bikalsblog - Tumblr blog

bikalsblog · 2 years ago

Text

So, its almost the time to stare back in the screen and hear this keyboard tapping. I love the sound it makes when my finger pushes the individual keys and the tip below the nails can feel it. Typing your thoughts is like playing an instrument. I see a lot of musicians walking on the road getting almost addicted to their instrument of choice. The airplay it. Piano players wiggling their fingers like a over cooked spaghetti and there is no speech left for guitar players. Air guitars are so common on concerts, parties and random places like beach and inside a busy café.

English language to me is like an invention but found by me. I have never understood the concept of grammar since schooling and now its not my best part. Last week I did this English test by Pearson and the comment on it was my writing lacks content and the chain of sentences that makes sense. Maybe my writing is like jazz where there seems to be some connection but most of the time all your hear is nonsense noodling. See just like jazz, writing is a discipline. It is a mixture of correct pacing and character development. To me writing is a method of catharsis. Exposing my thoughts. Making it naked. What’s with the grammar and sentences that Charles Dickens wrote? I have not read a single sentence by Charles Dickens. Not yet. Surely, he must have written some good stuff. Maybe I’ll read the first three sentences and I will be in love with his art. Maybe I’ll be so inspired by his writing, I’ll spend another decade in the gutter trying to figure out what he meant. Hopefully not.

I seem to have lost my expressing power nowadays. Last time I checked, I did 9 hour shift on the busiest café travelled 3 hours back and forth walking 10 minutes, taking a train then taking another train and then taking a bus and then walking to the shop I could see from my bus stop. I was fascinated by poetry. It was simple and beautiful. There is no need of making a complex format or rhyming if you don’t want to. I am always fascinated by the way I make a way for my self, in school I understood concepts by myself. After school I learned things like cricket by myself. I discover things and that is the problem. What takes months of depressed mentality and nights that snatch sleep from you to come up with an idea, a simple conversation with anybody who has been in the trade longer than you could explain it to you. Life is a big mess without being social. I still do not like to be social. I want to like being social but I cant. I often see myself with one wrong move to die with a easy treatment disease and one step to the wrong road to sleep in the street. I don’t know anybody in this universe. Never in my life except for once I have felt like I have a someone. When I kiss a girl, its not her that I have with me. Its something else that could go away with one wrong sentence.

The thing about having no aim in life is knowing if you carry an aim it makes no difference. Aim is just a sugar coated lie to tell yourself that all this means something. This means no horse shit. We have this generational habit of trying to find a reason of everything. There are smart-proclaimed intellectuals who pride on finding results instead of reason but those belong over to the pile of no horse shit as well. Writing a slightly filtered essay (if you call this that) is the first step of loosing my mind. I see no sunrise after this night.

2 notes · View notes

bikalsblog · 3 years ago

Text

Show

people get excited and look forward if there is anything that breaks the schedule. Maybe if people have a volatile routine, being in a routine makes them excited. Living is after all making routines and breaking routines.

To Teddy, the letter reads to me.

It was a full-page letter, but my mind just got the message in one sentence,

“you’re invited for a reunion party of workers and hope to see you soon. “

I was working after I graduate as a hospital cleaning supplier, I managed wholesale vendors and all their tenders with us. I was there for four years and moved out by lying about a job I said I got but remained unemployed for another 3 and a half months before getting the job I have now. It is a light and display vendor and I now deal with electricians building new commercial retail spaces.

It's boring, dull to even talk in a business-to-business manner but humanity created a world out of millions of businesses talking to other millions of businesses.

I need to show off at that party. I quit that job due to reasons I now find funny, but it surely wasn’t. let us not dig that hole. Or say, let’s not tickle that slim hospital skin. I have to pretend like I am doing really well. Maybe I should get a new shoe, a good one. Expensive leather is hardly worn nowadays. leave that up. I’ll think about it. I still have 4 more days.

As I go to lunch in my not-so-new but newest in context job, I still think about what to say and how to describe my job. Maybe I should fit with people and complain about my daily life or maybe I should be reminiscent of how good those days were, pretending to smile at each other and hoping your desk colleague would be sick so you can have that extra leg stretch below the table.

should I make them think like I haven't changed at all? Teddy is just a good old Teddy. He is somewhere else but he is still Teddy. Scratch that, maybe I should pretend to be something else, like a finance guy. People really like finance people. The thing that chuckles me as I eat my ham and mustard sandwich is maybe I should pretend to be a Christian. “Teddy found Jesus” maybe I shouldn't. Just eat the damn sandwich and get back to work.

2 days remaining, maybe I should buy some clothes. I went out and bought myself a cotton shorts, a white shirt with sky blue and almost black kind of blue cheques on them. They made little boxes all over the shirt.

On that particular day, I was about to leave for lunch at around 11 am but waking at 6 had so much time on my hand. I put it on my random playlist. I was listening to Beatles, smashing pumpkins, and Fleetwood Mac. These are the same artists I used to listen to while I was working with them in the past. I am just going back. Maybe I miss them, and I just realized that. I know the names of all people I have worked with before, Juan, Marissa, Jonathan, Robbie, and the manager Daisy.

I had the simplest of fried eggs, with no brown crust on the bottom and a sprinkle of cracked black pepper and salt on top. Nothing else. As my stomach couldn’t feel it anymore, I went for a shower and shaved. I cut myself. Just below the lip closer to the chin, that curve gets curvier as you try to fold the lower lip. Now I will be going to the reunion with a cut on my face.

Maybe I shouldn’t go at all. I thought looking at the mirror, blood droplets on the sink. But I haven’t even told anyone I wouldn’t come. I should go on my second thought. I have to show off and lie saying I have been doing really good since I left that job. I didn’t drive to the brunch place, maybe we all will have a drink or two. Took a bus and I was there.

Firstly, I wasn’t very late. Robbie told me I wasn’t really expected. I said I was busy so couldn’t contact you. The truth is I was not. Now I have to forget all about my preparation. I now need to talk about how busy I am all the time. No Christian Teddy anymore, maybe a finance guy who is busy.

In between weather, family, changes in the workplace, and inside workplace jokes, I tried to fake my laughter, approaching style, and eating habits. No, nothing can be done. I am back to who I am. only Marissa and Robbie were working with the company till now therefore everybody tried to fake it. Fake being better than before. I found everyone back to who they were and surely they found me in my original self as well. We can’t really pretend all the time. It is who we are.

I used to make fun of politics then and never made those jokes on my current job but as I hit my second glass of white wine, I was back and it came to me naturally.

when I left, we all made promises to keep in touch and meet very often yet we all knew we are not going to do that. Next time, if we ever have another brunch and wine session, we all will surely forget that we cannot pretend but again over think about what to wear, what to say and what story shall I merge myself at.

1 note · View note

bikalsblog · 3 years ago

Text

Jamal

If you're living in a place close to major bus stop for your city, you’d know all that crowd is rented. There is no soul in that insects like crawling people who would like to be there forever. They’re either going somewhere or have already been there, those moments and dwells are just to return back. I live there, and the way I look is like a cinema hall, I am at sitting at the back row seat and watch what's curtain has there for me. This time, I can go inside the curtain and be a part of story that I cant watch myself. Either be a character or be an audience. My room is on the second floor, if the ground floor is floor 1. There are disputes on whether i live in floor 2 or floor 1. I’d say if i cross wooden stairs, from the plain ground, the next flat surface I touch is just one staircase away, rest is up to you, where’d you place me.

That is a complain. The rush and honking buses in the early morning, there are people everywhere and every time. This is not a complain. We’d feel safe hearing people’s voice if you’re about to wake up and go to work especially when your body doesn't want to wake up in the middle of winter morning. Noises are a naturally occurring alarm when you need it and when you don't want to be near them, they are sounds made my impassionate artist, no feelings like singing for profit and nothing else, ugly.

More than everything, its the sheer cold that wakes me up at night and doesn't let me leave in the morning. I am here for 7 months but shopkeeper, Nisha below my bedroom says the winter morning is even worst. She holds a stationary shop and knows what early morning feels like. She’s along with the vegetable carriers that sit in the cold street has passed on a report for me, as I am still asleep and hearing noises of customers requesting newspaper and bargaining on price of matured radish, my job is not the hardest. There are people working 7 days waking at 2, getting here around 4 and doing a job not knowing how much money they’re about to make. After all, I even being a junior in a petrol station I can calculate how much a day will I make. I haven't calculated yet but I surely know that. I wake up form the bed, all this was going inside my head. Why do I always think about this whenever I have to do an early morning shift. The work’s killing me. I hate it so much, people leaving heavy things to carry for me, and why cant our manager just mop the vomit from overnight passengers on the road if it is that disgusting? why wait for me to come. I go there after 2-3 hours of him being there.

I brush my teeth, drink cold water to ease my dry mouth but I surely know I should not be doing that at all. My throat hurts and teeth's freeze, how can a plain bone freeze, I don’t know but it does and surely hurts a lot. No matter how much will it really hurt, there is no way I am lighting my gas stove to warm that. I have to wake up at least 5 minutes early, I love thinking random thoughts rather than waking up. Even if I do wake up, what if I heat it too much that peals the tongue and have to wait before it cools down. Waste of time. I put cold water to balance it out, but if it gets to cold that is waste of effort.

I am in a rush, I get dressed into what I wore yesterday from t-shirt, another t-shirt, sweater that says pancha ratna petrol and diesel and then a big jacket for the 7 and a half minute walk to station. I walk on, there are 3 homeless boys on the way, very close to my room, I talk with them and they always walk in a group, they maybe brothers. I don't know how but they look fairly clean. Maybe they’re not homeless at all, they might just like resting their back on the streets and watch the inconsistent flow of the crowd. They surely know me like I know them. I smile and then they smile, like a ‘hey what's up? nothing much and yours? nothing much same as always” through a smile as I walk down the road and they keep on resting.

Did I really lock the door today? I should have, the keys are in my pocket. I don't think I have ever forgotten to lock the door. I wish at least I have closed it. Being paranormal while I head to work.

There are few trashes, dry noodles packet, frooti paper cans and straw handing by its head, chewed up to look like a chewing gum, I also stepped on a chewing gum, not very new, will go as all I do for next 10 hours is wait for orders, get commands in the rudest way possible from customers, managers that we have 3 of them and boss, his wife when she’s here, his boys, young one’s too young to yet command on cleaning his bike’s leg guard but the older does it every 2-3 days. I run in the bike with the uncomfortable seat that vibrates everything below my stomach as I ride it to one couple who ran away before paying. I do that for 10 minutes, if not I would just double my work as I get back, I have caught a few blokes once in a while, all they say is ‘what, I didn't pay?? , Must have forgotten.’ some of them might be honest. Not mostly. I remember a young guy with long hair hanging out of his helmet still keeping 4 green hundred rupee notes in this fingers and riding the bike, they were stuck in his gloves zipper. I am not going to bother myself to tail them for far away, I'll say they speed up in the hills. My boss knows this poor bike cant even drag itself in the hills.

As expected, now I am the one to go back to Jamal, wait in line to gate a change of money. See I do not wear a belt and going to the bank is not really a problem but coming back is the worst. I get coins and my pants get lower and lower. They’re heavy jingling coins.

The whole family was back just a moment before I arrive, so today I have to take care of their lunches, do my regular works and play with the young son. I hate that. I don't hate the kid, he has nothing to do with me, he’s small and let him play but shouldn’t I be getting paid for the things I do that really aren’t supposed to be for me. Noone cares to think about that firstly and no one here really cares about what I think. As he plays with he, tickles my stomach while I carry nails and plywood to be mounted behind the counter, I slam drop the wood, the noise was loud, other wooden wall vibrated close to it, i felt it as I touched it to get a support to lift it. But that wasn't loud enough to make that kid cry. 3 hours left, I am hungry, no lunch break in this busy shift Boss sharps his look, like his son is in tears because I nailed this plywood in his forehead.

hey Amar?

yeah

I looked where he’s looking, in the face of whimping kid.

It is very busy today, stay around here and clean after the evening all right?

so, if he’s upset I have to do overtime. I cant do it hungry and cold.

Of course, everyone seems to be very busy today. That is a very good idea ji.

Over time are the worst. he’d have to increase my salary if I stay here every day for long hours so he doesn’t want me to but I do stay here after closing for 5-6 days a month. That doesn't add up in his diary.

I mop the counter, wipe the meters, lock the door and hide the key under sitting bench, a little hole there underneath the broken marble floor. The bench is stuck to it, but one of the legs facing back wall has a hole which can be reached lifting the broken marble.

I walk back home, the homeless gang of boys are gone as always. the street has different faces that what I saw this morning, Every face here is tired, wanting to go and rest except the few ones, they re here for the night. To drink and possibly vomit in the face of my petrol station.

I walk up the staircase, it is not as dark as it would be, like a light from the room is spreading itself here. I must have left the light on this morning. I reached up, I was right. I have left the light on. Not only that, I also have my door open, everything seems fine, closet is closed and neat, windows are open to the point I left them open. No thieves then.

I go to bed, there’s no pillow to rest my head and no blanket to keep me warm. Did someone took it? why would you just take a pillow and a blanket? It could probably be the boys I smile at every morning, not changing my clothes I walk up. the lady from stationary and few others who live nearby are there. Tea in their hand. Costs 10 rupees a glass. People like to chat about their day here all the time., local tea boy must have sold it to them. I cant hide the fact my blanket and pillows are stolen.

Didi, have you noticed anyone other than renters climbing the staircase today?

Bhai as you walked down today morning, it no one back there today i believe. Why is anything wrong?

Explain what and how can it even possibly happen, everybody shook their head No. Not an single soul cared about asking if I have blanket for the night today. I paniked and left the stationary shop. Moving my feet to where the homeless guys always rest. they’re there. they have fire on and a jerkin. They saw me, normally homeless people hide their alcohol when they see people but they didn't. I have to ask them if they’ve seen anything weird.

I didn't see you guys while I was coming back, but do any of you happen to have seen anyone carrying a blanket and a pillow on the road?

you got yours stolen?

yeah, is that normal?

Police don't bother to catch homeless for stealing anything that has no value. For winter they steal blankets to sleep inside temples.

Why are they complaining about homeless? Aren't they the one? I cant really ask if they’re the same type.

Who’d you think has taken them?

not from this area, locals will beat them naked tied to the electric pole. Surely form some other area.

you guys should know, you’re always here.

That doesn’t mean we’re homeless. we are just drunks in night and lightly drunks in the day.

As one talks, another from the group adds,

you can join us today. Drink on us for the night and drink for us the next morning.

hmm

Buying what you’ve drank or even more for the company. Nothing is free. Not even these streets, it costs us clean clothes and groomed hair and not so torn shoes to be sitting here. Homeless are always on the move, by locals and local police. I heard police now has patrols just for homeless.

I realised I am drunk, hiding the cc. glass full of neat alcohol, rice whisky. I’d love it with spicy edamame, corn that's fried or a chicken soaked in chilli juice that forgives tongue the taste of dirty whisky. Its the street, the cold chisel of the night and weak work rotten mind that takes a shot, closing my eyes and sharing spit with the drunk stuck in steel glass.

I am recommended to use foam, white foam. I don't know what they are made up of but they say that will keep me warm. it everywhere, collecting dust and smoke from old tippers. Its shiny and white when you buy a new TV, AC and a washing machine. i don't fancy any of those so I have never touched a brand new white foam but I see lot of those near electric shops around Jamal.

I collect those, it is already almost morning. As I drunk drag, drop bend down and carry dirty white foams into my room to escape the drunkenness, didi looks at me. Bhai, what are you doing. The fellow outside her shop looks at me as surprised as her. I know him. lives around. Next one next to him knows my face as well. The lady next to him the same. Now I feel everyone on the street knows me. everybody is looking at me.

I go to bed, hungry, tired and drunk, see the door that's not closed but who cares, there’s nothing with me to steal. You’ve stole my blanket. better come here look at me snoring in dirt and tuck me back with the blanket again, like it all will be a bad drunken dream.

when I woke up, the door was shut. The first thing I saw with a hungover head. Heavy, axed into the pillow less bed.

I walk down after the gulp of water. Cold. Again. I cant bother to heat it. I cant even bother to breathe but somewhat it happens by itself.

I go down to didi.

That's not the way she looks at me. Her view has distance marked for me to not come close.

bhai, you slept on a foam.

ah didi, i had no blanket turns out it does really hold the heat.

okay, but still. its okay people who know you saw it. Not people who shouldn’t have.

yeah, choice less mind brings better ideas than a mind filled with options. It worked.

She got busy with customers. I took a walk into Jamal. The messy rigid streets.

Amar!! yesterday should have asked me about blanket. I had one extra, thin piece. why collect garbage form the street into your room.

He was there listening to me on didi’s shop. I want to say you’re the one to have a blanket, why recommend me now.

No no, that's okay, life has given a taste of sleeping in the garbage. Apparently it is hot.

I took a milk tea, a parle-g biscuit and walked my way to petrol station.

The rumors have spread there as well. My boss, his youngest child and manager knows about white foam over night. how? do bad things spread that quick.

If everybody could see me carrying a foam, why cant you see a guy carrying used blanket and a pillow. You just didn’t care. Being good enough to shut my door showing garbage, wasn’t that good enough to shut when there was a bed with no one on it?

After the work, everyone offered me suggestion, saw me carrying a cheap Chinese blanket and give suggestions in the hands that are eager to let the blanket down.

You should have passed a night without blanket, i have done it in the mountain.

Thieves can be anywhere, a blanket thief is the worst. They steal your pride and you sleep. at least you still have pride. Its just me saying that cause I care.

I am glad to know that you don’t. Sorry, please keep my pride. Don't now bomb it in my chest.

So there then I know my future of next few days or weeks or entire winter to get suggestions on what to do when the blankets gone. Thank you for just lending me your cheap suggestions. I’d like to take that warmth instead of them next time that comes to me.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 3 years ago

Text

Naudash

udas ko ulto sabda k hola ta? khushi? ma khushi xaina nimitta ma udashi ko odar ma bishram liyeako ta pakkai hunna. kamsekam harek din chai pakkai hunna. dherai jaso din bhaye pani. yei akal jhukal din ma auta bisesta lukeko huda raixa. auta samaye auxa, tei ho Naudash.

suruwat nai khai kasari bhayo, sayad bihana ekai xin pani pareko thiyo.Bato hilo ai afu lai seto lagauna mann parne. Seto ma jati daag laye pani tesko muni seto nai hunxa. Saffa. chuttauna na sakine k ma bhane ma akarshit ke kura ma bhaye, fohor ko patra ma lukeko seto ma ki, seto lukaune hilo bato ma. tei ta ho, ghar tira pani parepaxi. jata pani hilo. bato hidyo, jata xa haluka utheko bhandai, tes din ta bato bhari bhayeko dhunga, etta, chau chau ko khol sab ko mahatto hunxa, ek pahila bhaye pani hilo bata ta bachauxua ni. aha, tyo din ta testo tanab nai ayena. hilo xa ta thikai xa ni, yetro rishayera k garnu. kati sarkari karmachari lai mann manai gali garnu bato banena bhanera. Tei karmachari sano huda pakkai gali garthyo hola barsa lage paxi, yina haru le kahaile na banaune bhaye bhanera. Ma k tauko dukhaunu, jata jata pau sukkha hunxa teti khutta rakhxu bhanne thane ani hidey lukhur lukhur.

afu lai khelna mann parne tyo bela, bihanai pani ma hideko pani khelnai thiyo. Pani parepaxi chaur ma hilo badera khelna pattakai milne haina. jutta bigrinxa, ladinxa, khelkud samagri bigrinxa. sabai audainan ani eklai kheleko khel pani k khel.

pani ma hideko xu, seto jutta kalo mato layera kharani rang dekhauna khali sakyo, ek ghanta ko bato xa, ajai arko adhi hidnai xa, khairo tick tick dekhiyeko seta jhyal lai pani yo hilo le chopi dinxa ani khairo ta kaha ko kakha, kalo nai bhai dinxa. trouser ko bid lai kalle rokne, tesai ko sangat ma rang pani badi dinxa. adha bato ma balla soch ayo yo khel hunna aja ta bhanera. ma hideko chai k ko lagi ta. gayera chaur ko darsan garna? sarlakka gadi dekhe, ghar tira jane, khali khali micro, setai tyo pani. farkim ta? feri ghar na pugdai pani rokiyo bhane kheldai lai kasai le rokhdaina. tahya hilo ta ajai hunxa, ladne chiplo ek minute mai ta pakkai sukdaina, samagri pani bigrinxa nai tara auxam hami sabai. bas pani pari raheko hunu bhayena. tei aas ma micro lai chyapna diye fohor pani, kammar dekhi muni sabai bhiyeko xa. aha, aba ta farkine nai haina.

Pugne bela ma je socheko thyakkai tei bhayo, kala badal ta thiye tauko mathi tara badal thaki sakyo. mero josh, tyo bigeko pidaula trouser le gumsayera daudida pasina le pani poti deiyexa. Jada bhijeko thiye, ekxin paxi farkida bhijeko ajai xu tara nunilo pasina ra thakan ma. bhoko pet ma nuhauda aha malai pida thiyena. bihani bhari bhijera lageko thakan, bhijera nai niko bhayexa. Naudash yei hola, ma ramako ta pakkai thina, jaha samma lagxa mero khel tyo din khasai ramro pani thiyena, hareko ho ki jasto lahxa tara mann xai hareko thiyena. Thikai xa. khana khanu agadi aru kei khaiyo. Kich kich. huna pani ho bihanai hilo ma khelera ako xa, ma ghar ma basrea pakauda khane manx tyo haal ma auda ma pani thal ma khana chancha ma kich kich nai dinthe hola ni. Thikai xa, yei nai ta hola ni Naudash. K xa bhanda, thikai xa.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 4 years ago

Text

Bus don’t stop

Funny. If I think about the rage they had. You’ll listen to each other but try to convince each other to ignore listening to yourself. My house always has that. I would call myself junior Joshi., Mind you, this Joshi always witnessed war for years and years. The family war. Maybe that is how I learned Nepalese. Listening to verbal squabble. My father works in a petrol station. He starts very early, if i am not sick and awake in the earliest of morning, I've never seen him fresh in the morning. I can’t imagine him just waking up, fresh. I remember his mom visited us once. I am not mature enough in her eyes, she said I have a lot to experience but I think I am big enough. I am already 10 or 11 years of age. Wait a minute. I need to count. I have my birth year written in my school's diary. I am mature enough to count the current year. I’ll have a look at it later. The point is she thinks I am just a child. My neighbour's daughter is a child, she can't walk. I can walk like a grown man. She is wrong at that. I can forgive her; she has a habit of drinking black tea in the morning. My mom says my dad always drinks tea before going to work, I have never seen him drinking black tea.

I have seen him drinking. A lot sometimes and that's a day before I get this free action movie. Quarrels and name calling. After dinner. She loves him. She doesn't say a word before dinner or else he might be angry enough to skip the meal. Meal with fresh green chilly on the side. Yesterday I saw him drinking. Again. I am tucked into bed right after my dinner. I am warm on my bed after rice, daikon pickles and chicken soup. If it's slightly early I cover my head with the blanket. I can hear them talk. It's not shouting but louder than talking. There are a bunch of random words I can understand, other than that are just muffles. The blanket doesn’t help at all.

I thought I was sleeping. Turns out my mom woke me up. She doesn’t do that regularly. First time ever. It is still that same night. I don’t know what time it is and there is no way I can understand analogue clocks. The one hanging on the corridor passes right through my head, half sleepy and the other half trying to figure out what’s going on. My bag is zipped. My mom’s bag is packed. A bigger bag than usual. We aren’t going on a day picnic as my dad’s not on a mission to load his brown bag made out of yak leather. His favourite bag is not on the play. He is. Sleeping on the couch, half covered with a summer blanket and the other half hanging between the edge of sofa and carpet. . That doesn’t look comfortable.

I was silent till now. I am a bus. Not my school bus. How can every bus I take remind me of the school bus, especially when this is not even on the same road. It is in a different part of the city. I like it as I have a window seat and it's a view I have never seen before. But I have to break my silence. My mom looks like she is sleeping on the seat next to me.

Mom

Surely, she’s sleeping. Must have been awake for a long time yesterday and all this out of nowhere bus ride. I shook her arm.

Mom Mom

She flicks and wakes up.

Yeah, what’s up?

Are we going somewhere?

Yeah. To Nanny’s. Remember her?

I think so. I thought she lives far away.

Yeah, so this bus goes far away.

Where’s she from?

Chitwan. That's where we’re going.

She closed her eyes again. It takes a good effort to sleep on a bus with the engine below you. Mom, you truly are a hero.

It was not much longer, I kept staring at the window when the engine stopped. Rumbling into my imagination I notice we are at the coffee shop. The landscape is unique. There are hills everywhere. River on the side, a big river. The road is so black and empty and beautiful. I am hungry but it can wait. I should touch the road with my fingers. I did it. Felt warm, hard and exciting. Only to realise a moment later that this is a highway.

The journey keeps getting more and more exciting. I have never been to Chitwan before and I hope we will never reach there. Imagine if the bus rides forever. I keep looking outside, people looking at us from hotels and restaurants. Trucks massive in size passing behind us. Greenery everywhere and all those trees look like they know me, they were waiting for me to look at them. They seem so happy. As the bus kept riding the landscape changed, the river moved further away from us. Hills are getting smaller and smaller, at one point it was a forest and road in the middle of nowhere. I wonder how they do it. Making a road is not as easy as laying a carpet that looks like a road in the middle of a forest. Pouches of hills popped out for a while and I unknowingly went past them. They were everywhere and all of a sudden they are not.

That jungle was not even ending, our bus kept going deeper and deeper into it and there’s a market now. Busy. Kathmandu? That’s not Kathmandu. This is a flat land, no KTM taxis and there’s a rickshaw. People are riding on some. Some are empty basking in the sun. Colorful, featherious and triangular. 3 wheels on a vehicle must be a fun ride.

We got off the bus. Mom and I were at the bus stop along with a few other people. I knew they were locals. How? It is hot. Like I am baked, not offended by it. Mom on the side is already complaining. Gave me my bottle of water, I wanted to keep my mouth as dry as possible to see how far I can tolerate the heat. I could have gone dry-mouth and still survived but since I took that sip of water, it is unbearable. The heat outside must have helped water to taste like plastic. If i could drink this water bottle it would taste the same. Unlike my mom, I was like a local. I liked the heat. Never felt that hot before.

I am living the dream, we took a rickshaw and the roads are just amazing. It’s flat everywhere. Every street looks the same. Everything is just so similar, the electric poles, roundabouts, houses, parks and especially fields. I’ve never seen this big field before, it's yellow everywhere, as far as my eye can see. I can see one thing everywhere, happiness. People on the streets are happy and so do street dogs, cars, buses, rickshaw and rickshaw drivers, Childrens in school dress which is very different from mine. I wear white shirt and grey pants. In Chitwan it looks like they have sky blue shirts and dark blue pants. Little children running in blue on a yellow background. Wow, I should stay here forever. Maybe when Mom’s not around, I’ll pamper Nanny to keep me with her.

Mom’s got a good memory. Surely she’ll know her face. I can't remember my Nanny, I’ll pretend I recognized her straight away when I see her.

Don’t forget to greet and touch her feet okay.

My Mom’s concerned. Mostly I remember to do that.

Of course. I am big enough to know that now mom.

People have soulful connections. We will recognize our people. I saw a bunch of people but none of them made me feel like they’re my Nanny. She did. Once glance and it clicked. I don't know what went inside me, I ran and hugged her. She smiled. That's all.

Ayush !!

That’s my mom's voice. I turned back to her. Facing her unknowingly. She gave me that “oh boy, you messed it up” look and coughed

Ahem Ahem Ahem

Oh no, I forgot to greet Nanny. That makes me take a sharp turn, slam my fingers into her toes and whisper

Namaste Nana, Nammy, no no Nanny. Namaste Nanny Namaste

She giggled. Like she didn’t even care about that.

My excitement to look at this new world must have slipped a thought of feeling tired. My mind surely forgot about that but not my body. I am straight into bed. Most unique bed I've slept on.

Next day, Mom and Nanny were already in the kitchen. They looked fine, I woke up and saw them through the window. They are cooking. They must be talking stuff about my dad. I feel kind of sad but I still don’t know what makes my Mom come here taking that bus ride.

I walked out. Who cares about nodding good morning to my own Mom? On the street, next to the slow stream of the river ( I later found out that they were irrigation canals), 2 girls and 1 boy, roughly my type. I feel like I should talk with them.

Heya

All of them looked at me like I am a monkey with an orange t-shirt. That confused me. Maybe I am a monkey with an orange t-shirt. One of them opens their mouth,

Hi, who you?

I am here at my Nanny’s.

Girl with red ribbon is the second one to speak up

I don’t think we know your nanny

Another one takes the turn

Saw you coming out of that blue house, that old lady is your Nanny?

Yeah. That one. You know her?

Uh huh, she’s been here for a long time, as long as I can remember. Don’t kick the ball into her field, whatever goes into her field won’t come back into your hand.

We played football. They’re good at it. I’ve never played on raw muddy turf before and if you fall over there it doesn’t hurt. How good is that? If you're playing and crash on the ground, it won't hurt. No scratches, no bleeding, just dirty trousers, shoes and t-shirt and hair and fingernails. I am in love with the dirt. They’re trying to avoid the mud from touching their clothes, but I am not going to care about this stuff. This is going to make me look like I've been giving a good effort on football.

It is pure happiness. I have not seen anybody screaming in anger. Not seeing an upset face. Everybody my mom knows or my Nanny knows smiles at me, cheers me up. I even saw a teacher that lived nearby, no teacher smiles at you every time. She saw me pale and muddy, by that time even my hair had mud in it but no, not even a non-smiling face for me. People are just always happy here.

I have started playing with them all day. I saw children in school dress on the very first day but they’re playing with me all day every day. As the sun kicked in, I walked along with them, we caught some wild berries and stole lemon from a nearby field. That dude bought a pocket full of sugar and mixed the berries with squeezed lemon and sugar.

It tastes like lemonade, but you can chew it. They were so instant. We sat in a circle, putting out banana leaves on top of marinated berries.

Heya, we can sneak into the stadium.

What? Where? I am surprised.

There’s one nearby.

Why would I say no to illegally going inside a football stadium? We decided to lie to my Nanny and sneak me in. What's the lie?

We’re taking Ayush to the temple. We’ll worship and come back.

Evening arrived. They’re good at team work. Everybody bought it. We didn’t. Remember we’re out to the stadium without a ticket.

It’s huge. Big white walls surrounding the football field. Noisy and no one of our age. We felt like we’re special. Apparently, the seats are never full but not empty enough to spot who’s with the ticket and who’s not.

They know a spot outside stand Q. It's a first-class stand and not so crowded. There’s a hole. It looked like I couldn't even fit my two hands together but I was mistaken. 2 minutes later, I am here on the other side. Scratched up knee but who cares, I am big enough to hide my knee.

Before we were even on the seats, people came running towards us. Lots of people.

Kill him. Kill him.

My fellas are acting like they know what's going on, pointing fingers on the other side. They started running. Shall I? Or maybe Should I?

I am running, running like a horse. They’re running like a cheetah. How rare of a scene is it, Horse is running behind 3 cheetahs. Looks like a horse is chasing a cheetah and the horse doesn’t know what he is doing.

That very moment, they stomped their feet. I saw that, I did the same and walked towards them. To not let them know I was a bit behind them I am keeping my mouth shut.

One guy with a beard, thrashed a guy in a jersey’s skull with the seat we were heading to before. Then came 3 other boys, the same jersey punched the hitter in the face, grounded him and kicked right in the face with football boots. Two bodies on the ground, chaos, anger, pain and blood. I can see he got it in the lips, it's like a chicken mince but blood all over it. It didn't stop there. We walked in a group. That same jersey wearing uncle (older than who were fighting) waved his hand, pointing his index finger to go near him. He is angry. How do I know that? First slap was straight at my face. Then to that red ribbon girl, then the other one and my dude got a kick in his bum.

Get out of here you idiots!!!

Okay, we’re idiots and we’re getting out like an idiot. My mom’s going to kill me if she gets where I am at. Got a good blessing on my face.

I shouted with courage,

That’s the way to hole.

Other idiots from my group looking at me together, Nikita speaks

I am scared to go from there.

Girl in a ribbon adding up

We don’t have to go from there. Let’s just take the exit.

We are rushing, there are sticks being fired at a guy helplessly lying in the parking lot. They’re going to beat him till he dies. He shouts like his vocal chord needs to come out of his mouth. Police van is packed with handcuffs. Women running as fast as she can with baby and blistered elbows. She must have fallen face side but managed to keep it safe.

On the main road of Sitarampur there’s a group of young men with bricks and sticks and stones on their hands. I am very certain my eyes didn't falsify rock in the air. Some women or some child with no idea what's going on is going to get hurt. Not this time, by the grace of luck but there are a lot more objects in the air. Sorry, there are a lot of things in the air apart from rocks and punching arms like anger, agony and hatred but not love.

Returning to Nany’s from the temple, I am not asked how the temple was. My Mom and Nanny are sitting on the porch with black tea on a silver cup, Mom started starts to question

You know not to lie? You think you’re big enough? And why would you lie going to the temple? I would have bought you tickets instead. How did you get inside? You stole my money?

I lost count on how many questions are to be answered. I should thank Nanny someday for being a bone in the middle.

I didn’t expect you to go there. Your new friends are definitely getting batons on their legs by now. Shall I do the same?

Mom’s fine. I normally see her upset with dad, this time she’s upset with me but Nanny.

Sorry Nanny. I thought I was going to have fun. I don’t know if I can ever forget what I saw.

It never is a nice meal if you eat it with guilt. Had it not been the case, there is mustard field ahead of me and the sun's just touching the ground after it. I have Roti, yoghurt with banana, fried edamame and buck choy. Yet, all I am eating is regret.

People aren’t always good for you. Once they get to know you it doesn’t happen. Knowingness steals smiles from people’s faces. There are now a lot less smiles. I was a part of the riot. I meet Nanny’s neighbour and they don’t smile at me anymore. People aren’t always happy over here. There are people covered in pain with broken skulls and busted lips resting and regretting. I find Nikita with a shopping bag heading for the shop, I am forced not to join. Nanny and Mom are quiet all day. Yesterday, I wish yesterday never happened. I feel bad for letting Mom be sad again. Maybe she is here to forget all the sadness my dad taped her with and there I seared her with another layer.

The good thing is yesterday won’t happen again. It is the last morning I am spending in Chitwan. Going back to the roads that showed me happiness and just only joy. No pain and no sadness. Now each person I see on the street, I wonder if they were there in the stadium. Maybe the guy in worn out jeans is the one flying rocks in the sky or he could be the one who missed it by inches. I waited and waited for hills to come by. People who knew Stadium only in pictures or words or videos. I now want to be with people who didn't breathe the same football field air.

As we stepped into the major bus, I can perceive that Mom knows what is waiting for her. Same sadness, different city.

Mom

Mom I am sorry Mom

Either she really meant it or doesn’t want to see my sad face,

It’s okay. Not that you knew that’ll happen.

This time I am wishing that this highway never ends. The bus just keeps on coming back to the same hill deceiving us. We are on the transition from one sadness to another. I surely can see joy back in Kathmandu. I like my school. I like the weather; it never makes me think It’s hot. But then again, there’s a lot to sorrow for. I wish again, this highway never ends.

Just Me and my mom waiting. Not waiting for anything. Just waiting.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Warm buzz

A antique of the weather to describe its actuality. Just some type of the day you face where you are surprised by the weather. A hot and warm summer approaching climate suddenly when makes you think about the long coat hanging on the cupboard ready to go and hibernate to come into your hand and mind says, i need this today. Next situation you find yourself is changing from shorts and slim cotton tshirt to a bulky wool and boots. So is winter back again? There was an article about how 1 in 4 of us suffer from condition called winter blues, being not happy about winter and cold weather. If you are the one, sorry but yeah its hectic isnt it.

The funny part of this kind of day is that the streets are full of characters. Some still in shorts and slippers and the other one is with a long coat hiding the sweater inside. Possibly ignoring the weather could ruin all your day. Feeling coolness inside office and skin just yells at you for not noticing what you did this morning. Its very uncomfortable to be in the cold. Personally, I prefer getting broiled with heat wave than even to face a slight bit of cold. The luncheon arrives.

You roll yourself down the elevator and hit the ground floor. Similar funny cloting. How's the blue jacket man doing? Cool? No you're warm and I am cool. Haven't you felt that mini moment of warmth right in the sun between shadows. Charges the body so damn quicker than those fast charging cables. Just when you know you're unconsciously looking for sunny spot, that when you love the sun. Yeah it did gave you heat rash and sun burnt also if you live in highly radiant places from sun, its the worst enemy but forget all that, its giving me warmth. What else can I ask with it. The exact game of funding the roofs walking in the rain, the sun time.

If you're sunbathing have you realised those sleepy moments where you never want to leave the sun and keep hugging it. Those warmth warmth feeling.

1 note · View note

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Bucket of butterfly

Theres a variety in us. There's a difference, by that it states a lot of variation. We no different in terms of blood, we all bleed red and we all are are humans for good. Yeah, all that but its a long script we are playing. We come along with different types of people. Its so wonderful to see how diverse we are now. Nature has a pattern everywhere, a tropical soil has a warm air and a mountainous atmosphere is chilled but a tropics in each location is different on people, their food is different their thinking is different, their art and songs and festivals. We from mountains form different aspect to see happiness. Girl from andes doesnt need buddhist 5 coloured cotton flags waving in slow wind to smile, she looks for valley far down where they are kicking the dusty ball with heavy shoes. I've met people dying for guitar, playing so much that their skin gets lagged and some people on line with a rugby ball on hold and running for good. Such a different thinking of life.

I am different, a normal guy with a taste of folk and jazz and there is a class mate from school who spent similar time on a same environment, living on hostel and out of school boundary for 2 days a month but he did love heavy metal. How? Its just a conversation we had with ourselves all the time that speaks out.

A lovely lady is sitting infront of me with a topics of chats going on and drinking wine, she says , today I wrote 6 pages of semi fiction on the topic girl I knew. She had known what I am here trying to say. Its about a girl she met on first season of her college and she now have 7 year of full time working experience. Its massive time spent on life. She compares her character with what its now. How they were alike and now she turned different. If I should quote her, " she turned into different person from what she started."

How different are we going to be? How many me are there on this world? Everyone is talking with themselves, so there are me everywhere.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Get fed up but continue

Not again. This is enough. Again have to do this again? This is when we raise up our skill. What do you think about the word professional? You are professional at doing something even if its not given higher value socially. Think of the worst job title you can think off. Lets say its what you’re doing at the moment and your work day goes smooth as butter. If you’ve got dish washing as a job but if you do it then there is no choice but to push the limit as you wash dishes. After a day of washing, your hands are soggy and nails are all thickened and numb, with wrinkles on palm side of your fingers then you’ll figure it out on your mind that the limit of doing dishes on quantity before the beginning of that shift is walking down the cliff you’ve just climbed. After a week of washing dishes you’ll start to think about the easiest shift you’ve done in past week. Then your’e expert at washing dishes.

You see, whatever we are doing, some time there comes the moment where your mind says no.your body says no but working under someone leaves you no choice but to do it like nothing happened for the past 6 hours. Do it for some months or years and you can claim to be professional. Isn’t that what we wanted? To be expert at whatever we are working on.

pick a pen and a paper or buy a diary from the store one day, so motivated to completely fill up that black diary that the fresh smell of newly flipped paper enhances your mind. “From now on I will write here everyday.” Its just like an impact from the movie you’ve recently watched. Watching Inside Llewellyn Davis after dinner time inside a warm cozy blanket and thinking I need to be a musician, that sings the heart out, that sings ever sadness I see, every happiness or love. That is life. Life as a rock-star. Next day, You’ll be on the screen with MIB playing on it and mind goes to the train ride where you are detective solving weird crimes and saving the world. What an impact isn’t it?

To do something at the moment is always beautiful but to do it even being bored, and leaving no option for mind to think is another thing. Maybe that’s why an intern is always given repetitive task, Remember if you’ve gone through that phase or if have not you founding yourself to photocopy 20 copies of same file and arranging it for 3 hours is no big deal. What do that teach us? That teach us to debunk stress in that industry. If I have to talk with 2 different people at the same time on a hot summer day, sweating by balls out on a two entirely different topic making both of the interaction interesting, I’ll stress out but that wouldn’t be the case on a girl with a 2.5 years experience on a customer service on a busy retail shop.

But what if we do the things we love? Simple answer, We usually don’t get sick of the stuffs we love to do that’s why we keep on doing it. An athlete spending hours upon hours running your community park everyday is not determined but its just doesn’t make him bored. I hope I never get bored of writing stuffs and you never get bored of doing stuff you claim to be your passion. Remember, the day or the moment you get bored of doing it, passionate feeling to that attachment is gone.Put differently, Its not your passion anymore but its an attachment.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Insomnia torture

what will you do when you have nothing to do? Relax isn’t it? Dart night with an early morning shift eyes pointing towards ceiling and dry mouth even after just 5 minutes of drinking a cold cold water. A frequent trip to washroom and a temperature difference when you cover yourself with a blanket all of a sudden. Its not the end. Its just a beginning.

shall we talk about all the beginning process that undertakes the generation of the thought ‘I am unable to sleep today’. That exact point. Till then, its not much of a big deal. A 2019 human being might realize that with eyes locked in smartphone nut if not, the first thing would be that. Checking time and social media. Scroll through a bunch of articles and that becomes boring sooner or later. A feed turns to chat box and then hope of being connected with someone till the time brain decides to shut down the consciousness. It aint easy. Things often don’t take this long to end but if it doesn’t, its the sunrise. Nope, not the dawn. The sunrise for the time of torture. I am not exaggerating like a guy living in luxury but a torture is a torture. okay what next?

A continuous movement and a every two times in a minute thought, I should try to make an effort to fall asleep. As this sentence repeats in high frequency, dry eye and the friction that is created in frequent posture change and a funny exhausting exhale. That’s real funny. One step to the right. Exhale another one and another exhale. The friction that has heat starts to show effects. Burning blanket but if you snatch out of you and put it aside, just after a moment, its back to uncomfortable shivering. This makes us put effort even more.

A medicine to torture and impatience is music. Music heals isn’t it. Not every time. There’s a research based on music and sleeping. Listening to music after waking up in the morning helps to be more alert. Yet we still try to listen and relax. Its a very good thing that someone else is online and beginning to have a conversation late in the night. Mind that’s stressed out brings out some best topics to discuss, but that’s not an every day scenario. Most of the time passes by having a craftsmanship attitude just to fall asleep. As a gentleman, grabbing a penis while sleeping and having a naughty thought shall not be ignored and being a girl sleeping on a chest hard pressing boopies with wild thought. Its just a part of life isn’t it. There’s an insomnia experience in all of us. Yet we still try to make an effort. we make and make those effort and work hard to fall asleep but as a matter of fact, when mind tries all that have in an account and then surrenders, you blink and its morning. Not a good nights sleep but still, something to think about that night and calculate how many hours did you sleep that night.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Getting hands dirty

lets get dirty, this is not only for the sexually aroused moment to say upon. Just wondering, there is a lot in common about the phrases we say in bed and outside yet no body notices a funny side of that. well some one in a bunch of our brain does. Lets not get that excited because it is not about sex and sexual stuffs we are here to talk about but rather a happiness in something we normally don’t prefer to be on and yes that includes dirtiness.

whats more to say, if a teenage boy love with cricket says, I hate you more than rainfall. Sorry lady, he aint yours now and he never be. In a rainy day a third world sporting academy, even if its a brand new sports academy there requires maintenance. There would be such a month where it would rain so much that the academy would normally have its off season and renovation at the end of monsoon. I was going everyday even knowing that the ground is fill with mud holes and dirty water and quiet environment. Going there and chatting with a ground curator for a few minutes and then coming back home riding a 1.25 hour bus ride on a peak hour. Next day, This dumb brain would not even guess that it is not possible for me to be playing today if there is a night filled with rain and again in couple of hours the sky will start to cry.

Its seemed to be normal for me to waste money and wake up early every morning but regardless of that there would be a hope. A impossible hope. Every immigrant tells other upcoming immigrant to not come here because of tough life but he wont listen to that part due to the sprout that has been flourished inside her heart saying she might be an exception. That’s false hope. I had that every morning. All of a sudden one of that morning was about to change.

Same normal day and normal 1.5 hour to the academy. Wait, why am I seeing the management committee on the ground. I’ve never done that repairment activities but was intrigued just by looking at it. Doing good for something you love is a bit of a good feeling. Cricket whites but I didn’t even wonder what would my image be if my crush sees me going back home and somewhere along the way. Dirty muddy and stinking. Nope, I had no concern about it but rather I was happy. All those stains were for something good.

Can you guess some other area where you like being dirty? Cooking. Accept it or not, its good to be dirty cooking someday. Yeah, I am making pizza tonight. Nice. lets get flour. okay making the dough and here I begin. Ahh, flour all over in first five minutes. Are you bloody serious? lets take you in the future. Skip half hour of your life and see you rubbing your dusty floury hands on the same apparel you are wearing. You’ll be enjoying it. That’s where the beauty of getting dirty lies.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Uninterested

Influence. This is such a big word. Going inside the tunnel, this thing might match up with a very uncomfortable word in the English language, Effect. Yes, the same effect you feel going to a big goofy clothing store where as planned things never happen. You go there with a kind of image you have been keeping in mind and that normally happens with what you been up-to. For a simpler reference, lets take the web series you are watching. Being in the sixth season of How I met your mother will surely poke you somewhere in the heart about Barney’s idea of wearing a suit to stand out. Well, that is a sit com but surely makes you influenced. little darling, here comes the sun. The morning when those things might have been weeks or a month old and slowly you come back to normal self. Everything in those time makes you lazy. Marketing genius has well studied this rotation we have and then they hit us with a product that’ll take us to where it all started. lets not go to that but stay in the middle ground.

How about terming it. something relative but not that complex to sound that it repels people. Not so common that no one feels like they know something very latest and boost their ego.To say it the other way, just like a nerdic sports fan on their favorite team talk while drunk and with stranger. Effect Hangover. Might be lame to sound but will do the job. My flatmate some days ago was with her circle and I absolutely don’t know why did she had her mind to online purchase the guitar. All of a sudden, she was influenced. Her colleague had a recent graduation party where some of her other friends rocked that stringy bastard. The Barney Stimson mode was activated. I didn’t know a thing about this till it was one day ahead of estimated delivery date. Being on my day off, it was really an experience to see how excitement can a simple thing bring and makes this life a wonderful to live in. Had it arrived, she had a dream like we all do, learning the song that’s in a head. Youtube wouldn’t want to discourage this little darling and gave some video lessons to watch. A one with a perfect thumbnail literally nailed it. First try, as by its name, things either be hit or be called as a try. Every time she entered the room, grasped a guitar. Second day was still the same. Different video for the same song. she was improving or moving the gear up since initiated. Telling her, I am damn sure made her mood good. No kidding, but she went really into it. The more you swim the more you find how unknown the lake is. Bang and the book store. Guitar for beginners. Chords and strings and simple basic guitar thingy.

This guitar clearly didn’t received the same amount of fingering it did when it was new and virgin. From sometimes a day, to sometime once in a while. Its been exactly a same time of the year now and the guitar is collecting dust. 12 months earlier it had a dedicated app in her phone and an expensive book in her backpack every where she was to go. PS the book was hard covered and heavy and had a weird size to fit in ones hand. That excitement is now long gone and guitar is not her taste. According to her one saying on drunken mind over a red, “I was in a process of discovering myself and now I know that I am not for guitar.” Can I even judge her now? And to you little darling, Its called sharing how momentous interest makes us learn. Once every interval, she takes that wood and humps it by hand and then its rather uninteresting. Unlike this there are a lot of things we can be interested on. Like tattoo. I really love those art works but hope I am never exploited to that circle. I will be doomed for rest of my life after those first two years.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Questions that continue

Its almost certain that once a while you have this question, Why? This is a very important word. From sleeping in Caves till now we have always asked this with us. This has taken us to a change in various forms of life. Saying Why to someone else’s decision has lead us to war and stopped a humanity development for a while but not only are there cons in the pages of history. The slavery has ended saying why this slavery. The age of enlightenment or as you say the peace era.

lets not go with the statistics of mass but rather personal. Some of the things do not need reason. A secondary needs to our life, mainly love. Why do you love her? we might have an answer to why we hate this or that but love cant be explained.

just like love a best friend of love or take it as a cut to my previous paragraph. We might love someone or some thing cause that’s beautiful. I love her because I find her beautiful or I love nature because its beautiful. lets ask our self, why is it beautiful to you? or could you define Beautiful at that moment?

We’ve been digging some pretty moments but lets ask why in other aspects. why are we working? what is the point of being angry to that drunk guy shouting on the bus? because you were annoyed. If we all end up at the same situation whats the point of doing anything? We’re all rotting in the grave someday. There’s no such thing that can overcome it. If any of you have a say to the science and our brilliant progression at the medicine industry, imagine no body dying. Lets cancel all the accidents like plane crash and car crash and fire and bullets. If the cancer is cured or HIV AIDS had it self endangered, we are being notorious. The one option is to stop reproducing but what about sex. Sex is fun. There’s double the fun without the rubber and it cant be controlled. So it might not be an option. What else could be there? Second option is nothing. Nothing is there to over come death and replace it ecologically.

This might lead us to an existential crisis but aren’t we all suffering from it, all these years. An innocent child asking questions about universe and answering them saying earth is almost negligible to most of the entities in the universe. We get that feeling. Really? Then why to stressed about our ego and other stuffs. Why limit yourself from really liking some stuffs and really disliking other? Why giving attention to something and why ignoring the other? Is it possible to really ignore everything, literally everything? or Is it possible to give equal attention to everything? when will humanity stop thinking about vagina and stop laughing inside when they are asked to think about any part of human body. This might lead to person not suffering from what the fuck are we doing to suffer but it is what it is.

0 notes

bikalsblog · 6 years ago

Text

supporters depression

First things first, Depression is the term of being mentally ill in terms of medical recognition. It might be but doesn’t imply here.

Being a fan or a fanatic means you have somewhat or someone to believe in. you want them to do good and if everyone else is also doing good, who or whom you believe should be doing excellent in your mind. Sports are one of the beautiful creation of humanity. Every four out of Ten people watch football or soccer in some part of world knowing that whatever is the final result, there is a shit not to be changed in their life unless you’re a gambler and risked a fortnight income on sport betting. Following what they do, how progressive is their game going on to self analysing what was the aspect they fall short on, we keep putting continuous effort of tracking them. Opps, I nearly forgot to mention the excitement at the beginning of a season or a very important match.

Today is the day. Its Australia vs England. Two flatmates and two die hard fans of two competitors battling in. I am all dressed up, a golden and green jersey and a flag with southern cross and lets get rolling. Facebook has got enough of me whom to say ‘hey, I am watching tonight’s game with so much attention that I want you to know about it.’ That’s more of a building up a vibes and lets watch the real game. The wait is over.

what the hell? The very first session of the game and the opponent is dominating us like a nerd teacher dominating a nerd student in a boarding school. Here the depression begins. Wait, why am I still watching? The game is to be forgotten. Like a procrastinating switch just turned on, mind says what if they do a miracle. Hey mind, cant you be a bit realistic? sorry Sweety, It was never predicted before the unrealistic result appeared in sport. It all happened all of a sudden. Yeah, That’s fine with all of that but you’re loosing today no matter what. The social media trolling and the worst part every moment your flatmate celebrates you have that unpleasant rather sad face hanging in your body. Ready to get humiliated for the rest of week with his own philosophy why England is always the champion in the fight with Australia. The match is still on just like a jersey and a flag on my body. Now there are two types of people from this moment.

A normal one will turn off his TV and get a good nights sleep and move on with his life and forgets entirely everything about today and waits till the next time to grab a remote and support the team. A normal busy with his own life kinda guy. There comes another. He claims he is extra ordinary as he is so devoted to this squad that every other people who are not interested in sport looks dumb fuck to him and the kind of fan I mentioned above will be a creepy normal guy. Thats the reason why the first of kind is labelled normal. He lets his mind cling on to the TV and not only a match but also a press conference and the good bye from the channel broadcasting is viewed. Hell be sad for some period of time. This will affect his family, his productivity at work and turns out to be a weirdo in front of English fans. Moreover, He portrays a philosophy of why he still support them like a real fan do and to bitch about English players for some time. If you can, stay away from him or of not try to help him to move on but again if that’s not possible listen my first suggestion. Ta da.

0 notes