The Wrestling Paradigm

Wrestling is not just for the kids, or so I like to believe. At least not for the boys.

 
We in the upper senior boys houses are assumed to be usually docile, but terribly violent to when we get angry. That is simply not true for most of us. People are really violent in very very rare incidents, but they do like fights, the kiddies’ kind.

The teachers would probably be surprised to find out how many wrestlings go in upper senior houses. It is like we are preparing for the real world, but without the blood and gore and other real world implications. Sometimes even the harmless wrestlings can go wrong, but again, that happens most of the time. Most of the time, when someone is bored, he pushes someone else into the bed(no pun intended), and the other either retaliates or is too tired or busy to get involved. If there’s no retaliation, the fight ends quickly. If, on the other hand, there is retaliation, the fight goes until either one, or both, are too tired to continue fighting. There are almost no surrenders, even though unintentional wounds are frequent. Someone I know has a long scar on his cheeks from this, but he cooks up daring stories to explain it to people who don’t know.

The kinds of gays, and tricks and tips on identifying them

This is an ironic piece, intended to poke fun at those who tend to stereotype the minorities-- or the majorities. Take it seriously only at your risk.

I am not gay, but you might not be aware of that, because you do not have a well-functioning gaydar. To help those people with dysfunctional gaydar deficiency, I have prepared a short instruction, which will hopefully keep you away from the hands--and other body parts-- of gay people who want to 'get you'.

There are several types of gay people, and sociologists have classified them according to several basis, but here I shall use the Behavioral Weirdness Intensity(BWI)  to differentiate the different kinds of gay people there are, and also provide useful tips on staying away from them.

1) Nottie Hotties

Notiie Hotties are the kind of gays who think they are gay, but are not. This includes all the women who claim to be homosexuals, and maybe some men, but it'd be really gay for a man not to be gay but claim to be one, so lets leave that apart, no matter how popular films like I now Pronounce you chuck and Larry, and Dostana get. 

All the so-called lesbians are hottie notties, They claim to be homosexuals because they do not want to go out with some stuck-up guy who will tell them to pay instead. They are the toughest shells to break because most of the times, the so-called men behave so badly with them that they seriously start thinking 'I'd rather go out with one of the girls than other stuck-up weirdos who happen to share the same gender as this weirdo'. As a result, they pretend to go gay, to get harder to be gotten. However, that is just a facade, and will be easily overcome, with some presence of mind, lots of booze, a well-built six-pack abs, and money enough to buy a secret hideout manned by a dedicated butler. If one does not have all the mentioned qualities, there is only one way a man could get a Nottie Hottie: by claiming to be gay himself, though this might backfire, since the very fact of claiming to be gay effectively renders oneself gay.

2) Sidekick Gay

Sidekick Gays are usually men, who hang around with other hunkier, bigger(no joke) men so often, that they slowly begin forgetting that they were once un-gay, and there comes one day when they forget what women look like, but know a lot about male anatomy.  One of the prime examples of this kind is Robin, the gay partner of Batman who incidentally was not gay. Such sidekick gays usually hang around their superheroes, and will not openly admit to the nature of their sexual orientation. They are unapproachable by potential partners of the same sex, and when their superheroes retire, they marry individuals from the other sex, and pretend as if nothing  had happened. They will explain away all the inconsistencies by referring to a myth called 'dysfunction' and take medicines which cause them to dream of other hunky heroes so that they get excited. To go out with Sidekicks, you must either be the hero, or his very pretty sister. Sorry, sidekick.

3) Man-Gay

Man Gays form the majority of gay people who are males. They have squeaky voices, they wear outrageous vests and shorts and pants, and the glasses they wear would make the designers blush. They usually keep their hands at chest level, much like Kangaroos, and hit loosly but painfully with the loose fists. They are friendly with most males and females, though at times will try to rape people in public when no one is looking. Thanks to their appearances, they can be easily spotted and avoided, The problem is, of course, they are good friends with hot gals, so to get the girls, even some brave manly men have had to get raped consensually, so that they put in a good word with the girls. However, they are very good business people and always keep their words, except in cases when they dont, which is when there's a really hot gay guy around, and they dont want to look like idiots by appearing to be in good terms with women, 

4) Woman Gay

Gay people who are women are referred to as 'Lesbians' by popular culture. A Woman-Guy is the most common type of lesbian. She is funny, attractive, interesting, and someone who every guy would kill for, but she likes other hot, funny, and attractive women like herself. They are different from Hottie Notties because they have never been with a guy, because they never really needed to since every woman, gay or ungay fell for them. They usually run TV comedy programs, though at times will also serve the army, or work as a doctor. They are extremely determined, and their hunger for power is comparable to men's. However, they are also quite gullible and to get them you just have to become a hot charming, and attractive woman who claims she is a lesbian too. Unlike men, women who claim to be homosexual dont become homosexual automatically because they are so girly and stupid anyways, they have no idea what they are talking about. Or whatever. I just dont want to get into trouble with the feminists.

5) Gay next door

Gays next door are virtually unidentifiable till they identify themselves, and even then , it is difficult to accept that they are gays, given that they are so normal, ans so, well--like you. One classy example of a current gay next door is Oscar shown in the American version of The Office. He is nice, he doesn't speak too much and he fights with bitchy women, but surprisingly, he is also gay. Gays next door could be any one of your friends-- they could come running to you one day, and admit to you that they are gay, On rare occasions, they will also admit that they have had crush on you since grade five, and all those times they appeared to be removing thorns and grasses from your shorts and pants, they really weren't. Most of these guys are are nice and likable, and are working really hard to give the gay community a good name. They want to be seen as the poster-people for the gay community instead of the Man Guys.

6) Militant Gays

Like militant groups in every other community, these people believe that anyone who is not among them should be gotten rid of. They try to perform publicly very gay stunts so that the public attacks them , so they can reply fire, and leave only gays as the survivors, Luckily, none of their tactics have worked so far, and the most they have been able to do is get extreme rightists mad about them and their movement, which isn't very difficult because those right-wingers will get mad at absolutely anything, given enough time to let such feelings ferment.

When sharing's not really caring

Winter is almost over, and I am dreading the arrival of Monsoon and the swimming season. No, I am not afraid of the water(not anymore, anyways), but the things that are in there.

BNKS juniors(boys) have this terrible habit of sharing everything, including swimming trunks, underpants, sports shoes, socks, and towels. So its no surprise when a contagious disease strikes, all the hell breaks loose. For the last three years, swimming season has had to be canceled halfway through because the swimming pool was teeming with all the organisms for chickenpox, conjunctivitis and other eeky eeky diseases. The pool can be cleaned up and treated with chlorine if an infection is detected, but every other day, some other infected idiot comes and re-infects the pool, and its absolutely impossible to disinfect the pool every damn day. So the school closes the pool entirely.

Apart from contagious diseases, there are other things that sometimes get into the pool that I would not want to get near. When we were in grade six, the pool had to be cleaned and disinfected after someone lost control of the bowels in there. A brown mass was floating on water while were actually in the pool. Quite a few guys had thrown up, and it had become an I-dare-you thing for some time after that. And then I know some people who like to urinate in the pool rather than anywhere else. I am pessimistic, but this things have happened. I'm tellin' ya...

Scenary drawings and dogs

After going to the art class this morning I rediscovered that Nepali kids are not very creative. All around the class were the pictures of hills on the background, houses with triangle roofs, dark-blue rivers, really LARGE orange suns rising(or setting) between the hills, and squiggly black lines that probably represented birds(one bhai I asked said very specifically that it was a crow). Some were obviously drawn better than the rest, and some were really, really bad, but there was no diversity in the pictures.

So I did a quick google search and discovered that kids from all over the world draw similar pictures. That is shocking. Who tells the minds of those little twerps that a 'scenery' should have green hills in the background, very geometrical houses in the foreground, and so on? Can they not just draw what they see from outside their window, or a beach, or the line outside McDonalds in Kathmandu where thousands of people will line outside the store to eat fried chicken and burgers? Or can't they simply not just draw chicken?

I suspect the issue is ingrained in human mind at birth. I know, its a difficult concept to swallow: the idea that human beings have the concept of 'the perfect scenery' built into them at birth, but it might have made evolutionary sense. For example, the adventurous ones living near deserts would have been told their brains to avoid brown, and go look for green triangles with blue stuff hanging out, because it was the perfect place.

Okay! I don't buy the idea myself, but this has really freaked me out. This, and the stray dog that guys have been feeding recently. Its a girl-dog(ahem) and it has given birth to four litters in Av's bed already. By the looks of it, its pregnant again and looking for another cozy place to become a mother. I love and respect pregnant organisms, but I don't want a she-dog to use our cubicle as a maternity ward, thank you very much.

Up to the Gumba, and beyond

Some things should be revered. Not god, no. Hardworking people and people who give their lives in name of god or philosophy to meditation (no harming anyone) should be respected, even though might possibly be delusional occasionally.
 

That also includes the Nagi Gumba in the Shivapuri hills. It is a popular trekking spot for students of BNKS, especially senior boys. And the reason for it is not as religious as I would hope. We (I admit, I am guilty) go to the Gumba to check out the Aanis(nuns). It’s not like going to some place to check girls out, because it’s not looking for random hot Aanis that we went for--it’s a specific person.
 

We somehow discovered that she was 22 last year (that’s 23 now), but that has not deterred anyone from going up there, because it’s not like she has a boyfriend anyway. The Gumba probably has collected tens of thousands in donations simply because of her. And it’s not a secret anymore: last time when we were going to Shivapuri(we were not going to go there), the guard dais us if we were ‘going to the Gumba to check out the Anis’. I was surprised—shocked, actually—and embarrassed, because I had assumed that it was ‘our little secret’. Now my friends don’t tell their parents that they are going to the Gumba.
 

I realized only very recently that the guard dais were not even referring to that Aani in particular—it seems that a lot of young men go to the Gumbas to check out the young Anis. And that brings be back to where I started from: should they be revered, because they chose a life of isolation and no ahem, materialistic pleasures? I thought so, but now I am not sure. Respect: yes, reverence: haha, who am I kidding!

The Real Buddha hookup

The so-called ‘Buddha Boy’ has been drawing a lot of national and international media attention lately. He apparently comes from some hick-town that is far, far away from any place with decent internet connection, mediates a lot, does not eat or sleep for long periods of time, and has the ability to control the uncontrolled growth of facial hair that happens with people of his age and ethnicity. What is this person, and is he really a god? Such questions have baffled even the most ardent critics. Oh, this reminds  me of the time the real Buddha hooked up with a porn star.

You might have heard of a certain Siddarth Gautam, also known as Buddha. You might have also heard that he meditated under a tree for so many years and got ‘knowledge’ or whatever. If you look at the history more carefully, you will realize that he was disenchanted from meditation after the first four days of going hungry and staying under a tree and being dumped upon  upon by birds frequently. It was then that a lassie by the name of Sujata came to him. After that historical records go fuzzy, and become clear only after a certain interval has passed when Budhha has become a more ‘normal’ person, although an intelligent one. We can only guess what happened during the time periods, but here, religion comes to help. We are told that Sujata told him that to become a real knowledgeable person, he must live like a normal man, and then offered him Kheer, which you will recognize as rice pudding made from lots of milk.

You might guess where this is going. Sujata and Gautam hooked up, and did things that were so different and weird, weird, weird, that even the ancient Indian historians, who are not the ones to shy away from describing sexual acts, decided this would be too embarrassing to write and so covered it up with euphemisms. I will not try guessing what transpired between them—it must have pretty kinky—but after some period they broke up, and Buddha went on his way to become one of the most influential philosophers of all time. Meanwhile Sujata presumably used her talents and went on to become a successful professional in the adult entertainment industry. We encounter Sujata once more in Buddha’s biographies-- when Buddha is in his late fifties-- as an experienced just-retired professional who presumably reached the heights of her trade.

Anyways, the point here is Buddha could have had a son outside the wedlock, and it could be a topic for great conspiracy theories, novels, and movies based on the novels. Tom Hanks could play the role of a Buddhist historian who discovers Buddha’s lineage in the secret society of Rickshaw-pullers and Porters in Bihar who have no idea about their ancestry, and even if they did, so what, because that dude (Buddha)is not gonna come down to Earth to feed his progeny for free.

The state of our Nation

A lot of people are worried about the state of our nation, and so to find the solutions they ask me questions like ‘Do I look good in Purple?’, ‘How come there are so many tomatoes in my vomit’ and ‘Do you know how I can get into Harvard?’. These questions, and the people who ask such questions make me very worried about the future. If everyone started worrying so much about tomatoes in vomit, for example, wouldn’t all tomato farmers starve of hunger? And what if everyone started testing purple on themselves? What would happen to the producers of green fabric?

The problem lies not with those self-centered narcissist individuals who do not care for tomato farmers or producers of green fabric, but an entire generation in general. All those young people are so obsessed what they eat, and what they wear and where they go to study that there’s a very good chance that a majority of our population, which makes a living by selling low-quality inferior goods, will go out of work very soon.

It has been the Nepali tradition to make a living by cheating people. A lot of lives depend on it. For example, do you know that if everyone started wondering where there titaura came from, the titaura industry would be shut down within two weeks, causing direct unemployment of 12,000 people, and indirectly affecting millions? You see, those hard-working traditional titaura-makers make those delicious treats by crushing the fruit pulp under dirty feet so that all the foot juices reach the innermost parts of titaura(it’s the foot juices that give titauras their juicy flavor), and then put some spit onto every batch to give them some natural texture. These pretentious young people, who are demanding quality would put entire villages of hard-working villagers who spend their entire day getting their feet dirty for the titauras and drinking water even when they not thirsty for the sake of spit, out of work? And then the death of the entire titaura culture is yet another aspect. We have just too much to lose if we lose the titaura industry.

Titaura is just one local example out of many, many others. These days, people have started wondering what goes into their beer. Preposterous. You cannot think about beer and drink it too. All the peoples of the world, including the beer bozos Americans, beer maniacs Germans, and the sex-crazed French have drank their beer for millennia without thinking too much about what goes into making them, and now comes some smarty-pants Nepali who wants to know if it is true that beer is really distilled horse urine. I tell you what—it is! What’cha you gonna do, protest and put all those poor horses out of jobs so that they are killed for meat or actually ridden by someone? Do you want to see those poor little ponies being ridden on by some big-fat man with a whip, or just sitting around, having fun, and drinking a lot of water and peeing a lot? It’s up to you.

Decisions, decisions

I want to write, but I don’t know what, so here’s a sort of story.
 

There was never enough time for her.

Ever.

She had to do so many things, and most of them happened to happen at the same time. Appointment with the dentist or meeting the new writer. Going to Baglung to see the new spot that had been subject to so much fawning or taking care of her three nephews and four nieces who wanted to be with her. She had to make tough choices.

Once she started doing it, she became quite good at it. Making tough decisions on the moment became second nature to her. Her friends would be amused by how she would curse the leaders from all around the world who came on the news for their ‘indecision’. She would actually have made an excellent adviser or an intern to any important global leader.

Decisiveness can sometimes lead you to places you don’t want to go, even if you are very informed about the repercussions of your decisions. She had been lucky she had never ever felt the repercussions of her decisions. Her choices had mostly been about her, and things she had missed out on, she would always somehow makeup for later. That way, even if she missed spending time with her nieces and nephews who absolutely adored her, she would make up for it by taking somewhere nice for the weekends and filling them to the brim with whatever they wanted. It had taken two male shopkeepers, and three local women to keep her from buying beer for her 12-year-old niece who wanted to taste if all beer were just as bitter as the one her father usually had. She was not impulsive or stupid—she just was, and sometimes her decisiveness overrode her sensibility.

Terrorists are people too?

Uncivilised people give them bad names, but you should not. They are people too, and they have feelings, you know. The buzzwords of today’s civilized world are freedom and equality, and people should not be discriminated on the basis of their beliefs of their jobs. So quit cursing the terrorists, and give them the respect they deserve. They are no different from people of other professions like doctors, people in Tom & Jerry suits, and actresses in highly pornographic movies.

Ask yourself: would you treat a well-known pornographic actress and a well-known terrorist in the same way? Say, it’s a rainy night, you are in your vehicle in the middle-of-nowhere, and an actress comes to you in her tradition clothing, drenched to the flesh, and asks you for a lift. Now imagine a terrorist coming to you in the same situation in his traditional outfit (combat dress, rubber boots, grenade launcher on the shoulder, belt of magazines of AK-47, and an AK-47 modified for urban combat slung behind the back). Would you have the same feelings towards both of them? If you would, congratulations, you are ready for the new world of freedom and equality, if not—you have a lot of work ahead of you.

Why should the poor terrorist be treated so poorly just because in the course of events, he decided to make killing people, destroying infrastructure, and making lives of fellow humans terrible, a profession for the rest of his life? It is not any different from a nerd deciding to become a computer engineer, and going on to become the richest man on earth, or an ambitious young man promising to become the President, only to work later as a mid-level clerk with decent pay but no real future and prospect for promotion? They are the one and the same, and you must respect them all the same to become a ‘civilized’ person.

Some misguided people argue that a terrorist’s job is misanthropic—meaning, killing people is not the right thing to do and therefore the terrorist is not doing the ‘right’ thing. Well, who gives those people the right to decide between what is right and wrong? They are in reality, misguided self-righteous souls who think everyone should listen to their views and do whatever they say because they are the ‘smart ones’ or they can ‘make decisions’. Do not let those people fool you into thinking that they are correct and that all humans are not equals. They are actually fascist communist socialist Nazis who disagree with the idea of human equality and advocate for some classes of human beings to be placed higher than other, and some lower. Would you want to be on the side of those Nazis and communists who killed caused deaths several magnitudes greater than the actual fighting in World war II (Mao, Stalin, Hitler) or with the idea of human dignity and equality and the concept that all humans are equal?

Prepare for ACT

This is the day I have been dreading for months- I have ACT tomorrow.

I have been preparing for the last week or so and have used a lot of my internet time looking at ACT prep guides, sites and the sorts. But, I have not really done the heavy sort of preparation some people do. And whenever I do practice tests, I totally freak out: 'Ah!! I meant that answer' are so common with me.

Anyway. I have been told not to get too nervous. I have met only 2 people who have taken the test and one of them got 33 while the other got 34. Standards are pretty high for me, yeah but hey, I don't know relative marks. Ignorance is so, Bliss :-)

Despite being totally freaked out and confuse and nervous, I till have some advice to those who are taking ACT. I will try to make them a bit more related to Nepal but it will be good for everyone. Here it goes:

• READ the instructions on the Booklet before you actually take the test. Even better- know the instructions before you go to the test hall so that you save some time.
• PLAN the essay before you write it. Don't be an overconfident idiot: planning for five minutes will get you much better results and an organized essay
• DON'T skim the questions; Read each and every word and understand the question before looking at the answers.At the beginning of your essay, make sure readers will see that you understand the issue.
• GUESS answer before looking at the options and compare them, choose the best one.
• THINK before answering the questions. Sometimes, because of nervousness or overconfidence, the brain goes into Auto-Pilot mode and starts to do things by itself. Don't let that happen.
• LOOK at ALL the options before you answer a question, even if you are 90% sure of yourself. You will realize that people frequently make mistakes because they get hyped by the time pressure and answer the first option that looks like a good answer.
• PRAY. Even if you are an atheist, it does not matter if you pray. You could ask your girlfriend for help, or maybe your dead grandparents. It is the belief that counts; not the existence.
• FEEL the questions. For example, when doing Science, think of yourself as a scientist and try to look at the questions from a scientist's viewpoint. In writing, become a very good mature writer and analyze the question from her point and try to write.

BEST OF LUCK!!!
TO ME AND TO YOU;->

Equality for All: Ingestion and Excretion

Human civilization has perfected a lot of things like space travel, and the process to turn all the useless animals parts into yummy sausages, but it still lags behind in so many important fields where real research and innovation is required. One of the most important fields where much research has to be done to make lives better is finding a way to make it possible to go to the loo during classes without having to be embarrassed.

Going to the toilet is normal. It’s not unnatural. Ok, I may have lied a bit there, as you may well know that the ‘natural’ thing to do is to get your body rid of bodily wastes wherever you want to and whenever you want to, like the wild animals. However since human beings discovered that having human excreta near (or inside) the kitchen utensils was more trouble than it was worth, they made a timetable and place for people to defecate and urinate, so that people would not mistake someone else digestive wastes as food and ingest them, only to create several magnitudes more of wastes themselves later on. For a modern human being, going to the toilet is as natural as it can get.

So if it is so natural, why is everyone so ashamed of it? Why do students and employees go far as telling that they are suffering from Venereal disease, but not admit to the fact that they actually have diarrhoea? And why does anyone ‘civilised’ never ask the teacher to ‘go take a dump’ or ‘pee’, but use all sorts of interesting but confusing euphemisms for the same?

The truth is, going to the toilet and getting rid of the bodily wastes as become a taboo in our food—obsessed society. Ingesting things has come to be associated with pride, and excreting with shame. No one uses euphemisms to say that they are going to a restaurant, or a McDonalds. A ‘Umm, yeah, I have to go to the Foodroom[or some other euphemism for eating], but I will be back’ is never heard but ‘Hey I am feeling hungry, are you? Let’s go to eat and talk over lunch’ is very acceptable. People should start saying, “Hey, I feel I have to take a dump. Do you? Oh, okay, let’s go to the toilet, and discuss this from the neighbouring cubicles while we take the dump.”

Just like the restaurant reviews, there should be reviews for the Loos of those restaurants.
 ‘This Loo has a wonderful noise reduction system. According to our tests, even if you fart as loud as a Jet plane taking of, the neighbour in next stall is going to hear next to nothing.’
‘The gas-cancellation system installed here is state-of-the art, and you will not find a better system anywhere else. Even if your bodily gas releases consist of smells with combination of rotten cabbages, rotten fish, rotten egg, and all other vile rotten living beings, this will absorb all of them like magic’ 

Despite our political correctness, and our general understanding of equality and equity, we have been unable to give excretion the same respect we give to ingestion. Let’s make it a point to change this for the better as our mission for the next year.

Line, Line Go Away...

Our mum taught us English nursery rhymes before she taught us not to pee in pants. That's why I have a very emotional connection with them(the rhymes, that is). With pants all wet, the best we could do to make mother happy was singing the nursery rhymes in our cutest and most incomprehensible dialect.

Thing is, sometimes wishes do come true. And sometimes, wishes that you don't wish come true come true. The same happened with that stupid 'Line, Line go away; Never come back again' rhyme. At that time, I'd think, 'Goo OoZtoa Taa aa maagaaa,' which is nonsense, but had I been smarter I'd have thought, 'Look at me! I'm singing like a rock star. Hm.. maybe I should have my solo concert really soon.' How stupid and immature I was then! My point is: I should never have sung that prophetic song. My childhood predictions became a reality-- Nostradamus' old-hood ones did not.

As I sit in front of my Computer typing this, the screen suddenly goes blank. Power Cut. No, I won't have a UPS, if that is what you are thinking. That sort of protection is for sissies. Real heroes dare to go to the battlefield without any sort of protection or shield.(That would explain why we don't see too many real-life heroes these days but a lot of their children.) The 'line' is back after five minutes, as if paying a tribute to my courage and bravery. Someone said we Nepalis are brave because we are stupid. That's totally misguided. We are brave because the other party does things like taking our TV & Computer away or cutting our pipeline supply of Raksi so much that we can take it no more.

Nepal is very rich in water resources, as you have read. But you don't know that much of this 'resources' is kept in Banks. This is why our tiny economy can comfortably sustain virtually infinite banks and we are poor even though we are rich. Sand and Stones come from banks. Sometimes, gold does, but that is rare. When banks are broken, a lot of people become rich but even more become poor. I mentioned banks here because we don't have electricity due to broken Banks. As Krisna says: If you make mistake, you suffer; if the banker makes mistakes, you suffer again, only a lot more.

About those rhymes again, the nation will progress only when we have rhymes suitable to our context. Instead of 'black sheep', we should be teaching our kids 'Buffalo Boffin'. Forget those cute english-speaking sissy fairies. Tell them of 'Ballu the Bangur' or 'Bahadur the Super-Guard'. If you are a progressive person(and not a regressive one), you could read them the adventures of Red Panther and ow he finished off ten-thousand monsters in a single blow. Whatever you do, never, ever, make them sing classic nursery rhymes-- we don't want them coming true. If you are out of ideas, make some yourself. A suggestion:

We Shall become rich, We shall become rich...

We shall become rich, In ten years...

Oho deep in my red,red heart, I do believe

We shall become rich, In ten years

Before you forget, change the diapers regularly. We DON'T want wet babies singing such songs of glory.

I, God

Name's Karma, God Vishwo Karma. I am the God of machines and machinery and I want to straighten a few facts. Don't worry, though, I won't advocate vegetarianism or non-violence.

Let me start with this bali, offering thing. You will not be a sinner if you take a thousand and one lives for my sake. I'll just say. 'Okay, someone's going to have a really bad stomach this Dashain,' or, 'Whoa! Where'd you get the money to buy this fatso from? Beware of the dangers lurking ahead(CIAA),' and that's it. Don't listen to those diarrhea- prone ones who say animals should not be sacrificed for festivals. You can kill as many goats and buffaloes and chickens as you can afford for for me. Just make sure I don't get charged for inciting excessive violence and encouraging savagery. By the way, there are no favors in return for all those hyakulas and feelies. You drive recklessly, you get killed; don't bring me into this stuff. Also, I did not get to eat them anyway, so why on earth should I help you?

And then there is this interesting thing I saw in the cities during Nawami. All the boys were doing Pujas and the girls were being told that it is VishwoKarma Puja, only boys should do it. Really? I didn't know that! Either I am so stupid that I don't remember what I speak or, a lot of you are big-fat liars who will use my name for the smallest lies and then wake up at three in the morning to worship me very devoutly. I hope it is the second one; Gods cannot be idiots, after all. Can they?

Finally, I can hear a lot of noises being made on God not differentiating on economic grounds. It's a lie, don't believe it. Have you ever seen a beggar begging from a Limousine? Or a Gaine giving performance from his Private Jet? Fine, you may have seen one or two but my point is, if Donald Trump has a Limo where he can make business deals, why can't a beggar bet from a Limo too? If U2 can perform in a Jet, why can't the Gaine who thinks singing should be done at unconventional times, like in the middle of the night?Got my point? The rich have everything they want; the poor, not a thing. That's because Mrs. Laxmi and all other we Divine Beings look upon the financial statement of our worshipers before giving anything.

If you have any queries or suggestions to me or about my work, keep them to yourself. I have enough work without stupid humans pestering me with unwanted questions and suggestions. Be careful! I will lock you in the toilet if you anger me!

Remember this: I may or may not exist; no one can be sure. Therefore, there is a possibility I might come down as your Prime Minister.

Milkier than milk

There is one thing that is contaminating milk products throughout the world and scaring everyone: 'Cow Dung'. The problem is cows. They give milk, which is nice, but they also give dung, which is not-so-nice. For the uninitiated, 'cow dung' is a substance that is a major component of politicians' brains and also the same stuff that smells when someone-- er.. you know.

Cows give dung because they give milk. You see, dung is made up of green vegetables, which cows eat, and milk is made up of beer, which cows drink when no one's looking. Since they don't do too much driving, they always drink till they black out, and have a really bad hangover the next day. Green vegetables are good for hangover, they eat it, and we have to put up with all this s*** in our milk.

There has been a global panic regarding this milk thing. There is a very simple solution to it: don't drink milk or anything related to it. You may argue that it is going to be very difficult as pretty much everything, including car tires, is made up of milk. You are right. In that case, I have two solutions: first, stop eating car tires and second, don't get near to any semi-solid substance in milk. Know that white stuff that floats in the milk mug? That is pure dung. The purest, even though your mother may call it 'cream'. People normally want you to have it so they can have the milk part. Don't fall for it.

Some big, evil, multinational companies advertise that milk is good for your bones. Don't believe them. Ask your doctor. If she says the same thing,then. she is probably a paid agent of one of those rich companies; stop going to her. They are just trying to male some money selling you dung so that they can have milk for themselves to make milk-shakes and ice-creams. Instead, make some milk yourself. The recipe is given below:

MILK

Ingredients

• Sugar (lots of)
• Water (One liter Kerosene bottle)
• Cooking Gas (whatever you have)
• White Color
• Cow
• Bucket
• DairyMilk (Note:DairyMilk is Not milk)

1.Mix everything(leave the cow alone!) in a container and heat it till you have no more cooking gas left.

2.Milk MUST come from a cow, so take your mixture near one and pretend to milk the cow. Make sure you pull the cow's udders and nothing else- things are pretty confusing down there.

3.Enjoy the natural milk without any artificial contamination.

Cheers!

Mexicana in Nepal

I sometimes wonder why we don't have any Mexicans in Nepal. How come US of America is swamped with Mexicans so much so that some actually dislike them, but in Nepal, where they are really required, they are only found in handfuls, and those that are found are treated as celebrities? Why cant more Mexicans come to Nepal to be treated as celebs.

There's this idea that all the Mexican girls are really hawt, and Mexican guys are like Hritik Roshan in that chocolate ad. I'm not sure if that's true, but either way, I want more Mexicans in Nepal.

I understand Mexico is a lot like Nepal. There's a lot of crime, and drug cartels(and such as other criminal groups)  threaten the government, there are more poor people than rich people, their Capital is basically a hell-hole, and all the Mexicans are totally crazy about Um'Reeka. So there's just one difference between Mexico and Nepal: while Mexicans only 'totally crazy', Nepalis are like 'OMG, OMG! This is totally so kickass awesomme... This is my drream... Yayy' about USA.

Mexican food is good too, if you like the combination of  bland food items mixed with spicy stuff that WILL cause smoke to come out of the hair-pores on your scalp. It's a rad combination, that only Mexico and Nepal share in the whole wide Universe, and so Mexicans are cool and awesome, just like flying toy helicopter that my parents got for me in my 14th Birthday, but which, unfortunately I broke in 2 days, mainly because I did not understand that helicopter wings are really fragile and are not to be messed with or experimented upon by manually pushing around.

 That is not to imply that Mexicans are fragile, but that Mexicans are nice, and they are very cheap for Americans, and Americans would like to have as many as they can have unless, of course, they actually ask for something like money, food, or amenities, after which they become expensive toys you cannot maintain, and therefore have to be sent back home because they can no more stay legally in your country because how can they? Can't you see that they are doing jobs in your country for half or less of what anyone else is willing to do for, while your other countrymen are going jobless because they simply do not agree to working for so cheap, and that is not good for your country and the American People?

The religious rite of rearranging room

Life presents humans with several occasions where they can change themselves, turn away from the 
things they have always been with, and start afresh. Such occasions make a wandering beggar want 
to turn to a good hard-working Samaritan, until the NewYork Police accuses him wrongly and outs him to prison for six months, they can turn a thief to a good person who will never resort to his old tricks and tools again, except when his fiancée’s sister/cousin gets trapped inside her father’s Very Secure bank vault, so that he has to break in to it to save her, or make a scientist out of an idiot. The religious and highly revered activity of Rearranging The Room/Apartment is also one of such occasions.
 

The process is initiated when a roommate feels that the old setting is boring and wants to procrastinate doing actual work, even though he probably has an important interview or an advanced maths test. He collects his roommates/flatmates, and if they are unwilling, keeps on annoying them by singing out-of-tunes songs loudly or turning the TV to a channel that is not appropriate to be viewed while writing an essay on 'Morality: Is it subjective to one’s beliefs or do universal standards exist?' The roommate, with no option but to tag along in the process of Rearranging The Room, agrees, and then begin a series of discussions and compromises on the best possible alternate arrangement of the room.
 

After several what-would-otherwise-have-been-productive hours of pointless discussions, and meaningless compromises that are not really compromises but giving up discussion on the topic entirely once one realizes the triviality and the pointlessness of the argument, the physical shifting begin. The chairs have to dragged around and not carried, so that the noise disturbs everyone living in the vicinity of your room. Once they come to check what-the-f-is-wrong-with you and shouldn’t-you-be-completing-your-important-essay-right-now, they have to be asked for help in shifting the room. They will agree, because that will be the only way the cacophony will stop. However, no matter how honestly they try to help, they will be more of a hindrance than help, moving the tables a few inches way of the intended place, and putting the bed in such an angle that you cannot catch the rising and the setting sun from the same position from your bed.
 

The shiftings will take several hours more than that should take, because the ‘helpers’ keep complaining about ‘wounds’, ‘thirst’, and ‘tired’. As the process is finally complete, the dwellers may open the locks with the heavy chains to let the so-called ‘helpers’ go their way and do whatever they want to do.
 

Unfortunately, not all will be well. The new arrangements would probably come with their own sets of problems, like the bunk beds completely blocking all the windows, or the tables positioned the furthest from the light source. Even though the settings will appear to be better for the first few days, the dwellers will realise soon that the original setting was better, and revert back. After a few weeks, one of the roommates will again be bored of the settings, and the process continues till eternity, or the day human civilization is wiped out due to the mistakes of complaining losers who don’t want to help you because they have ’finals from the day after tomorrow’ and tell you to these things ’when you have more free time in your hands.’ 

Visit: done

Babies are cute and stuff, but when them grow up, all hell breaks loose, without exception.

Case in point: The kids we took to the visit last week. On the micro we hired, they fought, teased all the passer-bies, tried spitting into the cars behind us, and threw shoes at each other--all from inside the jeep. Thankfully, their teacher reprimanded hem, and they were relatively docile after that. At the Patan museum, the caretaker even told us they were the one of the least-rowdy school kids they had come across.

Anyways, MIE is almost coming to end (Finally?) and I am glad too many bad things did not happen to us. The teachers were really helpful, the kids were (generally) cooperative inside the school, they had fun and so did most of the volunteers.

Oh, and about the problem I was worried about: it seems my worries were unjustified. The big kids did not create too much problems once we started treating them as our helpers instead of like students. It was interesting to see  the classmates divided into 'semi-teacher' and 'students' but we had no other problems and things worked out pretty well.

Fits of giggling hysteria strikes again

Has any teenage boy every reached adulthood without going through the sacred ritual of hearing giggles from girls and wondering if its him, and thinking probably not, but who knows, maybe its him. Maybe the zip was lose?

Its a tradition as long as the human civilization and probably much older. During the stone ages, when a gang of young hunters got ready to go out and hunt some animals, a group of fellow cave-mates would probably giggle, giggle. The hunting party would stop and whisper amongst themselves. Everyone, check your weapons, everything in place? Okay, what about the leather we are wearing? That's fine? Great! Lets do it. But the giggles would not stop, and keep bothering our young hunters.

By the time they found the prey, anxiety would have turned them into psychotic killers. They would not see the teeth of the Sabretooth trying to pierce their skin, or the weight of the Mastadoon trying to crush them. All they would see is blood, and attack, and attack. JUST TELL ME, YOU WILD BEAST, WHY WERE THEY GIGGLING? WHY? They would scream, drowning even the loudest of roars in loud fit of anger. After the animal was killed, the anger would subside, and they would go back to the caves, almost forgetting what had conspired previously that day.

In this modern day and age, it is not possible for human teenage boys to go kill endangered and extinct animals every day. The hobby of making animals extinct for fun is no longer considered politically correct, thanks to our judgmental governments and all the draconian laws they try to impose upon us. So now, there is a lot of anxiety among male teenagers about the nature of the giggles. Questions like Do I have a mismatched pair of socks? Am I sure I did not forget wearing pants today? Do I smell? Do I look like a clown? Is it because of my zits? have become a basic part of every boy's life.

Some may argue that the problem does not exist in the Middle East, thanks to the Burqa issue and all the segregation between girls and boys, but it could not be any further from the truth. Muslim girls are, in fact, even more biting at the giggling because they have vengeance boiling in their bloods. And since they are behind the Burquas anyway, they don't even have to fear of reprimand or retribution. The problem is so big that all the evil-women-laugh-tracks you hear in movies and on the TV are, in fact, clips of schoolgirls in burqa laughing at their male friends. See? You can hear all the hate and promise of revenge in some short sound bites. The moral of the story is, never, ever mess around with girls/women in Burqa. You never know what's behind the dark veils. Heck, it could even be Sirius Black's dead body which has never really been found.

The life and times of Budhanilkantha School-- Script

It is a breezy spring evening. 'A' and his friends are roaming around on the green grass at the park. The ground is soft.

Friend B(thinking): Hmm. This looks just about right. I wonder
Friend C(Thinking): Who should it be? Who should it be? Who?
Friend D (Hmmm)


The four attack A, and pin him to the ground. C climbs unto A, B throws all his weight on C, and D simply sleeps over C.


B, C, and D(in unison): Peeda, Peeda. Haha, you bugger you thought we wouldn't get you? 

D: But we gotcha? Haha. Now you stay in this Hell for 5 minutes.


A: What? Bah? You guys think this is painful? 
(Breathes heavily and starts to choke) 
You losers this is nothing. You guys wait. You just wait... You people will soon be praying you had never gotten out of your mommies. [struggles, but the struggle proves futile. starts breathing more heavily] Okay, I'll give you poor sods a chance, okay? You guys leave me now, and I wont avenge this. How's that for a deal.


B: [slightly panting] Yeaahh.. Haha dream on idiot. You're not gonna go that easily, okay? Oh, oh so this not enough for ya? Well lets see you will do now... [Shouts] Heyy guyss, guyss! You peeps interested? We are giving peeda to A.


3 guys come over and throw themselves into the pile.


A: Not Cool. NOT COOL!

B: Heh, so you're giving up, loser. Okaay guys cool it, okay? I think it's getting a little too much. Even I am having a hard time breathing.

[the pile breaks up, but not before everyone wrestles the other, not intimately, though. After five minutes of kicking pushing, pulling, and squeezing one another, everyone's tired, sweating panting.]


E: Hey guys, it was fun right? We should do it again!
C: Yeah, it sure was. Lets do it again tomorrow?


Everyone [thinking]: Oh man, that was rough. I probably got the most bruises, and I am probably bleeding too. I am definitely not coming. I might become impotent within a week if I do this every day. 
[Aloud]
Yeah, yeah, great idea, man. We definitely should do this everyday.


Most of them return the following day, and get even more bruised.

Chatpate Unlimited

Chatpate (Origin unknown) has to be one of the greatest contributions of Nepali Civilization(heh, 'civilized'?), along with Momo(Origin: Ancient Tibet). Of course, that's not saying much, because there's not much Nepalis have given to the world, but still, Chatpate deserves it.

The very process of creation of the delicacy(for me, anyways), is intriguing. Take a handful of muri(puffed rice), some lemon juice, chillies, secret sauce, green garnishing, and whatever sour/salty/spicy you can find, and mix well. It should be wet, but not so much that muri gets all flimsy. Pour the contents in a paper-cone, add a few pieces of cardboard that will serve as 'spoons', and you are good to go.

Mothers will disagree, of course. For them, the muri used by the chatpatewallahs is old and cheap, and probably contaminated by TB organisms.

"Lemon maybe good for you when you have cold, but used here, they become harmful ingredients that will certainly give you ulcers, chillies are just as bad, and chilly powder is powdered brick mixed with something spicy. The green garnishing is probably rotten too," they will say.

 However, the ingredient that gets the most complaints is definitely the secret sauce, because--duh-- its secret.

It's surprising how the chatpatewallahs never reveal their recipe for the sauce, even when it's not particularly good. Even when they do reveal the recipe, they are probably lying, because you can NEVER make the sauce that tastes exactly the same. So what's up will all the secrecy? WHY do they have to hide the recipe as if its the 7X formula for coke. It should be that difficult to figure it out? Nepali mothers argue that those recipe are secrets because they have inedible-but-tasty ingredients in them.

The main complaint mothers have about the sauce is the water it is based on. Do the poor chatpatewallahs really buy expensive mineral water as the base, which they claim, or do they use any water they can get hands on: cheap and no-hassles? The dirty, dirty water could contain anything, and by anything mothers argue that the possibilities are unlimited

The mothers are probably right--they usually are. But will that stop their children, aged anywhere from 7 to 27 from going to the chatpatewallahs and eating the contaminated chatpates which probably have more number of species of harmful organisms than different ingredients in them? Probably not. Why? Because the Chatpates are so frikkin' damn good, and you cannot resist them. They are like Coke, but without the hassle of having to meet the dealers in secret alleys, and the ever-present possibility of getting caught by the cops and having to rat put the entire gang, only to be shot dead the moment you are free from prison. GO CHATPATE!

The Beijing Olympics, Politics and the Media

Hello, This is 8th August of the year 2008 and the time is 8.08. Know what it is? The Olympic Games are being formally opened by the Chinese president in Beijing. The program will be dubbed by global media as the 'Grandest Ceremony Ever' and 'Dwarfing the Athens Games'. A very important event that deserves some coverage, you might say. Forgive them, but the American media begs to differ.

NBC network has promised 3600 hours of coverage of the Olympics. That's good, so what about its counterparts? The majority of the American networks that I watched preferred the war in Georgia than the Olympics. Nothing wrong with that. Absolutely fine. If you feel that death of humans in a war should get more media coverage than a freak-show where billions of Yuans have been spent, I'm probably with you.

Oh, but they covered the Olympics too. Surprise! Not so much when they show Tibetan dissidents in Nepal, Taiwanese protesting the Olympics, Professors saying Olympics should have been boycotted, and the 60's hippie-style protesters in France and the US demanding something from China, I don't know what, maybe better heath service or social security..., instead of the actual scenes from the 'Bird's Nest'. I thought there was some sort of rule in journalism that when you are covering an event, you should, as a bare minimum show at least some scenes from the place where it is taking place. Turns out I was wrong. Jackie Chan said, 'Jade, there is no honor among thieves!' I don't know about thieves, but of News Networks I am sure.

Don't get me wrong. I see from their point of view too. And to be a bit more truthful, there were scenes from Beijing, of the Olympics day. Yes, there were several interviews of the locals and the fireworks and fanfare got some air-time too. They seem to be forgetting their hardheadedness, I thought as I watched those clips. I was wrong.

The fireworks clips apparently had been shown to prove that air pollution in Beijing was reaching unprecedented hazardous levels and the  fireworks of the opening ceremony opening ceremony had increased it even more. It was argued that it could be dangerous to the athletes. Some doctors were brought in to tell that performance could decrease drastically in such conditions and that the lungs could be permanently damaged. It seems health officials from the American team were watching the program instead of the ole' boring displays in the Bird's Nest stadium. The American athletes were issued masks some three hours after the ceremony had ended.

Yay! Patriotic media saves the day again! 

I am no Hu Jintao supporter. I don't believe in communism, or autocracy or dictatorship. Suppression of any minority will lead only to further problems, I have seen it in my country. What the Chinese government is doing in Tibet, Taiwan, Africa and other places could be wrong, I cannot say. I am not sure. Neither are the 1 billion Chinese who are not in the communist party. However,  I am sure that ignoring Olympics like the Japanese or some American networks is not the right way to deal with it and so are a billion Chinese. With political issues, one is fighting against the Chinese government, the regime in China. With Olympics, one is going against all  the Chinese in the world. It is a matter of pride for them, a sign that their country is progressing, that they are moving forward. Mess with it and the wrath of almost a third of the world's population will be upon you.

People have problems with what China is doing. They protest against it. It is their right and they may do whatever they wish to, unless it messes with others' rights. Where they go wrong is in their inability to distinguish between 'China' and 'Chinese'. When they don't get the fact that they are hurting the Chinese when in reality they have problem with China, they are in deep trouble. The Chinese are not China because they don't have same views and ideas and disagree with  each other. They, like everyone else, have their own perspective on things that is not the same as their friends' or the people in the government. In that sense, the Chinese are not united and when one speaks against a certain Chinese policy, a lot of Chinese are sure to support, even though they may not be heard. However, when you speak against the Chinese in general, no Chinese is going to be with you. All the 1.5 bn Chinese around the globe will fight you. Olympics signifies the Chinese spirit, the spirit of a billion people who have seen hard times and are glad it's all over. If one should dare to tease them, he should be ready to bear the consequences. When almost a third of the world's population is after you, things are not going to go good for you, whoever you may be, whatever you may have. 

As they say, 'Never tickle a Sleeping Dragon's Nose.' 

The Chatpate Conundrum

Chatpate(no italics) is one of the greatest contributions Nepali culture has made(along with Momos) to humanity. But not all Chatpates are the same-- some are good, and some not so much. Some are, in fact, so bad that that they create uncertainty about their greatness in those that eat them. Everyone needs to understand the cause of difference in the quality, to be able to distinguish the good from the bad.

The most important quality of a good chatpate is its ability to be customized for personal taste. A good  chatpatewallah will always ask his(assumption) customers the saltiness they prefer, the magnitude of spicyness they would like to have, ranging from 'not spicy at all' to 'holy *hit, call the doctor. I might die. I will die if I don't get something to get rid of this', and the exact amount of the secret sauce to be used. If the chatpatewallah does not ask you for these things, he's not a good at this particular trade,  no matter how good a cook or street-food specialist he maybe in general. Never, ever go to him again.

The possible combination are infinite. Probably not infinite, but  so large that if you use combination/permutation to calculate, your calculator will show 'error' which could be assumed to be 'infinite' for our case. The fun thing about this food is, if you want to, you will taste a different flavor of chatpate every time you eat, and you never have to repeat a taste.

The other important factor to consider is the wetness to desirability ratio. A good Chatpate should be wet. However, it should not be so wet so as to make it icky-icky. A good rule of thumb to keep in mind to check how good a Chatpate is by looking at the wetness:desirability ratio. If the ratio is less than 1, that is you find it more desirable than it is wet, it will be too dry and crunchy. If the ratio is much larger than one, ie, if it looks much wetter than desirable, it probably is not going to taste too good. So a good Chatpate is the one that maintains the wetness:desirability ratio (which shall henceforth be known as Runil's Ratio)  as near to 1 as possible.

The usual factors, such as hygiene, and taste do play a part, as in anywhere else, but the final thing to consider while judging a good chatpate is the kind of spoon the chatpatewallah gives. Even after the chatpate wallah has proved his cleanliness, his talents in making a good chatpate, allows for infinite customizations, and maintains the Runil's Ratio, the chatpate produced by him cannot be considered to be of good standards if the spoon/scoop offered is not sturdy enough. The scoop should be able to withstand at least 22 scoops of the chatpate it accompanies. Better scoops, however, should give away after 32 scoops, so that the second scoop, also included, is used.

What Dress Will The New Nepali President Wear?

A madhesi has become the first president of Nepal. Good. The impossible 'One Madhes One Pradesh' slogan should subside down. And the madhesi people should feel that it is just as much as their country as it is that of white skinned northerners. The big question is, does our New president think himself more of a madhesi or a Nepali.

Dr. Yadav has become the president because of his Mahesi ethnicity, no one is going to argue on that. But as I write now, he is probably taking the oath of presidency from the Chief Justice. What dress is he wearing?

Is he wearing a dhoti and kurta to show that he is from terai and that he is representing the madhesi people? It would be a blunder. He is a Nepali citizen first, and then a madhesi. If people of all ethnicities consider themselves to be members of their ethnic group first and then citizens of a country, there is no point talking about 'sovereignity' and 'integrity' of any country. Barack Obama, the US presidential candidate put it wonderfully,

There is no white America and there is no black America. There is only one America I know of and that is the United Stated of America.

But then, he cannot be wearing Daura Suruwal either. One should think of all those madhesi zealots who think that they have been suppreses for thousands of years and it is their turn for revenge...They would go mad over it and the whole point of making a Madhesi a president would be pointless. ' Daura surual is imposed upon other contrymen by the feudal Pahades. We must protect our culture and fight those colonoal imperialists. Let us preserve our integrity.' Daura suruwal would be a bad choice too.

What would be a safe bet for our new President? A good and sensible suggestion would be coat-pant. That way, he would not be in danger of being too provincial or neglecting his identity as a madhesi. These days nobody dares comments upon suit-pants; the days of bigots who considered these dresses and remnants of British colonialism has long-away passed.

Best Of Luck! Dress Well...

Farewell, dear friend

It is with utmost horror that I have to report the ultimate demise of our dear fellow-resident of our cubicle, the Big Fat Gray Mouse. He stayed with us for longer than we care to admit (or perhaps it was his ancestor?) and had all the fun at our expense. Nevertheless, I feel his demise should not be treated with disrespect—even a filthy vermin who bites and tears apart your favourite school shirt on the eve of the most important official event deserves respect—so I shall pay tribute to him by reminiscing our encounters with the fine fellow.

We (the human dwellers of the cubicle) came to know of his existence the day we heard something making a metallic noise at 3 in the morning. At first, we had believed we were being haunted by either a human thief or an ectoplasmic ghost, but once it was confirmed that the species was not a human, living or dead, we had no option but to go after it with our slippers. In the beginning we meant no harm, we still believed in the sanctity of life, be it human or mice, but once we saw the dirty rascal had bitten into and contaminated our secret cache of noodles and dry fruits that we had saved for the exam-time, we had no other option but to try killing it. The day was lucky or the Mice: it escaped.

Since that day, we have had several more encounters with him, and most of them involved him running for his life while we tried a myriad of options to kill him. We tried poisoned biscuits—they were almost ingested by our human neighbours next door but not him, we tried the trap—we collected a few lizards and almost cut our fingers but had no effect on the mouse, and we tried the age-old Hit The Little Bugger With The Broom. We failed every time. We had almost resigned ourselves to living with that nutter who had, it seemed, vowed to make our lives miserable.

So perhaps it was our luck that the Principal’s house cat happened to be around, and decided to visit our cubicle. In a fashion probably not very different from Tom & Jerry’s the cat must have chased the mouse, pierced the soft skin with its claws, and eaten the internal organs. We were very sad to see the carcass of poor old fellow lying just outside the house, his intestines lying all around. It would be a lie to say we would miss that horrible creature, but live well, wherever you are Big Fat Gray Mouse!

Kung-Fu Panda - The funnyside of Kung Foo

Pandas can be funny... Really funny if they have been animated by a very big studio that can spend millions of dollars for a single shot. Kung Fu Panda is one such movie-when Pandas go the Kung-Fu way.

Po is a 'big fat Panda' who is interested in Kung-Fu. His teacher is a small mouse and father a stork- a perfect example of a dysfunctional family. He has four friends with him who take Kung-Fu classes. From a flimsy dorky fat Panda to the 'Legendary Dragon Warrior', Po's story is funny and serious, profound and light; a good and a bad movie rolled into one.

The theme of the story is 'There is no Secret Sauce, there's Just you,' the message being thrown down in unexpected context. Amusing and funny.

The movie is very, very  good if you look at just the last fifteen minutes. It's uncomplicated and you can get the geist of the story within a minute. And the comedy scenes are very funny even if they look like recycled ideas of recent animations like Scooby Doo-the movie.

The movie, as a whole, is not as entertaining as the advertisements would have made us believe. In fact, most of the scenes in the trailer are from the last half hour of the film. However, its a fine movie with a very good trailer...

Shame- Rushdie's Proud Saga

Salman Rushdie Rocks!

I'm know I'm a bit late to the party.

Yesterday I read his book 'Shame' which I expected to be something like Tasalima Nasrin's 'Lajja' which I feel is a chewing-gum with human emotions stretched to the limit. Rushdie's 'Shame',  thankfully does not tell us in words what we would understand anyway.

The story begins-and ends, with Omar Khayoum's story. He is taught never to understand shame, never to feel it. It is ultimately his end.

The book is sad read--SPOILER ALERT--, except a few side-characters, everyone dies by the end. It portrays the political situation in Pakistan , where even today, assassinations and military coups are as common as birthday parties and does it in such, such poetic and realistic manner that one feels Rushdie himself has come out to tell his story. At the end, the woman who survives the story looks like Benazir Bhutto but nature has beaten art again, Bhutto's last year's assassination would fit perfectly into Rushdie's story. Rushdie claims several times that he is doing a work of fiction but it is very difficult to believe him, the happenings in the story could be happening in Pakistan, or any country now.

The book, is a tale of power, revenge, death, coups, assassinations, fools, fools who consider themselves clever, murders, murderers who think they are innocent and of politicians. Like in all of Rushdie's works, there is no hero; Rushdie portrays all his characters as humans, with their faults, mistakes and vulnerabilities, but ultimately all humane.

Rushdie is a modern poet writing in prose. The whole point of poetry becomes obvious in his works, with their innuendos and their analogy of reality and the ideal. All aspiring politicians must read this...To understand life and ultimately, themselves...

Student politics: Turning the mobs the right way

Nepali Politics and Youth. Forgive my impudence but, YUCK!

Foreign media loves portraying the youth as a bunch of zealous college student who don't know death and can dare to do anything. They describe scenes of the recent peoples movement , vividly portraying youths as bold and fearless fighters for democracy and freedom. I am a Nepali youth, and I see things differently.

'We will herald development and peace in this country. We will burn the crown,' a just-popular student leader Gagan Thapa was quoted in the major papers that reported the mass movement in Kathmandu and youth involvement in it. Ask any nepali youth who is not affiliated to a student union, and Gagan Thapa is the only name you will get. Some can't even do that.

'Gagan Thapa. He is a government official, isn't it?,' asks one of my juniors as I write this. For those who don't know who Mr. Thapa is, he is a student leader whose parents live in the USA. The fact that his family is rich but he still is in politics stuns all the Nepali beyond comprehension. And that is what gives him his much-revered position. Having a rich family in the USA can do wonders for you in Nepal.

Student politics in Nepal means opposing the ruling party at whatever it does, no matter the party may be opposition or your on mother party. Having skills of oratory could be an advantage but you need the talent of acting out at an impulse without thinking of the consequences to reach to higher positions. A big gang considerably increases you chances of being seen as a youth leader as you can mobilize to strike and vandalize. Oh yes, vandalizing and going to prison are mandatory. If you have not earned either of these qualities, start thinking of some other job.

Call me a cynic if you want to, but I do see a silver lining here.

When things are as they currently are, no one is can possibly be unemployed. Joining politics is the panacea for all problems here. Got low marks? Politicize the issue, saying that the education system is too old. If your headmaster expels you, politicize, the education system is still mired by feudal ideas and needs 'revolutionary' changes.

Also, it provides employment to security forces, that are at the tune of 2,00,000. If there were no violent protests, what would the riot police and the armed police do. They would probably start revolting like they have done twice in recent days. We need more violence to quench their thirst for work.

Hospitals. If there were no policemen to get severely hurt or protesters to get wounded then most of the new Private Hospitals would probably close down and the doctors and nurses would go to 'Amreeka'. No, we would not want that.

What Can Be Done?

The hard part. I would not blame you if you were thinking,'OK you pessimist, so what do you want it to be?' That's the hard part.

First, make those student unions responsible and accountable. They don't have to report to anything so they do whatever they want. College authorities might seem a terrible suggestion but it should be thought. Give them work so that they have no spare time. Mobilize them for the improvement of their own colleges, engage them in social works, enrich them with literature and logic and philosophy. Make them think before they act.

Second, give them some powers inside their colleges. Restrained power should give a sense of responsibility. Make them feel that if someone spoils their exam because of their strike, it is their fault. Let them feel that if their college succeeds, it is their victory; if it fails, it is their failure.

Lastly, leave no place for complain. Understood, the resources are limited and the demands unlimited, but then, that's the human condition. If others are coping with it, then so should Nepal. Reduce nepotism and corruption in education. Understand that everyone is talented and make sure that the talented students get what they are talented in. Cultivate the feeling of mutual trust. Make them understand what co-operating and disagreeing non-violently means.

Of course, if the problem is solved, a lot of police, doctors and students would be unemployed but ...what the heck! Life would be better...