The Imprints of a Soul

(Part 1) A Labour of Love.

I admire the hands of the craftsman,
Nimble and quick,
Steady and slow.
Weaving the lives of
Those who do not know.
The same feet,
Carrying the load.
Toiling, struggling
for this chapter
to close.
Sweat, for the child
still unborn.
The pages are torn.
Wandering devotion
instilled in faith.
You have the answers.

Why do you wait?

 

(Part 2) The Trials of Time

Symmetrical to the heart
You have within,
Are the grains of sand
that make up this land.
Watch from your seat
as history is formed,
Or lies,
For all they know.
In the future,
They speak with their eyes closed.
Repeating stories
That have already
been told.
Awaiting,
an end
to a seed
ungrown.

You can’t find a place.
There is no place to go.

Bollywood is a time machine (no kiddin’)

 

— Ashesh Maharjan
https://amaharjan.wordpress.com/ 

Hindi movies are crap. And I know it isn’t the first time you are hearing this, they really are, except for few (very few). But here I am taking this challenge to write against this cliché. No kiddin’.

Hindi movies have a special place in our (Nepalese) hearts. Cheesy as it may sound, but it’s true. Whether you like it or not, whether you admit it or not, it has become a way of life for almost all of us. I don’t mean bollywood movies when I say ‘it’, I mean our secret admiration for the cheap, corny bollywood movies. Now, don’t tell me you don’t, once in a while, feel like doing nothing but sit back relax and watch a hindi movie channel. The fact that those channels stretch an hour long movie into what seems to be for ever with their advertisements matters less. You just want to get hold of the remote and turn off your mind and watch. The ‘mind turning off’ part wasn’t figurative, you can literally turn it off since you already know (not guess) what’s next in the movie.

I’m a huge fan of, say, Ron Howard or Steven Spielbergh. And I’m not kiddin’ when I say I watched this movie, as recently as a few months ago, in which the so called ‘hero’ is a dancer, singer, super-man, every good thing you could possibly imagine, and of course romantic at the same time. My point? Is that I don’t ‘not watch’ them. Reason? I feel damn good. Not good as in ‘wow!!! WTF’ good, but ‘good day, sunshine’ good. Now, don’t get me wrong, no, the director of photography of these movies aren’t at all masters, most of them are crap. Well, I know you are dying to know (LOL) where my talk is heading. Ok, here is what I mean.

Imagine yourself as me. No don’t do that. Imagine you as yourself but you are a 10 year old and you feel swell as hell because you just learned how to ride a bicycle by yourself though you sit on top tube instead of the seat coz you aren’t tall enough. You rush to tell your sister that you didn’t even notice you were riding by yourself and that you are ‘awesome!’ Your sis gives a damn coz she is a Sharukh Khan fan and Zee TV’s showing ‘Kuch Kuch Hota Hai’. And you go and lay flat on the couch and start watching, though the sound of people cycling and playing cricket just outside your room in the courtyard makes it impossible for you to fully hear the movie. These are the days when movies start making sense for the first time in your mind. These are the days when you have your first of crushes on a girl in your school. Not because she is a John Petrucci or a Blink-182 fan, but because she doesn’t cry on the way to school or she has neatly cut fingernails.

The movie ends’¦ You stretch yourself up (coz hindi movies are at least 2 hrs long and with the advertisements they are 3 to 4 hrs at the very least) and you dab your tired eyes and you open them to find yourself in the present.

Enough of time traveling. Basically, what I mean is that it’s obvious that hindi movies are the first movies that we relate to. We weren’t born movie critics. We can’t watch the first movie of our lives and tell that the plot of the movie was shitty and all. So, we have no choice but to feel fine watching these movies of our times missing our sisters and our brothers (he was the one backing up my bicycle LOL).

Flawed Nutcracker


— Ashesh Maharjan

https://amaharjan.wordpress.com/ 

Here is one good way to get an internet connection.  You go to the internet head office once a day for a week or two just to get them ready to set up a router or switch or what ever so. They agree to install not because they think they should, but because you don’t seem to give up trying and they are sick of seeing your face on a regular basis. Then you wait for a month without any signs of connection. (That’s the length of time between two full moons.) The cause? Only god knows. In fact you don’t wait. You call the office every single day for twenty days and technicians come every other day to take an endeavor to make it work. Each time they come, they have an excuse for failure. Someday they don’t have a clamper (an instrument used to staple the head of a RJ-45 cable, which looks like a nutcracker), other days they don’t bring a ladder or they simply can’t tell where the problem is.

After twenty days of futile effort, they decide that they are a little more than dubious about the 83 meters of ethernet cable which connects the switch on the electricity pole to your computer. Which means, an extra charge of Rs.83X20 if you had paid for this faulty cable, fortunately you hadn’t. You had decided not to pay a dime until you are assured of the connectivity, which was an apt thing to do.

Now this is where things get really freaky. You call the office to say how peeved you feel at what is going on. And instead of being sorry, the man on the other side literally yells at you for not paying the dues. He wants you to pay rite away if you want the cable replaced. But he wouldn’t say anything more than ‘it seems to be the only problem, can’t you see?’ when you ask if he was certain that the new cable will work. You hang up confused and enraged.

After ten days or so when you call the office to check if anything was going on, they send the same old fellows over. This time it takes them no more than a few minutes to fix up the connection. Flabbergasted by what you’ve witnessed, you ask the man to explain. And all he says is ‘It was the damn clamper. We were using a shitty clamper last month.’ Then you forgive them for wasting your month, for not treating you well enough, for being careless, for wasting your telephone calls, for still not being sorry. Finally, you hope that your little tale ends up happy. But you are still disgruntled, for the speed of internet connection you get can only be called glacial. You have already paid and you are helpless now.

Well, I’m confident that by now you have learnt that this is not a good way to get an internet connection. Now, the part that you might not know is that this is an anecdote of mine, which I thought deserves to be written. So, all the ‘you’ in the story are in fact ‘me’. And the moral of the story? It is that the thing that looks like a nutcracker is actually a clamper, and it can sometimes be a pain in the neck. And that ‘sometimes’ is more frequent than we imagine.