Highway to Hills !!

My Travel Confessions !

Travelling is like leaving your trails behind, a way to remember what (beautiful) moments you lived. I recently headed Daaman expecting snowfall with five of my friends. With Chest Infection in the process of being recovered, you wouldn't expect your mom to permit you to travel in a freezing place. You do not feel well; you are taking antibiotics for like more than one month, and your doctor has strictly warned you to stay away from cold. In this situation, can you resist the temptation to go out and travel wild with best of your friends? You sure can, can't you? Yes, I can understand the feeling, the same happened with me.

I said I will be out for a two day conference, yes I know it was not a very bright thing to do, sorry Mom! At 6 in the morning, I packed my bag, kept an extra pair of trousers and stepped out of my house praying that nothing goes wrong. It was dark and I was covered with all-dark cloths. The only part that was uncovered was my left eye. I was sure any vehicle with broken headlights would hit me today. Gosh! I was lucky, no vehicles with broken headlights but a Micro Bus went so close by me that I had a mini heart attack. I met my friend Bunu on the way and we went towards Micro stand. The Micro was almost about to leave when we cried "Micro" "Micro" and ran towards it. In the hurry my mind forgot that I am supposed to keep my head down while entering into a Micro and Bang!

Brain Damage !

source:.....

Recently, a drama show of “Matha Panchar” written and directed by Rajan Khatiwada came to an end in Mandala Theater. Praised and appreciated by many, the drama reflected some of the major concerns of our society. It is a story of a poor village boy who wants to become a government school teacher. He walks in for the interview, stands out as the most qualified one and becomes simply rejected because another authority sends a different teacher for the school he applied. With a sick mother in his home to take care of and constant threats by the local thugs, he finds no other alternate for livelihood than to go for one of the Arabian countries for employment. Who never lost hope even in the darkest days of his life, Bijaya the village boy, returns dead in a dark coffin. And, this is how the drams ends leaving audience with tears and melancholy. 

Well, that is not just the whole story. The circumstances that forces Bijaya to walk out of his country are even more tragic. Remnants of the decade-long  conflict have taken the form of local thugs who are now flourishing in every corner of sub-urban cities and villages. If you think it’s hard to find one; think of the syndicate holders,  karyakartas, dons of terai, smuggling tycoons heard now and then in the Radio and many others disguised behind the impressive luga they wear.

Should I even talk about corruption?