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Tag: Nepal

Home > Posts tagged "Nepal"
The Graduates

Dalli Maya sat on the handrails of a steel parapet which provided enclosure to the café. The café was on a cul-de-sac with alleys wrung in all directions. She wore a red ribbon around her braids as rings of her hair shone colorfully in the languid September sun. Goloman assuming a meek countenance produced smoke ringlets which slowly drifted and grew as it moved towards an emaciated cat and suddenly garlanding the fascinated creature made it purr gently and in wonder. Dalli passing the blunt to Goloman coughed, laughed and unveiled her plans happily and readily. It had been a week since they had graduated from the university and they felt like king and queen of the world. They had passed the dreariness of university with a sense of self-righteousness and languor. Now with a step into the unknown and another into the past, they found the company of each other more exciting and it gave them tranquility and confidence. They were in the summer of their lives and they were young, carefree, loving and not cynical enough. They spoke with each other with their eyes, smiling, pondering and embracing the moment of time which would never return even though it was filled in love, friendship and innocence. Suddenly, they had admitted each other into their confidence and shared their hidden thoughts, desires and outlaid brilliant plans for future. In the eternal day they became nutty professor with penchant for feet. An evil environmentalist lawyer. A real estate mogul in love with hooker. A gigolo. A pimp. A millionaire coder who promoted peace among worlds. An assassin politician who pursued rapists. A filmmaker with hot troupes. In the sublime moment of happiness, they were engulfed in incoherent and rash conversations leading to raillery, jokes and denunciations of all sorts, clanking their steel voices in clashes of inane excitement, furor and nonchalance; and when an unrestraint feverishness led them astray their joviality ended up in such a passionate sequence of kisses, which like a storm that gradually engendered a violent spiral of libidinal desires and carnal appetites for which they were readily thrown out of the café. This full time fun suddenly changed in matter of months. Dalli Maya’s happiness knew no limits when her father having been elected the new mayor of municipality obtained for his daughter the position of social mobilizer in office. She spent her days fooling around…

Nirmala !

If I were a priest, I’d pray to the gods For they seem only to listen to men Who banter and applaud Cheap nudity. Manly gusto. Tore up labia. Bloodied justice. I lament! I lament- Birth. Caste. Boobs. Country I am - In mercy from wedding makers In anguish from son seekers In between dicks and dishes Under duress, naked esteem. If I were a priest, I’d pray to the gods To give birth to men Who love strangers as much as they love themselves.

Your Father Needs a Cow in the Afterlife

1 The rickshaw screeches to a stop by the blue wooden doors of the shop, not even tall as its proprietor, having to duck every time you take the doors. It's a series of doors, sturdy wooden planks that open like a Chinese folding fan, metal hinges needing oil in the cold. Opening the doors in a series of grumbles while its clacks lets fluorescent lights pour into the dirt street and the rear end of the rickshaw. Dumping a squeezed cigarette pack with ‘555’ on its side while brushing his shoes on a rubber mat on the doorstep, he enters his shop. It was also home of late. The rickshaw driver looks through the open doors at the shop. He sees a sleeping shop. Done with all its labors the harmonium shop lies in chaos, at least for the rickshaw driver. He sees the gentleman coming back, cash in hand. He takes it graciously, the green notes crispy in hand. Pulling out of the dirt, he pushes and jumps onto the pedals, the road is empty now, and he is in a hurry. He shoots through the streets that take him to the middle of the city. Now they have made the road go around the ground, in a circle to the dark statues of the persons long past. He didn’t mind he had to go all the way around that new road, paying homage to kings, generals, tyrants he never knew. He didn’t mind that the way took him longer, under the gates of the dead heroes of things long past. He whistles through cold winds of a sleeping city nestling in the warm embraces of stillness. Doors to the harmonium shop closes. There is a sharp note of a harmonium key when it shut, maybe not. The front of the shop is crowded with unfinished pieces with jut out wires like bones of an unfinished being on the table of creation; wood scraps and dust lie on the floor, bile and excrements. Through a small cream-colored door in the back, a darker and even narrower space exists. All the junk on the shop floor was meant to be here, in the storage. Now there is just a bed. “Anything happened today?” She asked every day. Every day like this, seven months. He said nothing. They knew. He pulls, presses a switch hanging itself on a spiral blue…

Nine Years as a Call Center Agent

It was back in the year 2009, I chanced to read a book which I would later be thankful for influencing my life in a way which that it helped me grow into an audacious and strong-willed person that I feel I am today. Chetan Bhagat’s One Night at the Call Center, a profound masterpiece would later encourage me to become a part of call center industry in Nepal and would also set a benchmark for my professional conduct.    As a sixteen-year-old teenager, now free and directionless, thrust directly and unprepared from a decade of hostel life at Budhanilkantha School (BNKS), I was now seeking for job opportunities. In school, everyone was equal but now the financial disparity between me and most of my batch mates were real and wide. To survive in Kathmandu, I had to fight against all odds set before me and in the meantime, discover myself. As fate would have it, I chanced to stumble upon a temporary job opening at a Call Center. I had but little clue that I would work and hone my professional skills as a call center agent for a long time to come. Another decade long journey ensued (in this field) and my journey so far has been exciting, adventurous and filled with of setbacks and comebacks. At this point of time in life, I am proud to say that I am now working as a Freelance Sales Consultant at my own home-based office, registered as NEXT WEB LLC. at United States of America. The memories that have been created through this long and arduous journey will stay with me forever. Prior to landing my first job as a Junior Sales Executive at Uniweb Technologies, I had to go through weeks of extensive training at Kumaripati, Lalitpur. Based in Kathmandu, Uniweb Technologies was one of the most thriving Call Center at that time. A two week call center sales training would cost me twenty-five hundred rupees; but to my dismay, I had but mere seven rupees in coins in my pocket. I nervously borrowed five hundred rupees from a close friend of my brother and fifteen hundred rupees from an aunt. I was still short of five hundred rupees. But as luck would have it, the owner of Uniweb Technologies chanced to be a maternal uncle of a BNKS junior. He amicably waived the remaining fee. I learned a…

Ebooks

Buy E-books from contributing authors of The Kathmandudes.  Fear and Loathing in Kathmandu, A Confession – Short Story Series  Publisher : The Kathmandudes Year: June, 2010 ... 2. Fear and Loathing in Kathmandu, The Moraliste of Bhaktapur, Short Story Series  Publisher : The Kathmandudes Year: December, 2017 ...

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