The inherent question

I am not good enough

I have this inherent belief that “I am not good enough”
All my school life, I was made to feel I was not good enough
It shaped my being, psyche and of course, that I believed that I was not good enough.
I go back to being a child and think about what I used to do when I was told that I was not good enough
I always imagined~ I imagined to be good~ I imagined to be a good person like my mother ~ I imagined I would have the best handwriting~ I imagined I would be beautiful ~ I imagined that I was helpful or successful in whatever that meant to me at that time…I imagined I was loved and that I had a partner who would see how good I was inside because for longest time I was made felt that I was ugly.
A lot of times my mother was also told that she was not good enough.
So, we always heard that about ourselves. You are not good enough.
Then what would we know about what being good means?
When our imagined realities didn’t match the real world talks that were provided to us as facts.
When we were never made to think that we could ever be good.
Then we were told we don’t deserve the things we achieved and worked hard for like a mere job? I was 19. How would I know what would make me deserve it?
Then I was 25. Same thing.
Then I was 26. Same thing
Then I was 27. Same thing
Then I was 33. Same thing.
So who decides what somebody deserves?
Who decides that when some is not good enough?
Well, today I decide that I don’t buy this narrative.

So, I tell the world that I AM GOOD ENOUGH. My Mother is GOOD ENOUGH. YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH.

This poem is dedicated to my mother and my therapist.

New Beginnings

What a year we lived through! With the Global Pandemic Covid-19

Prophetstown State Park, West Lafayette, 2020

As days blend together and become weeks and to months and to a whole year ~

Where we tread into the unknown with little knowledge and fear ~

With the most scariest emotion fear ~ we lived by while

We bid farewell to all the loved ones who went to another world into another space

Where we could never touch them but relive together with them with the memories we have made

As we navigated how to stay safe, keep on living, and keep on having hopes alive

Through our phones, laptops, and let’s not forget the hours of zooms

As we intertwined within the objects to reach to our lovely humans across time, space, and geographies

We lived through this!

Navigating the ambivalence with resilience and diligence

And, here we are a year later~ stronger like never

Cheers to the new beginning and the new year

West Lafayette, Indiana 01.01.2021

Winter Memories~ #KtmKatha

Dijju: (My Aunt, Sister)
This picture was taken sometime during 2015 while we were returning from our regular visit to temple! The poem is dedicated to her!

I

You would warm your palms
In the burning coal
Put them on my cold rosy cheeks
Because, you know Kathmandu used to be so cold.
You would brew warm cup of tea,
To hear my nonsense over it.
I would complain, it is too cold.
I would complain, Life is hard.
And, you laugh over it and say~
Tell me something new!
Then, we would laugh!
Dear Dijju, (Sister)
Lafayette was -3 last time!
I yearned for everything~
Tea and talk besides warmth.

II

We would sit over the gas heater
Switch on Television for the regular Hindi Serials
Over the LED light that glowed only over the ceiling,
And, sometimes candle.
Because, Kathmandu suffered load shedding 🙂
I would read Tales from “Swasthani Barta Katha”,
And, you will fall asleep!
And~ I would keep on reading without complaining
Sometimes, we would discuss
How women were treated in the time of “Gods”?

Call it Love (:

Call
It
Love

The fingers I touched

Hiding under the plate

I passed to you

Did you know ~ you passed me your current too?

Igniting a fire in me

With your soft touch

Under the moon

But burning inside were you too

In the bank of Bhotekoshi ..

While you are stagnant, I find myself entangled with you. ( Taken at Lumbini)

The dimming eyes and shrinking face,

Cheeks you have touched,

Do you remember how rosy they were ?

You promised me

To bring home the golden earrings,

That would light up my face,

And end

Mythical Bytes

Why I regenerate heart….everyday…

Like Prometheus’s liver….

To have it eaten….by a eagle….

Why do I roll up the boulder ?

Like Sisyphus does….

To have it fall again from the top…

“Myth or Reality”

Or is it Mythical Reality… ?