Issue – 7/8
Layalama Online Magazine

Quarterly
Nepal Bhasa poetry & prose in English
Volume 2 – Issue 7/8
15^th.Jan/April 2004 

Editor:
Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar
(mailto:pushpatuladhar@hotmail.com}

Co-editer:
H.K. Kapali
(mailto:layalama@yahoo.com)

All rights reserved

In this issue 

1.From the Epic "Sugat Saurav" by late Chittadhar 'Hridaya'.
2.Poetry collections - Purna Bahadur Baidya, Sudan Khusa, Madhav Mool, Rajendra Manandhar,.
3.Short Stories (Modern short stories in Nepal Bhasa) - The Wall of the norms by Padmavati Singh
4.Essays (Prose) - A Moment with Art and Life by Mangal Prasad Shrestha
5.Pahan Chwami (Guest Writers) - Poems by Les Merton UK and Wayne Amtzis USA

From the Editor’s Desk:

 LUMBINI 

The guggle of the wild pigeons,

Strolling all over the green lawn,

Sounded like an invitation

To sit down and rest the tired limbs.

The magnolias in full bloom

Were like umbrellas, purpose-built

To protect the king of seasons

From the harmful rays of the sun.

And equally welcome was he

To the clusters of white jasmines,

Which greeted him with a big grin,

Extending from ear to ear.

Flowers tossing their heads with pride,

Fruit, swelling to their full extent,

Thickets and grooves humming with life –

Enough were they to make our heads swim.

Wild animals thronging the place

Were too many to keep track of;

Among the birds the koel’s strain

As too distinct to be mistaken.

Spring, the lover of Nature,

Lavished on her gifts of flowers,

Dressing every inch of the ground

In shimmering new foliage.

Behold, the beauty of Nature,

Arrayed in her lover’s largesse,

Take special note of the butterflies,

Which looked like sequins on her dress.

The sound of the-fast-flowing brook

Was like the tinkling of the anklets

Of Nature, while executing

An intricate choreography.

Like a woman who is assured

That the world of love is at her feet,

Nature was in a joyous state,

Contented, confident, and proud.

On show were the natural charms

As if a big sale were afoot;

Perhaps the birds were out in force

To snap them up for a song.

To be continued …
 

This is from “Sugat Saurava”, an epic on the Life and Teachings of the Buddha. It was written while
he was imprisoned (1941-1947)  by the autocratic Rana regime for his Nepal Bhasa Literary Movement
and activities  aimed at keeping alive the Nepal Bhasa language and its literature. It was translated into English
 by Tirth Raj Tuladhar and published by Nepal Bhasa Academy in 1998. This book is also translated
into English by Mr. Todd T. Lewis of Holly Cross College in USA in association with Suvarna Man Tuladhar
and expected to publish soon from USA.

At the City Fair
 

Baring her many multicoloured eyes

throughout her body

a city hands out civilization

opening its parcels from abroad

at the five start hotels and restaurants

at the discos of bars and clubs

now and again 

the city vomits

the rush of crowds

through maws of towering halls

drunk on beer and whiskey

I am a hunger pang of civilization

When I approach the city portals

a group of up-to-date celebrants

push and knock against me

Falling down senseless

I don’t know how many go ahead

tramping my body

Throughout my body of inherited culture

Am badly injured. Barely able to stand, I walk on

and though facing difficulty

I’ve brought a little civilization from the city

And with its procurement

O, my very face fell

Within that onrushing crowd,

confused

Terribly afraid

I looked up 

O! I’m bewildered

No one here bares their own face;

only masks

O, I realize

how terrible it is

being a great void

a single body without a face

Terrified

I escape from myself

from the city of this city.

Purna Vaidya

Purna Bahadur Vaidya, born on 1941 in Bhaktapur, Nepal, is an established poet and essayist in Nepal Bhasa. 
 His poems are published in the Drunken Boat, Nimrod (The Expanding Circle), Manoa, pacific journal of
 international writing and other literary magazines in US. Contact: Purna Vaidya<purnavaidya@hotmail.com>

Translated by Wayne Amtis (Read his poems in Panhan Chwami (Guest Writers) below.

The feeling of a morn 
 

A morn

A tough belief

Defeat of pitch dark

Welcome of daylight

Sign of freedom

But to-day

A crowd of mornings

Shackle its legs.
 

Me 
 

When I saw the reflection

Of someone’s hand striking at me

In the mirror hung

In the corner of certain shop,

I’ve felt then with its pain,

Unconsciously, I am 

Alone somewhere lost

In my own boundary,

But have my presence

Amidst the market

Busy with lots of people.

Sudan Khusa, born on 1957 in Kathmandu, Nepal, and M.B.A., is an outstanding poet.
He has been awarded Jhi Pradhan Sirapa and Siddhidas Amatya Rastriya Pratibha Puraskar.
 He has published a collection of his poems,Tanawongu Laga/Disappearing boundaries (1985).
Contact: Sudan Khusha. Address: 21/91 Bagbazar, In front of Padma Kanya Campus, Katmandu,
 Nepal

An Azure Infinity 
 

O azure sky! Do bless me

To be vast infinitude myself as you belong to.

Please do enlighten me

To let stretched myself out to infinity as you do.

Yes, a mere cipher and null you are,

Nothing and non-existent at all

But indeed all in all you’re

O azure sky! Do bless me

To turn to null

Please do enlighten me

To have all in all though null and naught as you have.

Brightness to darkness,

Past to present till future,

True, lie and vice versa

Good and evil

Null to infinity

And all in all are within your limit

Endowing them at their sufficient space

But still declaring war and struggle

Among themselves within your possession

Although to all, in all and for all you exist,

Clarity and transparency you expose.

Embracing all the wars within your limit

O azure sky! Do bless me

To belong to all, in all and for all as you do.

Do bless me

To be clear and transparent as pure water

Please favor me strength

To express myself normal

Amidst wars and struggles of all kinds

All hues of the rainbow you disperse in,

But yet another colorless you’re

All forms and shapes you mould,

But yet another formless and shapeless you’re

Calamities, disasters and famines hide within you,

But still another peaceful means you deserve

All in all you’re, but yet nothing and null you’re.

O azure sky! Do bless me

To breath as you live.

Hued in all colors, but still colorless

Mould in all shapes, but still shapeless

Peace and silence within the disasters

All in all you deserve, but nothing so far.

O azure sky. Do bless me 

To be vast infinitude as you belong to.
 

Rajendra Manandhar

 Breathing Portrait 

I’m

A little bit,

A portion of this Earth

Blessing by the sky

I’m standing here

Lot of faces appeared

Someone staring at the sky

Skeletons are crying with mal-nutrition

How shivering legs

To stand on the earth, too

Their eyes are pale

In this barren field,

And arid air

Without crops from the land

How pitiable the land of Sudan

Whatever be the name

Earth is crying

Those who are carrying guns

Will you carry umbrellas instead?

Learned person with bad wishes

Whose sky is polluted?

The thirst of weapons

Touching roof of buildings

Broad roads

Stories of Atom and Nuclear

Ailments of Hydrogen and chemical

Do not all these affect us?

The eye of destruction is opening its own. 

Madhav Mool

 Short Stories in Nepal Bhasa 
 

The Wall of the Norms

By Padmavati Singh

(translated by Dr. Arun Gupto)

“How satisfied, predictable this life is” Yawning and stretching herself Susmita murmered.

It already six and the meeting is still going on. I never can return home in time.” She fell spiritless and kept on looking at Devadutta with her listless, exhausted eyes. But he was just dragging on the discussions. Without reaching any conclusion just like yesterday, the meeting was dissolved till ten o’clock tomorrow.

She fell for home after collecting some important files and filing the rest. She arrived home later than the usual after the traffic jams in Singha durbar and Gaushala crossing. She put the car in the garage and went inside. She entered into her room stretched the legs on the floor to free herself away from the whole day’s tension an exhaustion.

The getting up even before the sunrise to reach in time to the office and returning home after the illuminated city evening were Susmita’ daily routine.

She has become very busy after being promoted to the rank of the director. She had to listen to the family complaints about her disinterestedness in the family matters and the comments of the fellow officials and also the challenges of new office responsibilities. Women have to bear these double responsibilities imposed by the social structure to be both in and out of the threshold, and she is aware of this.

Things would have been different if she were a man. The air speaks of equally everywhere but it is not translated into reality, everyone knows. She thought.

After some rest she went toward the kitchen. Sipping the warm tea, she began cutting the vegetables but still she was engrossed in the complications of this evening’s office meeting.

“How people complicate things! She got very upset by Devadutta’s habit of complicating the situations with useless debates and then never reaching into the conclusion. He is an expert in presenting things in circumocuted ways. But however he tries to complicate things and the fact is that the final decisions rest o Susmita. Devadutta always tries to put blames on her and on her rank. Being a male, he suffocates himself by the   sense of inferiority to work under a woman. She slugged him off and began thinking about another family problem. Why is there this draught of servants ? In the mom’s times they used to be many. These days to get them to work, their parents ask you either to send them to schools or to give them good jobs. A few months ago when she had just freed herself from household works by arranging a peon’s job for that man, he got married and shifted to another place. Fraud! She cursed Dhanabahadur.

She would have wandered more if she had not heard the news from the Radio Nepal. After his resignation, Girija Prasad Koirala was re-appointed as the Prime Minister of the country and she started thinking about the country’s political confusions/

The pain out of the harsh realities: the greed for the political posts and selfishness of the political leaders, the increasing political, social and economic situations causing the speedy fall of the nation. She felt pain and then the future of the Nepalese ached.

Then the worldly pangs out of the news that America and Britain air raided Iraq, which killed many civilians and the protest by Indonesia and Sri Lanka on the act!

How much pangs to contain in this tiny heart! May be being an educated and conscious woman. She has to carry the family and office problems and the worldly pains too.

After cooking the meal, doing this important responsibility of a housewife, in her room, she starts turning the pages of the magazines. She had to take the help of these magazines to ait for her husband. She had the habit of reading them in the free times.

She came across the heading in Gorkhapatra Daily that read “women have to be made like men.” There are many examples of inequalities despite debates and workshops organized by women associations to give equality to women. She thought that unless there are steps taken toward the legal provisions for equality, women could not get their rights and demands.

Pulling the magazines and newspapers asides, she looked at the watch. “O my god, it’s going to be 11! Where must have he gone?” She became worried. To free herself from unwanted doubts. She looked outside the window. The next door, Usha didi was entertaining herself from the TV programs. This is her time t have fun after freeing herself from household duties. There are no fewer problems with the housewives. The problems of working women and the housewives may be different but they both suffer alike. Their stories run parallel.

After all, life is a jumble of pains and that is why one has to face it. No one can negate the truth.

Then after, she entered into the deep forest, a picture on the wall and wandered around there. Unwillingly she reached near a beautiful pond and the surprising thing was that she saw intimate scenes of Bill Clinton and Monika.

The bell rang and her chain of thought broke, she did not know when she had slept. The images of the day get space in the dreams also. She was surprised. Her son has rung from America. She made both laughed on the phone. It was her first laugh, this entire day. She continued laughing while talking to her son. “One has to grab happiness, otherwise how to live?” This was her idea about life.

After talking to her son she looked at the watch. It was exactly 13 hrs. “What’s this manner to give trouble to make one wait for the meal? When there is no helping hand, he should return in time.” She had an argument yesterday over this issue. This was his male pride, man’s showing his importance; he wanted to make the point by coming home late night too. She remembered some of the arguments. She had only told that he could not make troubles by coming late at night daily.

You can exercise your power only in your office. It’s me who rules here. What can you measure being a director?”

She could not tolerate chiding her official rank in household rows. She had retorted to calm down herself down. He has even stopped talking to her.

After she had taken this new post of the director, she had noticed changes in her husband’s behavior. He used to help and suggest in family matters, but these days he is distancing himself. He does not want to join in. He is becoming unruly and egotistical.

Now she saw two images of men in front of her. The first was Devadutta: he always wanted to put her in trouble despite being her colleague. He even can plot to displace her from the post of the director. A person with such inferiority complex can do anything.

The other image washer husband’s: his egoistic nature endeavors always to point out her  mistakes, for his own gratification.

After all they both are men!. Birds of the same feather! They cannot see women walking along side them nor can they see women above their rank and file. This male ego to consider women inferior, these misunderstanding and lack of cooperation, all these are forcing women despite their competence and strength to wriggle for value and recognition in society. For many women are the flies in the fist and there are many instances of squeezing them inside.

She went to sleep in deep thought. The barrier against women’s recognition elongated itself in front of her and it overshadowed her consciousness.

She was waiting for her husband putting aside her hunger by her thoughts. Perhaps this comes under woman’s values and ideals? The motorbike stopped in front of the gate and her waiting came to an end.

He went to bed informing her that he has already taken food outside. Now she lost her patience. She gave an angry look and controlled herself. He could have informed this on the phone. She became much angry and holding her head she started thinking.

“I have to make a final decision. And then what to decide in this mid-life phase and how to cross the barrier!” She could not think.

But how much to drag on with this bitterness? This is a grave issue not insignificant at all. She has done everything for this home to raise the income but she has never got a moment’s satisfaction.

She has been able to make her distinct social position despite bearing opposition, humiliation and chiding for twenty long years. Is this not a matter of satisfaction, the success? 

And this is an entirely different issue how she struggled for all these. She thought it better to go to bed instead of troubling herself with all the bitter remains of the day.

As soon as she saw the office files that she had to study for tomorrow, she had left the idea to go to sleep. Early tomorrow she has to jump into household works. When is the time then for all this?

She glanced at her sleeping husband.

What a difference between the lives of men and women!

This is how Susmita is going on with the responsibilities of a housewife and a director. Life is struggle after all.

And this is what an educated woman’s fate is to bear perhaps…!

But She has been winning instead and the struggle will go on.

Padmavati Singth

 The Essay 

A MOMENT WITH ART AND LIFE
By Mangal Prasad Shrestha 

Art and life! A very sweet bondage. A life has no meaning without art. A life without art is life a desert. Art helps to flow the life smoothly. Life feels blossom of spring with the help of art. Art is a partner to the life to run happily and joyously. Ups and downs of life are also associated with art. Feelings and experiences of life are possible only due to the influence of art. In other words, art helps to lubricate at every moment of life and to move forward. Without its lubrication life cannot go ahead, it becomes stationary. Hence, art also has no sense without existence of life. 

The history and civilization of human beings develops with association of art. The development of human being art present is due of the influence of art. The human being what is at its present stage is because of new technique embraced by the human being at its different stage of development otherwise the human being would be like that is at nomadic stage when he/she was naked, wild, uncivilized and hunter. If the human beings don’t understand the co-existence of art and life, perhaps existence of the human beings would have already disappeared. The human being has continued its generation because of his/her consciousness to understand the meaning of art and life. Today the human beings exist confronting multiple problems. And he/she is innovating new techniques to live more comfortably day after another and to live more happily tomorrow. And today he/she is much powerful to destroy everything he/she has developed it if so wish. It cannot be even imagined to compare the difference of power and wisdom of human being at this stage and at the stage of its first existence in this world. Today’s human being can be turned into much more savage and uncivilized than first human beings on the earth. If for a time being, he/she began to forget the importance of co-existence of art and life, the world can be turn into ashes including human civilization and its existence. 

  Pahan Chwami (The Guest Writers):

The Flag 

The boy’s shirt angers you

that it hangs by a thread from his shoulder

that it’s filthy

Your anger you take as a sign

It moves you to action

You tear the rags from his body,

and for a moment in your triumph you know not

whether to wipe your shoes with it

or raise it as a flag

That you do both in turn –

wipe your shoes

raise it as flag wipe your shoes

deepens the anger

propels you raises you above the mass

that gathers

that waits

that knows not yet

what to make of this dumb show

Your shouts

subside. You turn to them

The boy forgotton now – and what of his sister?

What flag will you make of her torn skirt

and upraised eyes?

From the Handbook of Universal Responsibility

Today Hari dies

Tomorrow Geeta rises

from he round

where she is raped

The bullet that pierces

Hari’s heart

hurries through yours

You swallow or yes you spit you

clear your throat

The hands that hold Geeta

down

are not held

back your hands

Cold fingers clean nails

Next week Geeta dies

and again

Geeta and Hari Hari Hari

There are so many

tomorrows

and ever again todays

One of them is surely yours

As all of them

are 

Wayne Amtzismailto:amtzis@kathm.wlink.com.np

Bella's game

Bella opened with a gambit,
'It's time we had a little drink.'

Wine and conversation flowed,
compliments filtered cigarette smoke.

Proposed double meaning toasts
were exchanged for flattering kisses.

Skilful moves prompted
a stratagem of accidental touching.

A subtly introduced second bottle
stimulated the middle game.
 
Soft lights and love songs
with compulsory dancing.

Unsteady steps became a smooch.
The sacrifice, 'It's getting late.'

Preceded, 'One for the road.'
Coffee laced with a dash of brandy.

This farewell ritual was repeated
before Bella's end game manoeuvre.

'You'd better stay. We'll make up
the spare bed, it's a double.'

”Check and Mate Bella.'

Dressed for the Occasion

Her black dress emphasized
curves; answered questions
before they were perceived.

High heels shaped temptation,
matching black gloves covered
scarlet nails with a reputation.

The sombre hat with black veil
bestows the traditional respect
and hide her come-to-bed eyes.

When it was over she approached
the widower, offered condolence,
kissed his cheek, whispered.

They linked arms, she guided
him into her waiting taxi.
Mourners saw them embrace

as the cab sped to her hotel.

Les Merton<mailto:les.merten@tesco.net>