<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855</id><updated>2011-11-03T06:25:03.242-07:00</updated><category term='Fashion'/><category term='Culture'/><category term='Literature'/><category term='Response'/><category term='Tourism'/><category term='Guest Column'/><category term='Nagendra Sharma'/><category term='Buddhism'/><category term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Nepali Social Studies</title><subtitle type='html'>This is a blogsite especially devoted to Nepali literature, tourism and other social and spiritual issues, and managed by Mr. Sarad Pradhan. Mr. Pradhan is a regular contributor to newspapers and magazines on tourism, social and special issues. He is an avid of world literature and loves to write in English about Nepalese literature, social life and spirituality.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>89</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-2293286136407942480</id><published>2011-09-13T04:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T04:49:07.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kathmandu Literary Jatra</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Geneva, sans-serif, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;The Kathmandu Literary Jatra is a three-day literature festival taking place from September 16 to 18, 2011. The festival's objective is to provide a platform for literature from Nepal to engage with its international counterpart. The festival seeks to take Nepali literature on to the global stage.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;The Literary Jatra will be held at different venues within the Patan Durbar Square complex. The festival is the first of its kind in Nepal. It will host 30 national and 10 international writers and poets. They will take part in readings, workshops and hold thematic discussions on various topics pertaining to Nepal and South Asia in both a socio-political and literary context.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-2293286136407942480?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/2293286136407942480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=2293286136407942480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2293286136407942480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2293286136407942480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2011/09/kathmandu-literary-jatra.html' title='The Kathmandu Literary Jatra'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-3406668503111719720</id><published>2011-08-28T02:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T02:57:47.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Years in Europe</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Muluk Bahira Ma &lt;/i&gt;(When outside the Country)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;By Lain Singh Bangdel&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;Edited by&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;by Dina Bangdel and Devendra Bhattara&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;Ratna Pustak Bhandar&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;497 Pages&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;Rs. 695&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt"&gt;By Sarad Pradhan&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Growing up as a teenager inclined to reading and writing, the image of Lain Singh Bangdel that I perceived was that of an accomplished writer. Perhaps that was because of reading his novels like &lt;i&gt;Langada ko Sathi&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;(Friend of a Lame), &lt;i&gt;Maitighar &lt;/i&gt;( Maternal House), and &lt;i&gt;Muluk Bahira &lt;/i&gt;(Outside the country), and not knowing much about other facets of his personality. But after many years, having met him personally and visited his house to see his paintings, my original impression of Lain Singh Bangdel disappeared from my mind.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The portrait that I made of him in my mind was different from what he was. So I made a new image of him in&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;mind: Lain Singh Bangdel, the man of art, culture and literature.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Published almost one year ago posthumously, &lt;i&gt;Muluk Bahira Ma &lt;/i&gt;(When outside the Country), a compilation of dairies and letters that was exchanged between Mr. Bangdel and his wife and other contemporary writers is a new experiment &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;in the literary arena of Nepalese literature. This book is not only his personal diary but a testimony of Mr. Bangdel’s struggle in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Europe&lt;/st1:place&gt;, his quest for &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;identity, and his search for love and existence. Written in simple and lucid way, this book takes us back to Europe in the fifties; the Europe that just came out of Second World War, politically polarized and socially unequal. Born and brought up in Darjeeling, studied under the stalwarts of Nepali language and literature like Surya Bikram&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Gywali, Dharnidhar Koirala and Parasmani Pradhan, Lain Singh Bangdel, from the very beginning, was attracted to literature and painting. His thirst for excellence took him to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Calcutta&lt;/st1:city&gt; to pursue higher studies in art and painting, and later to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:city&gt; and &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Paris&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. Unlike today’s world narrowed by jet, his voyage was tedious and mundane. Starting from February 13, 1952, it took him almost 40 days to reach &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:city&gt; from &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Calcutta&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. And, he wrote about all the places he saw or came across, and the people he interacted with during his voyage in the ship. He spent almost 10 years in Europe, studying&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; fine art in Paris at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, mingling with the likes of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Picasso" title="Pablo Picasso"&gt;&lt;span style="color:windowtext;text-decoration:none;text-underline:none"&gt;Pablo Picasso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Braque" title="George Braque"&gt;&lt;span style="color:windowtext;text-decoration:none;text-underline:none"&gt;George Braque&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt;and made a name for himself as an artist with his distinctive, non-traditional Nepalese style. His penchant for writing on the life of a great painter could be seen in his biographical novel ‘Rembrandt’ which tells the life story of a famous Dutch painter&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn. It resembles ‘The Moon and Sixpence’, a novel by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Somerset_Maugham" title="William Somerset Maugham"&gt;&lt;span style="color:windowtext;text-decoration: none;text-underline:none"&gt;William Somerset Maugham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt;loosely based on the life of the painter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background:white"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Gauguin" title="Paul Gauguin"&gt;&lt;span style="color:windowtext;text-decoration:none; text-underline:none"&gt;Paul Gauguin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One of the most interesting things in this book is the exchange of letters between Lain Singh Bangdel and his lover Manu who later became his wife. Various adjectives that he used for Manu while addressing her in the letter coupled with his sermon on the challenges in the life appears to be romantic and realistic.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The letters and diary that Mr. Bangdel kept&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;were full of&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;longing and yearning, telling us their family background and their common interest. Living in same city- &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, they were destined to live apart: &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Manu was pursing nursing course, and Lainsingh was struggling to create identity in art circle with financial constraints. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Muluk Bahira Ma&lt;/i&gt; is a kaleidoscope that brings the sweet memories of &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Europe&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;closer to us like a movie. It tells us a story about young Bangdel who worked hard to achieve something in his life despite having to endure &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;’s extreme cold weather without fire and enough food to eat. During his continuous ten-year stay in Europe, he exchanged letters with his mentors Dharnidhar Koirala and Surya Bikram Gyawali, and famous writers like Guru Prasad Mainali, Balkrishna Sama, Kamalmani Dixit, and &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;these letters reveal so many things that are related to Nepali literature and his personal life crippled by lack of money to sustain his life in Europe. But he never gave up his dream. In &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:city&gt; and &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Paris&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, he got to meet many Nepali dignitaries including&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;background:white"&gt;Bishweshwar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;color:black;background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Prasad Koirala.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In a letter addressed to Mr. Bangdel, &lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;background:white"&gt;Bishweshwar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;color:black;background:white"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Prasad Koirala, Former Prime Minister of &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and an eminent writer writes, “It has been a pleasure to know you and your charming wife in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. My visit to the Tate Gallery in your company was extremely educative. I missed you in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Paris&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, where the magnificence of the Louvre left me stunned………….. I think of you a great deal to organize our aesthetic movement after your return from &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Europe&lt;/st1:place&gt;. We have some good artists in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, but they are too parochial and deprived of the life-giving contact with the movement in arts and literature in the West.”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It clearly indicates the role that Mr. Bangdel played in ushering in modern art in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The writing of Lain Singh Bangdel in this book is like his painting: full of colours, and descriptions. But&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;unlike his abstract paintings, the book is easier to fathom. Edited by Dina Bangdel and Devendra Bhattarai, &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Muluk Bahira Ma&lt;/i&gt;(When outside the Country) presents the most difficult and productive part of Bangdel’s life. The book helps me to understand the Bangdel that I knew during my college days, and the one I met later in a comprehensive way. To understand Bangdel and contemporary &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Europe&lt;/st1:place&gt; through his writing, this is the book that you should not ignore. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;(Published in Readers' Journal 2011)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-3406668503111719720?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/3406668503111719720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=3406668503111719720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3406668503111719720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3406668503111719720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2011/08/ten-years-in-europe.html' title='Ten Years in Europe'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-824021929404490056</id><published>2011-03-05T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T22:32:57.749-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Diamond Shumsher: A Doyen of Nepali Literature</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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 mso-fareast-language:#0400;  mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:23pt;"  &gt;By Sarad Pradhan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;Do you know the rise and fall of the Rana Regime? This question brings together fact and friction in a very vivid style in Seto Bagh, a legendary historical novel based on the rise of Rana Regime in Nepal. It shapes the narrator’s search for the connection for the recovery of lost information or repressed experience for the details of great trauma or joy that have receded in the archives of public or private memory. And, the narrator of this family profile is no other than the member of the same family which ruled Nepal for 104 years- Diamond Shumsher Rana, the doyen of Nepali literary circle. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;               &lt;/span&gt;Diamond Shumsher Rana, 78, is still dynamic and energetic writer. Then as an army man, he never thought of choosing pen instead of gun as part of his life long career. Turning point of his life came when an unforgettable incidence compelled him to change his course of life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The incidence had taken place in his early twenties. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;              &lt;/span&gt;“It was 1947. One fine day when I was playing cricket with late general Madan Shumsher, the tenth man in the role of succession, he told me that he had to go to a special meeting at Singha durbar. He accompanied me too. Besides, high ranking Rana officials, the then British Ambassador to Nepal was also explaining the departure of British from India. Ambassador told them to breach the Sangauli Treaty and to annex the land belonged to Nepal prior to the treaty. But they refused saying that the people of Darjeeling were politically conscious and would ask for Democracy,” he recalls. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;“After meting I told Madan Shumsher it was a good deal. Instead of agreeing with me, he asked me to keep quiet. This news instantly spread among the Rana officials and they branded me revolutionary.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There was no one to help me for I neither knew anybody in the grassroots level nor in upper echelon of the Rana family. So, I decided to take up literature as a medium of expression and livelihood,” he further says. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                &lt;/span&gt;Hence, &lt;i style=""&gt;Basanti&lt;/i&gt; his first novel came out, not from Nepal but Banaras in 1947, the time when the power of Rana was in zenith. To his dismay, only a few people look interest in his work and very few copies were sold. In Darjeeling, the sales went up to two hundred copies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                     &lt;/span&gt;“I took up historical novels to express my feeling because I found no other form of expression efficient to carry my feelings of parliamentary system of Democracy of Nepal. I have tried to show the failure of Rana system in these books, giving ample paradigms the failure of Rana was that in ruling the country they totally slaughtered the Democracy,” he explains. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                   &lt;/span&gt;Diamond Shumsher Rana is regarded by the critics as the first important historical novelist. His &lt;i style=""&gt;Basanti&lt;/i&gt; (1949), which have been translated into Hindi, describes the event upto the rise of Rana in 1846. The fabric of the work is centered on fictious character Basanti and the writers attempt is to present the historical tragedy. His next novel &lt;i style=""&gt;Seto Bagh (&lt;/i&gt;Wake of the Tiger&lt;i style=""&gt;1973),&lt;/i&gt;which have been translated into French, English and Japanese has its central character Jagat Jung, the son and the successor of Jung Bahadur Rana and the events cover the period after the death of the Rana supremancy. Rana’s&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Pratibaddhata &lt;/i&gt;(Committed) came out in 1977, Satprayas(True Attempt), the second part of &lt;i style=""&gt;Seto Bagh &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;in 1091 and Anita in 1986.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;Diamond Shumsher, who was thought to be a revolutionary by the Ranas, had been inside the jail during and after the Ranarchy. The two much acclaimed novel in the eyes of readers: &lt;i style=""&gt;Basanti&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i style=""&gt;Seto Bagh&lt;/i&gt; are the finest creation of Diamond Shumsher which he wrote inside the jail.&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:23pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Though his writing what he has been trying to show is the power gimmick whether during the Rana regime or after it. “The Rana rule was a burning example of success of Rana administration. They ruled Nepal for 104 years. But during the Rananarchy the most suffered a lot were Rana themselves. Because of the wealth of the Rana Prime Minister passed over only to his family and rest had to content with what they had,” he says.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;To gather mammoth information on the history of Rana is not a joke in itself. But as a member of a Rana family, he did not find much difficulty in gathering information for his novels. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;Diamond Shumsher, who believes in democracy, was the district president of Nepali Congress, Patan branch when the then government arrested him after the enactment of Panchayat system in Nepal in 1960. He stayed six years inside the jail and brought out Seto Bagh, a much-talked novel in Nepali.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;Dan KO Dhaba, his latest novel is based on the Panchayat system.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In this novel, he tries to explain how people used to get rich in the Panchayat system. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;He is said to be the only writer who has made money out of literature in Nepal. “After spending years in jails, I had no contact with the outside world and the only thing I knew was writing. And, I found writing the only way to earn my livelihood.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;The French translation of Seto Bagh took him to France where he was treated well as they thought he would get rich after the grand sale of his book. But it proved wrong not because of the book or Diamond Shumsher but because of their market strategy. After his departure to Kathmandu, the publishers wrote back that the first edition of the book could not go well because the booksellers of Europe refused to accept his book as Nepali literature has no great literary history. And, Japanese publisher also replied in the same tone. “If we want to see our literature grow, we must translate them in English. The Royal  Nepal Academy should come forward to start this noble venture,” he says.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;“My books are taught in Banaras Hindu University and North Bengal University but widely neglected by Tribhuvan University,” he laments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;After suffering years in the jail, what did he achieve after all? “Democracy,” he says, “but it gives me freedom of expression। There is no big achievement for a writer other than it.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;( The article was published in The Kathmandu Post in 1996)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-824021929404490056?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/824021929404490056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=824021929404490056' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/824021929404490056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/824021929404490056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2011/03/diamond-shumsher-doyen-of-nepali.html' title='Diamond Shumsher: A Doyen of Nepali Literature'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-9062567384677266713</id><published>2011-02-25T02:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T22:30:16.670-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tourism'/><title type='text'>Mission One Million</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:10.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ansi-language:#0400;  mso-fareast-language:#0400;  mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 4in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;By Sarad Pradhan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Mission One Million has become a buzz word in the tourism industry of Nepal. In Visit Nepal 1998, it was Mission Half a Million that made headline to many newspapers and magazines and was a theme of numerous seminars and workshops across the country. And, paradoxically it succeeded to achieve its mission a year later but plunged into a grave situation after its success. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Since the announcement of Nepal Tourism Year 2011 in 2009, everybody related with tourism industry be it the government official or tourism entrepreneur, all are euphoric about this Mission. Their euphoria is clearly reflected in the statement they make about its success. A few have played a safer side saying that One million is not&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;part and parcel of the Mission in the broader sense, it is just a target without which nobody takes it seriously. Perhaps it may be right if other countries set same quantified target while celebrating Tourism Year. But, largely, they ignore the fact that there are many factors that have to be taken care of before inviting one million tourists to Nepal. Some rightly say Mission One Million is just a means to an end. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Acknowledged by all as a backbone of economy, tourism, so far, has not been accorded the status of an industry, the fact that everybody seemingly prefers to ignore. It has hindered the natural growth of tourism industry in the country. Because of lopsided policy of the government, many tourism potential areas of the country are being neglected. No tourism entrepreneur wishes to take risk of opening hotels and resorts in an area which lacks basic infrastructure. And, there is no incentive from the government side for those who gambles by opening one. Diversification of products is in the agenda of Mission One Million. But it will not materialise unless government takes strong decision to develop an area funnelling its resources. Private sector has to work in tandem with government to make sure that it invests in the area and promote it internationally. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;The main objective of Mission One Million to create&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; the economic and employment opportunities in the country by using tourism as the vehicle of growth for the physical, social and economic development of the country.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The trend that we have seen so far is very optimistic; and there is no doubt we will be closer to Mission One Million by the end of this year. But are we ready to provide hospitality that is benchmark of our tourism. Over a dinner recently a senior executive of Boeing company was complaining us that there was no AC in the chilling winter of Kathmandu in a four star hotel. Nobody knows what experience he would take back and what would he tell his friends about Nepal. He told us flatly that Nepal should invest its resources in improving infrastructure if it wishes to cater a large number of tourists in Nepal. Service improvement, though, is one of the key objectives of Mission One Million, there is no strong mechanism to monitor the level of service provided by our industry. To ensure the quality service in all sectors of tourism, the government must formulate a strong monitoring mechanism. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Over the last several years, people have taken tourism for granted. They succinctly claim that infrastructure is not a hurdle for tourists to come to Nepal because they are here not to experience what they already have experienced in their country. It could be true to some extend. But to attract quality tourists, we need to have basic amenities that are required everywhere in the world- a universally accepted norms. Overflowing urinal at the airport, dirty linen at hotels, unsafe domestic flight,&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;dilapidated-looking airport cars, pothole and unruly traffic jam are perhaps &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;a few things that nobody desire to see in the much awaited vacation.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Mission One Million has another objective to develop and promote tourism products with continuous focus on adventure tourism, jungle safari, cultural tourism, MICE tourism and Eco-Tourism. Products are being developed by private sector at their will without accessing impact and claiming it as their own brainchild. Many events which could have bigger impact internationally are being marginalized. These events should be promoted internationally under one umbrella with more focused on the ones that have comparative advantage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Product development should be given serious attention.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Here is also a need to break out of the traditional nature culture mode and to consider alternative products aimed at the children and older age segments of the markets. Old people targeted Grey tourism has become very popular worldwide. As demographic trend is changing drastically worldwide, the first world countries like Japan is slowly becoming a home of old people. These people have a considerable amount of disposal amount of money but don’t have a caring family to look after them. They want to spend their life in comfort to be cared and loved. Nepal can step in to attract this segment with proper law. This could be a good product for us in the long run.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;To fulfil the objective of Mission One Million, the role of the government at all levels should be to facilitate the development of tourism through planning, setting the right regulatory environment, developing infrastructure in partnership with the private sector, promoting Nepal as a destination and ensuring product development and quality.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The private sector should deliver the basic tourism goods and services to tourists. The role of the government should therefore be that of a facilitator or helper, not necessarily a leader.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;Mission One Million expects many things from private sector. But what would they get apart from the profit they make? Tourism entrepreneur should quiz it. Tax holidays should be given to tourism entrepreneurs for earning foreign currency. Tourism entrepreneurs are now at the crossroads; trapped in the vicious circle of trade union and apathy of the government.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Many hotels and resorts are still not functioning well due to unnecessary inference of&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;trade union. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;We are often asked by tourists and international travel agents alike about the special promotional package being offered during Mission One Million. But it is not possible for Ministry of Tourism and Civil Aviation alone to announce exemption or reduction in entrance fee or visa fee. Other government agencies are not tourism friendly because they are focused only on generating revenue but not in facilitating the mechanism that enables to generate it. Nepal is still not friendly country for film and documentary makers. Even the television channels that come to Nepal for promotion of Nepal’s tourism are being charged astronomically everywhere. They have to go to at least half a dozen departments to obtain permission for shooting paying hefty levy. So how could we expect international promotion and publicity with so many barriers that we created ourselves? If the government cannot provide subsidy to international film makers and television channels, least it can do is &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;not to create unnecessary barrier&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;by charging heavy fee. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;Parameter of success of Mission One Million is not to bring a million tourists only but also to show the world that how satisfy it make the tourists who visit Nepal and how much economic benefit it provide to the people of Nepal. Together for Tourism will be successful when a resort owner of a far-flung sigh with relief on finding some money in his pocket.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;(View expressed here is writer’s personal opinion. &lt;span style=""&gt;This &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; article is published in NATTA's Souvenir issue 2011&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 17pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-9062567384677266713?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/9062567384677266713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=9062567384677266713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/9062567384677266713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/9062567384677266713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2011/02/mission-one-million.html' title='Mission One Million'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-8007948096642651064</id><published>2010-12-14T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T20:23:05.352-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Govinda Bahadur Gothale: Stories with New Dimensions</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:10.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ansi-language:#0400;  mso-fareast-language:#0400;  mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -0.75in; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:24pt;"&gt;-बी     -by Sarad Pradhan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;To many he seems to be a non existent writer who has been lost to oblivion. And it’s because he rarely appears in public and seldom talks to press. Perhaps, he is most widely read but less known writer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Govinda Bahadur Malla, 74, popularly known by his pet name “Gothale” is a part of his family legacy. Inspired by father Riddhi Bahadur Malla&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;, the founding editor of Sardha, the most&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;prominent literary magazine of pre and post democracy era(1950). Gothale entered the literary realm at the age of eighteen and kept on writing till he reached forty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;During his childhood, Malla’s was the centrepoint for the literateurs and it was here that he came in contact with some great literary figures including Laxmi Prasad Devkota, Bala Krishna Sama, Lekhnath Poudyal, Gopal Prasad Rimal, Bhim Nidhi Tiwari, Bhawani Bhiksu, Siddhi Charan Shrestha and many others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;As a&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;son and grandson of Subha, a high ranking official during the Rana regime, he never went to the farm house for cultivating land or rearing cattle though he often visited his vast agricultural land in Saptari.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But has an anecdote to tell us associated with his pen name. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;             &lt;/span&gt;“When I was arrested in 1940 in the wake of democratic movement, my first story Tyasko Bhalay (His rooster)appeared in Sardha with his pet name Gothale given by Bhawani Bhiksuto avoid further execution . I think the credit goes to Bikshu for giving me a pen name,” he grins. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;“Among the story writers, to name a few, I was inspired mostly by B P Koirala and Bhawani Bhiksu,” he says. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;           &lt;/span&gt;As a prominent story writer Gothale gave a new dimension to psychoanalytical study of characters. Gothale’s stories show mental conflict of his abnormal characters. The conflict between desire and morality in Ke gareki Shobha (What are you doing Shobha) the sadism of the principle character in Maile Sarita ko hatya Gare(I killed Sarita) and stories like Adhar, Bhaaro(Pot) and Bichari u are typical examples. In Bhaaro, he shows how a woman neglects the presence of a poor boy by bathing infront of him exposing her body but draping herself the moment she sees her brother-in-law. He raises the question of morality of Nepali women in the story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;Earlier he had also writeen on domestic and social subjects. In Tyasko Bhale(His Rooster), Mahapap(A great sin), Lakshimipuja and Nidra Aena(Could&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;not sleep) his child characters are interesting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;“Sex is also a social subject. I write whatever I feel as part of our society,” he explains. “I try to write about the existing social problems.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;“The writers were used to treat as anti-Rana and whoever tried to experiment new things could be termed as anti-Rana. So it was obvious for us to be anti-Rana.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;There was not&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;question of being our novels controversial because of low readership, he says.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;His penchant for writing did not limit him to story writing. Pallo Ghar KO Jhyal (The window of that house, 1959) is one of the naturalistic novels in Nepali. Its principal character Misri is tied in marriage which is physically unsatisfying for her. She keeps on watching a man who looks her through the window of the adjoining house and elopes with him ultimately. Gothale tries to explode the myth that Nepalese women remain firm and loyal towards their husband despite their husbands’ inability to sexually and emotionally satisfy her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;He was the first editor of Awaj daily which published in Falgun 7, 2007 BS, the day Nepal attained democracy. Later he also edited Sardha, a literary magazine run by his family.&lt;span style=""&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;“Nepali literature has not flourished as others. So whatever evaluation they did for my works, it seems to be good,” he says. But the readership has not soared up as much as it should be, he says. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;Chyateiko Parda (Torn curtain) and Bhus KO ago (Fire of Chaff) presents psychological dimensions. The first play by two men is about a girl who is wooed by two men. One man is married and rich and is attracted more by her physical charm; the other is impoverished by his addiction to wine and gambling but respects the girl’s freedom and loves her sincerely. The girl chooses the latter and this freedom of choice is the confirmation of the freedom of feminine individuality. The second play develops around a married woman, Urmila. Detested by parents-in-law of the husbands, she is not allowed to bring home and they force her husband to marry again. Urmila chooses to live independently and joins a college. Fed up with his illiterate second wife, her husband wants to come closer to Urmila and she also responds it positively. However, the sense of her independence prevails upon her and refuses to go with him. Love and marriage,&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;the status of women in a society is dominated by men, and the necessities of an overhaul change in the conservative ideas about these matters are the principal subjects of Gothale. His two plays Chayatieko Parda and Yug KO Sikar (Victim of the Era) have been dramatized and shown on Nepal Television.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;The man behind the new trend in Nepali story, Govinda Bahadur Malla is rarely honored by the people and the government. So far he has received only Tribhuvan Award in 1989. And, apart from this, he is grossly neglected by literary institutions. Though he says the people have recognized his contributions, he is not properly honored for what he did for Nepali literature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;“I did not write after 1964 due to lack of atmosphere or my weakness. Hardly one or two Nepali magazines used to publish from here,” he recalls. “For the publication of one thousand Sardha, we had to have paid only fifty or sixty rupees. It was very cheap then.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt;After two decades of active life in writing, he stopped writing unexpectedly and switched over to business. Now he is free and retired from business. Since the last few years, he seems to have gathered his old spirit and zeal for writing. Recently he has contributed a long play, a few stories and recollections in the magazines. He says whatever ideas are stored in his brain he would them in creative writing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:14pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14pt;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-8007948096642651064?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/8007948096642651064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=8007948096642651064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/8007948096642651064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/8007948096642651064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2010/12/gvinda-bahadur-gothale-stories-with-new.html' title='Govinda Bahadur Gothale: Stories with New Dimensions'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-4455081828697688476</id><published>2010-05-17T04:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T04:19:02.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Difficulty of Being Good</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; "&gt;Book Review appeared in The Week, The Republica on April 23, 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Difficulty of Being Good&lt;br /&gt;By Gurcharan Das&lt;br /&gt;Penguin Books&lt;br /&gt;434 Pages&lt;br /&gt;Rs. 1,118&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Sarad Pradhan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mahabharata, over the hundreds of years, has been interpreted and understood by different scholars in different ways. Compulsive discourse of Lord Krishna on dharma and action, his justification on holy war, the polyandry of Dhrupadi, indecisiveness and inaction of Bhisma over the insult of Dhrupadi after Yudhishthira loosing his wife in dice, treachery of warriors of both sides have made Mahabharata a compelling saga that never ceases to amuse the readers with its magical art of storytelling. But the message that it used to communicate earlier is now totally different albeit it is being told in same way, due to contextual change in human behavior. That is what Gurcharan Das, an erudite writer and social thinker presents Mahabharata in modern context. In his earlier books- Unbound India and Elephant Paradigm, Gurcharan Das appears to have expounded the frog leaped economic progress that India made after the end of license Raj that crippled its economy for years. His both books tell us about how economic liberation opened the flood gate of social transformation in the lives of millions of India who were the victims of Hindu Growth Rate that always staggered between 2 to 5%. To understand his latest book- The Difficulty of Being Good, we need to understand his humble beginning and meteoric rise as CEO of Proctor and Gamble India. A graduate of Harvard, Gurcharan Das, whose father belonged to a god fearing Middle class family, took early retirement to become a full time writer and studied philosophy and Sanskrit in different universities in the USA. Married to a Nepali woman, Gurcharan Das, in this book, deviates from the theme of his earlier books. The main theme of his latest book is his quest for Dharma and relevance of Mahabharata in the modern society and is a product of his sabbatical sojourn to the USA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Mahabharata is about our incomplete lives, about good people acting badly, about how difficult it is to be good in this world," writes Mr. Das in the prelude of the book. Drawing references from different books written over last two centuries in different languages, he compares the characters of Mahabharata with Anil Ambani and the likes to exemplify envy of Duryadhana. Sibling rivalry as it is known today in the corporate world is the core of discontent of Kauravas fuelled by Dhritarashtra's paternal love for his son-Duryadhana. Unlike other commentaries that have written on Mahabharata, his is a more subtle and balanced which tries to justify the action of Duryadhana, virtue of Karna and quandary of Dhrupadi. In meantime, he praises the uprightness of Vikarna, the younger brother of Duryadhana who defended Drupadi against all odds at the time when even Bhisma, the grandfather of Kaurav and Pandhav resigns to his fate saying that he cannot resolve Draupadi's dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gurcharan Das, as his wont, is good in drawing example from Greek epic Iliad which was written almost same period as Mahabharata by Homer to dramatize his writing. Just like Arjuna, the protagonist of Iliad, Achilles also fought against the injustice. "The Iliad is bloodthirsty, driven by anger and violence. The Mahabharata is just as gory, but it questions the violence," writes Gurcharan Das. In Mahabharata, he says, main characters question the morality of killing on ethical ground but in the Ilihad, they get on with it without remorse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Art of dharma , what he refers to his book, is the moral law that sustains society, the individual and the world. And, Mahabharata is entangled with Dharma that perplexes everyone including Bhisma; it's a dilemma that also makes Dhrupadi confused when her husband loses her to Kaurav. But the envy that Duryadhana nourishes against the success of Pandavas leads to war, questioning the relevance of Dharmayudha. In The Difficulty of Being Good, he examines the Mahabharata from historical prospective after reading most of the books, commentaries and treatises written on it. Though he is repetitive, refereeing same thing here and there, it's injustice to undermine his treasure of knowledge of both Eastern and Western philosophies. He delves into the genesis of Dharma, its complexity and its relevance in the modern society. Of all vices, he points out envy as most evil and dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Modern interpretation of Mahabharata by Gurcharan Das enlightens cyber-generation whose upbringing has uprooted the moral values that epic like Mahabharata so subtly disseminates. The way politicians are grooming their children as their political heir has not been changed ever since. Dhritarashtra and his unruly ambition is found everywhere in South Asian countries including Nepal. The Difficulty of Being Good is a good example of writing book based on old theme with new innovative ideas and experience. Missing point in this book is that he ignores the interpretation or commentaries on Mahabharata by Indian scholars and spiritual Gurus with western outlook like Sri Aurobindo, Swami Vivekananda while writing this book. Perhaps incorporation of thoughts and ideas of such renowned persons would have made this book more balanced and subtle that he tries to make it so. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-4455081828697688476?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/4455081828697688476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=4455081828697688476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/4455081828697688476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/4455081828697688476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2010/05/difficulty-of-being-good.html' title='The Difficulty of Being Good'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-4268700665553210925</id><published>2010-05-16T04:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T04:33:17.582-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The World is What it is</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;The World is What it is&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;The Authorized Biography of V.S. Naipaul&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;By Patrick French&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;Publisher: Picador&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;Price: Rs. 952&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;By Sarad Pradhan&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:justify"&gt;To understand V.S Naipaul is a mammoth task. More difficult is to understand his literary works that ranges from his Caribbean &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;experience to exploration of Islamic fundamentalism in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Indonesia&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Just reading his early works &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;like A House for &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Mr. Biswas&lt;/i&gt; –my all time favourite, provides a vista into his early life as a Caribbean boy of Indian origin - formative years of Naipaul who grew up among blacks and Indians. His trilogy on India- &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;India: A million mutinies now, India: An Area of Darkness, India: A wounded Civilization&lt;/i&gt; are the outcome of his repeated visit to India, the country that his fore-fathers left years ago to work as&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;sugarcane labours in Caribbean country. These three books are very critical about &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. He writes,” I wrote the whole of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;A Wounded civilization&lt;/i&gt; with an idea of the invasion in my mind, in a broad way, the way Indians talk about it as through it’s an act of God. I am enraged by the way Indians don’t wish to understand their history, I am enraged. I think unless you begin to understand your history, you can’t have a new writing.” But the book that brought him to international fame with Noble Award is &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;Beyond Belief&lt;/i&gt;, a follow up of his earlier book-&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;Among Believers&lt;/i&gt;- both based on his quest to unravel mystery of converted Muslims and their fanaticism from &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Iran&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Indonesia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Before his authorized biography came into light, &lt;span class="normal"&gt;Sir Vidia’s Shadow&lt;/span&gt;- survivor’s memoir of estranged disciple Paul Theroux dominated the world of Naipaul that Naipaul told to ignore and claimed to have not read it. Unlike his previous biography on his mentor &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;–V.S.Naipaul: An Introduction of his work&lt;/i&gt;, Theroux, the author of famous travelogue, &lt;span class="normal"&gt;The Great Railway Bazaar&lt;/span&gt;, shows his displeasure, differences and discontent with Naipaul in this book&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:justify"&gt;‘&lt;span class="normal"&gt;The World is What it is’&lt;/span&gt; is perhaps only authorized biography of V.S. Naipaul nee Vidiadhar Surajprasad Naipaul that allows&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;the &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;readers to peep into the life and works of one of the greatest writers of our generation. Authored by Patrick French&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;,&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;‘The World is What it is’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;is&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;a candid biography of a celebrated author who is known for his whimsical&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;unfriendly and snobbish behaviour. With the permission of Naipaul, Patrick French got access to more than 50,000 piece of papers that Naipaul sold to the University of Tulsa in Oklahoma and; together with numerous interviews with Naipaul and his close associates, French’s Herculean task ended in 2008 in a form of a beautiful book whose title is drawn from first line of Naipaul’s famous book ‘&lt;span class="normal"&gt;A bend in River’&lt;/span&gt; based on Central Africa. It is a tough job for a British author to trace down the historical and social background of a complex writer like Naipaul who was born in Hindu family, brought up among Blacks in Trinidad, grew up as a writer in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;England&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, writing novels on Africa and Latin American milieu, his essays on &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and Muslims. Though many of us have heard of his mistress Margaret-&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;inspiration for &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;some of his works and his flings with other women, Patrick says,” Vadia’s physical attraction to Pat(his wife) had never been certain, and after they married it declined further. He felt too embarrassed to talk with her about this situation. In the summer of 1958, turning imagination into reality, he started to have sex with prostitutes.” &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Patrick is very particular in detailing the every aspect related to the life of Naipaul like update information of his siblings, his father’s and mother’s relatives even his contemporary &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Caribbean&lt;/st1:place&gt; writers. He quoted Vinod Mehta, editor of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;Outlook&lt;/i&gt; to sketch what kind of person is Naipaul: I think overall he is one of the most complex human beings I’ve met: I have never met anyone as insightful, or as brilliant. But he is certainly not an easy person to know…….. He was not a person who was going to tell you a great deal about himself. His books will tell you about himself, but he won’t tell you.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:justify"&gt;In this book, Patrick explores the personal life of Naipaul, his demure and submissive British wife Pat, his family and indifferent attitude to his equally talented brother Shiva Naipaul- author of several books like &lt;span class="normal"&gt;North of South, Black and White&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Untimely death of Shiva Naipaul in 1985 at the age of forty made Vidia grief with a feeling of his unfulfilling fraternal responsibility. Almost two and a half decade ago I read &lt;span class="normal"&gt;A House of Mr. Biswas&lt;/span&gt;- the book that introduced me to writings of Naipaul subsequently. Written on the narrative style of R.K. Narayan, &lt;span class="normal"&gt;A House of Mr. Biswas&lt;/span&gt; is a book which brought together all his experience and the uniqueness of his perspective, a late twentieth-century global narrative that could have been written by no one else but Naipaul. And, after reading &lt;span class="normal"&gt;The World is What it is,&lt;/span&gt; I have found similar fictional characters in real life.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Writing on Naipaul, even for a versatile writer, is difficult, for a reason that Naipaul appears to be ubiquitous in his writings. This book gives more insight to those readers who are already familiar with the writings of V.S. Naipaul. His infidelity, aloofness from friends and family, superiority complex in writing always revolve around his personality. Patrick finds Naipaul quite emotional and lonely when his first wife Pat dies. “ Vidia did not know what to do. Having spent a lifetime shunning friends, he had no network to support. His wife was dead, at the age of sixty-three,” writes Patrick. The book ends with the death of his first wife and his marriage with second wife Nadira- a Pakistani aspirant journalist and writer. Many a time the issue of his ancestral linkage to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; discussed within &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, the book doesn’t give any hint to prove it true.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:justify"&gt;‘&lt;span class="normal"&gt;The World is What it is’ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal; mso-bidi-font-style:italic"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italic"&gt;a window to the world of Naipaul- a big world that transcends many lives and works of common writers. Perhaps, &lt;/span&gt;The World is What it is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italic"&gt;gives more than what we generally expect to know about a writer. But to understand Naipaul, as Vinod Mehta says we have to read his books –the only way to fathom his complexity, his creativity, his megalomania.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-4268700665553210925?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/4268700665553210925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=4268700665553210925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/4268700665553210925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/4268700665553210925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2010/05/world-is-what-it-is.html' title='The World is What it is'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-3080980884801161628</id><published>2010-04-19T04:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T04:12:11.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NEPAL: Women’s hensureness  Posted by barunroy on April 2, 2010  00Rate This FROM MYREPUBLICA.COM  BY SAGUNA SHAH   Woman must not accept; she must ch</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(42, 42, 42); "&gt;&lt;h2 style="font-size: 1.6em; color: rgb(96, 96, 96); "&gt;&lt;a href="http://beacononline.wordpress.com/2010/04/02/nepal-womens-hensureness/" rel="bookmark" title="Permanent link to NEPAL: Women’s hensureness" style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(78, 78, 78); "&gt;NEPAL: Women’s hensureness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;p class="date" style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: -10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-color: rgb(176, 176, 176); "&gt;Posted  on April 2, 2010&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="entrytext" style="overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-top: 0px; "&gt;&lt;div class="snap_preview"&gt;&lt;div class="pd-rating" id="pd_rating_holder_890611_post_43477" style="display: inline-block; "&gt;&lt;div id="PDRTJS_890611_post_43477_nero_1" style="cursor: pointer; width: 24px; height: 24px; background-image: url(http://i.polldaddy.com/ratings/images/nero-hand-lrg.png); background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="PDRTJS_890611_post_43477_msg_1" style="text-align: center; float: left; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 4px; "&gt;0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="PDRTJS_890611_post_43477_nero_2" style="cursor: pointer; width: 24px; height: 24px; background-image: url(http://i.polldaddy.com/ratings/images/nero-hand-lrg.png); background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; background-position: 100% 100%; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="PDRTJS_890611_post_43477_msg_2" style="text-align: center; float: left; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 4px; "&gt;0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="PDRTJS_890611_post_43477_msg" style="float: left; padding-left: 5px; text-align: left; "&gt;Rate This&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; clear: both; "&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FROM MYREPUBLICA.COM&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BY SAGUNA SHAH &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; "&gt;Woman must not accept; she must challenge.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; "&gt;She must not be awed by that which has been built up around her;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;She must revere that woman in her, which struggles for expression.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; "&gt;– Margaret Sanger &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;img class="aligncenter" src="http://www.myrepublica.com/news_images/3710.jpg" alt="" width="485" height="597" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-top-width: 1px; border-right-width: 1px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-right-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid; border-left-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(176, 176, 176); border-right-color: rgb(176, 176, 176); border-bottom-color: rgb(176, 176, 176); border-left-color: rgb(176, 176, 176); margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; " /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;Beneath the hensureness of the woman, behind the dominant, demure, timid, submissive nature lies an undeterred spirit with immense capabilities; someone dauntless and strong. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;Like various other women celebrating the 100th International Woman’s Day around the world, my participation in two different spaces – Dilli Bazaar Kanya Multiple Campus and Alliance Française in Kathmandu – has been a memorable experience. It was a great opportunity for a woman like me to observe the Nepali women more closely and subtly. It has evoked in me the feeling of immense pride in being the so called ‘second’ sex despite having been born and brought up in a patriarchal society that always advocates – Men do no wrong. Having seen these women from different walks of life confident and upright has further kept intact my belief that we women have the patience and the power to create a positive change in the society. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;But that was not all I had witnessed there. After hearing those present, my inner self automatically categorizes them into two halves. The first half reserved for the Members of the Constituent Assembly, the policymakers, and lawmakers who are supposed to bring social and economic revolution through their tirades in fighting for gender bias, inequality, about women’s empowerment, their reservations, and their upliftment in the media. And everybody knows how much these harangues translate into action.  &lt;span id="more-43477"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;The second half, to the women of deliverance – ‘Women of Substance’ – in a true sense like Maiju Gurung, her daughter Lilu Gurung, Balika Chaudhary, Jeena Lingden, Subina Shrestha, and Poonam Pathak, a handful of them who have come to the fore, to share their experiences. Their experiences teach us to rise against all the odds and never to lose hope in our adverse situations, to be strong and independent, and to become aware. It was quite an emotional moment for everyone as Lilu Gurung, welled up with tears, remembered her father threatening her mother Maiju Gurung, fifth amongst the 10 wives her father had brought in, to be thrown into the river because of her perennial illness. As a child, Lilu got startled to see all her “mothers” line up in a queue to drink water after having washed her polygamous father’s feet. Having got married at an early age, Lilu had the extra responsibility of looking after her mother and supporting her. But this did not make Lilu lose her faith in her capability. She mortgaged the gold given to her during her wedding and established a grocery store with the money and began her journey. Her store sold everything, from things as tiny as needles, medicines to liquor. It was equally enriching to see Maiju, someone who is uneducated, express herself through her actions. Who says one who isn’t educated lacks wisdom?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;The story of Balika Chaudhary is not less motivating. She talked about the stigma of being born a girl child in a Chaudhary family where going to school was a punishment. In retrospect, she remembers the first time when she confronted a mass. All she could utter was “Namaste, ma kehipani bolna jandina” (I don’t know how to speak). To make things better for herself, she then trained herself to speak and began sharing her plight, her experiences by organizing plays. During the insurgency, she was arrested, being assumed as a Maoist for which the police inflicted mental and physical torture on her. After signing the peace agreement in 2006, Balika could travel throughout the remote parts of the country, collecting factual data of the pathetic conditions of Nepali women. She now works for the INGO Search for Common Ground. It has welcomed girls who once took up guns. Balika, who has seen women walking three to four days from Bajura to Achcham for food, thinks for those women who worry all the time about feeding their children; sending them to school will never be a priority. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;Jeena Lingden, pilot, speaking for the first time in public, seemed a little nervous. Born in Hong Kong to a British Gurkha Sergeant, Jeena, along with the family, had to move back to Phidim after his retirement. Coming back to village was a kind of anticlimax for her. She went to Dhule School, a small public school in the village. Luckily for them, after some years, her father got a job at the Brunei Palace, making their economical condition a little more stable. Initially, she wasn’t allowed to go to the same school that her brother attended; but finally, she convinced her parents. She pestered her father for pursuing her dream of flying high. Today, she flies for Yeti Airlines, and is immensely satisfied the way her life has shaped up. However, people still have a mindset that pilots are only men. She remembers when Yeti Airlines celebrated the Women’s Day by deciding to fly to Bharatpur, a twenty-minute destination, with an all-women crew, passengers had nervous expressions. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;Subina Shrestha makes films for Al Jazeera and has won the Rory Peck Awards in 2008. A very determined lady, she believes that women have easy access to everything, not because people think they are capable but because they are ‘underestimated.’ Subina is not angry at the whole world, but is interested in writing about the women of the Third World countries who are not strong enough to rebel against the patriarchal social construct. In the field of journalism, in order to be at par with men, she believes a woman has to go beyond. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;“You can’t do journalism if you want to be home by six in the evening, for that you have to travel wide and work hard,” says Subina, who remembers her undercover reporting for the Bahamas Cyclone in 2008. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;“I’ve never seen so many dead bodies and have never smelt something as that foul,” is what she reminisces on that tragic account of more than thousands of death. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;For 31-year-old Poonam Pathak of Butwal, the world came crashing down with the death of her husband in Kuwait, just three years after their marriage. She was only 22 with a three-week-old child. Living with the stigma of being a widow, being a burden to both families, and hearing things like her child being a ‘bau tokuwa’ (biting the father), were too much to handle. However, she didn’t lose hope. Today, she works in WHR as the Coordinator of the Food Processing for the Single Women Entrepreneurs Group, and delivers about 150 meal boxes a day in Kathmandu and Lalitpur. Her child is eight now and goes to a boarding school in Kathmandu. She feels one should never lose hope even in the worst of situations. She also has traveled to 54 districts as a social mobilizer spreading awareness that widowhood is not a curse. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;Listening to the story of the survivors, I pondered over the adversities of the women. We women often tend to blame the patriarchal construct for our miseries. But aren’t we all responsible for them? Until and unless a woman realizes this from within herself, the condition of her life will never change. It is she who creates boundaries for the daughters, sisters and daughter-in-laws. Thus, change has to come from within a woman herself. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;The various causes that hinder their upliftment are lack of education, lack of awareness, lack of campaigning, etc. However, education cannot be the sole factor that brings change in people’s behavior although its importance cannot be ruled out easily. Why would educated women behave roughly to their brethrens? Be it women of the villages or the cities, both suffer equally. The judicial system for women’s rights, their empowerment, and the property rights exist only in papers. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;For a woman to fight a divorce case against domestic abuse and getting alimony, it takes years if the parties don’t agree on common legal grounds. It is utterly humiliating for her to speak in public regarding her private life time and again. By the time the verdict comes, she is disillusioned and in despair. Sometime back, the budget announced Rs 50,000 to a man who marries a widow and Rs. 100,000 to one who marries a woman from a Dalit community. This indicates that people still think of women as commodities whose price is determined by their disabilities. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: justify; "&gt;Coming back to the point where I began writing, perhaps D.H. Lawrence would call these women cocksure as they are playing the so called masculine role in the society. I beg to deconstruct his term of cocksure women. A woman does not need to be cocksure to revolt, to fight for her rights; she can be empowered by being ‘hensure’ itself. The only thing she needs is to be sure of herself and of her actions.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-3080980884801161628?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/3080980884801161628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=3080980884801161628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3080980884801161628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3080980884801161628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2010/04/nepal-womens-hensureness-posted-by.html' title='NEPAL: Women’s hensureness  Posted by barunroy on April 2, 2010  00Rate This FROM MYREPUBLICA.COM  BY SAGUNA SHAH   Woman must not accept; she must ch'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-7672452354814415643</id><published>2010-04-15T03:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T03:06:05.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Khampas &amp; CIA against Mao &amp; Zhou</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(70, 70, 70); line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="1" cellpadding="1"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; "&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="1" cellpadding="1"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td height="5" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="bodynewsheading" style="color: rgb(31, 82, 123); font-weight: bold; font-size: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Appeared in The Week of The Republica on April 9, 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Khampas &amp;amp; CIA against Mao &amp;amp; Zhou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;SARAD PRADHAN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Like many kids growing up in the 1970s and early 80s, Tibet, for me, was a fabled arcane land occupied by China. In my imagination, Tibet was limited to Lhasa, Buddhism, and the Potala Palace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years ago, while flying over the Tibetan Plateau on my way to Beijing, I was intrigued to see vast stretches without any sign of settlement. I wondered how Tibetans in the early 50s were able to find their way around while fighting against the well-equipped People’s Liberation Army.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a kid, I had heard about the Khampa resistance backed by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), but there was very little information available on the low-profiled guerrilla war. I had to be content with snippets of news available at times, until I finally came upon Mikel Dunham’s book “Buddha’s Warriors.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buddha’s Warriors is a provocative book that tells you about the history, culture and social fabrics of Tibet, Tibetan rule on Tibet, and its relations with China before Mao Zedong invaded it. My initial apprehension to start this book withered as I started reading it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img align="right" width="245" src="http://www.myrepublica.com/news_images/3797.jpg" alt="" /&gt;Mikel narrates the story of Tibet in the 40s and 50s, emphasizing the lack of cohesion among the Tibetans themselves, the timidity of high officials, the lackadaisical attitude of residents of Lhasa and the lack of communication. These were a few reasons, among many, that contributed to the failure of the Tibetan resistance movement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The author highlights the role of the Dalai Lama without prejudices. Like many Tibetans, HH Dalai Lama, too, was kept in the dark about the imminent problems that Tibet was going to face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the most important issues that “Buddha’s Warriors” raises is the recruitment of Khampas by the CIA to push the agitation further, without the knowledge of India to foster an anti-Communist insurgency. Mikel scathingly attacks India’s first prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru for his indifferent attitude towards the Tibetans, which further made it difficult to internationalize the Chinese aggression against Tibet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on interviews with several survivors of the Tibetan resistance movement and CIA officials involved in this secret operation over the period of seven years, the book is a vivid account of horrors, atrocities and barbarism that Tibetans were (and still are) forced to endure while resisting the advances made by the Chinese Army. Change in guard in the US was a big blow to the Khampa warriors, and it forced the CIA to abandon its operations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mikel appears to be emotionally charged in the book and strongly condemns the Chinese. Nonetheless, the writer also criticizes the Lhasans for their nonchalant attitude to problems faced by other Tibetan areas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The convergence of myth and reality in the present-day Tibet is the indication of what lies inside the Pandora’s Box for Tibet and Tibetans in the future. With the growing influence of China in global politics, many countries may find the Tibetan issue trivial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book fails to analyze the future of the Tibetan movement that has protracted despite the disbanding of the Khampa Resistance movement. Even so, the occasional angry outbursts, which come from Tibetans, clearly echo the sentiments of Tibetans for their homeland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last paragraph of the book surmises what Tibet is for the posterity: Perhaps Maitreya, the future Buddha, will locate Tibet in people’s hearts rather than on a page in an atlas – thus bringing Tibet’s mysteries full circle to a time, before 1950, when it was just a blank space on a classroom globe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Letter to Editor on this review&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mikel Dunham&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;a name="news_comment1" id="news_comment1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks for the nice review. It´s the first time "Buddha´s Warriors" has been reviewed in Nepal, as far as I know. Nice to have it come up in Republica, my preferred source for news in Nepal.&lt;a href="http://theweek.myrepublica.com/details.php?action=news_details&amp;amp;news_id=17261&amp;amp;show_comments=true" style="color: rgb(31, 82, 123); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="10" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sarad pradhan&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;a name="news_comment2" id="news_comment2"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks Tirtha Ram Acharya for going through my review and pointing out my mistake. I have nothing to say about what you have said because that is my view that I have expressed reading that view. You have all right to differ and I don´t need to defend my writing. I have given all details that you asked for like cost in the printed version. Unfortunately, it doesnot appear in the online version. Thanks once again for comment.&lt;a href="http://theweek.myrepublica.com/details.php?action=news_details&amp;amp;news_id=17261&amp;amp;show_comments=true" style="color: rgb(31, 82, 123); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="10" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tirtha Ram Acharya&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;a name="news_comment3" id="news_comment3"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The review is biased. Its a given that a reviewer needs to know the subject matter first hand and not get swayed by emotions. If the reviewer had done his homework first before sitting down to write this, then the review had been much nicer. A reviewer is supposed to point out whatever factual errors, if there are any, and other inaccuracies. Its not a reviewer´s job to praise the book he/she is reviewing.Let the readers judge the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let´s get back to the issue. You wrote: "Buddha’s Warriors is a provocative book that tells you about the history, culture and social fabrics of Tibet, Tibetan rule on Tibet, and its relations with China before Mao Zedong invaded it." Scholars are divided even in the west on the word "invasion". Was it invasion or China trying to consolidate its borders? Can a country invade its own territories? Mikel is right, the Dalai Lama didn´t do anything to improve the lives of Tibetans and reform the feudal structure of Tibet. I don´t know whether Mikel mentions this in his book or not, but the Tibetans were not allowed to wear glasses, no matter how bad their eyesight in Tibet. What´s more, the Dalai Lama´s feaces were used as medicines! (Seven Years in Tibet, Henerich Harrer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JN Nehru was an internationalist and sure hje didn´t internationalize the issue, becuase India itself was thinkiong of invading Nepal and other Himalayan countries. It was Nehru´s international exposure and his correct reading of the world events foiled Sardar Ballav Bhai Patel´s plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You write: "the book is a vivid account of horrors, atrocities and barbarism that Tibetans were (and still are) forced to endure while resisting the advances made by the Chinese Army. Change in guard in the US was a big blow to the Khampa warriors, and it forced the CIA to abandon its operations." But what about the Tibetans warriors´ killing the Chinese troops and civilians? The US pulling the plugs on Khampas has much to do with Nixon´s sensible policy to end the Vietnam war. The Chinese were more than happy to keep the US instilled puppet regime in Vietnam and pave the way for a graceful exit of the Americans, and the Americans had realized the futility of supporting the Khampas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wrote: Even so, the occasional angry outbursts, which come from Tibetans, clearly echo the sentiments of Tibetans for their homeland... and in the beginning of your piece you wrote: A few years ago, while flying over the Tibetan Plateau on my way to Beijing, I was intrigued to see vast stretches without any sign of settlement. Mybe its about time you drove through Tibet and ask the Tibetans what they want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you´ll find this interesting, The Dalai Lama has never asked for Tibetan independence. The whole independent issue is raised to discredit the Chinese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said this, as someone interested in learning the both sides, I will definately buy Mikel´s book, It sure seems worth reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Another tip: Its a revier´s job to tell how many pages are there in the book, when was it published, where its available and for a cash strapped reader like me, its cost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://theweek.myrepublica.com/details.php?action=news_details&amp;amp;news_id=17261&amp;amp;show_comments=true" style="color: rgb(31, 82, 123); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="10" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ashish&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;a name="news_comment4" id="news_comment4"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dear Mr Pradhan,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might be a good writer but I suggest you don´t write book reviews anymore. If you would like to write an article on the topic then perhaps you should take that approach. Also, you forgot to mention how this book is relevant to Nepal, and the role we had in finally defeating the Khampas movement. Please try and be an unbiased reviewer. And if you do not listen to criticism of your writing, unless you are very very talented (which i doubt), your career as a journalist is sure to fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://theweek.myrepublica.com/details.php?action=news_details&amp;amp;news_id=17261&amp;amp;show_comments=true" style="color: rgb(31, 82, 123); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="10" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tirtha Ram Acharya&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;a name="news_comment5" id="news_comment5"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dear Mr Pradhan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for your response to my review of your review. There are still some problems though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course as a reviewer you are free to speak your mind, but that has to be withing a set parameter. You cannot just make it too personal so much so that your readers find it hard to distinguish what is the book about, how it approaches the issue and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its one thing to be passionate aboout something, but as a reviewer your job is to make sure that your biases and passions do not influence your writing that many people are going to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck and keep writing!&lt;a href="http://theweek.myrepublica.com/details.php?action=news_details&amp;amp;news_id=17261&amp;amp;show_comments=true" style="color: rgb(31, 82, 123); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="10" style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: rgb(70, 70, 70); font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sarad pradhan&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;a name="news_comment6" id="news_comment6"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks Ashish Ji for discouragement and Tirtha Ji for encouragement to write more reviews. I will definitely take your suggestions positively. It´s very difficult to write everything in 700 word about a book of 400 pages. Whoever writes, there is bound to be some lapses. Please read the book first and let me know whether I justify the book in 700 words. Tirtha Ji, I am trying to imbibe the international norms of writing review in my writing. I am sure it´s hard to digest this kind of writing, devoid from stereotype of review. Thanks Ashish ji for caring for my career. Unfortunately, I am not a journalist at the moment, I left newspaper almost 1 decade ago and during my stint as a journalist, I wrote almost 4 dozens of book reviews that you still can see the quotation of my review in the jacket of some of the books available in the market.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-7672452354814415643?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/7672452354814415643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=7672452354814415643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/7672452354814415643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/7672452354814415643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2010/04/khampas-cia-against-mao-zhou.html' title='Khampas &amp; CIA against Mao &amp; Zhou'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-8567437317046788474</id><published>2010-01-06T20:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T20:29:56.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Precursor to NTY 2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Appeared in The Week, The Republica on January 1, 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:6;"&gt;Precursor to NTY 2011 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:6;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;SARAD PRADHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Tourism is an unpredictable  but resilient industry. A small disturbance, either national or international,  is enough to drive entire past efforts to ground zero. As Nepal is celebrating  Nepal Tourism Year (NTY) in 2011, all efforts and resources will now be  synthesized to conclude it successfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To put it succinctly, Nepal’s  tourism industry will face real challenges in 2010, rather than in 2011, because  the success of this event depends on the homework that the tourism sector does  in 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a prelude to 2011, a mega event is being organized on  February 5, 2010 as part of its launch in Kathmandu by Nepal Tourism Year  secretariat inviting people from of all walks of life to express their  solidarity to convert NTY into a national campaign. The major challenges that  Nepali tourism industry will face in 2010, apart from political uncertainty and  regular Nepal bandas and chakkajam, are accessibility, accommodation and  infrastructure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brighter side is that there are 23 airlines flying to  Nepal. But the grimmer side is more appalling because they carry fewer tourists,  and more Nepalis. In 1999, tourist arrivals by air were 421,243 but there were  hardly 12 international airlines flying to Nepal. In contrast, there were 21  airlines in 2008, and the tourists they carried were 374,661. Similarly, Nepal  Airlines brought 123,458 tourists in 1999 but it reduced to 21,000 in  2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="7373c9.jpg" src="file:///C:/Eudora_media/Embedded/7373c91.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hope that we have  had on Nepal Airlines for the revival of tourism arrivals as before with new  planes has been crashed due to the tug of war between Nepal Airlines and the  government. So the real need is to have more airlines that carry tourists to  Nepal rather than the ones that occupy the slots in the crowded and crammed  Tribhuvan International Airport. If the government allows ATR aircraft to fly  abroad, there are high chances, for instance, to have more tourists from India  directly to Pokhara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many hotels have been closed over the years and  there is no sign of building new hotels in 2010. So there could be more problems  of accommodation in 2010, especially during the high seasons, if tourist  arrivals increase substantially. However, if the travel industry makes use of  the new apartments that have been mushrooming in the Kathmandu Valley for  accommodation, it may mitigate the shortage of rooms to some extent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In  2010, it is also equally important to give a facelift to Tribhuvan International  Airport in general, including the airport taxi, immigration, and restrooms.  Before we bring tourists, we have to keep our house in order to welcome  them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is also a need to improve the snail-pace traffic in the  Valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To put it in a nutshell, Nepal will have a great opportunity in  the name of NTY to spruce up the beauty of its cities and villages in course of  celebrating 2010 with more events and programs than before. At least, these  activities will help eclipse the darker side of the country amongst the  potential visitors to Nepal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-8567437317046788474?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/8567437317046788474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=8567437317046788474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/8567437317046788474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/8567437317046788474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2010/01/precursor-to-nty-2011.html' title='Precursor to NTY 2011'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-7713365641577854041</id><published>2009-02-26T01:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T01:09:30.231-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering Parijat</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:24.0pt;font-family:Preeti"&gt;;Demgfsf] t/]nLdf kfl/hft lblb&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align:right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Preeti"&gt;–z/b k|wfg&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;s]lx lbg cl3 dfq d]/f] em08} b'O{ bzssf] kqsfl/tf hLjgdf d}n] ;fIffTsf/ u/L hLjgL n]v]sf ;flxTosf/x?sf] gfdfjnL ;f]rL/x]sf] lyPF . w]/} ;flxTosf/x? t lbj+ut eO;Sg' ePsfn] ca sf] rfFlx afFrL/x]sf xf]nfg\ eg]/ 3f]lTn/x]sf] lyPF . /d]; ljsn ca /x]gg\ eg]/ km];a'sdf Ps kqsf/ alxgLn] n]v]sf] k9] kl5 d]/f] gfdfjnLdf Ps gfd ylkof] eg]/ dgdf lr;f] k:of] . laut s]lx dlxgf cl3 dfq slj OZj/ jNnesf] lgwgn] lbj+ut x'g]x?sf] gfdfjln nlDaPsf] dxz'; u/]sf] lyPF . ca t w]/} ;flxTosf/x?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;s]jn ;+emgfsf] t/]nLdf dfq afFls /x]] . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;s]bf/dfg Aolyt, s]zj/fh lk8fFnL, ljgf]bk|;fb lwtfn, hgsnfn zdf{, 8f= O{Zj/ a/fn, ljho dNn ;a} uP of] ;+;f/nfO{ 5f]8]/ . t/ dnfO{ n]Vg k|]/0ff lbg] kfl/hft lblbsf] ;+emgf d]/f] dfg;k6df ulx/f] 5fk a;]sf] 5 . sl/a @^ jif{ cl3 æl;DdfÆ gf6ssf] k|bzgL{sf] l;nl;nfdf bflh{lnË cfpg'xF'bf e]6]sf] kfl/hft lblb, ;fob Ps ;flxTosf/ eGbf al9 d]/f] nflu cleefjs x'g'x'GYof] . kfl/hft lblbnfO{ lnPsf] cGt/jftf{ g} d]/f] k|yd ;flxlTos ofqfsf] yfngL lyof], clkt' Tof] ofqf nfdf] ;do;Dd nlDag ;s]g ljleGg sf/0fjz . ;Demgf cem} klg cfnf] 5 . lblbn] x:tfIf/ u/]/ lbPsf] lzl/ifsf] km'nsf] c+u|]hL cg'jfb &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:15.0pt"&gt;(Blue Mimosa)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt; sf lstfa kfpFbf v';Ln] w]/} ;fyLx?nfO{ b]vfPsf] . x'gt d]/f] hLjgsf] klxnf] hflu/ g} kfl/hft lblbsf] l;kmfl/;df ePsf] xf] t/ klg hflu/n] lblb;Fusf] ;fldKotf kSs} NofPsf] xf]Og . d}n] n]v]sf kfl/hft lblbsf] k|;Fux? s'g} gf}nf] xf]Ogg\ / x'g klg ;Sb}gg\ t/ sltko s'/fx? ;fob ;do ;fk]If x'G5 eg]/ d}n] n]Vg k|of; u/]sf] x'F . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;k|foM xKtfdf Ps lbg ukm ug{sf nflu hfg] afgL al;;s]sfn] xf]nf kfl/hft lblbsf] 3/ jf :s'n egf}+ d]/f] lglDt ;Fw} v'Nnf lyP . lblb;Fu a;]/ 306f}+ ;flxlTos ukm ug'{ d]/f] lglDt lbgrof{ lyof] . c?n] n]Vg cfF6 ug{ g;s]sf s'/f s'g} 8/ / qf; ljgf n]Vg ;Sg' lblbsf] v'aL lyof] . k|;+u Pp6f To:t} 5 . :j= n}gl;+x afËb]nn] Pp6f /l;ofnL syfnfO{ cfwf/ agfP/ n]v]sf] d'n's aflx/ pkGof;sf af/]df n]Vg s;}n] cfF6 u/]gg\ lsgls afËb]n To;a]nf g]kfn k|1f k|lti7fgsf s'nklt lyP . Tof] /l;ofnL lstfa d;Fu ePsfn] d}n] w]/}nfO{ To; ljifodf n]Vg cfu|x u/+] t/ sf]xL dfg]gg\ . t/ kfl/hft lblbn] d]/f] k|;Ë hf]8\b} Tof] rf]/L ;flxTodfly n]v] Pp6f klqsfdf t/ kl5 To; ljifonfO{ cl3 ;f/]/ rrf{sf] ljifo agfpg s;}n] rfx]gg\ .&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;cfˆgf] n]Vg] ljifo a:t'df cWoog u/]/ dfq n]Vg k5{ eGg] dfGotf lyof] kfl/hft lblbsf] . kl/eflift cfFvfx? n]Vbfsf] k|;Ë d clxn] klg e'lNbg . of] pkGof; n]Vg] qmddf lblbn] k|foM h;f] o;sf] ljifoa:t' dfly rrf{ ug'{x'GYof] . w]/} ufx&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Kanchan"&gt;«&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Preeti"&gt;f] k|;Ë jf ljifoj:t' cfPdf To; ljifosf] la1x?;Fu ;Nnfx lng] u/]sf s'/fx? ug'{x'GYof] . &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;kfl/hft lblbsf] xlSs :jefjsf] sf/0fn] w]/} dflg;x? lblb;Fu n]v dfUg jf cGt/jftf{ lng cfF6 ul/ xfNb}g lyP . ldng;f/ t lyOg\ lblb t/ rfs8L / rfkn';Laf6 w]/} k/ . g/]Gb|/fh k|;fO{ bfO{nfO{ Pp6f k':tssf] lglDt kfl/hft lblbsf] cGt/jftf{ rflxPsf] lyof] . t/ lblbn] pxfF;Fu ;f]em} cGt/jftf{ glbg] eg] kl5 d dfkm{t sl/a ! 306fsf] cGt/jftf{ lbg'eof] . ;fob Tof] l/s8{ ePsf] rSsf k|;fO{ bfO{;Fu clxn] klg ;'/lIft xf]nf . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;dnfO{ cem klg ;+emgf 5 Tof] sf]7fsf] hxfF lblb;Fu d}n] w]/} If0f latfPF ;flxlTos ukm u/]/ . cgfjZos dfG5]x? cfPsf] dg gk/fpg] kfl/hft lblb l;ldt dfG5]x?;Fu dfq ukm ug{ dg k/fpg'x'GYof] . ljZj ;flxTosf] /fd|f] cWoog ug'{x'g] lblb pxfF s} l;kmfl/;df d}n] lrlgofF n]vs n' ;'gsf] syf, km|fG;]nL ;flxTosf/ hfF kn ;fqsf] lstfa k9\g] cj;/ kfPF . /l;ofnL n]vsx?sf] pkGof; / syf k9\g ?rfpg] kfl/hft lblb k|ultjfbL ;flxTosf] pkb]zfTds cfVofg eGbf dfly p7]/ jt{dfg ;dfhsf] lrq0f u/]sf] kfpF5f}+ lblbsf syfx? / pkGof;df . &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;kfl/hft lblbn] g} ;'emfj lbPsf] cfwf/df d}n] lk6/ h] sfy{ssf] æk|To]s 7fpF k|To]s dfG5] Æ pkGof; bf]xf]¥ofO{ k9]+ . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;d}n] lnPsf] Pp6f cGt/jftf{df lblbnfO{ s'g s'g ljZj:t/Lo ;flxTosf/x?;Fu k|efljt x'g'x'G5 eg]/ ;f]w]sf] k|Zgdf lblb eGg'x'GYof] æPp6f Pp6f s[ltx?nfO{ lnP/ d ljZj:t/Lo w]/} ;flxTosf/x?;Fu k|efljt 5'Ù h:t} PldnL a|f]Gb], leS6/ Xo'uf], df]/fleof, Pldn hf]nf, bf]:tfa:sL, uf]sL{, cf]a|f]A:sL, yfªdL, n';'g, cfOg /fO8, Pn]S; x]nL, k|]drGb, d'n's/fh cfgGb, lje"lt e"if0f jGwf]kfWofo cflb . g]kfnL ;flxTodf eg] To:tf] n]vs pEofO;s]sf] 5}g Æ . ;f]xL cGt/jftf{df kfl/hft lblbnfO{ d's'6 klqsfdf k|sflzt sljtf æhLjg Ps j]jfl/; d[To'sf] d'r'NsfÆ df AoQm ul/Psf] Ps x/km …Pp6f nf;;Dd gc6fpg] Ps rf]S6f l9:sf]sf] lglDt dnfO{ dg'{ 5}g df6f]sf] lglDt… af/]df ;f]lwPsf]df lblb eGg'x'GYof] æof] sljtf d}n] hLjgsf] clt lj;+ut kIf ef]lu/x]sf] a]nf / lj;+ut dgl:yltsf] rk]6fdf k/]/ n]v]sL x'F . cfˆgf] laut e|dk"0f{ ljrf/x?sf] lglDt d tkfFO{x? ;dIf cfTdfnf]rgf u5'{ Æ . cfˆgf] sljtf k|lt o:tf] cfTdfnf]rgf ug]{ ;fob sd} sljx? xf]nfg\ g]kfnL ;flxTodf . of] cGt/jftf{ bflh{lnËaf6 k|sflzt ælxdfnr'nLÆ df @)#( df 5flkPsf] lyof] . kfl/hft lblb s} cg'dltaf6 d}n] @)$( df ;Dkfbg u/]sf] æcf:yfÆ ;flxlTos klqsfdf k"gM k|sflzt u/]sf] lyPF . Tolx klqsfdf kfl/hft lblbsf] Pp6f d'Qms 5flkPsf] lyof] . d'Qms eP klg To; leq b]zdf ljBdfg l:yltnfO{ /fd|f] lrq0f ul/Psf] lyof] . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;æ j;Gt ;w}+ em}+ cfPs} xf] &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;;dodf /+uL–r+uL km'nx? km'n] s} 5g\ &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;xfFufx?df dfq km'n ;hfpg] xftx? jfFlwP5g\ &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;dfq b[Zo x]g]{ cfFvfx? gh/aGb eP5g\ . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;un}rf a'g]s} 5g\ &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;emf/ kft / dl;gf km'nx?n] r/fx? lr/lj/fP s} 5g\&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;laxfgLsf] ;+s]t lbP/ s]jn 6]Sg] sf]dn kfOnfx? kfgL sf]/ln km'ln/x]5g\ Æ . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;hg cfGbf]ng efu Psdf kfl/hft lblbn] v]n]sf e"ldsf w]/} h;f]sf] dgdf cem} klg cfnf] ;+emgfsf] ;dodf afFsL g} 5 . ;f+;fl/s cfjZostf x'Fbfx'Fb} klg lblbn] b]vfPsf] ;fx;sf] w]/}n] sb/ u/] t/ ;DalGwt lgsfoaf6 lblbk|lt s'g} ;b\efjgf b]vfOPg . lblbn] @)$^ ;fn e/ e"ldut ?kdf rnfPsf] klqsf OGb|]0fL ;flxTosf s]lx c+sx? d;Fu clxn] klg ;'/lIft 5 . cu|:yfgdf n]lvPsf] ;Dkfblso, sljtf / n]vx?n] el/Psf] pQm klqsfsf csf{ ;Dkfbs lyP– xl/uf]ljGb n'FO6]n . ;+o'Qm hg–cfGbf]ngsf] 3f]if0ff / lj/f]wsf tflnsfx? 5flkPsf] Tof] klqsf e"ldut ?kdf d}n] klg w]/} k|rf/–k|;f/ u/]sf] lyP . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;kfs snf / km'n /f]Kgdf w]/} zf}]lsg kfl/hft lblb lzsf/ / s':tL v]nnfO{ 3[0ff&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;ug'{x'GYof] . d}n] gu]Gb|/fh k|;fO{ bfO{sf] lglDt lnPsf] cGt/jftf{df lblbn] cfˆgf] n]vg ;DaGwL Pp6f /x:osf] ufF7f] km'sfpg' ePsf] lyof] . lzl/ifsf] km'n n]Vg cl3 kfl/hft lblbn] rf/ j6f pkGof; n]Vg' ePsf] lyof] hf] qmdzM ;+3if{, dfgj cGt/ofdL, j/lkkn / zf/bf lyP . t/ ;Gtf]if gnfu]/ ;a} hnfOPsf lyP . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Preeti"&gt;;flxTon] /fhgLltsf] s]lx af]em af]lslbg' k5{ eGg] ljrf/sL kfl/hft lblb cfkm}+nfO{ /fhgLlts b:tfj]h n]Vg] ;flxTosf/ xf]Og eGg'x'GYof] . slxn] klg kb / k};fsf] lglDt s;}sf] kl5 gs'b\g] kfl/hft lblb g]kfnL ;flxTos hutdf Pp6f pbfx/0fLo AolQmTj x'g\ – Ps o'u ;|i6f . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-7713365641577854041?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/7713365641577854041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=7713365641577854041' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/7713365641577854041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/7713365641577854041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2009/02/remembering-parijat.html' title='Remembering Parijat'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-4315749056630529025</id><published>2008-07-17T04:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T08:43:35.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Responses on Paradigm shift in political thinking</title><content type='html'>On Sat, Jul 12, 2008 at 11:06 PM, r acharya &lt;&lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="mailto:acharya_rp@hotmail.com" target="_blank"&gt;acharya_rp@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&gt; wrote:&lt;br /&gt;     Dear  Saradji   Thanks  a  lot  for Ur  interesting  article in  The KTM Post. It  is very  relevent  in  our  context  now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Rajeshwar Acharya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On 7/13/08, #CHANDRA SING GURUNG# &lt;&lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="mailto:CHAN0397@ntu.edu.sg" target="_blank"&gt;CHAN0397@ntu.edu.sg&lt;/a&gt;&gt; wrote:&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sarad Jee,&lt;br /&gt;                      I agree with you. By the way, when you name Lee Kuan Yew, it has to be in full or just write Mr. Lee  or LKY commonly known in Singapore. Keep it up though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regards,&lt;br /&gt;Chandra Sing Gurung&lt;br /&gt;Postgraduate Student&lt;br /&gt;Nanyang Technological University&lt;br /&gt;Singapore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. Pradhan,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warm Greetings from the home! I am reading your articles "Paradigm shift in political thinking" in todays's The Kathmandu Post. Excellent article in appropriate time. Your efforts in sperading such views is highly commendable. I hope those leaders who claim themselves have nation building visions must reat it and have lessons. They do not have to spend time in speech or reading or travelling overeseas for it. If they are honest to the nation and people, they can get it from your article. To be frank to tell you that I have been reading articles written by various Nepal's renowned PhD holders. I am tired with their articles and I hate to call them PhD holders. I have found them very poor in attitudes more than  begger attitudes. I cannot makeup any clues on their messages; why they write and for what purposes! Almost all articles, I found them with a complete bianess or inclined with one's personal interest in pleasing to; USA, India, China, individual poliical parties, or king etc.  This is not appropriate time in nepal to please some one. It is time for us to know what is right and wrong and what we can do for nation and people. As of today, I must say this is the only ariticle I found dedicated to the nation and peoples interest. I can say your article is simple but contains valuable message.  I am afraid on very few poeple have read it. Also those so called statemens may not have it in hand. I suggest, if possible rewrite in Nepali and publishe in Nepali newspaprs too.  Also strongly I suggest, if possible print in Nepali and distribute to those leaders who are crying to death saying that they have visions of nation building. Mr. Pradhan, as a public of Nepal, I extend you my warm salute in writing such mesage for Neal and nepalese's inerest. Please keep it up. One day, we would know what you mean it. Thank you and have a good day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shyam Shrestha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. Pradhan,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greetings from home! So nice of you responsing my mail. Tons of thanks for. Exactly , I agree with your thoughts and afraid of being the same as you mentioned. Do it now and if possible just distribute it to the concerned leaders individually, requesting them do not go far for the national building lessons and tell them, if you are honest and sincere  to the nation and people and have lessons from the nations and leaders what you have examples.This example would be a fundamental matra to them in leading the nation towards the economic developments. Pradhan jee, please keep up your spirit to the end for collective interest.  All best to you and namaste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shyam Shrestha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On 7/14/08, Kanak Kshetri &lt;&lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="mailto:kanak@mit.edu" target="_blank"&gt;kanak@mit.edu&lt;/a&gt;&gt; wrote:&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sir,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read with great interest your article in the Nepalnews site. I thought it was incoherent, lacked any thesis, and contradictory. Despite the theatrical introductory paragraph bashing "despotism", you cite yet another "despot", Lee Kuan Yew, as a positive figure, which is frankly, illogical. Even your conclusion talks about needing a "person", when it is quite clear, both by your sentiment and by the general demagoguery demonstrated in the past few years that the nepali people seem to have only a selfish motive to rule the country by themselves. It is thus, hypocritical for you to claim that nepal needs a "savior", when you are so busy in your theatrical decrying of "despots".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-kanak&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an inspirational and yet, contradictory piece of writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should Nepal also look for a non-democrat like Lee Kuan Yew to lead our country?  He delivered for Singapore, no doubt, but Singapore is definitely not a democracy.  Is this what the writer is proposing for Nepal?  If Gyanendra had delivered economic progress to Nepal, would this writer celebrate his autocracy the way he celebrates Lee Kuan Yew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Popularity may not be a parameter to achieve economic growth but it is certainly THE parameter to remain in office.  Again, is the writer suggesting that Nepal go back to an autocracy where popular vote counts for nothing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My recommendation to Mr. Pradhan is that he undertake a paradigm shift in his own thought process - from wishful thinking to being more firmly grounded in reality.  Only after he has reconciled with himself may be propound advice to the rest of us.  Hopefully, of the rational variety.&lt;br /&gt;Baje- In Nepalnews.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="table-layout: fixed;" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td height="100%" valign="top" width="85%"&gt;        &lt;table border="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;         &lt;td valign="middle"&gt;&lt;a href="http://discussion.nepalnews.com/index.php?topic=1286.msg15775#msg15775"&gt;&lt;img src="http://discussion.nepalnews.com/Themes/safmc101/images/post/xx.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;         &lt;td valign="middle"&gt;          &lt;div style="font-weight: bold;" id="subject_15775"&gt;           &lt;a href="http://discussion.nepalnews.com/index.php?topic=1286.msg15775#msg15775"&gt;Re: Paradigm shift in political thinking &lt;/a&gt;          &lt;/div&gt;          &lt;div class="smalltext"&gt;« &lt;b&gt;Reply #2 on:&lt;/b&gt; July 11, 2008, 03:39:45 am »&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;         &lt;td style="font-size: smaller;" align="right" height="20" valign="bottom"&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;        &lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;        &lt;hr class="hrcolor" size="1" width="100%"&gt;        &lt;div class="post"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Leaving slight exception on the contents of article,the most thoughtful,adoptable,actualistic master piece of author,brought by Mr.Sarad Pradhan,seems to be highly commendable,read-wprthy and appreciative as well.&lt;br /&gt;Certainly,Nepal and entire Nepali people ,with exception to blind indoctrinated and selfish oriented followers of so called democratic parties, are looking for a statesman to run the most troubled and disturbed nation who have strong will power and dedication to nation like Lee Kwan Yee and ,devoted to democracy and national reconciliation as well as wider and tender heart to accepting the ex-enemy as a friend and team-member essential to succeed noble mission of rebuilding the nation like great leader Nelson Mandela,Frm president of S.Africa.But,unfortunately there is not yet seen any possibility to have such statesman at this point of time in Nepal.&lt;br /&gt; So, with the heavy heart and despite of unwillingness it seems  that there is  a mandatory in saying: Nepalis are still need to have more troublesome and insecured time to pass ahead atleast for few more years because of thses power hunger,selfish and puppets of external power who are known as a politicians and party-leaders who are not hesitating from self-claiming as saying savor of democracy,nation and people.There is another very important as well as  dangerous situation as well,if the independent scholars,neutral political thinkers,intellectuals and real democrats with nothing to do with sole partisan politics,have not really be alert and putting enough and strong moral and other essential pressure on thses power-mongers and puppets leaders for not working anti-national and anti-democratic way,there higher posssibility of failure nation ultimately resulting to lose natinal identity is almost seen as certain.&lt;br /&gt;Jaya Nepal !&lt;/div&gt;       &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Chintit Nepali in Nepalnews.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="table-layout: fixed;" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td height="100%" valign="top" width="85%"&gt;&lt;div class="post"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Yes,I do agree that there are many so called leaders who apart from claiming homeland savers,convert  from  heroes to despots.And it's curios that the countries where a bunch of people claim to be so, have many problems in reality!Look at Burma,the army general acts as an authentic salvador of nation.Singapore is wealthiest but I don't think a country with institutional freedom and civil liberty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nirmal Ghimire, in Nepalnews.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;       &lt;/td&gt;      &lt;/tr&gt;      &lt;tr&gt;       &lt;td class="smalltext" valign="bottom" width="85%"&gt;        &lt;table style="table-layout: fixed;" border="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;         &lt;td colspan="2" class="smalltext" width="100%"&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;        &lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;         &lt;td class="smalltext" id="modified_15784" valign="bottom"&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;         &lt;td class="smalltext" align="right" valign="bottom"&gt;          &lt;img src="http://discussion.nepalnews.com/Themes/safmc101/images/ip.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;          Logged         &lt;/td&gt;        &lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;       &lt;/td&gt;      &lt;/tr&gt;     &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;              &lt;a name="msg15790"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-4315749056630529025?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/4315749056630529025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=4315749056630529025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/4315749056630529025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/4315749056630529025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/07/responses-on-paradigm-shift-in.html' title='Responses on Paradigm shift in political thinking'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-5088434300426038533</id><published>2008-06-30T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T09:45:41.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soch, Invisible Trade and me</title><content type='html'>By Sarad Pradhan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What did you do in this Dashain," jibed my friends at office, tongue in check expecting a stereotype of answer. My uncanny answer took them off guard as I told them I finished reading two interesting and intriguing books at one go. In fact, two books were a kind of Dashain bonus for me which kept me busy throughout the Dashain like playing cards did for others. For last few months, I have heard many times that Karna Sakya was impregnated with ideas to write a book on what he thinks and feels. Finally, I did manage to buy a copy of his latest book Soch in the same day as it released.  In the meantime, another book that I was longing to read for a long time finally made its way to Kathmandu through DHL from Singapore. The book is about the flourishing invisible trade sprawling all over Singapore that Singaporeans pretend to be not known well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I progressed reading Soch, my elderly parents told me to read out loudly to make them heard. One of the reasons to read Karna Sakya's Soch vociferously to my parents was that my own thinking resembles very much with his writing. He is an exponent of positive thinking. And, it reflects in his writing. I don't know how honest he was while&lt;br /&gt;writing this book but the matrix of his career shows lucidly that he is sure-footed and knows what is best for him and the nation. One thing that falls short in his book is about his personal life. I could read between the lines while going through some passages. But his art of writing always keep his readers at bay while taking them to virtual reality of his life- you feel it but cannot touch kind. Soch makes people to think themselves as Hanuman- the monkey god of bygone age with immense capability without realization. What we need is Jambuwan- wise bear among monkeys soldiers of Sukrib-like Karna to make us feel that we are not as worst as we think of ourselves. It didn't take a long time for me to finish it before starting titillating book by Gerrie Lim who writes for The Wall Street Journal, Playboy among others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of months ago my eyes were caught by a news about a book called Invisible Trade which topped the chart of  bestsellers because of its candid approach to prostitution in a country like Singapore. Having been there in 1997 with 24 days stay, it was beyond my comprehension to realize the fact that the area I stayed is also a part of invisible trade, particularly for Chinese clients that Lim mentioned in his book. Unlike academic dissertation, Gerrie Lim explores the secret world of high-priced sex workers in Invisible&lt;br /&gt;Trade with a series of lucid portraits offering insights into this remarkable area of modern commerce which is being operated in the name of escorting. May it sound bizarre but it is true in Singapore that the pervert willingly pays US$ 300 per hour just to get strangled by&lt;br /&gt;an escort girl with her thighs which produces a terrific rush when he climaxes. Alas! Poor me, I did not know then men could have had kick out of choking sensation. Invisible Trade is a testimony of Singapore's double set of morality where oral sex is punishable but prostitution is legal within a certain area. But Singaporean government understand well that it generates millions of dollar revenue which escort agencies pay in form of tax and brings millions of tourists who make it a transit point to relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soch and Invisible Trade never made me bore to tears throughout reading as both books deal with tourism in one way or others. But for Nepali readers, Soch gives more insight into their past and present. To be honest, it is just a layman comment, not a critical analysis of an expert.  Soch makes you ponder to understand the reality of our progress, the success that we achieved, and most importantly it mirrors what we really are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-5088434300426038533?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/5088434300426038533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=5088434300426038533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/5088434300426038533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/5088434300426038533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/06/soch-invisible-trade-and-me.html' title='Soch, Invisible Trade and me'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-3267857336079701316</id><published>2008-06-20T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T01:09:11.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Paradigm shift in Political thinking</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;By Sarad Pradhan&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Until four or five years ago, it was thought to be weird idea even to think of &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; as &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Republican&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Monarchless&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;State&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. For many people, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; without king was unthinkable, let alone Republican. For them, Monarch was a symbol of national unity, an embodiment of nationalism and patriotism. But the choice majority of Nepali people had was different from what many loyalists presumed to be.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Like their king, they lived in an imagery world inundated with illusion. Gloried by sycophants as an incarnation of Lord Vishnu and swayed temporal power, he pretended to be a benevolent king who does not harm and acted as savior of all Nepalis delivering false promises.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;With a rapid transformation of polity, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; is now embracing all kind of social changes that have not seen or heard before. Political wrangle that we have witnessed at the moment to keep themselves in the helm of power speaks volume about the mentality of our politicians who have tenacity to glue with power. Lesson that history taught us that power is&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;like a currency which keeps on passing from one to another should be learned by the leaders. It was with Gyanendra Shah, and it could be with anybody in future. If any party or person fails to deliver the good governance to the people, there is no alternative for them besides handing over the baton to more competent one for the sake of nation and its people. It is right time for our leaders-be it political or social- to go through From Third to First World,&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;which is a Memoirs of Lee Kuan Yew, former prime minister of &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. It is reportedly said that Deng Xiaoping, the man who did more than any other to put &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;China&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; on the path to modernization, &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;had had several parleys with Lee Kuan after &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;China&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; embraced liberal economy in 1978 for learning the lesson for its transformation. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Like &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; also had giant neigbours- &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Malaysia&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Indonesia&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;when it achieved independence. Media Magnet Rupert Murdoch has aptly commented on the book: " More than forty years, Lee Kuan Yew transformed what was a poor, decrepit colony into a shining, rich and modern metropolis-all the time surrounded by hostile powers. With his brilliant, incisive intellect, he is one of the world's most outspoken and respected statesmen. This book is a 'must read' for any student of modern &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Asia&lt;/st1:place&gt;." The book also tells how he attracted foreign investment in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; keeping its interest uphold. To achieve giant leap in the economic development, Lee Kuan is the right role model to follow for economic development, if not a political hero to be cherished with. And, many erudite thinkers and planners suggested &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Third World&lt;/st1:place&gt; countries that this book is a Bible that they should read for development.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Political leaders should understand it clearly that political popularity is not a parameter to achieve economic growth. There should be parity both in theory and action. In this age of globalization, it's impossible to develop a nation without emerging itself into global community. &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;China&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; has modernized its economy- partly by getting foreign firms to pay the tab. It is because it has changed earlier policy and prodded to liberal economy by giving chance to poor becoming richer, not vice versa.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;"Mao's Cultural Revolution devastated &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;China&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, crushing its intellectual, scientific, and artistic capability, eliminating its educational system, and ruining its economy. When Mao died in 1976, he left behind a nation of penniless peasants. Now that his Communist Party has done an about-face, gradually rejoining the world economy, moving toward a market economy and taking nation through an industrial&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;revolution, incomes are rising and the once quashed spirit of Chinese is reappearing, " writes Forbes Foreign Correspondent Ms. Robyn Meredith in her famous book about India and China: The Elephant and the Dragon. As recently as fifteen years ago, nearly everyone in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;China&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; was equally poor, but incomes are stratifying quickly. &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;China&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; already has 320,000 millionaires. A Chinese journalist friend of mine told me recently that he wanted to see Nepal following the footstep of modern China, not the old one.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;People often forget things so easily but memory of tyrants and terrors keep on haunting them for a long time. We have uprooted the despotic king not to beget another despot in future. &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; cannot afford to have another despot. What people want and wish to have is dramatic change in their social and economic life. Many countries in the world had same kind of living standard as we had in early sixties. Because of bad governance and lack of political and economic vision of the leaders, we are lagged behind so miserably that it's a sheer humiliation for us to compare ourselves with them. Though beginning of New Nepal is not as good as we expected because it seems nobody wants to relinquish power and position for people who elected them, New Constitution will definitely address the social, political and economic rights of the people. Unless and until, people are not&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;made well equipped with education, disparity continues to surface in one or another form in society. At the moment, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; is in need of a person with rectitude, not the one with megalomaniac attitude. We don't need a callous leader. We need someone who takes us to new height along with him in tandem, not leaving us behind as many leaders did in the past. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-3267857336079701316?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/3267857336079701316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=3267857336079701316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3267857336079701316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3267857336079701316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/06/paradigm-shift-in-political-thinking.html' title='Paradigm shift in Political thinking'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-1400726331447068547</id><published>2008-06-11T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T21:26:33.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>With Two Generation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/SFCkgkaswnI/AAAAAAAABAk/koLrKTkOlhU/s1600-h/Sarad+dai.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210845648306094706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/SFCkgkaswnI/AAAAAAAABAk/koLrKTkOlhU/s320/Sarad+dai.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; From Left: Renowned mountaineer and son of Late Sir Edmund Hillary- Mr. Peter Hillary, his daughter Amelia Hillary and Me at Tenzing Hillary Lukla Airport before boarding a plane on May 31, 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-1400726331447068547?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/1400726331447068547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=1400726331447068547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/1400726331447068547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/1400726331447068547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/06/with-two-generation.html' title='With Two Generation'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/SFCkgkaswnI/AAAAAAAABAk/koLrKTkOlhU/s72-c/Sarad+dai.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-2927016971005514949</id><published>2008-03-23T03:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T03:03:17.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Litterateur Ishwor Ballabh passes away</title><content type='html'>Renowned litterateur Ishwor Ballabh passed away in Kathmandu March 23, 2008 morning after suffering a major heart stroke.&lt;br /&gt;He taught at Turnbull School, Darjeeling in early sixties. He was one of the founders of Tesro Aayam along with Indra Bahadur Rai and Bairagi Kainla. He got married with Kamala Chettri of Mantulal Building near GDNS Hall.&lt;br /&gt;A heart patient since long, Ballabh died while being rushed to the Norvic Hospital in Thapathali after he complained of severe pain in his chest in the morning. He was 73.&lt;br /&gt;One of the leading figures of 'Tesro Aayam' (third dimension) and 'Lila Lekhan' (magical realism) movement in Nepali literature along with fellow writers Indra Bahadur Rai and Bairagi Kaila, he had more than a dozen books under his name ranging from poetry, drama, novels and essays.&lt;br /&gt;A versatile writer who would be remembered more as a poet and a lyricist par-excellence, one of Ballabh's widely read book of poetry is Ago ka phul haru hoon, Ago ka phul haru hoinan, for which he received the prestigious Madan Puraskar . He was also life-time member of the National Academy.&lt;br /&gt;Ballabh's last rites were performed at the Pashupati Aryaghat&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-2927016971005514949?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/2927016971005514949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=2927016971005514949' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2927016971005514949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2927016971005514949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/03/litterateur-ishwor-ballabh-passes-away.html' title='Litterateur Ishwor Ballabh passes away'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-5634294378527895385</id><published>2008-03-19T04:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T04:19:45.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Q&amp;A with Sarad Pradhan Nepal Tourism Board with questions from the staff at EverestNews.com 3/19/2008</title><content type='html'>Dear Sarad Pradhan, Please reply to these questions as soon as possible, so people can understand where things are.&lt;br /&gt;All questions apply to Everest climbing In Nepal (not Tibet)1.) Can climbers summit Mt Everest before May 1st? if not why not?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: Climbers can summit Mt. Everest before May 1st. But the concern of Chinese authority is that there should not be any climber on the top during the expedition of Olympic torch. Climbing Everest is not like a marathon, and you need the support of all kinds of people like Sherpas, high-altitude porters, Sardar etc. to climb it successfully.&lt;br /&gt;2.) Can climbers climb above base camp between May 1 and May 10th?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: Various associations related with tourism in Nepal including Nepal Mountaineering Association have submitted an appeal to the government saying that they would not allow any expedition to go beyond 3rd camp during this period and would not allow any anti-Chinese in the Everest region.&lt;br /&gt;3.) If climbers cannot climb above Base camp between May 1 and May 10th, then why not?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: I think I have given answer above.&lt;br /&gt;4.) Can climbers summit for sure on May 11th, or is another delay possible if the Chinese do not summit before May 10th?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: I cannot predict it. Assumption doesn't work in this kind of issue.&lt;br /&gt;5.) What happens if the Chinese do not summit until late, like May 23rd? Which is what happened a couple of years ago. Then what?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: It's difficult for me to answer on 'Ifs' because it all depends on the situation. I cannot make assumption.&lt;br /&gt;6.) Will Chinese climbers or the torch be on the Nepal side of the Mountain at all?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: Top of Everest is shared both by Nepal and China. As far as I know they climb from North and descend from the North itself.&lt;br /&gt;7.) At least one company attempted to obtain a permit yesterday from Nepal and was told that the people were out of town.  When will Nepal permits again?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: The government will issue the permission once the technical problem is solved.&lt;br /&gt;8.) Are there multiple people who can issue permits or only one man?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: The Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Civil Aviation issue the permission, not by individual. There is certain formality to complete for it.&lt;br /&gt;9.) Are trekkers allowed to go to Base camp between now and May 1st?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: Trekkers are allowed to go to Base camp any time. But they have to obtain TIMS certificate from Nepal Tourism Board or Trekking Agents Association of Nepal before embarking the trek. TIMS is distributed free of cost and it's for keeping record of trekkers.&lt;br /&gt;10.) Will there be a limit from Nepal on the number of permits issued?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: As far as I know there is no policy right now existed to limit the climbing.&lt;br /&gt;11.) Is Nepal concerned that by the climbers not being able to climb between May 1 and May 10th, that the climb could be more dangerous that normal?&lt;br /&gt;[No Answer was given.]&lt;br /&gt;12.) Do you see ANY possibility that climbers will be able not to climb after May 10th?&lt;br /&gt;Ans: As I said earlier, it all depends on the development of situation at that moment. It's difficult for me to predict on this issue right now.&lt;br /&gt;Sarad Pradhan Nepal Tourism Board 3/19/2008&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-5634294378527895385?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/5634294378527895385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=5634294378527895385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/5634294378527895385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/5634294378527895385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/03/q-with-sarad-pradhan-nepal-tourism.html' title='Q&amp;A with Sarad Pradhan Nepal Tourism Board with questions from the staff at EverestNews.com 3/19/2008'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-2919715181626000661</id><published>2008-03-18T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T09:05:15.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No ban on climbing Himalayas including Everest: MoCTCA</title><content type='html'>The Ministry of Culture, Tourism &amp;amp; Civil Aviation(MoCTCA) issuing a press statement on March 18, 2008 denied the claim that it has suspended the mountaineering expedition to Mt. Everest saying that the dissemination of false information quoting the ministry in this issue has drawn the attention of MoCTCA. MoCTCA in its press statement said that the Ministry has not banned climbing expedition on Mt. Everest and other Himalayan peaks and the policy related to mountaineering expeditions has remained same as previous. Issuing the press statement, Spokesperson of MoCTCA, Joint Secretary Mr. Prem Kumar Rai has requested all media to contact spokesperson of the ministry for the fact before disseminating the information concerning with the Ministry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-2919715181626000661?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/2919715181626000661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=2919715181626000661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2919715181626000661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2919715181626000661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/03/no-ban-on-climbing-himalayas-including.html' title='No ban on climbing Himalayas including Everest: MoCTCA'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-2823218015659993404</id><published>2008-03-12T03:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T03:47:21.678-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Culture'/><title type='text'>Bahas in Kathmandu Valley</title><content type='html'>Kathmandu Valley, a well known repository of medieval art and architecture also houses the largest conglomeration of medieval Buddhist monuments in the form of monasteries or Vihars- locally known as Baha in Newari dialect. In addition to religious sanctity, these Viharas or Bahas offer a living testimony of Buddhist Art flourished since the medieval times. Architecturally, a Baha, usually consists of a square central hall or courtyard enclosed by small rooms or cells, with the main shrine opposite the main entrance.&lt;br /&gt;The deity enthroned inside the main shrine is called Kwapa-dyo, an image of the Buddha sitting in Vajrasana and showing the 'Bhumisparsa (earth touching) 'gesture. The courtyards contain at least one Chaitya. Other common features of a Baha is a 'Torana' (tympanum) over the main entrance and the main is entrance guarded by two stone mythical lions. From the inside, the main entrance is flanked by two Hindu deities Mahakal and Ganesh as the Guardians. The Baha or Bahis have a finial or a small tower on the roof above the main shrine. Although in the mediavel times, the Bahas were used to house communities of celibate monks, presently the Bahas are inhabited by the descendants of the monks who returned to common family life. They are known as Vajracharyas and Shakyas. There are said to be 356 Vihars (Large and small) of which only a few of the famous ones are listed below as representative guide to visit these marvelous Buddhist heritage.&lt;br /&gt;Kathmandu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kumari Baha or Kumari Chen :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Located just opposite the famous Gaddi Baithak in the eastern part of Kathmandu Durbar Square, the complex of Kumari Baha also house the goddess of Kumari - the Royal deity. The Baha or Vihar consists of a three storeyed structure built round an enclosed courtyard and the main entrance is guarded by two huge stone lions. The external facade and inside facade facing the courtyards are embellished with the exquisite wood carved windows and doors. The main shrine is directly opposite to the entrance and there is a stupa / Chaitya in the courtyard. Aside from serving as a Vihar, this is primarily the shrine of the living goddess 'Kumari' a Buddhist girl - chosen and worshipped as an incarnation of Hindu mother deity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kwa- Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is situated in the northern part &amp;amp; Kathmandu in Tha-hiti a few minutes walk from the famous Thamel locality. The shrine is a three storeyed building surmounted by a small cupola. An artistically decorated by wooden frames, the door of the main entrance is flanked by the images of Sariputra and Mandgalyana&lt;br /&gt;• two principal attendants of Lord Buddha.&lt;br /&gt;Inside the courtyard are an 'Ashokan Chaitya' a stupa structure of earlier period and a common small Chaitya on a pillar. The steps leading to the main shrine are flanked by two metal lions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Musya Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Located in Jyatha adjacent to Tha-hiti, this Baha is one of the few typical Baha structures left intact. The entire building is of two storeys. The main deity (Kwapa-dyo) is an image of Aksobhya facing north and the main door of the shrine is guarded by two stone lions. Wooden carved struts support the entire tiled roof structure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dhwaka Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes walk down the road from Masya Baha is Dhwakabaha is a aspacious courtyard with the shrine of the main deity 'Aksobbya' located in the south-east corner facing north. Although the vihar has not been able to retain its original structure - due to the severe damage in the great earthquake of 1934, there are three stupas of which two stupas date back to Licchavi period testifying antiquity of the place. Historians have ascribed the origin of the Vihar to not later than 7th century A.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chusya Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Located in Jyatha Tole - a minutes walk down the road from Musya Baha, Chusya Baha, probably is the finest example of Baha architectures. Directly opposite the entrance is the shrine of Akshobhya the Kwapadyo, facing north. The entrance is flanked by two elephants. One of the most striking features of the Baha is the series of beautifully carved struts supporting the courtyard. As the struts are ascribed to the fourteenth century A.D., it is believed the origin of the monastery could be dated even earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Itum Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Situated a little west of Kilagal Tole, Itum Baha is one of the largest and oldest of Vihar complexes. It is a large, rectangular courtyard and surrounded on three sides by residential buildings. Although three other subsidiary vihars adjacent to the main courtyard comprise the vihar complex, the main shrine is located in second subsidiary courtyard. Over the entryway to this courtyard is an exquisitely carved wooden torana depicting an episode from Lord Gautam Buddha's life and is believed to belong sixteenth century A.D. or even earlier period. The main deity or the Kwapa dyo is an image of Aksobhya facing east- the main entrance. The Baha shrine is marked by a metal lions and stone lines flanked large temple bells. In the centre of the courtyard is an Chaitya (Stupa) and to the east of this a stylised stupa with large Buddha figures believed to be dated between eleventh or twelfth century.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yatkha Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few walks from Itum Baha is another Baha in the Yatkha Tole. Although it does not bear any common features of a typical monastery anymore, this Baha is noted for a large stupa, in the centre of the large courtyard - surrounded by residential houses. The main shrine building is of recent renovation. However, the wooden 'Torana' is of unusual depiction of seven Buddhas and probably dates back to twelfth century A.D. The central stupa is a reminscent of the famous 'Swoyambhunath' Stupa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Takse Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Baha is situated off Asan Tole - one of the busy bazaar areas of Kathmandu. The entrance to the shrine is marked by two stone lions each flanked by large temple bells. Over the doorway is a metal torana depicting Mahavairochana - the first of five celestial Buddhas. The main deity of the Vihar is an image 'Aksobhya' facing north. In the courtyard are an 'Asoka' chaitya and three other votive chaityas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Te Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A famous court yard or a locality in Kathmandu, is located in the eastern end of New road. Although the salient features of a typical Baha is virtually missing it is assumed the compound comprises two Bahas in medieval times. One of the main shrines 'Kwapa dyo' is situated among the buildings along the western side. The second 'Kwapadyo' is located in the center. The compound is more renowned because of other religious shrines and historic stupas existing here. Among others, within the complex are the house of a deity celled 'Sankata', the shrine of 'Bhadrakali' Chen (or the residence) two highly popular Shakta deities of the Kathmandu valley. In addition, the open area also houses several Licchavi - period stupas - chaityas. Historians attribute this area as of high historic importance and ascribe the origin to 5th century A.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jana Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Located in Kel Tole, this Baha is one of the most famous of all the Bahas of Kathmandu. Hundreds of devotees throng to this places since early morning to early afternoon. Also every evening, religious prayers are sung at the main entrance of the courtyard at the tunes of traditional devotional music. Culturally, this Baha is most well known as the home of White - Matshyendranath or Jana Baha dyo or Karunamaya - the compassionate one. Although, the Baha does not possess a typical Baha architecture (original structures destroyed in 1917 fire), the importance of the courtyard is enhanced by the shrine of Jan Baha dyo. The shrine is a two storeyed elaborately decorated temple. The whole facade of the temple is decorated with a great array of Buddhist figures and each of the three doorways has a repousse torana / tympanum.&lt;br /&gt;Directly in front of the main door of the shrine is a small chaitya - known as Kanak Chaitya (presently a shape of white dome). In addition, the courtyard is filled with an array of stone images and thirty one votive stupas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sigha Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Situated in the Naghal Tole - few minutes walk from Thamel is a Sigha Baha also known as Kathe Swoyambhu - a large courtyard with a huge stupa - reminiscent of the great Swayambhunath. The dome of the stupa rests on white-washed pedestal. Above the dome or Garbha is a four sided harmika with all-seeing eyes similar to those at Swayambhu. In the courtyard around the main stupa are a number of votive Chaityas. shrines including mother Harati and deities from Mahayan Pantheon. Offer important feature is a stone standing Padampani assigned to the ninth century A.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Syangu Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The local Buddhist community of Kathmandu refer the famous Swoyambhunath shrines as Syangu dyo - and it is assumed there existed a Buddhist Baha in the olden times, However, the whole complex is dominated by the all famous "Swoyambhu Mahachaitya" - the huge white dome towered by harmika in each cardinal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tham Bahi:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also known as Bhagwan Baha, Tham Bahi is one of the best preserved complex of its kind. Located in the northern part of old Kathmandu township the famous area of Thamel drives its name from Tham Bahi. The Bahi/monastery is only a stone's throw from the main bazaar of Thamel. The main shrine is located through an entryway which opens to the courtyard proper. The main shrine is directly opposite the entrance and is of three storeys with a large cuppola. The shrine is flanked by two mythical creatures Sardulas and lions. The main deity of the shrine is an image of Simha Sartha Bahu a legendary hero/ trader of ancient Kathmandu. The complex is typical with a two storied building with open halls on ground floor and lattice covered, overhanging balconies above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Patan / Lalitpur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of all the Viharas in Kathmandu Valley the or Bahas of Patan also known as Lalitpur is more renowned for the artistic workmanship in tera cotta metal and wood works. Numerically too, the town of Patan has more Bahas than other cities of Kathmandu and Bhaktapur. For centuries, Patan has remained prodominantly Buddhist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kwa Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kwa Baha also well known by its sanskrit name Hiranyavarna Mahavihar, is the foremost Baha (monastery) of Patan. Situated just down the street from the crossroads known as Kwalakhu Tole, this Baha is probably known as one of the most active Bahas. The complex is known as the most lavishly decorated of the Bahas primarily because the community members are wealthy traders who have constantly embellished the complex. The street entrance has two large stone lions as guardians and a stone facade with a stone tympanum depicting celestial Buddhas.&lt;br /&gt;Passing Through this entrance and a small entry way leads to the main shrine complex. Nick named as 'the Golden temple' inside the complex are numerous gilded images and the facade of the imposing Kwapadyo shrine (the main deity). The temple in the centre of the courtyard is another attraction which is made of gild copper repousse work. The main shrine is a four storied structure with three gilded roofs. The entrance is flanked by two large cast iron mythical lions each standing on an elephant and surmounted by an image of Lokeswore. The doorway to the shrine is an excellent temple of metal workmanship - all finished in gilt repousse work and above it is one of the finest tympanum (torana) anywhere all made of silver. The Kawapadyo (main deity) of the Baha is a large silver image of Aksobhya facing east.&lt;br /&gt;As said earlier, the other striking feature, of this complex is the shimmering temple in the center of the courtyard which enshrines a Chaitya from Licchavi era. The shrine is an excellent piece of extraordinary metal work and almost entirely covered with gold and metal. It has a single gilt copper roof above which rises a pinnacle with four snakes whose curved tail raise to hold a multi-staged umbrella over the main bell shaped final, Historically, this Baha dates back to not later than eleventh century A.D. or even earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Uku Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uku Baha is one of the best preserved and oldest of all Bahas of Patan. Located a minutes walk south medieval heritage. Also known by its from the Sundhara (the golden spout), this Baha displays a unique collection of sanskrit name 'Rudravarna Mahavihara, this Vihar is said to have the largest number of branches in the valley. Passing through a gateway in the street one enters the first compound and an entryway from this is led into Uku Baha&lt;br /&gt;itself.&lt;br /&gt;The main shrine is of three two roof structure. Steps leading to the shrine are flanked by large stone mythical lions each standing on a crouching elephant an surmounted by an image of Lokeswore. The doorway is marked by a finely worked repousse of arch of leaf and floral motifs. The Kwapa dyo is a large metal image of Aksobhya. Opposite the shrine in the courtyard runs a row of traditional pieces. The first item is a Lichhavi Style Chaitya followed by 'Dharmadhatu Mandala' surmounted by a Vajra, a recess for the sacred fire, a metal lamp on a stand and an image of Manjushree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mahabuddha Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The famous temple of Mahabuddha is the best known shrines of Patan. Situated in the south of Uku Baha and inside a small cramped courtyard, Mahabudha Buddha complex consists of a large terracotta 'Sikhara' style temple in the centre of the courtyard which houses the shrine of Kwapa dyo with a shrine to the mother deity to the side. Completely made of terracotta in this temple every brick has an image of Buddha. So the complex is also called the temple of 'thousand Buddhas'. Although, this unique temple is said to have been influenced by the architectural from of Bodh Gaya, a close look would reveal the originality of a Nepalese structure. Although the present structure is newly built after the great earthquake of 1934 exactly as of original one, the foundation of the structure was laid during sixteenth century A.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chaku Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also known as Tanga Baha, this complex is located in the Tanga Tole on the east side of the road leading south from the Patan Durbar Square. The complex does not offer a typical Baha complex as most of the buildings and structures are of a recent origin except the free standing temple of main deity or the Kwapa dyo. The Kwapa dyo is the red image of Padampani Lokeswore. This deity is popularity known as Chakuba dyo or Minnath. The temple structure is two storeyed of which upper roof is gilded copper and the lower one is tiled roof. In addition the courtyard has several other pieces of antiquity and archaeological importance. It include a bathing platform, several votive chaityas, stone mandalas, interesting stone mythological lions, a large prayer wheel and a rest houses all dating not later than 17th century A.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ta Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This huge courtyard is located just opposite the Chaku Baha across the street. The complex is well known amongst the Buddhist community primarily because the Baha, in addition to a well established odd monastery (vihar) shrine, also houses the temple of 'Bungadyo' Red Machhendranath. And these two shrines are totally independent in functioning.&lt;br /&gt;Along the southern wall of the complex is the house of 'Kwapadyo' the shrine of the Baha. It is a single standing - probably a part of larger complex in the earlier times. Doorway of the shrine is surmounted by a torana - itself surmounted by a triple parasol The deify 'Kwapadyo' is an image of Aksobhaya facing north.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chovar or Cho Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Very popular Buddhist shrine Chobaha is located in the center of the Chobhar Village above the gorge across the Bagmati river. The complex is an entirely closed courtyard at the top of the hill and the shrine of Kwapadyo is a three storeyed, multiple roofed temple, Of the three roofs upper most is gilded copper the rest are tiled roofs. The most striking feature of the temple is the great array of pots, pans and household utensils nailed to almost all the open space on the surface above the ground floor. It is believed such offerings are done in the temple so as to benefit the deceased relatives in their after next birth. The Kwapadyo enshrine in the temple is an image of Adinath - Lokeswore and is the main attraction of the complex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ha Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also known as Hakha Baha or Hatko Baha, is one of the few Bahas of Kathmandu which has retained the original Baha architectural norms and preserved the mediavel beauty. The street entrance is a stone arch torana depicted with fine celestial Buddhas and the door is marked two stone lions. The shrine of the Kwapa dyo opposite the entrance is an imposing three storey temple. The doorway to the shrine is elaborately carved and finished in repousse metal. The image of the Kawapadyo is an image of Aksobhya facing north. In the courtyard, there is on array of several mandalas and Chaitya - some even dating back 7th century AD from Licchavi period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bhaktapur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Laskadyo Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The complex is best known as the Bhaktapur Shrine of Matshyendranath. Situated in Itachhen Tole, this temple is a two storeyed structure - one tiled roof surmounted by two smaller roofs farming a sort of cupola. The lower of the small roof is tiled, the upper one is of gilded copper and surmounted by a golden gajur (pinnacle) make in the form of a Chaitya.&lt;br /&gt;The Kwapadyo (the main deity) of the shrine is a metal image of Padampani Lokeswore. Locally also known Annapurna - Lokeswore is fully covered with a metal cloak embellished with floral ornaments. The locals worship this shrine as the local deity of Matshendranath Karunamaya or Loknath. In front of the temple are a cluster of seven Chaityas and dharamdhata mandala. The shrine is dated to belong around seventeenth century A.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Inacho Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Situated in Inacho Tole, the Baha complex possess one of the few well preserved Baha shrines left in Bhaktapur. The doorway of the shrine is marked by two stone lions. The Kwapadyo in the shrine is Aksobhya facing west. The first storey has the customary five fold, carved window flanked by two smaller windows carved struts depicting the five Buddhas supporting the roof. In the center of the courtyard are three chaityas, the central one of which has a ring of oil lamps around it. Historians ascribe this shrine complex to the late Malla period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tadhi Chen Baha:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Located just off the area of the Bhaktapur Durbar Square, it is possibly the only example of Baha architectural structure left intact. It is one continuous building in a small courtyard. Opposite the main entrance is the shrine of the Kwapa dyo - Padampani Lokeswore. The entrance is flanked by two stone lions. The shrine of Dipankara is located in the north west corner of the complex. The origin of the Baha is dated to early fifteenth century A.D.&lt;br /&gt;When to visit the Bahas Although a Baha is always open to outside visitors except the Kwapa dyo Shrine, it is more rewarding to visit during certain occasions when the Bahas observes annual ritual/festival or during the initiation of Buddhist community (Bare Chuyegu) i.e. Bajracharyas and Shakyas. The recommended time to visit these Bahas is 'Gunla'- a month from a Newari Calendar which normally occurs in mid July to mid-August. During the month these festivals mentioned above take place.&lt;br /&gt;• Panchdaan - The alms giving of five offerings. The day differs in each of three cities of the valley.&lt;br /&gt;• Bahidyo - boyegu - The display of gods and goddess of the shrine which lasts for the days.&lt;br /&gt;• Mataya - a festival of light - This is a typical of Patan Buddhists which is not observed elsewhere. On this day, the Buddhists of Patan visit all the Bahas and Buddhist shrines carrying lighted candles, torches or tapers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-2823218015659993404?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/2823218015659993404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=2823218015659993404' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2823218015659993404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/2823218015659993404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/03/bahas-in-kathmandu.html' title='Bahas in Kathmandu Valley'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-5497234610510323555</id><published>2008-03-12T03:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T21:26:33.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sir Edmund Hillary and Me back in 1985</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/R9ex8vkQIzI/AAAAAAAAAzw/xr7dBjBjGHo/s1600-h/IMG_5000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/R9ex8vkQIzI/AAAAAAAAAzw/xr7dBjBjGHo/s320/IMG_5000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176801953804460850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-5497234610510323555?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/5497234610510323555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=5497234610510323555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/5497234610510323555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/5497234610510323555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/03/sir-edmund-hillary-and-me-back-in-1985.html' title='Sir Edmund Hillary and Me back in 1985'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/R9ex8vkQIzI/AAAAAAAAAzw/xr7dBjBjGHo/s72-c/IMG_5000.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-1030705445993133685</id><published>2008-03-10T21:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T21:39:02.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tourism or voyeurism?</title><content type='html'>&lt;h1&gt;Tourism or voyeurism?&lt;/h1&gt;Mar 09, 2008  &lt;p&gt;Michael Cronin’s job as a college admissions officer took him to India two or  three times a year, so he had already seen the usual sites — temples, monuments,  markets — when one day he happened across a flier advertising “slum tours.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“It just resonated with me immediately,” said Mr. Cronin, who was staying at  a posh Taj Hotel in Mumbai where, he noted, a bottle of Champagne cost the  equivalent of two years’ salary for many Indians. “But I didn’t know what to  expect.” &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Soon, Mr. Cronin, 41, found himself skirting open sewers and ducking to avoid  exposed electrical wires as he toured the sprawling Dharavi slum, home to more  than a million. He joined a cricket game and saw the small-scale industry, from  embroidery to tannery, that quietly thrives in the slum. “Nothing is considered  garbage there,” he said. “Everything is used again.” &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Mr. Cronin was briefly shaken when a man, “obviously drunk,” rifled through  his pockets, but the two-and-a-half-hour tour changed his image of India.  “Everybody in the slum wants to work, and everybody wants to make themselves  better,” he said. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Slum tourism, or “poorism,” as some call it, is catching on. From the favelas  of Rio de Janeiro to the townships of Johannesburg to the garbage dumps of  Mexico, tourists are forsaking, at least for a while, beaches and museums for  crowded, dirty — and in many ways surprising — slums. When a British man named  Chris Way founded Reality Tours and Travel in Mumbai two years ago, he could  barely muster enough customers for one tour a day. Now, he’s running two or  three a day and recently expanded to rural areas.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Slum tourism isn’t for everyone. Critics charge that ogling the poorest of  the poor isn’t tourism at all. It’s voyeurism. The tours are exploitative, these  critics say, and have no place on an ethical traveler’s itinerary. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“Would you want people stopping outside of your front door every day, or  maybe twice a day, snapping a few pictures of you and making some observations  about your lifestyle?” asked David Fennell, a professor of tourism and  environment at Brock University in Ontario. Slum tourism, he says, is just  another example of tourism’s finding a new niche to exploit. The real purpose,  he believes, is to make Westerners feel better about their station in life. “It  affirms in my mind how lucky I am — or how unlucky they are,” he said. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Not so fast, proponents of slum tourism say. Ignoring poverty won’t make it  go away. “Tourism is one of the few ways that you or I are ever going to  understand what poverty means,” said Harold Goodwin, director of the  International Center for Responsible Tourism in Leeds, England. “To just kind of  turn a blind eye and pretend the poverty doesn’t exist seems to me a very denial  of our humanity.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The crucial question, Mr. Goodwin and other experts say, is not whether slum  tours should exist but how they are conducted. Do they limit the excursions to  small groups, interacting respectfully with residents? Or do they travel in  buses, snapping photos from the windows as if on safari? &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Many tour organizers are sensitive to charges of exploitation. Some encourage  — and in at least one case require — participants to play an active role in  helping residents. A church group in Mazatlán, Mexico, runs tours of the local  garbage dump, where scavengers earn a living picking through trash, some of it  from nearby luxury resorts. The group doesn’t charge anything but asks  participants to help make sandwiches and fill bottles with filtered water. The  tours have proven so popular that during high season the church group has to  turn people away. “We see ourselves as a bridge to connect the tourists to the  real world,” said Fred Collom, the minister who runs the tours. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;By most accounts, slum tourism began in Brazil 16 years ago, when a young man  named Marcelo Armstrong took a few tourists into Rocinha, Rio de Janeiro’s  largest favela, or shantytown. His company, Favela Tour, grew and spawned half a  dozen imitators. Today, on any given day in Rio, dozens of tourists hop in  minivans, then motorcycles and venture into places even Brazil’s police dare not  tread. Organizers insist the tours are safe, though they routinely check  security conditions. Luiz Fantozzi, founder of the Rio-based Be a Local Tours,  says that about once a year he cancels a tour for security reasons. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The tours may be safe, but they can be tense. Rajika Bhasin, a lawyer from  New York, recalls how, at one point during a favela tour, the guide told  everyone to stop taking pictures. A young man approached the group, smiling and  holding a cocked gun. Ms. Bhasin said she didn’t exactly feel threatened, “just  very aware of my surroundings, and aware of the fact that I was on this guy’s  turf.” &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Still, she said, the experience, which included visiting galleries featuring  the work of local artists, was positive. “Honestly, I would say it was a  life-changing experience,” Ms. Bhasin said. Saying she understood the  objections, she parried, “It has everything to do with who you are and why  you’re going.” &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Chuck Geyer, of Reston, Va., arrived for a tour in Mumbai armed with hand  sanitizer and the expectation of human misery incarnate. He left with a changed  mind. Instead of being solicited by beggars, Mr. Geyer found himself the  recipient of gifts: fruit, and dye to smear on his hands and face, as people  celebrated the Hindu festival of Holi. “I was shocked at how friendly and  gracious these people were,” Mr. Geyer said.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Proponents of slum tourism say that’s the point: to change the reputation of  the slums one tourist at a time. Tour organizers say they provide employment for  local guides and a chance to sell souvenirs. Chris Way has vowed to put 80  percent of his profits back into the Dharavi slum. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The catch, though, is that Mr. Way’s company has yet to earn a profit on the  tours, for which he charges 300 rupees (around $7.50). After receiving flak from  the Indian press (“a fair criticism,” Mr. Way concedes), he used his own money  to open a community center in the slum. It offers English classes, and Mr. Way  himself mentors a chess club. Many of those running favela tours in Brazil also  channel a portion of their profits into the slums. Luiz Fantozzi contributes to  a school and day-care center. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;But slum tourism isn’t just about charity, its proponents say; it also  fosters an entrepreneurial spirit. “At first, the tourists were besieged by  beggars, but not anymore,” said Kevin Outterson, a law professor from Boston who  has taken several favela tours. Mr. Fantozzi has taught people, Mr. Outterson  said, “that you’re not going to get anything from my people by begging, but if  you make something, people are going to buy it.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Even critics of slum tourism concede it allows a few dollars to trickle into  the shantytowns, but say that’s no substitute for development programs. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Mr. Fennell, the professor of tourism in Ontario, wonders whether the  relatively minuscule tourist revenue can make a difference. “If you’re so  concerned about helping these people, then write a check,” he said. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;nytimes.com&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-1030705445993133685?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/1030705445993133685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=1030705445993133685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/1030705445993133685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/1030705445993133685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/03/tourism-or-voyeurism.html' title='Tourism or voyeurism?'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-8574614125734639089</id><published>2008-03-04T02:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T21:26:33.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lumbini-Birthplace of Lord Buddha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/R80knKda7QI/AAAAAAAAAzg/HFMbUoR3d0w/s1600-h/IMG_1820.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/R80knKda7QI/AAAAAAAAAzg/HFMbUoR3d0w/s320/IMG_1820.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173831802159820034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-8574614125734639089?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/8574614125734639089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=8574614125734639089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/8574614125734639089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/8574614125734639089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/03/lumbini-birthplace-of-lord-buddha.html' title='Lumbini-Birthplace of Lord Buddha'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wodqk2r0Mpo/R80knKda7QI/AAAAAAAAAzg/HFMbUoR3d0w/s72-c/IMG_1820.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-3149133664635403922</id><published>2008-02-28T04:10:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T04:19:00.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Short  Eassys  by Nagendra Sharma</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 20pt; 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W]f/}h;f] afx'gx?n], afx'gx?s} -kmfObfsf] lglDt_ lglDt ;[hgf u/]sf /rgfx? xf]nfg\ . -stfstf d}n] ca|fxd lnGsgsf] k|hftGqsf] JofVofnfO{&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;rf]/L t ul/g+ &lt; ===z+sf klg nfU5 cfkm}+nfO{ ._ t/ d cfkm}+ klg afx'gsf] 5f]/f] ePsf]n] xf]nf, jf:tljstf Tof]eGbf km/s eP h:tf] nfUb}g .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;To;}n] xf] ls, 8f= cf/= ;L= dh'dbf/n] ;Dkfbg u/]sf] &lt;i&gt;bL j]lbs Ph&lt;/i&gt; -nG8g, ;g\ !(%!_ df k|fWofks aL=s]+ 3f]ifn] n]v]sf lgaGwdf …s]jn wfld{s sd{sf08x?df s]lGb|t /x]/ / k'gh{Gd, k'0osdfO, h:tf sfNklgstfn] el/Psf oL u|Gyx? J}lbs ;flxTodf ;a}eGbf lgDgsf]l6sf / :jfy{efjdf r'n'{Dd 8'a]sf /rgfÚ eg]sfn] -k[= @@%_ / d}n] dfly &lt;i&gt;afx'gx?n], afx'gx?sf] lglDt, &lt;/i&gt;cflb eg]/ c3]{NofO+ t u/]sf] /x]g5' eg]/ 9'Ss klg nfU5 .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;DofS;\ Do"n/ t cem yK5g&lt;i&gt;\,&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]s'g} 8fS6/ jf slj/fhn] af}nfxfx?sf] rLTsf/ / rlt{snfnfO{ h;/L x]5{g\, To;} ?kdf dfq oL s[ltx?nfO{ x]g{;lsG5 . ] &lt;/i&gt;csf]{ zAbdf eGg] xf] eg], oL u|Gyx?n] k|fy{gf, o1, sd{sf08, cflbsf] dxTj t bzf{p+5g\ g}, ;fy} hfteft / 5'jf5't h:tf g/fd|f k/Dk/fnfO{ ;d]t wd{sf] hnk nfP/ k]z u/]sf 5g\ . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Affx'gx? / ltgLx?af6 ;~rflnt sd{sf08L k|yf cToGt zlStzfnL ePsf, ltgn] k|s[lt dfq geO{ b]jLb]ptfx? ;d]tnfO{ lgoGq0f / jzdf /fVg;Sg] h:tf p8Gt] s'/fsf]] lj:t[t JofVof u/]/ kl08tk'/f]lxtx?sf] cx|gv6gdf ;dfhnfO{ 8f]/\ofpg] k|r]i6f ul/Psf] logdf k|:6 ?kdf emlNsG5 .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Zftky a|fx\d0f gfds u|Gy :jod\ eG5,&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]&lt;i&gt;jf:tjdf b]ptfx? b'O k|sf/sf 5g\ . Pp6f pgLx? cfkm}+ / csf{ j]b k9\g] / k9fpg] k08t/ k'/]tx?===.&lt;/i&gt; Ú&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;olt eg]kl5 d}n] s]xL ylk/xg] h?/t 5 t &lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 20pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                   &lt;/span&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;x'gt pklgifb\x?af/] d]/f] cWoog clt guGo g} 5, tfklg dnfO{ nfUb5, rfx] 1fglj1fgsf] b[li6n] x]/f}+, rfx] bz{gsf], ;a}eGbf k|d'v / pTs[i6 k|frLg ;+:s[t wd{u|Gyx? pklgifb\ g} x'g\ . t/ ;a} pklgifb\nfO{ &lt;i&gt;k|frLg&lt;/i&gt; eg]/ 7f]s'jf ul/xfNbf klg d}n] c3]{NofO+ u/]+ ls eGGf] gnfu]sf] xf]Og . lsgeg] Psflt/ cg';Gwfgstf{x?n] &lt;i&gt;j[xbf/0os pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; / &lt;i&gt;5fGbf]Uo pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; nfO{ O{ZjLk"j{sf] ;ftf}+ ztfAbLd} /rgf ul/Psf lyP eGg] ls6fg ul/;s]sfn] ltgnfO{ …k|frLgÚ gegL w/ klg 5}g eg] csf]{lt/, dWo o'udf dfq xf]Og, cfw'lgs sfndf cfOk'Ubf klg s]xL tyfslyt&lt;i&gt;pklgifb&lt;/i&gt; \x?sf] /rgfs|d hf/L g} /x]sf] 5 eGG]f lj1x?sf] klg sdL 5}g .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;ljVoft\ klZrdL bfz{lgs zf]k]gxfj/ t s]xL pklgifb\x?af6 olt k|efljt ePsf lyP5g\ ls pgn] n]v]/} uPsf 5g\, …&lt;i&gt;pklgifb\ d]/f] hLjgsf] 7"nf] ;fGTjgf x'gk'u]sf] 5 . Tolt dfq xf]Og . of] d]/f] d/0fsf] klg ;FTjgf eP/ /xg]5 .Ú&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; sf] zflAbs cy{ xf,] …guLrsf] a;fOÚ . k|frLg Clif / u'?x?sf] guLr a;]/ lziox?n]&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;h'g 1fg1'g k|fKt ug]{uy]{, ltg} 1fgsf ;f/;+u|xnfO{ w]/}&lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; df ;d]l6Psf 5g\ . t/ To;f] eg] tfklg, hDd} &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; df ToxLs'/f] nfu' x'G5 eGg r}+ ufx|f] 5 . lsgeg], dfly eg] em}+, ;a} &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; j}lbssfnd} /lrPsf geO{ kl5kl5, jf cfw'lgs sfnv08df ;d]t, ylk+b} uPsf kfOg' cgf}7f] s'/f] xf]Og . To;} sf/0fn] klg xf]nf, af}4 / h}gwd{ nf]sl|k|o x'+b}uPsf sfnv08df /lrPsf sltko &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; x?df cg]s k/:k/lj/f]wL wf/0ffx? ;d]t kfOG5g\ .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;t} egf}+, oL t eP kl5kl5sf &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; sf s'/f . ;dosf] kl/jQ{g;+u} ljrf/ / wf/0ffx?df klg kl/jQ{g x'+b}hfg' :jfefljs} 5 . t/ csf]{ /dfOnf] kIf t s] 5 eg], lxhf]cfh &lt;i&gt;j]bfGt&lt;/i&gt; -j]bsf] ;f/_ sf] ?kdf xfdLn] &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; nfO{ u0fgf ug{v]fh] tfklg k|fylds sfndf lognfO{ j}lbs ;flxTosf] c+usf] ?kdf dfGotf;d]t k|bfg ul/Ps} lyPg . lsg /] eGbf, ltgsf] pb\ej j]bx?eGbf&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]aflx/ ] ePsf] lyof] /] . vf;u/L ltgdf kfOg] ljZjb]jtfjfb -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Pantheism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;_, cfTdf / k/dfTdf, Oxnf]s / k/nf]s, k'gh{Gd, d'lStk|flKtsf wf/0ffx? -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Eschatology&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;_, cflb ljifox? K|frLg …cl:6|s ] af6 j]bljBfdf ylkgcfPsf lyP klg elgPsf] 5 .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;of]eGbf cl3sf] Ps n3'lgaGwdf d}n] ;+s]t u/] em}+ s]xL &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; nfO{ a|fx\d0f / cf/0os u|Gyx?sf] c+zsf] ?kdf lnOPs]f kfOG5, lsgeg] ltgsf] /rgf klg O{=k"=$)) b]lv @)) sf aLrdf ePsf] c8sn ul/G5 . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;d}n] of] lstfasf] klxnf] ;+:s/0fsf] lglDt t}of/ u/]sf] kf08'lnlkdf eg]sf] lyP+,&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]&lt;i&gt;d'Vo pklgifb\x?sf] ;+Vof hDdf !%) hlt 5g\ eGGf] 5, tfklg k/Dk/fg';f/ !)* dfq&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;…:jLs[t ] dflgG5g\&lt;/i&gt; .&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;t/ d]/f] o:tf] 6]n/df:6/sf] h:tf] 6fn6'n] egfOs} andf o; lstfasf lj1 e'ldsfn]vs, &gt;L /fdnfn cl3sf/L, h:tf vlKk; ljb\jfgsf cf+vfdf 5f/f] xfNg d s] ;Sy]+ &lt;&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]xfdLn] ghfg]sf s'/fx? ] eGg] 3'dfp/f] / Jo+ufTds zLif{s lbP/ n]Vg'ePsf] e"ldsfd} d]/f] uNtL jf sdhf]/L 7\ofSs} ksl8xfNg' ePsf] 5, o;/L M &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;…&lt;i&gt;pklgifb\jfSo dxfsf]zdf hDDff @@# j6f pklgifb\sf] pNn]v kfOG5 . ===db|f; nfOa|]/Laf6 k|sflzt ;"lrkqdf !&amp;amp;( pklgifb\sf] gfd k/]sf] 5 .Ú &lt;/i&gt;pxf+sf] of] egfON]f d]/f cf+vf dfq vf]lnlbPg, …cNklzIff eo+s/LÚ eGG]f pvfg klg ddfly nfu' ePsf] k|dfl0ft ul/lbof] .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]cfsf/sf] b[li6n] x]bf{ Psflt/ j[x&lt;i&gt;bf/0os pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; %) k[i7sf] xf/fxf/Ldf 5 eg], &lt;i&gt;Ozf]klgifb\&lt;/i&gt; s]jn Ps k[i7sf] eGbf nfdf] 5}gÚ eGg] d]/f] n]vfO klg /fdndnhLsf] k|f]km];/L gh/df v8s]5 Sof/ / To;nfO{ ;Rofp+b} pxf+ eGGf'x'G5, …&lt;i&gt;O{zf]klgifb\df hDdf c7f/ kb, Znf]s jf dGqx? 5g\&lt;/i&gt; Ú . t/ ckm;f];, lgoltn] …d]/f] uNtL ;'NemfOlbg'ePsf]df WfGojfb, /fdnfnhLÚ eGGfkfpg] cj;/af6 klg jl~rt ub}{ pxf+nfO{ xfdLaLraf6 crfgs vf];]/ nUof] ===. ca Tof] cj;/ d}n] slxNo} kfpg] 5'Og+ . of]eGbf k5'tf] nfUg] s'/f s] xf]nf &lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;               &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;t/ h] xf];\ , &lt;i&gt;pklgifb&lt;/i&gt;\ x?sf] ;+Vof / cfsf/nfO{ lnP/ uNkmlt ul/xg'eGbf cfh xfd|f] lglDt ltgsf] ljz]if dxTjk"0f{ kIF s ]x'g;S5 eGG]flt/ Ps gh/ bf}8fpm+ xf]nf . lxGb' bz{gsf] x/]s ljrf/;d"x &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;School of thought&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;_ sf] ;|f]t jf d'xfg &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; x?nfO{ dfGg;lsG5 . pbfx/0fsf] lglDt, ;f+Vo bz{gdf kfOg] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;k|s[lt / lqu'0fÚsf l;4fGtx? &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; af6} lg;[t ePsf 5g\ . o;} u/L cfh nf]slk|o eO/x]sf] of]ubz{gsf] d'xfg vf]Hb} uP xfdL &lt;i&gt;Zj]tfZj/ pklgifb\ &lt;/i&gt;df 7f]lsgk'U5f}+ . To:t} dLd+f;f …:s"nÚ sf] ljsf; &lt;i&gt;s7f]klgifb\&lt;/i&gt; af6 yfngL ePsf] eGg]df dt aflemPsf] e]l6+b}g . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;o;}sf/0f g} xf], klZrdf ljb\jTju{, kfn 8\j]:;]g, P= ufj -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Gough&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;_, cf/=O{= x\o'd, P=aL=sLy, cf/= hL= ldNag{ / DofS;\ Do"n/b]lv lnP/ k"j{sf 8f= ;j{kNNfL /fwfs[i0fg, cf/= 8L= /fgf8], Pg= s]= P]o/ h:tf cg]s lj1x?n] klg &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; nfO{ k|frLgsfnsf ;+:s[t u|Gyx?dWo] ;a}eGbf dxTjk"0f{ u|Gysf] ?kdf ltgnfO{ dfGotf lbPsf .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;To:t} b'O j[xt\ 7]nLx?df lheflht cfkm\gf ]k':ts, &lt;i&gt;lb lxGb' jN8&lt;/i&gt;{ -xfk{/ PG8 sf]lnG;, hh{ Pn]g cg\ljg, ;g\ !(^*_ df a]Ghfldg jfs/ &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; af/] eG5g\ ,&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;It is extremely subtle, sublime and profound … Although containing traces of the old mythology snd sacerdotalism, the Upanishads transcend them and soar to the highest realms of metaphysical speculation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt; ] -ef]No"d\&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;@&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;k[=%#!_ .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;cGtdf, dfly p4[t oL k+lStx?nfO{ g]kfnLdf cg'jfb u/L kf7sx?nfO{ kl:sg g;s]sf]df d]/f] cfkm\g} ;Lldt 1fg / of]Uotfsf] s;L :jLsfb}{ kf7sx?;fd' Ifdf rfxG5' .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;cGtdf,&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;dnfO{ nfU5, ]a|fx\d0f ] u|Gyx?sf] cfwf/df cfh klg o1ofu, kl08tjfb, k'/]tjfb / sd{sf08nfO{ k|fyldstf lbg] h'g&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;;+:sf/ / k|j[lQ b]lvG5, To;}sf] lj/f]wdf &lt;i&gt;pklgifb\&lt;/i&gt; x? 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@ j6f, &lt;i&gt;;fdj]b&lt;/i&gt; / &lt;i&gt;oh'j]{b&lt;/i&gt; nfO{{ klg &lt;i&gt;CUj]b&lt;/i&gt; s} ljleGGf :j?k dfq 7flgg] ePsfn] jf:tljs &lt;i&gt;j]b&lt;/i&gt; r}+ s]jn ToxL Pp6f, &lt;i&gt;CUj]b&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;,&lt;/b&gt; dfq ePsf] wf/0ff w]/} cl3b]lv k|rlnt lyof] / cem&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;klg 5&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;t/ &lt;i&gt;CUj]b&lt;/i&gt; s} /rgf klg slxn] ePsf] lyof] eGg] ljifodf hfgsf/x?dfem Ps dt xDd]l; kfO+b}g . 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If]q ;fob ckjfb lyPg xf]nf . Tof]afx]s ls/ftx?;+u} k/fk"j{ sfnb]lv l5d]ssf ?kdf a;f]af; ub}{ cfPsf v;x?sf] If]qnfO{ &lt;i&gt;:j0f{e"ld&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;klg elGfYof] elgPsfn] klg To:tf] c8snnfO{ yk an lbG5 eGg] dnfO{ nfU5 . ;fy} lxdfnL e]sdf kfOg gj/Tgdf ;dfj]z ul/Psf d"Nojfg kTy/x?dWo] sR5, s'Gbd's'Gb, gGb, va{, ds/, lgnd, z+v, kb\d/fu, dxfkb\d, cflbsf] ;Gbe{ cfPsf] klg kfOG5 . oLdWo] s'Gbd's'GbnfO{&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;{ s|dzM ;kmfo/ / ?aL eg]/ klg cYof{OPsf] 5 .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;dfly oIf/fhsf] ?kdf jl0f{t s'a]/sf K|fhfx?dWo] oIfoIfLx? Klxnf] k+lStdf cfp+5g\ eGg] c8sn klg cgf}7f] ePg . 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To;}n] klg xf]nf, pgsf] :joDa/df xfgyfk / xf]8 ug]{x?df an/fd / s[i0fnufot s0f{, b|f]0f / kf+r} kf08jx? ePsf j0f{g kfOG5 .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;t/ ;fy} pgL cf}lw O{iofn' lyOg\ / ch'{gsL csL{ kTgL ;'eb|fsf] a9L g} 8fx uly{g\ eGg] klg kfOG5 . ;f}tf;f}tfdf kfOg] l/;O{aLsf] l:yltnfO{ t :jfefljs ?kdf lng;lsG5 . t/ pgnfO{ t /f};] :jefj / v's'nf] rl/qsL klg elgPsf] kfOG5 . pbfx/0f:j?k, Ps 7fp+ pgL / ;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;'eb|f&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt; ;+u;+u} a;]/ dlb/f lkO{ n6\7 k/]sf] j0f{g 5 eg], hfts syfx?df pgL Pshgf bf; lszf]/;+u ;Ns]sL lYfOg\ eGG]f klg k9\g kfOG5 . kf+r} kf08jx?sL ;femf kTgL aGg t pgnfO{ To; a]nfsf] ;fdflhs ;+:sf/ / k/Dk/fn] klg 5"6 lbPsf] jf jfWo kf/]sf] xf]nf . To; lax]kl5 pgn] h]7f nf]Ug] o'lwli7/af6 k|ltljGWo, dflxnf] nf]Ug] eLdaf6 &gt;'t;f]d, ;flx+nf]af6 &gt;'tsLlt{, sflx+nf]af6 ztflgs / sfG5faf6 &gt;'tsd{0fnfO{ hGd lbPsL lyOg\ . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;dnfO{ cem cgf}7f] nfu]sf], egf}+ …ckrÚ g} ePsf], ljifo r}+ cs}{ 5 . kf08jx?n] pgnfO{ lnP/ cfp+bf s'GtLnfO{ 6f8}af6 s/fP/ ;'gfPsf lyP /], …cfdf, xfdLn] cfh Pp6f uxlsnf] pkxf/ lnP/ cfPsf 5f}+ . ]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;…l7s} 5, h] NofPsf xf}, kf+r} efOn] af+9]/ lng"Ú eGg] pQ/ cfdfn] lbOg\ /], / cfdfsf] cfb]z gsf6\g] …dft[eStÚ 5f]/fx? ePsfn] kf08jx?n] pgnfO{ ;xkTgLsf] ?kdf :jLsf/]sf lyP eGg] s'/f r}+ s]6fs]6Ln] klg gkTofpg] h:tf] ePg / &lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;cfkm\gf 5f]/fx? :joDa/ h:tf] dxTjk"0f{ ;df/f]xdf ;dfj]z x'g uPsf;d]t cfdfnfO{ yfxf jf jf:tf gx'g', 5f]/fx?n] NofPsf&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]pkxf/ ] s]s:tf] /x]5 eg]/ x]g]{;Dd klg pT;fx / OR5f gx'g', x]b}{ gx]/L&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]af+9]/ n]pm ] eGg] cfb]z lbg'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;5f]/fx?df klg cfkm'n] lht]/ NofPsL kTgLnfO{ PskN6;Dd cfdfsf] bz{g u/fpg] ;d]t h+fu/ / pT;fx gb]lvg' / slQ gcGsgfO{ cfdfsf]&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]cfb]z ] kfng ug{ tlD;g', h:tf s'/fx? 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To:tf] nfhdbf]{ / h3Go ck/fwnfO{ ;d]t xNsf / v]nf+rL h:tf] ?kdf lng;Sg] pgL / pgn] eg]s} e/df To:tf] bf]ifL hob|ynfO{ pDsglbg] kf08jx?nfO{&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;…pbf/lbn ]sf] ;+1f lbg t ;lsPnf, t/ s] jf:tljs hLjgdf Tolt ;lhn} lng klg ;lsG5 t &lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;cGTodf, lj/f6\ /fhfsf] b/jf/df kf08jx? u'Ktjf; a;]sf avt ePsf] lsRrs sf08 nufot c? ;dodf klg b|f}kbLs} sf/0fn] ubf{ pgsf nf]Ug]x?n] w]/} em}emd]nf laxf]/]sf syf cfp+5g\ . c? t c?, s'?If]qsf] n8fO+kl5 kf08jx?n] ;+;f/} Tofu]/ …:ju{Ú lt/ hfgnfUbf klg b|f}kbL xQkQ hfg gdfg]sL / s/} nfu]/ dfq nf]Ug]x?sf] kl5 nfu]sLdf klg pgsf] …cfbz{ rl/qÚ g} emlNsG5 eGg;Sg] l:ylt /xG5 h:tf] dnfO{ r}+ sd;]sd nfUb}g .===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;a|x\df&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;xfd|f] afx'g ;dfhdf cfkm'nfO{ a|x\dfhLsf ;Gtfg xf}+ egL uj{ ug]{ rng 5 . t/ To;/L uf}/j dfGgsf] ;f6f], dnfO t nfU5, xfdLn] nfhn] d'G6f] lgx'/fpg' kf] plrt xf]nf ls &lt;&gt;lxGb' lyof] EfGg]x?nfO{ :jod\ &lt;i&gt;j]b&lt;/i&gt; x?n] g} nf]Kkf VjfOlbPsf 5g\, lsgeg] ltgn] sxL+ klg a|x\dfnfO{ dxTj lbPs} 5}gg\ . cyf{t\ ltgtfs a|x\df Ps nf]slk|o b]jtfsf] ?kdf b]vfk/]sf xfdL st} klg kfp+b}gf}+ . cfh ltgs} tyfslyt :fGtfg, cyf{t\ xfdL cfkm}+, n] klg lzj / lji0f'sf] bf+hf]df g t a|x\dfnfO{ k|fyldstf lbG5f}+, g t d7dlG/ g} agfp+5f}+ .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;Kf}f/fl0fs sfndf cfP/ dfq a|x\dfnfO{ &lt;i&gt;;[li6stf{&lt;/i&gt; t dflgPsf] 5, t/ pgL :Jfod\nfO{ g} lji0f'sf] gfO6f]af6 pTklQ ePsf b]vfP/ pgsf ;[li6stf{ g} lji0f' ePsf k|dfl0ft ul/Psf] 5}g / &lt;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;tL rf/j6f d'v jf cg'xf/} klg s;/L eP &lt;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;cem cfZro{sf] csf]{ ljifo t s] eg], s;};+u of}g;DaGw g/fvL lrtfPsf] jf OR5fPs} e/df Psflt/ ;gts'df/, :sGb, ;gs / ;gftg h:tf dfg;k'q hGdfpg;Sg] ltgL lyP eg] lsg kfj{tL, ;/:jtL / ;t?kf;+u Jolerf/ ug{af6 klg kl5 gx6]sf xf]nfg\ &lt;&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt; 5f]8]sfdf gf}nf] s'/f g} s] eof] / &lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;Tolt dfq klg xf]Og . PskN6 pgL Ps wfld{s sfo{ ug{ nfu]sf lyP /], h;df ;/:jtL &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;-kTgL_sf] pkl:ylt clgjfo{ lyof] /] . t/ ;/:jtL sxL+ uPsL /lx5g\ / km]nf gk/]kl5 pgsf] ;f6f] ufoqLnfO{ g} &lt;i&gt;j}slNks kTgL &lt;/i&gt;agfP/ ;f] wflds sfo{ k"/f u/]sf lyP /] eGg] syf klg 5 . ufoqLsf] csf]{ gfd ;fljlq lyof] klg elgG5 . t/ xfdL afx'g5]qLn] cfkm\gf wfld{s dGqx?df ;a}eGbf jx'd"No dfg]/ lbgxf}+ hk ug}{kg]{ elgPsf] ufoqLdGq t ;/:jtLsL ltg} ;f}tfsf] gfddf kf] /lrPsf] /x]5 . oxL xf:of:kb ;+of]u yfxf kfPkl5 d}n} ufoqL hKg klg 5f8]+ / hg} nfpg klg .=== &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;o;sf] csf]{ /dfOnf] kIf r}+ s] 5 eg], cfkm'dfly ;f}tf xfn]sf] l/;df ;/:jtLn] eljiodf a|x\dfsf] k'hf gxf];\ eGg] &gt;fk klg lbPsL /lx5g\ . To;}n] pgsf] dlGb/ st} klg b]Vg gkfOPsf] /] .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;cGTodf, &lt;i&gt;j]b&lt;/i&gt; h:tf k|frLg u|Gydf k|hfkltnfO{ ;[li6stf{ dflgPsf] 5 . t/ ;of}+ jif{kl5 /lrPsf kf}/fl0fs u|Gyn] r}+ PSsfO; k|hfkltx? ePsf / tL ;a} a|x\dfsf dfg;k'q dflgPsf b]lvg' klg Pp6f la8Dagf dfq xf]Og, Ps csf{;+u aflemPsf] klg k|:6 b]lvG5 . ltg} k|hfkltx?dWo] klg &lt;i&gt;dxfef/t&lt;/i&gt; n]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;r}+ bzhgfnfO{ dfq ljz]if dfGotf lbPsf] kfOg' klg csf]{ la8Dagf xf] eG7fG5' d .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;a|Dxfsf] o:tf] lu/]sf] / gLr rl/qaf/] s]xL k9]kl5 cfkm}nfO{ pgsf] ;Gtfg dfGg] t s'/} /x]g, pN6f] cfk\mgf gftfuf]tfn] dfg]sf] b]Vtf d :jod\nfO{ cem klg cfTdUnflgn] lk/]fln/xG5 . s]jn Ps lemgf] :fGTjgf r}+ s] nfU5 eg], vf; u/L kf}/fl0fs syfx? P]lxfl;s geO{ s]jn sfNklgs / dgu8Gt] x'g\ / ltgdf ;TotYo s]xL 5}gg\ klg . ;To gePs} a];===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;dg'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 22pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 22pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;xfd|f j}lbssfnLg k'/vfx?sf pbf/ ;dfh Joj:yf / /Lltlyltx?nfO{ dg' Clifkl5 l5/fOPsf n}+lus c;dfgtf / hftkftaLrsf e]befjhlgt ;+sL0f{tf;+u bf+Hg] xf] eg] tL Pscfk;df k6Ss d]n vf+b}gg\ eGg] s'/f d}n] o;cl3 klg s]xL lgaGwx?df elg;s]sf] eP tfklg oxf+ km]l/ PskN6 p7fg ug{ rfxG5' .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;d s'g} ;dodf sfg"gsf]] ljBfyL{ lyP+ . xfdLnfO{ k9fOg] ljifox?dWo] lxGb' P]gsfg"g -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Hindu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Law&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;_ klg Pp6f lyof] . tL lxGb' ljlwljwfgsf k|0f]tfx?df w]/}h;f] dg'Clifs} gfd cfp+Yof] . d t Ps afx'g klg, Tof]dfly cft]kft] ug]{ kl/jf/s} aRRf]f ePsfn] dg'Clif -x?_ af/]sf lgs} s'/f s]6fs]6L pd]/d} klg yfxf kfO/fv]sf] lyP+ . h:t} :joDe"j dg', pQd dg' , td;f dg', j}jZjt dg', cflb . xfdLNffO{ l;sfOPsfdWo] :joDe"j dg' ;a}eGbf k|frLg lyP, Ps k|sf/n] b]jt} lyP / &lt;i&gt;dg':d[lt, dg';+lxtf, &lt;/i&gt;cflbsf /rlotf klg . ltg} u|Gyx?sf] cfwf/df xfd|f] ;dfhsf] ;+/rgf ePsf] 5 eGg] kf7 g} cfh klg xfd|f kl08tk'/]tx?n] cfkm\gf&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]hhdfg ]x?nfO{ k9fpg] u/]s} xf]nfg\ eG7fG5' .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;t/ sfg"g cWoogsf] s|ddf s] gof+ s'/f yfxf eof] eg], xfdLNffO{ s]6fs]6Ldf k9fOPsf w]/} kf7x? unt /x]5g\ . h:t} …eujfg ] elgPsf ljZjDe'j dg' / lxGb' ljlwljwfgsf k|0f]tf -cyf{t\ &lt;i&gt;dg':d[lt&lt;/i&gt; sf /rgfsf/_ a]Unf a}Un} JolSt /x]5g\ . oL bf];|f dg' r}+ O{=k"= ^)) b]lv O{=;g\ #)) ;fnsf dfemdf hGd]sf, s'g} Pp6f /fhkl/jf/;Fu ;DalGwt, 5]qLj+zLo JolSt /x]5g\ . pgaf6 /lrPsf] pSt lxGb' sfg"gnfO{{ ljZjDe'j dg' -cyf{t\ dfgjsf tyfslyt ;[li6stf{_ ;+u of t c1fgtfjz, gq &lt;i&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;dg':d[lt&lt;/i&gt; nfO{ b}jL jf O{Zj/Lo ?k lbg] cfzon] k]|l/t eP/, hf]8\g] ul/Psf] kf] /x]5 .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;Oltxf;sf ljBfyL{nfO{ k|foM yfxf 5, O{=k"= % jf ^ ;o jif{ eg]sf] df}o{sfn / u|L;sf /fhf cn]ShfG8/n] ef/tdfly wfjf af]n]sf aLrsf] ;do xf] , To:t} O{=;g\= # ;o jif{ eg]sf] u'Kt ;fd|fHo :yfkgf ePlt/sf] ;do xf] . o;} sf/0fn] g} xf]nf, &lt;i&gt;dg':d[lt&lt;/i&gt; sf] bzf}+ cWofodf ojg -u|Ls_ x?, zs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;-l;lbog_ x? / kNxj -kmf/;L_ x?sf] ;Gbe{ hf]l8g uPsf] . clg o;}af6 c8sn ug{;lsG5, &lt;i&gt;dg':d[lt&lt;/i&gt; sf /rgfsf/nfO{ dg':joDe'j;+u hf]l8Psf], pgn] klxnf]rf]l6 Clif e[u'nfO{ l6kfp+bf To;df Ps nfv Znf]s lyP, gf/b Clifn] To;nfO{ 5f]6\ofP/ afx| xhf/ Znf]ssf / dfs{08]o Clifn] cem 5f]6\ofP/ cf7 xhf/ Znf]ssf] kf/]sf lyP eGg] s'/f s]jn dgu8Gt] sNkgf dfq /x]5g\ . jf:tjdf cfh xfdLn] b]VgkfPsf &lt;i&gt;dg':d[lt&lt;/i&gt; df @^*% Znf]s dfq 5g\ / ltgnfO{ !@ v08df k]z ul/Psf] 5 . a;\ .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;;f/f+zdf s] eGg;lsG5 eg], kmf/;L / u|Lsx?n] tTsfnLg lxGb' ;+:s[lt / ;dfhnfO{ layf]Ng yfn]kl5 a|fDx0fx?sf] k|e'Tj / jr{:jnfO{ km]l/ :yflkt ug]{, ljb]zLx?n] ;dfhnfO{ gla6'Nofpmg\ eg]/ hfteft / 5'jf5't h:tf k|yfnfO{ …b}ljs ] jf&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;]j}lbs ] k|dfl0ft ug]{ tyf To:tf e]befjnfO{ j}wtf k|bfg ug]{, cflb ;+sL0f{tfsf] b;L dfq /x]5 &lt;i&gt;dg':d[lt&lt;/i&gt; . t/ cfh t u|Lsh:tf ljb]zLx?sf] huhuLaf6 xfd|f] ;dfhnfO{ arfpg'kg]{ v08 klg 5}g, g t &lt;i&gt;dg':d[lt&lt;/i&gt; h:tf /rgfx?sf] g} pkfb]otf 5 .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;…3'Db}}lkmb}{ ?Dh}6f/ ] eg] em}+ s] dfq oxf+ yKg dg nfu]sf] 5 eg], cfhsf] lxGb' ;dfhnfO{ cfs|fGt ul//x]sf] n}+lus jf hftju{sf] c;dfgtf dflg;n] g} :jfy{k|]l/t eP/ ;[hgf u/]sf 5]saf/x? x'g\, s'g} b]jbjtfn] xf]Ogg\ . / ha;Dd xfdL cfkm}+n] oL c;dfgtf / ljs[ltx?nfO{ lgld6\ofGg kfg{;St}gf}+, ta ;Dd k|hftGq xf];\ jf nf]stGq, cyjf u0ftGq g} ls gxf];\, s'g}sf] klg jf:tljs / tflTjs cy{ /xg]5}g===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;/fj0f&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;cfh km]l/ d]/f] Ps @% jif{eGbfcl3sf] Ps lgaGWf, &lt;i&gt;d]/f] /fdfo0f&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt; Ps 6|]h]8L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt; sf] ;Demgf ug]{ v08 cfof] . To;df /fj0faf/]sf d]/f w]/}h;f] wf/0ffx? Kl/;s]s} 5g\ . To;}n] s]xL ykyfk] k|;+u dfq oxf+ /fVg nfu]sf] 5' .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;/fj0fsf afa' lj&gt;jf -Clif_ lyP, afh] Clif k'n:To / lhh'afh] a|x\df . To;}n] /fj0f klg vf+6L afx'g . elgG5, a|x\dfs} k|tfkn] pgn] :ju{dfly dfq sAhf hdfPgg\, OGb|nufot clUg, lzj, od, cflb w]/}hgfnfO{ ks|]/ n+sfdf NofO{ ljleGGf sfddf hf]t]sf klg lyP .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;/fj0fsf] lgwgsf af/]df r}+ j}i0fj / z}jx?n] cfkmcfkm}nfO{ ldNg] lsl;dn] JofVof u/]sf 5g\ . j}i0fjx? eG5g\, /fj0fsf] a9\bf] k/fs|daf6 t;]{sf b]jtfx? lji0f'sf] z/0fdf uP/ /fj0fsf] ;+xf/ ug{ lalGt r9fP . lji0f'sf] pQ/ lyof], /fj0fnfO{ dfg{;Sg] b]jtfx? hGd]s} 5}gg\, t/ Pp6L gf/Lsf] sf/0fn] p;n] cfkm\g' d/0f cfkm}+ lgDTofpg]5 . Tof] sfd kmQ] ug{ pgL cfkm}+ klg /fdsf] cjtf/ lnP/ k[YjLdf cjt/0f ug]{5g\, cflb .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;ptf z}jx?sf] syfdf elgPsf] 5, lzjsf] bz{g ug{ uPsf /fj0fsf] af6f] gGbLZj/ gfds Pp6f afpGg]] -;f+9] &lt;_&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;?af6 x'g] eljiojf0fL u/]5g\ .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/328239628412683855-3149133664635403922?l=nepalicreation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/feeds/3149133664635403922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=328239628412683855&amp;postID=3149133664635403922' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3149133664635403922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/328239628412683855/posts/default/3149133664635403922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nepalicreation.blogspot.com/2008/02/short-eassys-by-nagendra-sharma.html' title='Short  Eassys  by Nagendra Sharma'/><author><name>Sarad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15908295001939779488</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328239628412683855.post-1675670578931082422</id><published>2007-10-08T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T00:08:10.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Samples of a  Trend-Nepali Short Stories</title><content type='html'>&lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                            &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Sweater for &lt;i&gt;Bhinaaju*&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Poshan Pandey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sabita wa almost dancing with joy as she came to her elder sister, Shanti. "Didi, oh Didi, &lt;i&gt;Bhinaaju&lt;/i&gt; asks if we would like to go to the movies?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"No. Tell him I'm not going", replied Shanti quietly. but her voice was harsh and severe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sabita, hon-plusse, stood there awhile. What a dull person her elder sister is, thought she. So indefferent to fun. How much elder to herself she is, anyway? Just by about five yeas. Sabita left, almost mentally cursing her elder sister's foolishness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;But Sabita hadn't gone very far when Shanti called her back and asked, "Did you rrequest me on your own initiative, or did he himself send you?" Shanti put on a more playful appearance as she asked this question.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sabita was puzzled. She knelt down, toyed with her sister's plait of hair and, in a voice matching her playful nature, said, "I was in the garden basking in the sun. Bhinaaju came and asked if I would like to go to the movies. I said I would ask you and reply. So here I am to aske you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Shanti's face fell. Exactly like a monring dew-drop, sparkling on the blade of a Dubo grass, falls when it comes in contact with a light breeze. But she didn't appear cross this time. She simply said, "I'll go."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Really, didi?" - Sabita's exuberance burst like a cascading stream. Her face clearly showed her feelings. Shanti, on her part,had a lingering doubt deep inside, a knot she wasn't in a position to unfasten. Time and again she tried to dispel if, but it kept on pestering and nagging her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sabita had come to stay at her elder sister's place for some months now. The two had been great chums since childhood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color windowtext; border-width: medium medium 1.5pt; padding: 0in 0in 1pt; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-right: 0in;"&gt; &lt;h4 style="border: medium none ; margin: 0in 0in 12pt; padding: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Even now, Shanti felt like fondling and kissing her for her childish nature and liveliness! Sabita was still fond of children's games like blind-man's-buff or hide-and-seek. Her gait and childlike behaviour had remained unchanged, but, without herself realising it, she was entering adulthood. Shanti, on her part, was no longer fond of childhood games.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;*&lt;i&gt;Bhinaaju&lt;/i&gt; in Nepali means the husband of one's elder sister (&lt;i&gt;Didi&lt;/i&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Even as, sometimes, nostalgia propmted her to play such games, whe was too bashful and self-conscious to enjoy them. Her nature was indeed different from her younger sister's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;One thing that worried Shanti most was her inability to keep her husband happy all these days.Whenever Sabita would stat praising him or telling her how nice he was, Shanti felt strongly wounded at heart, strangely jealous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;But she used to say nothing to har younger sister despite that a web, like that of a spider, semingly kept on weaving itself in the darkness of her mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;One day, Shanti was at the balcony combing her hair. A small mirror lay in front of her. Looking at her face as reflected in the mirror, she suddenly felt that she had grown old. Strands of hair kept falling off as she combed, and her face was flecked with dandruff. She hurriedly powdered her face till turned white as snow. At the moment Sabita arrived, her large eyes beautiful with mascara. She was wearing soft white cotton pyjamas with a top of embroidered silk to match. Her face reembled a rose-blossom and her figure was full and shapely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Look, didi, your hair has been going grey - here," said Sabita as she pulled out a strand from out of her sister's lock and place it on Sabita's palm, "how come?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Shanti looked at Sabita's hair, at har hands and feet, and her entire form and figure, but she could not find anything to place on Sabita's palm. "Oh, yes…," she said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Bhinaaju&lt;/i&gt; is coming, " said Sabita gleefully. As Gopinath approached them, she added in a flirtatious tone, "&lt;i&gt;Bhinaaju&lt;/i&gt;, sister's hair has gone grey. Do buy her a bottle of hair-darkener, won't you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Shanti didn't like her sister's sympathetic tone one bit. Furious, she looked at har husban, whose eyes were fixed oddly at Sabita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I will buy her a bottle for her at the fun-fair tomorrow," said he.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The atmosphere at the fun-fair was suffocating. Milling crowds jampacke everywhere, leaving no room even to blink. They saw a merry-go-round whirling at one place. Sabita wanted a ride and Gopinath bought the tickets. But Shanti refused, even as Sabita egged her on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Let's go, didi, why not? It's just for this once, anyway. Oh, what's erong with you?...It's a pity you aren't interested in anything."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"You go, Bhinaaju will keep your company, won't he? I'm feeling sliightly faint so I would rather sit here for a while."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Leave her alone, why force someone who is feeling faint?" -Gopinath put in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;A couple of tear-drops rolled down Shan's face without anyine noticing them. She wiped her eyes dry and leaned against a bamboo pole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The ferry's wheel whirled round, Gopinath and Sabita going around with it.Shanti couldn't keep on watching them for long. This time she really felt giddy. She removed her glance and walked away with a weary frown on her face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;In a particularly large crowd gatehred at one place, Shanti got waylaid, lost. She looked around for Gopinath and Sabita with searching eyes. but didn't see them. Her lips wee dry with anxiety. Sitting on a bench outside a shop, she peered into every face that passed by. The cruel footsteps of Time trampled upon her and she started imagining things. Her imagination ren so wild, in fact, that it made her burn with jealousy and a feeling of revenge. Her eyes had no tears now but were blood-shot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"There…, my elder sister is sitting pretty here while we were looking for her all over the place…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Irritated, Shanti looked up at them. Both of them looked visibly flushed with excitement. Sabita thrust her hand inside her shopping bag as she said,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Look ! Here is the hair-darkener Bhinaaju has bought for you. He has also purchased some knittint wool for me, besides cream and face-powder. We will have a better look at them once we are back home, alright?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Okay," replied Shanti as she looked strangely at her husband, "Haven't you had enough? Let's go."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Right, let's go," said Gopinath,, "we're already much too late."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;On their way home, Sabita showed the knitting wool to Shanti and said,"Shall I knit a sweater with this wool, for Bhinaaju?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Why ask me ? Better as the person for whom you want to knit." …There was a distinct resentment in Shanti's response. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sabita got so engrossed during the folowing daya in knittingg, she couldn't even keep track of days going by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;As the sweater gradually took shape, her sense of success and satisfction made her face glow more and more brigthly.She often held up the sweater in ront of her to examine it and was partivularly delighted with its embroidered flower -design. One day, as usual, she was going to her Bhinaaju to measure it with him, when she met Shanti on the stairs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Just have a look, sister! It's almost complete. I wanted to check if its fits hia shoulders, for I presume it's a bit too tight at the armpits. How do yu like it? Do you think it will look nice on him? It will, won't it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sabita spoke these words as if she had little patience for anything else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Shanti put on amake-believe smile and swallowed hard before she replied. 'I don't think this flowe-motif looks good in a man's sweater, they'd look better on woman. Better give it to me and I shall knit another one for him."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Bah…what a joke? After all my hard labour for my Bhinaaju?" - retorted Sabita, as she laughed her way into brother-in-law's room, completely ignoring her elder sister's comment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Shanti, who had spent many a sleepless night in an effort to fight-off her suspicions, found that they were now getting the better of her on seeing Sabita go to her Bhinaaju's room, everyday, on the pretext of measuring him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Shanti couldn't sleep that night either. She got up three or four times to drink water. She looked at the clock - it was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;2.30 a.m.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; At last, she got up abruptly in the pin-drop silence of the night and went to Sabita's bedside. Sabita's breath of warm contentment slmost scalded her. It was as if Sabita alone was responsible for robbing her of her sleep. Her mood hardened dramatically and her nails almost reached Sabita's throat. But the unusual mood didn't last long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;shanti's attention was drawn towards the sweater that was hanging from undeneath Sabita's pillow. She pulled it out slowly and saw that the front and back portions only remained to be sewn together. It would probably be finished by the next evening, guessed Shanti. For, Sabita's obsession with this work could only suggest some kind of a vow akin to a completer absorption - a powerful drive that hadn't even wearied her person, but had, on the contrarty, added to her agility and vigour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Tomorrow, thought Shanti, when Gopinath would put the sweater on, she would lose all her rights as a wife in this house. Gopinath would be do enamoured with the sweater's comforting warmth, that he wouldn't want to take it off. She was sure, too, that she would lose her peace of mind as long as the remained on his body. Shanti also had a feeling that a curtain was rising on a dreadful drama, and that the sound of the warning bell which prwceded its commencement was rgrowing a cold shiver down her entire person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;And this premonition brought all her hopes and dreams to a point of no return. She held the sweater tight in her hands. Prevention is better than cure, they say, and why shouldn't she burn the sweater to ashes before it reached Gopinath, particularly now that it was completely at he mercy? But her feeling towards Sabita caused her jealousy to take another form and it got diverted&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;towards the sweater. Slowly and radually, she started loosening the threads. Very soon, this process of unravelling the sweater increased so much in speed that it was as if a fast machine was unpicking the threads, and the loose wool grew into a huge pile beside her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;But in her hurry to complete the process, her hand accidentally struck against Sabita's back. Sabita woke up eitha start. She looked af her elder sister in utter amazement, then asked in a faint voice trembling with fear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"What's wrong, Didi? Why are you tearing it off?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Shanti stopped halfway. "This is not the kind of sweater to suit your Bhinaaju", she said with a cool determination, "I shall knit another one for him…? Sabita's face grew red. "But it's not the one meant for Bhinaaju," she blurted out,"it's the one which I am knitting for you! His sweater was completed yesterday itself and I gave it to him already. He even went to bed with it and is wearing it right now. You go and see how nice it looks on him"!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;[Courtesy: &lt;i&gt;Sheet of Snow&lt;/i&gt;, an anthology of sixteen Nepali short stories translated into English by Nagendra Sharma and published by Nirala Publications, Jaipur and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;New Delhi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;,1997.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                           &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;A Train Journey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;                            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Deo Kumari Thapa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The Bombay Mail was speeding sull-steam ahead. There were only two passsengers in the compartment - a middle-aged man and myself. He was kind of stupid as as as I could assess from his behaviour. He had stretched himself full-length and was reading a book. The tain passed throufh so many stations by he didn't even bother to look out of the window.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I also took out a magazine and started reading it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The dusk turned into night. The waiter came, served dinner and left. We started eating. Even then he didn't utter a word. "It's such a long journey - and I have sudh a demb fellow as my co-passenger", I mused. I could stand it no longer, and broke the ice myself, "How far would you be travelling?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Bombay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;', was his cryptic reply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"So am I", I repliedsomewhat delightedly. But he showed no interest. What a taciturn fellow! The waite came again at the next station, collected the dishes and left. He didn't have a word with the waiter either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;After the waiter had left, he took out a pacjet of cigarettes from his pocket and asked, "May I smole?" I nodded consent and he started puffing-up. Quite a gew puffs later he looked at me and asked, "Don't you, as a woman, feel scared to travel in a first-class compartment all by yourself?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"What's there to be scared of?" - Iasked, surprised. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Oh yes, why should you be afraid of?" - he said, his tone seemingly sarcastic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I was warming up with rage, and shot back, "You ara an uncivil person; why don't you travel by a goods train?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;He ler out a guffaw, but calmed himself and said in a grave tone, "I hate womenkind. They look so pathetic and gentle, but how wicked they can be!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Why should women look pitiable? They work in offices, drive&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;vehicles and run businesses, don't they?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Ho-ho," he laughed again and said,"you are more like a man, so unabashed."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I feel insulted," I replied, assuming a grave tone. He laughed all the more loudly. His hard facial features seeeme to soften a bit an a faint good-humour replace hi earlier sullenness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;"Why are you going to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Bombay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;?" - he asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"To undergo a training in family planning," I replied. This time he didn't taunt me, but asked, "Whaat community do you belong to?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Nepali."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;He didn't speak after that, but kept on puffing a his cigarrette. I went to bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Next morning, I washed up and had begun reciting the holy &lt;i&gt;Geeta&lt;/i&gt;. He asked, "What are you reading?" I showed him the &lt;i&gt;Geeta&lt;/i&gt;. "H'm," he grunted with a perceptible sigh of deprecation. I ignored him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Lunch over, he asked, "You read the &lt;i&gt;Geeta&lt;/i&gt; everyday?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Yes I do."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Why?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"To attain a peace of mind."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;He kept quiet. When &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Bombay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; was some two hours away, he looked at the handbag where I had put my &lt;i&gt;Geeta&lt;/i&gt; and said,"Women who recite the &lt;i&gt;Geeta&lt;/i&gt; in the presence of other people tend to be cunning."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;I didn't reply. His facial features hardened again, as he said,"We're about to reach &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Bombay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;. We do not know each other and I don't intend introducing myself either. We may not even meet again, anytime. Hence I would like to tell you about 'that' woman."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Go ahead, if that gives you a mental relief." He smiled wanly and said, "You are indeed a peculiar kind of person. Don't you feel inclined to hear my story?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;No. Your story couldn't be different from the same old ones. You may have been jilted by some woman and you want to lump all women into the same category. This is impudence. Isn't your mother a woman too?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;He was really angry now. His eyes reddened visibly. Almost incoherently, he said, "Yes. my metal&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;agony has doubled precisely because even y mother turned out to be like that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I was dumbfounded. It wa so vey unexpected. I was even terrified by his menacing features. He was mumbling to himself, "I had everything till six months ago. A goddess-like mother, a scholarly father, wealth and respectability - everything a mand needs. But then, all that crumbled so suddenly. My darling father was killed in a car accident six months ago. I was shocked to the extrreme. But I decided to bear it out and vowed to keep my mother happy. I took leave from my college so as to take my mother on pilgrimage to Hardwar, Vrindaban and the like. I didn't leave her alone even on our way back home. She fell ill about a month ago and I called our family doctor. He advised that she be immediately be admitted to a hospital. She had to undergo a surgery there. I kept vigil outside her cabin without even a wink of sleep. When she came to at the dead of night, I approached the attending nurse for permission to go into the cabin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Didn't you father come?" - asked the nurse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Have you any eyes or no?" - I shot back in anger. "Didn't you notice that she is wearing a eidow's attire?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The nurse also got angry. "Why do you shout at me? How do I know that a widow can have an abortion?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;She may have felt relieved at her curt reply. But I felt as if the heavens had broken loose on me. I couldn't help squatting flat on the floor that very instant. Since then I haven't even seen my mother's face and have been aimlessly wandering in this manner."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;He kept quiet for a while and then added, "All my hairs have suddenly gone grey, but do you&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;know I'm only 23 years old?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I was aghast. I had taken him to be a middle-aged man. He contihued, "I have not ralated this to you, an unknown woman, in the hope of eliciting any sympathy. If I do not blech out this poison from my person, my entire system will be engulfed by this venom. I can't even relate it to someone who is familiar. More, you seem to give me a faint impresion of herself - I had heard that Nepalis are a simple people, but I couldn't bear the sight of your reciting the Geeta. All women are deceitful"… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I could not counter him, but felt sorry for him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;On reaching &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Bombay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;, he didn't even take leave of me, but vanished like a drop in the sea of human heads…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;[Courtesy: &lt;i&gt;Sheet of Snow&lt;/i&gt;, an anthology of sixteen Nepali short stories translated into English by Nagendra Sharma and published by Nirala Publications, Jaipur and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;New Delhi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;,1997.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;The Gift of a Child&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                           &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                    &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Lal Bahadur Basnet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The Compartment became empty as the train&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;reached Agra. All passengers seemed to have come to visit the Taj Mahal. Further on, upto Gwalior, I should be the reigning onarch of this compartment, I thought with great delight. The engine blew its whistle to signify resumption of journey. Suddenly the door opened and in walked a long-haired person in white. He held a small suitcase in one hand and a handbag in anothr. Calm and dignified, his appearance resembled that of a renunciate, except for his white apparel instead of the usual saffron. So he was not &lt;i&gt;Yogi&lt;/i&gt;. Nor did he look like a &lt;i&gt;Swetambar&lt;/i&gt; (white-robed) Jain priest. While I was trying to place him as to who he could be, the addressed me in chaste English.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" I hope I didn't disturb you!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;"Not at all," I replied, also in English. "Rather I should, in my capacity as the earlier occupant of the compartment, extend a warm welcome to you. I was alone in the entire compartment. Please be seated."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The next stop, Gwalior, was a two-and-a-half hour non-srop run. This distance would be easily covered with this impressive person, I thought. After all, life itself is a kind&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;journey. We meet someone en-route, get separated from others…As the train caught up speed, the silence inside the compartment was broken as he suddenly said, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"It gives me great pleasure to watch a countenance all aglow with true happiness."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Toying with the book in my hand, I said, "Are you a psychiatrist?" I smiled and added, "Yes, there is a special reason for me to be happy. But is my inner thought so visible to everyone?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"One does not have to bee the sun's rays to feel its warmth. And what's wrong in being happy? Engrossed as most people are in the stuggle for survival and livelihood, it is rare to come across persons who exude happiness, as is evident in your countenance. You are young and healthy. It is but natural that you should be in a pleasant frame of mind. But yours is a different kind of happiness - like the ocean surging in a moonlit night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I'm on my way to meet my would-be spouse and members of her family. We have been in love for five years. With the blessings of her parents, we intend to enter into wedlock this year. Now, you tell me, who else could be happier than me today?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Comgratulation, Mr…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Gejendra Roka".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"You're a Gorkha?" He spoke in Nepali, "I too am a Gorkha. Call me Swami Anand."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Oh! so you have renounced the world?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Yes…You had asked me earlier if I was a psychiatrist. The very appearance of a truly happy person is the index of his mind. It's not necessary to be a psychiatrist just to observe that…It's internal pain that is difficult to fathom. For, instance, I am acquainted with a certain person who suffered intolerable mental agony for years on end, but none else had an inkling about his sufferings."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I take your word for it. But my intellect somehow refuses to accept it as wholly true."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I wasn't exaggerating. I'm even prepared to narrate that true story to you, should you not feel bored with it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Bored! oh no! Please go ahead. But I'll be getting down at Gwalior. Kindly narrate the story so that you complete it before the train reaches that station."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"All right," Anand said with a smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"The story starts some twenty years ago. Birendra wa 37 years old at the time. Fair-looking, tall, healthy. He had been married for 13 years. He had a son, Dhirendra, who was then 8, and a daughter Kusum, two years younger than Dhirendra. A small and happy family. But perhaps God is not disposed to see a completely happy human being, for Birendra's wife had been ailing for about four or five years…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"The schools in the hills had closed for winter and his son and daughter had joined him at Siliguri. His wife, Parvati, had stayed behind in Darjeeling for reaons of health.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Every evening Birendra used to go for a walk with Dhirendra and Kusum. Siliguri was then a small, straggling town. One day, they were strolling along the road leading to Hakimpara. On the left side of the road was a small shrine where Bengalee men and women used to offer prayers. The women often outnumbered men. Two Bengalee ladies emerged from the shrine. One was middle-aged while the othe was young. The younger one was fair-complexioned with well-chiselled face and features She could not have been more than 25-26 years of age. She wore gold bangles, a golden chain around the neck and ear-tops. She was dressed in a light cream-coloured &lt;i&gt;saree&lt;/i&gt; and a blouse to match. She had large eyes, a smiling and bright countenance. The vermillion dot on her forehead indicated that she was married.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"While they were some yards apart, her eyes met those of Birendra. Apprehensive that he would appear as an unpolished rustic in the eyes of a lady, Birendra removed his glance away from her face. But the lady stared him all the more intently…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"About a week later, the lady was again seen at the same spot. She was alone that day. She smiled shyly as their eyes met. She moved towards him and said, 'You are from Darjeeling, aren't you?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Yes. But I do not remember having come across you there.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'True, we haven't talked. But I had seen you a number of times in Darjeeling last year. With these same kids. They were smaller. Now they're grown up. How good-looking they are!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Thanks.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Do you mind taking some &lt;i&gt;Prasaada&lt;/i&gt;? This &lt;i&gt;Prasaada&lt;/i&gt; is from the temple of the goddess.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"All three of them&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;- father, son and daughter, partook of the &lt;i&gt;Prasaada&lt;/i&gt;. Birendra then left with the children after thanking her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Their paths used to cross once or twice a week. He used to take the &lt;i&gt;Prasaada&lt;/i&gt; and exchange some words with her. Gradually, their range of conversation expanded. The Bengalee lady turned out to be Malati Sengupta, wife of Gopal Sengupta, a well-known lawyer of Siliguri.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"It was the last week of February. When they met, Malati said, 'I believe it's time for your children to go back to school, isn't it?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Yes. I'm taking them back home in four or five days.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'In that case, I'm not certain when I can see the children next time. Would you please come with me? My house is quite close by. I'm sure my husband will be extremely delighted to meet you and the children. I have told him as much as I have been able to know about you all. In fact, he has more than once asked me to invite you and the children to our place.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Birendra, unable to find a way out of her ardent persuasions, joined Malati on her way home. Advocate Gopal Sengupta was there. A very lively person. He talked to Birendra as if they wee peers. The only thing they were equals was their age. Gopal Sengupta was around 36-37, fair faced, tall and a bit plump, but otherwise a healthy Bengalee gentleman. His first wife had passed away just two or three years after marriage. Malati had been his spouse for six years. They had no kids.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Birendra could feel clearly the gap between his economic and social status and that of the Sengupta family. After partaking of the tea and sweetmeats, he rose to take leave. In his thoughts, he had made up his mind to make it the first and last visit to that house. 'I should quit passing by the temple road too,' he mused. 'This increasing intimacy between unequal people will not last long.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"As if the lawyer had read Birendra's thoughts, he said,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Mr. Birendra, don't you discontinue paying us a visit on your return after dropping your children. I will let you go only if you promise to come again.'&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His puckish expression was genial. There was no formality in it. He was sincere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Thus grew a closeness between Birendra and the Sengupta couple. They used to spend one evening every week together. Gopal and Birendra used to drink whisky, which helped make the conversations more lively and enjoyable. Malati also used to take part in their conversations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Three months had thus passed. One day, Gopal said,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'You haven't had dinner with us all these days. Next Friday evening you will please join us for food and also stay here for the night.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Thank you for your invitation. But I can easily return to my flat after dinner. It's just a matter of a mile and a half.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'That's not the question. I can even send my car to drop you back. But I would urge you to eat and sleep here on that occasion. We shall have all the hours of the night at our disposal. Please treat this as my special request and accept it.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Come Friday. They had a very pleasant evening. Dinner over, Gopal Sengupta said, 'I guess I had a peg too many. I'll retire. Please look after the guest, won't you, Malati?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"It was ten minutes before the midnight hour. Birendra yawned. Time to go to bed. Suddenly, there was a mild knock at the door.'Who's it? Do come in,' he said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Birendra was aghast. His heart missed a beat. There, in front of him, stood Malati. She had freshly bathed and worn a make-up. She must have sprayed a costly perfume on her person as the entire room was engulfed in a pleasant fragrance. She wore a flimsy, light blue night gown over a pettycoat. As the belt of the gown had been loosened, and as her garments were fine and thin, the outline of her buxom bosom, her thighs and legs were prominently outlined&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;against the light of the electric bulb. Malati's sudden presence before him in that manner and at that time of the night stirred his manhood almost uncontrollably. But summing up from the depth of his being his moral strength, he gradually gained self-control over himself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Mrs. Sengupta, why are you here at this hour?' - he said in a hurt tone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;' 'I wanted to talk to you.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Talk to me, at this hour of the night?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'There's something we have to talk about. Let's sit down. Would you go on making me stand here like this? You even forgot to offer me a seat, Biren.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Oh my god! What could it be? Obviously it will be a betrayal of Mr. Sengupta on my part. You want us to take an undue advantage of his good nature and gentlemanly behaviour? I entreat you, Malati, do not drag me into this hell. I shall never be able to forgive myself.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'The question of betrayal doesn't arise, Biren. Or else, I shouldn't have had either the courage or confidence to come here. I'm not a harlot. I'm here with my husband's permission.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Husband's permission?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'My husband's command, in fact. But let's sit down and talk. Should I fail to convince you, I shall return to my room. After all, I haven't assaulted your person physically, have I?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"With this, Malati smiled faintly, turned back and bolted the door from inside. She then came closer to Birendra, held his hands and said, 'Let's sit down,' and sat on the bed. Birendra also pulled a chair and sat nearby, all the time mumbling to himself, 'Come to your senses, O Birendra.' To Malati, he said, 'Go ahead.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Do you recall,' she began after a short pause, 'the topic of discussion you two had two weeks ago?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'I don't. My brain has stopped functioning; you tell me'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'How had Dhritarashtra, Pandu and Bidur been begotten, as per the &lt;i&gt;Mahabharata&lt;/i&gt; epic?' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Oh, that one! They were born out of Vedavyasa's cohabitation with two queens and a maid.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Why?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Because, in those days, tradition permitted an issueless wife to cohabit with another male, subject to her husband's consent, for procreating children with a view to sustain the family tree.. But what has that discussion got to do with us at this moment? ' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'They were, after all, our own ancetors, weren't they? If it was permissible then, it should be permissible now..My husband wants a child. He is unable to procreate children as his sperms are dead. Not that he is impotent. Our sex life is healthy. I don't need to set up a liaison with a third person for mere sexual gratification. This day was also chosen by him. Today is the 14&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; day of my menstrual period. He feels that this is the most opportune day for my being impregnated.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Birendra had no option but to believe her. Perhaps it wan't wholly a question of believing her…after all, which young man could possibly have rejected advances from a young maiden like Malati, at that hour of the night? His eyes blazed with the fire of passion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Do I have your permission?' - Malati asked coyly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"In reply, Birendra pulled Malati towards him and stamped a long, lingering kiss on her lips. Malati thrust her tongue into his mouth…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"But Malati did not concieve. Not only that. A similar situation had been engineered thrice over, but to no avail. Malati was delighted. She wasn't keen on conceiving because that would have brought her cohabitation with Birendra to an end. Be it merely once a month, but she used to enjoy epending a night with Bitendra - such great pleasure it gave her. Birendra was at a loss to understand. 'What happened?' Was it that his sperms had died in absence of sexual intercouese following Parbati's prolonged ailment? Was he no more capable of procreating children?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"In the course of a trip to Calcutta, Birendra had nis semen medically tested. The medical report had it the his sperms had been dead from the very beginning. As such, he could never have impregnated a woman.Birendra had the greatest shock of his life…it was as if he had been hurtled down a precipice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Dhirendra? Kusum? Whose chldren were they? Oh my god! And, Parvati, how about her? Ours was a love marriage. I have had no inkling if Parvati had an affair with anyone prior to our marriage. I loved Parvati and she loved me. But this betrayal after marriage!' Birendra was besides huimself with anger and agony…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Parvari's health suffered a setback. Her ailment was diagnosed as a terminal cancer. Everyone knew that she would not live long…Parvati's father successfully used all the influence to have Birendra transfered back to Darjeeling. But Birendra lost his peace of mind all the more following his transfer. He started keeping away not only from his wife, but also from his children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Even though she was ill, the change that had overtaken her husband could not remain hidden from Parvati's eyes. One day she sent for Birendra. He came and sat on a chair near her bed. Both were silent for a while. Parvati peered into Birendra's eyes. Birendra too met her eyes squarely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"With a long gasp of breath, Parvati said, 'I shan't live long. I feel concerned about the future of Dhirendra and Kusum.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'H'm, H'm!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Don't you have anything to say on the subject?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'What am I to say? I have been discharging my duties towards them and shall keep on doing so.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Duty! How dry an expression! Love, affection…don't they exist in your vocabulary?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Love, affection…Everything had been there. But no longer. Can you draw water out of a dried-up well? The fountain-head of love and affection has dried up, and it is you who caused it. Look into your own heart. What are the secrets you have hidden there?...But, woman, deseption is in your very nature.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'What happened to you? What is in your mind?...What deception are you accusing me of?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;" 'Bah! Do you still intend to continue making a fool of me? Then listen. Dhirendra and Kusum are the products of your sin. They are not my children and I have with me an irrefutable evidence to prove it.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Parvati's condition deteriotated fast…Parvati stared at Birendra, disbelief and consternation writ large on her face. She made as if to say something, but only a guttural gurgle came out. She choked and fell into a dead faint…'My end is near,' thought she. She asked for a pen and paper, filled up some sheets, put them in an envelope with Birendra's name on it and asked the maid-servant to place it at the bottom of Kusum's trunk. That very night Parvati died.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Some ten days after Parvati's death, there was a faint knock at Birendra's door. 'Who's it?' he said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"A scared-looking Kusum timidly entered into the room and said,'Daddy, I found this letter in my trunk and it's addresed to you.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"The leter read:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'Dear Birendra,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'What's the good of hiding anything from you at this last stage of my life? What's more, it appears you have also had an inkling of the basic thing…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'You may recall that my father had served in the Bihar Military Police at Ranchi for a long time. There, while I was in the college, I fell in love with a boy. My parents were also aware it. They also liked the boy, Dil Bahadur. But one day an awful storm swept over my life and blew everything away. Union elections were taking place in the college. Students had split into two factions. Dissension amongst the leaders took an ugly turn and violence reared its head. Three students were killed and several injured…Dil Bahadur was sentenced to a 10-year jail-term. I became a living corpse. All my hopes and dreams lay shattered..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'Then you came into my life. With your love I tried to forget my past love-life. But I could not. Meanwhile, your love and insistence added to parental pressure compelled me to enter into wedlock with you. Four years went by thus…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'Suddenly, one day I saw Dil Bahadur. He had come to meet me once and then bid goodbye for ever…But that unforeseen meeting eith Dil Bahadur only helped revive my old love towards him. I forgot all about social norms of a married woman; I surrendered to him..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'I do not think I betrayed anyone. If I did bettray anybody, it was myself, because I took shelter under you when you offered it…Well, I became pregnant. I could not ascertain whether if was you or Dil Bahadur that had caused it. He went away after a few days. We met again after two years . I became pregnant again. This time the circumstances were such as to leave no room for doubt. I was bearing Dil Bahadur's child. Till the other day I did not know it was not possible for you to beget children…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'Three months after Kusum's birth, Dil Bahadur was killed in a train accident. Darkness enveloped my life once again. I became ill…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;'Dhirendra and Kusum are innocent.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is my destiny which was at fault. Forgive me if you can. Farewell, Birendra…'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Days passed into months, months into years. Dhirendra and Kusum grew up and completed their studies. Birendra became a sort of wanderer from one palce to another. Finally, he renounced the world…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The tale was told. Gajendra Roka pondered deeply. Then he said,"Your story lends strength to your statement, I do agree. But do you think Birendra was in fact under such a searing mental agony as you suggested?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"That's absolutely true. I know it for a certainty."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"You?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Yes. I am Birendra."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;[Courtesy: &lt;i&gt;Sheet of Snow&lt;/i&gt;, an anthology of sixteen Nepali short stories, translated into English by Nagendra Sharma and published by Nirala Publications, Jaipur and New Delhi,1997..]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;h4 style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Sveta Bhairavi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;                                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;B.P. Koirala&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;              &lt;/span&gt;It's a tale of a time long ago, as old as 35 years. I was around 10 or 11 years old at the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;              &lt;/span&gt;Rains over, the autumn season was just around. The giant Koshi river, after having devoured many homes and hamlets, humans and animals in the course of its flooding fury, was alowly shrinking back to its normal bounds. But the signs of its earlier riverine devastaion were till around in the shape of ponds and poodles, of swamps and soft earth…as if the &lt;i&gt;Taandava&lt;/i&gt; dance of destruction was over, but the air was still thick with its reverberations. The earth looked as if she had jusk shaken-off the pangs of her pregnancy…as cold and wet. Butterflies&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;of various hues were lightly fluttering here and there like some painted boats. One could experience a certain nip entering into the atmospphere. The wind-speed was soft and slow, enthusing people with spontaneous sportiveness. The paddy field had startted yellowing at places. Life was more at ease.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;             &lt;/span&gt;At the south-east corner of our kitchen-garden was located Lehala's tiny house. It was more of a shack rather than a homesetead. Lehala, a petty-famrmer of the Kewat tribe, lived in it with his lone daughter, Faaguni.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;              &lt;/span&gt;Faaguni must have been 16 years old. But while I sit to record events o so long ago, I feel it is almost futile to discuss Faaguni's age. That she was 16 may be a fiction of my own imagination alone - 35 years later today. Only that she wasn't a little girl, nor was she a mature maiden. But even in the pristine rural atmosphere of what for me was a golden village of childhood memory, innocent girls did show signs of youthfulnes and Faaguni couldn't have been an exception. That's why I put her age as sixteen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                &lt;/span&gt;Faaguni had something special about her. Her features were extraordinarily fair. In a sea of black and swarthy faces, and of moderately light-complexioned people like us, her fairness stood out in stark contrast. Her eyes were grey and her tiny hair had taken a golden hue. Had she been in a position to give herself a beauty and cosmetic treatment, her skin colour, hair and eyes would have led one to mistake her for a south European. But where were these toiletries available to her?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                  &lt;/span&gt;Even her nature set her apart from the other village belles. She was sober in a peculiar way. While her contemporaries and peers were given to giggling on flimsy pretexts as they worked in the fields, or went to the forests for fodder, or to the village-well to fetch water, she would remain unmoved…More, she didn't even have friends. She grew up, a lonely bird, on the banks of the river and spent most of her time under a mango-tree next door. She would perhaps play with dust the whole day under that tree, keeping a lonely vigil over her house, as she waited for her gather to return from the fields, or she would perhaps proceed to the river for an occasional bath.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                  &lt;/span&gt;I am here to relate just one incident. It is not even a day-long incident, but an unexpected happening of an afternoon that resembled a crack of a thunder-bolt from a clear blue sky in a peaceful moment. The incident itself lasted a short while and I am aslo keen to narrate it in brief.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                   &lt;/span&gt;Faaguni used to work in our household. Since ours was a large family, even minor day-to-day chores used to consume a whole day at her age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                    &lt;/span&gt;Howsoever large a household be, a time comes in its daily life - no, even in the daily life of an entire village - when a thick pall of silence descends upon it. Time stands still…and a strange quiet prevails. In the midst of&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;such an all-pervading silence, even a minor sound resounds with an explosive report and makes an apprehensive heart start a-thumping with curiosity. What's up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                    &lt;/span&gt;I was reclining on a small mat in a lonely room. All my friends and plymates had perhaps gone to the Koshi river either to play in its sandbanks or to swim in its waters - they ostensibly forgot to take me along. At least my chum, Litthu, ought to have called me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                    &lt;/span&gt;Random thoughts kept contantly crossing my mind in the all-pervading silence, like paper-boats floating in the river, one after another. I was aware only of the acute soundlessness - a silence that was palpable enough for me to possibly touch even while lying down.It is in such moments of utter silence that incorporeal objects such as ghosts and goblins take shape in the mind's eye. The story of &lt;i&gt;Boksi&lt;/i&gt;, a female gnome, narrated by Sannani, a female relative, also crossed my mind like a flash - so did thoughts of a black-mouthed dog of the &lt;i&gt;Boksi,&lt;/i&gt; that is said to devour bones in the cremation ground. The reversed, back-to-front feet of the &lt;i&gt;Kichkanni&lt;/i&gt;, also a female gnome, horns portruding out of her chest, also seemed to have materialised as vague shapes in the all-quiet surroundings. I wasn't terrified, however.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                     &lt;/span&gt;It was at this moment of eerie quietness that the door creaked sligthly ajar. It had obviously been pulled open, but even that minor sound hit my ears as if by an explosion, given the mystery-bound silence infested with imaginary wordless - and bodiless - beings. I was alarmed and my heart-beats mounted. 'What's up?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                      &lt;/span&gt;But my appprehensions were set at rest as I saw none other but Faaguni, equipped with a small bucket containing a cowdung-and-mud mix soaked in water, as also a &lt;i&gt;Lundo&lt;/i&gt; floor-scrubbing rag. On entering, she said, "Get up Saanu Baabu, I am here to give the room a wash-up."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                       &lt;/span&gt;I&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;kept on string at Faaguni, unmoved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                        &lt;/span&gt;"Why do you stare at me so?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                        &lt;/span&gt;"You're wearing a new &lt;i&gt;Dhoti&lt;/i&gt; today, that's why."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;"I felt like putting on a new Dhoti today. Isn't it nice?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                        &lt;/span&gt;"Yes, it is."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                        &lt;/span&gt;Her grey eyes twinkled. Grey-eyes do not seem to possess the stability that is characteristic of blue eyes or black - the glimmer of pleasure shows faster in grey eyes. I witnessed the same glimmer in her eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;Faaguni's playfulness was also peculiar today. To see such a sudden sea-change in a person not normally used to fun and frolic makes one wonder awhile at the mysteries of human nature. What has overtaken Faaguni today, that she has suddenly turned so unusually vocal? Asked she, "Why are you staying here all alone, when you should have been out, playing with friends?" And, again, adding in a peculiar vein, "Do you feel like staying alone, without a wife?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;Marriage, wife and love - these were topics that made me bashful those days without a reason. I must have reddened in the ears as I protested, "Nonsense…!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;Faaguni must have fathomed my agitated, non-plussed state. She let out a guffaw and went on laughing. The more my cheeks reddened, the more they fuelled her laughter. But my male ego erupted at a point as I said, "How about your husband? Where's he?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;That put an end to her mirth, but her features asumed a peculiar tenor as she smiled and said, "You are (my husband)!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                           &lt;/span&gt;"Nonsense!..." I repeated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                           &lt;/span&gt;It appeared that her eyes changed their hue in no time. They grew visibly darker. A shade of dull, as it were, that overcomes a tree-groove, ashen during the Fall and prior to sprouting afresh, when shaded by the cloud.There wasn't only a change in her eyes, but I felt her bodily frame was also in the grip of a major upheaval which she&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;was trying to withstand or resist. She was apparently tremulous, shaking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;I said,"I know you have a husband. By the way, why don't you go and live your husband, eh, Faaguni?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                            &lt;/span&gt;"We have merely exchanged &lt;i&gt;Chuman&lt;/i&gt;; the &lt;i&gt;gaunaa&lt;/i&gt;, wedding ritual, is yet to take place" - she trembled again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;           &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                  &lt;/span&gt;"What's a &lt;i&gt;Chuman&lt;/i&gt;?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;/span&gt;"A kiss.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A holy confluence of two pairs of lips." But how could I, a kid of 9/10 years at the time, be expected to appreciate the significance of a kiss? I could only vaguely feel that a kiss was somehow connected with marriage, spouse, and love; but all these were alike in being secret and full of shame. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                                &lt;/span&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Chuman&lt;/i&gt; is a childhood ritual with us," she added, "one that calls for&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;mixing the blood of a would-be bride with that of a groom; each of their small fingers is pinpricked in order to draw blood and the girl's bleeding fingers are rubbed against those of the boy. &lt;i&gt;Gaunaa&lt;/i&gt; ritual follows when they are grown-up, and the groom takes his bride home after that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                                &lt;/span&gt;I asked her while still lying aslant, "Your hubby hasn't come to take you home, why?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                                &lt;/span&gt;She visibly shook all over once again and said with some excitement, "Come on, come on your foot, quick - I have to give the floor a wash-up." And then, with a giggle, 'Didn't I tell you, you're my hubby?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;She suddenly stiffened further, and her eyes darkened all the more. A hoarseness came over her voice as she asked, "Isn't there anyone around? And below?" She abruptly stood up and inspected the adjoiing rooms. Then returned. But, by then, the fairness of her face appeared to have been left behind - it had simply vanished. A bluish hue had overtaken it, and her eyes appeared further sunk into their sockets, like two deep and dried-up water-holes. Her breath came heavy - and fast. The twin signs of her youth protruded from her dark blouse like two sharp and stiff horns jutting out of a doe's head. Like an abrupt and sudden sandstorm that rushes amongst the sands of the Koshi, she rushed and stumbled towards me, almost gasping, "You are my husband!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Her breath was as warm as the whiff of the hotwind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;/span&gt;Like one frightened out of his wits, I started running around the room and away from her. And, as I ran, I felt Faaguni wasn't anymore her usual self - she resembled a breakaway stream of the Koshi that swirls in a flood-like fury during high tide. &lt;i&gt;Sveta Bhairavi&lt;/i&gt;, the terrifying goddess, had been aroused, her locks flayling wild in the air, her eyes like burnt-out embers, the destructive power of the &lt;i&gt;Taandava&lt;/i&gt; dance in her legs, horns jutting out of a blue-black bosom, and an open cavern of a mouth belching out a hot vapour-like breath! &lt;i&gt;Sveta Bahairavi&lt;/i&gt;, Faaguni… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When and at what point of time in the course of that mad rush she tipped over the bucket, I do not know. A protruding nail seemed even to have dug into her feet and torn out her new Sari. The floor was a mess of multiple footprints bathed in blood and slush. But whe was unmoved and uncaring, while I was running breathless in order to escape falling into her mad clutches…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;"Oh my god, save me, save me! The vast cavernous mouth of &lt;i&gt;Shveta Bhairavi&lt;/i&gt; is out to devour me! Save me from her demon-like claws and nails, or else I will be burnt out in the furnace of her hot breath…I will be torn and pierced by her chest-horns…Save me, oh, save me!"&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My childhood mind, steeped in a world of fairy-tales seething with gnomes and goblins, with witch-like &lt;i&gt;kichkinnis&lt;/i&gt; and other residents of the graveyard, envisioned them afresh and made me terror-stricken. I felt like fainting in a swoon. And, in a final bid to escape, I jumped out of the window, my eyes closed shut!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;There was a heap of bamboo splinters below, meant for fencing the garden. I fell upon the stack, and a sharp nail jutting out of it pierced into my right leg just below the knee. Blood gushed out in a spout.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;The storm subsided as suddenly as it had started. It was as if the Koshi river had returned, once again, to normalcy and was placid and calm, the erstwhile flood having subsided and forgotten. Faaguni came near me. A quitened Faaguni, unruffled and calm, a fair village damsel that she ever was, smiled soothingly and asked, "Were you badly hurt, Saanu Babu?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;Her grey eyes had by then assumed their normal shade, her bodily frame and fair face had regained their original composure. There was no trace of excitement anymore. The horns were now but elevations of an alluring youthfulness. That was Faaguni, Lelaha's daughter and our maid, who had had her &lt;i&gt;chuman&lt;/i&gt; but was breathlessly awaiting the arrival of her betrothed boy for consummation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;Be that as it may, a storm had indeed brewed and broken a while earlier. Was that an incident to be forgotten? My childhood self was constantly at awe - what if the other people came to know of it? It would be a matter of degradation and shame.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why would it be a matter of shame or distress was beyond my childish comprehension. But then, that feeling remained and, in order that no one else knew what had transpired, I said, "I am okay, Faaguni; you can go."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;One day I was crossing the small diversion of the Koshi river next to Lelaha's house. The water was just knee-deep. With the &lt;i&gt;Dhoti&lt;/i&gt; wrap-round well above my knees, the reddish scar of my wound could be seen from a distance, shiny in the sun. Standing under the mango tree near her courtyard, Faaguni had been watching me come. As I approached her after crossing the river, she said, "Perhaps you have by now grasped the meaning of &lt;i&gt;chuman&lt;/i&gt; well. A union between bloods. Your blood and mine got united that day over the bamboo heap."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;"How long must one wait for the &lt;i&gt;gaunaa&lt;/i&gt;?- I replied, laughing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Chuman&lt;/i&gt; is the important thing. But, at any rate, I have branded you so well as to leave its mark on you as long as you live. I also have, with me, an indelible stamp of that maddening moment, for keeps."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;Even today, some three decades later, the scar on my knee reminds me of Faaguni. Where might she be? Would she be still alive? When must have her &lt;i&gt;gaunaa&lt;/i&gt; taken place? Did or did not her husband get Sveta Bhairavi's &lt;i&gt;darshan&lt;/i&gt; when he may have come to the village to fetch her?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;The branch rivulet of the Koshi, the stunted mango tree, and Lelaha Kewat - how must they be faring now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Courtesy: &lt;i&gt;Sheet of Snow&lt;/i&gt;, an anthology of sixteen Nepali short stories, translated into English by Nagendra Sharma and published by Nirala Publications, Jaipur and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;New Delhi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;,1997.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;The Plum Tree Blossoms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;     &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;-Gabriel Rana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;The rich and thick profusion of plum-tree blossoms atop the steep hillside scarred by landslides give rise to a peculiar sensation in me - my fast-paced footsteps come to an abrupt halt - and I keep on gazing incessantly at those flowers. My love towards these blossoms of plum-tree was born almost simultaneously with my arrival in this village as a school teacher. I wish this plum-tree was always in blossom so that I could have an opportunity of gazing at them unceasingly and for ever! But, alas, that's not to be …all too soon, and just in a matter of days, these blossoms would yield place to green foiage and my eyes would be left, once again, fondly pining for the oncoming spring season.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                   &lt;/span&gt;I see many things changing in the meanwhile - small children growing fast into bigger individuals, the &lt;i&gt;Bains&lt;/i&gt; tree beside the house outgrowing the height of the roofs, and the like. The steep land-eroded cliff in front, which presently features &lt;i&gt;Uttis&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Chilaauney&lt;/i&gt; trees - was it like this in the earlier days? The flood and landslide of 1968 swept away the tiny cottage and the cowshed beside it - to God knows where! I used to dream of a small and blissful domesticity for myself, a world akin to it - made up of a similar cottage, a cowshed and a conjugal harmony. It had become a daily routine with me to sltealthily oggle at Chyangba's wife as she wended her way, a pitcher adjusted besides her waist and water spilling over, towards her house. That bastard Chyangba - how adept he was in singing Tamang &lt;i&gt;selo&lt;/i&gt; songs and to enliven the entire village with his lilting tunes on festive occaions such as the Dasain an &lt;i&gt;Tihaar&lt;/i&gt;! A more dexterous singer, who had in him the capacity to cock a tuneful snook at young damsels, thus teasing them to near-mortification, there was no one else in the entire village.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;              &lt;/span&gt;The only bitterness in the Chyangba couple's life appeared to be the absence of children - they hadn't any; everyone was aware of the countless &lt;i&gt;puja&lt;/i&gt; worships and propitiations she had offered to the deities beseeching the gift of a child - even spending freely out of the meagre sale-proceeds of the milk she vended.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;If I was enamoured of Chyangba's songs, he also found immense pleasure in coming to me for an occasional light banter…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;On occasions when he was boozed with an overdose of &lt;i&gt;jaanr&lt;/i&gt;, the local brew, his joviality took rather weird turns. I recall, not without a little amazement even today, what he had told me once while holding me by the arms - "As…it is futile for me to expect offsprings from this wife of mine - you could as well take her for yourself if you so like - I would rather get wedded to another wench from &lt;i&gt;Pahaad&lt;/i&gt;, my ancestral village in Nepal."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;In an astounded disbelief, the only reply I could make on hearing him was, "Nonsense, a wife isn't a &lt;i&gt;chillum&lt;/i&gt; of &lt;i&gt;ganja&lt;/i&gt; hemp that one keeps on passing on to whoever is near at hand with alacrity!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                           &lt;/span&gt;He wasn't the&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;kind of man to take things lying down, however; nor was his counter-poser of a kind that I couldn't have comprehended. "Isn't it better to hand over the stuff to someone when it ceases to be useful (to myself) rather than throw it down the gutter…?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                            &lt;/span&gt;What could I reply now? The only thing I remember clearly was my tongue-tied discomfiture as I would try to switch over the topic of discussion to something else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;But never did one hear Chyangba thrashing or tormenting his wife for her failure to produce his progeny. We always used to see the couple going about their own ways in pursuit of their respective vocations. All of us could see the two trudging downhill to the marketplace once a week to fetch their supplies of the daily necessities of life - only that, on his way back from the &lt;i&gt;bazaar&lt;/i&gt; mart, a &lt;i&gt;jaanr&lt;/i&gt;-inebriated Chyangba would make it straight to my place of residence to promptly and unfailingly raise the topic of offering his wife to me once again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                            &lt;/span&gt;I also remember the question I had put to him while he brought up the topic the next time. "Why do you want to give away such a beautiful wife to me simply because the two of you failed to produce any children? You could as well marry a second time without casting her off…?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;He delivered a rather long sermon to me in reply to my proposition that he he could have two co-wives living together. "The instance of &lt;i&gt;sautaa &lt;/i&gt;co-wives&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;coming mutually to terms is almost unheard of; it may be a rare exception. That's why I would rather spare my wife the prospect of having to live unhappily with a &lt;i&gt;sautaa&lt;/i&gt;; on the other hand, it is my wish that she spends the rest of her life in the happy company of a compatible gentleman. I do not know, Sire, how you feel about&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;it…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Of course, I always felt embarrassed and awkward to hear Chyangba repeatedly make a similar proposition; and I also recall the counter-question I had put to him one day, "So I take it that you have already had a talk with your wife on these lines?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;"Yes, of course; what's the difficulty in my talking such things over with her! My wife is determined not to stay with a co-wife under the same roof, but would rather prefer to take another husband, if someone to her liking was forthcoming."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                               &lt;/span&gt;"That means you have also talked to her about me…?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                                &lt;/span&gt;"Yes…I did talk once - she almost died of shame,… but would she ever say 'no' to a proposal designed to give her a respectable 'sir' like you for a husband? What do you think?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;Naughty Chyangba's preposterous proposition would give rise to a tumultuous war-of-words within myself - what if she's someone else's wife ? She doesn't at all compare unfavourably with any city-bred damsel - smart, blithe and buxom that she is ! Besides, she is ever jolly and open-minded, as if she is completely unaware of what suffering is. I remember quite well how I had felt at the time - I had already concluded, in other words, that it would be no crime on my part to accept her as my wife should Chyangba did ultimaterly decide in favour of bringing in a second wife and discarding the first one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;I recall, too, and not without a sense of bashfulness, that once I had, on the impulse of the moment, given my word to Chyangba that I was not averse to the idea of accepting his wife as mine own. This happened one evening when he came to my room in a fairly high intoxication, broached the subject once again and announced that he would like to come to a decision in respect of her rather early, as he would be leaving for his ancestral village sometime after the impending &lt;i&gt;Dasain&lt;/i&gt; festival. But nature willed it otherwise - neither Chyangba's scheme nor that of mine came to fruition…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Just as the &lt;i&gt;Dasain&lt;/i&gt; festivities were on, came three consecutive days of non-stop downpour. So heavy was the rainfall, indeed, that it sent shivers down everyone's spine. One night, there was a sudden and loud uproar that reverberated throughout the village - peole were seen scurrying helter-skelter with burning brands and lighted hurricane-lanterns in their hands, shouting and screaming. I also rushed out of my residence to find myself in the midst of the crowd. I heard someone addressing me and saying, "Sir, a landslip has swept away Chyangba's home and hearth; both his homestead and the cowshed are gone!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;I ran fast in a frenzy till I reached the top of the landslided cliff. But I felt someone's hand catching hold of my arm and pulling me behind; I also heard him say, "Sir, what are you doing? You nearly killed yourself by falling down the precipice!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;And he was right - I was keen to let myself go down the landslide. How I wished, alas, that I had gone the way Chyangba did - that would at least have brought an end to the story. But as it is, it wasn't destined to end that way…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                               &lt;/span&gt;As I stood among the crowd that had gathered above the land-slided cliff and as I found myself looking down, with unblinking eyes, as far deep down the crevasse as possible, I heard someone comment, "Poor Chyangba's wife, the plum-tree she had so painstakingly nurtured and grown was left untouched by the landslide - it's the only thing that has been left behind…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;It is thus that my eyes have since craved eternally for the sight of a plum-tree in bloom, year after year. So many things have changed around me since then, but I find my yearning and pining for a blossoming plum-tree remains as undiminished as ever…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;[Courtesy: &lt;i&gt;Sheet of Snow&lt;/i&gt;, an anthology of sixteen Nepali short stories, translated into English by Nagendra Sharma and published by Nirala Publications, Jaipur and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;New Delhi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;,1997.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; 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font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Kantipur;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                           &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Sheet of Snow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;                     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;                 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;-Lokendra Bahadur Chand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;The clock had struck only four, but no amount of effort on Amar's part to go back&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;to sleep bore fruit. The surroundings were quiet and silent, without even the sound of a bird-song. The sounds emitted by the clatter of metal-buckets and the hot exchange of words at the public water-faucet in the frontyard were also non-existent. Taken aback, Amar peeped out of the window. The grassy meadow in front appeared a little aglitter despite the enveloping darkness, not as much because of the moonlight but because of the tiny snowflakes settling on the ground like so many white rose-petals or pieces of raw cotton. They were falling ever so softly, as if wary of the earth being wounded by a heavier impact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                        &lt;/span&gt;The dusty ground, green farmlands and the heap of garbage facing the water-faucet were all covered under a sheet of ice. What a lovely scene! But a human mind has its own peculiarity - it starts gnawing at you regardless of the time being appropriate or otherwise. A vacant gaze at the skies led Amar to feel as if the snowflakes circling in the soft air were knitting a kind of web and the swaying trees trying to break themselves free from the entrapping network. He had broken himself free from a similar web woven by the cruel hands of time only yesterday. But even as a man is able to free himself from such entangling, he feels gloomy and downcast, why? He doesn't have an answer to these questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;It all started six years ago. Amar hade been admitted to the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Sripur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Degree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;College&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; for advanced studies. One day, as th skies somehow cleared affter a daylong spell of snow-fall, he had come out of his residence for a stroll. He had hardly gone a few yards when a hard blow hit him at the back of the head. As he reeled round to see what had happened, he saw a fairly sizeable snow-ball lying on the ground after hitting his head. He looked up at an adjoining window, only to notice a human figure quickly recede away from there and disappear into the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;It was, without doubt, the figure of a girl. "Simply because you're a girl, does it entitle you to throw snowballs on passers-by?" - the manhood inside Amar sought to muster its ego and to shout, but conscience had an upperhand at the end and he thought the better of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;Back home at his residence, the only question troubling his injured grey-matter was the possible identity of the girl. A &lt;i&gt;Kharidar&lt;/i&gt; clerk also lived in the same flat, and, almost as an exception, he had only one son, Dinesh. Hardly had some ten minutes elapsed when the same boy ran into Amar's room, a chit in hand. "I beg to be excused for the mishap, which was quite unintentional" - read the missive scribbled on the chit, but it&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;bore no identity of the sender.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                         &lt;/span&gt;"Who gave you this chit?" - he asked the boy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;"Rita Didi,' replied Dinesh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                          &lt;/span&gt;"Who's she?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                           &lt;/span&gt;"Don't you know? She is my own elder sister."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;"But hardly have I seenher."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                            &lt;/span&gt;"What of that? Must you see every person to prove that they exist?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;Rita. The name sounded sweet. Further prodding revealed that she was Dinesh's elder sister who stayed in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Kathmandu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt; with her uncle for studies and had come here this time to enjoy the snows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;"Had your mistake been slightly more severe, my skull would have split into two" - Amar scribbled at the back of the chit. He eagerly awaited a reply to this, but none was forthcoming, nor could he lay his eyes on her since then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              &lt;wbr&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;But humans not being mice, cannot hide themselves in burrows for&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;long. One day, as Amar was proceeding to his college, Rita appeared at the verandah. With rose-hued lips, faint curls of hair and a whitish complexion, there was hardly anything special about her physical structure; but her eyes - two charming eyes resembling lotus-buds afloat in the &lt;i&gt
