THINLEY ALIVE WITH CARAVAN

THINLEY ALIVE WITH CARAVAN

- Krisu Chhetri

Freezing cold

Judgement falls like snow

From the eaves of roofs

Heart shivers with cold

Thinley becomes salt

And stands on the caravan of salt,

Thinley barters pain with salt,

Thinley looses himself

In the quest of a hero

Who’d change the fate of a nation,

Who’d bring rejuvenation.

A vulture ululates sitting on rooftop

Eagles sing of sensation over monasteries

On the snowy path

On the journey to snow

Thinley stands on the caravan of Yak

A yeti incarnate,

He barters old age with travellers,

Thinley gets lost

In his own search of a hero

Who’d rejuvenate the nation.

A dark sky

An illusion of hope

To meet and exchange love

With trees.

Thinley draws contours of pain

On his face

Dances all night

With death

On his son’s demise.

Though weak and thin

And aging before time,

He stands on the caravan of courage;

An industrious person,

Thinley shares happiness with neighbours

And looses himself

In the quest of a hero

Of regeneration

And hope for the nation.

He’s a travaller,

Happiness slashed by lightning

A widowed young daughter-in-law

Meets her paramour all night

In the hazy moonlight

Thinley looks ceaselessly

At the bright future of Dolpa

Dolpa’s future looks vacantly in silence

Perhaps Thinley has seen death closely

In the avalanche

In the painful death of his own yaks

Thinley lives on with the caravan

As Krishna reciting the Geeta of Karma

Wrestling with death

Thinley saves himself

In the quest of a hero

Who’d change the fate of a nation,

Who’d bring rejuvenation.

THE SONG OF BIRDS

THE SONG OF BIRDS

- Krisu Chhetri

A bird always sings the song of light

the song of dawn

against the dark, deep and desolate night

The moon fights against the darkness

the glowworm fights too

While fighting against the night

the stars die out one by one

when the light is still far away

even after the moon and glowworms and stars have died all

the bird sings the song of freedom chirping

it ever sings the songs of light

The bird loves a free, boundless forest

more than a cage of gold

there is no God greater than freedom

for a bird

The bird ever sings against the cage

flapping its wings

ever erecting its comb

it sings against all bondage

the bird ever sings the songs of freedom

The bird feeds itself

The bird weaves the shelter itself

It does everything for its own sake

The bird ever sings the song of karma and novel creation

obstructions may come on the way, however ….

I too wish to fight against the darkness

would like to bang against the bondage

would like to be all free

in the likeness of the bird

would like to sing the song of awareness

truly

I would like to sing the song of bird.

WATER

WATER
- Krisu Chhetri

Do not regard water ever cold and liquid
Do not regard water ever simple and plain
Feel to its core
A fire is ever burning inside the water
Water ever revolts
against motionlessness
Water emits songs of revolt
more than fire
Water hates to live life of oppression
It never obeys a life of confinement
Time and again
Water has resounded the fury of tides
Water never speaks
nor does it burn others
Whether in the hills or plains
It never forgets its course
You can find that civilization has flourished by waters
Be it by the Hung Ho, the Nile, or the Indus
wherever may it be
Before unveiling civilization
Columbus too set his foot on water
Water never knows how to stop
Water never allows to be blocked
Water is an incessant flow
and a change, where
awareness reads its reflection

Do not obstruct water
Water has its own course
do not confine water
Water has its own mood
We should learn the lesson of freedom
We learn from water
the lesson of continuity
You rather go to a riverbank
and glance at the water flowing
and its speed
Water tells you the story of your civilization
Water becomes the living symbol of your faith.

Motherland

Motherland

- By Namrata Guragain
- Translated by Sharad Acharya

Motherland is not the selective alcoholic drink
That you take to ease your tension of the day
Neither it is a prompt cup of bed tea
You drink as you awake of keep the laziness away.

Motherland is not that custom-office
Which use to get unfair wealth
Neither motherland is your alone world
Where you govern in chaos here and there.

Every new-year starts with announcement
We have done this, this, and that
Because we are burning from the problem?
In reality,
People are busy
To sworn government and overthrow it
In my country however
There is always a flood and landslide
Alas! In this Dashain too
Lot of Dhan Bhadahurs are facing
Different kind of crisis.

So
Don’t suppose motherland
The fruit of your own orchard
That you can take any time
And the holy water
That purifies sprinkling
Even one’s  devil mind.

I

I

Kalpna Satyal

5505 Tobego Court, Fairfax, VA 22032

 

 

In every cell of my body

is a living miracle

The wholeness of me

is an infinite miracle

I am that, which no one knows

I am not that, which just shows

There is no start with in me

There is no end with out me

I am I, yet I don’t know me.

I am I, yet I only show me.

I have more power than I know.

I have more power than I show.

I am I, more than I show

I am I, more than I know

Freedom Fighter

Freedom Fighter

Madhuban Paudel

As I pass by that corner

My eyes are struck on him !

A lonely man under that lamp post

On a torn wheel-chair

He laments every day

He lost his both legs long ago
struggling as a freedom fighter
Yes, as a freedom fighter!

His country is now free

And poor he
A free man of a free country indeed

Yet lonely and deserted

Neglected and discarded
by his own fellow men
Yes, by his fellow men from his free country!

And left to live on alms for ever!

He knows well, he will die one day

Unheard, unsung and discarded
In his free country!

Yet branded as a Freedom Fighter!

(Original in Nepali composed in 1986 on the life of a beggar in a street of Dhaka, Bangladesh)

The sun

Manzari

Manzari

She shows fabricated smile as a faded flower.
Sober pain of a deep hurt spreads on her face.
She cannot remove her sadness like a torn cloth,
it cannot cover her shyness.

She feels by herself; she is a scene of shame.
She loses her aesthetic persona in eyesight.
She aspires to make her gorgeous
life with a refreshing happiness.
She starts to append a garland of hope.
Searching for her fanciful and lost dream,
Manzari begins an indefinite journey.

Her reality portrays:
Poverty makes a slave like life,
illiteracy isolates from global age’s affairs,
ignorance trades in cheaper price,
innocent mind gets involved in juncture of conspiracy,
her journey is necessary to reform her entity.

Manzari passes over the horizons to ocean,
she’s unknown, shifted as an animal.

Her karma places:
She cannot defend her delicate and sensitive virginity.
Without feelings and excitement, she is ravished
in a brothel of Bombay by lustful men.
Missing hopes and relations,
she cannot protect her chastity.
She curses to her destiny for such a life.
She cannot escape from her master’s cage.
Her charm is squeezed like flour dough.

This is a life of hell.
Manzari dies mysteriously in an Arabian country
reason that she cannot endure agony
of losing her virtue of life. Manzari’s appending
garland of hope is incomplete.

Many of us,
we hear the story of Manzari.
But we don’t care.
She is the page of an open book.
We can read and feel her.
We can share our fondness to her.

Manzari wants to live as us,
with value and pride of life.
Try to feel her torment,
try to listen her sob.

Stop women trafficking!
Do not elevate to the world’s human trading.
It’s your criminal and outrageous act.
It’s a defamation of our society and nation.

Read, feel, think and understand
Manzari’s story belongs to us.

The Path of Truth and Peace

The Path of Truth and Peace by :- Chandra Rai (Akash)

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The Path of Truth and Peace

I recognize your sovereignty,
pleasant matter you respect deeply my values,
no superiority, no inferiority,
no ego and no fears between each of us;
a harmonious friendship of two sovereigns.

Hundreds of sovereignties of the world,
an evil like mankind’s inhuman and immoral behavior
oppresses human’s notion as Octavian – treacherous Romans
executed innocent Caesarion. When we choose to walk on the path
of truth and peace, we get the experience of bitterness and loneliness.

All of the beloved on behalf of us,
they do not stay with us forever.
Our aspiration of getting truth and peace receives obstacles.
Do not get tired, we do not need to give up, as Buddha
did, to search for peace in this material world.

No greediness, no self-interest,
no war, no game of power, no genocide, no massacre;
we should not flow the hot blood and salty tears as Iraqis.
We don’t want to see anymore scary skulls of Tutsis and Hutus.
Gandhi has been shot for his principle of non-violence.

Truth is sacred and secret. Peace gives us
an infinite freedom of wisdom, where the dream
or myth never ends holiness. The creation of beauty is
never destroyed in a civilized society. The questioning of truth
is a death; Socrates drank of the poison from his opponents.

Let us, follow the path of truth and peace.
Nobody can hide it, it is as the beauty and purity of the flower.
Nobody can kill it, it is as the spirit of peace and freedom in us.
We are two sovereigns; we will remain like a ray of sapience.
We never die like the name of Jesus Christ.