You Are a Nepalese

Sailesh Dewan Ra

The moment you initiate to grasp
the soliloquy of the anonymous Gurkha 
with nil identity, and not run upon the captivity of democracy,
You are a Nepalese.

The instant you revive yourself 
From the torpor of an ignorant hibernation
Induced by trickery and word-play,
But notch your way up the Himalayas.
You are a Nepalese. 

The moment your garbed attire 
Inspire culture and robust tradition 
And not that head withers like
The fading dusk in mediocrity or scorn, 
But be it the time of pride, 
You are a Nepalese. 

The moment you seek not an obsolete tradition; but sense it,
It’s when the rubicund Rhododendrons
Not revolve around paramour’s cheek,
but flashes the saga of a bloody struggle,
You are a Nepalese. 

Neither do you smear the history of antiquity nor flounce that valor;
But the day you pace in silence quietly alike the dew drops in the morn,
It’s when the simile of a ‘bumping-frog’ will be called myth,
And wait not for the mother’s tongue to blurt, but speak by yours with eloquence and comfort, 
You are a Nepalese. 

The day you unleash thyself from the perplexity of Robert Frosts dilemma,
But stride through the notion of Laxmi Prasad Devkota,
And live your life with courage to call out a word “Mo Sunyama sunyasari bilayen.”
(I seeped in silence silently)!
But usher both the lingo hand-in-hand,
You are a Nepalese. 

The day to repose the touch of a mundane,
An adherence for all;
In slush of a brook,
Lingering cricket in twilight,
Darling dialect in ones ear,
The pine foliage along the horizon emblazoned by a chiseled Kanchenjunga,
The truest treasure of nature!
For it invites the memory of your place by a whiff of Marigold and chrysanthemum,
You have something modest underneath your flesh,
That has molded you as a Nepalese. 

It’s the very jiffy of the day
When the mere khukuri starts to provoke an adrenaline within and escort your stare at the crest of Kanchenjunga,
It’s when the vibrant tea leaves halts to reflect refreshment but a blistered palms,
It’s the day of realization when you hear the mourn of tea laborers not the morning sip of some aristocrats.
But the struggle,
The aroma of the sweaty teary compound,
You nurture love!
For you are Nepalese. 

May it be the grandiose Pokhara or the rood-side stalls of Kurseong and Darjeeling, 
When the string of sarangi and madal
Will dawn on a galore tongue-tied Gashi to pen down the lyrics on the woes enveloped by the rhythm of lament,
Oh! Your are Nepalese. 

Yes!
It’s that very moment when the tart of gundruk,
And rich tang of kineema at a spot ,
transcends you to the panoramic essence of the culture and tradition,
It’s when by mere dear smile of the passersby you get wafted at the cradle of your place!
This all makes you quit distinct,
A Nepalese. 

[Sailesh Dewan Rai (20) is a student pursuing BA English (Hons.) 3rd year at Kurseong College, Darjeeling, India.]