Life in a Metro........................

Starting a day with a scarcity of milk in the nearby shop is the fate of common kathmanduites these days.As i am lazy as always it wont affect me much but the college people and others are tremenduosly tortured by this early scarcity.
The scene of Kathmandu these days is just like the ravaged nation after the terrible war.Nothing is easygoing.Everyone seems to be calm and coping with the situation quite nicely but the sense of frustration among the city dwellers terrorized me.This frustration a week more, can spark a serious anarchism in the city.
Shortage of gas,long cue of petrol and diesels, scolding each other for a litre of petrol,long night of taxi drivers inside there vehicles,alternative method of petro product distribution are some of the frustrating parts city dwellers are facing now a days.
I am quite surprised by the resilience of Nepali people.I dont know whether they are accustomed to these hardships or are accepting this hoping for something to happen.Its really surprising.
Finally there's a news of agreement between government and coalition of Madhes parties and i, along with others,am hoping for the normalization of this scarcity in the city.But things are not normal yet as was suggested by the news of Siraha last night where a group of unidentified people kidnapped school headmaster from his residence.There's a long way to go still to politically correct this politically ravaged country.
But as always ,a selfish me, hoping and dreaming for no lines of petrol in the petrol station and 2 cylinders of gases in the "bajeko gas pasal" near by.I am hoping for that much so that morning college goers don't have to escape their early cup of tea.

Love Letter

Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch,
no-Nor leave me to set my small bald eyeSkyward again,
without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.
That wasn't it. I slept,
say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter-Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisledCheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt.
They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me.
Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.
And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dewLimpid as spirits.
Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.
Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice.

It's a gift.



Sylvia Plath

Never Try to Trick Me with a Kiss

Never try to trick me with a kiss
Pretending that the birds are here to stay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.
A stone can masquerade where no heart is
And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.
Our noble doctor claims the pain is his,
While stricken patients let him have his say;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.
Each virile bachelor dreads paralysis,
The old maid in the gable cries all day:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.
The suave eternal serpents promise bliss
To mortal children longing to be gay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.
Sooner or later something goes amiss;
The singing birds pack up and fly away;
So never try to trick me with a kiss:
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.


Sylvia Plath

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