|
Layalama Online Magazine Quarterly Nepal Bhasa poetry & prose in English
Volume 1 – Issue 4 15th.April 2003
Editor: Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar (mailto:pushpatuladhar@hotmail.com) Co-editer: H.K. Kapali Publisher: Amir Ratna Tamrakar (mailto:tamrakarar@hotmail.com) All rights reserved
A Few Drops of my
poetry
|
|
Nati Bajra, born on 1941 in Kathmandu, Nepal, is a poet and lyricist. His poetry collections are Suti La/Morning Dews (1961), Thaman Thata Luyikabale/When I find myself (1972) and Jeevanya Duwatey/In crossroad of Life (1995). He is the owner of Saphu Dhuku (A Treasure of Books), only shop for Nepalcbhasa literary books and newspapers, at Asan Dagubaha (Main old market in Katmandu valley) Contact: Nati Bajra Tel: + 977 1 4221032 |
Searching
Buddha.
Buddha!
Where can I find you out?
Either in Rukum or in Rolpa
In Dang or in Gorkha
Where can I find you out, Buddha!
Either in the lands of Israelis or
In the dwelling of the Palastinians
In Pentagon or in Kamndahar
In Kashmir or in Kargill
Where Can I find you out, Buddha!
Either in the Chiva or in Swoyambhu Mahachaitya
In Bamiyan or in Lumbini
In Kushinager or
In the pebbles shattered beside river
Where can I find you out, Buddha!
(Rolpa and Rukum, far
western remote area of Nepal, where Moist started the Peoples’ war.. Dang
and Gorkha are the districts affected by Moists.Chivar is the Buddhist
pagoda and swoyambhu Mahachaitya is the swoyambhu temple,
the biggest Budddhist Temple in Nepal).
Copyright 2002 Daya Khadgi Baichen
Daya Khadgi Bechain
(Contact tel:
+ 977 1 5537815)
|
Daya Khadgi, Bechain as nickname, born on 1964 at Lalitpur, Nepal, is a poet and story writer. His publication are Bhavanaya Chhagu Nhugu Sanskar (Story collection), Sachhiku Haiku /100 Haiku (Haiku collection),Ji wa Jigu Yatra/Me and My travel (poetry collection), Matinaya Lanpui/Towards the Way of Love (Gazal collection) and Nyeyku Haiku/50 Haiku (2003). He is the receipant of Nhugu Biswobhumi Sirapa, Birat Nepal Bhasa Sahitya Sirapa and Manigal Gazal Sirapa. Contact: Daya Khadgi Baichen Tel: + 977 1 5537815) |
Two Short Stories in Nepal Bhasa
Broken Meditation (2002)
By Mrs. Subarna Keshari Chitrakar
(Translated by Mr. Sungma Tuladhar)
Dharma (Good) and Paap (Evil) lived in the same place. Dharma always went to right and good places. He never did anything that was sinful and wrong. Everyone liked him. Many people began following his steps. Seeing this Paap became jealous. He covered all his sinful deeds by pretending to be do good work and followed Dharma.
Noticing this people began to see Paap in this new light. His sweet talk and attractive personality outshone Dharma. People began to have poor views of dharma. They knew Paap was sinful and unclean. But, because of artful talk and attractive personality, Paap won the hearts of unscrupulous people. These people began get more and more entangled in the web of their sinful deeds.
Dharma became isolated from People. He began to lose his place from people’s mind and heart. Een in places like temples, monasteries and high places that held him in high regard no longer had any respect for him. He could no longer find any shelter – not even in the moist damp basement. He was abandoned and avoided by one and all. He left the town and people’s company and went to live in a forest. It looked as if he could find no solace even in the forest.
“Why did people gradually distance themselves from me and began to be attractive by Paap? Why did such a thing happen?” Dharma could not understand. In an effort to find the answer within himself, he began meditating.
Paap began to follow Dharma to the forest in an effort to find Dharma’s whereabouts and his activities, and he hid attentivelybehind the tree where Dharma was meditating.
As Dharma’s concentration grew stronger his mind reached the depth of his consciousness and the whole environment, including the hills and forest was illuminated by a bright light. From a distance in the horizon, a brilliantly shining divine circle was moving towards Dharma. On seeing this Paap quickly went towards the divine circle before it could reach Dharma and prostrated before it and paid homage. Then presenting himself as Dharma, he spoke gently to the divine circle in the soft tone of Dharma. Paap’s sweet talk pleased the divine circle, which transformed into a charming God who was calm, peaceful pleasant and enchanting. He slowly extended his hands towards Paap and saying “Tathastu(So be it) !” he blessed Paap. As soon as the God blessed Paap the brilliant illumination around Dharma vanished immediately and was covered by an evil darkness startled by this. Dharma quickly opened his eyes. As he opened his eyes he sa a terrible sight. A fierce storm swept through the place. Steaks o blinding lightning criss-crossed the sky. Deafening thunder filled the sky. Trees fell. The sky revibrated with the terrified cries of birds and animals. Mountains exploded and tumbled down. The eart cracked. The whole sky burnt fiercely and living beings on earth suffered and suffocated. Paap smiled as if he had won the battle. Not only the Dharma but also the God noticed the approaching end of the earth. Looking at the impending doom of the world, these words escaped from God’s lips “ Now how will the universe be saved?”
|
Subarna Keshari Chitrakar, born on 1942 in Kathmandu, Nepal, is an established storywriter. She is the founder and present president of Nepal Bhasa Womens' Organization (Nepal Bhasa Misa Khalah) and founder of SUNGAVA ( Susta Manasthini Mahila Byabasayic Talim Kendra). Her publications include two collection of Short stories, Gunchwa Moopuli and Ilan Phapueki (2002). Contact: Subarna Keshari Kansakar Tel: + 977 1 226416. Email: layalama@yahoo.com |
A Smile Blossoms on Her Lips
By Jaleswori Shrestha
Sushila’s husband Bimal is ill. Today, his friend Dr. Anil visited him for a check up. Since Bimal’s accident in the bus, he has been Dr. Anil’s patient. He is now paralyzed below the waist and cannot move. Thirty year old Bimal and 28 year old Sushila have a two year old son. They have no other family members but enough property to maintain them.
One full year has passed, but there has been no improvement in Bimal’s health. Sushila is very unhappy. Relatives and friends come and go, expressing their false kindness. But Sushila is still in a state of shock. It has been her daily duty to look after her son and to serve Bimal. Sushila is getting tired of the monotony and drudgery of looking after them all day long just by herself. Sometimes, she despairs of spending this kind of hard life which by now has become like the hard mountains thatsurround her.
Another doctor comes to the house for Bimal’s regular check up, and Sushila must sit next to the doctor. She loathes sitting next to this doctor but it is not possible to stay away. Sushila has to do all the work of undressing her husband and laying him down to sleep. All the time, the doctor gazes his lust filled eyes upon her body. Sometimes his hands would grovel up to touch her. With her husband’s deteriorating condition and her own sexual thirsts, she wonders how she will be able to protect herself from the sinister designs of the greedy doctor. When a man touches her, her body burns with the flame of desire. In the day her busy workload helps her ignore her needs, but it comes to haunt her in the night. She spends sleepless nights as the heat of desire burns and torments her body.
Menawhile, Bimal sleeps in contentment. He enjoys his wife’s services and has tremendous confidence in her. Sushila imagines what it must be like to be born a man. How happy and carefree a man’s life is even in sickness. There is the wife to serve him like his bonded slave, to run his house and raise his children, while the man enjoys all kinds of privileges denied to women. Knowing Bimal’s bed ridden condition, Sushila’s friend and relatives advises Sushila to keep her distance from other men. “You have beauty and youth” they say. “If you lose your morality, it will gravely harm your husband and your son.” Sushila also agrees with them. With the doctor and many other men lusting for her youth and beauty, she again wonders how she will be able to protect herself from their lechery.
Sushila loves her husband and knows that he needs her. She would never leave him in his time of need. A wrong step could lead to a bad name. Bimal will be heart broken and her life will be in ruins. For the love of Bimal, Sushila controls the flame of fire in her heart with patience and virtue, like a dutiful and faithful wife.
One day, Sushila hears
that her close friend is dying of cancer, and goes to meet her. The once
beautiful face has yellowed with sickness, her
youthful body is now lean and wasted and her long black hair has been cut
off. There is no hope for her, except
perhaps a few more years of life
with the help of modern medicine. Her children are still small, but she
wants to live till her children grow up. She suffers physically, but the
emotional pain inflicted on her is suffocating her. She tells Sushila that
the servant girl who has been brought in to look after her has now
become her husband’s lover. Now, this girl is taking care of her husband
rather that
of her. In the presence of others, this young girl pretends
to be a good care taker, but in their absence the same girl does not care
to
serve even a glass of water. While she spends sleepless nights
writhing in pain, her husband sleeps soundly in the next bed, after a night
of pleasure, his body intertwined in the servant girl’s. Right in front
of his dying wife’s eyes, not giving a care for her
feelings! She cries out
to Sushila her unbearable emotional torture at the hands of husband.
She is compelled to live in tolerance
of every activity of her husband just
for the love of her children, as a woman, as a mother. She says that people have suggested to her husband to remarry, and she has also given
him permission. Hearing her friend, Sushila is troubled. She senses
the injustice of it all.
How different a man is
from a woman! A wife readily gives permission to her husband if she is
unable to fulfill his sexual desires, but what of
a man? Why can’t a man give the same permission to his wife? Nature has
given women the same desires as men.
But it is only a man’s
privilege to find sexual fulfillment in other women if his wife cannot
satisfy him? What about a women’s sexual
fulfillment? Why is it a sin
for a woman to even imagine about men other than her husband? It is said
that if women are given the
same freedom and privileges, there
is loss of morality in society, there is ruin of religion. Why is only a
woman sinful and amoral, whilea man is free from sin? And why has God
bestowed sexual desires in women if it is a sin for her to want sexual
fulfillment???? Is
the woman’s morality like clumsy sand that falls to
ground even by a slight wisp of breath? Is a man’s glory like steel that can withstand even the harshest of storms? These questions play in Sushila’s
mind. How can it be a sin for a woman to seek sexual
fulfillment, when
nature has bestowed upon her desires. If physical desires cannot be
suppressed, it is better to express them and
be happy rather that live with
a tormented mind and go mad.
Sushila opens up her
mind. Bimal is physically impotent and Sushila is mentally scattered. She is
still youthful and passion runs
in her veins,
desire burns her body. She is thirsty but her desire remains unquenched and
unfulfilled. She cannot live nor die.
Will she go mad? Society
and religion has made her a prisoner. It chains her and bounds her
painfully, yet her body yearns
to be quenched of thirst. She finds no
respite
for her pain. Many men have wanted
Sushila but she has remained chaste. Now it was becoming increasingly
difficult. She is in a real dilemma. Next day, in the
kitchen, Sushila is working, these questions playing in her mind. Her
thoughts are interrupted, as she is startled by a
voice saying “Please give me money to buy milk. I have to go to the market
early in the morning tomorrow”. She turns around to see Basu. He is a poor boy from her village and has come to study in the city.
He lives in Sushila’s house and helps her in her work. Sushila
looks at Basu and is surprised to notices how attractive Basu is. She gazes
intently at his strong body and charming face, and a smile
blossoms on her lips.
|
Jaleswori Shrestha, born on 1947, at Kathmandu,Nepal, is a story writer. She is a women development activist and social worker. She is the patron of Women’s Literary Forum and a life member of Nepal Literary Journalists Association. Her publication includes an anthology of story in Nepali, Lavaka Baphaharu (Steams of Volcano) 2002. Her stories, translated in Nepal Bhasa, Hindi and English, are published in several literary periodicals and magazines. Contact: Mrs Jaleswari Shrestha<mailto:info@chitwanjunglelodge.com> |
|
I Can’t SleepBy Amir Ratna Tamrakar
(Translated by Dr. Tej
Ratna Kansakar) During my childhood I did not get to drink enough of my mother’s milk. I became a oung man before I had enough of my childhood games. My hands and feet remained under-developed even when I reached adulthood. I was not ashamed of taking advantage of my parents and living on them as a parasite. That may be the reason why I am looked upon as a black ship in the family and one who is a problem and detested by everyone. For me to speak to anyone is almost like a sinful act, a reason for ill-feeling and discord. All my neighbours complain and keen away from me. At the beginning I felt hurt by their unkind words of criticism. I lacked confidence in myself and so bad feelings of self-guilt. But I have now overcome such depressions, although my heart has broken into pieces by the painful experiences of my life. They may humiliate and look down upon me but I have learnt to endure them without bitterness. The only thought which haunts me is that whenever I lie down, I cannot sleep. At such time I am tormented by words of abuse that drift into my ears and almost rattle my brain. I then feel uneasy and lose my peace of mind. I cannot sleep at all.
The mosquitoes that hum around my ears add to my misery. I wave my hands and move my legsviolently to drive away the mosquitoes. But they come back as soon as I stop moving my hands and legs. My intention is to fall of to sleep and not spend the night driving away the mosquitoes. My hands grow tired, and in a warm room like mine I am compelled to cover both my face and legs. The mosquitoes keep on targeting my face or legs, whichever happens to be exposed im my struggle with the blanket. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to sleep by composing my mind. Suddenly a drop of cold water fell on my forehead. One, two, three drops… I could not hear it any longer. I rose up, put on the light and noticed the ceiling thoroughly wet. The drops of water continued to fall from the leaks along the ceiling. I placed a tin can to collect the water, but in no time it began to leak at several places. The condition that prevailed in the attic had spread to my room. Hurriedly I lifted the mattress and flung it to a corner. I dried my wet body and again lay down on the mattress. Unmindful of the dripping water in the room, I put off the light and once gain concentrated on sleep. But not even the shadow of sleep would descend on my eyelids. I lay awake counting the drops of water that fell into the can – one, two, three drops…
The Brahmin milkman will come tomorrow to shout at me. He is bound to give a speech demanding money. I need to pay him for two months, but he has been going around telling people that I owe him money for four months. He broadcasts this false information at every crossroad. Everyone knows me as one who always buys things on credit. If I were at the point of death I am sure no one in this neighbourhood would offer me a drop of water in sympathy. My grandmother lies critically ill in one corner for want of medical treatment. As soon as she wakes up the next morning, the whole house will echo with her cries of pain and her own unique style of weeping. My father will also come home drunk and create a big fuss. He will abuse and beat up all women and children in the house. The children will cry out and the whole neighbourhood will echo with their loud weeping. The family members will be so upset and agry that they will throw their cooked rice down the drain. The neighbours in turn will shout at us for dirtying the area and blocking the drain. The owner of the house next to ours will come and complain that our leaking roof is causing damage to his old house which may collapse at any time. All these are predictable events for tomorrow or a repetition of what had occurred in the recent past. History, as we know, repeats itself. In the darkness of my room I keep rehearsing the events that are likely to be repeated. The rehearsals that are staged in my mind have the effect of driving my sleep further and further away from me. If you were to turn the pages of my short history, you will notice that all my leisure time have been spent in unpleasant activities. For example, I spend many sleepless nights lying on my bed. I have completed twenty-five years of my life in such a dull existence. I may be young in experience but I realize that all my nights are no longer in my control. My days and nights in fact are not mine to enjoy. I have been deprived of my basic rights – a victim of an unknown conspiracy. I continue to endure the infirmities ad weaknesses of my much abused body. I keep on trying to break away from the frustration of sleeplessness. My mind and my body crave for unnatural remedies like sleeping tablets, LSD and morphia injections. Tossing and turning on my bed today, I feel that oxygen is being sucked away from my room. Yet I am attempting to sleep. Is it possible that countless numbers of insomniac viruses are being released in the atmosphere in the name of national development? I silently endure my inability to sleep. If I cannot sleep now I cannot guarantee that my children will my children will be able to seep tomorrow. I am told that my great grand father had become insane due to sleeplessness. My maternal grandfather too had died due to insomnia. How can I sleep when I am condemned to suffer the same fate. My grandfather had been immobilized in his limbs due to his bed-ridden state for a long period and I fear that I and my children will also be victimized in this way. I realize that it is useless to lie on bed waiting to sleep. It is sheer foolishness on my part to escape from the inevitable. I will be able to sleep only when I break away from my silent suffering and subject my body to the dynamism of physical activities. My future children will be unable to sleep unless we succeed in freeing ourselves from this unnatural bondage. I will be able to sleep peacefully once I cut off my paralyzed hands that have tormented my sleepless nights. Then I and my children will be blessed with sound sleep, deeply satisfying sleep.
Pahan Chwami (The Guest
Writer):
Beyond The Wildest Dream
Rainbow is made naturally, the world ants the whole world to know, The variations in colours are manifestations of a blending process from red hot volcano to avalanche snow.
Green is the basic step I think on which our minds should be based, Conflicts amongst colours: no one should believe it, needs to be guessed.
War between them a rare imagination cannot be achieved, Unnecessary such miserable things can make life only to be grieved.
Hurricanian dominance, naturally irritating can’t be avoided; By understanding each other with matching words and action nothing is collided.
By lateral thinking, not stereotyping with his issue only; Destroys harmony that already exists unreasonably, anonymously.
Simple life, simple thoughts, simple co-existence may be difficult to some but are true; All colours of earth belong to rainbow of this world
to stay peacefully side by side too.
Copyright 2003 Sadhu Sailen
Sadhu Sailen
(mailto:sadhuc@yahoo.co.uk)
|