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Showing posts from July, 2019

Dead Roses and Dead Soul

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Dead Roses and Dead Soul No one saw his major loss


Every morning 
walking up to miles
he collects roses
with the hope
he can give them to her one day Every afternoon
forgetting disappointments
he collects hope
with the dream 
she will be with him one day Even by the end of the day,
those fading roses on his desk
and depressed soul within him,
both continue to live
with a desire of reconciliation someday Times changed
but she didn’t. His soul continues to breathe
he sprays water to roses
hoping neither of them dies
hoping they both live for one more day
where they can hope for one more. She never came back
she decided she won’t. Roses withered and died
his soul grieved and died.
He buried roses and his soul
with no hope of a further journey
with no desire for tomorrow. All saw dead roses
being sorry for its loss
but the dead soul within him
no one cared to search
and remained invisible forever. Suraj Ghimire 2020 This poem was first posted on https://medium.com/storymake

The dark side of Bangladeshi Immigrants in Qatar.

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This aspect of the Immigrant workers working in the Gulf has always been vividly known, yet unspoken. As a storyteller within me longs to speak about their life, I write this post specifically dedicated to people from Bangladesh. There are also Nepalese and Indian who have suffered, but it's the Bangladeshi who has suffered most. I wish there were any human rights and civil society speaking about this, but No, it has hardly been spoken, let alone addressed. And it appears this way is set to continue for a long time. Kindly help this spread by sharing and liking. I shall appreciate your comments/feedback
Further reading at Medium
Kindly be free to drop your comments in this post.
If you are on Medium, be free to clap and follow me.


The sacrifice of perfidy soul

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Re-Posting this from an old post of Mouthshut.com

The Valentine season is on. This has set itself as a modern tradition among the urban area of South Asia (primarily India and Nepal) and its youth. There are people for whom this season matters more than any other festival while there are people who ignore its existence. During all these years, I have seen many love-birds growing and sometimes even departing from each other, but there is one story which had remained as an unsolved mystery for many of my friends and has deeply touched my heart in the final year of graduation college in Mumbai.

Simran(Name changed) is one among the good looking Gujarati girl in our College. She was well known not only for her beauty but also for her talent and her breathtaking anchoring during college festival. Her presence in many college-level activities had increased her stardom. In the first and second year of college, she used to be seen mostly with her limited group in our class; specifically wit…

Fall Begins the Journey

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Let the fall begin

Date:- 25th March 2016



Prequel:- A lady whom I had severely loved had blocked me because of the situation. She initiated the conversation herself after a few months. I was so happy being on cloud nine. I thought this was the day I got her in my life. But then...

Facebook  Conversation with my college Junior (and Sister) Sampurna.


Suraj:- Do you know, two years back on the same day, I found her again. And when she came back, she began as if she has come for forever...

Sampurna:- But then she went again for forever.

Suraj:- Believe me, that was one of the most beautiful parts of my life.

Sampurna:- Till the most beautiful part of our life come again.

Suraj:- Amen. That is the reason, even though love excites my literature so much, I have not searched or looked for anyone in the last two years, or maybe I have not found someone I wish to see. perhaps I have not found anyone like her.

Sampurna:- This means she never went anywhere. This means She was your life and the central…

Private Education: Necessity or Obligation?

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This is my first published article in any of the national daily newspaper. Here I talk about my childhood where we had difficulties in paying fees for boarding school. This is in Nepali medium.

Clicking the link will take you to an external link of the newspaper site. I appreciate your feedback.

Published date:- 10th July 2018   २०७६ असार २५ बुधबार
Newspaper:- Naya Patrika, Kathmandu, Nepal

बाध्यताको अर्को नाम निजी विद्यालय
https://nayapatrikadaily.com/news-details/19354/2019-07-10


What if She resembles me?

When he comes across a soul, similar to the one he wanted to meet since ages, he is hesitant in moving a step forward. Though omen and signs are as if she is the one, he is still hesitant in moving a step forward. A war of thoughts between himself, asking himself what if she is just not a co-incidence? 
What if She resembles me?
Maybe She is just an imaginary,
This is what I always thought
Out of my creation, through poems
and through many stories I penned
There was 'She', the only one
The one I used to write, the one I had sketched!

In those dim appearance, faded, unclear
From my imagination, till dreams
In lowest visibility, I memorized her
I captured the one I wanted to meet
There was my Beloved, the only one
The one I used to hear, The one I had talked!

Maybe she is one to have never existed
I said to myself, I consoled myself
Hoping she will come from somewhere
To read what all I had written till now
There will be 'She' in the coming future,
The one I used to imagine, The one I not…

Poem: What If?

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He had almost given up in the definition of Love, and that's why he also had given up on his writing. He didn't want to express his thought out but somewhere deep within him, he wanted to write about his imagination and show that sketch to rest of the world. Who else other than his story girl? Trying to find her in the random faces he meets every day, in a deep conversation with her, he asks what if he writes her one more time? 

Posting one of my creation which I penned almost three years back. 






What if I write you one more time? What if I read you one more time?  What if removing all barriers and hurdles I reach you to be for you one more time?
What if I don't care about my dignity? What if I let down myself one more time? What if looking at just you, my love I travel all way to hold you, one more time.
Your breath-taking smiles, wink & echoic voice Your presence that manipulates my heartbeats What if forgetting hard corner we once created I ask to let me experience you, one more …

“My father and I, In the midst of modern slavery”.

A man, in love, has a dream. The dream to witness every bit of smile of the woman he loves. If he is blessed enough, he would be able to experience them in their days of togetherness. Her smile, her tears and every bit of her emotions would mean so much to her. He can hold his hands in every one of her good days, if they are faithful enough, even in most of her bad days, during pain, stress and so many else.  Might be at times he would want to know how her childhood was. Their bond of love might lead her to share most part of her childhood with him but what if he wants to know those words that she never expressed? What if he would want to witness a real her, her smile and every other tiny thing. As a husband myself, I can imagine how important would those days be. I often say to her, I would be seeing you again through our daughter. Looking at our daughter grow is how she can be revisited again. 
With those above queries answered, in the last few years I have been having another thoug…