Writeia

Suddenly, I was awake, and the first thought that came to mind was of her. How would it feel to have that lost love by my side the moment I woke from sleep? It was a cheerful thought, though not real or possible in any sense. Then, like all addicts who want to give up their addiction, my mind began a tug-of-war between indulgence and ignorance. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts go at it for a while. Ignorance, I thought, would be best, but it's like that old saying: "Don't think about monkeys." Then all you can do is think about monkeys. That's how it went for a few minutes, me fighting my urges at the very first light of day. Yesterday, I would've given in to indulgence, but today I decided to let the thoughts come and go. I then went for a jog. I like to think that my stamina determines my overall well-being, and for that, I love pushing myself out of bed and going jogging as soon as possible. Obviously, there's no consistency in that either, but on d...

Yesterday , Friday, was like many other Fridays I've spent in the past: meeting with friends, hanging out. Meeting with friends isn't bad on its own; after all, we need our individual groups, our own community, and for that companionship, I am grateful to every one of my friends, who I can count on at all times. This isn't about them, however. It's about what I have been doing and feeling on my own. My lifestyle, as it seems to me now, has taken a stale turn. I hope to make changes but come full circle within the very week of trying to enforce those changes. The good thing, if any, that has come out of almost half a decade of debauchery is that I have been able to balance my academic life fairly well, occasional dropping out of colleges and failing a few classes included. Other than that, I am on the cusp of writing a thesis for my Masters in English Literature, procrastinating as usual. This loop of life has been going on for long enough, and I have decided it is time ...

First Version :   After many a days in a haze,  I come back to my old self,  ragged, beaten I find him torn,  but not dead, mind you !  The old rhythm of heart goes on still  a decade has passed by in a moment,  there to here, a journey of years,  away, hidden, tormented by silent tears. Can I forgive the past, at last ?  or maybe just forget ?  What a life does to man,  is nothing short of regret.  Latest Edited Version :  After many days lost in a haze, I come back to my old self. I find him—ragged, beaten, torn— but not dead. Mind you! The old rhythm of the heart goes on, and a decade has passed in a moment. From there to here—a journey of years, away, hidden, tormented, silent in tears. Can I forgive the past at last? Or maybe just forget? What life does to man— is it anything but regret?

  ( The picture is not of a golden retriever but a good boy nonetheless : My Oskar )   I’ve been trying to get my health back on track for a few months now . Daily abuse of junk food , smok ing and polluted Kathmandu airs have done wonders against the effort. To counter those abuses, I decided jogging would be best as a start. For a few days now, Prashant Dai and Agya Dd have been taking walks with me in the morning. Today, only D d came, and we headed towards Pasupatinath Temple , my usual destination . I jogged most of the way towards the temple and she walked . We both walked on the way back , talking about simple things in life . At Bhimsengola bus stop, just as we crossed the road onto our street, we came across a Golden retriever peering its head patiently above the front porch walls o f a newly built home.  P atiently looking upon the people that passed by without turning its head to follow along, the dog held its head on the porch walls and let pe...