My World

Sounds like the popular phrase: I have a dream by Martin Luther King, does it not? Or rather the past tense of it. But do not worry: it is not. This is about a dream I actually had. When I was in pre-school, our school was situated in Kupondole, near Campion School. I wanted to see how the building looked after all these years. I wanted to see how my old school looked. And I found the building too; I found my old school building. I recognized it instantly amidst all the others. Older, the color faded, somewhat smaller than what I remembered: because let’s face it: to a 4 year old, that area seemed huge! Almost, as in a trance, memories began to flood back in, those days when we would play in the ground, our classes, my favorite teachers, the picture of the dog that I had worked so hard on, those games when we had to pick off the candy tied on the strings with only our teeth. Hey, don’t ask me how I remember all this even at 4-5 years old; I just happen to have a badass memor

The historic city of Bhaktapur is not too far to go and see at only 13 km from Kathmandu. But once you get there, there are a full fledge of things to do and places to go! Pack a bag and get your ride ready because I’m about to tell you how to spend an awesome day in Bhaktapur. I suggest you go early; the ride to Bhaktapur is another journey in itself, one of the best roads to travel, unless there is no traffic of course! Take a right turn from Sallaghari and up the Nagarkot road: straight past the army school. Take a stroll around the Sidhhapokhari first! The pond is serene and calm to take a walk around in the morning and come back in the evening if you want to. Feed the fishies here! Past the Siddhapokharai, some metres further, you will come to the entrance of the Bhaktapur Durbar Square. Bhaktapur Durbar Square is the biggest among the three durbar squares in the valley and is a beauty in itself. Spread over the durbar square is the famous 55 window palace an

This is based on a true story . I got your attention now, don’t I? Unlike horror films that use this one liner to creep out their audiences, this is actually based on a true story and no less than horror, if you ask me. Our story starts some 15 years ago, in a hospital: yes, in hospital; bear with me. I was staying overnight at the hospital with my elder sister who had just given birth to a baby boy. She was to be kept under observation. I stayed the night with her. It must have been around 7:15 am the next morning. I was woken up by some noises. It was an emergency. I glanced at my sister. Thankfully, the noises had not stirred her. I went to see what the commotion was all about. I didn’t have to search long. The delivery of the woman had just ended and doctors were heading out of the room. She ended up in our room about half an hour later. I stole a look at her, she looked tired, pained but most of all unattended. There was no one to accompan

  I only learnt to speak Newari when I was about 12 years old or so; I’m not proud to admit that. Before that, I would only understand a word or two a few phrases here and there, the classic : my name is ……. But I could never carry a conversation with fluency in Newari. All that changed when my mother sternly said in my pre teenage phase that I need to learn our language. It took a few years, it did not happen overnight. But I can speak with fluency now. Looking back, I’m really grateful that my mother made me do it. However, I’m not here to boast about my speaking, right? The point is learning a new language can be a drag. Be it Newari, Tamang, Limbu, or the many others in our country. And we do not really need to learn all of those, do we? Besides our native language, let us also give priority to speaking and conversing in our cultural language. Why? Why am I emphasizing on this when all Nepalese people can speak Nepali since birth. I take it to that. But here is the d