A loner. Close the door when you leave.

Dressed in formals beneath dim light,

I sit there with my fallen pride.

A master’s degree that seemed robust,

Sits in my closet and gathers dust.

Eyes once occupied by starry dreams,

Are now restless with bosses’ screams.

Who wanted a job of nine to five,

Now slogs all day at his job to survive.

What happened to those brilliant presentations,

That filled my heart with proud elation?

And the projects, case studies and assignments,

Were they only a formality of course contents?

I left campus, with hopes so high,

The reality makes me let out a dismal sigh.

Yet I refuse to let go off my pride,

Because my hopes have not yet died.

I still believe in a future that’s bright,

Where I’ll witness the rise of my fallen pride!



Nestled in two trembling hands, a face full of tears,

What an entrance to the stage of life, oblivious of life’s fears,

A wave of smiles, a tide of sighs, a life devoid of trouble,

Encapsulated at the early age, in the protective bubble.


Wrapped in clean towels, dressed in sterile clothes,

Life begins within the bubble, safe from all the loathes,

The sweaters, the mufflers, and the scarves,

Do they defend from the problems that life carves?


From roadside food to playing in the summer heat,

They’re a sin, no matter how much we feel upbeat,

No brawl with others, no hearing of cuss words,

Learning about the explicit things, via the bees and birds.


As we move on day by day, within this protective bubble,

It wears, it thins, it rubs, it spins, and finally ends up as rubble.

And as soon as this bubble bursts, we’re exposed to the fears,

The lies, the hate, the sorrow, the fate, all hidden since all years.


The bubble is gone, the troubles knock the door, we stare at it in disbelief.

Clueless how to face those fears, and how to bring relief,

Wouldn’t it be better if the bubble didn’t exist, we faced the world head on?

We could have faced come what may, whatever was thrown upon.


Pop went the bubble, the reality struck hard,

And we were left aghast,

We fall quite hard, then pull ourselves up, we flick away the dust,

We move ahead sans the bubble, with all our mighty thrust.

The Homeland I Never Had

Death. Debris. Destruction. These three horrific words have been describing the Himalayan Kingdom since the last 4 days. It’s all over the news, social media and wherever you hear the name ‘Nepal’. That’s not how I remember my country, however short and limited memories I have of it. Despite being from Nepal, most of my life has been set up in India, far away from my homeland. But at this hour of tremendous grief, the faintest of the root that binds me with Nepal somehow manages to tug at every chord of my heart. So much so, I’m in a state of a mild shock coupled with depression. Thinking about the devastation sends a chill down my spine.

A trip to Kathmandu and Pokhra had always been on my bucket list of places to visit. The historic Pashupatinath Temple always caught my fancy. I fell in love with the snow-capped Himalayan Range at the first glance that I had while traveling on the snaky winding roads of the hills. Watching them up close had always been my dream. And the historical monuments that have attracted millions of tourists to this small South Asian country are on the list too. I bet anyone would fall in love with Nepal instantly, not only for its rich heritage but also for the warmth of its people and culture.

But the Nepal that’s staring at my face from TV, computers and mobile phones currently is not the one that I have imagined. It is a country’s capital that’s in shambles. People running with tears in their eyes and horror on their face, disheveled hair and mangled bodies, hopeless cries and tired breaths. My Nepal has always been the land of natural beauty and historical heritage. But all that remains now are heaps of bricks and mortar that has entrapped thousands beneath them. The fury of Mother Nature didn’t spare even the tourists who were there to appreciate its beauty. When will all of this end? When will normalcy be restored? Will it be ever?

I know the country of my origin needs me. I know my people need help. But I can’t go to them. Not now. Not soon. But I’ll be there someday. Among the people who’ve suffered and lost. Among the people who’ll always accept me as their own, even if for the mere fact that I’ve origins of Nepal. While my current predicament doesn’t allow me to leave everything behind to lend a helping hand to my fellow nationals, I’ll be there someday. I’ll be among them, as one of them. And when I’m there, I’ll help them rebuild what Nepal truly stands for – a beautiful country in the lap of the mighty Himalayas. Till then, stay strong my fellow brothers and sisters. It’s bad, really bad. But you’re not alone. We will overcome this disaster together. We will bring back the Nepal the world knows. We will witness its beauty yet again. We will show the world what Nepal truly is!

This isn’t about moist napkins,

Nor is it about crumpled tissues.

This surely isn’t about empty whiskey bottles,

Neither is it about big ice cream tubs.

No, there was no animated fight,

Neither was there the feeling of revenge.

Yet a lot was there to end it all,

Some issues too big, others too small.

But this is not a remembrance of all that,

No, this is not a sob story.

Instead this is a thanks for everything good,

From care to love; from dates to food,

For the precious gifts, for your comforting hugs,

The melting smiles, and the warm palm rubs.

Your trust in me, the belief in us,

For your insecurities, and also your guts,

This is a gratitude for the time well spent,

For everything you gave me, for what it meant.

Time tore us apart, it isn’t in our hands,

But our story will be told, by footsteps on wet sand. 

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