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मेरो बारेमा

आजभन्दा १३ वर्ष अगाडि काठमान्डौं आउँदा मलाई के गर्ने भन्ने कुरा थाह थिएन । बाँच्नु पर्ने बाध्यता थियो । अत: के काम गर्ने भन्ने छनौट गर्ने विकल्प थिएन मसँग ।

मैले पनि अधिकाशं मान्छेहरुले गर्ने गरेको शिक्षण गर्ने थाले । विभिन्न इन्टिच्युटहरुमा अंग्रेजी पढाएँ । तर प्रतिस्पर्धा यति ठूलो थियो कि शिक्षणका अलावा अर्को पेसा नगरी बाच्नै मिश्किल थियो- कहिले कहिले बिहान र बेलुका पढाएर दिउसो मार्केटिङ् गरें र कहिले कहिले प्रकाशन नभएको पत्रिकामा सम्पादक भएर काम गरे ।

निश्चितता थिएन र त्यसैले स्थिरता थिएन । स्थिरता मैले चाहाना गरेरको विषय पनि थिएन । म एउटा ‘चोर विरालो’ बन्न चाहन्थे, जसले विविध कुराहरु चाखेको होस्, जोसँग अभुभवको भण्डार होस् अनि भावनाको प्रचुरता । मैले विविधता मन पराए- आई मिन डाइभरसिटी इन एक्टिभिटी ।

सन २००७ तिर दुईवटा घटनाहरु घटे- एउटा घटना त पहिलादेखि नै घटिरहेको हुँदो हो, मलाई नै थाह नदिएर । म किताब पढ्न मन पराउँथे । आफू सामाजिक रुपले अन्तर्मुखी हुनुले मेरो पुस्तकप्रतिको झुकाव बढाइदिएको थियो । म जे हातमा आउँथ्यो त्यो पढ्थे- नेपाली वा हिन्दी वा अंग्रेजी भाषामा लेखिएका पुस्तक अथवा कथा, उपन्यास, निबन्ध, रोमान्स, समकालिन या फिर अश्लील साहित्य । अनि २००७ तिर म आफू पनि लेखक बन्न चाहन्छु भन्ने कुराको बोध भयो । तर यो अचानक घटेको घटना थिएन । वास्तवमा यो क्रमैसँग घटेको मनोमोहक घटना थियो ।

अर्को घटना के हो भने- अनिश्चितता र अस्थिरताको बिचमा रल्लिएर सबैभन्दा महान ड्याब्लर (चोर बिरालो) भएको बेला एक जना प्रकाशकसँग भेट भयो । उनी लेखक वा प्रकाशकको अनुमति नलिइकनै, कपिराइटलाई ख्याल नगरिकन अंग्रेजी पुस्तकलाई नेपालीकृत गर्थे र छपाउँथे । (ऊनी अझै पनि त्यही काम गर्छन् । नेपालको कपिराइट कानून। दैब जानून्) । भेट हुने बित्तिकै उनले मालाई दुईवटा पुस्तक अनुवादको कन्ट्राक्ट दिए- मेडम क्युरी र ग्यालिलीको जीवनी । दुईवटा पुस्तका अनुवाद गरेको रु. १०००० र १० प्रति नि:शुल्क ।

म कति खुसी भएको थिए त्यति बेला ! एक त यो मेरो लागि नयाँ काम थियो । त्यस माथि किताब पढ्न पाइने अनि किताबमा आफ्नो नाम पनि आउँने ।

यो रोमाञ्चकता त्यति बेला टुट्यो जतिबेला मलाई अंग्रेजीबाट नेपालीमा अनुवाद सोचेजस्तो ‘तीब्र’ र ‘सजिलो’ हुन नसक्ने कुराको बोध भयो । जे होस् मैले उनको लागि चारवटा पुस्तकहरु अंग्रेजीबाट नेपालीमा अनुवाद गरें (लगभाग २ लाख शब्दहरु) । तर उनलेने अन्तिमका दुईवटा पुस्तकमा मेरो नाम उल्लेख गरेनन् । कारण थियो, हाम्रो सम्बन्ध बिग्रिसकेको थियो ।

त्यस पछि मलाई एउटा चर्चित दैनिक पत्रिकाका पत्रकारले काममा लगाए । उनी बाठा थिए तर शोषक थिएनन् । उनका लागि मैले थोरै काम गरे पनि मैले ठूलो अनुभव हासिला गरें ।

म पूर्ण रुपले अनुवादक त्यति बेला भए जतिबेला मलाई रोबर्ट नाम गरेका जर्मन नागरिकले मेरो अनलाइन प्रोफाइल हेरेर मलाई एउटा कामको प्रश्ताव गरे । त्यो काम ठूलो थियो र उनी ज्युरिच विश्वविद्यालयको तर्फबाट मलाई सम्पर्क गर्दैथिए । मैले उनीहरुको लागि दश लाख भन्दा बढी शब्दहरु रुपान्तरण गरे लगभग दुइ वर्षमा नेपाली अनुवादकको रुपमा । यी दुई वर्षमा मैले थुप्रै अरु अनुवाद कम्पनी र क्लाइन्टहरुसँग सम्बन्ध बढाएँ । अन्त्यमा मैले शिक्षण पेसा छोडेर पूर्णकालिन अनुवादकको रुपमा काम गर्ने थाले ।

मैले अहिले सम्म ३० लाख भन्दा बढी शब्दहरु अनुवाद गरेको छु, १००० घण्टा भन्दा बढी समयको दोभाषेको सेवा प्रदान गरेको छु । म अहिले दशवटा भन्दा बढी अनुवाद कम्पनीहरुको नियमित प्रदायक छु । र यो सूचि प्रतिदिन बढ्दो छ अनि म आफू पनि नयाँ ग्राहकहरुसँग सम्बन्ध बढाउन उत्साहित छ ।

यो लेख अंग्रेजीमा पढ्नुहोस् ।

बाँचेको जीवन

bigstock_competitive_battle_5620462

सबैजना गुमसुम बाँचिरहेका जस्ता-
एउटा एकत्व,
तनाव,
उफान
म एकतमास सोचिदिन्छु- देखिनु र देखाउनुको खेल
सपानाको रापले आफैलाई सेकिरँहू जस्तो
एउटा विकराल अन्धकार

नैतिक शिक्षा – लिन्डा पाष्टन

धेरै वर्ष पहिला नैतिक शिक्षाको कक्षामा

हाम्रो शिक्षकले प्रत्येक शरद ऋतुमा यो प्रश्न सोध्थे:

कुनै संग्राहलयमा आगो लाग्यो भने

केलाई बचाउँछौ, रेम्ब्रान्ड्टको पेन्टिङ्

वा कुनै बुढी महिला जोसँग धेरै

वर्षहरु बाँकी छैनन् जिउने ? कडा कुर्सीमा बसेका बेचैन हामी

पेन्टिङ् वा बुढ्यौलीको बारेमा ख्याल गर्दै नगरी

एक साल जीवनलाई छान्थ्यौं त अर्को साल कलालाई

अनि सधै उदासिन भएर । कहिले कहिले

ती महिला आफ्नो सामान्य भान्छालाई छोडेर

कुनै ठिहीलो, अर्ध कल्पित संग्राहलयमा रल्लिन पुगेकी

मेरो बज्यैको अनुहार उधारो लिन्थिन् ।

एक साल, चलाख भएर, मैले भने

ती आइमाईलाई नै निर्णय गर्न दिंदा के हुन्छ ?

लिण्डा, शिक्षक भन्थे, आफ्नो उत्तरदायित्वको बोझहरु

पन्छाउँछे ।

यो शरद, म एउटा वास्तविक संग्राहलयमा आफै उभिन्छु

वास्तविक रेम्ब्रान्ड्टको अगाडि, आफै बुढी महिला

वा झण्डै बुढी महिलाको रुपमा

 

फ्रेम भित्रका रंगहरु शरदभन्दा

अध्याँरा छन् ।

शिशिर भन्दा पनि अध्याँरा- पृथ्विका खैरा रंगहरु,

तर पृथ्विका सबैभन्दा चम्किला तत्वहरु

क्यानभास भित्रबाट चम्किन्छन् । म अहिले जान्दछु

महिला, पेन्टिङ् र यामहरु झण्डै एकै हुन्

अनि यिनीहरु केटाकेटीहरुले बचाउन नसक्ने खालका छन् ।

Translated into Nepali by Sandesh Ghimire

Read the English version of the poetry

The sun also rose

images

The pine shadows played on the ground

When he got on the knoll.

It was a wonderful view

In the vast jungle of pine trees

An open realm under the sun

 

And then

The guns rattled out of the blue

And he fell

On his own blood,

No splash, just a scarce falling

the shadows play even now on where they fall on

until the sun sets.

An American had said the sun also rose.

What else did not!

The friends: A story

One day, it suddenly occurred to me that I did not belong and the series of lies should already have discontinued. What lies? The secret I wish not to demystify. I was never content then- this was the seedy truth.

And discontent heart goaded me into teaching school kids. A job, so disrespectful that you vanish your identity here, and identity crisis becomes your identity. What else if you take to teaching after you have always been clapped-down everywhere?

Nobody was what I wanted to make of myself after I could never be a somebody, after I had been all through being told what to do and what not. Oh those jitters! How vehemently they disgusted me!

“Boy, it is time you got married,” said my uncle cum mentor, who was probably wary about my receding hair line. “When do you wish to get married?”

“I don’t have an immediate plan,” I revealed, slowly sipping the tea that he afforded in the lieu of the heebie-jeebies he had planned to dump on me.

“Alright,” he seemed to brood “tell me what miracles happen if you delay it? Man of your caliber should already have begun the journey.”

I wondered why he should get on my nerves, and be depersonalizing the most closet matter. I wonder if he meant potency by calibers which I did not certainly lack. He certainly did not know the miracles that had already happened when my ‘I’ll never leave you’ girl friend dumped me for a Canadian PR holder.

And teaching nullified me, annulled what little I had as visibility, and he, to my greatest jubilance, started refuting my existence; he butted out of this black sheep’s way.

The Fabulous School boasted of a strange faculty led by thick-mustached man with wicked eyes and zero sense of humor, Mr. Poudel, who began the assembly with broken English. “Let me to tell you should have to pay the due by the weekend. We cannot able to go further than that,” he said. The male teachers wallowed backbiting female counterparts and students, chattered tirelessly about who the girls were in love with, and even eavesdropped them. The lady teachers were even weirder. They hardly talked to male teachers, nor did they mingle heartily with each other as if each had a clandestine closet of their own, and they feared words would suddenly demystify everything.

I found myself even much lonelier, an outcast, being ostracized by my colleagues thanks to my inability to go for the backbiting spree. I went to school, buttonholed the Poudels (Mr. Poudel had an entourage there including his spouse, and his son and daughter), and taught English, not the things that was specified as the course of study, and when I was not teaching, I sat in the frosty in the sun of the Fall all day long, sifting the sense of still not belonging, with the Republica at hands, quasi-reading with my caprices drifting off and on- a more banal, fallow, and uncomfortable indulgence!

That should have been one of the warmer afternoons because I 11was not draped in the coat that was mandatory, and I was sitting on the floor of the other corner of the cemented ground after I had finished with 10 graders, wondering why I was so finicky, if I wanted to quit and telling myself that they had been paying fair for the good-for-nothing. Two girls of about ten approached, accosted me and asked what my name was and what I taught.

I scrutinized them, seemingly amused by their volubility. The girl who called herself Smirti was slightly dark and tall, with her bright and curious eyes, and the other, Shristi, with one of her teeth beautifully protruding and flat forehead was rather talkative. Once I had introduced, we prattled about hobbies, families and nothing.

Then suddenly the bell rang, and they rushed into their class, leaving me happily bowled-over.

Next afternoon, they good-afternooned me and stood by my side (students are not allowed to sit with teachers at Fabulous) while I was flipping through the pages of the newspaper. Shristi asked what I was reading and if there was any ‘zodiac fruit’. Yes, there was. I read their signs and restated in simpler terms. Shristi then said that she was talking to her sister about me.

“She says you are a funny man,” she said.

Suddenly I wanted to explore about her sister, who, it seemed, was of my age.

These talks soon became part of my schedule before very long. It was the only time when I had the sense of life. They seemed to like the stories I cooked, while I, as I now realize, was more inclined to aggrandize myself in the groggy thought that what I would tell them would be related to the sister, and who, by some chance, would nudge me. These thoughts tinged me more than anything else.

These girls were indispensible, with their camaraderie and joie de vivre so relative to each other’s presence that if one was absent to school for a day, the other would be zealless like the hen fed on salt.

“Why were you silent yesterday?” I asked Shristi one day, with Smirti beside.

She widened her eyes and smiled, pointing at her friend who was biting her nails. “She did not come yesterday.”

As the days elapsed, I thought I had probably started belonging. I enjoyed teaching, I slipped up on ‘to-be’s brazenness. They were still incomplete individually, staid and unfeeling. Everybody had started to take note of us. The teachers-to-be, and the ones-would-be ran tirades about us though they showered us with glitzy smiles in our face. Some were even heard to tag them the young lovers and me a beau. Oh the fabulous school!  On the other side, we no longer talked about a particular thing nor about the sister, who had lost the closet allure for me, and when we talked, we lacked time. First time in life, the sense of time’s velocity thumped on me; every break time I went short of hearing and telling.

I was very happy because of their presence in my life. their presence, which had not been very present! However, I felt it. It may be that some presences can gladden you to the nines. Or true friends can change the way we live, redefine our idiosyncrasies, brainstorm and brainwash us and restore completely new sense of life, and then everything becomes natty. But it is equally relative, mutual. An absence, on the other hand, can rift a bottomless pit within us. Suddenly we start not enjoying anything, and in a way abominating the things which had earlier got us engrossed.

The session ended. The fifteen days vacation was the Hades to pull through.

When the spring was falling, and failing gradually, when the sky advertised the advent of the warm summer, I went to school, with my head turned on, only to ferret out Shristi was never coming to school.

“She is never coming,” Smirti said, leaning herself lazily against the brick wall.

“Why?” I was equally afflicted, lolling about on the red Dolphin chair.

“Her father has got her admitted to a better school. She was crying when I saw her the other evening.” I stayed numb, unable to find the words. I looked at her. Her eyes were welled up. Then she said that she had told her friend not to worry because they were the best friends forever and would go to the same college when we had passed the SLC.

“I am proud of you,” I said, ruminating over the lost gem, the curious eyes and the lovingly vociferous company.

Suddenly the time was the biggest con, recalcitrant to budge. We tried to forget her, and bear the usual guise. I ruthlessly tried to gladden her with the jokes we had laughed together, the prose we have mused upon, and the poems we had written eulogizing our trinity. Shristi had written in her diary which they showed to me, “I dreamt of Smirti, I and sir seeing the stars together.”  But the jokes now sounded vapid, the prose terse and the poems prosaic. I always ended up remembering the died-hard buddy.

“You know she would double up at the joke of Sarura-Jwai,” Smirti said, her eyes glued to the brick wall.

I wanted her to forget Shristi, but I didn’t have heart to say that. We pulled through a couple of weeks that way.

The afternoon was rather scalding. I sat at the corner of the basketball court, which was an addition to the school’s flamboyance. The ten graders ogling the new-fangled game, waiting for their turns were planning to go swimming the following Saturday. “We’d better go to the Balaju pool. Many chicks come there,” a boy in glasses said, unmindful of my presence (my presence is as such), and immediately his friend shushed him and the entourage sided away to another corner while the chick ogler hid his red face behind his friends.

Now I was alone despite the raucous kids who scurried around. Now came Smirti, started sobbing initially and burst into bouts of cry. Nobody seemed to notice her cry as she was so minuscule that her friends enjoyed unseeing her.

“Why, cutie?” I said.

“Tek sir beat me up for not doing the homework.”

“Oh.” I did not have words to console her.

“What shall I do? I just cannot concentrate after she’s gone.”

She leaned her head down on me and cried. It was excruciating for me. There are people who don’t even look back what they have missed for their kind of achievement and there was this girl…I was proud of her and took her to the office.

I don’t want to study without her, she said, averted her eyes away from Tek sir who was reposing in front of her, without a taint of guilt in his eyes. Then she cried as if bridled by something ethereal.

“OK, OK. Let us to take you home. Your friend will joins in tomorrow. I fetch her,” the principal said twitching his mustache, with his wicked eyes fixed on her.

Then, they took her away. She did not come to school at all. I already knew she would never come. She was heard to have joined the better school. I was again lonely; I started not belonging even though I managed to be happy for them. And I hated Tek sir.

Twelve months from then, I was drinking tea in the canteen owned by the Parajulis, with a resignation letter in my front pocket, that is due to ‘very grave predicament’ and an appointment letter to the better school in my wallet. Tek sir was also drinking tea in front of me, griping the Parajulis about taste of grams and intermittently looking and smiling at me, unwary of the hatred I have saved all the months.

I walked out to the principal’s cabin, deciding to amnesty Tek now because I am going to meet my best friends tomorrow.

Learn English

साथीहरूको अनुरोधमा म यो ब्लग थाल्दैछु । यो मुलत: अंग्रेजी भाषा सिक्ने र सिकाउने कुरामा केन्द्रित हुनेछ । म क्रमबद्ध रूपमा अंग्रेजी भाषाका विभिन्न पक्षमा प्रकाश पार्नेछु । मलाई लाग्छ भाषा सिक्दा निम्न कुरामा ध्यान दिन सकियो भने र ति कुराहरूको पालना गर्न सकियो भने हामी सफलता हासिल गर्न सक्छौं ।

  1. Words (शब्दहरू) कुनै पनि भाषाको सबैभन्दा महत्वपूर्ण कुराहरू हुन् । शब्दहरूलाई विशेष रूपले चार भागमा बाँड्न सकिन्छ; नाम (Noun), क्रिया (verb), विशेषण (adjective), क्रियाविशेषण (Adverb). अत: हाम्रो प्राथमिक ध्यान शब्दहरू जान्नुमा केन्द्रित हुनु पर्छ । म दिनको कम्तीमा पाँच वटा शब्दहरू लेखेर, जानेर भाषाको अध्ययन गर्ने सुरु गर्ने सल्लाह दिन्छु । यसरी शब्दको छनौट गर्दा दुईवटा क्रिया, एक-एक वटा नाम, विशेषण, क्रियाविशेषणबाट शुरू गर्दा राम्रो हुन्छ । शब्दहरू खोज्न शब्दकोषको प्रयोग गर्नुहोस् ।
  2. मलाई लाग्दैन आफ्नो मातृभाषालाई हेला गरेर हामी अर्को भाषा सिक्न सक्छौं । मेरो बिचारमा हामीले आफूले मातृ भाषामा भन्न चाहेका कुरालाई अंग्रेजीमा व्यक्त गरेर अंग्रेजी सिक्न सक्छौं । उदाहरणको लागि, हामीलाई ‘बिना कारण गाली खानु परेको छ’ भन्नु छ- हामी भन्छौं- I have had to be scolded for no reason. (Subject+ have had to+ verb1….).  अब हामी ‘अचेल बिहान सबेरै उठ्नु परेको छ (I have had to get up early in the morning now a days)’  नेपालले चीनबाट आसा गर्नु परेको छ (Nepal has had to hope from China) भन्न सक्छौं ।

अर्को तिर, हामी यही संरचनामा बनेको अंग्रेजी वाक्यको नेपाली अर्थ के हो भन्ने कुरा पत्ता लगाउन पनि सक्षम हुन्छौं । She has had to pretend to smile. (उनले हाँसे जस्तो गर्नु परेको छ ।)

  1. हामीले अंग्रेजी सिकाइलाई कम्तीमा प्रतिदिन दुई घण्टे कटिबद्ध (dedicated) समय दिनु पर्छ । हामीले आफूले देखेका कुराहरूलाई अंग्रेजीमा भन्ने प्रयास गर्नु पर्छ । हामी चरो आकासमा उडिरहेको देख्छौं (The bird is flying up in the sky.) अथवा श्रीमतीले कचकच गरेकाले वाक्क हुन्छौं (I am fed up with my wife fussing about.)

भन्न खोजेको कुरा के हो भने हामी आफ्ना हरेक बिचारलाई अंग्रेजीकरण गर्न सक्छौं र गर्ने अभ्यास गर्नु पर्छ । यही अभ्यासले नै हामीलाई प्रखर अंग्रेजी लेखत तथा वक्ता बनाउँछ ।

हामीले सिकारुको रूपमा कुनै कुरालाई कसरी अंग्रेजीमा भन्न सक्छौं, सो कुरालाई अर्को तरिकाले भन्न सकिन्छ कि सकिदैन भन्ने कुरा प्रयासरत हुनु पर्छ ।

यी ब्लगहरू कसका लागि हुन् ?

  • अंग्रेजी सिक्न चाहने जो सुकैका लागि । तर पनि यसले विद्यार्थीहरू, IELTS, TOEFL जस्ता परीक्षाको तयारी गरिरहेका, अनुवाद अध्ययनमा उत्सुक सबै जनालाई सहयोग गर्नेछ ।
अहिले सम्मका सबै पाठको सूचीको लागि निम्न लिङ्कमा जानुहोस्

https://nepalilinguist.com/list-of-chapters/

मलाई सामाजिक सञ्जालमा फलो गर्नुहोस्:

ट्विटरमा:  https://twitter.com/ghimiresantu

फेसबुकमा:https://www.facebook.com/Learn-English-with-Me-1696896323903160/

बाँसुरी वादक .

जब मेरी हजुरआमाले आफ्नो छेउमा
मलाई सुताएर, जगाएका
मुर्कुटा, राँके भूत, दुले भूत र किचकन्नीहरू
म भित्र बिस्तारै सुस्ताउन थाल्थे
जब झ्याउँकिरीले रातको कलिलोपनालाई निल्थ्यो
कसैले राजवंशी बस्ती तिरबाट बाँसुरी बजाउथ्यो
धुन निकाल्थ्यो यस्तो जसले मलाई सिरिङ्ग पार्थ्यो ।

को थ्यो त्यो वादक ?
किन बजाउथ्यो ऊ बाँसुरी
मेरो सुस्ताउँदो चेतना चिथर्ने गरी ?

तर मेरा आफ्नै पिडाहरू थिए-
भोलि मैले गुच्चा त खेल्नै थियो ।
म आफ्नी घुर्न थालेकी हजुरआमाको
पोल्टाबाट थैली निकाल्थें
र भेटे जति ढ्याक खाटामुनि झार्थे
बाँसुरी बज्दा बज्दै निदाउँथे ।

भोलि पल्ट खेत जोत्न आएको हिङ्गलाल राजवंशीलाई सोध्थे-
तपाईं हो बाँसुरी बजाउने, दाइ ?
‘मुलाई बाँसुरी बजाउन आउँदैन, भोइ’ उसको उत्तर हुन्थ्यो ।

त्यति नै बेला हुँदो हो-
कान्छो कामी क्षयरोगले मरेको
जीवनमा चालीस वर्ष बिताएको घरदेखि टाढा
बेवारिस
अनि हामी पाँच जनाले उसलाई बोकेर लगेर
सिमलको फेदमा गाडेको
धनीलाई पो धर्म र संस्कार ?
गरिब त मर्दै नमेरको बेस !

खै किन हो किन किन
मैले चलाख भएर
ऊ पुरिएको भागमा एउटा कचिया ठड्याइदिएँ
खै किन हो किन
मलाई आफ्नो बाँसुरी वादकलाई आफूले भर्खरै पुरेको महसुस भयो
तर क्षोभ जो लागि रह्यो
त्यस पछि का निकै रातमा
ऊ किन आफूलाई नचिनाएरै मर्यो
अनि आफूलाई खियाएरै फुकिरह्यो ?

A Monologue

We had walked together for a while

I, being uninterested in him, took a bus to Kathmandu

to do a flight of dreams

and he had pardoned my callousness and followed me

to wherever I went, like a loyal dog.

I called his loyalty cowardice

When I found him dogging me,

I thought he was an incapable traveler, lost and lonely.

Yes, we have been companions for a long time.

 

He smiled curiously

when he saw me smoking a Sikhar

in front of Shankar Dev Campus in misty mornings

or when I threw a bill of ten to a bard who sang at the Ratna Park

or when I bought books in spite of impending hunger

But never spoke to me, except in dreams that I often had in that dreamy journey

He said, “Chap, we will have to go back someday because we are the one”

I forgot the dreams the following mornings,

always concluded that I was essential to him.

 

When he peeps at me from the debris of memories,

shows me the happiness I have left behind,

tells me to show him the happiness I never got,

lies down on the grassy lawn I never cared about in the past,

drinks from the spring I never noticed,

I feel shocked.

It looks as though-

he is charging me for my unsuccessful flight

or is competing with me.

He is very far from me, and yet I hear him like he is next door.

He says-

I know you can’t

But I urge that I am your soul,

Come make me your soul.”

 

आत्मालाप

सँगै हिँडिरहेका थियौँ हामी
ऊप्रति अनुदार भई 
म सपनाको उडान भर्न मोटर चढेर
काठमान्डौं छिर्दा उसले मलाई क्षमा दिएको थियो
जब ऊ मेरो पछि लागेर
मैले पालेको कुकुर जसरी
संसारको नरकमा पुग्थ्यो
म उसलाई काथर ठान्थें
बाटो पहिल्याउन नसक्ने लाछी मान्थें

हो, हामी लामो समयसम्म सँगै थियौं 
म वाफिलो जाडोमा
शंखरदेव अगाडिको क्याफेमा शिखर चुरोट उडाउँथें 
ऊ मुस्कुराइ रहन्थ्यो 
म रत्नपार्कको सारङ्गी दाइको कलामा 
दस रुपैया फ्याँक्थे 
ऊ मुस्कुराइ रहन्थ्यो 
म आफ्नो पेट काटेर किताब किन्थे 
ऊ मुस्कुराइ रहन्थ्यो
ऊ मसँग बोल्दैनथ्यो 
सपनामा बाहेक 
‘साथी, हामी गाउँ जानु पर्छ ।‘ ऊ भन्थ्यो 
‘किनकी तिमी र म एकै हौं ।‘
म भोलि पल्ट सपना बिर्सिदिन्थें 
मलाई लाग्थ्यो- 
म उसको आवश्यकता हुँ

हैरान छु अहिले
जब ऊ स्मृतिको आँखीझ्यालबाट चिहाउँछ मलाई
मैले छोडेका खुसीहरूको पसल थाप्छ 
मैले नपाएको खुसीहरू देखाउन भन्छ 
पहिला मैले वास्ता नगरेको सडकको छेउको दुबोमा पल्टन्छ 
मैले बेवास्ता गरेको मूलको पानी पिउँछ 
मानौं कि मलाई आफ्नो हटको मूल्य देखाउँदैछ 
मानौं कि ऊ मसँग स्पर्धामा छ
मसँग प्रत्यक्ष बोल्छ ऊ अचेल 
अनि भन्छ- 
“तिमी सक्दैनौं तर अझै भन्छु
म तिम्रो आत्मा हुँ 
आऊ मलाई शरीर बनाइदेऊ ।“

 
 
 

शब्द उत्सव

कहिले लाग्छ 
रोऊँ यी शब्दका ओजमा 
बिना कारण,
बिना पिडा वा सुखी
वर्षी दिऊँ आफ्नै आँखाको डिलबाट
शरीर भिजाऊँ आफ्नै 
डुबाऔं आफैलाई 
यिनको गहिराइमा 
आफ्नै मृत्युको षडयन्त्र गर्ने पटमुर्ख बनूँ 
तर अहँ, 
शब्द माथिको विश्वास गुम्न नदिऊँ 
म बोलू शब्द-जीवन
म लेखूँ जीवन-शब्द 
छेडूँ युद्ध शान्तिको विरुद्धमा 
यी चिर निन्द्रामा सुतेका मान्छेहरू,
ब्युँझने गरी कर्कश बनूँ
मतुवाला बनूँ शब्दरसमा लठ्ठिने
शब्दको ब्रम्हत्वको उत्सव मनाऊँ ।

@ Sandesh Ghimire