Mother nature is beautiful, she is the essence of all mankind. She completes us but having said that we know with all the good comes the bad, with light comes the darkness and i guess that is how you really appreciate the beauty that surrounds one, that is how you distinguish the bad from the ugly. April25th,2015 might have been a pretty ordinary day for a lot of people.However for a person like me that day will forever be imbedded in my memory, that day i will never forget.A day embellished by destruction and chaos.An ordinary day changed by the hands of Nature.That is what April25th,2015 will be for me.Being miles and miles away from home is hard as is, but when you wake up in the middle of the night, to the news of a 7.5 richter scale earthquake, in the very place you call home, the word “heart-wrenching” gets an entirely new meaning.The monuments, the historical buildings,the everything that signified my home land Nepal, isn’t there anymore.How is that just a day ago things were sailing smoothly and all was well and just a day after nothing is,how is that just a minute ago my country was smiling and why is that just a minute after all she can do is cry? Why is life so unpredictable and why is that at times like these I don’t really know whether to bask in the beauty of the great unknown or be terrified of the uncertainty.My heart bleeds for those who fell prey to this massive destruction.All my thoughts and prayers go out to my people.May the Gods be with you.Jay Pashupatinath!
They say when an individual meets the other,the first thing they notice,is their eyes.I couldn’t agree more to it.The first thing I noticed about him too,was his eyes.I don’t think I had ever seen eyes as innocent as his,eyes as clear as his.Just merely looking at him,I felt like I knew him and if not anything I was filled with an urge to know him better.That is how Him and I, began.
I won’t get into the details of how we are in love and how I haven’t met anyone like him.By now that’s a given.
There will be one day when I might marry him be the mother to his kids or there might be one day where I might be somebody else’s.Whatever it might be like Rumi once said”. Beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’
doesn’t make sense any more.
Him and I,I know will exist in that field where we aren’t bounded by the norms of the society where we aren’t bounded by judgement.We will forever exsist there if not anywhere.
There he will forever be my bubu and I his cho cho!!
Today is one of those days when I am happy,not overly joyous but well happy,content.It got me thinking that I never talk about things that make me happy and I whine a lot.So today this letter will be different in some sorts.
Little things give me joy
Books for one. I think I always say this.However, I don’t think I have ever told anyone why they fill me with joy.
I won’t say that it takes me away and then I become
Someone else who isn’t me and stuff because that would be redundant.
I would say that it just eases me, fills me with something that’s much more than contentment.Something that I can’t describe,yet.
Someday maybe I will be able to describe it,better.
Littlest things that people do gives me joy.
A few kind words actually touch me.
The little bits of chocolate you get in an icecream when you are least expecting it,makes me happy.
I guess you could say, it doesn’t take much, to make me joyous.
Rain gives me joy
Something about looking out the pouring window and staring at the darkest clouds gives me peace,a sort of serenity. The sound of droplets when it hits the ground,it’s extraordinary.
I don’t think I ever told a living soul this but as a kid I used to dance. I would think of myself as a dance teacher and I would just dance and dance on the rooftop of my house during winter vacations.Sounds strange right?Me dancing in the winter apart of sleeping and all, but I did. It is one of the most beautiful memories of my childhood.
Writing this I am realizing that somewhere along the way In this process of growing up I changed.
I stopped seeing the beauty In things and switched to complaining.
When did the joyous kid that was high on life always changed,I don’t know.
But I guess that is what happenes to everyone,not
Just me ,but everyone.
As kids in nursery when someone would ask us who’s the strongest I bet everyone of us would have been me,me
Because back then we were pure, we thought of ourselves as the best.But if someone were to ask us the same question in grade 1 we would have named a certain someone because that’s what society does. It teaches us that not everyone is strong it makes us doubt ourselves and categorize ourselves as intelligent, dumb, pretty ugly.
And we no longer think of ourselves as the best.
You get the drift?
I am not saying I am a bad person now I am not saying I have degraded myself.
All I am trying to say really is how different life would be if we could go back to being little when we weren’t corrupted by the need to be something we are not
When we weren’t forced to mold ourselves to better adapt to our group of friends or to our society
How different would life be if we would not know the rights and the wrongs of the world and we could just be “us”
How Beautiful would life be if there was no completion
No comparison and we could just be happy
How different would things be if we could live in the moment and enjoy things like being licked by your dog, getting a surprise visit by your parents at the school.
How perfect would life be if we weren’t made to grow up and fight for our place in the society?
How extraordinary us humans would be there was nothing called money
If there was nothing as bad thoughts
And just like when little we could just be the purest and truest version of ourselves
I don’t think there is and there will ever be, anything as joyous as being a little kid who thought of himself and herself in the highest order.
With all my love
A spine-chilling breeze hums in my ear. Heavy rainfall touches my shoulders and caresses my face; I am sitting on the windowpane of my room that overlooks the balcony. Ever so often I like to sit by myself and think. The rain gives me serenity and even though for a few minutes I am transported to a utopia. Sitting in the rain helps me escape all the chaos and inner turmoil that has been engulfing me lately. I have a decision to make. A decision that will determine the path I have to embark on.
My father’s word still echoes in my mind. He trusted me with this. This might probably be the biggest decision I was ever subjected to take in my nineteen years of life. The one that will forever stay with me. . He summoned me to his room earlier today and had said-“Asmita you have a decision to make.” For many this decision might be easy to make effortless even but for me it is tough. Fear of the unknown, the fact that I might mess things up scares me.
I reminisce all the things I have done with my family, my friends, my siblings here in this very place I call and take with my whole heart to be my home. It feels like yesterday that I was playing hide and seek with my brothers that I was screaming at them .My eye falls upon my window pane. The windowpane I call the pane of memories. As I look through the windowpane I see old markings. I look at the different colors I used to draw. Each portraying a story of their own. Red crayon, I used to draw ludicrous picture of my brother when he was mad at me. The way I used green to draw a sad personification of the grumpy old tuition teacher of ours to cheer my brothers up when our tutor got on our nerves. I look at the windowpane and I smile, I smile thinking about all the we were and all that we will someday be. Each and every corner of my house holds some sort of beloved memory of us. Us as a family us as siblings us as people slowly trying to morph from naïve childhood days to adulthood.
I recall fighting over something as small as who gets the remote control, I recall smashing my brother’s fingers in the door mistakenly when he tried to get inside the television room .I recall blood dripping down his fingers and the murderous look he gave me .I drown myself in memory lane so deep tears start to stream down my face. Its bittersweet .I have spent nineteen years of my life in this house I have grown with my brothers here I have learned from my parents here I have grown emotionally and physically here. I have never known life outside this house and outside the love of my parents. I have never known anything but to be a caring daughter to my parents and a pain to my brothers.
I look at my dog that is now wagging her tail and is trying to get my attention. I remember the circumstances under which she became a part of our home. I was heartbroken when my first dog Bruno passed away. I cried a river mourning his death .My brothers, my parents made sure I was okay. They were my rock at times when things were tough. As soon as I recovered from Bruno’s death they got me Lucky my new dog. Bruno will forever hold a special place in my heart but the void, which he left behind, was gracefully fulfilled by Lucky.
“Asmita your future is in your hands. Either you stay here in Nepal with us and pursue your higher education in the prestigious Kathmandu Management College that you qualified in or you go to a foreign country be independent and enroll in the college that you qualified in too. What will your decision be? Which college will you pick? Where do you want to go?”-my father had said.
Coming out of my memory lane I observe my surroundings and see that, in the blink of an eye, the night has been swept away into the dustbin of the past and a new day is upon me .The sun like a great golden disk rises across the sky to greet me. It shines in my hair and glitters in my heart. I see the overcast fog of my clouded mind fading away .The decision now doesn’t seem to be as daunting to take, as it was a few hours before. I steal one last look at my room, my windowpane, and my dog I inhale the sweet air of my country and decide its time. Time for me to get out of the bubble of protection my parents have always given I decide its time for me to break free and be liberated. I will carry my loved ones with me in my heart always but I decide its time for me to break the mold and embark on the journey of the unknown in a foreign country without anyone to look after me every step of the way.
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