The
honeymoon night
When I brought you as my pride
I had a feeling that you would come to me all alone
but you didnt come all by yourself
you came with a procession along with you
a long procession carrying placards
most of the placards with the slogans of death
and a few with the wishes of a long life
placards of much opposition
and of less support
Will the procession stay behind with me?
You should have come alone
why did you bring this procession along
the long procession of demand and pleas
at this time
in the privacy of the room
only you and me should have been present
having spread the flowers of romance
we should have drowned ourselves
into a torrential embrace
But propping against the walls of the room
this procession, which came along with you
is watching us without break
my darling
tell me to spend this night
outside in the verandah
tell then to fell asleep this night
quietly outside
at this time
forgetting all our realities
we should have been talking with our dreams
my darling
please tell then to go away from room
out of the room
and let us enjoy our honeymoon all along by ourselves
just you and me
and let there be a nobody else
please send away
that long processing of wants outside
come on my darling
let us, only two of us together.
enjoy our honeymoon in privacy
By Ashes Malla
She doesnt know her own name
The whole hill of grass
on her back
the sun going to set
and she is climbing up the hill
when you ask her name
she says she doesnt know
one who has lost her identity
away from herself
living a value less life
who would she be ?
Flapping her wings
From the coop before the light appears in the morning
the youngest damsel
who has barely crossed twelve
pervades the whole yard as broom
her father in search of a suitable bridegroom for her
has gone down the valley
and she is climbing the hill
playing with the wild thorns
who has forgotten to bloom
who would she be ?
In the school of kitchen fire,forest,well and cowshed
reading the letters of pots , water vessels
grass and firewood
jumping headlong in the lifes exams
who always flunked
forgetting herself
tried she is on journey with no rest
when you ask her name
she says she doesnt know it
who would she be ?
By Ashesh Malla
Death is not like death
Crushed under the sack filled with rice carried by himself
one shreeman met in death
this death after a thousand times died
so that it may not have to die again and again
that is
towards the end of life
he meet with his death
now no never to die again
Death is so easy
but so hard
or death is so relentless and grim
how to know
neither did his wife cry
nor his son lamented
in his death
shreemane alone died without crying
A barren field he has
but without being able to transfer it to his sons name
Shreemane died
Over the broken wall of Charkhal administrative office
Shreemane had put on his thumbprint
on a Nepalese document
now the field belongs to no name
now the field is field less
is this the death property of Shreemane
the son is hastily on his way
towards the field
putting over his shoulder
his fathers worn out pair of old spades
perhaps to him his fathers death
is not like death
he shouldnt even sit down for a while
waiting for his fathers death
today his turn to use the canal for irrigation
he might feel perhaps
death comes and goes
for a living life
let there be no death of the spades and the plough
he might feel perhaps
but there is no significance
or feeling or not feeling anything
nor of something being or not being
it must rain in the right season
it must be sunny in the right season
what is the concern for death?
Its just a process
comes and goes
the death of is grandfather
had come and stuck of his grandfather
now it has comes to stick to him
death
has dried together with their tears
to find put weather eater reached their field or not
the son is hastily rushing here to there
as usual the sun is on
The strong arms of those who are living should live to them
death is not going to touch
Shreemane died
experience the death that doesnt touch
an ordinary died
to turn tunic died?
everyday those who living are dying
perhaps therefore
the death doesnt like death
as the death was not like death
one Shreemane died.
By Ashesh Malla
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