Stories By 'Sanjit Bhakta Pradhananga'
There are those that describe Tundikhel as Kathmandu’s lungs. In a city that is swallowing itself whole, Tundikhel is one of the last surviving large public spaces in its inner core.
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At their small office overlooking Kasthamandap, a group of young volunteers for the Campaign to Rebuild Kasthamandap are huddled in a circle, discussing the flurry of events that have taken place at the seventh century monument this week.
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By the time I huff and haul my way up Swoyambhu, the Gyanmala Bhajan Khaala is just about wrapping up their morning session.
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Last week, following a characteristically long, and occasionally barbed, tirade by KP Sharma Oli and a conspicuously short cameo by Sher Bahadur Deuba in the Parliament, Pushpa Kamal Dahal walked up to the pulpit and began his speech by admitting he was unsure about how long his own address should be, given the two starkly different precedents.
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I know you remember that morning as vividly as I do. It was my fourteenth birthday and I woke up to the horror of my dad standing over my bed, whispering, “Jyanmara le sabbai lai sidhyayo.” That murderer finished them all.
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Why Patan has just one chariot festival might not be a question that has tickled your fancy before. Yet, once stirred, why the City of Arts has just the elaborate festival for the Bungdyo is not a question that is easily shaken off.
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