Myth of beauty

'Plain Jane'
ordinary looking girls
have to walk an extra mile
Need to smile more
Be more kinder
More compromising

While the world tell us
and asks us to believe
that beauty lies within
and not in skin
Still, we know the reality
that
While others have beauty
We need to develop
a 'character'
We need 'talent'

Then one in among of us
like Susan Boyle
Stands up to perform
While being ridiculed
Then, a silence follows soon after

Story that ended without an ending

A story

Never written

Never completed

Ended without an ending

Lingering effects

Sub effects

Constant searches

In faces

In feelings

In a mask

Sometimes

featuring in between dreams

fading in obscurity

but yet something potent

a dream of 'impossible'

is what makes it alive

Boundaries of friendship

This is dedicated to one deviant soul, the way I see her. Despite your flaws, despite my flaws. Despite the gaps, despite the spaces, despite the 'edicts' of society, we are still friends.

Friendship
is always defined
in such a glossy terms
'friend in a need'
Inspiring
Motivating
But friends,
like us are far from perfect
They are not always nice
Sometimes sarcastic
Hurtful
We judge them
They judge us
Through lenses of cynicism
codes of morality
rulers of social norms and values

There are some friends
who never ever
reach the core
there is something
always on the way
Not enough meetings
Not similar personalities
Boundaries
lot of cross over

Friendship also has lot of layers
We say it takes time
to grow, to blossom
to mellow
and perhaps to die

We categorize friendship
'best'
'hi hellos'
'occasional'
And there are few 'instant' ones
In a moment, in a way
On a way to travel
Then, gone !
We never keep in touch
We never talk
But it is there
Perhaps it is the 'illusion'
of the moment
That keeps on cherishing
Wanting to make few more memories

Some friendships
are stories of broken bond
Forgotten times
and wishes
and sad memories
which we never revisit and
reclaim
We never dare to say sorry
or I was wrong
But we prod along
High and mighty
judging them from superior airs
Some defiant brave soul
When they break the taboo
When they do not conform
I pay tribute to one
special deviant soul
Who dared,
I remember you as a defiant
Whom I admire
Whom I dare 'not to be'
I want you to know
That though there have been gaps
and paces
and spaces
and now boundaries
I wish, we had been friends
I still hope, we are

Who is the real teacher

This poem is dedicated to my son Shubham. He reverses the way I see parenting. I see that the children are great teachers. They take us back to childhood and urge us to shed off our self importance and ego. They truly teach us importance of love. They teach us how to love without a reason, without expectation

I am confused
who teaches whom?
On one hand, I stand
with 'worldly wisdom'
with the 'harsh' realities
of this violent world
On the other hand
is my son
Still pure
Untainted
Free
Innocent
Full of trust
Love
Devoid of scepticism
Without pretence
Without 'ego'

I pretend to be teacher
To teach him
What is bad?
And what is good
I answer his endless
Questions of 'what is that'
He never asks 'why'
Coz, his world is still free of logic
And reason
It’s all about emotions
Instinct
Sixth Sense
He is still close
To divine
Close to earth
He is still grounded

So, who will teach whom
I wonder
Who is the real teacher?
Me, being so disillusioned
By the world
Me, so lacking trust
Me, so full of 'ego'
And self importance
Or you still pure
Untarnished
Unblemished by the cruel ways of world.

When you smile
It comes within
It is not stuck in between lips
Just to show
You do not expect anything in return
when you hug me
You still live in happy world of imagination
Where elephants fly
Lions speak
Full of Chocolates
And Fairies
Sometimes, demons lurk in between
There are 'bad men' too
You know that
But you believe that good always wins

Perhaps we both come halfway
And teach each other
You will learn some harsh realities
I know
But yet never forget the
World of dreams and imagination
You teach me how to smile
straight from heart
To shed off my ‘ego’
And most important of all
To love without expectation

On our fourth anniversary

It is for you . I am lucky to have you in my life. I can only explain, what i feel but still I can't pin point, what exactly it is.


With you
there were no promise of stars
It was different from romantic
novels
i read
You were not the dashing hero
that I dreamt of
You were hidden somewhere
yet always visible
but we never noticed each other

Must be destiny
now, that
we are together
We have no poems for each other
Like an ordinary couple
we are not seen putting arms on each other
we do not blush
We do not proclaim love
we are unorthodox couple

People have asked us
whether ours is
arranged or love marriage
Answers are never easy
As it is something in between
Perhaps relationship
brought through divine matchmaker

We did not love instantly
It is something more complicated
than this much hyped
'love' that we feel for each other.
Apart from love
we are more worried about
peace
our country
We have a common mission
and goal
Instead of musing on our
love for each other
We rather discuss
What to write next
We inspire each other
to do something positive
To contribute


Thus, we are hopeless
change makers
Constantly striving to learn
To change ourselves
to better ourselves
and thus
aiding each other in this process

Bounded in this difficult
institution called marriage
We often act conventional
husband and wife
and pretend that we conform
But what matters most
is that inner friendship we have
The trust
The sense of responsibility
Understanding
Is that what they call 'love'
Perhaps,
I am not sure
But, does it matter
whatever it is called?

Is motherhood a choice for Nepali women?

For Nepali women, motherhood is both a source of agency and subjugation. It is a source of agency because as it is only through status of a mother, specially that of son, a Nepali women can enjoy a higher status in her family and society. I am speaking from vantage point of middle class upper caste women like myself, based on my personal experience and observations. This may not be true for every other Nepali women.

How far Nepali women have a choice when to become mothers or be mothers at all? There is very little choice. It is because motherhood is so much seen as an ultimate fulfillment of femininity. Every women is somehow considered a natural mother. It is regarded as an ultimate goal for every woman. Looking at motherhood as an individual like myself, it is full of contradictions. The first contradiction on general belief of motherhood is that it is natural. It is regarded that every woman when given birth to child, acquires the art and craft of motherhood. However, motherhood is learnt by social behavior, norms, values and also the generational knowledge handed over by previous generation. Reflecting on my own journey towards motherhood I see that it is a life long course which I have partly learnt through my mother's lessons, friends counsel, neighbour's heresay, mass-media, literature and to some extent my own lived and embodied experience. Thus, I claim that I am not a natural mother, I have learnt to become a mother.

Another contradictions which I have faced constantly due to my life choices is belief in 'intensive motherhood'. Intensive motherhood ideology preaches that only mothers are the best persons to look after their children. It believes that mothers should be available to children all the time especially in their early years. The lack of that will consequently lead to serious psychological effects on child. This is a sensitive topic for me to dwell on. My decision to come to Melbourne for further studies led me to leave my 18 months old son in my parent's care. Several times, I have been branded as 'over ambitious' and 'career oriented' and sometimes even cruel. I was caught in between my ambition and motherhood. I knew that opportunity does not knock the door twice. I was in crossroads of my career which was again mediated by my motherhood. After I became mother, I chose to work only when I could. Thus, I saw myself being stagnant in my career for couple of years. Thus, I either had to choose this or be prepared to be stagnant for some other years to come.

Another big factor in motherhood of Nepali women is son vs daughter debate. Recently I had got hold of Chinese calendar which gives a list of best year and month to conceive daughter or son. Some of my friends had used it and become successful to bear son, they never tried it for a daughter. I sometimes hear that ' It is women themselves who want to bear son'. I say, they do because we have to look at how women with daughters only are treated. I remember one of my friend whose first born was daughter. Her husband was only son in the family. She was afraid that her husband will be marrying another woman if she does not bear him son. That is why, Nepali women, even so called educated career oriented women sometimes opt to have a son rather than daughter. However, there is some other debate going on which argues that ' daughter are much better than son, as son leave their home anyway these days' . One of the main reason for son preference in Nepal is our tendency to see them as our insurance for old days. The present trend shows that this belief is gradually crumbling down. I wish that Nepal abolishes its heir system in which only sons can inherit parental property. It is an irony that parents work hard to earn property which ultimately passes over to their sons. It will take a long time when ultimately Nepal could have a will system of inheritance.

Thus, there is a long way to go for Nepali women in having agency in their motherhood. It is still debated whether one needs to become mother at all to be fulfilled. There are women like Mother Teresa who choose to remain barren but became mother of millions of improvised children. It is

Maoist women's future

Everybody has a opinion about what is happening in Nepal and why. It is such a complex issue to argue and talk about. Thus, I do not have any distinct opinion or argument in it. At this time, I am thinking about my participants and their future. I interviewed 10 Maoist women about their motherhood experiences. Most of them were in cantonment. They were engaged in 'people's war' in several ways ranging from issues of domestic violence to ideological commitments towards class less society. I see Maoist women's integration in Nepali society most problematic of all. They have defied the social norms and codes of Nepali society by being engaged in armed struggle. Contrary to men, who have always been seen as warriors and dissents in Nepali political history. What will happen to these women? Would they go back to carrying arms again? What about their children, will they turn into another generation of rebels? Will these women women be ever accepted as wives, dauthers and dauthers-in-law in our society?

Me and my mother

Sometimes, I just wonder how I have let life slip through my fingers. Am I indulging myself too much. Should I be more duty conscious? Should I be more responsible. But again, these are such ambiguous terms. Especially these all lamentations come, when I see my role as a mother. I am a mother, who is so different from my own mother. My mother, whose sole purpose in life was to look after her husband and children. sometimes she tells me, ' oh, life is so easy for you girls today. You no longer have to do chores like we used to. You don't have strict mother-in-law like me'.

When I compare my life with my mother, I see times have indeed changed. She is one driving force behind this change. Everytime when I wanted to enter the kitchen to cook something or just fool around, she would say' I could not study, I have nothing else to do apart from this. You have to study, so that you will not end up like me'. She always encouraged me to be something. Apart from other mothers of my friends, she never was interested for finding good husband for me. but rather she beleived that I should be financially independent. My father was a patriarch in true sense. He controlled me, but in such a way that I reach my goals. I make the best of what I could do. I still remember, almost a decade ago, he called me for a serious meeting. I was about to graduate then. He asked ' what do you want in you life. If you want to marry and have kids and be housewife, now is the time for that. But, if you want to study more and make a career, you could do that. But you have to be ready to accept that you may not find a good husband. As you know that in Nepal, men don't want to get married with women who are more educated or career oriented than them'. I said, what my father wanted me to say and knew that I would say:' I choose career'.

Thus, now, I am in this lop sided balance of motherhood and career, which is not vs but somehow complements each other. It is a difficult balance that many women choose or forced to choose. Just few weeks ago, I read buchi emecheta's ' Joys of motherhood'. The first book I ever read that discussed about the daily lives of black women. The central character in the book had to become mother to be accepted as a woman. But again, sometimes her motherhood became a chain that she could not break free from. At the end, struggling through out her life for her children, she dies. But none of her children are able to look after her in her most difficult old age. She dies, alone. But then, her sons perform the most expensive funeral ever. What is the point?

The blog post, does not make sense even to me. It is a series of uncordinated ideas, which has been happening a lot while I write thesis. I come to blog, when I just want to write and not being cared about providing a good argument. It is my friend, who would listen, even if i have the most silliest thing to say. I am happy for discovering this outlet

Melbourne river cruise and street performer in southgate

This weekend was rollicking. On saturday, we had dinner with A and C with their sweet baby girl of six months. She was hugging and kissing shubham all the time. May be she was missing her brother, who is of same age as shubham. On sunday morning, we went to city for cruise. It was not a cruise as such. We had promised shubham to take him in ship, but we later discovered that it was not a ship but just a ferry. But shubham was so excited to see ferry riding over the water. Now, he has experienced yet another dimension of his passion. He is passionate about anything that moves, especially vehicles. Planes, helicopters, car, buses are his favourate word. When, we lack of ideas and time for planning any weekend trips, we would just take him for a ride in any bus or train, he would be happy just because of that. Till date, his knowledge of vehicle was of anything that moves on the road and sky. Now, he knows its possible to have ship, boat and ferry in water. Ship is now the keyword for him this week. He wants to get in the ship, a bigger ship next time, he says. Well, may be, lets see

Then after our trip back from yarra river cruise by ferry, which we considered ship, we got some free street entertainment. At the side of southgate precinct in city, a street performer was performing tricks. He swallowed 1 meter long balloon. He asked people to tie his hands, legs, and he was put on a sack and again bounded by a nylon rope and iron chain. After the pressure and excited got mounting with every bondage that increased on him, he got excited much more but Shubham started getting frightened. So this man will be the next thing for shubham. I guess, every parent sometimes use some 'fear factor' on their children when no coaxing, persuading works. So, probably, this 'chained man' will be his next 'hau guji'. I am not so much in favour of using fear to persuade children. But despite reading all parenting books and despite all the knowledge in book, there comes a time in a parents life when they begin to search for 'last resort' and usually it is the use of this 'fear factor'. It has been happening with us lately. Despite our very sweet, cute gentle and best mannered boy, as described by everyone who has seen him, only we know how difficult and how exhausting he can be at times. But , of course, shubham is shubham and we don't want him to be any different.

Coffe club with Shubham

Shubham today joined the rank of monash postgraduates. I took him to MPA coffee club that my buddy organizes. He has always been passionate about 'monash' at his tender age of 3. Everyday, when he sees his stroller leaving the way to go to monash, he laments ' i want to go to monash, take me to monash'. He will be happy just to go visit library, pick movies and sometimes to play with library computers.

Earlier days in January, when semester did not start, we used to put him over in one of those high chairs of Multimedia library and he would watch cartoon. He would put headphone in his head bigger than his head and watch like a very good boy. But later, he started to shout and cry and started treating monash like home. Then, it started become risky and we no longer do that.

Anyway, these experiences shows me that children learn so much more from exposure. I made a wise decision to bring him over to Melbourne. Now, he knows the distinction between Nepal and Australia. He misses his grandparents. Sometimes, when he is angry with us, ( he does that a lot, he twitches his eyes, flexes his cheeks and declares ' I am angry' ) . Then, he declares" I will catch a train to southern cross, then take a sky bus and then go to airport and take a plane to Nepal'. What a big threat!!!

The most patient supervisor in the world

I am lucky. I am writing a thesis, which is as complicated as I am, which is as unpredictable as I am. but I have a very patient supervisor, who undertands 'high' and 'low' of research cycle. She encourages me everytime and reassures me that I am doing a great job. It is her sole faith in me that keeps me going and writing. AS the submission date is looming near, I find myself cringing with fear. 3 months left whew, three months left to submit, three months left to pack, three months left to be back home, to my kathmandu, to my nepal, to my parents.

Quest for name and fame

Written few weeks ago, still unedited, lacking enthusiasm to edit it anyway. This speaks about me, and lot of other people. But I was uncomfortable to post it as I thought it will be directly linked with me. But now, I don't want to deny my quest for finding my own 'niche', doing something good for the world, being known as expert of at least one obscure thing. What can anyone do anything new anyway? Americans have already been to moon, Arundhati Roy already wrote a book that got her booker Prize. So, is there nothing left to be done? That's what plagues most of us ordinary beings, who just dream, who do not work, but just aspire to be someone without doing nothing. I am trying my best not to be end up like this.

When one is surrounded
by Whiz kids
by role models
by Heroes ( including women)
There is always a gnawing thought inside
That eats me little everyday

I see my hair graying
My body expanding
A slow realization dawns
I have become nothing
I have become no one

I have not been able to leave my marks
I will not be in pages of history
I will not be remembered
I will not be applauded

I have not found my 'niche'

I am not an expert of
a single obscure issue

What is this
This quest for fame
This quest for name
That restlessly pushes me

Isn't that is what pushes
our power hungry politicians
Our religious fanatic gurus
Our savvy stars

But then, do we work
just for its sake
or for its rewards?

Poem is just about anything. I saw one lady crying in WIRE office, I don't know the reason. I could not find out. But still, I find the idea fascinating that she after all came to the right place, where she will be listened to. Sometimes, women need a space to cry, just to cry and cry.

Life is a pain

at times

things go wrong

Problems pile up

one after another

One disaster complements another

I cannot bear it anymore

I cannot hide it anymore

I cannot ignore it anymore

I need someone to talk to

But I was alone

No one to ask

No one to talk to

I wish I had

just someone to hold on

Someone just to listen to me

While I cry

Someone to hand over the

tissue

and say' I know'

'I understand'

'I know what you feel'

But where is this person

Who would listen to me

even without knowing me

Without judging

Without prejudice

Then walking over

to get coffee

in lonsdale street

Busy street of melbourne

I just entered into WIRE

Someone asked me there

'How are you'

That caring voice

opened the flood within me

I cried

I cried

and I cried even more

I had reached the right place

to be listened

not to be helped

to enable me to 'help myself'

This poem is dedicated to one of my very good friend, Handun. Thank you dear for all that you have been to me. Even poems cannot express!

Someday

Somewhere

Discovering someone

who is 'no one'

in the beginning

and gradually with succession of

lunch, laughter and 'girl talk'

we gradually bond

How long does it take

for stranger to

turn into 'friends'

and then again 'friends'

to turn into 'best friends'

Is it a slow progression

that happens over discussion of

recipes

academic discussion

personal dilemmas

With you it happened

With abrupt halts and progression

It happened slowly

Gradually

Our friendship is growing

Blooming

Mellowing

But yes,

'goodbye' time is coming too

But, It is just a physical separation

In my corner of heart

You will always remain

In a safe compartment

You have a room of your own

Which no one can claim

Different culture

Different taste

Different countries

Different language

Different personalities

Yet friendship happens

It is because of you

that this 'unknown' land is

not strange anymore

I am gradually feeling

that I 'belong' here

Another recovered one again! I am excavating and opening some closed closets and finding some treasures, which are my own! well may be dream for anthology is not that far now! good!

This time,
When we meet,
I will ask no questions,
And don't you offer any answers.
Just let the thudding beat of hearts,
Speak the language of passion.

I will lock the past in closet.
And don't you probe,
the future prospects.
Lets not wear watch that day,
Let our feelings set its own timing.

Let's not speak,
Let the silence prevail.
And let it remain that way,
Soft and cool.
Hiding the burning desire,
Beneath that facade.

But EYES!
our eyes,
Will decode that hidden message.
It will interpret all those silent years of longing and waiting.

Something profound will happen that day.
The hidden volcano,
Buried inside our heart,
The lava of love
Will spill out.
BANG!
EXPLOSION!
Everything will be submerged in throes of passion.

So, what's the use of these
Questions and answers.
Of past and future.
Of problems and solutions.
Of certainity and confusions.

That instant moment,
Everything will be clear.
Everything!!!

But that day,
Oh! that day,
When would be that day?
Perhaps, this november

It was somewhere in between the year of 2004 I wrote this I am sure. I laugh while I read this. I recovered it suddenly! amazingly!

.....................................................
I am sick and weary
Of hoping and coping.
With your inbearable attitude,
And I am myself
Tired of this waiting,
Caring and raving,
For your little words,
small kindness
And tiny gestures.

Now at this point,
I find myself asking.
Why me? always me?
To start something,
To share something.
Yes, it has been me all along.

You are always,
Shut like a clam.
Speaking nothing.
Like a dark mirror,
You reveal nothing.

Ok, be the way you are.

But, I am tired of this game.
I am sick of this,
Role of faithful admirer of yours.

It's time, I start beleiving,
That no mattter how much anyone tries,
It's impossible to ,
Love without condition.

I am tired of this,
Self-sacrificing love.
I am afraid.
To turn into martyr.

Something in my heart,
Breaks now.
I hear a silent crash.
Yes, my dreams have broken.
Faiths have shaken.
And my positive attitude has,
Desolved in thin air.
Which I had rebuild after such a long time.

My thoughts are always,
Full of gloom and doom.
And I am desperately worried.
That's why I sent you that message,
" Don't worry, be happy"

Kathmandu

I miss you

despite your dirty streets

pollution in the air

that flares my nostrils

I even love

countless hours of load shedding you have

I love your darkened streets

I love your candle lit homes

Where we all hunch together to talk

Where we switch of television and

suddenly 'channel war' between siblings

cease to exist

I love you for your spontaneity

Everyday when I am out of my home to work

I can never predict

whether I will reach to work in time

One single incident

like a bike

hit by a car

turns into a 'class war'

in few minutes

Tyres burning all around

Slogans

In an hour, we face 'Bandhas'

I even love these

"Bandhas'

When I can sit back

and blame all those

good for nothing politicians

Life is surely hard

Dark

Dangerous

in Kathmandu

But never for a minute

it lulls us into nothingness

There is always something to be angry about

There is always something to be happy about

And aren't these emotions important!

That is what keeps us alive after all

These strong emotions,

for me, it is a sign that I live

In contrast,

Imagine living in a city

When everyday,

You know that you are going to reach to work in time

when everyday you take the same bus

Or same train

You never speak

Everyone has a book to read

No one shouts and no one screams

There is however always a blank stare

That tells me 'you do not belong'

In Kathmandu, I dare to shout

When I am in a crowd of people

I lose myself,

But also there are stares that follows me

There are gossips that tracks me

I am 'someone' in Kathmandu

Thus, It is Kathmandu where I belong

Where I eat 'chana chatpate' on the way to campus

Where I haggle and bargain for 2 Rs

Where I get wet when car passes by me and

bestows me with a muddy water

Then I shout

Then I curse

and move along

Yes, it is Kathmandu

Where I truly belong

This is something i wrote long time ago, in my ' lonely abroad days'. I rediscovered it suddenly shuffling pages of my old diary. My eyes are still moist!

In this train
that goes somewhere
I am going nowhere
reaching nowhere

Without you
There is no journey
I am travelling towards a big void

I came from somewhere
to reach nowhere
It seems my life is
just standstill

It is just same morning
That I don't want to wake up to
I don't have your loving embrace
to refresh me

I have no one
Here, in this 'abroad'
To share, to care

This long distance love
based on emails
and occasional minute calls

I live only in these moments
your words ,
news from home.

I see shubham in your words
I am hugging him through your words

My son far away
from my bosom,
from my embrace

I am just a far distant voice
for him in a mobile phone
I see his childhood growing
in my husband's emails

Each year
at this day,
Present year ends
and new year begins
In between that,
We grow little older
Little saner
Lets not talk about big changes
But think big with small deeds
Each year,
Lets review
What we were
What we are
And what we will be
Each year in wake of change
Lets review
Ourselves
Lets search that inner voice within us
To discover our true selves

Happy New Year 2066

What am I avoiding

and thus what I am confronting!

Something is going down the drain

Something is missing

Something is being destroyed

Something precious

as we both recognize

Something we are killing

softly

with our indifference

With our 'small talk'

of trivial matters

Price of Stupidity!

what is the price

One can pay for

Stupidity

For not knowing

an outcome

For every mistake done,

It is not mistake in the beginning

Rather it is a possibility

which might either turn into success

Or failure

or something that is neither

but in the middle of both

So, if one does not dare

One does not risk

What will be the outcome

No actions

No outcome!

No risks

No mistakes

Thus,

I paid a price today

Literally something big

but still small for peace of my mind

I should let this go!

Dollar

Dollar Dollar

A price in dollars

Converted to Nepali don't know

how much it would be

Thus, I am speaking

Literally and figuratively

At this moment,

I am just thinking

Of various other prices

I have paid for daring

For thinking

For taking risks

But I would continue doing it

I know

But I would have rather liked

to pay this 'huge' price

to someone who had truly

benefited from it

I wished I could have a choice

to give it like 'donation'

Be a saint outside

while hiding my sin within

Isn't what people do all the time

at least some group of people

committing sins all their life

being corrupted

And when end approaches

They wish to go to pilgrimage

Take a bath in 'ganga'

to wash of their sins?

Suddenly, this came over me, while writing my data when my participants discuss about their labour pain. I was astounded by the fact that how reluctant Nepali women are to admit how hard it is to give birth and face labour pain. It is because I argue that we are always taught to embrace pain. As one of my participant says, ' you have to accept pain, you are a woman'. Hence here is a poem, or rather a ranting about pain!!

It is a pain

to be a womanand

yet to pretend that

there is no pain

Every month

for four days

Pain comes in different forms

impurity

untouchability

It seems

women are saddled by whole world of pain

Women, are said

to be lucky to be able to give birth

Some women, on pretentious voice

say, 'it is wonderful'

to be pregnant

to have labour pain

to give birth

But we never admit

It is pain,

To carry a bulk within you

being responsible for it always

because 'child always comes first'

Hundreds of 'ante natal' classes

yoga

breathing exercises

would never prepare you to face

pain during labour

However it is lessened

when you join the chorus

of other women who are crying with pain

In hospital room

Where it is ignored

Shouted at

Suppressed

Bullied

But we cry from pain nonetheless

We form sudden empathy and support

Us, who chose to

And who did not chose to

somehow are united

with this pain

that we carry with us.

It is pain all over

that happens in our body

That happens within us

and around us

It is pain in raw level

And yet, we need to embrace this pain

Understand it

Accept it

That way, it becomes

Part of us

Then, it is no more alien

No more different

Difficult but yet acceptable

Motherhood: Academic and Personal

I have always believed 'personal is political', being a feminist. But taking that to next level, I am now experiencing 'personal is academic'. While mulling over research topic for my master's theses, the topic of motherhood appealed so much to me because I was a mother and I was facing difficulty in coming terms with it, because in a way when I decided to go ahead with further studies, I left my son. I was 'imperfect mother', 'selfish', 'career oriented'. But still, I craved for my son, I wanted to be with him but yet I knew within that i need to pursue my dreams.

That is why, I was searching for topic relating to 'difficult motherhood' like myself. Then, I came across some articles relating to Maoist women being mothers. I was immensely interested how these women experienced motherhood. They were not conventional mothers, the epitome of love and care. These women, who were combatants often went to the battlefield carrying their babies. How did they do it, how did they feel about it. I wanted to explore. It was one important way for me to make sense of my own feelings towards motherhood.

I did 10 in-depth interviews with Maoist mothers and now I am analyzing my data. I feel that I feel so closer to myself when I am working on this topic. I feel comfortable. Something rings true when these women speak to me about their experiences of leaving their children with their relatives, sometimes even strangers to ensure the safety of their child. I am still figuring out, how they see themselves as mothers. Do they face the mental battle of 'am I a good/bad mother' as most women do. How does the social beliefs about Nepali motherhood impact upon their thinking? How does the Maoist party's discourses and propoganda shape their thinking and practices of their motherhood. Well, I am going on, moving on.....................

Complexities of Parenting

This whole morning, I did not read and write a single word. We had to take Shubham to the doctor with guilty thought that he may have serious injury in his leg. We stopped trusting our instincts, we sort of blamed ourselves for what happened. My husband even had a similar dream. What a big burden parenting is at times, being totally responsible for someone so little and tender!

I am now back in my room with a great relief that he was absolutely alright and there was no serious problem. I can now work perhaps. I still haven't got my lunch. I will write and read something first and then get a go on my thesis. What a day it has been! whew!

Msytery Vs Reality

When one needs something big to do

but with very little to start with

To build a house of ideas

how to gather these small thoughts

together in a coherent way?

in structured arguments

thoughtful paragraphs

well written sentences!

I can't see piece by piece

I see things in whole

A full image

at back of my mind

scares me

what if

what i am writing

doesn't turn true to my

imagined 'image'

But still,

i must move on

tackle one step at a time

a long length of stairs

which are not ascending

but that moves ahead

with lots of bumps and holes

And there are no short cuts

We will arrive best

If we take the longer way

Harder way

They say, 'it pays most'

but How?

Still in this muddle of confusion

Still hanging around

Hovering somewhere in between

Cloud of realities!

I hope I could get back to

Mystery

A stage,

Where I wouldn't know

Where I am going

How

Why

All the suspense

Breaking down

at that final point

That anticipation

That excitement

Its not here at all

Empowerment and subjugation

Its time I slept anyway, but there is this thought in back of my mind and i wanted to make good use of it. Yesterday I had attend women's meeting in monash and I started talking a lot about Nepali women's issues and problems. Everyone was interested and wanted to learn more about that. I talked about domestic violence, women's trafficking, sexual violence and lot other issues and problems that Nepali women face, and I got an impression, or perhaps created an impression that all nepali women are subjugated, dominated and lacking of agency.

Then, I wonder whether I am turning into someone who by depicting other's owe makes a living for herself. It has always been trend that us 'western-educated' academics, professionals make out a living by 'selling' poverty and misery of people of our country.

I just need to strongly be aware that every time I talk about Nepali women, I should also talk about success stories, some women who have found empowerment, agency within structures that has hold them down: angur baba joshi, sapana pradhan malla, ram kumari jhankri, mandira sharma. Women, who have risen above their every day life and personal problems and done something really remarkable for nepali women over all. I have not been able to be one of these examples, but the best I can hope is at least I need to make it clear that I did get opportunities to be what I am today. My parents controlled me but they never discouraged me to have career. My husband has certain ideas, but I would not be where I am today without his support. So, even in a patriarchal society, there is some space, some opportunity for agency, for empowerment

http://www.nepalitimes.com.np/issue/337/Nation/13273
NationGirls of even worse character The Chelis are back with a new Declaration CHARITRAHEEN CHELIS
FROM ISSUE #337 (23 FEB 2007 - 01 MARCH 2007)
We, a hardline faction of the underground group, Charitraheen Chelis (Girls of Bad Character), have broken off and declared Nepali women autonomous.
Our breakaway faction, Jhan Charitraheen Cheli (Girls of Even Worse Character), roundly denounces the members of the original Charitraheen Cheli (See #171, #240.)
"The chelis of our mau-samuha (mother-group) did not behave badly enough," says one member of the Jhan Charitraheen Cheli. "Most are happily married, with well brought-up children. Two chelis have a steady boyfriend-meaning, one each, not one in common. And the others don't like men, or even women," she complains. "For example, after the 2005 coup they called for a sex boycott till the reinstatement of democracy-but they forgot to call off the boycott after April 2006! We take this as a grave conspiracy," she adds, explaining, "that is why we had to break away and start our own underground group."
The first meeting of the Jhan Charitraheen Cheli took place mid-February in a seedy bar in Kathmandu. Our first agenda was to revisit the 40-points declaration made by our mau-samuha on 4 March, 2005, through their official mouthpieces, Nepali Times and Kantipur, both edited by dishy men. We discovered that the 40 points are pretty damn good, especially Point No. 1, which asserts our right to take up agendas solely on the basis of our wishes and needs.
After re-passing our mau-samuha's 40 points' declaration, we progressed on to other, more timely matters. Our twelve-point declaration is as follows:
1. Make love, not regression! We declare that the sex boycott is comprehensively over retroactive to April 2006, but only for those of the loktantrik persuasion. 2. Vision 50/50: No penises in parliament! We demand that until 50 percent of seats in parliament are reserved for women of diverse backgrounds, women of diverse backgrounds should occupy all 100 percent of parliamentary seats. 3. Naturalise foreign jwais! One of our brave chelis has volunteered to sacrifice her independence (temporarily) to marry a foreign man, only to seek full naturalisation and citizenship rights for bideshi jwais (foreign sons-in-law). Qualified candidates, please apply with CV, photo, and statistics. 4. 40 is better than 33! We applaud the CPN-M for filling 40 percent of their parliamentary seats with women. But why not 50 percent? 5. And what's with the grey coats? We've noticed Maoist women open their mouths only to repeat the same carefully rehearsed party-approved lines. Ladies, we invite you to speak your minds freely. Unleash yourself from all uniformity. Start by getting rid of those awful coats. 6. Whipping is for brutes! Women of all political parties, defy all whips placed by your party denying women's rights. 7. New leadership for the New Nepal! We nominate Ram Kumari Jhankri as the first President of Nepal. 8. Turn the National Women's Commission into a constitutional body! But first, fill 50 percent of the positions in the Constitutional Council (which forms all constitutional bodies) with women. If not, fill all 100 percent of the positions with women. 9. Don't forget what makes the world go around! We unanimously declare the sexiest man in Nepal to be Sunil Babu Pant of the Blue Diamond Society. 10. Donors, back off! All your projects and networks and alliances and seminars are keeping our best women too busy to lead the women's movement. Their country needs them more than your country reports do. 11. Give it up! We demand that all our demands be met by 8 March, International Women's Day, or else we will declare a nationwide chulo-ra-cholo banda. That's right, boys: no food, and no sex for you. Nada. Zip. 12. Following the example of other successful rebel groups before us, we are fully prepared to come aboveground to take part in negotiations, should the government invite us for talks. Jaya Nari! The Jhan Charitraheen Chelis

Women's Room in Monash
It is a space,
created for women
by women!

sometimes sought in solitude
sometimes found in group
sometimes, just when we are doing nothing
sometimes, when we are doing something

sometimes, just to be there, to lie down
to read,
to write,
to paint,
to sing!
or sometimes, just do nothing
but to be there!!

I am regular visitor of women's room in monash campus centre, a space, created by women just women. But everytime I went there, I was there, myself all alone, and I kind of liked that in a way. I would lie down, pick up a feminist book and just read for pleasure to read. Other day, when struck with mensutral cramp or lousy headache, it was the only place in monash i could lie down without being embarrased for being spotted by someone.

Today, Steph had organized the morning tea discussions about violence against women. It was so interesting to talk about issues of violence against women in Nepal. In the beginning, I felt, oh! how am I going to connect with so many different women with so many different views, will I be listened to? Will I listen to them. Then, gradually, we started discussing and the meeting finally escalated to interesting phase with an arrival of a wonderful friend from singapore,who shared her life story, with so much wisdom, wit and humour. We were bonded together. I wish to continue to go there, to this cozy space again!

Spiritual empowerment
Angur Baba Joshi

Nepal and the Nepali people are passing through one of the most critical periods of history. No wonder there is an air of urgency all around. A new constitution of the people, by the people and for the people is to be made within a stipulated time frame. Amid so many urgent problems staring at both the people and the government, everyone from top to bottom seem busy in one way or another, trying to sort out problems on a priority basis. Much, of course, depends on their sense of discrimination in prioritizing the issues; but one of the non-controversial facts is that maximum input on a multidimensional basis is required to empower the women, Dalits, Janajati and other marginalized sections of Nepali society. While discussing the issue of empowerment, one issue which lies at the root of many problems but unfortunately has not received the attention it deserves, is the subject of Deekshya which includes all the basic directive principles of human conduct. Solutions proposed to solve human problems disregarding this fundamental issue is like watering the leaves and branches of a tree instead of its roots. This is exactly what has happened and is happening in the process of solving political, social or economic problems. This applies to the question of women's empowerment as well. It is very encouraging that the issue of women's multi-dimensional empowerment has by now becone a very well accepted principle. Both in words and partly in action, women's education and training programs, women's equal rights to property, legal reforms, income- generating projects for women, increasing the woman's representation at different levels of government, etc are being promoted at the government and the non-governmental levels. It is all very good indeed. In fact, all these have to be expanded on a much wider scale. However one basic factor is always neglected. Knowledge of so many subjects and/or situations and circumstances are included in the system of education. Encouragement is always given to try for good marks in exams, compete well and get a good job with good salary, earn money (sometimes even by hook or by crook as well!) rear the family and enjoy life. Yes, money is essential in life up to certain level; and it is money which can give comfort and convenience in life. But money and the things that money can buy is not enough to gain peace, happiness, joy and fulfillment which is the ultimate goal of human life across the globe irrespective of sex, creed, color or nationality. All else -- position, power, professions, purse, prestige -- are but different means to achieve that goal. For this, something more is needed than money without which, despite tremendous efforts and possession of material prosperity, people cannot be really happy and fulfilled What is this something? At the highest spiritual level it is Self-Realization; but at the ordinary level, it is Deekshya, the directive principles of human conduct which direct the public how to conduct themselves at both at private and official levels, how to make the best use of the knowledge and capabilities they have acquired through education and experience , to realize at an experiential level (not just what other people think or talk about on the basis of what they see outside) continuous peace, happiness and fulfillment. Comparatively speaking this issue is more important in formulating plans and implementing programs for women's empowerment because women are going to be mothers and have the natural responsibility to care and rear future generations and to instill in their young hearts the directive principles of Deekshya, so that they too will enjoy the life they deserve. The directive principles of human conduct indicated by Deekshya, just as the directive principle of a constitution, directs the practitioner to the path of real success in life without the supposed inevitable price of stress, strain, tension and restlessness, the most common symptoms of modern life. These principles are not the monopoly of any particular religion or sect. They are the common eternal universal human values supported and promoted by all the living religions of the world. For instance, speak the truth is a non-controversial directive. Do not steal (it includes all corruption!) is another non-controversial directive. Similarly, purity at physical, mental and intellectual levels, to keep one's sense organs under control, patience, spirit of forgiveness, intelligence equipped with the power of discrimination (just intelligence, even the dacoits have!), knowledge of all physical, mental, intellectual and spiritual aspects of human existence, to serve the needy and the deprived, not to be angry (even the medical science has discovered that anger is bad for human health), to continue one's self-study, to observe familial and social norms in one's behavior etc, all these are included in the basic directive of human conduct for a happy, fulfilled and joyful life. The issue of women empowerment is a national issue and a multi-dimensional one. Therefore it cannot be pigeon-holed as an issue of a particular sector. Women have to be empowered in all sectors: political, economic, social, cultural and human. Much is being talked about, planned, programmed and implemented in four of these fields except in the field of promoting human values as mentioned above. It is conveniently forgotten that only a good human being, a woman or a man, can make a good political leader, an honest competent and committed administrator, successful teacher or a dutiful citizen, and eventually a happy person. Deekshya is the most effective man-making technique and it lies at the root of all other development activities. Therefore Deekshya has to be included as an inevitable and integral part of the system of education and all training and public-awareness programs. It is an essential ingredient in the development of human personality, and more so for the empowerment of women. The empowered woman have to be physically fit, emotionally balanced, intellectually sharp and discriminating and spiritually enlightened, and prone to positive thinking with good character and behavior, and capable of harnessing their maximum potentialities for a happy and joyful life for themselves, for their families, society and the nation. And Deekshya empowerment delivers just that.Posted on: 2009-03-07 20:46:56 (Server Time

VERY EARLY MORNING

It was pure euphoria today, when i arrived this morning in my office, which was virtually empty except one night bird who is bit of rare sight here. So, i was up here, this morning, but of course, with one hour of checking emails ( I am no executive who gets hundreds of email), i rarely get few and got one disappointing one in the morning. Thank god, my shame is shared only by two people. Hey guys, keep your mouth shut alright. Thank god, I had not told my supervisor! and SCO, oh lucky me, my shame is safe with me.

anyways, lunch time is hovering near. So, i can only see food, but I am not that hungry what to do? Want to browse M M place to see if there's anything worthwhile, got to get present for N, want to surprise her!!

I have a deadline, which ends @ 4. I still need to write another 1,00o and see what i am doing, i am writing my blog, how stupid one can get

I need to stop fooling around and stop working. How is it that someday, as deadlines approach, you mind is so stuck that you can barely write. What am I trying to avoid, don't know.

Writing to Dizzu on Emotional Level

Dizzu, I have been struggling to write an article about you. How do I write about you? What topic do I choose, there are hundreds of them. I would never be able to write about you, as words will never be enough. That is why, I am relying on emotions. It is only through emotions, I feel that I can connect with you and can write what I want to write.

You are extraordinary but yet amazingly enough, you have always behaved like an ordinary with ordinary people like me. You are always grounded, close to earth, no pretence, no ‘ego’, no ‘surface level’ talks. Each person in your life feels that they are loved most by you and that is true. You have reached height of fame; you have made your own history. Yet it is not on display, it need not be. It can be felt. The effects of your actions, they are everywhere. You have done what you have wanted to do in life, but you keep on having new dreams and ambitions. Your dreams and ambitions have never greyed with your hair. They have not aged with you, instead they keep on growing.

You have turned your every disappointment into an incentive for new success, a new landmark. You even called your cancer a 'gift'. How does one deal with cancer twice, as if once was not enough. How does one explain what happen to one’s beautiful face in a society where women are always judged by the way they look? You mystified people, when you said it was god’s gift, a god’s way to show that no one is perfect. I remember you speaking in a programme organized by women with special needs, saying that one could turn one’s weakness into strength. It sounded possible, for me, for them, for thousand other people because you only say what you practice. Thus your words are real, they have a power in them to motivate, to transform. You have an aura of truth in you and I fee it vibrating in my self whenever I see, talk with you and remember you.

You are my growth. I have grown up seeing you. Since the age of 5, I clutch your memory of me as ‘a small girl playing harmonium’ very dearly. I am sorry that I could not turn this memory into something concrete. But I remember you, when I teach my little son to play harmonium. You have shared with me a secret of successful marriage. You have taught me valuable lessons of motherhood. I will try to stand true to you, by following your valuable life lessons, which would never be found in a book. As, it is through life we learn, and your life is an open book for everyone there to read.

I remember you saying ‘educate one girl, you educate everyone in her family’ in your speeches in our school. You inspired me to become passionate about women’s rights. How to describe you? Who you are? Women’s rights activist? Pioneer of Nepali tourism industry? Spiritualist? Social worker? It would be limiting to describe you. You are a person who has evolved with time. You have moved on. You have seen the world. You have held steadfast your beliefs but yet have moved on with new times. You have showed tradition and modernity can be combined. You have proved it with your life.

Memorable visit to Geelong

I am still in hangover. Two whole days of weekend absolute fun. My husband's very good friend and his wife invited us over their place in geelong. Waking up red eyed in 6 am ( putting clothes on shubham while he was still asleep) hoping to catch 7.12 bus (by misreading the schedule) and later discovering that there were no bus before 8 in our bus stop was indeed frustating. finally walking few blocks, got into 900 and from huntingdale train to southern cross. Then, first time, ever in ours stay in melbourne, we got into Vline train. it was wonderful! whole carpetted seats and floor, and that day i taught new word to shubham 'relax' by stretching his tiny legs and arms in vline seat. Then, we reached @ geelong station and our friend was there. we hugged each other and he took us off to botanical garden. His wonderful wife was bg preparing us a wonderful meal. To confess, we all were hungry already. Shubham has all pictures with a piece of sandwitch or biscuit in his hand. He loved the plants, he touched them and felt them. I wish my son would acquire this taste of nature, hope he would be nature loving man! he would be for sure.

After again a short visit to beach, we went over to our friends house. Every corner, wall and room was full of spiritual goods, spritual feelings. They were amazing couple. Doing lots of things together. Their hobbies and professions were interwined. Our dear friend J is tarrot reader, reiki healer, and lots and lots more. And she is incredible cook. They did some googling the day before about the kind of food we ate and then whoa, they had cooked rice and some yummy curry ( mixture of beans, pottato, cabbage, carrot( which translates into disaster for me) ) but it was suprisingly delicous. Shubham was shy at first, but later he ate full.

The greatest fun he had was when his uncle picked up loads of straberries, fresh out of garden. He ate them lots. He was stains all over his jacket with these. This was first time shubham had been in australian home. It was incredible experience for him and for us too.

We talked to each other as if we have known all our lives. But it was just first meeting with J and second with K. That's amazing how few moments can transform into a deep bonding between people. J was so dynamic, she knows everything. So beautiful. I will always remember her as a lady with flowing black dress, her hairs waving in the beach as she walks barefooted far away on the beach. We collected some corals and some stones as keepsake. It was indeed an amazing trip. Thanks J and K for everything.

A Life like story

As we live on, we go on making stories. About ourselves, about other people. Sometimes, we are the main characters, other times, a minor part in someone else's bigger stories, tumutulous stories. Story of my life is is uni directional. There is no abrubpt halt or amazing twists and turns. Just the regular process, I guess and that is what hinders me to write poems anymore.........

But I remember one of my friend's life, I sometimes still reflect on her life, on what she did, why she did and what it meant. She this woman, who I highly admire, slightly despise, let me call her 'S'.

We were buddies, going college together. A member of our gang, who were recognized as 'studious lunies' who haunt the libraries, but not so dull as to remain there all the time. We were the loudest ones in the cafe. We were the ones who would participate in poetry recitation. Sometimes in a whim we even did a political demonstration, obstructing group of men to give their examination. Our campus was always an exam center, thus we were 'supposed' to be annoyed for this lack of regularity in our studies.

How many people were there in a group? I forgot. Well, I was somewhere in between this two I guess. One was this group belonging to 'Kathmanduits', studious group of girls, who knew everything ranging from pop to mills boon novles to getting top in classes. Then, I was also in another, ' Journalistic'. all of us were interns in some paper or another. And this is where the story starts.

It is just a story, from my eyes. I don't know whether I should write it. Will she be identified? I don't know. I just can't beleive what I think of this story, sad or happy, it is somewhere in between. Something I will never be able to fathom. something, she did I would have never dared to do. That's why I secretly admire her, and may be that is why I slightly despise her.

But after all, thats her story, her life. I have no right to tell it, I decide. Even, my life story is not mine anymore and I doubt whether I have full right to share it. There are so many people around it with conflicting views and interpretations that it will never become a story enough.

Anyways, now its time to stop pretending that I am working and stop writing this..............more later to come

SEARCH FOR THE ULTIMATE UNIQUE NAME

Just few mins ago, we were discussing about names for baby of one of my dearest friend. Ah, I know how it starts like. Since my pregnancy, the hunt for baby name started. I used to have two sets of name for every favourate letter. Initiallly, I had this idea that name of my baby ( boy or a girl) would have combined letter of his or her father and mother's initial. Thus, I was searching for something with N and D in it, and you bet! it was difficult. I gave up the search and agreed with my hubby that it was better to restart after the baby was born.

so, in this sutkeri period, sometimes, I used to hang over the internet, sometimes turning the pages of big ' Nepali sabdasagar' which must have been more than 10 kg of weight. Gradually,this search of name was weighing heavy on me. We were searching for something with S now.............so the search was not that futile, but still conflicting coz, he was firstborn, and above all, first grandson of proudest grandparents in the world. Everything had to be perfect.

Then, it was just easy at the end. My father's beloved friend Swami S C named him as Shubham, meaning good luck, good omen, and thats how he is so far hehhehe.

So, my friend L, and my sister S, the search will continue for you guys I know............keep on searching and hunting. That perfect name for your perfect baby just may be around the corner. And hey, S, if you had daugther simply name after me, heheheh, what Say???? :D

Lunch discussions!!!

Being a HDR student has its own pros and cons. Pros is that, you can do what you need to do whenever, whereever you need to do. Study from library, home or toilet, it doesn't matter as long as you meet the deadlines, as long as you are in this state of 'having your thesis in your head' all the time, you will just do fine. For people who crave solitude, its a great gift actually, this HDR project. But for people like me who need to talk to someone constantly to make sense of something, a strong need of friends and who has strong cravings for non-academic discussions: it can get bit lonely here.

Well, I can say i have got the best of both worlds here. My two buddies from Srilanaka H and P along with me are the lunch trio, who have become famous whereever we go. Everyday @ 12.30 ( which sometimes stretch through 1) becomes a saga discussions based on recipe exchange, supervisor dillemas, writing anxieties, reading difficulties. Oh, i feel so luck, to have these two wonderful people to talk to over lunch, eat most delicious and spicy curry, which is bit rarity @ home with shubham's arrival.

Soon, in 15 minutes, we will create another saga and rock MRGS lounge with our laughter and mesmerising aroma of our yummy curries, hmmmmmmmm.

Dressing up shubham!

Mothers, especially mothers of toddlers have a hard time putting dress in their kids. I need to rush in the morning through everything. Wake up suddenly ( don't ask me the time pls), then rushing off to washroom, rushing off to kitchen to cook, prepare tiffin, bite in between all these. My shubham wakes up as soon as I do and starts reading books or playing with his car. Every now and then, he hollers me to pay attention to what he is doing. He calls me 'BUBUAMA' with his shrill voice to catch my attention. He needs to be 'in focus' always, the big man in 2 and half year old body.

Then, after rushing feeding him this morning, his buwa arrived with bit of a sour mood. Why?? that's another issue altogether. I had taken off all shubham's clothes to dress him up to go to his child care. This is his fun part. Here I am, with just 5 minutes left to set him off to his carer. He makes the most of those 5 minutes stretching those into 15 minutes, always. He dances around naked, showing off his belly buttons and tummy and his bottom. Singing this unknown and unheard songs, he dances in funniest way possible. I can't help laughing and enjoying the moment. But still, again, I have to rush through.

He is a kid after all, he doesn't care about my deadlines and timelines. Just this morning, I was telling him that, I was meeting my supervisor. He said ' ma pani bhetchu ni', I will also meet. Oh, shubham you make my everyday little more difficult but interesting, really interesting.

I feel that I need to start writing in this blog again. I am writing my thesis and I have realized that I need to have the fluency in my expression and clarity. I am still struggling with English. Why I realize. Everyone back home, well almost everyone used to say how good my English here. It was shock to know that how poor it actually is. Perhaps, I dont study fiction any more maybe.

Since this week, I have started to read Margaret Atwood's novel at least during the evening. It gives me a freedom not to understand everything I read. I am free with my imagination and a book. Its a releif to read without needing to read it, without having necessity to quote it or paraphrase it.

I envy ppl when I read their blog. I specially like Archana Shrestha's blog, with so many different topics and issues. i wish to write more, its time that I start working on another article which is due soon.