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Blog Type:: Humor
Wednesday, December 16, 2009 | [fix unicode]
 

Phrase of the day: Holy Cow!


Holy cow or sacred cow may refer to:



Proper Names:



  • Holy Cow an Indian travelogue by Australian Sarah Macdonald
  • Sacred Cow, the reconfigured C-54 Skymaster used as the Air Force One during the latter portion of Franklin D. Roosevelt's presidency and the first portion of Harry S. Truman's presidency
  • The Sacred Chao, a fundamental element of Discordianism
  • Sacred Cows, a Contemporary Christian music album by The Swirling Eddies
  • Sacred Cow (album), a 1996 album by Geggy Tah
  • Sacred Cow Productions, founded by director Kevin Booth

   [ posted by 448guru @ 11:50 PM ] | Viewed: 1084 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Sunday, January 11, 2009 | [fix unicode]
 

Stunning! That’s how you are;
you give me sensations-weird and bizarre.
You are sour, you are sweet;
you are someone, I accidentally fell in love with!

You don’t look forward to leave me;
you don’t even lie down, before I pass out to sleep.
You are the cure for diseases, just too many;
insomnia, depression, or ya’all name any!

Without you, I feel so numb;
with you around, I get goose bumps.
A magician and a charmer;
no one but you, can make this heart warmer!

How could I be missing?
On something so divine and soothing.
True that-To find some, we gotta lose ‘THE ONE’;
you hug me, you touch me, you caress me all night long!

Now that I’ve found you;
you love me and I think, I do too.
You are frenzy, strong and funny, LOL;
Yes, you are my new found love – My Bottle of Alcohol!!!

   [ posted by sun_shine @ 11:30 PM ] | Viewed: 1643 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Thursday, October 09, 2008 | [fix unicode]
 

ROLPA /KATHMANDU– While Pushpa Kamal Dahal, alias Prachanda, was greeting a jubilant crowd in remote Rolpa, a woman clad in a red sari positioned herself directly in front of him and pulled his bushy mustache with her two hands. Prachanda yelled ‘Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!!!’ and collapsed. His bodyguards immediately pounced on the woman and dragged her out of the crowd. The woman is currently in custody and under interrogation.

The tree plantation ceremony, which was to be later inaugurated by Prachanda on the premises of Jana Chetana High School, was cancelled. Prachanda was rushed to Kathmandu in a helicopter and admitted to Birendra Military Hospital, Chhauni. Dr Gobardhan Singh said that four strands of mustache were missing but the general health condition of the PM was good and there was no need for panic. He further revealed that Prachanda has been discharged from the hospital and he is on his way to Bebo Salon for further treatment.

The capital is currently abuzz with speculations as to who could have been the ones behind such a horrific and cowardly act. The Nepali Congress has already issued a statement denying any charges that the woman who pulled Prachanda’s whiskers is affiliated to their party. Al Qaeda’s Nepal Office at Tripureshwar has also pasted a notice saying that they were not involved in the incident. Asif Khan, the spokesperson for AQN, hinted that the culprits could be either the US or India. Neither the US embassy nor the India embassy could be reached for their comments.

Hom Nath Bhandari, the editor-in-chief of Pahile Kai Yug, expressed anger, “This incident places the nation’s security and sanctity at jeopardy. What was Bame [Bam Dev Gautam, the Minister for Home Affairs] doing at that time? Chasing those poor dancers while the PM’s security is so flagrantly being violated?”

A witness to the incident, on the condition of anonymity, revealed that the woman in fact appeared in front of Prachanda with the intention of touching his feet but Prachanda lunged forward to deny her that privilege. When Prachanda instead proceeded to hug her, she got scared and inadvertently pulled those whiskers. The so-called security breach is Maoist propaganda, the witness confides.

Meanwhile, the ousted king Gyanendra Shah is reported to have been frequently coming out of his dwelling at Nagarjuna and roaming the streets of Thamel; incognito and inebriated.

--- Kobalt Kainla

http://kobaltk.blogspot.com/

   [ posted by kobaltkainla @ 11:23 AM ] | Viewed: 2440 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Tuesday, July 08, 2008 | [fix unicode]
 

I am building up a nation, a new and a developed nation. For this I am counting on my people. My people are uncorrupt and will do whatever it takes for the development of this new nation. This was something I wanted to do for a long time; and finally, the moment has arrived. I am going to be the pioneer for the development of this nation. I have enough qualification and experience to get the job done.

I sacrificed about 15 years of my career for the sake of this nation. In these 15 years, I was underground, in a jungle somewhere collecting unemployed people, with whose help I formed my own army. I basically gave them free training and their salary was a part of their loot (wealth forcefully snatched from the villagers of their own region). I however took the big balance of the loot. In the mean time I assured the looted villagers that the fight I was fighting for was actually for them. I also assured them that the loot would be given back to them. All they needed to do was to support me and work hard to earn it all over again. I am glad that they trusted me. After all, I am a trustable person.

As them villagers, I am not foolish. Seldom, out of nowhere I did a nice job, a heroic job indeed. I’d beat a bad guy and help the good one. But to show, that my authority still exists, I didn’t hand them over to the police. Instead, I punished them (if they did not give me the asked funds). Doing this I was signaling the police to back off or DO NOT INTERFARE!!

I am aware of the other political forces in this nation but I am better than them. My superiority is my 15 years. In those 15 years I struggled hard. I made money, built my personal army and troubled and killed loads of innocent people. Doing this gave me an idea of the topography of my nation, and also helped me understand the needs of its fellow citizens. I can better understand this nation then any of you politician folks out there. And I can well prove it to you on the basis of my arms and army. If you still don’t trust me, feel free to ask the mafias out there. They’ll be more than happy to assure you about my capability.

Right now I am a superstar. I won the elections. It was not difficult at all to compassionate the uneducated fools out there. As for the educated ones, we re-educated them. The ones who did not understand, our army was ready to tutor them at their convenient times.

This is my prime time. I actually wanted to become the George Washington of my nation. I however changed my plans later; after the decision was made to give no power whatsoever to Mr. Washington. I am still in search for that rightful puppet (Washington) whose strings I plan to hold. I am also going to bring my army to nation’s power. They will happily serve the nation. In this way, no one will be able to stop me from being a dictator. I meant ‘The Prime Minister’.

These things are for sure going to happen; I am however in a dilemma for what to do about my promised development of this nation. I am pretty sure I cannot change the face of the nation. Well as time goes by, I hope my fellow citizens will understand that this nation cannot be changed. I have a dream, a dream when all the boys and girls and men and women of this nation will be aware that the fate of this nation has been cursed and cannot be fixed. I have another dream too. Being me, I deserve another dream. I dream nobody ever realizing, ‘All I ever wanted was Power, Money and Fame’.”

   [ posted by lyause @ 07:27 AM ] | Viewed: 1724 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Saturday, March 17, 2007 | [fix unicode]
 

हर्केको अन्तर्वार्ता


हर्के लाई जागिर खान को निम्ती अन्तर्वाता दिनु पर्ने छ, ऊ आफ्नो पालो कुरेर बसेको छ, ऊ भन्दा अगाडिको साथी अन्तर्वाता दिएर निस्केपछि उसले हतार हतार सोध्छ-" के के सोध्यो भित्र?"
उसले भन्यो-"पहिलो राणा प्रधानमन्त्री को हो? भनेको थियो, जँग बहादुर भनिदिएँ, बहुदल कहिले आएको हो भनेको थियो, २०३६ देखि प्रयास गरेको, आउन चाहिँ२०४६ मा आएको, भनिदिएँ, अनि चन्द्रमा मा बस्ती बसाउन सकिन्छ रे हो?भनेको थियो, खोइ सबै त्यसै भन्छन्,साँचो के हो मलाई थाहा छैन भनिदिए,”
हर्के को पालो आइसकेको थियो ऊ भित्र गयो, उसलाई उत्तर हरु कन्ठै थियो,
उसलाई सोधियो-"तपाई को नाम के हो?
हर्के: जँग बहादुर,
फेरि उसलाई सोधियो, “तपाई कहिले जन्मिनु भएको? “
हर्के: “२०३६ देखि प्रयास गरेको, आउन चाहिँ २०४६ मा आएको।“
प्रश्न सोध्ने हरु छक्क पर्दै- "हैन, तपाई पागल हुनुहुन्छ कि क्या हो?
हर्के: “खोइ सबै त्यसै भन्छन्,साँचो के हो मलाई पनि थाहा छैन “

Source: www.sangalo.be

   [ posted by digital_sangalo @ 09:30 AM ] | Viewed: 2996 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Thursday, January 18, 2007 | [fix unicode]
 

STRICTLY HUMOR

The gori details
by oohi ashu

Nothing like a modelling contest to remind you that beauty is only skin deep . . .

So there I was in CatManDo, working hard on a PowerPoint presentation all through Saturday afternoon, wondering what to do at night to let off some steam.

Should I call up friends and go see Mani Ratnam's movie "Yuva' at Jai Nepal Cinema with dinner at Thamel's Jatra afterwards? Or chill out with them at an airport sekuwa-ghar with beer? Or I could make some thick soup at home, and curl up with Ha Jin's book "The Bridegroom". Then again, listening to some humid jazz at one of Lazimpat's smoke-filled bars sounded good too.

Then the phone rang. My buddy Surendra Man Sthapit (aka SMS) was inviting me to the finale of 2004 Saboon Sundari Star Contest.

"For free, yaar,' SMS went on. "I've got you a pass, through my wife's employer. There's dinner afterward. Be
at Hyatt Regency at seven. I'll meet you at the lobby. And, uh, wear something nice, ok?.'

OK, sir!

The Hyatt was packed to the rafters with Kathmandu's who's who. Not the literary, poetic types -- with soulful doggy eyes. Nor the rabble-rousing political brigade, with left (or is it right?) arms up in the air. These were corporate types with Khajurao-figured wives in various stages of undress.

The multinational crowd was there in force, and so were
the media tycoons with their pretty secretaries. Elderly women - matronly types - sporting salt-and-pepper hair, were resplendent in their saris. The men were all dressed like Naya Sadak bankers. All seemed to know one other,
and in the pre-event cocktail, they all chatted with one another with effortless rib-poking banter.

The show begins.

Eighteen girls make an appearance, each wearing outrageously skimpy costumes that no sane woman would wear on the streets of Kathmandu. The models are scrawny —some look positively underfed, fit to appear on a Department of Health warning-against-malnutrition poster.

"Don't they feed these girls?" I lean over to SMS.
"Only lettuce," he answers.

What are these, then?
Goats?

The ethnography of the contestants is fascinating, and some of the visibly non-bahuni lasses have bahun surnames. What is going on here?

"When bahuns sleep around, they contribute to the melting pot of this great nation,” whispers someone next to SMS. The guy seated in front gives us a dirty look: we are ruining his concentration, with our discourse on amateur anthropology.

Well, it looks like the fair ones have an advantage in this contest. And sure enough, the dusky ethnic types -- despite all their pouts, oomph and writhingly sultry allure -- don't stand a chance.

The winner is as gori as she can be: Fair & Lovely indeed!

Feeling a bit out of place, I survey the audience: The Kathmandu elite in attendance is composed of old-line aristocrats -- largely irrelevant these days and in need of money. There are the yunnies (young, upwardly-mobile nepalis) who have amassed new money but are in the process of acquiring class by attending beauty contests as invited guests. And what could be better for both types than to cross-pollinate one other . . . to see and be seen together at events such as these?

Over in the far corner are those 60-something men who can't seem to get enough of the 18-year-olds' sashaying down the ramp, with their hips going clicketi-clack. Next to us is a nattily dressed Alfa Male who displays an enthusiasm for chatting up other people's wives while neglecting his own. The corporate also-wannabes are clicking away with their Olympus digitals just so they can ogle at the pictures with co-workers on Monday morning.

Given the state of the country (and this is 2004, folks!), I guess it is a form of escapism to spend a Saturday evening watching other people watching beautiful young women.

Hell, I could still get back to Ha Jin.

[Originally posted in parts on Sajha Kurakani, and subsequently published under a pseudonym in The Nepali Times newspaper, 2004

http://www.nepalitimes.com/issue/199/NepaliPan/2562 ]

   [ posted by ashu @ 11:42 PM ] | Viewed: 2963 times [ Feedback] (5 Comments)


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Blog Type:: Humor
Monday, November 06, 2006 | [fix unicode]
 

Dusshasan was voted as the greatest idiot because he was pulling and pulling he saree of Draupadi...instead of lifting it.

   [ posted by unknown guy @ 11:05 AM ] | Viewed: 1781 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Tuesday, October 17, 2006 | [fix unicode]
 

I read in the news, many months ago, that people in Canada were concerned that the 18 billion dollars that their federal government was thinking of spending in healthcare for the next six years would cause a deficit in their economy! Do you really think that they were worried about the deficit? It�s only 18 billion dollars. It�s not even the American dollars; it�s Canadian dollars.

Of course they�re not worried about the deficit. They�re only teasing the Americans, to put it nicely. They were pissing the Americans off, to put it bluntly. They don�t want to let go of the opportunity to ridicule America for the something-trillion dollars American deficit. But they did not know that the Americans did not know that they were being ridiculed at.

Speaking of news, there is never a shortage of weird news in the world, is there? Take for example, in the June of 2004, Norway�s government did not allow Skjargard School�s official registration papers to be filed. For those of you who don�t know, Skjargard is a Christian fundamentalist school that receives aid from the government. Now, the reason why the papers were not allowed to be filed was because the organization�s chart showed Jesus Christ as its CEO. Turns out it is not a good idea to list Jesus as your CEO.

Having Jesus as your CEO means, in case of any wrongdoings by the organization, the authorities would have to question Jesus Christ! I guess the school�s members were being smart by putting Jesus� name because they knew NOBODY could dare question the Son of God. On the other hand, they were also being dumb. If someone actually did want to question the Son of God�thus damning himself or herself to hell for eternity�Jesus is already dead! What�s the questioner supposed to do? Wait for Jesus� third-coming?

While we are on the topic of church and God, you may know by now that the Pope angered the Muslims recently when he quoted something that someone wrote 500 years ago to suggest that the Muslim prophet Muhammad advocated violence and killings. When the Muslims asked the Pope to apologize, the Pope said he was sorry that his comments were taken as offensive. He added that by saying what he said, he was actually trying to start a dialogue between the two faiths.

If degrading and demeaning the Muslim prophet is how the Pope thinks we should start dialogues between Islam and Christianity, then the Pope need not worry. He should be proud that the Christians already got a head-start on the dialogue when centuries ago they accused Prophet Muhammad of being a pedophile. But, here�s my question to the Pope: Why the special treatment to Islam? Let�s also start a dialogue with Hinduism by calling Krishna a playboy, with Buddhism by calling Buddha a crack addict, and with Scientology by calling Hubbard a child molester.

Going back to some non-God news, my secret sources tell me that the CIA has uncovered a plot about the next attack on the U.S. According to the intelligence gathered by the CIA, the next attack on U.S. soil will be in New York�again. But this time it�s not the Al Qaeda, it�s the French. They want their Statue of Liberty back. CIA intelligence says that the French, apparently, seem to have had enough of being the butt-joke of every late-night talk shows in America.

But again, the CIA cannot really be trusted when it comes to their so-called intelligence. They have, lately, been getting too many bad ones if you ask me. The CIA has lost so much credibility that, now days for me, the CIA is to intelligence what Fox is to fair and balanced news. Anyone remember �weapons of mass destruction� and �yellow cake�?

Of course, I could care less about the weapons of mass destruction, but I surely wanted to taste a piece of that cake which, as we all know by now, never existed in the first place. Now I will have to die wondering what the much hyped and much advertised (mostly in the fair and balanced Fox News) yellow cake actually tastes like.

   [ posted by mickthesick @ 12:18 AM ] | Viewed: 1884 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Sunday, April 30, 2006 | [fix unicode]
 

While dipping my wooden chopstick in a heavy load of sticky rice, I heard a mumbling voice in front of me. It was a lady, quite a beauty of her age. She smiled at me and with a gesticulation asked, "that must be yummy !" I didn't know what to say, as I had not even scooped a chopstick of that amazingly soy-sauced garnished general Tso's chicken with rice from Noodle-Doodle from the corner of my office.

With a hesitating gaze, I threw a strange smile at her. She seemed a nice lady- but I couldn't tell from her mere appearance and friendly gesture. However, sometimes, you can just feel it. My sister recognize a person within a couple of minutes: I am not that gifted as her. My eyes lie to many occasions, to my surprise. She, in fact, let me sit in front of her table, as I humbly asked her a permission prior.

She seemed to be a woman of around sixty to sixty five years of age- oval faced, very elegantly cut hair, gray haired, bluish-green eyed, nice lips, very toned skin of her age and medium built. Every time she tried to say something, she has this fascinating smile on her face that lit the conversation between her and I. Above all, he seemed to me a wealthy lady, well maintained and beautiful.

I did answer on her second attempt to find out how was the food, as I had munched and devoured at least three sccops of that Chinese on my platter. I said, " it is ok." We both then smiled. Then again, there was this silence between her and I for few minutes. I was glancing on some of the unfinished graphs on my table, here and there, while munching rice. I did not look at her, but I was sure she must be eager to talk to me. I am not comfortable with a stranger, and especially not in a cafeteria. While trying to reach my cranberry juice, I glared at her. I again saw her smiling face eagerly saying how insensitive of me avoiding such a graceful lady infront of me. With another smile, I drank the juice.

"Where are you from?" Now I knew her curiosities. Rather than curiosities, I felt the garrulousness, and I don't mind as long as it does not invade my personal matters. Trying not to be a rude, this time I joined her on conversation. "Please guess !" I replied to boost her curiosity. I will give you three chances. With a strange look, she gave one by one those her wild guesses. "Ok, I will give you the biggest hint, as you seems to be a nice and a beautiful lady. It lies between two giant nations- India and China." She was then in complete muddle. I did not mean to make her think so hard. She seemed lost…. With a few minutes of pause, I thought she will hit the jackpot. But it did not surprise me to know the geography skill of her.

Trying not to embarrass her, I broke the ice of that complete uncomfortable silence –"not many people here are familiar with this tiny Himalayan nation in the remote part of the world. As a size of a state of Arkansas, I can imagine how my country, Nepal, is engulfed between two asian giants." "That is the one…" she uttered triumphantly. I knew you were from asia, because of your peculiar accent, but not quite as a Hindi accent, but quite similar. Your features, though, betrayed me for quite a while.

"I like Indians and India (quite a fascinating remark!). I have been to China several times. Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur (she thought it is a name of a country), Singapore, Japan….. She sure must be a rich lady to travel during her anniversaries, birthday, vacation to those exotic places. To my surprise, she went to her 50 th wedding anniversary to India, just to visit Taj Mahal. I then told her, "you must be so lucky to visit such a romantic place as Taj Mahal with your husband." She give me a funny look. Her husband was busy on filming his documentary in New Delhi, during that time, so she went alone there. How irony!!! Then I diverted the topic to food. "Do you like spicy food?" "Are you kidding me, I love those mouth watering curries," her glittering eyes were sure not lying.

Then all of a sudden, she diverted me to something unusual topic. I like the cool and calmness of Asians, and especially Indians (just to impress me???). They seems so poised, calm and so meditated all the time. She kept on praising more… Perhaps, it has to do with culture. Also, look at you, you seems so gentle, so quiet, so poised, so humble, soft spoken and etc. I couldn't stop thinking, you don't know me lady. "Sometimes eyes lie," I just told myself in silence. With an appreciation, I thank her. She told me quite a story of her trip to those exotic places she had been. I just listened to her as an obedient student listening to his pupil. Her eyes were glittering while describing her trips and experiences with Stonehedge, Taj Mahal, Great Wall of China, Pyramids, Plains of Mongolia, Wooden Boat on the River of Bangkok, Scottish Highlands, Pubs of Dublin, Safari in Africa, Machupichu and Exotic Fiji islands.

I was so lost on her description that I did not realize when did my lunch box was empty without so much struggle with those chopsticks.

She hated the city all her life, though she had no escape of it. That's the reason she told me that she had been living in suburbs for more than fifty years. She is now 78 years of age and next week, her husband and she are moving to Florida, Jacksonville, for good. "I don't understand, why people have to rush so much in city. Rush to go to office, rush to go to home- rush for what?" – she became emotional. I can understand her feeling, as I have been feeling the same for the past four years onwards. She then lighten the situation of this met-life style. Once she was commuting from uptown to downtown, and that day, instead of taking local, she took an express train. A very young gentleman then jubiliantly tell her, I am so lucky today, I saved this and this much of time because of getting my express line right on time, and I saved so and so much time today. Then with her winning smile, she told that gentleman, "what you gonna do with your such a saving." I saw a mixed emotion on her those experienced eyes, I don't know how to respond, so I was mute for a while till I was awakened by her soft-spoken voice. What is your name? We exchanged our names- she said I have a lovely name- without knowing what does that mean.

After seeing hour and minute hands on my watch, I said to her it was nice meeting with you Marie Ann. With her gentle voice, she replied, "same here and thanks for being so nice to me. You were a good listener, and not many people do these days, and especially not the young ones." We then parted, and on the way to my cubicle, I just visualized her winning smile on some corner of my mind hoping to meet another Marie Ann next day on my lunch table…….. Hopefully!!!



Aagantuk

April 21, 2006


   [ posted by Aagantuk @ 01:13 PM ] | Viewed: 1998 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Monday, January 02, 2006 | [fix unicode]
 

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   [ posted by Basu Shrestha @ 11:41 AM ] | Viewed: 1843 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Thursday, March 31, 2005 | [fix unicode]
 

Dating Comrade Natasha

a humour piece

oohi ashu

I remember the evening I first saw her at Butwal Lodge in Kalanki. I was there to meet a friend. But his bus had not yet arrived from Jajarkot. I decided to wait. In that dimly-lit lobby where shadowy figures flitted about, she was sitting in a corner - all alone and looking like a cross between Martina Navratilova and Shivani Singh Tharu. I flashed my Everest toothpaste smile. She scowled back. I asked whether she had a cigarette. Assuming a quick kung-fu pose, she showed me a stick of explosives. When she later shook my hand to say goodnight, it hurt for hours. Little did I know that inflicting pain was her damningly seductive way of breaking ice: "You are cool, and I am hot. Dinner tomorrow?"

We met for dal-bhat the following evening at Madan Bhojanalaya- a hideaway that was miles away from any police station. She showed up, dressed-to-kill: khaki fatigues, combat boots and a rifle slung from her left shoulder. Before sitting down, she frisked me from head to toe, pausing briefly to massage my pant-pockets for any concealed weapon.

In no time though, with the glow from Tiger Lalteen bouncing off her face, we were whispering sweet nothings. She was Comrade Natasha, a rising star at Destruction & Mayhem Bureau. She said she had instructions to finish "certain work" at Sanchaya Kosh buildings. I patted her cheeks, teasing that a bombshell like her should not work too hard.

Over time I learnt that having an underground girlfriend meant that you could never call her. You sat by the phone, and waited for it to ring. When I didn�t hear from her for days, I worried that the worst had happened. But when we did meet, we never visited Himalayan Java to snuggle on the couch. Nor did we go to Nanglo�s Rooftop for chicken sizzlers. Too risky, she chided. Instead, we met for pani-puri at back-alley eateries, far from army check-posts, where rats fought with roaches for leftovers on the floor.

Often, exhausted by the demands of her revolutionary war, she would visit me, only to leave at dusk with a pressure-cooker. Once I asked why she ran off with my kitchen utensils. She gave me that come-hither look, and soon had me tied up in a perform-or-perish Khajurao position, which was enjoyable. To replenish supply, I continued buying pressure-cookers from a sahu down the road. After seeing on Nepal TV what became of the cookers he had sold earlier, he grew afraid to charge me money. Even the neighborhood dadas, who used to beat me up before, bowed low with respect once they saw who I was with. Having a rebel babe by my side meant access to power, influence, fun and wads of cash looted from banks.

But good times don't last. And neither do good people. Eventually, politics destroyed our relationship. She asked me to prove my love by going underground. I told her I couldn�t sink that low. Besides, I lived in a basement already. She wanted help with blowing up telecom towers. When she saw that all that I could blow up were balloons, her disappointment knew no bounds.

She ordered that I criticise myself for disobedience. I smiled, and moved closer to nibble her ear-lobes. But she shoved me aside. Putting the gun to my forehead, she shouted that she had stripped me of all romantic rights, and demoted me to an "ordinary lover" status. She also said that she might have to kill me to show how much she cared about me. I was touched that her love was so deadly. When we broke up for good, I landed at Bir Hospital with 12 broken bones.

These days, I look back upon the whole affair and console myself that it was better to have loved and undergone a hip-replacement surgery than to have never loved at all.

(Adapted from a stand-up comedy act, written and performed by the author on the 1st of April 2004 at Dhokai Ma Caf� in Patan, Kathmandu.)

   [ posted by Ashu @ 06:38 PM ] | Viewed: 2190 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Tuesday, February 08, 2005 | [fix unicode]
 

What follow are REMEMBERED extracts of a dinner conversation between a
socially insecure and intellectually naive 18-year-old
first-semester Nepali student and three of his American friends at a
dining-hall at some university somewhere in Massachusetts.)

by oohi ashu

Hi! Where are you from?
Nepal. That's a country between India and China, you know.


But you could pass as an Indian from India.
Well, I'm not as dark as the Indians, you see. I'm a Nepali. And Nepal
is an independent, peace-loving country. We have Mt. Everest there, you
know.


Mt. Everest? That's so cool, man! Are you a Sherpa?
Not really. The Sherpas are a different group altogether. They live up
in the mountains, you see, where it's very cold.


Mountains, wow!? Do you guys, like, go skiing a lot? It must be fun,
right?
Well, not really. You see, the Himalayas are really tall mountains.
They're difficult to ski on. We just kind of worship them from a
distance.


Worship them? Are you religious?
Yeah, I guess. I'm a Hindu.


You're a Hindu? That's so cool, man! So you guys have, like, the
caste-system, right?
Yeah. But I don't really believe in it. Besides, these days, that's only
practiced in rural areas.


So, like, what's your caste?
Um, Brahmins. You know, that's like what you have here in Boston, I
guess. It's kind of, like, being at the top of the caste-system . . .


Does your Brahmin caste, like, dominate over all others?
Well, it's not really that. I mean, it doesn't work out like that. There are good Brahmins and thereare bad Brahmins. Historically, a lot of domination used to happen in
the past. But that's kind of dying out now. These days, we all get along
fine in Nepal. Like I said, mine is a peace-loving country.


But you guys are also famous for wars, right? I mean, for my
social-studies project at Andover, I remember writing a paper on the
Gorkhas.

Oh, the Gorkhas!! Yeah, they are us. They're really brave and bold. You
know, they wield this special knife called khukuri that can hack a
person to pieces. Because of them, my country Nepal is known throughout
the world as the land of brave soldiers.


Are you a Gorkha yourself?
Well, not really. I'm only a Gorkhali, which is just another name for a
Nepali. But I can wield my khukuri knife, like, you know, kick-ass style!


Hey, now I remember. My sister's college-classmate's boyfriend's stepfather was on
the Peace Corps in Nepal. I think he found Nepal an awesome place. He
had, like, some amazing slides of a village where he spent two
years digging a canal . . .
Yeah, my country is really beautiful. It is an awesome place. And the
people there -- though they may be poor -- are always friendly, happy ,
helpful and smiling, you know. You guys should visit it someday. You can
even go trekking from Kathmandu.


Katmandu? That's such a cool name for a place. How much snow do you get
there every year?
Snow in Kathmandu? Never. Much of the snow falls on the high mountains
-- the ones that are much taller than the green ones you have up in New
Hampshire.


The air you breathe in Kathmandu must be very crisp, right? And the
water, very fresh?
Yeah, something like that. It's also very spiritual. Kathmandu's also
known as the City of Temples, you see.


How's the economy in your country?
Well, Nepal's a poor, underdeveloped country. Still, we have our pride
intact. While India next door existed as a colony, Nepal has always held
its head high as a brave, independent nation. But we need development
there. Fast. In fact, there's much we have to learn from the First
World. And, I guess, that's partly why I decided to come here, you know,
to learn from and to share ideas with you guys so that I can go back and
help develop my motherland someday.


Wow! That's so neat. I guess this is what the admissions office means when it keeps on sending out brochures saying thatdiversity is the hallmark of this place. Imagine having dinner withsomebody from Nepal! I'm now going to call my Mom and tell her that I
just met a really nice Brahmin from Kathmandu. I bet she'll get a good
kick out of it.
Yeah, do that. I have to go to the Science Center, and finish that Expos
paper on Orwell that's due tomorrow.

[You were reading remembered extracts of a dining-hall conversation
between a socially insecure and intellectually naive, 18-year-old,
first-semester Nepali student and three of his American friends.]

Originally published in The Kathmandu Post

   [ posted by Ashu @ 12:11 PM ] | Viewed: 2266 times [ Feedback] (1 Comment)


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Blog Type:: Humor
Monday, December 13, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

One A.M in the morning, still making a couple of effort, by indulging myself on my text book (my roommate’s golden rule) and some of my favorite New Age CD’s, to pursue that amazing dreams which is eagerly waiting even by my neat futon bed ( Nomadic life style in Bidesh) . I cannot help my self; this is my second can of caffeine free soda which is now rushing its sugar on my blood. Moreover, I am tempted again, probably for the third time, to devour the salad and BBQ ribs in my refrigerator which are just twelve steps away from where am I right now.

Is this a real “Nocturnal Fever” or is this a real “Diurnal Fever”? It is too perplexing to me for couple of days!!! Nocturnal in the sense that I am waking up all night, virtually, as a “Hootie”, rotating its head in a circle of chaos. Diurnal in the sense that I worked entire day as a “Hal- Goru” in my dusty and musty research facility, except for fifteen minutes of break without any supervision of my so called, scientifically correct - PI (Principal Investigator). Whatever the fever it is, I hope I will not catch that cold fever from my colleague, who has been coughing like that old “Saandhay” (Kathmandu Bull) in Gaushala. I don’t know whether he is trying to sneeze or cough. It sure does sound like frogs and toads croaking during raining season – calling for mate.

By the way, these Genus Rana and Bufo (not to confuse with a Nepali caste system and buffalo “momo” respectively) remind me of those “Hibernation” and “Aestivation” cycle going around on my “Karma Bhumi”. Well, what you expect!!! Devoting your whole life in scientific endeavor, people will, of course, imitate some of its natural cycles like “Evolution” of Darwinism. People have learnt to Hibernate during winter and Aestivate during the summer seasons. Asian Hibernation overshadows the European Aestivation, which are analogous to the Western Luxury summer and Eastern Leisurely winter. May be these Hypothermia and Hyperthermia correlate to its geographical attributes. I do not understand these inert cycle of phases there completely: However, you can say they are semi amphibians or full vertebrates, sharing quite a salient features of both genre for their homeostasis. Cold-blooded animal, “AHA!!!” They can be….because not only they are not poikilothermic, they are like a real heartless, emotionless animals (homo sapiens rather), and, well, by the way, who can forget about the real amphibian nature of them- dualistic surviving phenomenon of land and water- as stout and stoic as that solid land and as flexible and as firmless as liquid. Encapsulating themselves within a cyst and pretending, “are you talking to me?”, when I am in motion: Pamparing me or bringing me all those leftover pizzas of that boring seminar, if they are looking for a big favor, when I am stationary. By their thick skin with the slimy layer of hypocrisy, they penetrate all their needs of oxygen and genorosity. Winter time dormancy in the name of “Hypothermia” and Summer time dormancy in the name of “Hyperthermia” are quite equivalent to the inactivation and insulation against extra work load to avoid the potentially toxic effects of the season. Aagantuk, Aagantuk, Aagantuk…..trying to see the bright side of the life rather than dark sides, now I am trying to enlighten as I have been subjecting through all those my frivolous TV pursuit featuring 21st century self help Pundit, Dr. Phil McGraw, with the grace of evergreen screen queen, Oprah. Wow what a doze of contemplation….!!! I really feel like going through a metamorphosis right now, feeling like having a pair of wing on my shoulders, and beginning to fly up in the sky. Oops, I can even hear that bell ringing in my Christmas tree. Am I getting wing now??? Tik Tok, Tik Tok, Prabhu, that was a sound of my wall clock. It’s a two o’clock in the early morning- feeling wingless, speechless and dreamless, leaping towards the …………..


Aagantuk December 10, 2004

   [ posted by Aagantuk @ 07:14 AM ] | Viewed: 2058 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Tuesday, November 16, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

(Background: This piece was first published in The Kathmandu Post in September, 1996, the time when, thanks to Sher Bahadur Deuba, there were 48 -- yes, 48 -- cabinet members in Nepal. At the time, the evening news broadcasts on the television showed little else besides countless ministerial speeches, footage of various inauguration ceremonies and other such stuff ad infinitum, ad nauseum. In November 2004, the author was taken aback to learn from a politically astute Sajha reader -- in all seriousness --that this alleged humor piece is -- oh my God! --ominiously political in terms of what it says and does not says about the Royal Palace. Consider yourself appropriately warned, and don't even dare chuckle without looking around first! You never know what goes on in other people's head)


I want my NTV

by oohi ashu


All right, time for sneak previews of shows that are to be beamed directly to your living room this autumn from the studios of the Nepal Television (NTV).

Marx, Marx, Baby: In this show, you'll see Marxism co-opting Bahunism, Leninism flirting with crony-capitalism, and some-are-more-equal rhetoric edging out all-are-equal propaganda. Sponsored by the Neo-bourgeoisie Wing of Nepal's united communist parties, MMB will: (a) serialize nuggets of wisdom from "The Little Red Book"; (b) feature ads from car-dealer comrades who have offered discounts to the UML MPs; and, (c) strive to stamp out any inter-communist dissent to promote a diversity of ideas. Tune in on Wednesdays at 7:00 pm.

The Hajmola Congressi Hour: Sponsored by Dabar India, and hosted by the Nepal Student Union "karyakartas", this show will favorably dissect unprocessed, undigested and constipated national policies and internal fights for which Congressi netas have the right skills and the temperament. The innards of past, present and future Congressi greats will also be admiringly profiled. B.P. ko sapana, however, will be shown late in the night (after everyone is asleep) so that viewers can dream it themselves. Mondays at 8:30 pm.

Recording Poorano Panchai-baja: Covertly sponsored by Salyan's Save the Nation Group, RPP is to be put on by the Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP). Parading a cast of politicians, bureaucrats, PhD-wallahs, literary critics and "Mandalays" -- most of whom had made their name and loot before 1990 -- this program will articulate such burning priorities as "Basic Needs", "Measuring up to 'Asiali maap-danda'", "New Education System Plan" and so on. Expect lots of tall promises and vague generalities, as former panchas continue to denounce their past to morph into swooning lovers of democracy. Tuesdays at 9:00 pm.

Vijay Kumar Mis-presents: Watch Mr. Vijay Kumar, winner of three National Self-promotion Awards, poorly imitate Ted Koppel and Larry King, as he interviews the movers and shakers of this Himalayan Kingdom. How does Kumar pull off the show? Easy. Though his well-respected anti-establishment days have been over since the fall of Panchayat, Kumar is chugging along just fine -- on publicity that does not demand him to do a thorough background research, ask orderly questions, and display
some finesse. Fridays at 9:00 pm.

Dharna -- A "samajik" serial: This features a gripping saga of a Gurung boy who launches a long dharna outside a Tharu girl's house until she marries him. Shot in Jumla, Ghandruk, Dang and Kanchanpur, this 10-part serial also shows off our Nepali "sanskriti" and the usual "himal-pahad-tarai" routine in all their touristy splendors, while unfailingly making a point that yes, romantic love is the boiling point of our pan-Nepali culture. Besides, Dharna comes well-oiled with these rating-boosting masala: Affected dialogues, melodramatic performances, forced comic actions, garish set- and costume-designs, inane song-and-dance prances, implausible plots and twists, and, most importantly, zero entertainment. Saturdays at 9:00 pm.

"Priya darshak-brind, throw away your remote. Sit back, relax and watch -- all these shows and more. Right here on NTV."

   [ posted by Ashu @ 06:57 AM ] | Viewed: 2354 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Monday, November 15, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

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Note: Our web site is currently inaccessible due to an indefinite internet strike.

   [ posted by Bergendra @ 12:06 PM ] | Viewed: 1549 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Wednesday, November 10, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

I get out of the house and jump into a taxi. I need to go to New Road
and then to Tripureshwore to keep an appointment.

Driving in the city here is like playing survivor – it barely affords
you the time look around. Riding on a taxi or the pillion of a bike
allows you the luxury to survey the surroundings as you pass them. As
the driver puts his survival skills to test, I enjoy the usual scenes
of the busy streets of Kathmandu – pedestrians, bicycles, motorbikes,
taxis and fancy imported cars, all jostling for the same limited
space. An interesting thought crosses my mind – when I am walking,
people in vehicles annoy me. But when I'm in a vehicle, the
pedestrians annoy me. I think I have double standards. At the moment,
the driver of a new shiny Hyundai in front of us is annoying me. He is
driving really slowly through a narrow but wide enough gap, probably
scared of scratching his new baby. A couple of years later he will be
whizzing through without a second thought. But I don't really blame
him, I used to do that with my new shoes.

Anyway, the taxi speeds past the refurbished and air-conditioned Jai
Nepal theater. I watched the third installment of the Lord of the
Rings there a couple of months ago, but it had Chinese subtitles and
had the feel of a good quality pirated VCD. A glitch towards the end
made the screen go black, prompting nearly all the people to get up
and head for the exit thinking the movie was over rather abruptly. I
spent the last few minutes of the movie rearing my legs for people
rushing back to their seats in my aisle.

As we turn into Durbar Marg, we get stuck in traffic. All the vehicles
in front of us are making U-turns. The driver says to me, "Looks like
the protests have begun. The road is blocked."

"So how do I get to New Road now?" I ask.

He suggests we go to Putalisadak and try our luck from there. I agree
and he turns left into Kamaladi. On the way, he recognizes a taxi
heading in our direction and slows down to inquire about the situation
at Putalisadak.

The other driver shakes his head and says, "Don't go there. It's a mess."

Now I'm a little frustrated. How do I get to New Road?

The driver makes another suggestion, "We could go to Thamel and drive
through the gallis to New Road."

Now why didn't I think of that when we were still at Durbar Marg? We
turn around and make our way towards Thamel. I've noticed that every
other shop here is either a money exchange center or a cyber cafe.
Competition is ripe, no doubt. We turn into the narrow street towards
the Ason area. Unfortunately, a lot of people apparently have had the
same brilliant idea. The street is clogged with an endless queue of
cars and motorbikes. I've had enough by now. I pay the driver and get
out. I make my way through the maze, at times having to squeeze
between cars that barely have an inch of space between them.

It feels like Kathmandu is divided into two worlds. The mood in the
bazaars is the same as usual, with shoppers going through their usual
routines, seemingly oblivious to the protests and clashes going on in
the main streets just minutes away. Forget the big supermarkets
cropping up everywhere in the city – this is where the real people of
Kathmandu come to shop. This is where you find a treasure you want at
any cost but still haggle for it until your throat goes dry.

I finally get to New Road. Police in riot gear are stationed near the
statue and the firehouse. I like the blue color of their uniforms, but
I see no point in the camouflage design. You can't blend in anywhere
with that distinctive color. As I take a few steps towards a shop, I
hear the shutters go down. I look at the other end of the street and
see a protest rally headed my way. Just my luck! I turn around and
walk towards Basantapur, watching the police position themselves
around the statue as I pass them again. I wait until the rally gets
closer and then duck into a restaurant to have some momos. It's the
closest I have been to a julus and I feel somewhat pleased by it. I
don't know why. I have been mightily inconvenienced today. I surprise
myself sometimes.

The protests may ultimately lead to something fruitful and will
perhaps be judged favorably by history years from now. But at the
moment, it is causing inconvenience to ordinary citizens as much as it
is drawing attention from the palace. Public transportation comes to a
grinding halt whenever the center of the city is blocked. People with
their own vehicles find ways to get to their destinations or at least
close to it, but the daily commuters get stuck in the middle of
nowhere. While the glittering stores at Durbar Marg remain open all
the time, the ordinary folks at Bagh Bazaar and Ratnapark have to
sacrifice their livelihood for the cause. Ironically, Durbar Marg is
closer to the palace than Ratnapark.

After sanity is restored at New Road, the shops reopen and I finish my
task. Now I have to get to Tripureshwore. I am already late, but I am
prepared with the most popular excuse at present – I got stuck because
of the protests. Valid too, no doubt. The situation outside the New
Road gate is still tense. After a quick soda at the soda pasal near
Ranjana Hall to replenish my energy, I walk through Khichapokhari,
Sundhara and down the beautiful walkway near Dasharath Stadium.
They've built a new gate at China bazaar on the opposite side.
Kathmandu has got its own little Chinatown. All it needs now is a
bunch of Chinese people, a couple of seafood restaurants and a few
stores with indecipherable names.

I finally make my appointment three hours late. But my excuse works
well. I look at my watch – its nearly six o' clock. I've walked a lot
and I'm tired. The protesters have probably gone home by now and the
roads have cleared up. I step outside to catch a taxi and go home. The
street seems unusually quiet. I don't see a single vehicle. I ask a
fellow pedestrian and find out that the traffic has been stopped for a
sawaari. Apparently, the sawaari also has had to dodge the protests
just like me. I have to walk again, and this time uphill. I take a
deep breath and urge my legs to move. Today has been a long day.

Note: This piece was written during the unending spate of protests
that rocked Kathmandu during the summer of 2004. Email:
bergendra@gmail.com

   [ posted by Bergendra @ 07:26 AM ] | Viewed: 1530 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Monday, November 01, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

My name is Dhruba. I hail from ABC Village Development Committee in Eastern Nepal. In high school and college, I was on the forefront of anti-Panchayat student union activities. After finishing my Master's from Tribhuvan University (TU) in Kirtipur, I joined Nepal's civil service to support my family and to get to know the Panchayati machinery better. It was then that, eighteen years ago, at the age of 32, I won a Fulbright scholarship to study in the United States of America.

In the beginning, I found it tough to adjust to the American way of life. I missed Nepal. I missed eating dal-bhaat-gundruk. I was tired of Americans' asking me "Are you having fun?" all the time, everywhere. I missed my student union activities from back home. I missed listening to Bacchu Kailash's song , and I missed reading the then underground Nepali newspapers. Loneliness drove me into my studies. I did reasonably well in my studies. One day, one of my professors asked me to stay on to finish my doctorate. I obliged happily.


Half a dozen years later, I completed my dissertation titled "A time-series analysis of maize production in Nepal from 1933 to 1983". By the time it was done, I was the world's number-one authority on Nepal's maize production capabilities. I was very proud of this fact until I realized that no American university showed interest in hiring me. Besides, my original Fulbright contract stipulated that I spend at least two years working in either Nepal or a third country. Since my future in Nepal looked uncertain, I went to Canada.


In Canada, life was both easy and hard. Easy, because, thanks to state-socialism, living expenses were minimal. Yet living there was hard because a few jobs that I did find were as visiting lecturers, with contracts never being renewed. I thought about going back to Nepal, but couldn't decide for sure. Then suddenly the Jan Andolan of 1990 took place, and the hated Panchayati system was overthrown. I was overjoyed.


Soon, I dusted off my democratic credentials to jockey for a juicy post in Nepal. I thought that, with the right moves and the right connections, I might be made a member of the Planning Commission. Or, I might even end up as an advisor to the Prime Minister. Or, who knows, maybe even the ambassador to the US and Canada.

With great expectations, I rushed home to Nepal, paid homage to Ganesh Man and Krishna Prasad, and shook hands with everyone from Girija to Man Mohan to Madan Bhandari and his wife. I even wrote for newspapers and appeared on NTV panel-discussions on the state of Nepal. But ultimately, I got nothing. Instead, the spoils of democracy went to my former TU friends. Someone got the UN ambassadorship. A close rival's father-in-law became the ambassador, and the Planning Commission membership went to punks with PhDs from places like Durgapur. I was mad as hell, and was heart-broken. Was it any way for the democratic leaders to reward this intellectual's tyag, tapasya, sangharsha and bali-daan?


Later years brought no relief. I shuttled back and forth among Canada, America and Nepal. I accompanied every single Nepali neta on his and his family members'taxpayer-financed medical check-up trips to the West and to Bangkok. Still, nothing important came my way. Life was passing me by, and my academic career in the West was stagnating due to inactivity. . Obviously, I couldn't advance much on the sole basis of where I had earned my degree from. Yet in Nepal, no matter how many times I flaunted my American degree, Canadian connections, cheerful bonhomie and polished sophistication, I was always treated more as a short-term tourist than as a freedom-loving intellectual patriot with a "can-do" attitude. I felt stuck with my nose always pressed to the glass . . . looking inside Nepal and missing out in all that fun that was democracy.


Recently, with the re-emergence of such Panchayati ghosts as Lokendra, Surya Bahadur, Prakas Lohani and others of their ilk, I've decided that I've had enough of Nepal and Nepali politics. I'm convinced that Nepal is doomed as long as it fails to recognize Canada- and America-based Nepali intellectuals like myself. And so, tired of chasing the rainbow in Kathmandu, I sold off my old house there and bits of ancestral land in the village to pay the mortgage in Nepaliville, USA.

Condemn me, if you will. And make fun of me. But so what? At least, I get to spend the rest of my life with other patriotic Nepalis abroad -- discussing how to set Nepal straight through our collective long-distance nostalgia . . . and bright ideas and brighter discussions.

[Originally published in The Kathmandu Post.]

   [ posted by Ashu @ 08:38 AM ] | Viewed: 2256 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Friday, October 29, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

I was hyperactive during the latter half of 2002 at
Sajha, actually so much so, only today I got an email
from a Nepali in Dubai gushing about an article I had
written then, a column piece called Where The Maoists
Lose Me. My activity at Sajha brought me some fame.
High school friends who had not called me before (or
since) were responding to my writings, often
critically, but then, hey, some bonding is better than
no bonding at all. I earned some notoriety on the
Madhesi question. The recently launched Kathmandu
magazine Nation (by some Sajha alum) has been bugging
me to write something for their publication, on what
else, but the Madhesi cause. There are a few people I
first met at Sajha, and then offline. Who says the
internet is populated by predators and hence beware!
I once almost bumped into the monarch himself: San. In
Boston. Instead I spent the evening with two Boston
Brahmins at Harvard Square, one a Chhetri, another a
Sherpa. And, yeah, Sitara called. Don't be getting
ideas. I just read some guy's poem (and what a poem)
about her photograph. She called to bug me to write an
article for Nation about the Madhesi issue. Her first
and last call to me. Oohi Ashu helped Al Gore carry a
Democratic town in New Hampshire, and Al Gore invented
the Internet as a return favor for Ashu. I mean, where
do you have to go online so as to not bump into this
guy? Paschim moved to Vietnam, and has not been heard
from since. He dropped off Sajha (read: the face of
the earth).

So as I meant to say, half way through 2003, I had
mostly moved on. What happened? Did I run out of
steam? I mean, the Madhesis are a severely aggrieved
community, but there is only so much you can say even
about The Cause.

That is when King G sacked King Ding Dong Deuba, plus
minus six months. And there was more steam. Suddenly
every Sajhaite was a pundit, pundit being a casteist
term. What if you were born into a Dalit family but
are more informed than IF, and almost as opinionated
as Ashu? Are you still a pundit? There were at least a
dozen characters at Sajha who were going to undo the
"coup" tapping away at their keyboards, and half as
many who were going to bring King M back from the
grave. Neither happened, instead Deuba happened again.
Must be a treat. Koirala and Nepal agitate, and guess
who reaps the benefits: Ding Dong Deuba II.

It is an undeclared for this site of all sites, the
Mother Of All Websites, as Saddam might have called it
- where is Saddam when you need him - that neither
Prachanda aka Kada, nor Babu Rama Bhatta Rai (so as to
make the name inclusive for various ethnic groups in
the country) have ever participated here. Do they
fear getting tracked down? Like Osama stopped using
his satellite phone?

What really got me were all those "humor" threads
where Ashu said good things about me, and I said good
things about Sitara, and Sitara said good things about
Makura, and, dang, Paschim and Ashu got at each
other's throats. There is a saying in my homevillage:
if in a flood, you get caught in a whirlpool, bring
your limbs together like a baby in the womb, and stop
struggling, for if you struggle, that is a sure way to
not get out of the whirlpool. They would know, they
get major floods every year. These self-centric
threads I think first started at Gaijatra. Everyone
who had ever so much as coined one comment at Sajha in
the past month became a celebrity, and the status
never wore off. It became offensive if you started a
thread and did not get about five dozen responses
within a few days. You had to get onto the Sajha
"bestseller list" for threads. How many page hits? How
many comments?

And then there was the "baby boom." The hastis
retired, or slowed down. And there was a flood of new
entrants. Suddenly people would be like so and so who!
Known names started to feel lost in the Sajha flood of
new entries. Fame can be fleeting. Like Ganeshmanji
would say: "moot ko nyano."

Sometimes it can feel like people who don't get any
email, not even junk mail, gather at Sajha. Some
comments make no sense at all. When you attend
gatherings of Nepalis anywhere in the country, watch
out. That quiet person who did not utter a word but
simply stared at you might be active at Sajha,
gathering material at your expense!

I mean, Ashu can't find a girl to marry in offline
Kathmandu, so he makes fun of the few he does meet
here at Sajha. No wonder he does not connect. Would
you if you were a girl who met Ashu offline and then
got talked about online?

And all the time San is getting popular for no reason
other than that . well, I guess he does host the site,
doesn't he?

   [ posted by Paramendra Bhagat @ 06:49 AM ] | Viewed: 2455 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Thursday, October 28, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

To be or not to be �phat�, is the question of the fashion age, today. Translate the �ph� sound into �f� and the grease flies, fat burns and bodies get starved to gain attention. Was it Twiggy, the actress of the forties, who heralded in the �stick� look or was it the super (anorexic) models who cat-walked in the �clothes hanger� look. Well, what/whoever the culprit, being �pleasantly plump� has been booted out of the fashion industry.

Unfortunately, the debilitating malaise has captured much of the teenage universe: in fashion, health, thoughts and mentality: being fat is not phat! Here, �phat� is the multifaceted slang for �hot�, �cool�, �great looking�, �sexy�, �attractive�, and the only way to be! Those afflicted by the �fat body, low self-esteem� malady, go onto developing more serious health-related issues such as anorexia, depression, bulimia, osteoporosis ( much later in life), tooth decay and an overall poor health.

To make matters worse, it�s a parent�s nightmare to notice that even the pre-teenagers are getting sucked into this �thin is phat� mentality. Nothing annoys me more than seeing little girls dressed up in little-adult-clothes complete with the cut offs, off-shoulder- noodle- straps, midriff-showing Ts and micro-short shorts. Put on a midriff T on an eight year old and you will surely see a baby belly protruding. Is it any surprise that the poor baby fat gets unwanted attention, consequently, putting a �normally� developing pre-teen into the fat category. Can anyone imagine the painful results of such a labeling? The slow but sure erosion of a young, budding self-esteem can foretell only the most ominous of vicious eating-disorders that few can overcome.

If wishes were horses, I�d wish that every name brand, MTV star, clothing line and fashion merchant would belt out a �Fitness is Phat� number or something to that effect-- subconsciously promoting a healthy lifestyle. Perhaps, the fashion mimics would mimic their way out of eating disorders and �fat phobias�! Now, wouldn�t that be just phat?!


Note: Originally published in Kantipur Post, under the name of Karuna Chettri

   [ posted by Sitara @ 01:20 PM ] | Viewed: 2423 times [ Feedback]


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Blog Type:: Humor
Wednesday, October 27, 2004 | [fix unicode]
 

   [ posted by Jira @ 09:26 AM ] | Viewed: 2499 times [ Feedback]


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