someone just asked me, how much i miss my son........how can this question be answered
just counting the days
minutes
and seconds even
to hold him in my arms
will he come?

A blank page, staring at me again. Well today whole day.....I spent analyzing English women's magazine in Nepal, VOW. its getting interesting. i am now finding emerging patterns which I could form as my arguments........uhuh......its read write, read write, cycle...........never ending. I am enjoying so far...........

This morning, this whole episode of rebooking my ticket blew my mind. I am still scared that supervisor hasn't got back with the travel form. what am I ought to do if I don't get the travel grant, I will blow away all my savings. K garne! k garne!!

I am missing my son as usual.
It has turned into a hidden wound! but yet so so obvious. his picture is everywhere. I remmeber him everytime. Everyday, I ask my husband to tell me stuffs about my babu. Since he arrives only few months ago, he has more memories of babu than me. we keep on talking, how babu would do that, how he would say that, how he would feel and so on.

sometimes, we create an imaginary picture of babu and discuss different situations as if babu was right here in front of us.

Being far away from son, I can see how much a child means to mother. I can also see how much I meant to him. I at times feel guilty at my decision, in which I had very little choice. The decision was mine, as it sounded the best at the time. Now perhaps, its time to be together with my son whatever it takes. I have experimented two semesters without him and I can see that his absence is more dangerous to my peace of mind...........

I am now more than ready to play the role of 'back to uni' mother...........yeah, I am

Need to write everyday hehehe!!!

well, after reading over lots of nepali women's blog. I thought I need to do something, it means reguarly to join the community..........

After all, what else do I do except writing and reading whole whole day, living in a hole called Monash Research Graduate School. Trying to devise theories, trying to find out loopholes to criticized and bending and stretching scholar's writing to fit my research interest.

I could endlessly babble about research culture in western academia...........hahaha

I need to meet my supervisor in twenty minutes, better brase up myself for whatever it comes..........hehehe!

will write again, but wonder if anything interesting or creative comes up!!!

Nepal and its ethnic politics

I am not anyhow a specialist in this issue. I am more aware about this tag of 'specialist' after being exposed to western academic environment. One cannot simply put forward any opinions or arguments, in the area that you are not specialized it. But still, I just want to write what I am feeling about Nepal's gradual turn in ethnic politics.

This issue has fuelled my mind, when suddenly I heard the news of formation of 'Newa Army'.. Indeed, Nepal is now secular country, but contrary to that, government declared that it will not support any religious festival. It fuelled protests and thus, Newars have declared Newa Army. This shows the government's insensitivity towards culture and tradition.

Though I am vegetarian, I despise Nepali governments announcement to ban 'animal sacrifice'. What it should have done was raise awareness about ills of animal sacrifice. Simply putting ban on animal sacrifice will interfere with various cultural group's age long tradition...........

Well, well, in personal front, nothing new is happening these days. Just waiting desperately to my ethics application be approved and hopefully candidature review will not pose any serious problem. which reminds me of course, to GET BACK TO WORK

Its time to start writing again, I guess...........

so many things to write, but yet so little things to experience.

probably, it is because i am writing all the time, not about my emotions, feelings and expereinces but rather doing assighnments, writing thesis. Being engaged in different genre of writing definitely has an impact on my creative expressions.

well, it seems i am not a poet anymore. They dont come........even if they come, I do not write them instantly as i used to do before.

Uhuh, and this contemplating on life, which was my hobby before, is also not so much in practice why??

Am I turning into this 'logical, pratical' person I had always feared to be...........Well, here I go, thats all for today. Need to write a long chapter on theoritical framework.

I just wonder what shubham is doing at the moment, ah, he must have woke up and be asking for food. It is still 2 months away to see him actually, to be with him and I am so despertely waiting for that day.

My son's second birthday:without me

My dear son Shubham is turning two tomorrow. and here I am far away from him. I feel immensely sad of this fact. I wish I was there with him to take him to mandir. To call the kids in neighbourhood and cut a cake. oh! to hear the kids singing happy birthday to him.

He had just learned to say 'ama' when I left Nepal for my studies. It was immensely difficult for me to concentrate on my studies without seeing the beautiful face of my son. He is lovely, he is cute. As every mother likes to beleive, I beleive that my son is special, he is very smart.

Though, I have missed the most interesting part of his childhood, I hope that I would be able to contribute in his life in other ways. The other day, I was watching 'The little Prince'. I just can't wait for Shubham to grow up a little more that I can tell him stories. But of course, I felt that my boy understands stories since he was one year old. I remember singing with him. I miss playing hide and seek with him. I remember our 'eating sesssion'. He loved watching dogs and I had to feed him saying that, if he won't eat, dog will eat. Then, later I thought that would make my child turn into a greedy boy, one who takes the things thinking that other people will take that from him. Then, later i started to say,'First you eat and then the dog will eat too'.

Little things, small things matter so much to me. In this age of violence and terrorism, it is every so risky to raise a child. Also I think parenting is becoming every more complex day by day. The values and practices of parenting are changing. The way my parents raised me, I appreciated it. They have always supported me and loved me. My parents generation beleived that children should be kept in control. There was very much less communication between children and parents. These ideas are gradally shifting. Now, I beleive the only effective way to raise a child is with open communication, with lots of love and trust.

I don't know whether this blog will last or not, till my son would be old enough to read this with his very eyes. I hope he does, someday. I am bearing this seperation keeping the words of my honorable dizzu, Angur Baba Joshi's words, ' It is not the quantity of time but the quality of time you spend with your children' that matters. She also had to leave her children for a long time to complete her studies in U.K.

I am lucky in the sense that my parenst are looking after my son so well. I am lucky, I have always been lucky. Its all about feeling lucky. I hope Shubham grows up into a good human being. I have no expections of him being rich. I do expect him to be smart of course. I hope he would grow up as a wonderful person, who cares about other people. I hope my son would be open to people. I hope he would know that life is all about love and care. It is all about what we can give, what we can share with others. I hope that he would gain all the good qualities of his father, that I admire so much. I want him to grow up as patient, dedicated, warm, caring and lovely person as his father is. I don't know about my attributes. I don't have any special attributes to speak of. And yes, I wish he would be patient and loyal to his beleifs like my father. I wish he would learn the meaning of unconditional love from my mother.

In all these expectations and expectations, now I realize that there is very little place for Shubham to be what he wants to be and what he simply is. Thus, Shubham in this day, I feel that you will be what you are and what you want to be. I will love you just the same, the way you are. You have brought so much happiness in our lives. You are indeed Shubham: the lucky, the auspicious one. May god bless you on this wonderful day. Happy Birthday dear!!!!

One inspiring film: Spectatator

These past s 5 months in Australia, I have probably watched most amount of film, I have ever watched in my whole life. Partly because of loneliness, partly because of tiredness and dullness of academic life, I love to watch films. Some films are just fun. You watch a$nd forget. But some films make a lasting impressions in your life. I think, I will forever . remember this Italian movie: Spectator.

The girl secretly watches her neighbour everyday. He is her companion, that she never dares to have. She is lonely. She follows him sometimes, without any serious intention. One day, she knows the man is moving to Rome. On an impulse she takes a train to Rome. She had accidently discovered the man's work address. There she meets a woman, with whom her man has relationship. The girl purposively gets bruished by the woman's car. Then, strike up an aquaintance. Somehow, the girl ends up working after woman. The relationship between man and woman ends somehow. The man begins to be aware about the girl. One day, he waits up for her, just to meet her. He goes after her and says that: I don't know why i am following you, and you don't know me'. That moment is the most intense scene in the film. The girl falls into man's arm and cries and says, 'don't say anything'. At this point, it seems they will have now an happy ending together or get married or something like that. But girl leaves Rome to leave to Turin, where she came from. She leaves a letter explaining everything to woman. But woman does not say anything to man. The man knows she has gone back without explaining and puzzled.

The ending of the film is puzzling, but surprisingly familiar. The spectator is about loneliness, about fear. About how difficult it is to get someone who can understand you in your life. How sensitive relationships are. It also deals with the myth of 'impossible love'. In my analysis, the woman wants to preserve the memory that the man indeed came after her and wanted to know her and may be even love her. But she does not want to pursue a relationship with him, though that was highly possible. She was probably afraid that the memory she has of him, will turn different if she has a relationship with him in real. She just wanted a relationship with him as a spectator. It is a safe relationship, a kind in which you need to know only about your own feelings. The spectator doe snot need to care about the one who is being 'spectatored'

The movie left with me a deep sense of loss to see that the girl did not go back to the man. She did not encourage him in any way, though every emotions in her wanted that relationship to happen.

I admire the way Italian films show human relationships; in raw, in reality. Showing that there are various possibilities to end. And like life, Italian films mostly have no proper endings.

In the beginning, I started this blog to publish my poems online, which i was not able to publish in print. It was a good choice then. But since, it seems i am not poet any more, Poems doesnt seem to come these days. May be dry analytical thinking of academic world has dried all poetry in me. Well, may be i will start writing again, I hope. Just I think, now i should start writing about my experiences about life in general. About myself, my friends. about this world. About love, hate. About risk, changes. About depression, about motivation. All sorts of things. Well, someone may read, but I will be writing for myself. To make myself clear who I am. What I am; thinking, What i am feeling. A new form of 'diary'. In my gender studies course, this year we studied about a victorian couple, who wrote about their relationships. They wrote diaries everyday, describing every single event in their lives. Well, those diaries survived the time and now became a miror of victorian society. May be all this blogging around this world, when we are no more, our blogs would still survive. I think that's important hehe. I may not be able to write anything substantial, but still it is something.

An Invitation to Dream

All these years,
I was dreaming,
On my own.
Dreams were the only
Exciting part of my,
Ordinary Life.

Then, suddenly,
You invited me to dream together.
What was that you said?
Yes,
“Dream is like a drug,
But it never killed anyone”
Yes, let’s create dream together.

The vision is clear now.
A small house,
Surrounded with garden.
And sweet chuckles of laughter,
Of our naughty children.
That’s where, I see you.
So, lets be lost in the game of dream.
Chase me dear, with your dream.

Once when, I had asked something,
You had said, “ask me, when I will reach 50”.
No, I can see you when you will be 50.
With grey hair and spectacles.
But still beside me,
And smiling with,
Love and Amusement.

Please Don’t WAKE ME UP

Let's Chase the Rainbows Down the Hill

The dreams will fade,
When reality kills the memories.
In the grind of everyday life,
We will brew some more frustrations.
We will blame each other.
For not meeting our expectations.
Then, a slow realization will dawn:
What a failure our marriage has become!

Before all this happens,
Let’s think once more.
Let’s save the fees of the lawyer.
And avoid horrid scenes in the courtroom.
And not get married at all.
Life is too short.
To spend it in confinement.
Love should be free.
Shouldn’t be bounded
With a relationship.

So, let’s chase the rainbows down the Hills.
Catch few colors in our eyes.
Let’s store them in our heart.
And see each with the other's eye.
It would be like a dream coming true.
At the end of the day,
Let’s exchange photos.
And keep it hidden inside our pillow.
That way, memories will live on forever,
Like the fragrance of wild flowers,
We picked on the way.
That day!

My Walnut Man

My walnut man,
If only you knew
There's nothing wrong,
To be soft and to show, dear!
That you are soft.

My walnut man,
It's time you learnt,
How nice it is,
To care and to share one's feelings,
Without fear.
My walnut man,
Things your eyes speak,
Will be clear,
If you use words,
To express, my dear!


My walnut man,
Learn to act.
Isn`t it boring,
Just to react.
I am tired of guessing.


My walnut man,
Soft inside and tough outside.
You can't fool me any longer.
My walnut man,
Sweet inside and bitter outside,
This shouldn't go any further.


My walnut man,
Beware of me!
I have turned into a nut now.
Its time we exchanged our roles.
From now on, you act,
I will just react.

Can You Do This?

I wish there was a flood!
And I could flow on with it,
With all residues of,
My negative feelings.
And after the heavy rain subsides,
Turn myself into fertile land,
Where your love could grow.

It's not that I didn't like you.
What I am afraid is,
You liked me!
Despite everything.
Despite of me not being myself anymore.
I am surprised!
That day, when I met you.
Or it was, when you met me.
That hollow laugh, I excluded.
"Beautiful," you said.
I stopped suddenly and looked at you.
While handing sugar for your coffee mechanically.
"How caring," you thought.
And revealed it later.
I don't know ,
How could I have touched your heart.
While I never intended to.
The bond you want to share,
Is not possible.
Yes, not till the storm comes.

I wish, I just wish there was a storm.
A very big storm.
I want to be broken,
I want to be shattered to the core.
And after the tranquility returns.
I want you to reconstruct me.
Mould me for your love.
Shape me into your emotions.
And recreate another "Me."
Can you do this?

Actor and Director

No need to put on a show,
No, don't present another drama.
Your screenplay is marvelous,
I must say!
And your direction too good.
The actors, they seemed real.
Though, I am the only to know.
That they are actors.
All hired!
And all acting in fear of being fired.

And still you claim!
That you are free from blame.
Oh! Shame on you man!
All these years
I thought you were,
What you really
Showed yourself to be.

Your charismatic smile,
Won many curious hearts.
Your inspiring speech,
Made people inspire.
What you didn't have ,
Was not worth having.
What you didn't know ,
Was not worth knowing.
And like hundreds of other people,
I was on a spell!
Cast over by you!
Hypnotized, lacking my own mind.
I turned myself to a shadow.
Making you, my image!
The glistening sun you were.
I became its rays.
And I used to say,
I would be the one like you.

But how was that possible?
The shadow I was.
And you wanted me,
To remain that way!
Clearing your path!
Smoothing the obstacles.
Writing out the speeches,
That you read aloud.
In that exciting voice.
Sleeplessly I worked!
Up and down going over,
The long stairs of establishment.

The whole society is blind.
I just wish it was deaf,
Completely deaf.
It is a curse that,
They hear the loudest tone.
They like the charismatic voice,
And makes it wear the crown of leadership.
Then, you were right,
In whatever you said!
You were right,
In whatever you did!
Then, your hands began to touch,
Where they never should.
I couldn't tolerate.

It was the day!
I decided to be free from your spell.
The day I decided to be
My own image,
The day, I decided to end your hold.
Yes, it wasn't easy!
But I did it!
And struck you!
I struck you!
Hard and harder!
In the head of petty thoughts!
In that hand of illegal trespass.

Though the story was mine,
Unfortunately, screenplay was yours.
Actors were hired.
And you were hero once more.
I became the villain.
Now, shut away behind the bars.
I have no regrets.
I am as peaceful as ocean!
As clear as the blue sky!

Now again!
You are staging another drama.
But beware!
I now have a confidence to be a director!
And you! You!
Wretched you!
You will be a mere actor.
Just an actor.

Neither…………….Nor………

I am sorry, my dear.
I have let you come too near.
Now we are in great trouble.
We can neither hold each other,
Nor forget altogether.
What a trap!
We have let ourselves into.
Yes, it was a sensation.
Nice at first to know,
That we found each other.
It was so good,
But too good to be true,
That we were so much in love.
Now, being back from wonderland,
I remember all those never-ending surprises you popped on me.
But the magic has gone.
I am back to reality.
You are no longer the prince,
As I thought,
I had kissed in my dream.