The Blue Rabbits

“Nobody likes girls….who like to beat the gentlemen,” she said, streaks of tears streaming down her cheeks.

“And who told you so?”

“Do you have to speak such things out loud?” she asked, wiping her nose violently as if not conscious.

“What must I deduce of these fine tears of yours?”

“Anything you wish to.”

“So the young man who talked about stars, dreams and your favorite blue rabbit did not speak to you tonight?” “Am I right?”

She nodded.

“Look at the stars.”

“Do the stars have the answer?” “I must have done something stupid or looked less prettier than…”

“Why does it always have to be about yourself?” he asked.

She remained stunned.

“Do you come to mock my situation?”

“I do not. Who chooses to stay and who leaves does not make you any less of who you are.” “Look at the stars.”

She bent her neck and stared at the sky. It was not filled with the finest stars, but it wasn’t empty either.

“Will they not shine because you don’t go out and gaze at their beauty?”

“No.”

“Then why shouldn’t you?”

“Look,” she pointed. “Here they come.”

“So he’s walking with her…Wait, isn’t she your..”

“Friend. Sakhi.”

“Ah, she’s a good girl, isn’t she?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Do you like him?”

“Not that I know off.”

“Then why do you fume so bad?”

“I..I must be scared.”

“Scared that he wouldn’t talk to you about the blue rabbit you read last week?”

She did not reply.

“This is not the time for rabbits, Arki.” “When it will be time for rabbits, he will come to you with the thick black book.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” “Sakhi reads about rabbits too, you know.”

He did not reply. Arki turned around, but he had vanished. “What if he likes Sakhi’s rabbit story than mine?” “What if!” “Where are you?” “Where have you disappeared to!”

Arki turned left and right. But he was no where to be seen.

“Know that your rabbits are better,” he said in her ears. Arki froze.

“At least you should,” he whispered again. “Just the rabbits, mind you.”

Arki tried to grab him. But her hands remained empty. He had vanished again.

“Just the rabbits,” she said to herself.

Love, Lord and the Abyss

‘You call it love my lord?’ said the Princess as she played with the curtains draped over the balcony. 

‘For there is nothing finer than your face, my lady,’ spoke the smitten Lord. 

‘But one must close their eyes to feel love, it has no sight. One cannot hear it, it has no sound. A deep abyss it is. Are you ready to dance in it, my lord?’

‘You frighten me of love my fair one, but my heart has been crossed, forever and a deeper abyss could do no harm.’ 

Gold Coins: Flash Fiction 

‘What is there that these gold coins cannot buy,’ said the merchant proudly. The coins with holes in them was hanging around his torso bound by a thick wire.

‘Gold coins you say,’ said the young man. ‘For the matters of the heart it is still the barter system.’ 

‘I will find you a trader for your heart,’ said the merchant and walked away. 

30 Minutes of Traveling: Three Rupees

Whenever I do have to get on the micro bus, I try to get on one behind the driver’s seat. I’m not quite the fan of going against the motion, but this uneasiness keeps me from falling asleep, forcing me to look at the number of jammed people inside the vehicle.

The scenery looks different when you are seated inside a public transportation;  the torn seat cover with the foam popping outside from inside, people getting in on every stop (or just anywhere!) and the conductor trying to persuade them about the availability of space.

The bus stopped at Kupondole, just before the Bagmati Bridge. The seats were almost filled, but no one was standing just now. The conductor slid the door open and called on two girls by the road to get in.

Cha didi cha,’ he said. They declined. He tried one more time. They marched ahead.

There were mostly students today inside the bus, with or without their trademark uniforms. A girl of perhaps fifteen was seated in front of me. She stared out of the window conscious of my gaze. I tried to divert my eyes, but her innocence kept my thoughts concentrated over her presence. How beautiful is childhood without the touch of the pompous world. What does she worry about? What are her dreams? Will she conquer the world someday? She gets off somewhere between Jwagal and Pulchowk. And there goes my thought along with her!

A middle aged lady in pink kurta signals that she will be getting off somewhere at Dumkal while she tried to search whatever change that remained in her cream colored bag. She abruptly handed over Rs. 15 to the conductor.

Athara ho didi,’ he said sharply.

The debate for the missing three rupee began. The lady claimed to have always traveled this particular destination on fifteen while the conductor boy was adamant that the price had been hiked. She complained that three is rather an awkward change to carry.

The boy exclaimed that public transportation users were selfish. Here beings classism and antagonism.

If the fare had been Rs. 16 instead of Rs. 18, no one would hand in the extra Rs. 1 that was needed (10+5+1!), he says.

The conversation was heated up by now. Their voices filled the bus, capturing the attention of all inside. She said with mistrust that working class people were cheats. She said this not in words, but merely through her voice. May be they represented the people in and out, and may be it was just a normal conversation of the passing day. She finally got down.

Luckily I got my student ID, but well for how long? Let’s worry about that another day, OK?


This May let me take you through the streets of Kathmandu, and my thoughts that travel along with them. Don’t forget to let me know what you think about these stories. If you have a story, don’t forget to share! 

30 Minutes of Traveling

Alfa