where the performer get their stage,determination get their tool  and love birds enjoy their romantic evening. Moreover a city of kisses and misses and of chance and unpredictability.

Unpredictability has different  version but its biosphere is sure big enough to include all the love stories that did not have a fairy tale end, all the divorces that had a promising start and all those pride that of the living and non living which failed to endure. Pride is often in its abstract self. But interestingly of late I have been able to see it stand helplessly.

On my way to my radio station I often pass through an old parliamentary building of the country. A majestic building then, a mere piece of craft now. While I grace the building with utmost respect for its past importance I just begin to wonder the amount of pride the building must have had. The one of its kind design, light yellow complexion, built in classic British design and some fantastic wood carvings at its front.

The building by no means is living. But as for me at least its just quiet, frustrated, irritable and unwilling to converse. Because it has been left unoccupied for long time now. The country has gone through revolutionary changes and in the meantime the country’s parliament increased in volume . So it was left to perish. The hurt pride I guess would be the right analysis for its quietness. The pride is seen hurt in its worn out paintings, its drowsy garden, dust laden window panes and most importantly its closed doors.

Frankly its a sagely building. Its teaching me about the harsh realities of time. Its quietness tells me that every rise will have its natural fall. Nothing persists in the permanency of change. The pride at the end is sometime or the other subject to embarrassing disrespect. Therefore it would be mere foolishness to boast of one’s achievement at present. It tells me that humility is the key word. Therefore let our success not overcome our humble self. Let the illusion be broken.

Let the hope overcome our fears-the eve story

The eve of every passing year always has that element of excitement, joy and mixed feeling about the year that we are bidding farewell to.  Mixed feeling, because we lay at the juncture of such an honorable transition, that redefined and magnified our perspective and deep seated emotions for last 365 days.   

She was unknown to me when I last witnessed her on January 1st, 2012.  Unpredictability it was, the very core character of time that kept me guessing about the events that were to unfold. Since the past one week the television channels, newspaper, radio stations have been kept busy with a look back at the prominent events of the year 2012. But as I was retuning back from office this evening I went to a bit of a flashback and and quickly scanned through my experience with 2012. I wondered what was special in it? what it had given me?

The first things that struck my mind was the immense opportunity to work on a range of things from news reading to journal editing to managing day to day works at the office. But even more than the amount of work that she graced me with I believe it was the exposure to some core values of professional life that will continue to rekindle my thoughts and guide my actions through out my professional life.

Workplace as I came to know is something like an university where we try to use our knowledge within the limitations of the practicalities. Quite often principles and theories clash with realities of time in rather awkward way but it is interesting that some compromising theorems do come into picture and settle the nerves. Every time when such clashes occurred my so called principles took a back seat which in a way was like any ethical apocalypse.

In all of our journeys through the year each one us might have had our own incident of ethical apocalypse but it so happens that by the time we look back at them they seem quite normal and ever existing phenomenon. Quite  resoundingly the year graced me with some compromising character which is something new to me, which is something unlike me and representative of my deep seated fears.

I sincerely hope that for all of us the upcoming year will be victory over our untold fear. let the hope overcome our fears.



The romantics of the morning Kathmandu

My city has been currently gripped up in some cold chilly winter temperature. Although it is not as bad as which I used to experience during my childhood, but enough to challenge the self pride of every early risers in the town. Moreover the early morning power cuts seem be the prized bonus of the chill outside which manipulates the biological clock into thinking that it just past midnight.

With the work cut out for the poor and laborious emergency lights the city wakes up just a bit late. The laziness creeps in just a bit more as alarm clocks go off wishing its owner a very good morning. But for the poor alarm instead of getting a gentle tap of appreciation for the wake up call gets a harsh smash and in case of mobile phone alarm the deadline gets extended with snooze time.

The warmth inside the quilt has no comparisons with the mother’s lap but I guess cold temperatures outside a wet window pane compels me rethink both these emotions of warmth. The quilt has no emotions but as she protects me from the biting cold I begin to appreciate her love for me.

Metaphorically the cold outside stands up for all those hindrances in one’s life that sometime seems almost impossible to conquer within. But the cold outside keeps me vigilant instead against that entire passiveness, restless and hopeless in life. The conscious decision to come out of the enticing warmth embodies within it the willingness to overcome all barriers as I wake up to a testing chilliness and set out work in yet another knowledgeable day at work.

As I travel to my radio station at six in the morning the challenge of the biting cold will have reached new heights every passing day. At that hour of the days sun seems to be late for work as well. But the low temperatures of the morning hours also come with some graceful sites. The ladies in the boots, fancy jackets, coats, white colored air plugs, colorful mufflers, cross bags and the scooter are some usual sites of the morning Kathmandu. The ladies in the boot and coat very much resemble an empowered London girl that is I had written a few days back commenting on my colleague’ picture in a social networking website and true they are. The freshness in the faces is worth a look as it all makes up for a beautiful morning. Although they look humble in their first sight but when I trying thinking about it later I always think all those inspiring faces not only circulate a wave of  positivism but also shuttle boast of their beauty as if telling me , “ you don’t have to stare like that I know I look beautiful.”

Moreover morning shift college students also have continued battle against the cold. But the college couples seem to love the morning cold as they pass by me with their arms entangled around each other by their side may be the cold provides a strong reason for the new found intimacy.

 But lucky them and luck me that at least I have every reason to talk about their impounding fashion rather than old rhetorical stories of gender discrimination. Their pin point high heel shows may just be mere fashion statement but to me they are the sounds of joy, of victory, of hope and of belief that things are changing and they have changed. Let the freedom sound to its loudest at least I don’t mind.