THE GIFT OF LOVE

The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young women with the white cane made her way carefully up the steps. She paid the driver and, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, found the seat he'd told her was empty. It had been a year since Kaya, thirty-four, became blind. Once a fiercely independent women, kaya now felt condemned by this terrible twist of fate to become a helpless burden on every one around her. Just getting through each day was an exercise in frustration and exhaustion. And all she had to cling to was her husband Reenik. Reenik was Air Force officer and he loved Kaya with all of his heart. When she first lost her sight, he watched her sink in to despair and was determined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she needed to become independent again. Reenik's military background had trained him well to deal with sensitive situations, and yet he knew this was the most difficult battle he would ever face. Finally, Kaya felt ready to retun to her job, but how would she get there? She used to take the bus, but was now too frighetend to get around the city by herself. Reenik volunteeted to drive her to work each day, but soon realized that this arrangement wasn't working. But just the thought of mentioning it to her made him cringe. Just as Reenik predicted, kaya was horrified at the idea of taiking the bus again. I'm blind!" she responded bitterly. "How am i supposed to know where i'm going? I feel like you're abandoning me". Reenik's heart broke to hear these words but he knew what had to be done. He promised Kaya that each morning and evening he would ride the bus with her, for as long as it took, untile she got the hange of it. For two solid weeks, he accompanied Kaya to and from work each day. He taught her how to rely on her others senses, specificially her hearing, to adapt to her new environment. Each morning they made the journey together, and Reenik would take a cab back to his office. Althought this routine was even more costly and exhausting than the previous one it was worth it. Finally, Kaya decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and before she left she threw her arms around Reenik, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her best friend. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his patience, his love Kaya had never felt beeter. She was going to work all bye herself! On Friday morning, Kaya took the bus to work as usual. As she was paying for her fare to exit the bus, the driver said,"Boy i sure envy you." Curious she asked "why do you say that?" The driver responded, "it must feel so good to be taken care of and protected like you are." Kaya had no idea what the driver was talking about, and asked again, " What do you mean?" The driver answered, "you know, every morning for the past week, a gentlemena in a military uniform has been standing across the corner watching you when you get off the bus. He makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches you until you enter your office building. Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute and walks away. You are one lucky lady." Tears of happiness poured down Kaya's cheeks. She was lucky, so lucky for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn't need to see to belive. THE GIFT OF LOVE that can bring light where there had been darkness. Beauty is not caused. It is.(E. Dickinson)

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CHOCOHOLICS DELIGHT

Chocolate is eternally associated with romance, and for good reason. Both Mayans and Aztecs adopted it as aphrodisiac over 1,500 years ago, believing that it gave men stamina and made women less inhibited(Temperar Montezuma; who had a 600 strong harem, glugged 50 golden globlets of chocolate a day to enhance his sexual power). Now wonder that, when Spanish conquistador introduced chocolate to Europe and beyond, its reputation as the food of passion gathered pace. Casano called hot chocolate" The elixir of love" and consumed vast quantities of it before frolicking with his conquest. Napoleon was also a big far. Why he drant so much chocolate, he replied" to start with, it's just good". Florence Nightingale and others from poets to presidents, also believed chocolate to be an essential ingredient of health care and there are some scientific evidence to support this. Beside from its energy giving properties chocolate contains two mood-lifting agents, rather uncomantically known as phenylethyline and serotonine, both of which occur naturally in the human brain and are released in to the nervous system when we are happy or feeling amorous. It's no surprise that women are believed to be more susceptible to the effects of these chemicals than men, which may be why they tend to be greatest lover of chocolate. Anyone looking forward to a large box of silky seductive, smooth and sensual chocolate this Valentine's Day will appreciate the following story about a man who found a magic lamp. Granted one wish by a genie, he asked to be made to all women... The genie turned him in to a box of chocolates. Nothing unite people like chocolate. Whether sharing a bag of maltase, kisses or debating the cost of the perfect Belgian truffle, everyone has their own opinion on the sweet stuff. There are just a few thoughts, from the great and good, on the wonder of chocolate. Biochemically, love is just like eating a large amounts of chocolate.(John, Milton, The Devils). Nine out of ten people like chocolate the tenth person always lies.(John Q Tullius).

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THE BLACK BEAUTY NEPALI IN TROUBLE

Everyone,step aside! The 'Black Beast' is here. This is what Jake always said when she entered the classroom. She would then burst in to tears and run to the last seat. Sandra wasn't abnormal but her skin was not as fair as snow whites. In fact, she seemed to be gifted with extra darkness by the god to make her look like a black beauty but it was sad that none in her class and even in the whole school saw her beauty. All they saw was the black part. Sandra wasn't a very intelligent girl, failing in at least two subjects per exam wasn't anything new to her. She did have a lot of interest in ballet and singing but she didn't seem to be an expert in these. Apart all, it is not necessary to be perfect at something that interests us. One day when Sandra was studying "Jane Eyre" at her room, she heard a whisper. It was her mother. "Honey! What can we do if our girl isn't that smart? Of course! We want her to have a future but this is just not the right way to it. She's our only daughter and if she doesn't do good to herself, it doesn't do any good to us either." all of a sudden, Sandra felt a huge pressure on her. Something very strong was trying to make her kneel. She walked towards the mirror, looked at it and felt the tides of words blowing towards her with all their strength. What her mother had said continued to echo within her. She remembered," black beast, know nothing, dull, idiot, stupid, that all i am. That's all!" Tring Tring!",rang the phone. It was Chelsea, her best friend calling her. "Sandra! What you did today was not right. You shouldn't have told the teacher about Jake cheating in the exams. That hurt me as well. Er.....Sandra! I think this is it. You don't seem to follow the norms of our friendship. So, i guess will have to end it here. You see, this friendship of ours, um....may be its time we put an end to it. " Sandra dropped her phone and looked completely frozen. She again started to shade tears but this time, involuntarily. Now it seemed to Sandra that everything was over. She remembered her mother's voice, Jake laughing at her and Chelsea's brutal words. She was now out of her own control and she started wandering about in her room like a furious wolf. She hit herself in her cheeks and hit her head with a bang with the same Jane Eyre. She saw her little teddy at her bed. She tore it apart and threw it away. She looked like a maniac. She then sat by her bed with her both hair and her room messed up. She could hardly figure out how she was feeling. She was disappointed, desperate, exhausted and seemed to have run out of mind. After about fifteen minutes, she calmed herself, got up and walked to the door. On her way, she saw the picture of her cousin Robert. Robert was the topper of his school and was extremely determined to be cardiologist. He had set up an example in the family. Seeing Robert's picture, Sandra again lost her mind and got unconscious. She ran towards the balcony. There she gave a loud scream and cried. She cried and cried and cried for a more than a hour and came back to her room, washed her face and sat back to read Jane Eyre again.

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I Cry around the streets

I ponder throughout the World with my two little eyes and what i see is only the wall of Differences. Differences in what case? It's just a smile, happiness in one's face and tears, sorrows in the other. Truly, i'm very emotional person. I can't ignore the pains of human life. Who don't want to live his/her life with a complete satisfaction? I assume that 99.9% people want to have standard life and there are very few of them who want to sacrifice their life for others. When i come out of my happy life and see around, i see the sorrows of people hovering round them. I get hopeless and even stunned thinking that why is it so? Why is it so that one is enjoying the Chicken Roast and the other is dying to eat even the Thrown bone? When one is fully satisfied, he/she is happy but what about those who is still searching source of happiness? I see children begging for a rupee at the street, helpless people joining their hands for food, helpless mother cursing herself for not be able to feed her child, instead of pens and books children are seen with selling materials, so that they can earn a little and buy food. This is very miserable. Those children who sell the products hope for money, but what if they can't sell as they have hoped? What will they eat? How will they survive? These questions plays inside my mind. Being a student, i feel like helping them a lot more but i am spoon fed too. But i still help them as much as i can. Those pitiful scenes really pinches my heart and feel like crying for those people. Though tears do not run down my eyes, my heart cries and i wonder that one day this is going to change. I dream that one day those tears will for ocean of happiness and satisfaction. I do hope that my dream will come true.

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Give me life,i need to survive.

Human beings and the natural world are on a collision course. Human activities inflict harsh and often irreversible damage on the environment and on critical resources. If not checked, many of our current practices put at serious risk the future that we wish for human society and the plant and animal kingdoms, and may so alter the living world that it will be unable to sustain life in the manner that we work. Fundamental changes are urgent if we are to avoid the collision our present course will bring about. The future of our planet is in the balance. Sustainable development can be achieved, but only if irreversible degradation of the environment can be halted in time. The coming years may be crucial. A lots problems will be seen and me myself would not be there to see these all. Human sperm counts in many localities are worrisome low. Many of us suffer from premature hearing loss traceable to excessive noise. We are surrounded by signs of global environmental decline. Every hour we add 10,000 people to our numbers, acting as if there are no such things as carrying capacity and future generations; as if we have learned nothing from the environment failures of earlier civilization. We squander numberless resources unsustainable, acting as if each and every resource is replaceable. We continue to produce plutonium and other long lived poisons, even though we know that nothing on earth can be safely sequestered for millennial. Many similar approaches are available. We can, if we want, have fewer people and more trees. We know that this can be done. We know how it can be done. We know that it ought to be done for our sake, for the sake of our children, and for the shake of other creatures who share this planet with us. What we are still lacking is the wisdom, courage, and compassion to convert this knowledge in to reality. That is why i need of life and i need to survive.

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I need of shadow as my love is

That was at the beginning of spring. I spent the whole summer of the Kathmandu without break, and had no time even to think of the family, but the memory of the fair-haired girl remained in my mind all those months; I did not think of her, but it was though her shadow were lying lightly on my soul. I saw a young girl, beautiful, kind, intelligent, fascinating, such a girl as i had never met before in a dream. Luckily or not, there is nothing in our lives that does not come to an end sooner or later. The time came when we had to part. Meanwhile the days were passing. Me myself don't know, how i get her numbers, but it was some interesting when i was phoned first time. I was excited and some nervous. I got good respect that i never forget in the apart of life. She cried over me as she had gone to eat me. Meanwhile the days were passing her mind was changed and she was interested to know me.we were become a friend. I do not know how the love is born. We were saw a lots of dream and promise to be a friend forever. It is some how surprised. We were talked only in phone. I knew all about her except her appearance. Love cannot be bound in certain area. Love arise from the core of heart. Love never see age, sex, caste, face, wealth etc. Love is beginning point of new relation. That i knew from the books. That all happening real in my life. I was quite happy and some strange. My personality had been changed. This all due to the love but i was unknown about it. But one day that all dream and hope mixed in ashes. My eyes were not believe but it was true and my friend become very far with me that i unable to catch her. Only things to know and looking dream is not a love. I learn the lesson from my mistake and activities. I do not know where is my friend and what she is doing? I question with my heart,why u beats so fast when i called the name of my friend. That why i need of shadows as my love is.

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Love, fear and my heart

If we talk about love than it is very hard to explain and defined. Most of the bookish and philosopher had defined the love but it is condition and it cannot be define. It is different to different person. Love have vast meaning and it cannot be bound in single statement. It is mysterious."How love is born," To what extent personal happiness counts in love, all that is uncertain and one can argue about it as one pleases. So far only one incontestable truth has been stated about love. This is a great mystery, everything else that has been written or said about love is not a solution, but only a statement of questions that have remained unanswered. The explanation that would fit one case does not apply to a dozen others, and the very best thing, to my mind, would be to explain every case separately without attempting to generalize. Each case should be individualized, as the doctors says. Perfectly true,i assented. We Nepali who are cultivated have a weakness for these questions that remain unanswered. Love is usually Poeticized, embellished with roses, nightingales, but we Nepali embellish our loves with these fatal questions, and choose the least interesting of them, at that. In Chitwan, when i was a student, there was a girl with whom i loved, a charming creature, and every time i held her in my arms she was thinking about what i would allow her a month for housekeeping and about the price of beef. When we are in love, we never stop asking ourselves whether it is honorable or dishonorable, sensible or stupid, what this love will lead to, and so on. If that is a good thing or not i don't know, but that is a hindrance and a source of dissatisfaction and irritation, of that i am certain. Love cannot be measure nor it can be bound in line. Love never looks caste,face, color, sex, wealth, etc. No one know how love developed and where its Ene. Love arise from core of heart but love have no age. It never end. Most of the people hate it but some of them die for it. The next part of love is fear which arise suddenly with wind. It is very terrible and it might be take our life.

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My hanging T-shirt in jumla

I'm very quite and nervous to say that the things happening in Jumla. It is some interesting and real some how mysterious, some how stupid statement, my hanging t-shirt in jumla. After Christmas i joined the annual trek to view how Jumla is economically linked to the lowland region to the North. Our fellow travelers carried baskets filled with medicine herbs, hashish, hand knit sweaters and blankets to trade in jumla. It was quite hard journey. As we began the steep climb, windswept ridge, a handsome Chhetri women of about 30 turned the tables on us. Where are you going?" she asked- the question we had put to hundred of other many months. Your t-shirt is strange. You are from a distant village," she observed," Did you come on the wind ship i have seen in the sky?" yes," i said, and then she asked a favor that exhibited, poignantly, how small a universe still surrounds many people in the hinterlands of Nepal. As i descended to lower elevations winter gradually lost its grip. The trail passed through a strange forest of skeletal looking sal trees, with scarcely a leaf left on them, and we heard the sound of chooping from several directions. High in the trees women were chooping the few remaining green branches and dropping them to the ground to feed their goats. It was evident that in a few years these people would be bare and eroded. The most of the interesting things to say is apple and orange cultivation. Apple cultivation is popular in Jumla. I found myself walking wide eyed down the middle of a paved street in Jumla absorbing the barrage of new sights, smells, and sounds. I was beside himself at the sight of automobiles and horse- drawn carts. I raced off to buy sweets, dogging pretzels piled on leaf plates. I watched the hill people swarm from to shop in the bazaar. The fast talking merchants, they aung together, buying their cotton cloth from the same dealer, then moving on a aluminum, iron ware, spice and jewelry stalls. Back in our base camp to sumla. We pushed the research project to completion. I had witnessed the round of the seasons and had watched man and nature mesh in the often in hospitable western Himalayas. I had learned much in our 15 months of wandering a foot nearly 2,000 miles through western Nepal, and had gained a deep appreciation of its people. Still my t-shirt is hanging in the garden of Jumla. Please save it.

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My Heart leaps of up

It was the day after Holi, 1982, 8:30 in the evening. I was thirteen. I was sitting alone in the dining room of my apartment in the heart of the city of Pokhara. For more than eight hours that day i performed and supervised difficult work. My eyes were ready for its daily work, that they did in night. Soon i dozed off with my head on my arm on the table. I woke up suddenly when i heard the doorbell ring. Then i heard screaming and shouting of my mum. It was near about 9:30. I rolled down. It was raining lightly as i walked down the steps to the floor. A few cold women stood at their doorways, grimly watching me go. A very small boy waved good bye, and his mother boxed his ears. It was a beautiful April night. I fell surprised some how and be quite as a hatred boy. I was welcomed as a prince, My heart leaps of up. I was out of the village, and over the bridge, and up the hill toward steeplehat wood. It was quite mome
e the mountain sheep, a small, unhappy public house with a thatched roof like a wig with ring worm. The landlord stood at the door to welcome me, simpering like a wolf. He was a long, lean, black fanged man with a greased love curl and pouncing eyes. It was surprised, on the way journey, through the simmering moonsplashed dark, mum began to cook her supper on a primus stove in the middle of the charabance. She coughed herself blue in the smoke. We were sat down to take the food but the different was absent of roof, pots and lovely hand of mum which where hang for me. Her eyes were saying something with the flying moon. I guessed that she was remembering to my dad. But my hands were empty and mouth had no words to explain. We walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from side to side in her steps with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a mum clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her reason was an old with her head tied in a red rag. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air, that seemed meditative, like the chirping of a solitary little bird. I was not real son, i had been adopted and nurtured as a real son. In that meditative world i was forget to ask about my real world also her love were banned to ask. But i was selfish. She worked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a patter all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as through a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheeks were illuminated by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red ray her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper. Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. She said,"out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbit, coons, and wild animals keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Don't let none of those come running my direction. I got a longs way. I was surprised again. We were crossed pine mountain and oak mountain and again pine mountain. We were fell tired and our skin demanded for rest. But we were disagree. I was my first experience might be mum. Now and then we reached in desert but it was quite different desert there cottage and huts where with wind and dust. Least plants were found but there was source of water. mum cried and said,"we were got our destination. Again i was surprised and got the season of journey that we migrates. I knew that our Town was in disaster. Now i am thirty and i am respected every where. But i can't forget of my mum gift. Here every things is changed and my heart leaps of up.

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