Bhai

 

Bhai passed away two months ago. He had kidney and liver issues. I only found out yesterday. When I met his mother, Kanchi, she howled and put her head against my chest. 

Such short and hard lives street dogs have. No roof to call home. No one to call family. We all love them for a while and abandon them eventually. 

I hope Bhai is in peace now. Reunited with his sister, Mayalu. I hope he's hanging out with my Kanchu again.

May you children all be in peace.

Song of dying rivers

It was World Forests Day yesterday. 

 Today is World Water Day. 

Tomorrow is Earth Hour.

But every day, I see around me, dying rivers and falling trees. 

When we moved to Chapli, it was because there were trees here and rivers. Now, they're slowing disappearing-- the rivers are being covered by roads, the trees are being cut down. And I find myself muttering a curse at the men and women give orders for trees to be felled and rivers to be encroached on. 

I'll be okay

 I've been angry because I'm tired. I'm tired of the hundred and one things my body has had to endure.

Rosacea is the latest. It causes my skin to flare up. And it makes my eyes burn and they tear up. It's making it really hard for me to get anything done. And I'm wondering what might be a way to manage this condition, since I know there's no cure. 

Sometimes people get lucky and it doesn't get so bad. I'm going to sit here and imagine it's not going to get bad. I'm going to sit here and imagine it's going to subside and my face won't get red and stingy and my eyes won't burn and I'll be okay again. 

I'll be okay again. 

Bitter-sweet. Bitter-sweet

 

They say spring is beautiful. Not in Kathmandu. I find Kathmandu Spring dry, dreary. The wait for rain is never ending. 

And so the only thing that keeps me going in this season are the cherry blossoms that fling their arms open and welcome this city's crowd and pollution every year, when it's at the harshest. Even if there's no rain. No rain. 

And there was no snow on Shivapuri this winter. Or the last. The longing. I felt it. Looking up at the hills every time it rained but didn't know. Barely rained this winter anyway. 

It's been a strange, bitter-sweet season.

I feel like I'm changing. Becoming more stable inside myself. I find that I'm able to be calmer through storms. I also find that I want to respond to love, even though I'm so so afraid of what love will do to me. I'm afraid, because I've never really had love before. But this time, it feels different and so I am more patient. 

But this season also brings me pain-- my cousin came home after 21 years, wearing a wig. She says she's okay, but she slipped the word "radiation" in one of our conversations and I've been very scared since. I hurt so bad to think of the loneliness she's been through that drove her here. This girl, who wanted to be my big sister, even when she was only five and I was four. She's always been so brave and to think of it, makes me weep.

For now, I shall hold her hand and listen to her. Like we did as kids.

P.S. The image above are not peach blossoms. They're periwinkle.

Dog chase

 

One of the nicest things I saw last month was this dog who was sauntering though Nepal Literature Festival stalls in Pokhara. He would show up with his Papa and just walk around the place, sniffing, booping, sprinkling, sprinting and leave when his Pa was leaving, following him out just as he had followed him in. Dogs are all heart! Silliest people!

In the background, Suzana Thapa's exhibition on Gurkha Women at NLF

One more day

 Yesterday was that extra day in the leap year. We gained a day. 

Yesterday, during my walk to Hijjya, I met a little schoolgirl, who was carrying a bag half her own size. Heavy, Heavy. And so I offered to carry it for a while. And we were both happy. 

Happiness is so easy to find sometimes.