A heart

A heart

A ballad I sing to you today,

Of misery, grief, pain and tears,

About life.. and about death..

....

With its heavy flapping wings of grey,

Fear covered the world to darkness infinite

Ignominious, suffocating and depressing

There was a heart

This was once gay with pride

Bright were the feelings

Moments with flying colours

That pride outshined the world of blackness

And there was bliss undefined!

BUT,

Today..

That heart drowns in an ocean of tears

Throbbing and twitching it chokes in a dungeon

The dungeon, a body without a soul

A living corpse with the remnants of its broken dreams

The soul, somnolent and almost vanishing

Life was a deep threat for it,

Living- the greatest curse!

Crying had become a habit.

However,

Tears were scarce now

As long it had been since that heart wept

So long that tears dried!

Instead blood dripped out of it

Alas! The little heart all scarred

With unfulfilled promises and utopias

Broke one day and death arrived

Dressed in black. Like in night mares

That had blurred ghosts and graveyards;

That had devils and hell in it.

Still...

What would be the difference,

To abandon this hell to accept death

To free that heart of all its sufferings

Set it into salvation, solitude of happiness!

Because, a body without a soul is ambiguous,

And a heart without happiness, hostile!

For even a clock without hand is useless

So what use is a soul without a reason to live?

But. No,

Death hated to kiss it

And life was unfriendly too

It was darkness and disease, searing winds and downpours,

Shadows creeping on the everyday of it,

Flames of guilt scorched it black

Pain...

No one noticed, no one knew,

Its reminiscence was still o’er there

Just a drop of love

A wisp of happiness

And the darkness could be ditched

Just to smile again Oh what miracle could it be!

The Sims Freak

I have always been a computer game freak. However I am different from others in that I am not a fan of computer games. Nonetheless, I am such a computer game freak who gets stuck to the screen once they start.  It is not that I am an excellent computer game player; it is just that I get hooked.  the case is that I don’t play well and when the game ends, I tell myself that I will play better this time and start the game again but the process goes into a vicious circle and my eyes get pasted on the computer screen to this extent that I won’t notice when the sun had risen or when it set.

Since last month I am occupied with an online social game on Facebook called “The Sims Social”. Before Sims came along, I was a loyal facebooker. But after I have Sims on my plate these days, I hardly ever scroll my homepage on Facebook!!!

The motto of The Sims Social is: Build a home. Build a relationship. Build a life....The game involves living a virtual social life. The virtual person that we must raise is called a Sim. The Sim lives in a virtual town called Little Havens. We must keep the sim happy, well-fed, clean and relaxed. At this point our sim is inspired and can earn more simoleons. Our house value goes up when we buy new stuff. We will be shifted to a better street of the town when we have higher house values.... OK.. lots of talk about the game.. this blog is not about the tutorial of the game.. so let’s focus on something that came on my mind.

Gwen Lewis (My Sim)

In comparison between “Gwen Lewis” ( my sim) and my real life form “Rashmee Silwal”(me ;) ), my sim is more successful in life. The real world involves a lot of turmoil, problems, mess and unnecessary stress. My real life form goes through hardships everyday but my sim has nothing to worry about when she is inspired. She works like a robot and earns like Bill Gates! She is a successful sim. She has a home with everything she wants in it. She has a lot of BFFs, a lot of close friends and even a few frenemies. She has a steady relationship. Overall she is a socialite. She is one lucky bastard who lives in a virtual heaven. To make my sim what she is, I have played my part well. I am not being witty but I have fed her even when I am hungry. I have kept her tidy even when I am being a slob in reality.

 The thing that makes every Sims player go on is because they want a larger house, better stuffs and want to have the best-Sims- life ever! This whim pushed me so far that my sim is the richest sim among my neighbours. In reality, I have become the Sims-guru for the newbie. LOL but it’s freaky. The only achievement my real life form acquired is a celestial new tag of “The Sims Freak”.

Being a sims-guru is a harder part to play. To be a player of that calibre, one must sacrifice food, water and sleep. It is an unholy Tapsaya in itself. Moreover, living two lives at once is conflicting. It’s like being Rajesh Hamal for one hour and being Rajnikant for another! Now, that’s a very conflicting part to play, isn’t it? If anyone can understand the situation, it is another sims freak or else Hannah Montana!!

Wrapping up, I only have to say that it’s just a game and every player will lose their loyalty at some point. I will too. May be after that I will be a loyal facebooker again, may be a different game patriot or may be an anti-gamer in all!!Whatever it is, if someone will ever ask me about a virtual life, I’ll always have that tinge of joy, the chill in my spine and the Sim’s loading music playing in my ears. It will be a game, a home  and a life that i always loved. And I will always remember that line:”Inspired. Earn more simoleons” it’s all the way from Sims to life.

Happy Sims Playing to all!..................

Rustic Red

Rustic RED

Rustic RED; My blood surges.

Hot. Flowing. Pulsating in my veins.

Expressing. Colouring the whites of my eyes.

Ruling. Defining the rage in my soul.

Rustic. It is Rustic RED.

                When the red sun pops out in the morning sky,

I am birth. I am victory.

When the red wine pours out exotic bottles,

I am rich, I am lax; I live.

When the red blood stains Earth with scars,

I am death. I destroy. I end.

                                

Being nobody

     There’s an undefined adventure in taking a galli in the city and walking alone. Have you ever done that? It’s a type of meditation for me, I walk and I notice that my eyes are everywhere.

                I notice a cute little girl with her cartoon printed school bag and her colorful tiffin bag clutched in one hand, walking to school. That girl must be in wishes to learn the rest of her alphabets. She must be three. She walks behind her mom her hand glued to the achal of her Ma’s sari. A vague nostalgia comes to my mind, a past my own when I used to be three tailing my mom everywhere.  The girl has a cute smile and pigtails with white ribbon-bows on each one. I miss my father, I miss the way he used to comb two bunches on my head on holidays, I miss the sweet glycerin on my lips he would put and tell me not to lick it away( which I secretly always did :P ). Ohhh!! What a life I have lived I thought and I walked away. I was somebody back then!

 It’s a fascination to walk in a Newar residence.  On those stone paved streets with towering houses on both sides of the street, anyone must feel like a tourist too deep in fascination with the Newari Culture. I myself looked like one. The heavy backpack on my back, water bottle in hand, and the guts to walk in some galli of Kathmandu on a July afternoon!! However, nothing was in vain; I was enjoying everything; people carving on wood, shops with all kind of shiny metal barrels, the jewelry shops after every 5 blocks in a Newari street, the smell of good food wafting out of the houses that have been squeezed in together and the wrinkled faced of the bajais concentrated on  spinning cotton wool  onto their charkha. And here I am walking, alone. In this street I am nobody. Among the thousands of people walking in Kathmandu I am just another walker with a question mark for a face.

                At last I end up on the main street again. It is a feeling of finding yourself again. What a relief!!! Then I walk again; this time I window shop and feel the weight of my empty wallet. My thoughts wander to that one day when I had had a need of weeping over all my broken dreams and assumptions and the-never-to be- true-fantasies. I wonder how many of these people walking here with me must have broken dreams; broken watches; broken finances; broken homes; broken marriages; broken relations. I walk and I wonder. Just right then comes a pitiful child with a limb twisted skywards. With the healthy limb, he waves an empty bowl towards me in plea for some spare coins I must have. And yet again that little guy makes me feel broken. More than offering him money I am in the sorrows of this harsh world and how lonely I feel. That empty bowl he waved at me reminds me of my empty dreams and I run away from that little guy, I run away as if he is some horror movie character and I never look back at him again!

                Finally I board a bus; I am nobody on this bus again. Like me, all these people in this bus with me must have places to go to. May be some have a happy place to go to and may be some have a sorrowful destination. I wish I could get on any bus and go to some place I have not seen. But then wishes are only to be wished for, some wise man told me some day. I calm myself and catch the butterflies of my wandering thoughts and put them back into my mind-box.  I choose a seat by the window and sit and watch the racing motorbikes as the bus moves out of the city.

At the next stop, the seat next to me gets occupied by a well dressed man. I try to fall asleep as the bus moves on. However my neighbor has intentions of playing a game on his shiny iPhone, and with the familiar sounds I could bet he was playing Angry Birds. And then we drove on, me with my broken plans of falling asleep and my seat partner with his frail attempts of breaking glass and wood to kill pigs for dinner tonight! He was desperate!

                As I sat there trying to look as if the scenery that I had looked upon the millionth of time interested me, the conductor came asking for money. “28 kilo, KU”, I say. And pay my money. The guy sitting next to me seems fascinated by the fact. Later he starts talking and I find out that he is a pass out from the same university I am going to. He has been abroad and recently came back to get married. He says he won’t come back to Nepal. Says, there aren’t qualified jobs for people like him. He tells me how talented people are back at USA. He compares the degrading life here with the lives of Americans. He talks about the failing politics of our country and the never ending feuds of the government and tells me that people here are not disciplined. I nod, smile and make small talk to the gentle man. He tells me of his work. Then he takes his shiny iPhone out again and shows me pictures of the research laboratory he is currently working at. There are an array of bizarre equipments on the tables, which he says are for cloning, DNA separation and things I cannot remember at one shot. So there I was, stuck on my seat with a wise man for company.

                Then that person talks about my field. He asks me whether the industries in Nepal make Cetamols or not? I felt like hitting him on the face when he asked,” The industries here only do the packaging. Is it not so?” after explaining to him the various things I know about the pharmaceutical industries he spoke again. “Whatever you may say, I have noticed this after my eight year long stay in USA that the medicines there are so precise and effective.  After all even a paracetamol costs a dollar back there!!!”  I wished I had missed this bus. I desperately wish I had stepped out of home an hour late. He waves good bye and gets down at some stop. “All the best”, he says before going. And he gives me that null feeling of me being nobody.  I stare out of the window and in my inner vision I am caught between who I really am and who I wanted to be! My brain drowns in the noise from the honking cars speeding away. I am nobody! I am nobody! I am nobody! And I fall asleep