Personal Space in Nepali culture “ Hey mom! I’m going out for a friend’s birthday today would you give me some money?” This is one of my most common pickup line when it comes to persuading my mom whenever I have to go for a day out with someone special. “How many friends do you have? Do your friends have birthdays every week?” of course, I wouldn’t be attending someone’s birthdays but I’m skeptical if I’d be allowed to leave if I’ll be honest enough to say the truth. I hope you have one of yours as well. And why wouldn’t you have one if you’re a typical teenager from a Nepalese family. We aren’t to this day courageous enough to ask our parents for their permission if we are to go on a date. Perhaps, we would but will our personal space be respected then? I guess not. Being a teenager myself, I feel I lack a personal space and I’ve come to know that I’m not the only one who feels so when I’ve heard the same from my friends. The personal space can be defined as the physical as well ...

The Blank Page The outer world sleeps never, shouting on top of its voice; And why wouldn’t it? The night’s there to imbibe this noise; The blank page has a death stare at me, just as I might have for it. Maybe it would have chores pending, deadlines calling; And is in a rush to reach somewhere but is still here–maybe where it doesn’t fit? It could be empty and chipped, full of slits and painted all white without a zit. Wouldn’t it like to express itself with letters and paint with all colors and shades? Ever wondered why the page is so silent and remains that way! Maybe it knows what it feels not being heard when there’s much to say. My dear page you express yourself when I pour my feelings on you; And you paint yourself with shades when tears drop and mix with the blue; Well, my selfless page, you will never remain unheard for I’ll never stop writing on you. This poem was written as I was busy doing nothing, thinking of writing something but wit...

The November Breeze The November breeze passes over my head–smooth yet so cold, Bringing in clouds of uncertainties with it from the places long sold. I wish I could take it only as a cool gust, but it was so long-drawn­­-out, But still, I think I should just be patient this time around.  Left to my own devices, I crouch to defend myself and stay calm;  I’m skeptical if I won’t deform halfway up for the gust may transform. I struggle not to fear it and try hard to find what is bright; Perhaps, I’d be grounded enough then and pass this test alright. Now, I’m not afraid of losing my breath as I stay upright, Nor of the changes beyond my sight. “Hold on Pain Ends” for HOPE is what they say; I hold on to hope and wait for the breeze to blow away. Been long since I wrote something ;) The poem was written in November of course, as I was lying and felt a sudden gust of wind. I’d love to hear from my readers about it J Good ...