Pratik Rimal

"The charm of mortal life, since her arrival has been joy, thoughts and longing of togetherness...a wish to be always behind her and protect her...maybe life after all gives us a second chance. And with your arrival, I now indeed believe that it sincerely does for our heavenly father cannot be heartless, as he instilled us with hearts of love, trust, faith, compassion and joy! .....

......Time tickles in joy and passes with a melancholic song. The hollow cry of penetrable sounds from the wild beasts underneath the moonlight alerts me of your hopeful
presence...and I am waiting..."

(extracted from: Stars Fall Down)



About Me

My photo
Kathmandu, Nepal
Ever since I first started to write my first poem and article, I've loved to write. I continue to learn to write. In doing so, I let my feelings, thoughts, and emotions run wild and let people know what I intend to say, what I want to say. For me, writing is a creative expression to express what we never can say by speaking... Your readings and feedback are always important to me. Therefore, I wish that you'd write to me. My email address: pratik.rimal@hotmail.com Cell: +977-98511-42610

Monday, June 23, 2008

Vision Quest

A thronging pain reverberates deep within me as I look for a vision that has left me restless days and nights and spellbound me in its scrutiny. Solemn did I stay, draining an outlet of my reality through eyed dreams longing to resilient emotions, sufferings and sentiments by a vision quest.

Yet, the prolonged experience of my life skills and my philosophy interrupts the quest I have set myself on. I’m left with options, having being stranded on the middle of the sea without rudders to guide a proper way. Should I proffer the harsh reality or let my imaginations weigh down its reign upon me as I surrender to any of the options.

And again, despite the options, I stay confused because either of the rudders is as strong as the other; luring to take a side. Having being lost in the sea, I stay silent during the scorching heat and travel during the nights looking the bright star.

In spite of my disillusionment that is to last for a minute while it spreads its fragrance of confusion, the spirit of my soul and the zeal to look my own way craving a self identity on my own finally comes as a lasting rudder to show me way in any of my vision quest.

Delighted, I now travel night and day; indifferent to the sweltering heat of the sun and the colossal wind and silence of the night to reach the goal and cherish the journey for eternity despite of my short lived life.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Enlightened

I now scorn at my stupidity and listen to my creator’s voice that reverberates within me, and enlightens me; making me prodigious to other mortal beings I live with…that surrounds me. I laugh at my stupidity as I tried to make a destiny that wasn’t ordained to me by the God, and so I was beaten and baffled by the life I live. Had I listened and accepted the ordained destiny by the creator, I would have had a clear vision and meaning of the life I live…value its importance, cherish those precious moments I love, and live my days to the fullest; till I sleep for the last time…never to wake up again.
After being enlightned, I ask myself, would I loose what was never mine? Never, because it wasn’t my property. With this, I forlorn the destiny that I made and accept the Lord’s wish which I had under looked calling myself an atheist.
The solitary nights and days that I spent in solitude, denying God and his voice that I heard within now comes with a strong impulse to pray and kneel down for forgiveness in order to be redeemed. With this thought, I now know why we are mortals, and I say it is "because we deny our creator and do not listen to his words and orders despite being aware of his existence. "
After being enlightened, I now deem the destiny I made as sand in a fist that slips away no matter how much we try to hold on, and the ordained destiny, a stone of a particular color, consigned to all.
And now, my unity with God in peace and tranquility is reserved. Enlightened, I now spread my hands, rise being prodigious and fly without wings.

Inconstancy

Those words of nirvana now echo in my heart and mind as I become restless…inconstant. And in search of constancy, I thus long for the enchanting wind to take me away to a distant land where I dream a dream…of togetherness…where I can unite with my creator.
Inconstancy is a natural rule, someone said to me, exemplifying me the night’s moon that has to go in the dawn, and the heaven’s eye, that sets in the dusk. And someone again said, ‘fairness declines’ by the time upon which we bend; trying to make me content replacing inconstancy.

But I strive…and continue to strive for I believe, a man can never be content until there’s the peace of mind…a noble word from a noble mind, and I again ask, how do I seek and find constancy when I myself am a wandering soul at an unknown destination without a company to ease my journey…to share a moment of togetherness in this short life I have?

I ponder at these thoughts that makes me restless at nights and days. Would life ever be constant? Or would it resemble one, at the least? I do not know for I lack wisdom and knowledge. The sense of moral duty regardless of my search for constancy interrupts my unity with the god. I slip and stumble down to earth although I had seen the heaven’s gate open with angels on each side to welcome me; where enlightened men and saints rule. And so I console myself with a subtle sublime smile that surpasses beauty and goes unnoticed.

My journey to the heaven now enlightens me although I still am restless. I feel joyous and overwhelmed. After the journey, I try being content with peace of mind, a beating heart and a soul that now wonders…wander at the human destiny ordained by the creator with reverberating voices of inconstancy.

Monday, June 2, 2008

De-profoundis...a cry from the depth

Genesis

Life shined bright to the poor couple when Bertha, his wife bore a boy, who, the farmer believed, would help him in the palace while the boy stayed there…learning and serving; continuing a practice of seven generations. The little boy’s was named James, having been born on the day James Christ got redeemed.

A year later, Mary was born to the Highnesses inside the palace.

James virtually grew up in the palace and knew Mary closely. Mary was a girl with that brilliant smile and spark in her eyes, that promised to stay till her existence giving others hope and love, which she probably did. But soon she had to go to a convent for her education. She was five when she left and returned after her eighteenth birthday.

James had also grown up to a young man with powerful shoulders while his parents turned frail.

The parchment of her arrival had come and James was excited about seeing his long, lost friend; after all he had last seen her when she was five! Finally, Mary came after a week. Her graceful presence came and he felt as though flowers would blossom on her trodden steps. The powerful attractive man stayed startled to see her; amazed to recollect the thought if this was the very girl with whom he once played! And yes, he knew, it was her, for she still owned that smile and sparkling eyes!

“My princess” exclaimed her father as he hugged and kissed her forehead.
“I have always longed to see you, my little darling.’ “That’s why I sent Father Nathan to get you off the convent. And, what have we here? You grown thinner little girl! Don’t they feed you? Those convents don’t do no good.” The Highness made a statement.

“Papa” she said, sobbing. This was the first time she spoke and her sweet voice echoed in James ears as he didn’t hear when she called him until she shook him off.

“James, you grown handsome, I must confess” said Mary teasingly.
“Thank you, your heiress, and you are beautiful still and own those eyes that I adore.” Mary did not say anything, but replied with a tempting blush.

II
A journey of two souls into one had begun for the spring had just come to welcome the two. Both spent hours looking at the vast empire that the Highness had amassed…roaming here and there…
Often, James would stare at Mary when she talked while the Sun shined bright upon her face, and when it hid into the clouds to welcome the moon, and Mary would do the same time and again. Each silently admired the stare of the other, but both pretended as if neither noticed.

“Spring has begun, my heiress. And the flowers look more beautiful with your presence” said James.
“Don’t call me heiress, James. I’m Mary, and stop flattering me.” And with those words a cadence of silence filled the air, each speaking with their eyes while their lips whispered “I love you” concealing their words deep within for no one heard the other’s voice which they longed.

III
Spring had changed into summer. They had been spending long time together and knew each other closely. The summer had come with its scorching heat and sweat. Both Mary and James had kept a distance after their rumors of togetherness spread in the palace. How do signs work together to show ways, no one knows, but they do know that it would work out.
“‘James, I guess you’re in love with someone, and I don’t know who, but I will soon find it out.” Mary made a repeated remark that later became a quarrel. For the first time James was startled, but then he longed to kiss her lips and say that it’s you.

“I love you” James said in rage finally getting irritated. Mary had least expected it when they were quarrelling and it brought the coldness into an abrupt end with a look of astonishment on Mary’s face.

“I love you, Mary” repeated James this time with tenderness. Deep inside, he feared this treachery to the Highness for, he was the seventh generation serving the palace… and Mary was an heiress!

Her eyes stared deep into the horizon when she spoke, and the depth of those eyes, James couldn’t fathom. “I love you, too” replied Mary. “And I don’t know since when…probably the moment we had departed twelve years ago. I thought of you at nights and days wishing to get back home to talk to you” she said getting lost in her own world where she saw just James and herself.

A silence had slowly crept its shadow between them when Mary broke out with a sublime smile, “Maybe the spring really has begun, James. It really has.”

And for the first time, a sweet shadow at the edges of his consciousness longed to reach her for her presence in the dark nights while they shared their first kiss in hustle fearing guards. Silence had yet again crumbled expect their eyes that talked of their helplessness because Mary didn’t let go of the thought of him being poor; although she least bothered it. But the thought of her father and his laws of status-quo mattered and she knew he would never accept, and that too with a servant?

Soon her eyes stretched to the horizon when she whispered in a low voice, “Papa…” Mary wept unable to speak further and James had only just touched her lips when a sentry saw.

IV
Night had come and with no alternative, both headed back to the palace while Mary promised the guard a bag of gold if he kept the secret.
“Papa, I want to go horse riding” said Mary the next morning.
“Why little girl! Sure enough. I’ll call James” and Mary stayed content with a smirk on her face which the Highness failed to notice upon the child’s brilliant smile and eyes that danced in joy.
The pretence of horse riding only was a means to run away from the palace and the cityscape. Dawn had turned into dusk and the details of both Mary and James went unknown. They were reaching far from the city and then the guard spoke.

V
“They have gone your, Highness. Gone. Your daughter betrayed you, and ran away with the servant she loved.” In a flash, a pool of blood filled the room, the guard was beheaded by the enraged Highness.
“Go and look for the two” roared the Highness to his men who immediately set on their horses and went for a search.

VI
The couple had been steadily going talking of their life together and sweet words of love when they were called by the guards, with whom James fought vigorously without success. Both were taken back to the palace; Mary unharmed, James wounded.

VII

“Villain!” screamed the Highness to James. “How dare you eye your heiress? You are a servant and she your master.”
“Papa, I love him and he isn’t my servant. He may be yours, but not mine.” Mary retorted and kept quite after a slap from her father while James screamed in agony at the pain from the soldiers’ lashes. Then the guards held her tight as she tried to get away from them.

“I hereby declare a decree: James shall be convicted and hanged for state treachery” Said the Highness.

And then his parents were brought in chains.

“Let them free. Let go of them. I’m the guilty. Not they.” James roared in tears and they were taken to confinement.
James sighed with relief but it had suddenly changed into an anger of deep hatred for he heard his parents voice…or rather a scream for the last time.

VIII
James was still being lashed as he continued to say “I love you to Mary” who did the same trying in frail hope to get off the guards arms that held her strong.
“I love you, James.”
“How long could love last in this earth?” asked James to the weeping Mary.

Exit
“Up above I promise
Oh! Beloved,
That we shall live,
And so will our love.
Thus we depart,
From earthly lands,
To join the heaven,
Where angels on their wings,
Welcome us…embracing you…
Embracing me…”
And, then his eyes stared blank into the horizon while spears and arrows pierced his chest with blood dripping off his body.
“James” cried a helpless Mary, getting herself free from the guards grip. She rushed to her love, kissed his lips, closed his eyes, sobbed a good-bye to the Highness and embraced those arrows and spears with a smile and her last words one would hear,

“…To join the heaven
Where angels on their wings
Welcome us…embracing you…
Embracing me…”

Wild Hysteria

The gentle breeze blows in wild hysteria with a trembling fear that makes human hearts pound in awe. These winds blow away those dusts, and with it, replace them with fresh ones, yet again. Colossal wind blows to soothe our pains, as we let ourselves and our thoughts blow away with it; which we imagine doing. We then long to fly…flow like the wind and those high flying birds which see the world with their eyes…a world in complete mess and sustained by logical thinking and scientific inventions and innovations.

The beauty is be-throne by the beholder’s eyes. Tranquilizing and sedating eyes of passive thinking and imagination has its own story to tell. But would these be heard? I fondly ask in innocence and with a note of perplex mind. Would these motions be explained by human words? No! I say, as I know that words get distorted by that wind, blown away to surprise human eyes and then take them back to reverie; disillusionment and seclusion! These humanly thoughts and the eyes could never understand the world of flux we created as we put ahead of us, those logical thinking that debars us from understanding of what the world is like.

I retreat; ask all to retreat to the ancient times when we evolved. Yes! I cry in sheer joy, those eyes could understand the world of today. For then; I believe, the world was newly born…or were we? I stick to the latter. Yet, as I dream, I take that the world had newly been born…born with us and bended to our logical thinking that now views it to be held by flux, and by absurd innovations and inventions.

CATCH 22

How strange does hope shine brightest in the darkest of times…when it is least expected! When our strength, courage and our own shadow had left us…deserted us leaving oneself in a state of reverie…making our existence; non existent!

Life isn’t all of happiness or sorrow, but of both. It is quite amazing to find how people stick to one extreme point of pessimism, but that’s when they see the light, which results in their bewilderment, that is when they question their existence; was I dreaming or is it a dream? After that they consume themselves with the most ethical and provocative question; how long would it last?

Human minds have always been in a flux of logical thinking, and step by step mechanical moves, although many wouldn’t surrender to this thought. We let our mind to tell what to feel; and our heart; what to think. This consequently results in the birth of those ethical and provocative questions. Had the heart felt, and mind thought, these ‘neon-questions’ wouldn’t have been raised, nor would have eaten us from within. And again, when you allow your heart to feel and mind to think, you yet ask the question of your existence…was I dreaming or is it a dream…and if it isn’t, how long would it last, with bewilderment and perplexed mind that now logically orders the emotions.

Dedicated to you Mom

“So long as eyes can see, and men can breathe,
So long lives this, and gives life to thee.”
Shakespeare, William

Life isn’t always what it seems to be. We the mortal beings have always suffered and will suffer the pains, when someone close to our heart passes, a bitter truth, we never long to accept. Maybe, that’s why people say life is a motion and thus compare with those mighty rivers that flows. That is why people console us to “Move on” when we’ve been through so much pain, which our mumbling lips cannot express save those falling tears and hysterical cries that calls and longs for the person we loved and lost. I am not the only one, neither the last one to have experienced the pain of my mother’s death…a purgatory now.

The moment of togetherness we shared in this life, a joy I longed to last forever ended with a flickering hope to MOVE ON. Every single memory of yours helps me fathom the love you owned…the love you shared with me and only me. Your enchanting laughter and smile made me a complete whole. And then again, there were those heart rending tears that left me un-restful. Those tears were much small when I look at the irreparable damage that time played on to me…your loss that I had to bear…distressing to the discerning eyes. Time was the only enemy that stood between us…that limited your love. If I had a wish, I’d stop the time freeze the moment while you were laying on your bed…sleeping a sleep where not even my tears and love could touch you. But I now fondly laugh at the thought with a weeping note because now I know, if I did that, I’d be blocking you from your ascend to heaven from your purgatory.

Your loss has taught me one lesson that I never longed to learn…the very feeling of MOVE ON that sends a chill down my spine. MOVE ON! you teach me…but how can I when you’re not there to see me succeed…support me when I fall down…hold me close and then say with a tender smile, GO ON!

Ever since I lost you, I lost a part of myself. Now I believe that we all have to wish our loved ones a last farewell…and now I believe that we all are mortals. These words never can express how much I love you…miss you except my tears and thoughts that wanders at your memory, and yet blown away by the subtle wind that desserts me.

The grief of your loss is an unforgettable part of my life which will always linger in my memory with some drops of tears. After the rain, there always is the clear blue sky. So I now smile, acknowledge and accept your lesson to MOVE ON and really move on.
I now take life as a river, your memory, the wind that blows gently and at times howling. The words are poor to express my love to you…to express how much I love you mom.

Prologue

The sense of effort that comforts the departure not always is the bewilderment, but the memories of that vision, and the aching of your heart that longs for their presence when they are apart. It always is amazing to know how quickly time flows. The memories once so memorable to us will along with time probably fade away, if not completely washed out. With it, those painful moments are no different because they are the ones we first wish to erase from our minds and hearts. The weeds of the desert lives on, but the flower of spring blooms on, or so they say. Yes. The flowers of spring blooms on, and these are my flowers of spring and those of autumn, which have not forgotten to bloom, neither to wither.

It was the beginning of the year 2006 and the end of 2007 that changed my destiny…my future, and made me who I now am. The memories of the very year cast its aroma and spellbound me as I remember them. And yet, those fragrance fades away with the turbulence that had raised in the ocean…the very turbulence which I never thought could destine and shape my future forever.

It was the first day of my high school. As a freshman, I had lots of dreams and hopes that I carried along until the violent turbulence started causing devastation in my life. Those irreparable damages that I would have to live forever.
(of a novel I’m trying to write.)

Ocean Rage

And yet when memories of yours fill my mind, the waves of ocean strike the cliffs with its massive strength causing a violent turbulence. Yet, how long is it to last? So, it goes as it came causing a mere feeling of as if nothing had ever happened before by restoring tranquillity in the air dismissing the little waves below that are still left to restore a complete harmony. The striking waves that causes the impact on the cliff never forgets to break a portion of it and carry it along as it goes. Yet, people fondly look at those cuts caused by the waves so as to admire its beauty and fail to realize its complete whole.

The waves come and go in their ever unchanging circle of violence to tranquillity causing the cliffs to break portion by portion resulting to a question about its existence. The fury of the tempest and the rage of the ocean waves cause distress to the cliff, and yet it remains silent. But for how long? So, it cries its pain as those waves strike its chest in voices of sloshing, never to be understood by humans, yet mistaken for its magnificent melody! And with the ever hurting waves gone for a moment, it rests with its unrest mind looking forward for the next strike for it can do nothing but to weep again, and yet again people fondly mistaken it for the melody of oceans.

Every cuts and cracks and scars has its own story to tell if only it were to be told. The rage of the ocean and the chest of the cliffs, are no different. Yet, they resemble the unsung heroes of war whose bravery is far away from the acknowledgement of the distant maddening crowd…never to be told…nor to be heard. With the fading rage of the ocean, and the end of the violent turbulence, I rest my head and dream to a nomads land. There I imagine what would it be like if we were not to be in these circumstances, resulting to the very catch 22 situation of unchanging circle of violence to tranquillity.

Time Factor

Ever since “time” had been conceived by the human race, it has always been a barrier between our dreams and limitations. Time with its unkind flow is the most painful and bitter experience that a human bears apart from death. To put it more simply, time is the king of everything…including death…that is feared by all. The passing seconds, minutes, hours, days, months and years are its very symbols that is feared by all, and suffered by few in the form of deaths, disaster or crisis.

All of us are the victims of incessant time that has limited our dreams and exhorted us to accept the reality. The time factor is, by all means the most discerned thing we have been put through in spite of our unwillingness. That is why we dream where we could beat time…dream where we are the almighty, and where time is the un-spared culprit for killing humans!

The homo sapiens is believed to be the most powerful existing creature of the world. But, how are we to define ourselves as the most powerful when we are an ant in front of time? In the course of our development along with time, we have invented almost everything that could ease our companions. We’ve brought into existence those massive buildings and bridges, and remarkable technologies unimagined by our forefathers. We’ve developed scientific theories from E=mc2 to the quantum theory, and yet we’ve not developed any theories to beat time. We’ve stepped into the moon, and mars; those distant planets. Yet, we haven’t been able enough to step a foot on the time factor. If only we were able enough to wage “War against Time” like that of terror, every nations of the world would pass their bills in full agreement! Then could we possibly call ourselves the “most powerful” existing creatures of the world.
A War against Time could be possible because there is so much hidden in nature…so much we still have to learn about. We, the energy gobbling creatures lack and will lack the python’s patience, the snake’s power to feel the earth’s vibration, and the falcon’s speed all by ourselves. The time factor with its immense strength captivates us making us proffer its power by will or by force! And, until and unless we have the capability to beat time, we have; to me no right to claim ourselves as the most powerful existing creatures of the world because that is the greatest enemy we have to fear from…with no hope of winning!

A Note

After the resilience of pain and sorrow, the sweet melancholy of happiness rests in my heart with tranquility on my mind. The relentless days that I had once spent with affliction and thus longed for peace has now come as a subtle surprise of the wind. Days no longer refer to those escapist attitudes but rather to the “down to earth” attitudes where we ere to look forward…no matter what be the consequence, and how hard or merry the day be. This was when I realized that happiness is always in the journey, and not in the end.

A year has passed since I’ve been writing poems. It’s amazing and wonderful to recall my memories as an emerging poet. In this journey, I’ve evolved through yellow tissue papers, small single torn pages of which a few are lost, and most remain, last pages of my school notebooks, promoted to middle pages, and finally shifted to a personal notebook. Throughout my evolution, I’ve written terrible poems, good poems, and a few really good poems that I feel proud of like “Versed Trial” and “The Great Gatsby’s Song.” I’m also glad that one night, I wrote “Python’s Patience” that gave birth to “Fair Lady”, an illusion of an angel in the form of a mortal being; eyed by all. The lady exists in many of my poems and will continue to do so because I have created her and given her life through my poems. In return, she has helped me bring “girl” emotions in my poems; that I lacked. Originally, I thought of calling Fair Lady as “Damsel in Dust,” but because it was long and sounded odd in the poem, I wrote Fair Lady, and in sheer joy I cried BINGO!

A year is a long journey, 365 days, 53 weeks, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes and 31536000 seconds. Throughout it, I’ve seen myself evolve to a better mark every day, to better poems every time I’ve wrote them down. In this time, I’ve felt and experienced pain, sorrow, loss, tears, love, friendship, and joys that were to last, but were euphoria, farewells, regrets, and so on. I’ve experienced best bonds turn fragile, and back to somewhat normal, and frail threads replaced by utter silence. The year had been very turbulent, I’d say…the silent ocean raised in rage and slowly calmed down. I wonder at times if it had been those very turbulent times that compelled me to write poems, and I fondly yet again wonder if the poems came as angels…as an outlet and shield to drain my loneliness. Whatever it be, I’m grateful to all the tears, joy, love, friendship because those elements helped me be a poet.

Aristotle says, ‘people become poets when they fall in love,’ and that’s how I probably became one. I could have fallen in love, or had a mere illusion of it’s existence. I’d best not stick to one. Whatever it be, it was great, and I will always cherish the moment. Love is a game of hearts. It is what people cherish throughout their life and wish to endure for the time immortal. Love is an impregnable bond of hope, trust, joy, and strength to cope through down times. Love can’t be measured with the depth of the seas, nor can it be measured with the height of the Everest. It only can be measured with the tears and laughter…with the beats of heart that pounds to hear that special name…

Fair Lady, I wonder who you are, but you will always inspire my poems, live in it, and give life to them; although I created you…