One brilliant IDEA, "The Guest Writer." The thought had passed my mind, but I let it pass one too many times. But there are exceptions. This time its my cousin (family before all) who came up with this "I empathize with you" worthy post. But that's not all. I am sharing this because it brought back memories I knew I had been missing all along. So here it is for your reading pleasure. My advice - find your 'disc' pencil and let your dream soar high up (and beyond).

Aastha Shrestha

THAT PENCIL...

     Yesterday I was taking the trash out of my room and something caught my eye in the dustbin, a small, white 'disc' pencil. It took me back to when it all started, my dream of being a writer someday. I took it out from there, with a smile on my face and a heart filled with immense joy and frustration how childhood dreams slowly faded away like the faint vanilla smell of my favorite candles..

     I remember being as passionate about reading as I was about writing or dancing.

     It is surprising how that little pencil made me want to be that child again, that girl with those wide shiny eyes, who was always looking for another book she wanted to read, her favourite pencil packed in her bag along with a spiral notepad, wearing her dancing shoes and her dance moves always ready in her head..

     It sure is a funny feeling when all that you ever thought you would do when you grow up don't match your reality and you name it your hobbies now.

     As you see a child now, their little eyes never stop shining.. And their little hands never stop pointing at things that catches their eyes..

     They're always wishing for a future they may or may not be a part of.. 

     And even though circumstances didn't allow us to be who we dreamt, people like you and me should still make sure they dream.. 

     As for me, little things like that pencil will continue to light the long-lost fire in my 'eager but passionless' eyes.

They'll always leave me thinking.
May be..
I'll always be that 'little girl' in the back of my mind..

- Aastha Shrestha.

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The Beautiful End.

     If I am a Romeo then Shanghai would be my Juliet. This however is not an ode to the city that I love. Past 6 years have been a precious chapter of my life - but things end. And quite sadly even the good things do. Last month I went through goodbye of multitude so high that it left a lump in my heart. Now in Kathmandu, the other city I looovvveee, I have all the time in the world to reflect upon the fairy tale like 6 years that I spent in Shanghai. Like every good story have some heroes, mine had some too. It was particularly hard to say goodbye to those. Among the stars in my life they will forever shine the brightest. So this is for them. Not for Shanghai, not for Kathmandu but only for them.

The end...

The beginning...

Perhaps this is the end,

Or the new beginning is it?

They say nothing comes with guarantees,

but right this moment as I write and pause

my beating heart loves you-

like a friend, a brother and a family.

Loves you,

like the only way I should.

And oh'dear - moments makes life.

And I dedicate this moment to you.

And how do I put it short and sweet?

Let's just say-

One day when you are in the crowded room-

full of strangers.

And you need a friend,

I will smile from across the room-

for you - Just for you.

<3
(7th July - 2013)

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Such different lives we live.

(turns the radio on)
I fiddle the knob of the radio.
Roam the dial for the distant sounds -
on the short and long wavelengths.
Stretch the antenna,
that towers high above my head.
Strange whispering.
Hiss and Hoosh.
Rising of the ocean.
Falling of a distant tree.
Dit dit and Dot dot.
Monks chanting vespers.
Booming of a Big Ben.
Lovers kissing.
Kingdoms falling.
Children laughing their heart's content.
Woes of mother over her dead child.
Bullets, bombs and missiles.
Stories.
Voices.
Songs.
Plays.
BBC.
Life...

Such different lives we live.
Wish I could live them all.
(turns the radio off)
#shyless

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