Khorampa*
There was mela** of fogs atop and around the hill. Unknown that was to me why the fogs chose the place for the mela under the porch...
Every Morning
Every morning I wake up with the news of bloodshed. I feel my body, desperate to know whether I’m still alive. I express my thankfulness...
Entanglements
Let me not so much be lost in involvements as would make me incapable of recognizing the fragrance of the flower beaming in my own...
A Story of The Setting Sun and The Moon
The road comes from somewhere and goes straight somewhere else caring not the Chautari* that awaits him, goes past, leaving her where...
गर्मी
गर्मी अपनी उत्कर्ष से भी और उपर जा रही है मानो, कसम खा रखा है, तमाम थर्मामिटरों को तोडे बिना निचे न उतरने की । हवा इधर आने का मन नहीं कर...
Before switching off Light
Hushed dark Feeling walls With hands of winds Is groping its passage Into the house. Light Jumping out of window Is staring the dark From...
बच्चे / सुमन पोखरेल
तोडना चाहने मात्र से भी उनके कोमल हाथों पे खुद ही आ जाते हैँ फूल डाली से, उनके नन्हे पाँव से कुचल जाने पे आजीवन खुद को धिक्कारते हैँ...
Trees
My eyes are upon the trees. For, trees do not live in fragments. till they fall, they stand flanked by life in its own embrace. In...