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A symbolic illustration of a person carrying passion interrupted by the wall of life

Is Passion Enough? Question from the Podcast Featuring Sudin Pokharel (DA69)

On July 22, 2025

In Blogging, Inspirational, Life, Musings, Opinion

Follow your passion!

How many times have you heard it? I have heard it thousands of times–sometimes in movies like 3 Idiots, sometimes in books, and countless times in motivational speeches and social media posts. Last week, I was listening to a podcast (YouTube video embedded below) featuring Sudin Pokharel (DA69) when a question popped up in my mind:

Is passion enough?

In this post…

Sudin Pokharel and his passion towards sports and media

I first saw Sudin Pokharel as a sports news reader on Kantipur TV during its establishing days. His hairstyle and delivery were different from the conventional news readers. Ten years old me was hooked. The five-minute sports news ended the whole news programme like icing on the cake.

Later Sudin Pokharel came with a sports programme, Scoreboard. It was even better than the news. The game analyses and player profiles were insightful. It increased my knowledge on football, cricket, taekwondo, tennis, and so on.

In the podcast, he explains how the sports news and Scoreboard was made. Waking up late hours for recording key moments of european football leagues, following players of various sports to create their profile, explaining and analysing games to make them more understable to audience, and so on show how passionate he was to his work. The pride in his voice when he explains all these is well deserved.

Hints at Toxic Work Environment

But Sudin Pokharel’s voice also exhibits pain. His passion did not help him financially. His face time on the sports decreased, and the programme was shortened. The organization for which he worked almost a decade did not show interest in retaining him. Sudin Pokharel does not blame anyone for it. “I could not make the management understand why sports his important,” he says. “Also, a common man used to be more interested in the political and economic state of the country rather than sports and players. Today, it might have been different. I was perhaps living in a wrong time.”

He also hints about politics within the organization. When he tells, “Some people were happy when I left because my wages could be split to two or three others,” tears came to my eyes. You give ten years to an organization and you have to leave in tears? Without proper farewell? What a toxic environment!

Passion towards hiphop music (Nephop) as DA69

“Ma yesto chhu” was a hit among youngsters those days. I didn’t understand rap, and honestly, I didn’t like the song, but it stuck. DA69 was one of the singers. I didn’t know he was the same guy who hosted the sports programme until I came across “Pahilo maya” and “She’s the bomb!” The latter, I believe, brought Nepalese hiphop to the mainstream. DA69 was a member of “The Unity” which gave numeous hit tracks.

Decline in Creativity

But then life happened. “When you are young, don’t have family and responsibilities,” he says, “that’s the time you can be more creative.” As life throws responsibilities, one is ocuupied with the thoughts of solving them. Art and literature are liabilities unless they are supporting you financially. In other words, practicality beats romanticism.

Not everyone can handle it

The dip in creativity means you start doubting yourself. Nothing in the creative journey prepares you for failure after reaching a summit in the career. The conflict between what you want to do and what you have to do creates a void. Those who are not ready for it drown themselves in depression and it may even lead to suicide.

This idea of why artists commit suicide just after being in peak was enlightening to me. It explains why they choose the path despite being loved by many. It also shows how vulnerable artists are. Their emotions make them creative, but the same emotions are also major liabilities.

Coming back

When Sudin Pokharel became financially stable, when he could bear the cost of his family, DA69 came back to the media. He came with new ideas for the media (although it got tanked) and he began creating music again. He could afford making music and recording them. His suppressed passion found its way out.

So, Is Passion Enough?

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Passion can bring success. Some people keep moving just because of the passion they have for things they do. For others, reality could knock them off. They may have to reorganize themselves, in which they may succeed or not.

As someone who has been through creative peaks and valleys and affected by responsibilities I feel it’s always better to have more than one options. So, maybe passion is not enough. But who am I too decide?

इन्टु मिन्टु लण्डनमा

By Sandeept

On May 4, 2023

In Blogging, essay, Nepal, Nepali, नेपाली

लोक सेवाको परीक्षा केन्द्र राखिएको एउटा स्कूल । अलि छिटै पुगेकाले यताउता गरिरहेको थिएँ । आँप(?) को रूखमुनि उभिएर अगाडिको ब्लकतिर हेरिरहेको थिएँ । एउटी सानी (सायद कक्षा एक या दुईमा पढ्ने) केटी झ्यालमा आइन् । उनी सँगै आए तीनचार जना अरु केटीहरू । “ओहो ! आज कति धेरै कति धेरै नौला मान्छेहरू !” उनीहरू भनिरहेका थिए । जिज्ञासा पनि थियो आफूआफू बीचमा, “आज के हो ? किन आएका यी मानिसहरू?”

हामी पनि त स्कूलमा नयाँ मानिस आउँदा यस्तै कुराकानी गर्थ्यौं नि ! “को आए ? किन आए ?” जस्ता प्रश्नले मन उथलपुथल हुन्थ्यो । जवाफ नपाउन्जेल आँखा कक्षा बाहिर डुल्थे । तर बाहिर हेर्ने अनुमति कहाँ हुन्थ्यो र ? गुरु, गुरुआमाहरूले थाहा पाउनुभयो भने त सजाय पनि हुन्थ्यो । कक्षामा पढाइ नभएका बेला (लिजर)मा मात्रै बाहिर हेर्न पाइन्थ्यो । त्यो पनि डराइ डराइ !

यी साना नानीहरूको पनि लिजर पो थियो कि ? नभए त शिक्षकले बाहिर हेर्न पक्कै दिँदैनथे । उनीहरूको क्रियाकलापले भने मलाई तोत्तोचानको याद दिलायो । “सन् १९३० तिरकी जापानी तोत्तो-चानको सन् २०२० को दशकका नेपाली नानीहरूसँग के सम्बन्ध ?” एक मनले जवाफ माग्यो । अर्को मनले भन्यो, “बालसुलभ चञ्चलता त जहाँ र जहिले पनि उस्तै हुन्छ, हैन ?” मनको वादविवाद चलिरहेकै बेला परीक्षार्थी मध्येकी एक महिलाले ती बालिकाहरूतिर हेरेर हात हल्लाइन् । जवाफमा सुरुमा झ्यालबाहिर हेर्ने अग्ली केटीले हात हल्लाई । म अनायास मुस्कुराएँ । उनीहरूले भने मलाई याद गरेनन् । केही बेर पछि तिनै साना नानीहरू म उभिएको ठाउँमा हेर्न थाले । मैले हात हल्लाएँ । उनीहरू लजाए । अघि एक अपरिचित महिलालाई सजिलै हात हल्लाएका नानीहरू अहिले एक अपरिचित पुरुषसँग भने लजाए । त्यसमा सायद डर पनि मिसिएको थियो कि ?

***

इन्टु मिन्टु लण्डनमा

हाम्रो बाबा पल्टनमा

स्कुलको पाले दाइ

पहिलो घण्टी बजाइदेऊ

टिनिनिनिनी… झ्याप्प

एकछिनपछि बच्चाहरूले गीत गाउँदै खेलेको सुनियो । नोस्टाल्जिक भइयो । यो गीतिखेल कति पुरानो हो थाहा छैन तर सानामा खेलेको याद अझै ताजा छ । सुगम पोखरेलको एउटा गीतमा पनि यो अट्यो । धेरै अघि नै बालबोलीमा बसिसकेको यो गीत अहिलेका केटाकेटी पनि यही गीत गाइरहेका छन् । केही वर्षपछि सायद मेरी छोरी पनि यो खेलमा सहभागी हुनेछिन् र सायद उनीपछिको पुस्ता पनि।

यति शक्तिशाली यो गीतिखेल कसले सुरु गर्यो होला ? कसरी फैलियो होला ? मन कल्पिन थाल्यो । कतिपय कुराहरु जीवनमा यसरी धुलिएका हुन्छन् कि तिनको सुरुवात कसरी भयो भन्ने कुरा कल्पना समेत गरिँदो रहेनछ । तर अब भने यो बालखेलको रचयिताबारे जान्न मन भयो । जान्न मन भयो इन्दु र मिन्टु को थिए ? कसरी लण्डन पुगे ? गीत गाउने बच्चाका बाबु पल्टनमा कसरी पुगे ? कुन पल्टनमा छन् अनि कहाँ लडाई गर्दैछन ? फर्किएर आउलान् कि नाउलान् ? जिउँदै आउलान् कि बाकसमा ?

मनमा आएका यी प्रश्नहरूको उत्तर भेटिएन । तर जवाफको अभावमा मन कहाँ शान्त भयो र ? यो त झनै छट्पटियो । अरू प्रश्नलाई थाती राखेर इन्दु र मिन्टु कस्ता थिए होलान् र कसरी लण्डन पुगे होलान् भनी कल्पिन थाल्यो । इन्टु मिन्टु सम्भ्रान्त वा लाहुरे परिवारमा जन्मिएका थिए कि ? कम्तीमा ४० वर्ष अघि गीत रचिएको थियो भने त्यो कालखण्डमा लण्डन जाने ल्याकत धनीमनी र बेलायती गोर्खा रेजिमेन्टमा सैनिक सेवामा भर्ती हुनेसँग मात्रै थियो । धेरै सम्पत्ति भएका तर ठूला व्यापार नभएका धेरै नेपाली परिवार बेलयात मात्रै होइन, अमेरिका, अस्ट्रेलिया र युरोपेली देशहरूप्रति आकर्षित हुने गरेको धेरै समय भइसकेको छ । उनीहरू यहाँ अवसर देख्दैनन् । अवसर भए पनि विदेशी मुद्रा साटेर आउने रकम र उताको जीवनशैलीको लालसाले गर्दा नेपालमा अडिन सक्दैनन् । पछि केही मध्यम वर्गीय परिवारका सदस्यहरू पनि यही सिको गर्दै उता पुगे । अहिले रहरले देश बस्नेको सङ्ख्या नगण्य छ ।

गीतिखेलका पात्रहरूका बाबाहरू पल्टनमा छन् । कुन पल्टनमा होलान् बाबा ? बेलायती गोर्खा पल्टनमा कि भारतको गोर्खा पल्टनमा ? सिंगापुरमा कि हङकङमा ? खाडीमा पसिना चुहाउँदै छन् कि ? कतै कुल्ली र दरबानको काम गर्दै मुस्किलले कमाइरहेका छन् कि ? गाउँघरमा पल्टने हुँ भन्दा मान बढ्ने भएकाले पल्टनमा छु भनेर ढाँटेका पो हुन् कि ? इन्टु मिन्टु जति सुरक्षित र सम्पन्न छैनन् कि ? सम्पन्न हुन पनि सक्छन् तर यी बाबाहरू सुन्दर भविष्य लागि ज्यान हत्केलामा राखेर श्रम बेच्न पुगेका पक्कै हुन् ।

हाम्रो पुस्ता केही हदसम्म “पल्टने” बाबाहरूले पालेका हुन् । तिनका छोराछोरीले पनि त्यही बाटो अँगालेका छन्। जुन सङ्ख्यामा देश छोड्नेको लर्को छ, त्यसले हामीलाई सङ्कटमा लाने निश्चित छ । तर पनि राज्य गम्भीर बनेको छैन। हुन त उसले जनतालाई विदेशमा बेच्ने नीति लिएको छ । उसका कान बन्द छन् । सुन्न तयार छैन युवा पुस्ताको क्रन्दन । युवा पुस्ता सरकारी सेवा प्रति पनि आक्रोशित छन् अनि निजी संस्थामा हुने श्रम शोषणले गलेका छन् । केही युवाहरू सरकारी जागिरको चौतारीमा आराम खोजिरहेका छन् । म आफैँ पनि त्यस्तो चौतारी खोज्दैछु । खोज सफल हुन्छ हुँदैन थाहा छैन तर यसले पनि सन्तुष्ट बनाउला जस्तो लाग्दैन । राजनीति र प्रशासनमा युवाहरूको दह्रो हस्तक्षेप नभई अहिलेको अवस्था परिवर्तन हुन सक्दैन । यद्यपि, नवपुस्तामा भरिएको निराशा समाधान नहुने हो कि भन्ने डर छ । यो अन्तत: देशका लागि नै घातक हुन सक्छ । यो अन्धकारको अवस्थाबाट उज्यालोतर्फ लाने शक्ति युवाहरूमै छ । हामीहरू संयमित, इमान्दार र लगनशील हुन चाहिँ आवश्यक छ ।

२०८०/०१/२५

Good Bye, Dear 70s!

By Sandeept

On April 14, 2023

In Blogging, essay, Musings, Nepal

Nepal was in turmoil when the 70s began. The first constituent assembly (CA) had died at the hands of our “visionary leaders” and the chances of getting a constitution that would “transform everything” were bleak. The election for the second CA took place on Mangsir 4, 2070, but it could not deliver on its promise.

The work on constitution only took place after the Gorkha earthquake of Baishakh 12, 2072. The 7.8 moment magnitude disaster killed 8,964 and injured 21,952 people. Thousands of people were displaced from their homes. The government had to take help from the international community to look for the lost, rehabilitate the homeless, and reconstruct the damaged structures. The need for financial aid was probably one of the factors that made our leaders work quicker on the constitution.

We finally got our seventh constitution on Ashoj 3, 2072. Although it wasn’t accepted in all the parts of the country, it gave hopes that it would change lives. It positively changed the lives of some marginalized people. But it did not bring the transformations the leaders said it would bring. Except on their lives, of course!

Federalism became a way to manage leaders, and it has failed to ignite any hope on youths. Decades of political instability has killed our hopes of economic change and political revolution, and more youths are fleeing the country. Despite having a large number of youth, we are turning into a country of the elderly. This issue will be even more serious in the 80s.

The 80s is arriving at a time of economic regression. The revenues have decreased, and we are spending more that we can earn. The NRB is seeking investment on bonds, economic activities are dying, and the government has decided to cut off social security. However, the government, economists and mainstream media are lying on our faces. Although we are losing trust on our institutions, we neither have courage not interest in fighting them. We are running from our problems, instead.

I think the 80s will be the last decade to “make or break” for Nepal. It’s high time we address the real issues and start solving them instead of denying or turning away.

Save Tri-Chandra

By Sandeept

On July 9, 2022

In Blogging, essay, History, Humanity, Humans and Humanity, Nepal, Nepali, Personal, Politics, Public Interest

Chandra Shamsher Jung Bahadur Rana inaugurated the Tribhuvan-Chandra (now called Tri-Chandra) College in 1918. After the inauguration, he supposedly said, “I dug a grave for the Ranas with my own hands.” What caused the downfall of the Ranas–the college or his division of Ranas into three classes–might have been debated by historians. What this statement shows, however, is the attitude of the rulers towards this educational institute.

Tri-Chandra has been ill for a long time. When I had written a poem, titled Shatabdi (Century), the condition of the original building (Ghantaghar) was already bad. The walls were rotting, peepal had sprouted in the cracks, and roofs were leaking. I used to call it a Ghost House. After the earthquake of April 2015, the laboratories of the Department of Geology had been shut down. Since then, the practicals have never been regular. The southern section of the building closer to the Jame Masjid collapsed last year. Ironically, the building which produces geologists who study earthquake and earthquake resistance technology has suffered such a fate!

Tri-Chandra College has always been a torch-bearer in Nepalese politics. The vicinity of Narayanhiti Palace and Singha Durbar as well as other centers of power may be one of the reasons. However, the impact of this college on politics was predicted by Chandra Shamsher himself. Tri-Chandra’s students have been part of movements that toppled the Ranas, the Panchayat, and the Shah dynasty. From talents and visionaries like Mahakavi Laxmi Prasad Devkota, Bal Krishna Sam, Dayananda Bajracharya, and so on to the present PM Sher Bahadur Deuba and popular leader Gagan Thapa (who are not doing that great, by the way), Tri-Chandra College has produced many personalities in the past.

The curse that has dragged Tri-Chandra College into this abyss is perhaps politics itself. The ones who used Tri-Chandra as ladders to gain power, probably don’t want the youth to come up. Perhaps, they see the rise of college as a grave to their political careers. If not so, why haven’t they done anything since the earthquake?

Some students somehow got united and conducted a march demanding to save Tri-Chandra. It touched me. How could I forget about the institute where I studied for four years? Why did I stop writing blogs about the state of the college? Why didn’t I join #SaveTriChandra campaign earlier?

I don’t know who is responsible for improving the condition of the college. I don’t know if the college, university, or the government should work towards saving the college. What I do know is that the current students and the alumni all can help the college. A lot of us can provide financial and technical support. If not, we can at least raise our voices. Let’s do something, please! Let’s save Tri-Chandra!

***You can read the Nepali version here.***

What’s the Point? (The Last Part)

By Sandeept

On February 5, 2022

In My Story

Pointless

It took me a while to get to the stage, find the CD player and run the CD. Meanwhile, my act grabbed attention of some of the people around. They kept asking what I was doing. I was too overwhelmed to say anything adding to the fact that I was as clueless as they were.

All the chit chats stopped as Bishwas’s recorded voice greeted us. “Good evening, my guests! First of all, let’s applaud the one who found this recording.”

There was a brief period of silence. “Did you clap?” The voice continued. “I hope you did. If you didn’t, my request has been pointless. You should’ve clapped. You don’t know how fortunate you are to hear my voice. Had nobody cares to look at that target board, you would have left, angry and confused. You’d never have known why you’re here. The time I spent in recording would have been pointless. So, please appreciate the person who made this interaction possible. Let’s give a big round of applause.”

A few people applauded, maybe because they thought they should follow the voice. Most of us were still confused.

“Thank you,” Bishwas’s voice said. “Now, it’s time to let you know why you’re here. You are here to bid me farewell from this world. Yes, you heard that right. A proverb says: “Even if your birth was ordinary, make your death extraordinary.” Extraordinary death! That’s what I am trying to accomplish.

“I’m so sorry for what I am making you witness this evening. I always remained mysterious. Never told everything about my life and feelings. And then I brought you here and literally kept you in dark. Please forgive me.

“I lived a meaningless life, trying to keep everyone happy. But no one ever was. I worked hard in school all through my childhood to keep my parents happy. But they wanted more. I worked harder, just to see them smile. But they didn’t ever truly smile. Their smiles were fake. An act so that I would make more effort in order to kill my childhood.

“I made some friends during my Plus Two days. They celebrated my successes and moaned my failures, without anything else in return. They also introduced me to the entertaining side of life: drinks, smoke, night clubs and dohoris. I met my first love in one of these settings.”

I took a glance at the lady in red dress, paying attention to the words coming from the record. “She was beautiful. I met her a few weeks ago. She has become more beautiful. Her melodies have helped me fill the emptiness my heart suffers from. She kept me happy. Her presence was a blessing. I wanted to be with her forever but it was not to be. My parents once again came on the way of my happiness.

“”We won’t let you marry her,” they said. “She sings at a restaurant at night. Her character is questionable. Besides, she belongs to a lower caste. She can’t be our daughter-in-law.”

“Only I know how hard I tried to convince them. I begged, I cried but their heart did not melt. They threatened to stop paying for my studies. I had a dream to study medicine. Without their financial support, I would not be able to pursue my goal. To keep them happy and to keep my dreams alive, I decided to sacrifice my happiness. I acted like an ass in front of the girl I loved the most and pushed her away from my life.

“I have lived in regret ever since. I could not be with the girl I loved, I could not pursue my dreams and never did my parents become happy. After I failed two rounds of entrance exams, I joined a college. There I made a few friends. One of them thought I was perfect, that I could never make mistakes. I have made mistakes, my friend. I’m so sorry to let you down.”

The Lady looked at me and raised her eyebrows, as if saying, “What did I say?”

It hurt. More than Bishwas’s words. I almost teared up.

Bishwas’s voice was still echoing in the warehouse, “I went up the Himalayas when everything became too much for me to bear. I pulled off all the money from my bank accounts, crushed my phone and SIM and went off radar. I heard of a monastery beyond the Himalayas. I finally found peace.

“But the Lama kept saying that I had not found peace. He said that without facing everyone who suffered because of me, I could not find true peace. Even Buddha had to face his family after returning to Kapilvastu. Although I am nowhere close to Buddha, the Lama advised me to talk to everyone whom I had caused pain.

“I came home and apologized. They said they would not forgive me because of the pain I had given them. If my parents are not forgiving me, I thought, nobody would. What’s the point in living if your parents do not love you, are never happy no matter you do? What’s the point in loving someone, only to remain at a distance from her? What’s the point in getting appreciation from the world when you don’t have a family to celebrate your success?”

Feeling uncomfortable, I looked around. A woman fell on the floor. Some people, including the lady in the red dress went to help her. Others started looking worried. The recording continued, “I’m leaving you all, forever. I’m tired of leaving this pointless life. At exactly eight o’clock today, I will take a leap from the cliff behind this warehouse…”

I looked at my watch. It read 7:58. I ran towards the exit, Bishwas’s voice trailing behind me.

“… There is no point in blaming others for my decisions. Baba, Aama, I’m so sorry I turned you into villains. But I had to say everything so that nobody in the future suffers the way I did …”

The exit door was too far. Can I still save him?

“… My love, I have been terrible. I deserve your hate but please try to forgive me. …”

I barged out into the open and ran towards the cliff.

“… My friends, I’m sorry. I’m leaving you again.”

I went behind the warehouse and looked towards the cliff.

I saw the silhouette of a man above the cliff. How lean he had become! Bishwas was ready to jump. I called him out but he did not listen. I sprinted to reach him. He stretched his arms. “Bishwas,” I screamed at the top of my voice. He looked towards me, shook his head and jumped.

I stood still, shocked and confused. I could not save him. If only had I found that CD earlier! I went closer to the cliff. “No, no, no. I should have saved him but could not save him,” I said to myself.

I returned to the warehouse. What I saw baffled me. Little children were running here and there and dancing to the tunes played by a DJ. Jokes, cackles and laughter filled atmosphere. In contrast, those who had heard the recording were mourning, scolding the children and getting out of the warehouse.

The lady in the red dress came towards me. Behind her was the woman who had collapsed earlier, supported by her husband and a handsome gentleman. We both asked each other the same question, “What happened?”

After some awkwardness, the lady answered, “At exactly eight o’clock, these children and caterers rushed in from another chamber. That was where the feast was. A DJ removed the CD while it was still playing and started playing party songs.”

She gestured towards the woman and her husband. “Bishwas’s Baba and Aama have had hard time. They just won’t believe Bishwas killed himself. You saw what happened, didn’t you.”

“Yeah, he jumped down the cliff.”

Her feet staggered. Bishwas’s parents gasped.

“But he did not die,” I added.

“What?” They all said at the same time.

“Yeah, he dived into the lake and swam to the shore. He changed into a monk’s robe and then looked at me. I could not see him clearly but he must have smiled. Others may say he died but he did not. He is an excellent diver and swimmer. How can he die?”

“But he said he was leaving the world forever,” Bishwas’s mother said.

“Yes, he left us and entered into the world of monkhood. Just like the Buddha. He can now go closer to the truth. Besides, what’s the point in grieving about the man who has finally found peace?”

Memory

By Sandeept

On March 31, 2020

In Blogging, Health, Humans and Humanity, Musings

I have lost hundreds of photos and documents due to hard drive crashes and memory card failures. Crashes are inevitable. Electronic devices can fail anytime without any symptom. I backup some of my important data online but I don’t backup everything. Over years, hard drives turn into parts of my own memories, and they even represent my personality. I feel I lose myself every time a crash occurs. Sudden crashes have hurt me at least five times now, the recent one occurring on February 14, and I have not been able to recover everything yet.

Our brain captures our sensory perceptions and makes memories. The brain also erases the ones that are less significant. It is so spontaneous that we don’t care how the construction and deconstruction of memories occur. I have come to realize that when we actively interact with the environment, we make sharper memories compared to times when we are passive. Undivided attention helps produces better memories than when my mind is divided. My memory becomes the weakest during the times I have to multi-task. As I am writing this, my mind is trying to run quickly, but it is also interrupted by the talks of my sister and mother, and the loud TV. I am trying to understand what they are talking about but my mind processes only bits and pieces. I am sure when I wake up tomorrow, I won’t be able to remember anything of this evening except that I was typing something on my laptop.

This lack of proper memory construction a frightening situation for me. It was not always this way. I used to do home-works while watching TV in the past. My brain might not be as effective as it was 10-12 years ago; I don’t know. I might not have been able to grasp information from different senses at the same time. I can’t say for sure. Did my brain change the way it worked as I grew into an adult? I can’t say for sure. What I know for sure is that the volume of information my brain has to process is huge, and it has tired. All the things from trivial to complex calculations have affected it for a few years. The fatigue has lingered for a long time as I have not been able to give it a proper rest.

Unrested mind is unstable. It fears more, lacks confidence, and kills enthusiasm. It has so much to do but does not want to do anything. Moments of laughter decrease as worry grips every thought. Such a mind does not make good memories. It takes one deeper into abyss. Images of Riley from the movie “Inside Out” run in my mind as I write these lines. Sometimes, I see myself in her place, trying to keep myself happy against all conditions and making myself sadder as time passes.

The TV is making me listen to Yog Gurus who are focusing on happiness and Pranayam (breathing techniques) that help in the removal of all thoughts. After that, they say, we can enforce happy thoughts. I have not tried them yet, but as I look the paragraph above I become doubtful. Are we composed only of happy thought? We definitely are not. We are made up of several different kinds of emotions—happy, sad, angry, and so on that have roles in defining our personalities. And as the movie “Inside Out” showed, these feelings are ingrained in our memories.

Do memories make us human? Do they drive humanity? As long as I know, we learn a lot of things from the individual experiences of our parents, teachers, friends, and our own. We also have collective memories in the forms of communities, societies, rituals, libraries of books, and archives of different forms of media. Humanity relies on these things so that we don’t have to start from the beginning of the civilization. Humans are in a sort of relay race where the older generation passes the baton of memories to the younger generation can continue from what they have. A new generation always more privileged. Look at the progress in technology, for example.

Progress in technology means that we are relying more and more on it to keep our memories. Will a time come when the machines understand the meanings of our memories? That they will empathise with us? We are already astonished by the answers given by Siri and Sofia, aren’t we? Will they be more human than we ever are? “Blade Runner 2049”, the sequel to the classic “Blade Runner” movie triggered the question within me. Both the movies focus on memories implanted in factory-made humans; the sequel on the memories of automated programs as well. I don’t have the answers to the questions but the possibility of the machines becoming more intelligent or more human could be possible. For now, I am happy with the machines helping me put a part of me into them. It’s a risk as they may crash any time and I might lose those bits of my memories again. It’s okay because, “All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.”[1]

[1] Quote from Rutger Hauer’s character Roy in Blade Runner (1982)

A review of the Year 2075

By Sandeept

On April 13, 2019

In Blogging, Review

The year 2075 B.S. is coming to an end as I am writing this article. The year has been tough but felt like it fluttered away in no time. Time management has been a big deal throughout the year and it’s stressing me a bit. So, here are the things I would like to remember from 2075.

1. At the University

By the end of 2074, I had already admitted in the Masters’ Degree Programme on Engineering Geology at the Central Department of Geology, Tribhuvan University. The classes began from the 9th of Baishakh and assignments began haunting. That week I was excited and completed them long before the submission deadline. However, as time passed, assignments became more than enough and the excitement died. I still completed them but only because I had to. The trend continued in the Second Semester and I regret doing them for the sake of doing.

University has mostly been a frustrating experience. The fees are high but the way we study is not different from what I had experienced at schools and Bachelors’ programme. “It’s like school,” is what I had concluded three months ago. Teachers come and give lectures, we jot them down. But a class is 3 hours long. By the time the class ends, notebooks are filled with incoherent sentences, easily forgettable shorthand, and loads of confusion.

The confusion, as I evaluated a few days back, is because I can’t get through the lessons beforehand. The books are way too technical and the meanings, vague. A lot of terms are defined in similar manner and there is very little time to dissect them. To my own surprise, I have been completely dependent on what my teachers say and I don’t want to revise anything soon because everything felt like heavily into my mind.

Whatever the situation be, it is fun to have people sharing the experience. My 23 friends have been a revelation. You guys are the best thing I got at the university!

You guys make my every day. What else should I say?

2. Poetry and Stories

The frustration wanted to vent out and the best way I discovered was through poems. Short, symbolic and satirical. I had begun to think in poems one time during the first semester. Then I went through the Mahabharat in Nepali and it helped me understand the rhythm in poems.

Though I was writing my frustrations through poetry, it felt insufficient. Also, the environment in the university became hostile to free, direct expression. So, I didn’t write articles, nor did I write anything on my diary. Whatever I am writing here is because I am leaving those things behind. No, I am not going to be frustrated nor sad for not expressing myself.

That’s why, during the second semester, I began writing short stories and continued on my novel. The basic idea was to complete the novel before I complete my four semesters. But I found a plot hole and had to stop. Then I wrote two short stories, one each in English and Nepali. The story in English got into the Top 25 and the latter, I sent to a nation-wise contest. The results will be announced, most probably, within this week.

3. Battle Royale

Before I was writing stories, I got involved in video games FIFA 15 and PUBG (recently banned – will conjure an article on it soon). The game gave me a brilliant idea, which had already become a controversial book and movie some 20 years back. Still, I was awed. I wrote a series of essays on the topic in October-November. Here they are:

Battle Royale: PUBG, the movie, the novel

Battle Royale: Themes in Movies and Books

Why Kazuo Kiriyama did not win the Battle

4. A Week in Japan

Though the university lacks the infrastructure and teaching methodology I had expected, it still provides opportunities to learn and I was lucky to be selected in the Sakura Science Exchange Programme (Feb 28-March 7) between TU (my university) and Shimane University, Japan. I am grateful to the both the universities for making the programme informative as well as fun.

I have a lot to say on the stuffs related to the tour but I couldn’t because the exams knocked on the day we returned back. I will be sharing my experiences there in due course of time.

5. Cats

So, after the tragedy with the kitten towards the end of 2074, I thought cats would leave us. But one of her siblings found ways into our house, and with his sneaky ways, he has been protecting himself and his another brother. He is not as close the deceased kitten but he has a cute way of asking what he wants. We brought the dead kitten’s cardboard house and so, he has been a happy guest for about six months now.

The grey male cat here helped me understand new things on parental behaviour in cats

A scene from a feast with a great number of dishes

A Wedding: The Feast of Love

By Sandeept

On April 23, 2018

In Blogging, essay, Family, Happiness, Humans and Humanity, Love, Nepal, Nepali

I am thrifty. I think ~~thirty times~~ (ok, that was an exaggeration to relate thrifty and thirty) a lot before I spend a hundred rupees. When my expenditure increases, I get worried. Therefore, I say to my parents often, “My wedding will sure be expensive for sure. How can we cut expenses?”

“By not including alcohol in your feast,” Dad says.

I like the idea for I am a teetotaller but I offer a radical solution. “Let’s not have the feast at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Mom disagrees. “We have attended weddings of hundreds of couples. We can’t exclude them.”

I shut my mouth and start thinking the solution. The thriftiest solution would be a temple wedding and no party hence. But my parents disagree to that. Society has an more important role in helping me and my parents the mode of the feast.

Society criticizes someone who does not conduct a feast. Some complaints are:
“Falana* did not call us in his wedding.” (*Falano is a word used to indicate someone without mentioning their names. Falana is masculine. Falani is feminine.)
“Falani bosated her son earns crores. She did not give a party on his wedding!”
“Can’t they spend a little of what they earn to feed their neighbours?”

But people complain everytime. They make a fuss if they are not called. The invited ones complain about the variety and quality of the food. If you don’t include alcoholic beverages, they say, “That was like a Pooja, not a wedding Bhoj.” If somebody pukes because of excessive drinking, others holler about the inclusion of “hard” drinks. You can’t satisfy everybody.

But there might be more to to the feast. Jantis plus the relatives, neighbours and friends who could not attend the main ceremony are yet to celebrate the union of the two families. The groom and his family invites them before the actual ceremony on a feast called the Preetibhoj. The compound word is derived by combining Preeti (love) and Bhoj (feast). An English term “Reception” has become popular but I like the translation of Preetibhoj, “Feast of Love”, more.

The Feast of Love is the first formal gathering for the couple. Where a guy and a girl walking together in the street can be a taboo, the Bhoj helps people identity the groom and the bride as a couple.

Dowry, huge feasts and high expense make me feel that appeasement of the society is more important than the real status of the community. So, people fall in debt to try making others happy, who unfortunately are never going to be satisfied.

***

The Feast of Love of my neighbours is held at a party palace not too far from my home. Therefore, there won’t be much problem when we return. My family goes with many of other neighbours. Once we reach the party palace at about six in the evening, one aunty says, “People around here must be happy. Music and feast everyday!”

We have an excellent proverb: “गुण पनि धेरै खायो भने तितो हुन्छ ।” (Translation: If you eat too much sugar, it gets bitter.) Too much music and partying is hated by the people of the surrounding. They shut their doors and windows, shut their ears and mutter curses! Some curses come up on Twitter. Most get welled-up.

Another aunty says what I had in mind. We enter the one storeyed, zinc plate covered party “palace” which has been divided into two sections. A second wedding feast is taking place on the other side. The feast has begun, people are clicking photos with the bride and the groom, eating, drinking, dancing and are everywhere!

Children are running. No parents can control them. Forming suitable groups, they go here and there. They sometimes knock upon elders, sometimes upon waitiers and sometimes break glasses spiling cold drinks to the floor. While the owner is earning, the workers are burning!

In almost every wedding I have attended, I get to see unhappy faces of the waiters and helpers. While the host and the guest are enjoying, they are in grief that they have to work.
It’s natural to be sad that you can enjoy, it’s human to be jealous. Even anger can be justified because of the activities of people and their children. The food might be good, the drink might be excellent, the music may be loud, but the owners and managers have failed in making their employees smile.

Had they been in the West, their Party Palaces may not run for long with unhappy workers. Because we only care about the food and the behaviour of the owner(s), they’re still doing good. However, in long run, they must pay attention to keep their employees happy. They must sort out the problems.

But still I feel bad for people who are sad. Will they ever be happy?

***

The food items that are used as starters are good but heavy. They fill my stomach even before I reach the dining hall for the main course. I don’t feel like eating but I’m attracted by chicken and fish, which I don’t usually get to eat at home.

My stomach still believes that it can accommodate more. I take about half an hour before I eat everything except a few bones. Will my stomach digest it? I doubt. So, I decide to boost digestion by chewing up antacid tablets as soon as I reach home.
I get a remedy in the form of yogurt. It’s cold but refreshing. My stomach already feels better.

Meanwhile, people take more than they require and leave food on their tables. Just as at bride’s during the wedding ceremony, a lot of food fills the trash. My parents taught me never to throw food. Maybe their parents did not teach them, maybe they forgot or maybe they chose not to follow their parents’ advice.

***

The dance never attracts me. I shy away from the crowd listening to songs now dominated by Nepali over Hindi. “We now have a lot of “party” songs,” my sister says.

They are not Western-style Bollywood party songs, they are Nepali folk style party songs. (Sometimes, they are remixed, which I don’t like.) I agree with my sister and we make a list of songs that are being played. We can count them on our fingers but it’s okay to have something than to have nothing.

The bride and the groom, their parents and relatives, neighbours and friends all dance together. I wish everyone stayed as happy as they are. I also wish they didn’t need a stimulant (alcohol) to make them happy.

At 9 o’clock, the music stops, the party palace prepares to close and we all prepare to leave. Kathmandu has no night life except at a few places. I sleeps after ten. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. As a tourist city, it’s bad but as we are a bunch of free and happy people who must sleep in time, I think it’s okay. We don’t want to be zombies!

A Mithila-style drawing showing the exchange of garlands

A Wedding (Part 3/4): The Ceremony

By Sandeept

On April 21, 2018

In Nepali, essay, Family, Humans and Humanity, Love, Nepal

Birth, wedding and death are the three most important ceremonies in the life of a human. One does not know what happens at birth and what happens after death but they can witness their wedding. While birth is a ceremony of joy and death that of distress, a wedding is an affair that mixes both joy and distress. I’m going to see this just as the bride prepares to arrive at the groom’s house. Before that, I must attend the ceremony with the groom and and his family.

***

Nepali Panche Baja that also make the Naumati. The combination here is Naumati. Source: Wikimedia

The music of Panche Baja wakes up the neighbourhood. Panche baja is a set of five instruments: Narsingha, Damaha, Tyamko, Sahanai, and Karnal (often replaced by Madal). These instruments are traditionally played by Damai men. Wedding processions are led by these men and are called auspicious. However, they are also called “lower” caste and are “untouchables”. How hypocritic!
Anyway, the Mangal Dhun (auspcious music) has begun the beautiful day. The sun is shining but its not hot. The groom and his parents are in their house making final preparations before the Janta or Bariyat (wedding procession).

Janti (Bariyati), the participants of the Janta (Bariyat), have begun gathering. The number is increasing every minute. Soon, there are around a hundred men, women and children.
The musicians are encouraged. They begin playing some old folk tunes and some Lok dohori (folk song sung by two groups, one of boys and another of girls) tunes. This genre of Nepali music. During the latter part of the decade modernization shot down the folk part and reduced it to Dohori. Folk instruments are now replaced by computers and auto-tuning has been creating robotic voices.

But folk tunes that use folk instruments have become popular again. And these are the tunes the musicians of the wedding procession are playing. The crowd gets excited, gets to its feet and starts dancing.
The groom’s brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts and even some neighbours are dancing on the last available piece of land in the neighbourhood. Had it been covered by a house already, the dancers would be on the streets. They are, but no vehicle or pedestrian is disturbed.

The way the Janti is dancing without the groom, I feel they are happier than the groom himself. They seem more excited than the groom. Why? I don’t know. If you analyse happiness, the remainder can not make you happy.

The Janti is tired but the groom has not come out. Questions are increasing: “Where is he? Isn’t this the time for Bariyat Prasthan (the beginning of the procession)? Why are they doing it late?”

Its midweek and not a public holiday. Most of the Janti will have to go to their jobs. They look at their wrist watch and then the people who are still dancing. They look at their wrist watch and then at the groom’s house.
Dad is not worried. “Have you taken a leave?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. “You must attend your neighbours weddings. Janti is a proof that the groom’s family is not alone. The bride’s parents will feel secured that the neighborhood will support the groom’s family when they are in trouble and they also feel safe because there is a society that will secure the bride in case the groom’s family tries to hurt her.”

“That’s beautiful!” I exclaim. Before this, I thought wedding procession was just a medium to show off and that it was something that added woes to the bride’s parents. Sure, it increases their expenses but happiness and security are far greater than money.

And if groom and his family beat up the girl and neighbours interfere, they cannot say, “Get out off it. It’s our family matter.” The neighbours have the right to say, “You brought this girl here with promises of happiness in our presence. We are the witnesses of your oaths.”

***

The priests and the groom’s father put Teeka on each of Janti’s forehead including the musicians. The groom comes out. He is greeted with smiles, laughter and hootings. He then revolves clockwise round a decorated car, hired for the day, thrice. The musicians lead. A column of women carrying Kalash and other items follow. The groom’s car then sets off. The road gets blocked for a quarter of an hour. Other people who are passing by get irritated. Some don’t hesitate to curse!

A bus can easily come to the street but the groom’s family wants us to walk to the Chowk. We don’t mind. Elders say, “A Bariyat without a walk is boring.”

***

Wedding at the bride’s home or Tole (community) in Kathmandu is rare these days. Party palaces have the catering, ample space and wedding ground. They may be expensive, but are more convenient.

The bride’s family, relatives and neighbours (Ghargaule) greet the Janti. As I am distracted looking at the people, the groom disappers. About fifteen minutes later, I find him seated on a chair with the bride. The bride’s relatives are washing both of their feet. Her parents have done the “Kanyadan”, i.e. they have given their daughter to the groom.

Janti is sent to the “Dining Hall”. They gobble up food quickly. Those who have their office duties rush. Some people have taken, on their plates, more food than they can eat. People waste a lot of food in weddings. It’s beyond my understanding how they don’t know what and how much they want.

Ghargaunle eat next along with the bride and the groom. More food reaches the trash!

***

The sound of Panche Baja comes up again. Everyone rejoices. The use of Panche Baja in weddings has increased again in recent times. There was a time when playing folk Panche Baja was looked down upon. Band Baja (a Band with European instruments) was considered “modern” and better than the traditional folk music.

The dresses too have changed. I hear an elder saying, “When we were young, wearing Daura Suruwal meant you were going to be teased at. You would be a cartoon because no young people wore it. Time has changed. Young people have begun taking care of their culture again.”

Yes, young people don’t wear Daura Suruwal everyday but we have at least adopted it as a formal wear. I believe the youth of other religions and castes too are now taking care of their culture. I am not sure but I believe this is a result of the socio-political changes in this decade.

***

While the music has woken up people, the bride and the groom come to the Yagya. There are several rituals before and after the groom puts sindoor (vermillion) on the bride’s head. I don’t remember all. What I notice is that the bride is to the groom’s left in the beginning. At one point, I’m not sure when, the groom lifts the bride and puts her to his right. She will always be at her right in Yagyas since.
In Hindu tradition, before his marriage, a man conducts Yagyas all by himself. He alone makes all the things necessary. He alone pours ghee to the sacrificial fire. It’s the same for the girl. After the first Yagya with his wife, they’ll always perform the Yagya together. Both of them sacrifice their solitude in the fire and unite for life.
We have rituals that can go for hours.

Some people find these useless. I too thought so before I saw American weddings. Christians have short weddings. Father reads something and asks the man’s promise to take care of his wife. If he replies “Yes”, he asks the lady if she will take care of husband. If she too says yes, they become “Man and Wife”. Our Priests too read out something and asks for promises–all in Sanskrit. Most of us do not understand.

When the short wedding ends, bride and the groom play different games, sing and dance. Now, our rituals already have games like tug of war, gambling and so on. I feel its alright.

***

As the rituals are coming to an end, I see a plethora of emotions. The bride and her parents look sad, the groom and the Janti look happy. The Ghargaule are happy as well as sad. These play of emotions makes the wedding ceremony special.

The bride has lived her life with her parents until that day. After the ceremony ends, she will move to a new place, surrounded by new people. She is full of emotions. Sadness of leaving her parents, joy of ending society’s questions like “Why aren’t you married yet”, fear of not being accepted by her husband and his society. I am not a girl but I can feel her pain.

Parents are the saddest when their children leave them. I know this. I had a kitten. I loved her like a child. When she died, I could not control my emotions. Daughters are more than cats. Daughters are more livelier than sons. They laugh, dance and sing. They help parents in chores more than sons do. They heal their parents’ griefs more effectively than sons can. Without their daughter, her parents will lose the home she had created.

Relatives, neighbours, all cry. They have special bond with the girl. Friends cry seeing their friend in tears.

The groom and his family are happy because she will make a new home, similar to what she had built, in their house. Their happiness does not touch me much and despite being a Janti, I get emotional.

***

Sadness is not going to stop the custom. She must leave her parents. Before leaving, she cries and along with her cry all her family members, friends, relatives and neighbours. By the time she reaches at groom’s, she does not look too sad. Some brides cry for hours. She does not. The groom and the Janti have done a magic. May the charm stay forever!

Personal Achievements in 2074

By Sandeept

On April 13, 2018

In Personal, Story, Writing

Some months ago I had decided that at the end of the year 2074 B.S., I would make a list of some of the achievements I can boast upon. I discovered 8 points.

1. Edited and Published a College Journal

On Falgun 2073, just before the end of the academic session, Prof. Dr Tara Nidhi Bhattarai had announced that the final year had to publish a scientific journal. I had been nominated the Editor-in-chief of the journal unanimously by my friends. I had added four friends and had completed the Editorial Board.

The real job began in 2074. After a week since the end of our final exams, I called for the articles via our Facebook group. By the end of the month, we had very few articles. I had to ask for them again with a stricter deadline.

The Editorial Board initially received 15-16 articles. We worked with what we had and then making sure that very few percentages of students had submitted, we asked again.

The other board members got extremely busy. I took the help of Grammarly to edit the grammar and spelling. It took more than a month to compile all the 29 articles. Then we had to prepare cover pages, and print the file out. We published Geology, Vol. 8 just before the Dashain. I was the happiest man that day because I had spent almost 5 months of my year for the

2. Photoshop Basics and Inkscape

The tools of Adobe Photoshop always scared me. Because of that, I could never go through its basics even though it was installed on my computer for years.

This year, a fortnight before the publication of the Geoworld Journal, I decided to learn GIS on my own. I downloaded QGIS and completed a tutorial I obtained at a website. After that, when I looked at Photoshop, it did not become as challenging as it used to be.

I learnt to select, crop, change image size, resolution, use brush, paint and so on. I never completed other tutorials on QGIS (must learn it completely by the end of 2075), but I learnt how to manipulate images and now I am able to use another application Inkscape to produce vector images. My current Gravatar is one of my earliest works on Inkscape.

3. Got the Bachelor’s Degree

A day before the publication of Geoworld, the results of the final year was published. And obviously, I got the Bachelor’s Degree. I took the certificates much later. I was happy but not as much as I wanted to be because I am not earning anything.

4. Gardening

In the month of Bhadau, I was writing a chapter for a novel. The garden in the setting was beautiful. Small trees lined it and beautiful flowers bloomed. As soon as I wrote that scene, I went up to our terrace and saw plants basking. The soil had dried and the plants did not look good. That day onwards, I made a routine of watering them every evening. It soon turned into a habit and now, whenever I don’t have to water them, I feel like I have missed something.

My parents, too, are happy that I have been at least watering plants every day. That their terrace garden is not dried up.

5. Learnt to ride two-wheelers

I had a fear of riding bikes. I still do. But I had to overcome my fear after Tihar (in November) to learn to ride motorbikes. It was extremely difficult and tiring in the first week. I was just catching up in the second week when the course ended. Nevertheless, I could ride a scooter. Riding a two-wheeler requires your mind working in several directions at a time. To bring balance to a vehicle that is clearly imbalanced was a difficult achievement.

6. Learnt a lot about life from a little kitten

Just at the end of the first week of my motorbike training, I found two kittens crying inside a drum under the stairs. The mother left the kittens and we adopted them. One month later, the male was taken by the mother. We see them running sometimes on the terraces of our neighbours.

The female, however, refused to go with the mother cat and stayed with us. She was growing well and just as we thought everything was fine, she went downstairs and got caught by dogs.

Her life and the grief she gave me at death made me understand that nature and life were cruel. I also learnt a great deal about cats and other animals, their behaviours and the problems they face because of us.

7. Tribhuvan University (TU)

The day I went the Office of the Controller of the Examinations (OCE) was the day I stepped into the TU premises for the first time. It was quite depressing because of the unmanaged system and earthquake-affected buildings.

However, when I entered the Tribhuvan University Campus area, I felt a magical calmness in the surrounding. It was so influential that I forgot the chaos of the world outside.

Last week, I got admitted for the M.Sc. The classes will begin from the second week of the New Year.

8. Quora

Quora happened to me all through the year 2074. In Baishakh, after the final exams, I got back to the website because of some of my friend’s posts on Facebook. I realized that I had answered a few questions in the past and they were still generating some views. So, I got excited and began answering questions on Geology and Nepal.

On the second week of March, I was provided a “Top Writer 2018” badge. I have about 300 followers and my answers don’t have much views compared to so many popular users but obtaining the badge felt great. I reserved the celebration for New Year, though!