Sunny Side Up!!

Life was weary,

After the great turmoil,

Gather myself to walk,

On the thin barbed wire,

Scarlette was my wounds,

My heart had sung a million songs,

Sad, happy and anguish ones,

Not ever it has tickled,

The way it is speared with the last one.

Your arrival was the colour wagon,

Splashed my breathe left and right,

Dreams were light, like
The pink cotton candy fly.

Desires and wises come out of the dark,

Smiles started dancing on the front stage,

When you hld me in your arms and

 said "Everythings gonna be fine,mi Amorita"

A song of a Broken Heart

Birds chirps outside the window,

it can only hear them whine,

River flowing around the corner,

making it feel the clasping of waves,

Sun shining down on a freezing morning,

only the temporary stay,

Rain pouring down the mountains,

pretending washing the pain.

A broken heart can barely see,

the light in the darkness,

It struggles, it fights,

it ponders, it cries,

It screams in agony,

and only it can hear it.

When the peeper cries, 

the world can see the tender eyes,

But when the core cries,

the sounds reverberates inside the thine

(We all have our dark sides and this is mine...sometimes i feel this way as well :).....:)......)

A song for my Mama

Since the moment I saw the light,
I remember you,
Holding me, cradling me,
Giving me your warmest hugs,
You held me when I toddled around,
Gave me the wonder words,
Taught me the best manners.

Times were when I didn't listen,
And thought it was my life,
Sorry, I disappointed you,
When I lost my way.

The way you ran for errands,
Held the nest when in need,
You would have sleepless nights,
When I was groggy,
You did the best you could.

Now I'm of your size,
And know what is right,
I can do what you can,
And stand high as I can.

But no matter how hard I try,
No matter how big I become,
Mama, your heels will
Always remain bigger than mine.

(This is the first poem I have ever written and was published in the Kathmandu Post.I am posting it on my blog today as it is the birthday of the most beautiful and influential woman of my life... My Mom) 

My Suicide Note

The hurt within my head,

Pounds my heart into pieces,

My legs give up in the burden of failed admiration.

The Loneliness sings the songs of glory,

Mockering at the doorsteps of life,

My eyes close down,

To save one moment of agony.

The cheerless soul wants to escape,

And travel to the unknown destiny,

The senseless body,

Wants to rest in peace.

When,

The warrior within, heaves the soul,

To rise again, above all distresses,

The poison of disappointments,

Cascading through the veins,

Are pushed to the edge.

No more this body will suffer,

The unseen,

No more will outlandish traitors,

Will banish the courage and self.

No tear will fall for their triumphs,

Over my broken wings,

As I write this note,

For the suicide of your desire,

To devour my strength.

(A thought of a zombie mind :)...comments and criticism are highly expected)

An Original Magnum Opus

With the injected drops of your love-

the lozenge of ambrosia

I started hearing the leaf drop

noticed the lonely moon,

the winking stars,

the sun peeping through the clouds

I succmbed to you my immorata

like the patient of euthanasia.

(Self Composition of Someone who cared enough to sent it to me on V Day...thought shared with permission of the writer)

Loving Each Day

You said lets celebrate the V day

For our love and for its glory,

But I wonder which day is no V day for me

Coz I celebrate love each day with you.

(P.S.from the bottom of my heart and soul )

For You on Valentine's Day

One of my all time favorite poem by P.B.Shelley. Cant help it!! posting it for all the lovers for Valentine's Day..Celebrate love each day coz everyday is special with a loved one :).... Happy Love Day!

Love's Philosophy

(1803-1822)

The fountains mingle with the river,

And the rivers with the ocean;

The winds of heaven mix forever,

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one another's being mingle;--

Why not I with thine?

See! the mountains kiss high heaven,

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister flower would be forgiven,

If it disdained it's brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--

What are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?

I Love Pancakes

Oh how I love cakes...black forest, cheese and then ice cream cakes in summers.and finally I love PANCAKES, a girl in her early 20s talking to her friend in a cafe made me wonder if pancake is cake, as in cake, or it's something else. I thought I shouldn't judge this smart, beautiful woman for such a negligible error.
This incident happened almost a month back. Since then I have tried a few 'happening' places in Kathmandu where youngsters 20-25 years old usually hang out. Recently I read an article which said that if you want to change a country, the upcoming generation (20-25 years) should be taken into consideration because they are the pillars of tomorrow. Highly inspired by his suggestion, I made a small personal observation.
I used to sit in these places alone or with a friend drinking coffee or beer. I noticed that majority of the people come in couples (not necessarily male and female) or groups of four and five. As my focus was on singletons or groups, I ignored the couples. Both genders usually have their own distinct topics to discuss unless they are in a mixed group. For instance, the common topic of conversation among girls is how she bunked classes, how a fellow counterpart is bullied for her sense of dressing, how she gave excuses for her poor results and, of course, her rival's boyfriend. On the contrary, guys talk about going out, drinking, dope, computer games, movies and music. It was disappointing to see that none of the groups talked about learning, exchanging information, career, professional plans, etc. etc. The only consolation I could gather was their talks about studying abroad, especially United States of the America.
At one point I became nostalgic. I recalled what we used to talk about when we were the same age, in the same hangouts. I agree we talked about the same stuff and did the same things, but like the 21st century technology, these informal conversations are also growing more complex and sophisticated with time. Youngsters now understand that living life like 10 years back won't take them anywhere. Life is not like it used to be where you sit with your friends all day long without really losing anything. In fact, you could do it for a month and still you didn't lose anything. Now if you laze around for a week, you have to do a lot of catching up. You have to run with the technology. Not far from here I look at the Indian crowd and draw comparisons (not a good thing to do but can't help it): the Indians are so focused and competitive. They know that if they don't act now, they will be left behind in the race.
This is a wholly personal observation so I am sure people may have their own perspectives on this matter. Before I conclude, however, there is one more thing I'd like to mention. We all have our own tastes of music so I request young zealots not to play their music too loud in public places. Please show some etiquette. There is a thing called headphones, an awesome Western invention.
And pancake is not a pastry just because it has 'cake' in its name.

(Published in The Kathmandu Post on 21st March 2009)

Food & Me

I am an average height fat woman. Yes, I repeat I am a fat woman and I love food. I love food and yes good food. “Good” doesn’t really have to mean, the latest in town like an international food chain where you line up for hours to get a piece of chicken wings paying hundreds of rupees or some expensive exotic restaurant which opens up in the most pose areas. We celebrate every occasion with food. Whether it is birth, death, wedding, promotion, travel, success or failure. No occasion is complete without good food.

I started cooking at the age of eight. The first thing I ever cooked was parathas and omelets. It was winters in some small town in India where I was visiting my aunty. She is my first cooking teacher. Every morning I packed food for my uncle, which was off course paratha and omelet. He never complained in fact he always bestowed me with comments like “next time put a little less salt in the eggs” or “you want to try cooking egg in some other style” or “you mind taking the egg cells out properly tomorrow, it just ruins the lovely taste you give to the omelets”. It was a starter for me into the elephantine world of food. I burnt a lot of cakes, over cooked chickens, hopeless desserts and so on and so forth. But it was all a learning process for me. Food actually got into my mind. I never looked into it as a profession or career but it was something I always loved doing.

One important thing I learn in the progression and also told by one of my late grand aunt (may her soul rest in peace) is that your emotions are the most important ingredient in cooking. And with my experience I agree with it completely. My mum always told me that the best food I ever cook is the food I cook for my brother and my friends. And I know the reason as well. It is the love and affection I have for these people that I blend into my cooking. Simple fried rice will taste awesome or a quick chicken chilly will taste totally Chinese coz of the effort you put into its making. Not only love, a lot of times it is your anger, your frustrations and complains you add on to your food.

Recently one Saturday, like a typical Nepali, I was trying to cook some meat and I happen to ran into an argument with my brother. I was really angry but I had no choice and I had to continue my cooking. Like always I did what I had to. All the ingredients were same and the cooking time was accurate. But to my surprise the food was burnt and the smell was awful. What was the extra thing I put in there. I pondered and I knew the answer. It was no love this time. It was my displeasure I put in the food. I felt guilty.

For me cooking is an art which can only be completed with the last ingredient, Love. Without which it will always be the substance for survival only. Now I make it a point to add a little of love and a little of affection every time I cook. Next time you cook an omelet, try cooking it in butter and yes the most important ingredient Love.

(Published in NewsFront Weekly in 2011)

A Nameless Poem

(photo courtesy:- Mr. Abishesh Joshi)

The torment was unbearable,

but the sweetness of the hour

kept me going,

the existence was so concealed,

still the inflame called desire

burnt the fire within.

In the darkness of the night,

a voice knocked at the door of life,

so baffled I was to invite,

coz Lucifer are always in disguise.

Now the voice is in comfort,

telling me the harmonious affairs,

the thoughts are tuned,

and I started feeling this is

someone I knew.

Now the talks seems endless,

taking the center stage one

after another,

making the best sense ever,

never realized so much patience to hear.

All this while I didn't apprehend,

that its a voice of a friend,

a person I know just as an echo,

but compelling me to be intrusive.

Unforeseeable what life is,

can't affirm where we will be,

but a promise my friend,

forever you stay in the heart

of this voice on the other end.