Fuck my heart;
it fell in love with him
and loved him forever,
until it was tired
and then forced it’s way back to four years ago.
(when he didn’t exist).
Fuck my heart
after giving up,
after moving on,
after letting go,
it screams out to me
it was pretending after all.
Fuck my heart,
it’s fearless,
and shameless perhaps.
it could fall back for him
and love him forever
until it finally gets tired again.
I fell for a wonderful guy just before I turned sixteen. He was trouble’s favorite child but, he was a beautiful human being. We were the last pair of people that were supposed to fall for each other, because we were just so different. But, when I met him, I loved like never before. From strangers to friends to lovers we grew and over time became extremely attached to each other. Between the age of sixteen and nineteen we together went through ups and downs, we simultaneously got in and got out of trouble, we kept falling in and falling out of love and we fought plenty and immediately showered each other with all love in the world. This continued for four long years and we thought it would always be this way. But our lives took a different turn when he had to leave to do what he was meant to do in life.
Today, we are five thousand miles and eight whole months away from what we used to be or what we were the very last time we ‘knew’ each other. No, we really don’t know each other anymore. Over the past few months I have realized one thing- 5000 miles is too much a distance for two young hearts and 8 whole months is a time too long for a place, a person and a life to change. We are not the ‘us’ we used to be because both ‘I’ and ‘You’ that constituted the ‘us’ are not the same anymore. I have changed over time and I know he has changed over time. And it’s not that we were never aware of the change that was bound to take place. It’s just that we didn’t take the right measures at the right time to adapt to the change that was eventually going to take the form of a storm. The storm did take place and unfortunately we couldn’t fight it- together. I gave up.
Do I regret not trying hard enough? No, not really. I do wish we had lasted a little longer- as long as forever. But I know I put in as much effort as I could afford. And still it was not enough. We should have put in maybe a little more-together- to adapt to the change, the transformation but. There’s just no point in whining about the storm that has passed us already despite the fact that we knew it was coming.
I am not going to say I ‘fell out’ of love, I just ‘ran out’ of what was mere ‘attachment in disguise’. It is not ‘love’ that has been holding us together so far. It’s just attachment, the force that doesn’t allow you to let go for good. There’s a very thin line between attachment and love. Attachment resembles love a lot; the only difference being it neither lets you grow nor allows you to let go.
This week after much thought and after collecting much strength I made a move to break the strings of this very attachment that was doing no good to ‘us’. Because it had reached to a point where the sooner was the better. Had we not let go of each other now, the heartbreak and the heartache that should follow would have been horribly ugly at later point in time.
Do I still love him? Of course I do. It’s practically impossible to not love a friend who stood by you for four complete years, who has loved you for who you are, who has made you smile and made you glow uncountable times, who has listened to you whine, who has held you to protect you from your demons, who has lent his arms to lighten up yours, and who has always given you his share of strength when you fell short of it. And it’s nearly impossible to not love a guy, who you know would still be the one you’d run to when you’re happy and you’re sad if only he were living few kilometers and not thousand miles away.
But “long distance” did play villain and unlike other heroes, the heroes of our love story couldn’t defeat it. We live in two different parts of the world, which not only share two different time zones but also share exactly opposite seasonal cycles at any particular time. The distance between us is approx. 5000 miles and the phone bills- ugh they sum up to amounts too high! In order to skype , one always has to compromise a good night sleep , sometimes even when you’re home after a day too long or even when you have an early morning that follows. On top of all, we both are currently running at such a pace in life that we really don’t have time to stop and keep track of where we are heading. How can we then keep track of what the other person is doing or where the other person is heading? And by the time we reach a point in life when we can actually stop and see each other we will have grown into totally different people- he with new set of needs and me probably with an entirely different approach towards love and life. And I am afraid we will fail to find even the bits and pieces of the ‘us’ –what we used to be when together- long, long time ago. Maybe we could start all over again but then who would have the energy to?
Love, don’t ask me what it means or what it’s like to be in it. Honestly, although I just stepped out of it, it has been really long since I last embraced it, felt it. I lost it long time ago, I just officially ended it recently in order to make sure that the little ‘love’ that still exists doesn’t die and before it’s too late. For some time, I’m not carrying my heart on my sleeve and I’m going to enjoy my singlehood. However, as much as ironic it might get, I also don’t remember what it’s like to not be in love.
“It’s a powerful thing”,
They say about a hug.
If we ever get to see each other,
And to hold each other,
One more time.
Do you think we could -
Hug it away;
Everything that has come between us?
You are a part of me,
You have always been one,
But I’m not sure
If you should always be.
You are like that part
Which is important and which is not
Which if I keep,
Might swallow me entirely.
That part,
That I can’t feel anymore,
and that I can’t love
And I can’t ‘not love’.
That to which
I can’t help but cling,
and insist on keeping it,
Because, I’m used to it?
How long might it take?
Before I am able to break it off,
The bond, the attachment,
How long?
Before I finally admit
That I ought to amputate you,
although you’ve always been
-a huge part of me?
I am conflicted, and I so hate this feeling.
Many rapid changes have taken place in the last few months of my life. Changes, which have transformed me into somebody I am terribly failing to, get acquainted with. I am not even sure if I am ‘me ‘anymore and I am not sure if ‘this’ is who I ever wanted to be! And I can’t decide which ‘me’ I like better- the old one or the new? I can’t believe the fact that human beings can transform so much in a few months’ span. I can’t believe the fact that I have transformed to this extent in a few months’ span!
I have grown into somebody with traits that I always believed myself to be incapable of possessing. For example, I never thought I’d be a competitive somebody, I never thought I’d be among those millions of people who are always racing to be the best and suddenly I am one of them! I don’t even know how and when I became a part of this race but now it seems impossible for me to quit. Similarly, I never thought I’d be somebody who’d run after fame. Although I enjoyed claiming that I want to become a bestselling author someday; deep inside I always believed that I’d live a decent, ordinary life. But suddenly, I am chasing fame and I don’t want to be just another human being anymore! I want to be renowned, I want to be remembered and surprisingly I am even ready to work my ass off for it!
I remember how my parents always worried that I might end up miserable due to my self-destructive selfless nature. The good news for my parents is that in the last few months I have grown into somebody ‘very’ selfish. No, I am not exaggerating. If there’s one person that I care most about in this world it has to be ‘me’. Everybody else and everything else is secondary!
That’s not all; I have developed a whole new class of other personal traits. The transformation has for sure distorted my previous self-definition. The transformation has given birth to a brand new set of roles and responsibilities in my life and I am aware of it. I know who I used to be and I know what has become of me, yet, I am left with a sense of identity crisis! It’s like belonging to the neither domain of the old me and the new me wholesomely. It’s like some part of me is stuck and still struggling in between these two ‘me’s! And this very feeling is very overwhelming, and I hate it!
A really close friend of mine is oh, so in love! She’s crazy about her boyfriend. Every little thing he does has a ten times larger effect on her life. He’s a really huge part of her life. From clothes she wears to the college she goes to, all her minor and major decisions revolve around him. Everything he likes falls under her ‘likes’, and everything he dislikes falls under her ‘dislikes’. She can’t imagine a life without him. When they don’t get to talk or meet in two days, she cries herself to sleep. Aw, now how cute is that? They are so in Love! – Seriously?
My other friends often claim that she has turned into me- what I used to be- and all I do is stand there; amused and speechless. I don’t deny, because I can’t. That’s exactly how I used to be- the now her, and she has actually become the then me. Wow! Love can do wonders. Or let’s just say- the ‘idea’ of love can do wonders!
I used to be so crazy for my boyfriend. I could lie for him and if situation asked of it may be would die for him (seriously!). Ugh! The world around me didn’t matter. My family, my friends and even my dreams didn’t matter. ‘I’ didn’t matter! All that mattered was him, his dreams, his family and his friends. He was a huge part of me, unnecessarily huge! I’d go through thousands of heartaches but would never stop ‘loving’ him. I’d fight with the world because being with him was all that mattered. He ‘loved’ me; there was nothing to be scared of. I’d design my future around his dreams just so that we would have our ‘happily ever after’ someday. When people said, “Aw… You guys are so cute, so in love!” I’d smile and proudly. I liked the attention; I liked the fact that I had a ‘love story’. And now- I don’t know why!
I mean; I should have been rather ashamed not proud! Where was ‘I’, where was ‘me’ in my love story? All that existed was Him! And occasionally when I was ‘me’ I’d be told I was an ego head! Wow. Now, how sad is that? Such an ugly picture of ‘love’ – yet people thought it was ‘cute’ and I believed it too!
God! I’m so happy I’ve gotten past that phase and that ‘idea’ of Love! I’d never go back to loving somebody that way in a million years. And I am thankful that my boyfriend isn’t a jerk or else my life would have been a wreck now. Trust me, it would have been!
At sixteen, I thought my parents didn’t understand and my teachers didn’t want to see me happy. At seventeen, I believed people were not concerned but rather bothered. At eighteen, I claimed they didn’t know what love is. Today, I don’t blame them and I don’t claim I am familiar with ‘love’. Maybe they have had their share of the ugly phase- where they had no control over their lives. And it’s only natural that they didn’t want it for a young girl in her late teens (it’s a dangerous age after all!). When I look at my friend, I complain too. I tell her over and over again that she might end up having identity crisis sometime later in the future. I know she hates it, but I can’t help it. But sometimes I think- maybe I owe it her, maybe I should trust her. I grew out of it and maybe she will too.
Anyhoo, As of now i’d like to share my current idea of love which I believe is so much better than the one I lived with for three years. Today when I think of love:
• I don’t think of just him, but I think of ‘us’. I think of the two different individuals we are – with individual dreams, with individual choices, with individual ideas and with our identities.
• I think of compatibility, but uncompromised and unforced compatibility
• I think of space between us, where we can be somebody so much more than a mere ‘lover’ of each other
• I think of liberty
• I think of taking time to discover about the partner
• And of time we need to live out our dreams.
• I think of strong understanding
• I think of quality to express and appreciate
• I think of the quality to acknowledge each other’s presence in our lives.
• I think of friendship – where we don’t have to think thrice before speaking our mind off, where if we fight we don’t think of breaking up and where there is no jealousy.
• I think of control over our own lives
• And I think of knowing that you are with the right person at the end of the day- who neither possesses you nor is obsessed with you. He doesn’t think you belong to him, he just believes you belong together. He doesn’t claim he’d die without you, he’s just happy that you are together at the moment. He doesn’t think writing for living is an absurd thing to do; he appreciates the joy that you get when you write. He doesn’t say ‘I love you’ uncountable times, but means it every time that he does. He is not perfect; he’s just another human being like me who appreciates the beauty of mistakes in life!
That’s pretty much for now I guess. When this idea evolves into something else (hopefully better), I’ll write again.
come on, don’t feel sorry,
I feel what you feel, like exactly,
but what can we do?
we know it’s gonna be awkward;
with too many questions to face
but hey,
what about on a count of three-
we let go and together;
that way we won’t have to answer one question-
who gave up first?
(after all these years)
Why is it that so many people from our generation are so bad at Nepali? Why is it that most of us have a good spoken English and very poor command in Nepali? Why is it that when we are bound to study Nepali we start whining about how poor we are at it or how boring the subject is without even trying? Why is it that we happily admit that we are oh so poor at Nepali, like it’s a cool thing to say? Isn’t it a little too embarrassing for us? It’s our native language!
Well, I have been pretty ashamed of myself lately. Because I am doing BA in English (in Nepal), I also have to study Nepali for the first year. I wasn’t happy about this particular subject. I have always been poor at Nepali; or so I have been claiming all my life. When I was whining about it at home; Mamu kind of got mad at me. “Nepal ma basera Nepali aaudaina bhandai hidyo bhane chai beijat hunchha hai”; she said. Didi was on the other side of the Skype; she smiled and told Mamu that learning native language is always tough and that even Japanese don’t do well in their native language. Well that was pretty convincing.
But here, it’s not just a matter of LEARNING Nepali academically; we are so detached to our own language culturally too. It’s like a part of the culture now; if you belong to our generation you are expected to be poor at Nepali. You are expected to proudly claim that Nepali is your worst subject. You are expected to choose English over Nepali very naturally. I mean how many of us, read more Nepali novels or any Nepali novel at all? How many of us choose to read Newspaper in Nepali than reading it in English. Or, to make it very simple how many of us listen to Nepali songs or watch Nepali movies? Yes, we can say that Nepali Film and Music Industry sucks, but have we bothered to encourage few good movies and songs that actually exist?
When I sit on my bench with words in Devnagarik script in the board before my eyes, I get so ashamed of my ignorance about the language. When I turn around to ask people what the word might mean, it only gets worse when they smile and say; “ Malai jhan ka thahunchha?”. Not knowing Nepali is just so not cool anymore. When people ridicule others with poor English, why do we not ridicule ourselves for sucking at Nepali? While we talk about how proud we are to be Nepali, and how much we love Nepal, isn’t it our duty to if not like at least pay some respect to our Language?
Help me do better at Nepali.Help yourself do better at Nepali. Perhaps we owe it to the culture?
Anybody who knows me knows how much I talk about Murakami. Sometimes it only gets really irritating to people around me. I love Haruki Murakami. Many people ask me who he is, what he does and why I like him. I’d rather suggest anybody who doesn’t know him yet to just Google him. Google has much better account on him. But, I can definitely answer the latter-Why I like him, well,I can try. Only this afternoon I was talking to a friend after having finished my last Murkami novel- A wild sheep chase. I was terrified, overwhelmed and speechless after putting the book back to my shelf. I was trying to pour my heart, I was trying to speak my mind off and I needed to and he was the only person on the other side of Facebook who I thought would listen. But, then he cut me short, he wasn’t in for a conversation on how much I love Murakami. I was upset.
But, I need to pour my heart out anyway, so I’d appreciate your patience.
It all started with the first novel- The Norwegian Wood. I had borrowed it from a friend merely because I loved the book cover. I still love it; it just has to be one of the best book covers of all time! But as I started the novel, I just got hooked to it. There was no getting away. It was a complete page turner. But then after I was done with the book, I never really went in search for any other Murakami book. One day a Canadian friend of ours asked me if I had any favorite author and for some reason I just named Murakami. Honestly, no he was not my favorite, it was Nicholas Sparks but maybe I wasn’t comfortable naming him- I was in the middle of some puppy love disaster or something like it. So ya, having finished a Murakami book recently I just named him. I don’t know what happened in between; all I can remember is our dear friend CA started bringing me Murakami books every time she visited Nepal. Later I discovered it really was difficult to find a Murakami book here in Nepal. At least it was hard back then and hence they only became more valuable to me.
I read every book she ever brought me and every time I’d be left awestruck, speechless after finishing it. It’s hard to express in words the rush of emotions that follows after reading what he writes. There are hundreds of good writers, good authors in world but he is different. He is eccentric but an amazing story teller. You can never really guess what you’re going to come across in the next page. He is very witty. He has an imagination like that of a child. There’s just no boundary to it. He’s not afraid of expressing what he can imagine. He brings every single character in his story to life. And he takes every single reader to the world of his story. Not a single story of his is just another story; it has to be a Murakami story. He compels me to wonder if he is a normal human being. He’s so intelligent. His books are so charmingly creepy! After every book or story I fall in love with him and his work all over again. And… I don’t know I just can’t find the right words.
Well, while his books are an indulgence, he is an inspiration to me.I aspire to become a critically acclaimed writer like him. And wow, I’d love to own an autographed book of his. Yes, for now that’s pretty much about it.
I grew up saying that I hate politics. Now, I can’t really say if I truly meant it. Maybe I just liked the sound of it; I thought it was cool to be not interested in politics. I had also heard many people say politics is a ‘dirty game’ and I perhaps just believed in the idea. Come on, I had to hate politics to be just one of many people out there. But, I remember one thing pretty clear, whenever my parents talked about politics I pretended to be not interested and yet stayed back to listen to what they had to say. At nineteen, I must confess- I am interested in politics. And I must confess I was rather dumb than cool to not have attempted to learn about politics when I was younger.
Few days back, excuse me for my ignorance about the date, Dr. Baburam Bhattarai was elected as the Prime Minister of our country. Honestly, I had nothing to say about any of the former prime ministers before Bhattarai. But, when I heard that Bhattarai was our new prime minister, I smiled. I was happy for him and I was happy for the country. Why? I don’t know. It just felt right!
I am a racist when it comes to Nepali Maobadi, yes I consider them a whole new race. I can’t stand them, I can’t stand the idea that they have so much hatred inside them; I can’t stand the idea that they call themselves Maoist and yet act like none. I can’t stand the idea that after causing so much destruction as a group for supposedly better society, they have now divided into god knows how many groups for their vested interest. I think I hate them.
But, if I separate Dr. Bhattarai from the race for once, I like him. Such an irony, he’s the leader of Nepali Maobadi! Why I like him? I like the fact that he’s still a ‘Maoist’. I like the fact that he’s not as shrewd as his fellow comrades. I like the fact that he’s highly educated, well read and yet not after money. I like the fact that he has the capacity to think intellectually. I like the fact that he doesn’t have any guilty or sly expression on his face like other political leaders. I like the fact that he listens to what public has to say or suggest to him. I like the fact that he has started his job as the PM from day one. I like the fact that because of him politicians who failed the country while riding expensive vehicles are highly embarrassed today. I like the fact that Bhattarai is courageous enough to put forward good ideas. And I like the fact that he has now led me re-think about politics.
I don’t really care if he’s a Maobadi leader, for now he’s the prime minister, the country leader and I really hope that he doesn’t let us down. I hope he does at least half of what he has promised to do. Even then I’d be proud of him. I really hope he leads the country to think of Maobadis as true Maoists. I pray he sets a very high bench mark for all the politicians. And god forbid if other politicians try to destroy him, with all my heart I pray he destroys them worse.
No, I am not a maoist follower; I am just one nineteen year old Nepali girl, who wishes that Bhattarai doesn’t let the country down.
