तिम्रो र मेरो कथाको एउटा सानो अंश

सायद संसारमा तिमी नभएको भए, अहिलेको यो मेरो समय उजाड हुनेथियो होला,
वा सायद जे हुनेथियो त्यो त अवस्य नै हुनेथियो,
खुशी, दुख वा यी दुवै ध्रुवीय भावधाराको मिश्रित अवस्था,
आखिर जे जस्तो जे जति भएनी मान्छेलाई पुग्ने नै कहाँ थियो र !

तर वर्तमानमा तिम्रो आँखामा डुबुल्की मार्दै गरेका मेरा कलिला सपना,
अनि, तिम्रो हृदयको न्यानो आत्मियता,
म खुशी छु,
सायद मेरो जीवनकै सर्वोच्च खुशीको शिखर यो क्षण,
मैले सबैथोक पाइसकें झैं लाग्छ,
मैले थेग्न सक्ने भन्दा बढ्ता

कस्तो अचम्म,
संसारमा अरबौं मान्छे छन्, अनि अरबौं आँखाका अरबौं सपना
तर मात्र तिम्रो आँखाले मेरो यथार्थ बुझेको छ,
तेसैले होला, आजकल म एक्लो छैन, न नै त निराश
यो वर्तमान त्यसैले पनि त प्रिय छ,
'के सोचिरा' तिमी भन्छौ,
'छैन, केहि नि' म भन्छु'
तर पनि तिमी सब बुझ्छौ,

सायद, प्रेमलाई प्राप्ति संग नतौलिने,
कृष्ण र राधाको प्राप्ति-बिहिन आत्मिय जीवनको,
म कृष्ण त हैन, न नै त तिमी राधा,
तर मेरा हरेक अव्यक्त भाव बुझ्ने,
अनि मेरा झर्दै-सुकेका आँशुमा जीवन रस घोलिदिने,
तिमी मेरो सबै भन्दा प्यारो सहयात्री,
अनि, म एउटा सारथी, मात्र मेरो जिवन को l
अनि यो वर्तमान,
तिम्रो र मेरो कथाको एउटा सानो अंश,
अनि क्रमस टाढिदै गरको हाम्रो गन्तब्यको
एउटा साझा बिन्दु 

A man steps into a beach
No, not guided by the beauty of the waves
A dark tragedy hits his nerves everyday
And now, he seeks an answer from the unknown
He doubts for the power hidden in caves

Highs and lows of his life are not the cause
He affirms, dwells and inquires; to solve
Optimism, inspiration and self-motivation, and courage
All he has, all that he has earned through these years
Yet, there’s a fact, he could not change
He walks with it; but he wants to live
And not just breathe

There, along the thin line that defines horizon
He wonders, expects and dreams; of someone
Someone to hold a lamp of miracle,
God, may be an angel or Sages blessed;
A paradox, he hates God, angel and their existence
For he has learnt, n seen, n felt, there’s no creator
Or else why a deaf ear for a millions’ pain?
He argues, debates and confirms, no it’s absurd
And then, he contradicts, he wants to be healed
He still dreams of lamp and its bearer

The man, now rises, and walks again
Still gazing at that thin line of horizon
To feel alive, and live again.
No, the man ain't me
He is someone I witness everyday
Sitting on the beach
He smiles at me
He wonders, n inquires
And, in silence,
Disappears.

Gopal Trital
10 March'13

One Happy Poem

So this one day, I composed a happy poem

that sounded like a sad story the next day,

of how the steps are closer, yet away.

Every evening he settles before the sun,

he wears a mask and walks silently

looks at the mirror, and says that is me,

says, all I have to do is accept him,

and keep moving on with this self,

and think of loneliness as peace of mind.

I try sometimes to teach him about the world,

of love, companionship and also relationships,

of how magical it could be,

to be in a fairytale dream.

He puts on a conceited smile,

‘as if it would ever exist for you’.

So this one day, I composed a happy poem,

of how he should admit that even I can be loved.

So the next day, I went out to a park, to paint that dream,

where we stood and walked through the shades of red.

She smiled compassion, bliss, and charm that would heal my pain,

yet she wore drops of tears, sadness and nostalgic tunes of broken days.

‘You deserve happiness’, my eyes screamed at her silently,

and through her to the person I could see on the reflection.

Of late, I walked back home, to see him wear that smug face again,

‘did that exist for you’, he knows I’m already been down.

I didn’t have nothing, except for the questions I’d gather all along.

Every evening he settles again before the sun,

he wears a mask and walks silently

looks at the mirror, and says that is me,

says, all I have to do is accept him,

and keep moving on with this self,

and think of loneliness as peace of mind.

Now I wear his face, and he wears mine.

I meet him sometimes at corners where they exhibit the fairytale dream,

‘It doesn’t exist for you’ he pulls her back yet again,

and knocks me into the tram that reads

“From nowhere to nowhere”, ‘have a safe journey ahead.’

One (un)usual ramble

You see, on a Sunday afternoon, when snowfall from an earlier night is almost melting,

my memories get almost as nostalgic as that of the earlier afternoons,

 where I almost made something beautiful out of my life,

I saw her melting down her emotions.

Now don’t be overexcited, fellow passengers,

you see, her emotions were hers, meaning, not for me.

But I wouldn’t mind, as long as you can see people beyond their outer self,

one can only see through when their emotions are coming through.

It was then I realized how soft she really was.

If you had a long lost cousin’s best friend’s uncle’s brother-in law sick and tired,

she would still get that moisture in between her blinks, she would say, ‘get well soon’.

Now this is not what makes her the princess,

it is her innocence that softly reflects on her face,

and when the settling sun created that aroma of magic in the sky,

she was amazed at that perfection, not realizing the perfection of that reflection on her face,

but she wouldn’t agree.

Fellow passengers, now you see, here’s a problem.

It’s call the problem of recurring cycle.

If you imagine a point where I, as a writer, am stuck between point A and point G,

and somehow I'm propelled back to A again, and again, without an escape point,

you would, perhaps, understand the gravity that my problem exhibits.

Point A, where I carry my luggage of yesteryears, of rejections and apprehensions

Point B, I meet someone new, I am hesitant, conscious, trying hard to dissolve within

Point C, I fall in, I give up, there’s a new magic, I’m mesmerized

Point D, I recoil, I give up the fall, my apprehension wins me again

It’s not smooth a transition from Point D to E,

but somehow I manage to smash through that apprehension.

Point E, dream of reciprocation, I paint billion dollar paintings,

of awesomeness of togetherness,

By the way, alert buyers, I could sell them someday,

for now, you can avail them in silent streets that crosses her place and mine.

Point G. No, wait, there’s a point F in between, 

the point of ‘F’riend-zone, practically the end of this loop, but I often take it a bit further.

Point G, where I’m back with another reinforced version of Gopal, the nicest guy.

And, back to A.

Let’s make that cycle again. And again, and again.

Now you might me wondering why the description of this cycle,

after that fairy tale of the wintry afternoon, well, you guessed it right, 

I’m on the point D, or perhaps, marginally on Point F or even G.

You know what is so unique about this cycle?

 Every time it feels like I am on these points for the first time, 

I start myself tangent to all my previous circles in an entirely different set of realities.

At this juncture of this long piece of writing, let me claim, 

and hear me loud and clear,

it might sound as if I boasting myself here, 

but if ever in any of these points in the cycle had I been committed by the reciprocity of that other being,

I would have silently climbed up the another level of life, 

perhaps a happier one,

that's what I think, at least, I have highest regard for things I think.

Alright, let’s not go off the tangent again. 

Let’s talk about her, if you are still interested.

This one day she told me that she is as unpredictable as the weather here, and perhaps, I would be tired.

I’m not the weatherman, but I know how to keep things happy around me in all kinds of weather,

all you got to do is,

dance when it rains

cuddle up when it gets cold

swim across when it gets hot

and kiss gently when it gets romantic.

For my ever vulnerable, longing and loving life,

everything exhibits an unrequited romantic potential,

as simple as that.

You know what annoys me most?

Couples fighting, when they could just tap into the nature, get close, and be involved,

From the chilly mornings to solitary nights, every atom of the existence demands romance,

now don't confuse romance with mating needs, former is profound version of callous latter.

Fellow passengers, here we have arrived on point E again, the dream of reciprocation,

and you can now get a quick glimpse of what lies beyond the cycle.

For now keep your fingers crossed, 

and let the time unfold the mystery of journey ahead. 

Will keep you posted.

Photographs from Development Photography Workshop Exhibition 2016

The Story of a Fortune Teller

Everyday at the premises of Pashupatinath Temple in Kathmandu of Nepal, a number of Fortune Tellers would be awaiting to read your lines; lines that supposedly describes your destiny and fortune.

This is a Photo-Story about a daily routine of one of those Fortune Tellers.

Presented and Photographed by
Gopal Trital and Aishwarya Rani Singh
July of 2016.

मिलन र बिछोडका सुस्केरा l

1

साइँली,

नौ डाँडा पारी सपनै सपना छ रे 

इन्द्रेणी रंग भर्न पाइन्छ रे
आकाशको तारा झैं झिलिमिली
खुशी नै खुशी छ रे
जाम न साइँली हामी पनि बसम 
तेही डाँडा पारीको चौतारीमा
अनि संगै नाचम्ला सारंगीको भाकामा
तिमी थाके म काँध दिम्ला
म थाके तिमी साथ
जाम है ?

2

अलिकति शब्द म भर्छु

अलिकति आवाज तिमि भर 

अलिकति जीवन संगै जिउँला

अलिकतिको यो जीवनमा l

उड्दै भेट्दै फेरि उड्दै छुट्टिने

यो अचम्मको जीवन न हो

अलिकति मुस्कान म हाँस्छु 

अलिकति खित्का तिमी हाँस

अलिकति आँसु संगै झारौंला

अलिकतिको जीवनमा l

हिमाल पारी तिम्रो गाउँ होला

यो नदि वारीको केहि क्ष्रणको राउटे म बनम्ला

अलिकति साथ म दिन्छु

अलिकति हात तिमी थाम

अलिकति आकाश एउटै हेरौंला

अलिकतिको यो जीवनमा l

आज छुट्टिए के भयो र 

भोलि फेरि संगै बाँचौन्ला नी 

अलिकति आशा तिमि बुन 

अलिकति सपना म बुनम्ला

अलिकति बिछोड तिमि हाँस

अलिकति मिलन म कोरम्ला 

अलिकतिको यो जीवनमा l

अलिकति जीवन संगै बिताम्ला l

3

आज निन्द्रा पर्या छैन l 

शब्द नि फुर्या छैन l
केहि सोच्या नि छैन l
सोच्न सक्या नि छैन l

लाग्छ ठुलो संसारको एउटा सानो कुनामा
म आफुले आफ़ुलाईनै हेरिराछु
छक्क परेर l

न त दिमागमा केहि छ
न नै त मनमा
मात्र पल्लो त्यो घरमा
कुक्कुर भुक्या भुकेइ छ एक्कोहोरो
झ्याल नेरी जुनकिरी किरमिर किरमिर गरेजस्तै 

एउटा स्वाश भित्र तान्यो
अर्को फेर बाहिर
अन्धकार सहरलाई एकटक नियाल्नु परेको शालिक झैं
म अकस्मात लाटो बन्या छु
बोलौं त के बोलौं,
को संग l

अझै निन्द्रा पर्या छैन आज l

4

प्राय जसो म एकटक कम्पुटर इस्क्रिन मैं टोलाऊँछु 

केहि नसोची एकटक 

एउटा तस्बिर 

अनि अर्को हाँसो 

केहि पर्खाई

अनि केहि चोट 

अहिलेको लागि एति नै हो मेरो जिन्दगीको मधुर रोमान्स 

मन भुल्याउने बाटो l

5

म ब्युझनु भन्दा ठिक अघि 
उनले मलाई सोधिन 
"सपना पारीको को यो अर्ध-सत्य राम्रो 
कि सपना वारी को त्यो पूर्ण बास्तविकता ? "

जवाफ दिनै नपाई म ब्युझेछु,
अब खै कुन चैं लाई सपनामा भनुँ
र कुन चैं लाई विपना
दुवै संसार जिउञ्जेल उति नै वास्तविक छन्
मात्र यति हो,
 संसारका धेरै नियमहरु छन्,
र संसारमा सायद भौतिकताको मात्र जित हुन्छ,
सायद हामीलाई यो असत्य सत्य लाग्छ
तर आखिर, के नै फरक पर्छ र,
चेतनशील मनका यी प्रतिबिम्बहरु पनि
कति सत्य छन्, कसलाई नै थाहा छ र !
र खै कुन चैं लाई सपना भन्ने
र कुन चैं लाई बिपना

यति मात्र बुझ
खोलाको बिचमा, किनारमा हैन, मात्र हामी छौँ
मात्र "हामी"
र किनारा-बिहिन यो खोला सत्य-असत्य जे भएनी
मात्र तिमी-र-म को यो समागम सत्य छ
हो मात्र "हामी" सत्य छौँ
र मात्र त्यहि सत्य राम्रो छ

6

निलो आकाश, इन्द्रेणी, अग्ला हिमाल, जंगल, उडिरहेका चरा-चुरुंगी, 

रंगी-विरंगी फुल, अनि सिमसिमे पानि मा भिज्दै हिंडेका बटुवाका अन्जान मुस्कान
अनि अरु धेरै कुरा हरु,
राम्रा देखिन्छन, धेरै नै राम्रा l
मात्र जब तिम्रो ओठमा मुस्कान रसाउँछ l

तिमी हाँसे संसारै राम्रो
रिसाए संसारै उदासिन l

उसको र मेरो अचम्मको सम्बन्ध छ

उसको र मेरो अचम्मको सम्बन्ध छ
फेसबुकमा पोस्ट गर्नका लागी बाहेक, न नै त म उसको पूजा गर्छु, न नै त प्रार्थना ..
उ पनि मलाई न देखे जस्तो गर्छ, चिल्याक्स भएर फ्रेम मै रमाउछ

संसारमा भोकाएका, दुख पाएका कति छन् कति, 
जाडोले कठ्यान्ग्रीएका, गर्मिले पाकेका, तिर्खाएका, छटपटीएका
कति आमा रोएका छन्, अनि कति छोराछोरी
तर बाल मतलब उ एकटक छ, बित्तो न बिग्रदो

संसार भरि का नाना थरि का समाचार सुन्दा देख्दा
उस प्रति को मेरो बेवास्ता ठिकै हो जस्तो लाग्छ,
तर सानो भन्दा सानो पीडा हुँदा नि उसैको नाम लिन्छु,
शायद एक्लो हुँदा म उसै संग बोल्छु,
अनि उसैको आवाज सुटुक्क सुन्छु, आफ्नै अन्तर्मनबाट
''टेन्सन न ले यार, सब ठिक हुन्छ"

म भगवान हुन खोजेका मान्छे लाई देख्छु, गली गली घर घरमा
अनि मान्छे भैसकेका भगवानलाई फ्रेम र मुर्तिमा
तेइ नि रुने मान्छे रोइरा छन्, हास्ने मान्छे हाँस्या-हास्यै
कम्प्लिकेटेड समाजको दुर्दशा देखेर वाक्क लाग्छ
तर उ चिल्याक्स भएर फ्रेम मै रमाउछ
अनि मेरो अन्तर्मनबाट सुटुक्क भन्छ,
"साले टेन्सन न ले न यार, सब ठिक हुन्छ"

अनि म मुसुक्क हाँस्छु
उ पनि मुसुक्क मुस्काउछ साबिक कै पोजमा
न नै त मलाई भगवान बन्नु छ
न नै त उसलाई मान्छे
उसको र मेरो अचम्मको सम्बन्ध छ l

You are an exception

Imperfect was, and is, my kingdom, with memories of broken past,
and fake lights of illusions, that I thought were my stars.

Roads where I walked alone, how they tore me apart,
with disbelief, doubts and grief, that no longer I could trust or walk.

Yet, through the tunnel perhaps, light then seemed somewhere near,
slowly healed by and for a change, an exception surfaced clear.

You are an exception.This is all about you, yes, you.

You are an exception, you bombard the affirmation,

and now, I've begun to see the real inside you
without the veneer of pseudo expressions.

These twists and turns, however, 

still conspire redefining and ruining my kingdom.

Yet, in faith, blind one perhaps, I continue to hail, 'You are an exception'.

Would these bewildering roads end here?
Or somewhere far still lies the world unreal?
For my eyes closed, with the chosen blinkers, 

I know, "You are an exception".

For I've chosen to see the real inside you
without the veneer of pseudo expressions,

or perhaps, with my presumptuous real presence with you,
contriving to not adapt with my layers, 

I would wear these blinkers, and I would walk the road through the tunnel.

But I've now crossed the stars to rename my kingdom, 

to hail you loud, and clear,

'You are an exception'.

'Through the corridor of Dreams'

Scene 1:

Then, she preferred the last row,
uncaring, stone faced; and to let go?
Yeah, it was strange, was it dumb
how our friendship appeared all that numb.
Then, I screamed, shouted at my own soul,
'See, I yelled at you, be NOT so close, to love, your love'

Scene 2:
Dark mystery of someone been killed;
A never ending game of politics,
a corrupt typist; and his wife.
The Savior asked, "where did you choose to hide, and why?"
She happily showed her golden teeth,
and a blank reply.
In a van? He discloses his motive,
to wipe her tears, bring back her life,
Suddenly, the van stops by a sea;
Savior thrown, stabbed by the wife;
a dark mystery leaves behind, of deception.

Scene 3:
Then at the gate, I was informed,
by a close friend in college uniform,
'' HE will be home, today, with bags full of surprise''
How on earth, in disbelief, raced my bike;
A little far, blind; trapped in trance
I heard the shout, someone on my back.
''See there! STOP, it's almost near!''
And, the crash, the sudden blank, Father!

Scene 4:
Deep sleep, undisturbed for hours;
The doorbell rang to break them all;
I rushed in anger and tore apart my door,
I saw Him standing dead and cold.
How I wished he had his stories and reasons
and, why the old guest was long not driven.
I didn't speak; the guest didn't blink
A big pause, pitch silence, and I went back to sleep.
Or let's say, I pretended to, in relief, disbelief and hate.
Chose not to speak, tired, ill, and probably we were long dead.
My Father, yes, he, stayed by my side.
Was I happy ?
Oh, poor, I was swinging up and swinging down as he played,
all those good old poems he would write for me,
my best ever song my mother would sing for me,

And, the End.

Out of the translucent boundaries of dream, as I woke up, wondered
if my stories were real, for a moment, it was all true and near.
Now, should I hate that they never did exist or could they be dear?
A faint reply from within, not so clear,
'I don't know'.

'I don't know, why they've been killed, or deceived

How I wouldn't know, and why ? 

Why would I pretend to have not known the reasons,
and why should I now choose to write?

Why has it never been all real?
Her image, His life, and my love,
and, all the fairy faces that I always see,
'Through the corridor of Dreams', every night.

Nov 6, 2013

Rant

To tell you the truth, I am walking through a path that doesn't feel exciting, and while I know this is temporary, I have begun to question the direction that I am heading to, towards that mirage.

This might very well be the effect of festive season where the bereft presence of not being surrounded by caring parental hands often amplifies to the extent of haunting me with effervescent dream of being pampered by my grandma. Not saying I want to go back, for I have got nowhere to be back. Lucky are those who have got a place called home.

I try undermining bereaved feelings like these usually by focusing on something seemingly important. For now, that has been GRE. I have spent my Dashain learning new vocabulary words, and while most of my friends are busy posting pictures of all kinds everywhere, I am yet struggling with another new word, and ditto with Mathematics. Now there is something apathetic about Mathematics and GRE questions, they are no way empathetic, and no matter how much I spend my time with them, they will always stand stranger. But, I suppose, I'm quite used to it, be it Mathematics or anything or anyone else.

I am, however, no way frustrated or discouraged. I will definitely do what I got to do, for this is something I have committed myself into and there's no way I am getting distracted.

What disturbs me is the unfair rule of nature. This discrimination often validates in the form of undeserving people getting things that I have often rightfully desired to have, take my atrophy cursed upper-limb for example, there's nothing I can do to rectify for the negligence of my biological parents, but even without my fault I would have to carry it for my lifetime while also ensuring that I stand strong in my goal. I will. But I would have appreciated more if the universe had cared to confer me with what I deserved more, rather than imposing its burden on me. Wouldn't it be more meaningful and relevant for someone who believes in the theory of choice to really have a choice in his life? For now, the way I have been tricking myself to conform to this life, it all seems antithetical.

But care less, I am pretty strong, and I have raised myself with great care and motivation - I've been a good father for myself, encouraging myself, admiring for all my successes, mollifying my bereaved soul at times of loneliness and failures, and at times turning stringent to my tangential tendencies. This dual role of imparting and receiving uni-linear stream of care and support makes me tired sometimes, and that pretentious image on the mirror feels idiotic. No matter how contriving I've been in my effort to hide the truth, I have always missed mother, and I have always believed that I deserved to have her to feel proud of me, to be my side to be my strength when I sometime shed tears out of helplessness, and to celebrate my perfect GPA scores. Had she been here, she would perhaps glorified me, exaggerate my diligence, like every other mother would do, and be wary of my time tables, especially, about how careless I have been about eating. Every time I sip in a glass of milk, I wonder, would it taste different to have been served by mom, the way they show in Bollywood movies?.

Now if you are thinking to send me all those text heavy greetings of encouragement and motivation, I don't need that. How do you think I have carried myself all these years? I am motivated enough, or else, how do you think have I come this afar, and why do you think my plans are for.  Except for the one thing that I have always wanted from anyone, to be the one to listen and understand. Rather, I often end up doing that instead with everyone I try getting close to. Be alarmed, I am not complaining, not saying that I am the most unfortunate or the most indigent one. I am very aware of how lucky I have been in the way I have been conferred with this opportunity to study and live in a costly city like Kathmandu. I am cognizant of the fact that people are dying for trivial reasons, for not having food to eat, for not having clothes to wear and I am extremely fortunate. But sometime, being a human, I suppose, I too would love to express and expect nothing in return.

Will keep posted.

Midnight Rumination

We might have lived here for millions of years, walked, ran or jumped in jest, been kings, slaves, crooks or sage, or the lion, bird or a snail, perished or preyed. Yet, all we have now is a remnant, this mere life, and a dream that appears big enough to chase. Enter another, this too might all be a void.

As I disappear every night into the abstract darkness, with futile attempt to understand the answer to the unanswerable, it seems to me that I must have been born a million times - with this consciousness in different identities. Why is it that I'm here again rambling in the incessant orbit of life? Much as absurd it might seem, a distant nonchalant version of me out there in the universe might just be laughing at me for my trivial ambitions.

Yet, do I have a choice?

Daily Notes: 25 Nov 2014

25th of November, Tuesday

I did nothing extraordinary today, except that I cleaned up my room. The chicken-gravy that I had set out to cook didn't turn up as good as expected. I guess it’s true that the best recipe doesn't guarantee the best taste.

I played the same movie thrice only to realize that I felt asleep while the actors were busy playing their part, well, I heard their voice in my dream – I don’t dream less adventurous, except for, my dreams always end abruptly without a conclusion – a reflection of my conscious part.

Well, the day’s still to end, and we are expecting a friend for a dinner tonight.

Take care World.

मेरो कथा |

मेरो कथा |


मेरो कथा त म आँखा चिम्म गरेपछिको संसारमा सुरु हुन्छ | सपनी को संसारमा |


सपनीको त्यो तोरीबारी जहाँ पहेंलो गैलंचा माथि र निलो आकाश मुनि म एउटा चिटिक्कको घर बनाउने कोशिस गर्दै छु |


म वरीपरि हेर्छु, 'आहा! कस्तो राम्रो दृश्य | ' बाटो पारिबाट एउटा छाँया उदाउँदै म भएतिर नै लम्कदै छ | जति जति त्यो छाँया म नजिक आउँदै छ, उति उति म भित्र नयाँ उत्साह, उमङ्ग अनि अनौठो खुशीको चलखेल सुरु हुँदैछ | उनको मुहारको त्यो दिव्य हाँसो, अनि जीवनलाई नै रनभुल्लमा पार्न सक्ने उसको त्यो खै कस्तो जादु, त्यो भरोशा अनि त्यो अनुपम स्वन्दर्यता, जुन स्वन्दर्यताको म शब्दमा वर्णन नै गर्न सक्दिन, त्यहि आकृति जसको मिठो बोलिले मेरो सपनी मा आएर सायद मलाई जीवन दर्शनको पाठ नित्य सिकाउँछ, अनि भन्छ, "खुशी हुन सिक " | चलचित्रमा देखाएझैं म आफ्नो हात फिजाऊँछु, सायद उसलाई अंगाल्न, अनि भन्न "म खुशी छु, धेरै खुशी " |  सायद उनि पनि दगुरेझैं लाग्छ, उनको गतिशील प्रतिविम्वले नयाँ संसार बुनेर म तर्फ हेरें झैं, म उनलाई एकटक हेरिरहन्छु |  उनि सुन्दर छिन् कि यो तोरीबारी, अहँ, म भन्न सक्दिन |  यो  सपना हो कि विपना ,म यो नि भन्न सक्दिन | के यो सम्भव छ र ? 

एक्कासी उनको पाइला रोकिन्छ | लाग्छ उनि चलायमान रहेको त्यो नदी एकाएक जमेको छ | उनको परेली मात्र पनि चलेको देख्दिन म |  


मुर्ति झैं उभिएको उनको प्रतिविम्व हाँसो बिना चुपचाप छ, अनि कति भिन्न भाव मुहारमा, सायद यो उनको मनको अवाज होला, "सपनीमा धेरै न मात्तेउ, आफुलाई सम्हाल्न सिक, धेरै न उड, आखिर जमिन मा टेक्नै पर्छ | " अनि मेरो मनले सुटुक्क जवाफ दिन्छ, "केहि बेर त हो नि सपनी मै उड्ने, अनि सपनी मै नयाँ सपना देख्ने, सायद जमिनले हार मानि हाल्ला कि  "| त्यसपछि, उनको मनको आवाज़ खै किन म सुन्न सक्दिन, अनि मेरो मन आफैं सँग बोल्न थाल्छ, "विस्तारै विस्तारै म ब्युँझनेछु, अवस्य |  विस्तारै | "

उनि रोकिन्नन अब, तर उनको र मेरो विचको दुरी घट्दैन, बरु झन् झन् बढ्दै जान्छ, सायद उनि पछाडी फर्किएकी छिन्, कि सायद म टाढा, थहाछैन |


अनि एक्कासी म ब्युँझंछु, "धन्न, ओहो ! कस्तो सपना |" केहि बेर चुक अन्धकारमा टोलाएपछि, फेरि त्यो तोरीबारीको माया लागेर आउँछ, अनि आँखा चिम्म गर्छु फेरि त्यहीं पुग्न | पहेंलो गलैंचा झैं लाग्ने तोरीबारीमा त म फेरि पुग्छु, अनि त्यहि बनिरहेको चिटिक्कको घर छेउ पनि, तर उनि कतै छैनन् | अनि बल्ल पो थहा पाउँछु, उनि विनाको तोरीबारी कति उजाडलाग्दो र नरमाइलो अनि स्वन्दर्यहिन |


सायद, फेरि ब्युँझेकै राम्रो |


Gopal Trital
14 Dec'13

म ब्युझनु भन्दा ठिक अघि

म ब्युझनु भन्दा ठिक अघि

 

म ब्युझनु भन्दा ठिक अघि
उनले मलाई सोधिन
"सपना पारीको को यो अर्ध-सत्य राम्रो
कि सपना वारी को त्यो पूर्ण बास्तविकता ? "

जवाफ दिनै नपाई म ब्युझेछु,
अब खै कुन चैं लाई सपनामा भनुँ
र कुन चैं लाई विपना
दुवै संसार जिउञ्जेल उति नै वास्तविक छन्
मात्र यति हो,
 संसारका धेरै नियमहरु छन्,
र संसारमा सायद भौतिकताको मात्र जित हुन्छ,
सायद हामीलाई यो असत्य सत्य लाग्छ
तर आखिर, के नै फरक पर्छ र,
चेतनशील मनका यी प्रतिबिम्बहरु पनि
कति सत्य छन्, कसलाई नै थाहा छ र !
र खै कुन चैं लाई सपना भन्ने
र कुन चैं लाई बिपना

यति मात्र बुझ
खोलाको बिचमा, हो किनारमा हैन, मात्र हामी छौँ
मात्र "हामी"
र किनारा-बिहिन यो खोला सत्य-असत्य जे भएनी
मात्र तिमी-र-म को यो समागम सत्य छ
हो मात्र "हामी" सत्य छ
र मात्र त्यहि सत्य राम्रो छ

 

Gopal Trital

27 July'13

 

रुझेकी चरी ..

सायद ज्वरोको सुरमा होला, आज निकै अबेर सम्म सुतिएछ, र जब आँखा खुल्यो आकाश अझै रोइरहेको रहेछ | आज फेरि के पीर परेछ कुन्नि आकाशलाई | विचरा आकाश आफ्नो दुखः भुल्न टोल टोलमा लर्बरिन्दै हिंडेका जंड्याहा जस्तो मात्तिन पनि त सक्दैन, जाओस त कहाँ जाओस |
 
उठ्न मन लागेन | निधार छामे ज्वरो हटिसकेछ, तर जिउ आलस्य नै थियो, त्यसमाथि अझै सुतौं सुतौं लाग्ने मौसम l झ्यालको पर्दा उघारें, अनि मेरो छेउमै टोलाइरहेको मेरो प्रिय cam लाई नियालें | यत्तिकैमा मेरो आँखा पल्लो घरको झ्याल तिर गयो |

आज पल्लो घरकी चरी एक्लै परिछिन, पानीमा निथ्रुक्कै भिजेकी अनि अहिले ओत लागेकी | उसमा र म मा करिब १० मिटरको दुरी थियो तर म उसको मर्म यहीं मेरो भित्रि मनमा महसुस गर्न सक्थें | आज घर बाहिर पानि छेल्न चुपचाप बसेकी त्यो चरी सायद पानीमा भन्दा आँशुमा धेरै भिजेकी थिई, हरेक दिनको कलहलाई आज बिहानी पखको झरीले नसुनिने तुल्याइदिएको थियो, सायद त्यसैले होला म अबेर सम्म सुत्न सकेको, नत्र घाम झुल्किन साथ उनको चित्कारले मलाई ब्यूँझाउने गर्थ्यो |





अकस्मात चरी र मेरो आँखा जुध्यो, उसले मलाई केहि भन्न खोजे जस्तो, अनि म त्यसै टोलाए जस्तो, हाम्रा आँखा एक आपसमा अल्झिए | ति चरी र म एक आपसको बास्तबिकताबाट पूर्णत अपरिचित तर उसले केहि भने जस्तो लाग्यो "तिमि कति भाग्यमानी, तिमिले त यो पानीमा भिज्नुपर्या पनी छैन, अनि ओत लाग्ने आफ्नै कोठा, न्यानो ओछ्यान अनि कसै संग निर्भर नभईरहनुपर्ने कस्तो आनन्दको जीवन | "

हो उसको मन को त्यो भाव, उसको आँखा बाट देखिएको त्यो संसारमा यसो हेर्दा, म चैं चरा अनि उनि चैं पिंजडामा कैद निर्जीव शालिक देखिनु स्वाभाविक हो र त्यत्तिनै स्वाभाविक हो मेरो आँखाले देखाउने यो संसार त्यो संसार जस्तै नहुनु  | तर आज उसको रुझेको आँखामा सायद मेरो आफ्नै बास्तबिकता पनी लुकेको छ, सायद उसको आँखा रुझेकै छैन, मेरो आँखा पो रुझ्या हो कि ?

 

 

बिहानीको चिया ओछ्यान मै आइपुग्यो, पानि अझ बेस्सरी दन्किन थाल्यो, तर उसलाई देखिन...सायद उडिसकिछे | "जान्छु पनि भनिन, कति निस्ठुरी रैछ" म मनमनै बर्बराउन थालें l तर मलाई आश्चर्य चैं भएन |बानि परिसकेको छ, उनि भन्दा पनी धेरै नजिक भएकी अर्की चरी अस्ति त्यसै गरि टाढा भैसकेकीछिन्, त्यसैले यो कुनै नौलो कुरा भने हैन |  तर, यस्तो ठुलो झरीमा कता गईन् होली ?

एक छिन् पछि उसको चित्कार सुनिन्छ "म उड्न चाहन्छु मात्र उड्न "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You are not alone, My Son"

03 August '13

Malekhu

On my way to Manakamana; somewhere at Malekhu, our bus stopped for a small break. While almost all my fellow passengers were busy ordering food for themselves, my eyes were searching for something that I always search for when I hold my cam - human emotions.

And, there was this family, of strangers, playing with their cute little child. So, I got that thing, something that my cam wants to click.... something that my lens is quite accustomed to, to translate human emotions into pictures.

Father - Child relationship.

Oh, father-child relationship is something that can't be described in words, and how special is that feeling of being cared by a father, that secured feeling of holding his guiding fngers, that unconditional bond, and that precious pat on your shoulder and his divine voice "You are not alone, My Son. "

It's unfortunate though, that my own relationship with my father was soured by the passage of time, and now, only a fringe glimpses of long-lost past memories do visit me sometimes, which I quickly choose to hide deep inside a treasure box held safely in an unexplored layers of my heart.

Now, I can't change my past; I no longer wish to judge who was wrong and why he chose to change his direction into an anonymous land of uncertainty where I could never step in, and why he could never step back.

Now, all I can do is try and be a good man, be someone who can then be a good father, and someone who would not choose to step into an anonymous land of uncertainty leaving behind his little child in hopes and tears.

Yes, someday, I WILL be a good father, to share a life-long bond of father-child and I promise I would never be away from my child, which would probably then help me recover from my past - something that still haunts me at times, that I still wish to have him beside me to give a soft pat on my shoulder - "You are not Alone, my Son".

 

A Part of me....

Video Post....

Poem: A part of me...

And as I walk into the light,
Darkness follows quietly behind.
...
A part of me, wants to move ahead
A part of me, then, warns n rests
A part of me, denies, revolts and jumps
A part of me, then, wants to escape and run

And, then, I choose to close my eyes,
And, see your face with a bright smile
And, as if I'm pulled out of here,
I find myself more alive.

I wish, I cud remain closed and blind
And, ignore the facts of cruel life
A part of me, then, wants to believe
A part of me, then warns and leaps
A part of me, then, loves to dream
A part of me, then, silently weeps.

And, then, I choose to close my eyes,
And, see your face with that bright smile
But, I know this light, is soon to fade
And, so would I

अन्धभक्त शालिक र बिचरो दैव

आकाश तिर एक्कोहोरिएको नजर

अनिश्चित अँध्यारोमा टोलाउँदै फेरी

सायद उज्यालो संगै

त्यो दैब हरायो कि भनि

धेरै बेर टोलाई आफ्नै सुरमा;

बिन्ति हो कि आशामा

टील पील टील पील ताराहरु,

ऊ जस्तै अनिश्चित भुमरीमा

न त हिड्न नै सक्ने,

न नै त भाग्ने

टाँसिएका, फुटेका,

यत्र-तत्र छरिएका,

जीवन सहितको निर्जीव

यही शालिक झैं





चौडा सडक,

अनगिन्ति पाइला

अनि सपनै सपनाको लहर

त्यहि मानब-सागरको बिच्चमा

शालिक टक्क अडिएको छ

अटल, केही बोल्ने इच्छा

तर सामर्थहीन

संसार हिडिरहेको छ,

दिन र रातको तालमेल मिलाउदै

तर ऊ त्यही कोलाहलमा,

बर्षौं देखि बाँचेकैछ

हलचल बिनाको जीवन,

उदाउँदो सुर्य संगै बिउझंदै

जून सँग झस्कंदै, आत्तिदै,

अनि रातभर शीतमा लतपत

मानौं शालिक रोइरहेकोछ,

तर भक्कानो फुटाउन असफल

ऊ अझै मग्न छ

प्रार्थनामा,



हो उसलाई शालिक भईरहने केहि रहर छैन

निस्सासिएकोछ

चिच्च्याउन चाहन्छ,

छटपटीएको उकुसमुकुस,

ज्वालामुखी फुटे झैं

रुन, हाँस्न, हो दगुर्न पनि,

अनि दङ्ग पर्दै बोल्ने रहर

उसका पनि त भावना छन्,

बेदना अनि पिडा,

पिंजडामा कुण्ठित मुटु मै पनि

यही सपनाले त उभिएकै छ,

भासिएकै धर्तीमा क्रमस टुक्रदै

उफ़्रन कहाँ सक्छ र,

मात्र आफ्नो विवसताको पानै-पाना

प्रार्थना कोरी

त्यही निभ्दै बल्दै, लुकामारी खेल्ने,

टील पील टील पील तारा झैं

अझै अडिग, नदेखिने दैवको आशमा,

तर दैव सँधै निष्ठुरी



मान्छेहरु शालिक झैं,

शालिकलाई नियाल्न खोज्छन

तस्विर खिचाउँदै, रमाउँदै,

अनि केहि पछि छुट्टीन्दै

मान्छेका निर्जिव आँखा,

स्वार्थ नै स्वार्थ मा डुबेका

बुझ्न असमर्थ

शालिकका भावनाका लहर



शालिक दिक्क छ,

किन फुट्दैन उसको स्वर,

मान्छे देखि वाक्क

ऊ त आखिर शालिक न हो,

ढुंगै ढुंगाको,

बाँधिएको मुख र ओठ

तर अचम्म,

मान्छेका ओठ पनि साँघुरिदैछन्,

निर्जिव उसका स्वर



मान्छेहरु पनि बिस्तारै शालिक हुँदै छन्,

शालिक भने अनविज्ञ छ

धेरै थरि मान्छे,

अर्कै थोरै किसिमका मान्छेका कटपुतली बनि,

त्यही धागोमा नाच्दै

चावी भरेर छोडेको खेलौना जस्तै,

नाच्छ जब सम्म त्यो शोषक चाहन्छ

पैसा नै खान्छ,

पै'सै देख्छ,

अनि पै'सैकै वारीपरि नाच्छ,

कालो मुस्लो धुँवा, धुलै धुलो अस्तव्यस्त,

दुर्गन्ध अनि पानि विनाका बगर,

दैव ताली पिट्छ

पाप र धर्मको हिसाब मिलानमा व्यस्त

अनि बेअसर, मस्त छ

आफ्नै मन्दिर, मस्जिद र चर्चमा



हो दैव पनि बाँच्न सकेनछ,

झोक्र्याएर,

रनभुल्लित,

अनि निर्जीव झैँ

अँध्यारो कालकोठरीमा कैद,

अब त मन्दिर पनि फुट्दैछ

अनि मस्जिद पनि

चर्च डलरको भाउ बिकेछ

अनि साधु लुटेराको भेषमा लुट्दैछ

अर्कै थरिका ती मान्छे कै पिंजडामा,

दैव आफैं निस्सासिएको छ

पागल झैं हिसाब गर्छ,

दङ्ग पर्छ र

झसङ्ग झस्किन्छ



दैव बिचरो शक्तिहीन,

मान्छेका स्वार्थका अगाडी

शालिक बनी;

आकाश तिर एक्कोहोरिएको नजर

अनिश्चित अँध्यारोमा टोलाउँदै फेरी

टील पील टील पील ताराहरुजस्तै

अनिश्चित भुमरीमा

न त हिड्न नै सक्ने,

न नै त भाग्ने

टाँसिएका, फुटेका,

यत्र-तत्र छरिएका,

जीवन सहितको निर्जीव

यही शालिक झैं

दैव रुन खोज्छ,

मान्छे रोकिंदैन,

ऊ नाचेकै छ अझै पनि

चावी भरेर छोडेको खेलौना जस्तै

ती अर्कै थरीका मान्छेका ताल मा



शालिक भने अझै अनविज्ञ छ,

बिचरो दैव को नै आशामा

प्रार्थनामा मग्न

आफ्नै सुरको विन्ती,

अन्धभक्ति मा

त्यही दैव लाई पर्खदै

निस्सासिन्दै

आत्तिदै

अनि रुझ्दै



देव भने मृत्युसय्यामा

लडेको छ,

रोईरहेको छ,

पश्चतापमा,

मान्छे किन बनाएँछु भनि

 

 

Year 2012 in Review: February '12

My life is not about "I miss you"... My life is about "I'm free, thank you" (31 Jan'12)

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So it was a wild night yesterday...err. i mean a night in the wild...surrounded by tiger, rhinoes, fox, n every wild animal you can imagine.... and we were enjoying the bonfire using every piece of stuffs we could burn...Thank you Chetna Bhandari di for such a treat :) and thank you Yogisha Bhandari for visiting us, though on phone... :) (03 Feb'12)

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It's been a month without Television. Din't know Television was such a waste of time, or is it? Well, this is how I console myself.. I miss 'Man Vs Wild', 'I shouldn't be Alive', and many other shows... I'm missing those 5.1 surround woofers banging the music hard in my room... In this new city, however, 've found Radio programs quite interesting, and my poor mobile tries its best to create the woofer effect... I miss the luxeries of being at the hometown... now I'm enjoying the luxury of being a tourist; a working tourist in fact! (04 Feb'12)


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I love to be criticized but I hate to be faked! (10 Feb'12)


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उमेर, पद, योग्यता, धन र भाषा मात्र एक असल गुरुको परिभाषा हैन ll

एक गरिब रिक्सावालाले पनि सायद मलाई कसैले दिन नसक्ने ज्ञान दिन सक्छ.. हाम्रा वरिपरी सायद धेरै असल र महान मानवहरु हुन सक्छन तर हामी उनीहरुलाई मानवका रुपमा नभई उनीहरुको उमेर, पद, योग्यता, धन, परिवार र नागरिकताका आधार मा चिन्न खोज्छौं र त्यसैकै आधारमा मात्र उनीहरुको बिचारलाई उपयुक्त वा अनुपयुक्त ठान्दछौं l    (12 Feb'12



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Happy Valentines' day for those celebrating.... but I still don't know why the heck do they say Valentines' day; his day?; and who the heck is this Valentine... Sorry, love birds, I have some other priorities than to google search about 'it'....

Happy 14th February for those who are not celebrating.... we still believe in love, we celebrate every 365 days of our years in love... (Valentines' day; 14 Feb'12)


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When roads seem ending; and the walking never dies,

A new path awaits to get discovered; with dreams, hopes and love. (15 Feb)

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I wish I were an Eagle; I could fly high in the sky;

I feel there would have been few obstacles to restrain the flight if I were flying rather than walking...

Destinations; keep pulling me hard; harder than the gravity... (19 Feb'12)