Who’s afraid of the dark? Or rather who does not have the fear of facing the star-lit night, staring at them in deafening silence in the midst of their utter loneliness? The breeze caressing one’s shin like a cat brushing past with its fluffy tail, the wind howling, two shiny eyes fixing a gaze on you.
This week, the government imposed restrictions on non-governmental agencies and private individuals from dispensing relief materials to those affected by the floods that have inundated large ports of the Tarai without coordination with the authorities.
Even a river flows backwards once every twelve years,” says Parbati Rajak, a 41-year-old tea shop operator in Hatkhola, Biratnagar, quoting a Nepali adage on resilience, “So, is there any option but to pick ourselves up and try to restart all over again?”
Almost a week since the floods, the water levels in affected districts have been gradually receding. In the past one week, 35 districts were affected, displacing more than 18,300 families, and affecting at least 75,000 families.
How do you go about striking a conversation with a total stranger without sounding like a creep? Imagine the stranger is elegant, composed and beautiful, one who immediately strikes your fancy and then captures the better part of your mind.
Rajendra Parajuli, whose collection of short stories—Shukraraj Shashtri ko Chasma—has been nominated for this year’s Madan Puraskar, has four story collections, one poetry anthology and a novel to his name. Parajuli,