as i move through

I always knew that I’d love the sea the minute I saw her. It felt like an obvious kind of love. No matter how distant or foreign we were to one another, the love felt destined. The morning that I saw her, dancing so close to the shore, love felt tangible. I could touch love and let her slip through my fingers. I could let love come to me. I could whisper gently to her. And I could let her know that I miss home. Over 5000 miles always from home, at the sea that I had yearned for so long, was where I actually realized I wasn’t at home. As the sea waves crashed at the rocks, I felt my heart sink with another yearning, this time, for home.

This was my first international flight - the first time that I was moving away from home for the long haul.   When I saw the morning sun that day, the hills, the cloudy sky, the Kathmandu skyline that I am so familiar with, I wept. I thought of Baa, Aama and dai. I thought of my beautiful dogs who I miss so much (I have smiled at every dog I have passed by here and called them a sweetheart). As the day began, I felt rushed - weirdly, all my bags had been packed a while back. I just felt like I had a lot to do, lists of mental checklists to go through. The rush was real. But it didn't "hit" me at the airport like they said it would. It didn't hit me when I sat down for lunch that morning - a full plate of mam, dal and tarkari that Aama made for us. It didn't hit me when I sat with my dogs and held them close to whisper to them to be gentle and sit tight, nice and warm at home. It didn't hit me when family started coming in at home to see me off. At the airport,...

Little notes from Sept 1-16. The past two weeks at home, I have chewed on my lips and held my breathe to hold back tears. I have used onions as an excuse in the kitchen while preparing lunch for my family. I have crossed my fingers in my pockets, blinked my eyes fast enough to hide tears while on shopping trips. The last few days I had friends and family over at my home and I closed off all thoughts and stayed in the moment with them. I wanted to commit those moments to memory and let them settle in. Times with them made me realize how grateful I am to have people I connect with, can bicker with. Thank you for making time for me despite it all. I love you. PART I: Five meltdowns and 16 crying sessions later.  And now to Kathmandu, For every time that I held my Baa's hand and walked around everywhere in Kathmandu, I have earned memories with him. Sometimes his nerves would get the jitters and he'd clench his hand so hard my fingers would turn white. I'd always complain and t...

June 15, 2:00 AM I started the Festa Dinner a minute before Zero O'clock - with a silent, secret prayer from my side. I have finished watching the one hour dinner video and right now I feel a vacancy like never before. My eyes hurt, my head is burning. But my heart feels heavy despite the vacancy. This is a weird lull. "You're my best friend for the rest of my life." I hear this on loop inside my head as I write this. Throughout the video, they kept repeating how this is not the end. They were so apologetic through it all. They are not assuming how we will feel about this. They want us to understand their sincerity. They want us to see it for what it is. They trust us to respect their decision. This is the next chapter. When Joon said how in this timeline, this is the best version of them that they can give us. I was nodding my head, agreeing to him. When Yoongi said he has squeezed out everything he wants to talk about and now wants to learn more and practice, I was ...

TW: Mentions of assault and sexual abuse I am writing this on a Monday morning because when I woke up today, I remembered fear. The fear that I felt last night when I left a happy event with my friends from work. It was a good evening for all of us - good music, conversations, fun drinks to try, and a lot of dancing. It was closer to midnight when we all left the event. I was supposed to bring one of my friends back home with me because I live close by. And in my head, up until that moment, I was ready to walk all the way home with her. But the moment I stepped out of the venue, my brain sent me flashbacks of stories Sushmita shared. The plots I mapped inside my head were full of possibilities of us getting assaulted on our way back. That 20 minute walk felt like a trap. I was scared. I was terrified of what could happen. I was scared to walk the same roads I have walked thousands of times in the past 24 years. This feeling of fear is the first thing I remembered when I woke up today...

I started writing exactly ten years before today - my first story. And the only piece of fiction I have written yet. It was the story of a family of bears living in the woods - the parents and their two children. It was a happy home. They had all their meals together and lived each day fully, there was always honey to share. The story was of the baby bear who lost her way on her way back home.  Oh the loneliness the child felt and the fear of not finding her home again. I had no words or experience or idea of how that must of have been. Now, at 24, I feel her. I feel her a little too much. Writing was my way to talk, I started writing in my pursuit of seeking an outlet. I wanted to let go. In the world outside, I didn't know how to, didn't think I could, didn't think I should. But with words, I thought I could have my way. I could plot, plan, write, edit, scrape a draft, submit... I owned what I wrote. With my writings, I felt that I had something to call my own. As I grew,...