Sunday, June 2, 2013

Waiting for monsoon.



A heat wave is blowing,
Weather hot and sultry
With the scorching heat of the sun.
I am fed up with this long spells of heat.


Waiting cloud to rise in the NEWS
Sky to overcast with dark
A cool breeze to blow
So I could say, welcome monsoon
When rain drops
Drops; peacock dances with joy
Drops; Poets compose hymps in praise of beauty.
Drops; leaf wash away their dirt
Drops; I took shelter under canopy
Drops; Slippery roads and streets
Drops; Naughty children laugh when a fat person falls
Drops; Green and fresh city, if  had bathed.
Drops; return the beauty lost.


After a good rain, dusty leaves green again.

A  collision between  rain drop and solid roof. "and result forming water bubble.

Welcome June, so long I eagerly waited, at last you shown.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Methok

Sooner or later, it was bound to hear. On 5th July, Methok’s ear cannot escape the word. Though it was not unexpected, she knew one day it will come up, but it came in a much unexpected way.
According to Methok, Tsering never speaks openly, his eyes would never contact, and whenever people join him in conversation, he always squeezed himself away from them. She looked him as inconvenient and terrible with all sorts of trouble. She knew he was young yet not, as he wasn't energetic and sociable to be young.
So on that morning, during a breakfast Methok state she doesn’t like his brother’s insanity and shyness, which in her mind was foolishness. She asks him to learn to show his face, talk about incidents, situation and event when somebody visits them.
     “And with her statement Tsering‘s face turn red, as if someone humiliated him. Furthermore felt like if he was being pressed hard by a creditor to whom he was unable to meet a payment on time. And no doubt, in his knowledge creditor was Methok and payment her expectation.
  Hence, meanwhile ‘Tsering said   “Shyness is weakness; weakness that every human had, but getting nowhere in 30 is certainly not a weakness”.  Apparently for Tsering it was merely tit for tat response. But for Methok, it was enough to recall his lost life.
                                                                           
             Nine years before

In those days there was nothing in Taplejung, only had is negative relationship between High degree of politics and quality politics, high rate of unemployment and employment generation schemes. The Nepalese people were witnessing the worst era of their history, both the inflation and deflation arose at a same time, so everything was high with fear, anxiety and curiosity. Beside everyone has questioned in their mind what's going to happen? Are really Maoist taking youth to recruit? Is the tourism boom declining? So what else we do?
On Wednesday it rained all day, it was shivering but wondrous, beside something incredible happened. Something went wrong between the Police and Moist cadre, in violence 5 civilians got killed. That rumor spread whole country like wild fire. Though rain washed away the blood, still people got panic and terrify. The phone rang from capital and various parts of country to inspect what happened? Are they okay? Is he dead?
But for Methok, it was her day. Just after hour of violence Methok was surrounded by political critics-her customer, they spoke of violence. Suddenly the phone rang, her sister was on line, she asked her to come Kathmandu as the atmosphere worsened in Taplejung. Moreover she has to stand on her foot, living in an aunt’s hotel has been neither forever nor will be.
That night she cannot sleep with eager to be in Kathmandu, moon too had not slept. VIBGOR fall on her, shone on her. She saw sky clear as her heart was clear.
Two days later, on Friday. It’s her time, Methok left Taplejung with a sudden rush of joy to see Kathmandu, her America about she heard from passerby, people and in radio. For her Kathmandu was utopia.
                                                                          

           Two years later

On Sunday she marked her second year in Kathmandu but still her heart was deep inside the forests. She knew she changed dramatically, people too points out she changed, however she knew only physically as “one may dress like one but one may never become one by heart.”
Again on day before Sunday, her sister and sister’s husband fought and quarrel.  No, quarrel and fought. It was the second time in a week they quarrel and fought like a maoist and king's army on the battlefield. All started with sister screamed as maoist cadre (her husband) question her liberty.
Sunlight is not only for men, God had given us right to see the light. Modern women want independence, ‘Her sister said
Because of women like you who call yourself modern woman, women have become more demanding than ever before. ‘Husband responded.
From few exchanges of argument  that what women needs and what kind of human, women had become. All things dramatically shifted from one thing to another first it was all about women, then caste, then ethnicity, then religion, then language , then culture and at last possession.

     “ And end of everything, no way that women can win, beside based on muscular fight. Poor women what she can do, cry or crush ? Actually both and that's what her sister exactly did. Thereof observing everything Methok was sure, she will not get crushed with man and will later not crush with her a spell.


Meanwhile 7 years passed.  Methok’s face start to wrinkle as she reached 27, 27 not old enough but not young enough anymore.  Irrespective of every phenomenon due to human nature, she once fell in love.  Love? Though she doesn't call it. For her it was fugitive love because of momentary attraction. That vanished with their difference.  Furthermore she defines it as natural happening which not only happens, which also dwell with you and you dwell with him. Nothing dwells between them, so they thought it would be better if they distance from each other.
The first few weeks were harsh, that literally can’t describe. She cried like her sister.  Soon she discovered solitude. But goodly same year Tsering  had finished his Secondary level examination in Taplejung.  And on 7th June, her sister had asked her to bring Tsering.
                                                                                        

Methok felt it wasn't gone long before she came through same road which still was dusty and bumpy. And when she heard the music of branches of fiery maple trees  drifting with the wind and producing rhythm, she felt not long at all.
Everything has reached there except development. When she looked on roof Marxist already haul up flags, when she talk about the forest, Maoist already made it their den, when she watches on the wall, it was full of propaganda of ruling allies, when she glances on  the road, it was filled with armed force patrolling. Thus over the years despite of modernizing, it fell backward.
                                                                                                      
Methok was taking dinner, when her aunt questioned. Are you not going to marry?
All Methok answer was silence as “Silence taught her to be silenced again and again”.
Man never looks women after 25 and you 27 now. You have to marry, don’t become a burden to your sister. ‘Aunt said when she hasn't replied.
She looked at her plate, a combination of yellow dhal and rice, food chemistry that never go wrong for people of Indian subcontinent. Meanwhile she ignored her aunt and drift her into deep thought. As she thought she thought of movies, books and tales that crafted marriage couple as joyful and happier contrary to what she herself witness, not only with her sister, with her aunt too. So as far as she knew she will never going to marry.

                Three years after

She reached 30 years last Monday. Till now she still retains her will, not to marry. But something is recently changing. Not because lack of determination to carry on, not because she was concerned about society. But because of herself, her unemployment, her maturity. And because of Tsering who said “Shyness is weakness; weakness that every human had, but getting nowhere in 30 is certainly not a weakness”  on today’s morning. That struck on her brain and keeps on cycling within it.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Puppets and Colour

  Puppets and  Colours


A thread which brings life inside the puppets
Edited on Photo Editor - PicMonkey  

                                                                                                     

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Story Through Black and White

Inspired with idea of Nyima Dorjee Bhotia. 

One elderly monk accompanied by two young monk.
This delightful beauty smiled at me and so clicked 

Just few kilometer away from Kathmandu.
 looking it seems worthless but story ( The life) is well captivated.

Discovering Goddess and goodness is hardest thing when you are young.
but when you get old it comes with no desire.



Friday, May 17, 2013

Dreams are ways to live, not mean to live.


"How much we proclaim, ourself as an independent stakeholder of our lives. We are never independent . As we never get independence, somebody always intervenes, mostly somebody close to us, always challenges our independence and we at last end of being dependent."
                                                                      ************
Perhaps It was Sunday  when Sonam reached Kalimpong, it was, because Sonam remembered two things about that day.
Children playing in the rain, way children plays only on Sunday.
His logic was well supported, as his assumption was based on his own childhood days in Kalimpong.  Kalimpong , a small hill station in Northern West Bengal.  A 1250mt hill with a rich history to narrate From  trade hub between Tibet and India once to education hub today.
For Sonam, it his second home. Where he along his four  friends spent a quarter of their life,  dreamt  dream and hope for accomplishment. At that time known of them knew W would become big L in front of them one day, some day.  And that day already arrived, they already realized. No grievances, No happiness, so they felt No big deal. They meant okay, but not okay.
When Sonam was a child his father used to say Kalimpong,A hill that heals, a hill that gives wings. But now as he grew something  change, almost everything change.  He realized his father was a liar, he lied to him. He lied hill will give him wings, but contrary hill even snatch little wings he had.
He sensed he had nothing, he will have nothing as he is nothing.
So he has No anymore desire left to fly
No greater glory to dream. He lost the battle of dreams long ago, his immune lost the battle from the enemy's hand, microbes won the battle. Microbes the Conquerors captured, taken everything he had and anything he will have. In the mist he never stood for what he believed.
So In his court, both things happened.
Found guilty so being accused!  Found innocent so being  acquitted.
                                                                       *********
    When they were on the way to kalimpong monsoon rain welcome them. Rain shed like tears, smoky cloud covered like a protective mother, the wind and thunder  cheered – singing and echoing the hill song that they hadn’t heard for years. They missed to read “Welcome to Kalimpong - Kalimpong is now ready to take cities”, a large hoarding board that usually hung on chipped, faded wooden gate. But they sorely missed it, as No anymore trace of chipped and faded wooden gate to be seen. Instead of that, a gate made of cement, sand and rock particles stand there –unmovable and unbendable even  by the wind  of the mighty Bay of Bengal.

Sonam looked at the back seat of his car, Hyundai I20 era which roughly costs 6.5 lakhs in India.  On the left side Tashi was sitting uncomfortably. Tashi , who wanted to be Histrion and obtain a degree in history from Sri. Ram College, Delhi University. End of being social teacher in primary school at Thimphu, capital of Bhutan from where he belongs to. For Tashi It was like dream versus stomach, and no question stomach should always come first. He lost his battle of dream in silent suffering. Once he fought for a dream but later he realized it comes at a cost that he can’t afford.

At the right side of Tashi, Ngodup was snoring. Ngodup an ambitious dreamer remains as a dreamer. He wanted to be a doctor a life saver- He used to say strange what the heart wants! Obvious strange what the hearts wants.  Sonam remembers he gave up when  his capability was qualified to pursue  medicine, yet he remains unqualified as he never passed 10 class social examination.  So Ngodup blame education system now and then for his lost in battle of dreams.

In the back seat, at the right side of car Chomphel was playing angry bird on mobile. He used to be a man of few words always serious, so always  looks really angry. Chomphel, dreamt to be a footballer, playing for Manchester United. He once played for a local team and got a best player award. People around him encouraged him to play more but his father on opposite saw nothing in him and nothing in football.  Once when he approached to his father to convince that even in football one can make fame and name. And his father,  so quickly frowned and whispered, listen my son stop this be materialistic. You’ll destroy yourself with such dream leave it. So at last he gave up and join father’s business.

If Passang was alive. He has sat next to Sonam. Passang, was one who started this all. He used to be the chief commander of their army. but nobody heard what Passang wanted to be as Passang gave up at fifth grade during winter vacation. When they all came back from vacation Passang never returned.  In replacement of his body a news returned that he got strike by Nepali Army, it is believed that he was shot when curfew was held. So his murderer never brought to justice for shooting 13 years school going children by doubting him as moist, What a sense of judgement.
Partly  It was the reason they lost the battle of dreams as they lost their chief commander at that very fast-
They never hope  and they never believed. So they left with no commander which can command what they have to do.

It was Sonam who wanted to be a writer but in a photographic way. He wanted to see the world in a different way as a photographer does, he wanted to read people’s character so that he could write stories and also imagine what’s going on inside. It was the day  when he completed writing his story and went to get published. He came to know his story is never going to publish as his writing was unique- too much real so that’s why too much offensive and criticism.  So he too choose business replacing writing.

They reached Kalimpong main bazzar at 12:30, it was still raining. And in the Mela ground back side of the motor stand Sonam saw Children  playing in the rain.  Passang slapped Lazy Ngodup to wake up. Ngodup woke, everybody sees each other at their face and everybody  saw loser  on their friend's face. But  at least  at last they all realized losing is not the bad thing that can’t overcome and dreams are just way to live not mean to live entirely some time.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Culture and religion variations in Nepal


Prayer wheels in Swayambhunath (Monkey Temples).
Swayambhunath - one of most scared Buddhist pilgrimage presence in the world.
The  varieties of Temples, Shrines and Stupa has such impact that here Goons too, behaves in Dharmaic way, wicked guys too, burn up their every wickedness

Mixture of Buddhist and Hindus Deities on sale.

                                                               Sadhus at Pashupatinath. "shoot in medium Apaerture "

Night mode shoot in a daylight, though with help of bit graphic, but it looks awesome.
   

Monday, April 29, 2013

Is this the love ? Simple but complex.

                                Tell me what is love? The heart is getting  thirst.
                            In dream you come and disappear. Why am I restless?
                                 Come nearer wanted to tell you something,
                               Things lips can’t say, stare my eyes listen to it. 
                                            Taken heart, given panic.
                                     Don’t come this much, I get afraid
                           No, no don’t distance that much, I can’t bear.
                              You may leave for  far and go far away.

                         Wind has something to say. Or why they blow your hair.
                              Losing self in strange occurrence, becoming yours.
                      The heart has something to fill. Or why they beat to dance.
                                     Making beautiful, taking impurity.

                   Tell me what is love? The heart is not fearing from foe.
                    In the strange world Lost I am, and you too.
                                            Is this the love ?
               Or why I listen to your word, to which nobody listens.  
                                          Is this the love ?
                                     Or why I wait for you.
                                           Is this the love ?
                                        Simple but complex.



Saturday, April 27, 2013

our-General knowledge examination




Q1)     Who  is Women?
 Ans-   A section of society whose contribution never credited, whose deeds never respected, whose  Presence never valued and whose lives never counted are used to be women and still is.

Q2)     Who is Human?
 Ans-    A living being who is hard to differ whether - a religious or an atheist, a traditionalist  or a modernist, a  hero or a villain, a greed hearted or a kind hearted , an existence or an invisible , a good or a bad, a conflicted or a centered.


 Q3) What is and will be different between women and men?
Ans-  The difference between men and women is- Man's are history, Women's are mystrey.
 The difference between men and women will be- Man will be manned, women will remain women.

It was like three complicated question and it was like three simple answers, nothing to worry, nothing to laugh so not a big deal. Everything happened, everything observed, everything known and ignored everything. Cyclic one 


Sunday, April 21, 2013

Mirror and You.


Look at them, look at wall - You will find yourself on reflection. 
Who you are? Why you are? How you became? 






Friday, April 19, 2013

What beautify earth?


For one who taught me beauty is everywhere. But to behold, I need a heart inside the eye.   
                          Yes! Everything is beautiful. THANK YOU.


As sun to a cloud

As cloud to a mountain
                                           
                                                          As mountain to a  river- Beautify Earth

A girl who had warm, soft and clear look on her face that I knew was beauty, but with comfort and hope. Who is truly a masterpiece, exceptional in every way,  a girl rare to find whose beauty is unutterable.

Friday, April 12, 2013

Induce Holiness.


    Photography is nothing, just a relationship between some basic physics and  idealism.




                                        "what i see you can't see.
                                         what you see i can't see.
                                               It's really is crazy."

                       



                                                        Learn, experiment
Be the first, be advance
Be somebody, be yourself
Is life about success, is life about growth
Build yourself , build a new path
Win through aptitude, win trough attitude
Be the best human, create better example
Make a career worth living for, make a living with your passion.

Friday, March 22, 2013


We people are not bad, it’s just the heart, two hearts which make us bad -one for self and another for the world. 

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Who are we? Are we really independent as we proclaim?\



No matter how much we proclaim oneself as an independent stakeholder of our lives, but we never are independent as we never get independence. Somebody always intervenes, mostly people close to us. They always challenge our independence and at the end of the day we end of being dependent.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Go- believe in reality instead of figure. PART -1


Which fool is going to expect double digit growth, as this is the condition of the Nepalese economics student.
1

 2
  

 3

 4

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Flame Up

Meat Culture - Hill Culture

Spot  Eagle on Kathmandu's sky. it rear to see



"Cloud Formation at midday"
Mobile captured 
"Reddishmandu" clicked at 5:45 pm 


Thursday, February 7, 2013

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Your Dream, Mine Hope and His Imagination a Psychological game of management



We dream too much good,  hope too much good and imagine too much good but we don’t retain the capability to believe in them. Equally at the same time  we don’t  accumulate courage to turn them reality because most of our dreams are fake with full of ego, hopes are filled with full of selfishness and our imagination fill with a heap of sin to commit- cruel human act. Then our good thinking is captured and hence our ability to adopt moral responsibility towards outer circle, society and the State  get disrobe and chain by ego and self centered view. This later slowly develops as our philosophy . The philosophy of self empowerment (personal gain through misconduct, offend, misuse and fraud). However most people able to  get rid of its radical part  and instead opted liberal part of its development  but  some people 100 out of 3 to 4  get  totally lost by the beauty and attractiveness of the philosophy  and surrender them psychologically. Which result in lack of guilt in wrong doing such as criminal activities and often they end of being criminal, offender and such.
During  its initial development we come to an awareness that the our path “psychological Perception” is heading us towards where we are fundamentally and logically wrong in terms of  what we are learning, what we are influencing ourself  and what we are accepting  but even then we don’t discourage them.  Why to discourage them. When we have developed them , shape them. So Instead we defend them, nourish them, make them more strong by giving more strength, guard them and wall them enough that  no opponent can make it to them no matter we are wrong or right about it.
Our dream, hope and imagination towards physical world is affected by our inner sentiment.  How we view  their appearance and developed our idea about that particular thing. Often  our dream, hope and imagination is the result of our  thought, view, or attitude towards  it.
With support of following reason In my study of Corruption. corruption is act affected by how we view, persuade and give Value towards norms set up by the physical world where we had settled.  So If we give greater attention where corruption are involved no matter of their scale too small or too huge. Every case exists because of the not ineffectiveness instead felling of ineffectiveness norms set up by the State and how we are seeing and valuing them. And secondly drive by three characteristics of corruption “Hope” of becoming rich, “Dream” of getting luxurious and “Imagination” of gaining social respect .  Otherwise who just have enough guts to misconduct  even though there is judiciary that is checking him/her. Due to poor norms, the state of corrupt people always thinks themselves as clever. Clever enough that they can manipulate every black note into white note through their cleverness. Even  all other criminal activities such as  molestation, trafficking, murdering  and heartbreaking criminal activities do exist because of same factor may their might be some slid changes in characteristics  due to the difference in the level of satisfaction he/she may want to obtain through the act .

                                                                                                         https://www.facebook.com/tennxin

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

I find myself beyond the limitations of identity


I decided long ago I am a ……….. This is the identity I am most comfortable with. Born, raised and educated in a conflicted environment. I am a person extremely sensitive about Nepali communities when with Indian communities, Indian communities when with Nepali communities and Tibetan when with both communities. When outside these communities, I neither know how fully to associate with them, nor know how fully disassociate.
 When very young, perhaps fifth grader, the question of my identity put me in a sort of crisis. Indian history book, Bollywood movies and Indian soil where I spent one third of my life told me numerous times I was an Indian. But the nation where I was born, a nation where my house lies had told me a different story, she convinces me I was a Nepali. Contrary to both arguments  our traditional belief, Chupa my mother wears, languages I speak at home and above all Tibetans in my soul never let me become both. Instead keep on telling me, I was a Tibetan until ultimately I grew confused and embarrassed.
If I was Tibetan, what right did I have to be living here in Kathmandu, speaking Nepali, being friend with those other children and what right I have to ShymbhouNath and BouddhaNath. Eventually if I was Nepali, what right did I had that I have done my schooling in India, to my school uniform, to the Indian national anthem, to local Momo’S of Darjelling and to the holy Bodhgaya. Equally  If I was Indian, what right did my mother have that she wear Chupa, what right I have that I speak Tibetan at home, to Tibetan Losar , to His Holiness.
After too many friends, too many uncles and aunties , too many strangers and tourist had asked me who I was , I went to my father  and question him. Who I was? A Tibetan, a Nepali or an Indian. And my father, so quickly frown and whisper, did not frown and whisper. He was emphatic and definite. But without an answer.  All he said was not Indian for sure, as he has nothing to relate with India but partly I was.  I had so many things to relate.
I whispered to myself am I identityless, no never I am not  identityless, nobody is and even I am not. Is it because of my father who says his father was migrated from Tibet before occupation but he had no evidence to relate to when? Why?  It may be because his foolishness. Or it might be because of the influence of Indian soil that jeopardize my identity. But above all I believed It is because of a strong desire to understand who we're, who we are now  and how our search for identity result in affects in our perception and action. In those searching evenings I called myself………. I loved the word because being it , I find myself beyond the limitation of identities.  


Thursday, January 10, 2013

I search for a character


Every hour, I look at the mirror, trying to locate the ‘me’ behind the heavy makeup. I check my eyelashes, my lipstick, the expensive designer dress that perfectly reflects ‘beauty,’ and yet something is missing. Something that people say I have lost. And I lust for what is lost, although I do not understand the mechanisms through which society points it out.
My mobile rings. The person on the other side says he’ll pick me up in five minutes. I hang up after the approval. The gadget, very costly, was gifted to me by a top businessman from the town. I gaze at my sari, again in the mirror. It’s a present from one of those famous anchors on television. One by one, I calculate the price (and the donors) of everything I wear—from the hairpins, to the nail polish. Alas… Nothing is mine. As tears roll down my cheeks, I accept that my body is not mine.
The sharp sound of the horn brings me back to the present and my observation of myself in the mirror. I wipe the two small drops, puff a little powder, and look at the mirror one last time. I know that as long as my beauty and youth survive, I survive. I put on my sandals, and before I can remember whose present these were, the car horn sounds again. I lock the door and head towards the red car. The man, who is among the city’s most renowned personalities, opens the door and smiles an artificial smile. I hate such smiles, but reluctantly smile back.
I sit beside him. He stares at me for a few seconds. His eyes then slip downwards, scanning my whole body with them as if with an X-ray machine. As if he was a doctor about to write a prescription for my illness, my poverty, based on the results of the X-ray. I look straight in his eyes. He looks away, and starts driving. Our journey starts at 11, and as he drives, I recall the journey of my life. Had I been in the village, my mother would’ve been planning her grandchildren’s names right now. Had my father been alive, I would, perhaps, have never needed to leave the village.
Prosperity is a boon. Only the poor can understand the pain that comes with their poverty. My mother and I had already seen the worst times of our lives. There could be no worse than this, my mother thought. So, when Resh proposed that he would marry me, she was more than happy. She agreed, and I had to agree. I took Resh as a gentle person, someone I referred to as ‘dai.’ I had never surmised that he had indeed harbored romantic feelings for me.
Our marriage took place at the local temple, and Resh and I vowed to be each other’s lovers, guardians and protectors. I had, at that time, believed that my days of misery were gone. I had thought that happy days awaited me then. Little did I know that this was to be the beginning of a horror episode in my life; an episode that still continues today.
We moved to the Capital in hopes of a better future. Resh started looking for a job and I began looking after the ‘house’—a single room that in itself was the bedroom, the kitchen, and also the living room. At first, even this life seemed perfect. As in real life, we’d thought that we’d overcome our poverty as long as our love for each other shone brightly. Real life, however, is far more cruel and ugly. Although I continued being faithful to the vows we’d taken together, Resh was overcome by a sense of faliture; the ‘thunder’ that poverty is, had finally struck him down. I tried consoling him, told him that our days of difficulty would soon be over; but all this to no avail. I now know what being poor can do to people. They become greedy and hungry, like jackals ready to feed on prey that is still alive. For Resh, I became that prey.  
Tears overflow, and what remains? Just the carcasses of broken trust, shattered dreams and a bunch of questions that no one can answer.
  Even after all that he had done to me, I really believed that Resh would, some day, realized that his actions had been grave misdeeds. My faith in my own belief that he’d always be with me even compelled me to bear all that he did to me. In a way, I did not want to lose the security of my life—my husband. To earn him, I had to lose myself every day.
But one day, he left. I lay there on the veranda, tears all over my eyes, my dupatta on the ground, after a failed attempt at stopping him. I begged him not to go, “For the sake of our marriage,” I told him, but he had nothing but blame for me.
The neighborhood had turned into a stadium.
  All eyes and ears set on us. I,
Holding on to his legs, he, dragging me, and getting out of the door. I shouted at him that I was his wife. My husband, in front of all those strangers yelled, “Wife!! You claim to be my wife? You bitch! Fool around with all the other men, and you still behave as if you are the victim! You’re a characterless woman. I would rather embrace a widow as my wife than someone who has lost her character! Understood!??”
I froze. I could not think, let alone react. He walked out; on our marriage and on my pride. The skeptical eyes staring at me, were no less painful than the eyes all the strangers making artificial love for me. I felt a tremor in my head and fell unconscious. When I came back to my senses, I was still there, in the same position and condition. Not a single person had come to help me. I have, ever since that day, known that the society is devoid of emotions, par humanity. And being a part of it, I had to be emotionless too, if I was to fulfil my needs, and survive in this inhuman world.
The car stops. I can see the watchman open the gates. We enter the bedroom, and both of us become the hunters. He ruthlessly hunts my body, and I stab my character, which—by the way— has been lost many times. Every time I open the door to a bedroom,. May be one day, I too, like my clients, will satisfy the lust for my lost character.   

Friday, January 4, 2013

Realisation


Garr … Gerrr ….I felt old rusted Fan which was facing me, was producing more sound than it actually rotating in a circular motion. Though I kept it to flow cold air to drop the temperature down inside the room as compare to outside, it hardly cools me just sitting two foot step front from it; Today for the first time in my entire life I thought my grandfather’s only presented present left with me need be either dumped or to be fixed.
Beside that fan I was sitting in front of a "screen of a black boarded monitor from which white flash light was coming from the webcam hanging on its one upper side" opening my PC .
“With both feelings of excitement and anxiety at a same time to know what will she reply”, I log in and log out my Facebook account after each fifteen minutes of interval after sending her apologize and rejoin proposal message but she didn’t reply.
I eagerly wanted to know how will she react, will she forgive me and accept me again; I thought about it from every aspect,
At the same time I was getting answers from a part of heart within me it was saying she will forgive you though you may had create her life upside down many times but still she loves you and more than that she is a girl with a big heart. But another  part doesn’t agree.

Finally after one day she sent me a lengthy message but it resembles and written in more kinds of poem and a letter style.
Hi dear,
       I wanted to hear this from you many months before
         When I had given you everything that I could give,
              But when, you never accepted.
When I was emotionally, psychologically, physically broke, I expected you to consult,
              But when, you never consulted.
When I cried like an infant in front of your face and ear, I wanted you to see and hear
             But when, you never saw and heard.
When at the time you argued me, I hoped you to understand the situation
             But when, you never understood.
When you abandon me in this lonely world, I simply wanted to sleep
              But when, I couldn’t sleep those mystery nights.
When I cried and cried remembering your words, I hoped you to make me laugh
            But when, you never allowed me to laugh.
When I got stuck with anger and depression, I hoped you would come to heal
             But when, you never come to heal.
When I struggle with arrogance, fear, insecurity and other negative forces, I expected you to show me a way
              But when, you never come to show me a way to out of it.
           I expected you to be behind me that every breath that I inhaled.

But you was never there,  so why should I  struggle like “an educated unemployed youth who travel office to office, town to town in search of job and after getting job he discover  this that job is worthless; so he leaves the job and start his adventure again until he realized that he himself is worthless" same is with me I searched too much in you and found you an affection-less empty heart person who has no real feelings for me as you said, know I discovered at last that either you are worthless or either me.
I want to let you know Now that everything is over and soon our relationship will too become a story that would never be known
During last two years everything is changed from me to entire world “look around middle east had changed, Gaddhfi had been dethrone, Assad is on process, protest against capitalism occupy wall street had evolved and spread with momentum from west London to far east Tokyo, Obama had failed what he had promised few years before when he was on presidential election, now world reached 7 billion mark, more than 96 Tibetans immolated ” within them my heart is like “ an air which never retained a fixed place” my heart too can’t avoid those outer changes which change my inner beliefs.
I have nothing more to say, just be happy and let me be.
I am sorry sweetheart
XYZ

I read it again and again, I couldn’t believe myself that she had rejected my rejoined proposal. I got emotionally broke as she refers; the pain grew and blocked all my mental abilities to move to make a decision what to do.
Days and days later, I started to scold and hate myself, lost interest in every activity from eating to studying, Negative thoughts were developed and anger and depression become activities.
I questioned myself that why the realization process comes after action. At that very day I realized my mistake; that can’t be rearranged at any time.
Now today 12 months passed still I hardly heal myself. “ The shape of her eye, her long eyelashes, her inch circular birthmark above her eye,  slid upturned nose and her full lips” presence in my mind and draws her picture in my heart without even a slid mistake.