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Are you – A Warrior?

Dear Friend,

And ~ within all of us there is a warrior ~ There is The Bhairav – Photo by Kishor K Sharma ( Thanks a lot )

Like it was never before – have you ever tried to evaluate yourself through your own understanding of your self? By the way – do you totally understand yourself? Is it necessary to understand yourself? Where are your inner demons? How comfortable do you feel while moving with your inner demons? What theory do you use to differentiate in between  the Good and the Bad. After all whom do you call good? And whom will you regard as the Bad.

Have you ever thought about that? About how do you keep on fighting with your little invisible heart -Have you ever imagine how can little heart preserve all those threads that you call “feelings”. And now, you have created a web out of it – entangled and overlapped ~ yes all the feelings. Why don’t it act like the spider web and hold the self?

Hey~ what are your thoughts on Self? Do you realize how far have you traveled? We have always been asked the same question of “Where do you see yourself after five years?” – But let me ask you one question ~ “Where were you before five years?” Have you crawled over the mountains of fear, anxiety and helplessness and reached atop to come back again – to fall again- then to climb again.

Secret Sacred Silence

The Kiss by 19th Century Austrian symbolist painter ( And used by The Kathmandu post for this story)

After twelve days is my second marriage. People have been invited, and I am excited. Yes, this is the second time I am marrying. Oh, I am all excited to marry Surya—yes, the Sun God. I have already gotten married to the wood-apple fruit. Thinking of seeing the sun after this 12-day-long seclusion makes me anxious, nervous, happy, shy. I will be a bride—a real one—not the make-believe one I play with Kali, Chaturi and Muiyaa, without any ornaments or makup. Their caste doesn’t have such provisions as ours, which turns us into a bride thrice in life. Oh, I am so lucky that I can be a real bride three times—three golden times. My happiness today is different—it is kind of mixed, as the rituals are strange. They tickle me too. I feel tickled when I am made to do things.

“This is kwon, for scrubbing your face and taking off your dirt,” says Hajur Ma. I call her Ma.

“This is just the beginning, but you will learn shringar, the art of makeup soon,” she adds.

That means I will be allowed to use my mother’s many colours, which she puts on her lips, making them luscious, her eyelids and cheeks. The colourful bands and flowers she puts on her head. Like hers, my ears will be covered by golden earrings, my neck, with necklaces and beads, and my feet will be painted red with alaa. And the attire, yes the attire: the dark red sari along with ornaments and many things. I will look as beautiful as her, maybe more beautiful than other girls.

“We missed playing with you,” says Kali as she enters my dark room where the sunlight can’t infiltrate. (I will be seeing the sun only after the 12th day).

Protected: Off the record Poems

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