That birthday gift

Dad’s birthday is coming and I was wondering what I should gift him? But then I recalled this gift I’d given him as a kid which I believe is something he’ll forever cherish. It certainly is something my family cherishes forever.

As a kid, my dad used to hang out a lot with his friends. They had a crib in Jyatha, a place close to Thamel where I’d often end up after school. I’d be watching action reality shows such as Fear Factor and Who Dares Wins on tape or playing uncle Yoshida’s Gameboy Color in the Japanese uncle’s apartment. Dad and his friends would be playing Mahjong, drinking beer or strong coffee, smoking cigarettes and a bamboo hookah while I’d be stuffing myself with unlimited Japanese candy. In a way, I liked his company even though it was dangerous because there used to be an actual handgun in the room which was so heavy I couldn’t carry even by using both hands (it did not have the magazine and no one ever got shot). So well, I’m just giving you a gist of what it was like.

The other hangout was this place called Hot Pot, a restaurant in Thamel. Dad and co. would often go there and gig on a normal night. But I don’t think dad went there after a while because I remember that most of the time, the ground floor of my house used to my dad’s pack of wolves’ favourite domain. They’d come to my house and bring me Chicken Crackers and Frooti. I’d munch on the snacks and play computer games (Mario, GTA2, Outlaw, Jedi Night, Road Rash, Timon and Pumba …) while the company would have their good time. Mom used to be upset about his dad’s friends hanging out while I was in the room because there were often times when uncles would bring tobacco and roll on paper, and smoke till the tobacco ran out. In fact, my mom hated that dad was smoking while I was in the room but it went on for quite some time; years, I mean.

So one day I’m at school and my teachers tell me that smoking is bad. Though I did not know how bad, I knew that my dad had a bad habit. Because he was my dad, I thought he was Superman and he could do nothing wrong, but I realised that I had to make him kick his habit (probably because mom was angry about it too). One day after school, I took out my GK book which had two small pictures of a no smoking sign and posted it in the room my dad and his friends would hang out. I did it impulsively without thinking too much on his birthday. I don’t remember his expression or what he told me or exactly when he stopped smoking but I know that things changed after that. He did quit smoking. After a while, he limited on his drinking and now he’s straight edge (drinks rarely though. I think. Don’t remember the last time he held beer). When I was a kid, he was a chain smoker who smoked way too much and I can only remember it in flashes because now it’s been way too long (at least 15 years) since I last saw him take one. Perhaps it’s because he was able to get rid of this habits that I could kick out a lot of my bad habits.

Dad’s always been an inspiration and he’s taught me so many things which make me different. Maybe I didn’t inherit the electric, table tennis or cooking skills that he has, but, well, I think it’s not the blueprint but the recipe of working things out that I’ve inherited. He’s the most awesome person I know and I’m proud that I have the most awesome dad.

P.S. Happy birthday pops.

The Macbook Story

I know you won’t bother asking me why I bought this second hand Macbook for such a high price and call me stupid even before I try to explain, but it’s okay and I totally understand.

If you’re a Nepali you will understand the price. I bought a second hand Macbook Air for 1 while I could have ordered an another brother of mine coming to Nepal from the US  to bring a new one to me for 1.25, but I didn’t. I’ll tell you why. The brother from whom I bought this Macbook is someone I care for and thats why. He’s had small jobs for quite some time and now he has a son with no solid earning foundation.

He had told me he had plans to open a clothing store but he had no money. I know I’m the decades younger brother here, but I knew I could help him by buying his Macbook which is only a luxury for him, so I bought it at a high price because he needed that money. I care about my brother and thats why I bought it. He’s been there for me in some of my most memorable moments as a kid so yes, why not give him a heads up to start his business. He’s doing fine now. He opened a shop as he had planned. It’s a cute little shop which he opened by partnering with one his friends in Naya Bazar, and its in walking distance. Honestly speaking, I don’t visit him s much because I’m usually busy but I know the business is doing good. It’s still new and more people are still trying to locate the place but its cool.

I don’t know if he knows what I’ve done for him but he is grateful that I could provide him some extra funds to open his shop. He’s my brother and we’re connected by blood, we don’t say we love each other, we show.

Goa head, make somebody life. I try it to do it everyday.


“We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for I don’t know.”

I’m just an ordinary man trying to find a way to make this world a better place. As for making my world a better place, I’ve got my angels.

In trying to find the meaning of life, I’ve figured out that materialism is the things that least work out. The purpose of my life is to make this world a better place which is home to everyone living and dead; animal and plants; friends and foes; family and stranger. I don’t have a lot of friends, but those here with me are worth keeping close to myself.

Some simply tell me I write well when it’s horse-shit. Some simply like my tweets. Some stay by my side when I’m deeply broken inside. Some smile and make tea for me. Some pull me by the arms to take a selfie. Some simply give me a call. Some bring me gifts every time we meet after a long time. Some change the playlist when I’m around to play the songs I like. Some care about mother nature. Some enlighten me with their words. Some motivate me. Some are simply nice. Some simply write poems to brighten up my day. Some simply say it’s okay. Some say it’s time for me to go to bed and say goodnight. They can just exist and make me smile.

They simply care.

They’re close to me and they’re far. Some I’ve seen and some I don’t know when I’ll meet. They’re not there for me every time, but they’re there for me when I need them to be. They’re selfless and they listen. They make a normal day extraordinary. They show me that love is all you need.

Talking about assholes, it’s best not to be one. There’s no place for selfish people.

Try to make a difference, try to be the difference. Make this world a better place for you, me and everyone sharing the world as it is. Be human and become somebody’s angel. Share your stories and give them hope. Be honest and polite. Be good and be yourself. Make their day because true happiness presents itself when you share.

Let them know that they’ve made the difference.

Picture by Jonathan Kos-Read via @flickr

The graduation story

Until yesterday afternoon, I was thinking of not attending my own graduation ceremony. I have reasonable answers to the whys.

For me, this graduation ceremony isn’t very special. It would have meant more to me if I’d liked college, the time spent there; the three years. It’s not a place where I could call it home. There are not many memorable moments associated with it. I had some awesome group of friends, but all these moments of glory happened outside of the college. The educational institution could never keep me satisfied, especially cause it did not live up to the standards I’d expected.

We were told lies, one after another. These charade words did not even affect them too much. These lies ranged from the total cost of the education to the quality of education. I do not question the qualification of the lecturers, but they certainly didn’t make good teachers. I felt cheated and honestly didn’t learn much from the institution. All I was doing was printing long pages of my assignment, studying for the exams and not surfacing stuff that would get me interested. For me, I achieved a degree of education, not knowledge.

I am not proud of my degree and not content even when I know that a degree in computing has good scoped for employment in the future. So I told my mom that I did not want to attend the ceremony of these people who are just capitalists and only drenching money for the last time, but I came to know of things left unsaid.

Mother seems to be more excited about me graduating than I was. For me, the degree is all but a piece of paper that makes life a little easier. For my mother, it means a little more. It means her son has completed the hurdles of the general system, at an age 10 years before she accomplished herself. It kind of left me in a sad state to see my mother infuriated of my hesitation to attend the ceremony. If I had felt connected to my college, friends and teachers like my alma mater, I would not have thought so, but the plot came to an amazing twist.

The next morning my mother’s sister came to me and said things that would instantly change the way I see education. We live in a society where we accept everyone’s effort to make a daily life. The cobbler fixes my shoe, the milkman brings milk for me and I make websites and systems for people to use in their personal life or business. We all live like different elements in nature co-existing with each other, always transforming, making bonds, combining, splitting up and creating life. Though I would like to revolt against the system, this ceremony was more than just about me.

My mother dreams of getting a photograph of me with that hat, scarf, and cloak with a big fat smile. She wants to hang a picture like everyone else in my family has at home. I never thought about it. It still isn’t something that I really want, but it’s something that would make my mother happy. If she’s happy, I’m happy. Kapish. My aunts and uncles have traveled all the way from Nepal to countries mostly like Australia and The United States of America, flying over an entire ocean to see their sons and daughters graduate while I was refusing to attend it. Like a warm reception, it’s just a pleasant goodbye.

To be honest, it can only be a glorious moment. Most (not all) of my friends who have graduated will be there. My parents will be there to see the ceremony and it is yet another milestone of my career, earning a bachelor’s degree B.Sc (Hons) in Computing at the age of 20. I’ll be seeing my friends parents as well and perhaps my mom and dad could meet some of their old friends and relatives too and share a laugh maybe.

Happiness is contagious. Share the laugh.

The part that made me sob while I saw my mom smile is yet to come. I know for a fact that my mother has an educational degree herself, but I have never seen a picture of her graduation. As my aunt recalls, it was my fault. At the time when my mom had her graduation ceremony, I was born. I was the reason my mother could not attend her graduation ceremony. I feel sad about it, but I know that my entry to this world meant more to her than missing out on celebrating her graduation. As for me, I’ve come to different conclusions.

The reason my eyes are wet is because this is not the first time that my mother has sacrificed something for me. She has sacrificed for me countless times. She has been there taking care of me ever since I was born and till this day, cooking pretty much every meal, washing clothes, paying the internet bills, getting me a laptop, a scooter, paying for my school fees, taking me to hospital after an accident, calling me every day when I haven’t reached home after sunset and this list is endless; you name it.

So I’ll try and be not so emotional about it and I have a brilliant idea. Mom and I are going to a photo concern this Saturday to click a photo of her in a gown with a certificate in her hand, 20 years after her graduation. I would like to see a picture of my mother who graduated as well. The interesting thing is that I’ll get to tell people that my mother and I wore the same gown while we graduated. This is so emotional for me, but I’m happy; almost exploding with emotion.

Oh, how wonderful life is, full of stories and surprises. It’s never too late to raise a smile. 🙂