It is funny how little it takes
to make a place feel different.
A familiar face, a passing thought,
the chance of seeing someone
you have no real reason to look on.

I have never known what to make of you.
Sometimes I think there is something there,
then you look straight through me
and I feel little stupid for thinking of you..

Perhaps you are simply like that.
Perhaps I have mistaken indifference for mystery.
There is no way of knowing,
and I suppose that is what gets to me.

I could ask, but I won't.
Pride has its uses, after all,
and I would rather live with a question
than an answer I cannot undo.

Still, I wish things were simpler.
I wish I could see you
without wondering if you see me too.
I wish a passing moment
could remain just that,
a passing moment,
instead of something I remember later
and examine for no good reason.

The truth is, nothing has happened.
You have given me no reason to hope,
nor any particular reason to stop.
You are simply there,
and I am left to make sense of it.

Perhaps this will pass.
Most things do, eventually.
But I suspect I will remember
how strange it was to feel so much curiosity
about someone who may never have been curious
about me at all.

What a waste, perhaps.
or perhaps not. I haven't decided yet.

Caste prejudice is far less prevalent in cities nowadays, although nothing has changed in rural regions. As a result of occupational changes, increased education, their own efforts to emulate the upper castes and consolidation of political power, urban Dalits in the Terai have moved up in status. The National Report says, "Over the last 15-20 years, six groups, namely kath baniya, Rajbhar, Dhanuk, Sudi, Kalwar and Teli have socially upgraded their status from the water unacceptable to the water acceptable community within the Tarai origin Hindu caste groups."Sundhi also known as Sodhi or Sundi or Sudi or Sudhi or Shoundika, is an Indian caste whose traditional occupation has been brewing of alcoholic drinks.[1][2][3] The Sundhis are included in the extremly backward category in the states of Bihar, Jharkhand and Odisha,[4][5][6] though according to Suratha Kumar Malik, Sundhis of Koraput district of Odisha belong to the Dalit community, who are hooch traders and do small businesses.[7] They are considered as Scheduled Caste in West Bengal, where they are also known as Shunri (except Saha). balen shah also belongs to sudi caste. even some members of sudi castes started using kushwahas surname mahato to hide thier caste now days and claim upper status vaihsya as themselves but actually they are lower middle caste in madeshi socitey just above dalits. I posted this for correct information regarding sudi caste no hate towards any community

source:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caste_system_in_Nepal

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sundhi

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/patna/sudi-community-demands-ebc-status-greater-political-representation/articleshow/121709602.cms

Everything stopped when you left me.
I had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide,
and nowhere to pour my heart out.

Who understands me as well as you?
Who loves me the way you do?

But somewhere along the way,
I forgot that it was always about me.
I forgot to see your pain,
your exhaustion,
the things you carried silently.

I’m sorry.

You must have felt drained.
You must have felt like you had nothing left to give and yet you stayed.

You stayed for us.
You stayed when it was difficult.
You stayed because you believed in us.

And now, it’s my turn to understand.
My turn to grow.
My turn to give you the space and peace you deserve.

I won’t promise that I’ll be perfect.
But I promise I’ll try to become better
not just for me, but for us.

I still believe our story has more pages left.
And I hope that someday,
we’ll turn these painful days into a memory
and find our way back to our happiest ones.

Until then,
I’ll carry the love we shared with patience,
with hope and with a heart that finally understands
that love isn’t only about holding on
sometimes, it’s about letting someone breathe.

Someone thriving for solitude

Someone cursing the lonliness

In the midst of it all,

There is the raw force

Pulling and pushing

Forever.

Someone trying to act

Someone's tired of acting

In the midst of it all,

There is the race of

Chasing and Accepting

Forever.

Someone's craving for abundance

Someone throwing off remains

In the midst of it all,

There is the rebellion mind

Snatching and Leaving

Forever.

Someone praying to be heard

Someone blessing to be tough

In the midst of it all,

There is the God

Attracting and Repulsing

Forever.

In the cosmic cycle

We claim to be superior

Surviving in a mere dust particle

Making love out of lust

Taking life out of thirst

Singing rhymes out of mind

Wearing pride as a blind fool

Just to be superior

Forever and ever

Just to be great

Just to be brave

But there lies a liar

A coward hiding behind the curtains of time,

Inside of everyone.

Forever,

Till it ends.

​

कस्तो हतार है हामीलाई,

समयभन्दा पनि छिटो हिँड्नु छ,

कहिले सम्म पो हो भागदौड,

गन्तव्य भेटिन्छन् कि त्यहाँ पुगेपछि अर्को देखिन्छ ।

कस्तो हतार है हामीलाई,

उडे सरि पुग्नु छ सधैँ,

गुमाउँदै नयाँ आशा पलाइरहे,

हतारले हात्ती सवार गराउला कि रित्तै हात राखिदेला।

कस्तो हतार है हामीलाई,

नपुगी पुगेको सपना देखिरहेछौ,

कतै न कतै कसैले केही सम्झौता गराइरहेछ,

विश्राम नै नगरि अर्को दौड तयार भैरहेछ।

aakha ta xan tara kina ho ma sansar dekhna aasafal xu
aah ma safal xu taha xa, ma sanga paisa xa, ghar xa
jindagi ma kei naramro vako xaina, chalxa tara pani sansar dekhna asafal xu

Din dinai chasma ferxu, aaina ma herxu,
ho aafilai ta dekhxu
tara sansar dekhna aasafal xu

Barima tarkari xa, kaile voko xuina, ghar ma sun xa
sampati xa, sabai khusi xan
paisa xa, paisa kamayera galxu

aakha pani thikaixan, chasma pani lakai xu
tara pani yeta huda, ma sansar dekha aasafal xu

खै, के भएको हो?

एकछिन टक्क अडिन्छु,
अनि सोच्छु—
उसलाई होइन,

उसको स्मृतिलाई।

उसलाई त मैले बिर्सेको भनेर
पनि बिर्सिसकेँ।

उसका यादहरू हिँड्छन् रे
त्यो गल्लीमा,
अझै पनि हल्लिँदै।

यताउता कराउँछन् रे मेरा
दिमागका सडकहरूमा।

सायद मलाई खोज्दै होलान् ती
यादहरूले,
बेसहारा जो भएका छन्।

अब मैले पनि हेर्न छोडिसकेँ
उसका यादहरूलाई।

त्यति हुँदा पनि कहिलेकाहीँ
लुकीचोरी जाने गर्छु म,
अँध्यारोमा।

उसका यादहरूलाई हेर्न
टाढाबाट हेर्छु।

चिने जस्तो लाग्छ,
आफ्नै भएर पनि
आफ्ना नभएको जस्तो लाग्छ।

अनि फेरि भाग्छु।

उसका यादहरूले पनि त
मलाई खोज्दा हुन्,
मानिस हराएको सूचना भन्दै।

के कुनै दिन
उसका यादहरूको
र मेरा यादहरूको
फेरि भेट होला?

होस् पनि कसरी?
अब त उसका यादमा
कोही नयाँ आएको छ।

मेरा यादलाई त
देख्नै सक्दिनँ रे।

खोजीखोजी मेरा याद फाल्छु भन्छे रे।

त्यति हुँदा पनि
उसका यादसँग मेरा यादहरूको
भेट भए भने—

उसका यादलाई नसोध्नु,
“कहाँ थियौ?
के गर्दै थियौ?
कोलाई सोच्दै हिँड्छौ?
आजकल कोलाई खोज्दै हिँड्छौ?”

थाकेका छन् दुवैका यादहरू।

एकछिन सँगै बस्नु,
अनि उसका यादलाई
“सधैँका लागि जाऊ,
अब नआऊ,”
भनिदिनू।

किनकि मान्छेहरूले त यहाँ
बिर्सिसके।

अब यादहरूलाई पनि
बिर्सिन दिनू।

To this point, I am not able to recognize how I should live, how I should talk to people, like should I just be carefree or be serious, though if I have to behave according to circumstances, I am not able to decide which side of me to show, when I try to be lively, bold in some conditions, that slams me into regret, then, when I become serious, some conditions nurture me like a child, driving me to be full of life and carefree. Also, I am not able to understand people's emotions or, what can I say, are people not friendly or just angry, are people just so busy in thier lives, so they are devastated and not to be engaged or feel happy anymore, I am feeling too much confused, and I am having crisis about the way of being social.

I'd pretend there were two of you

So her and I could share

I'd have you on holidays

She'd hold you on the bed on your birthdays

I burnt for you like dried up sage

You opened up the window to get rid of my scent

Seeing her made your blood rush to your face

You were her apple

She took your forbidden taste

You didn't just burn all the bridges

You destroyed my path to home

Now I resemble a ghoul

Wandering the earth alone

My mother warned me of your heart

She told me it's something that can't be honed

But I saw you as a trophy

A prize I couldn't call my own

I saw your ugly

But I still got you tatted on my heart

Your ink seethed into me

Nicked me like broken shards

You coursed through my veins

It was the only time you felt like mine

You slowly poisoned me

But I'd do it again everytime

If there were two of you

Maybe her and I could share

I'd give her your ugly

I'd take back what was originally mine

I'd lay by your side

She'd walk this earth blind

I'd show you off to people

Pass you as my own find

I wish you could see me, how I want to be seen

You can stab the one you love

I'll pretend like she won't bleed

Once the life gets dose of love

It wants more but not the less

And the taste once so sweet

Remains bitter when not get

Once the hands that held

Feels like empty again

Once the dose of love

It craves more and faces the pain

The mind has gone its way

And heart its way

Once the dose of love and taste

A person remains insane

The stars gazed upon nights

Sipping same old taste

From long time

Wishing hoping watching

The days turns to nights

And nights to days

Here there and everywhere

Though here but everywhere

The roads travelled by the day

To travel faster than the thoughts

Thoughts of hope

Thought of wish

And the stars gazed upon nights

On the millions stars roof

Sipping same old taste

Wishing for something new

The stars gazed upon nights

Waiting the wish come true

Locked in a cell made for one,
tell me which one should stay inside.
Should I start a massive fire
or freeze in the dark?
A campfire is not an option.
Should I get some sleep, or should I be the best?

I could go two months without speaking,
but suddenly it’s as though two mouths are talking
too reckless, too bold,
too aggressive, too bitter.
“Calm down, you’re scaring the whole theatre.”
Wait, that’s just my living room.

Never in my whole life has anyone known
what to do with me.
They make room for me, then hold their breath.
It’s harder to kill an animal
that sleeps beside you.
You’re choked out.
Save yourself.

This cell was made for one.
I thought I was the one locked inside,
smothered, breathless
but you’ve been so blue.
On sleepless nights, we both leave.
Who am I gonna put in here?

I could write you a book,
but I’ve decided not to leave a note.

We have learned to leave
before anyone asks us to.
To call it casual
before we have to call it care.
To say I’m good on my own
while checking if they’ve read the message.
We have learned the language
of almost:
almost together,
almost honest,
almost brave enough
to ask what this is.
We keep things undefined
so there’s room to hope
and room to deny
that we ever did.
The moment something begins to matter,
we start looking for the ending.
A slower reply.
A change in tone.
One uncertain sentence
we can use as a reason
to disappear first.
Because pain feels easier
when we can pretend
we chose it.
So we practice self-preservation.
We call it self-protection.
We hold our hearts back
as if distance could guarantee
they won’t be hurt.
But the moment we feel something,
we can reject it
before we explore it.
We can turn away
before asking what the feeling means,
before learning who this person is,
before finding out
what the two of us might make
if neither of us runs.
We tell ourselves
we’re protecting our hearts.
But sometimes
we’re only closing the door
before we find out
who might have stayed
or who we might have become
if we had stayed, too.
Maybe love asks for this much courage:
not a promise that we won’t be hurt,
not certainty about where it will lead,
just the willingness to feel something
without rejecting it
before we’ve even explored
what it could become.

The serpentine that drives him nuts

With her promises to escape to nowhere

Yet he follows her knowing its playing with death

The serpentine poisons him and he chooses himself

Yet he know he should run away instead

Yet he falls through the same hole

Time again and once more

To escape to nowhere nowhere to be known

The serpentine gives poisonly dose

He aware but ignores the truth

He is playing with games of death

But he chooses so

He believes what doesn’t kill him

Makes him strong

How does the ash rise again

From the grounds of fire

How does it reshape

To what it was before

The matters like before

How does it rise again

And take shape

A shape new

To form through the fumes of cloud

How does the ash rise again

Like phoenix

From the grounds of fire

From the dusts to a new

How does the fire burn the ash again

What can the fire do to ash again

What can the fire do to ash

When the ash tries to rise again

I am currently making an Independent Feature Film, basically a low budget full length film without industry recognised producers.

I am in search of a Freelance Nepali Poet (Preferably Male). Anybody interested or know anyone in your circle please comment.

Now that you've killed me

You walk the earth whole

Invisible strings, embedded down my soul

Drew blood from my arms

Used it to write you poems

Rip apart my spine

Wield it as a pen

Write you all sorrows

Weave the letters through my veins

Lay low beneath a ground unknown

Nothing to hold on to

But the roots of a weeping willow

The mites have gotten through my skin

But they all sccumbed to what I hold

You reap what you sow

Why is it that I'm the one underneath the floor?

Cling to your essence

Hug the dirt you poured

I'm the one who grieves

While it was you who held the sword

I'm now weed that grew over a shallow grave

But I was once the one who yearned to be the one you hold

Undo all my veins

Swallow whole your pulses

Grow your heart as my fruit

Our love will grow from my roots

The birds will hum the tunes of love

They'll use my bone as a flute

13.8 billion years.

Star formed,
galaxies began to move,
elements were created.

Before I even existed,
I was already there,
but not as me.

Something different.
Atoms, wandering.

Now I am a temporary arrangement,
decaying day by day,
and I care so much about this life,
as if I owe it something.

Tomorrow’s problems.
Someone’s opinion.
A decision I am afraid to make.

Those atoms were billions years old.
The things I worried about
are sometimes only an hour old .

It shouldn’t matter so much,
Should it?

How insignificant I am
In the grand picture .
Just a tiny chance
in an arrangement of matter.

And yet ,here I am.

So I stop worrying quite so much
and try to live this life,
because I know
it isn’t permanent .

One day
It will cease to be me
and return to atoms again.

The universe will take back
What it offered me.

It will continue
Without noticing my absence.

Perhaps it’s just me,
going back
to my oldest form.

Nature of pain

It’s different

From them nature of bliss

Pain hurts and bliss enjoys

Pleasure and pain

Other side of coin

One to be craved

Other to be refrained

But I question the One or Many

Why such creation

Seek pleasure

Avoid pain

Run and run

Towards the sun

Away from rain

Ohh the creator

Why such creation

To run towards

Or run away

Towards sun away from rain

Towards fun

Away from the lions den

Nature of pain

It hurts

Nature of bliss

Its fun

Why such

I ponder One or Many

why such

Love is like a board of chess

Every move has a different story to tell

I am dancing with my demons

I'll call them over tonight

We can have them as company

Do as the devil on our shoulders say

I friended one of your demons

She told me the type of games you play

I don't care being perceived ugly,

Forbid it comes from your eyes

If making love doesn't show you a glimpse of paradise

Why would I want to have your child?

Relationship is a treacherous road

I don't think you were tucked in for the ride

Devil on your shoulder

Wish I could just hold her

Sway her to the bright moonlight

I don't wish to be her

I hope you are just a hickey on her shoulder

How could I ever loathe her

When I put my selfworth upon your hazel iris eyes

When you slowly kiss her

I linger in the glint of your sight

Left me burdened with a million questions

How could you let go without a fight

You love her more but hurting me was never right

You can serve your sorrows on a silver platter

But the extinguished flint in my heart will never again ignite

चङ्गा

एक पल्ट म चङ्गा हुनेछु,

फर्किनुको डर बेगर उड्नेछु।

डोरी!

बाँधिएका डोरा का अन्त्य सम्म उड्नेछु,

सपना अल्झाएका लट्टाई नङ्ग्याई उड्नेछु।

झरी!

आँधीको माझ झरी लाई भेट्नेछु,

उड्नुको तृष्णा, उडानमा मेट्नेछु।

भय!

अब म भय नभई हुनेछु,

चिरेर बादल आकाश छुनेछु।

The happiness sprouts like a radiant network of fungus, infiltrating all roots of our anguish, and patting our back to making us asleep on the lap of hope. The butterflies rise in flock, a herd from our belly to the inside of our ribs, to the heart, flattering, but faltering about the uncertainty of life. The unpredictability of future. The precariousness of time. The happiness is like a drip of honey on the sides of your tongue, it's sweet, and pleasant, but demands a glass of misery afterwards. The cost is such unbearable, that whenever we try to be happy from the bottom of our heart, a fear lingers around if something wrong happens, because it always has. If I cut my heart into petals, and make a rose out of it, the dew drops that rise in the eary morning would resemble very brittle bubbles of dreams. Momentarily existing.

So, happiness, as you might realise, comes, but brings the dent on a wall og macabre paint of your favourite red. And, what authority do you have over it, except to see, suffer, and swing ? It's idiotic, the nature of life, it's idiotic, for nothing exists without duality, in fact, everything is asymmetric with negatives being on the larger side. A finger of pleasure, but a hand of agony. A hair strand of love, but a pony of despair. Sometimes, I'm fond of this complexity, this hypocrisy, and sometimes, absurdism takes over to the very meaning I'm trying to find, for there is essence some days, and void the other days. But what hegemony do we have over the ticks of a clock, except to saccade our eyes as it revolves, and let our skin be no more ? Life is very fragile, and when it breaks, the shards will slit the throat of many others dearly.

Is it a justice, or injustice, I don't know, but this is exceedingly uncomfortable truth to carry on. Death is morally flawed, so is life, so am I. I don't know about the other flesh, a walking meat of ridicule, but I'm morally flawed, because life has done nothing better of me, for me. It's not an unhealthy way of coping, battling, but a simple fact that life goes on anyway. And when it stops, people go on anyway. That doesn't mean a necklacr of rope adorns your scruff more beautifully than a scarf of your own knit, than a black tie of your elegance, but to possess these fibres, never lose another of your soul. That even if a soul exists. Does that make me an agnostic ? An atheist ? Maybe. Maybe not. Life doesn't care about either of them.

If I were to be an animal, maybe I'd be free then, of all these chains of awareness. Of all these benchmarks of standards. Of all these supposed integrity of moral ethics. I'd lay down naked on the dirt of a winter cold mud, and let the beetles feed on me. I'd not unfasten them for that meant ownership, and they'd be feeding on a body I no longer own.

Life is very fragile. Live a little. Die a little.

A month ago i was praying for a night where I wouldn't be crying now as soon i woke up I am already happy. I am not sure how long will it last or if my day would go good. Right now i would feel my happiness to the fullest.

Life does get better.

​

म कतै हराउन खोजिरहेछु— यो भष्मासुर जीवनका केही क्षण बिताउन। अनेकौँ सोचहरूको भीडमा आफ्नै सरल सोच र जीवन टाढा अनि कठिन बन्दै गएको छ; जुन ठाउँ र कुराहरूमा म सधैँ पुगिरहन्थेँ अनि हराइरहन्थेँ, आज ती सबैसँग म आफैँ धेरै टाढा पुगेझैँ लाग्छ, के म साँच्चै बिस्तारै सबै भुल्न थालेको हुँ र? यो समय शीतल त छ, तर भित्रभित्रै धेरै चिसो छ, अलिकति न्यानोपन खोज्न सायद म आफैँ अलि ढिला गरेँ कि? कसका र कस्ता कुराहरू सुनिरहेछु, मलाई आफ्नै भने कुनै पर्वाह र वास्ता रहेनछ। बिन्ती र याचना पनि म आफ्नै अगाडि गर्छु, अनि "किन्तु-परन्तु" का अनेक उत्तरहरू पनि म आफैँसँग छन्, तर नकस्ता छन् ती तर्कहरू जसले मलाई सधैँ अँध्यारोमा लगेर टुङ्ग्याइदिन्छन्। लागेको थियो हावाहुरीले लखेट्ने समय अब सकियो, तर अहिले त म आफैँ हुरीसँगै यताउता दुलिरहेको जस्तो भएको छु; मेरो आफ्नै बाटोको सबैभन्दा ठूलो बाधा म आफैँ बनेको छु— कस्तो चिसो समय यो!