as i move through

After college, I got to work at around 11:30 and headed straight to our then Storytelling-now-PR-Room almost ready to be welcomed by Shweta dijju's hi with her sweet smile, Saroj Dai's "Oh, hi!" with a cheeky smile and Shebu's "Hi Mamina!". But the room was empty. All of our 7 white topped tables and ten chairs were vacant. The water bottles were still at our desk, the plants still in our windows. Our blue cupboards still protected all that we'd sorted out together only a few weeks back. Everything was in place but everyone wasn't there. "I don't even need the lights if I work in this corner by the window," I said out loud to myself and fixed a spot in the corner. I swear I heard Shweta dijju's "Mamina, yei aau na" as soon as I said that. Memories... I could sense Saroj and Shweta's senseless banter and Shebu's quirky comeback. I heard it clear inside my head. But, more than that, I was sure I felt them there....

I have always enjoyed walking. My father has been my walking buddy long before I learnt how to walk. We have pictures in our photo album of my father taking me to temples- with me all dolled up, high in his arms. I have some vague memories of going to mamaghar as he walked around carrying me on his shoulders. Now, it feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed- the city is different, my dad and I have grown up and old. But that's just how it is. These days, I find myself wanting to walk longer distances even when I have had a long tiring day. Thinking of this now, I remember days, years back, when my dad used to get home late at night after work. He'd always said he walked home from work. Even when his office was in Patan or when he was transferred to Baneshwor. Dad would say he left work on foot, went around Nardevi, Ason and walked all the way home. Most days, he'd have some sort of bakery with him. "It's tomorrow lunch for you and your brother!" he...

August 6, 2018. Saroj Dai, Shweta Dijju, Shebu and I have a weird dynamics running since our first day at Karkhana. We all stumbled into this at the same time but through different means and have shared an eerily similar yet different journey at Karkhana this past year. I wanted to sit down with them individually to talk to them about this past year and what more they look forward to at Karkhana and write about it. But things rolled out differently- now, all of us are diverging to different paths. Somewhere along the line, we’ll probably meet like we did here, at Karkhana. Getting to see someone grow and groom themselves throughout a whole year is a beautiful process in itself. We weren't really sure what we were in for when we first walked into those green gates of Karkhana. A year through, we can see where we stand and where we’ll go from here. Saroj dai and Shweta dijju are figuring out ways for further studies. Shebu is looking into ways how she can groom her eye for go...

I have now lost the bands of my first ever wrist watch. My first watch was pink, had red buttons and digital display. I had to adjust the pin to the first hole on the wrist to prevent the watch from sliding out of my wrist like the gold painted bangles my mum bought for me. Now my wrists are way too big for them and I have grown less fond of bangles since I outgrew them. It was years later that I started wearing my mum's watch. I liked how the aluminum felt cool against my right wrist. I loved how in this watch, I could see the second hand moving and tic-toc sound it made. Most days, I concentrated on that sound to practice my breathing when things weren't good. The tiny labels of the watch were a contrast against the black painted at the base. Mum had recently stopped wearing the watch and had placed it with millions of her poteys , decorated as an artifact in this ancient wooden, black painted cupboard at home. It was probably in one of the whimsical afternoons that I...