Author Archive: Prawin

Elections Day

On Monday, my parents left to vote in Abu Khaireni, my birthplace. I am not on the voters list there. I didn’t think I was on the list here, at Gongabu, either, but I was. Until I knew that, I was sure I wasn’t registered. I said—everybody is equally a thief, all parties. I said—I won’t vote. More (4)»

Mendocino Avenue

There was nothing remarkable about the night. The streets were quiet but businesses were bustling, people spilled out of bars to light their smokes and restaurants were closing shop. More (10)»

Tasks Given to Birodh

When Birodh realized that he had cut one whole onion where half of one would have been enough, he also remembered the list of tasks he was assigned for the day and panicked about the extra handful of chopped onions. Upon reflection, he felt honest about the sting in his eyes, which scared him into thinking that the dangers he imagined were slowly congealing into a torso with real teeth and claws. More (11)»

April Song

Old Nepal is in birth pangs, while New Nepal is being threatened with strangulation at the very moment of its realization. Old Nepal’s horrified death-screams mixed with a louder, more deafening death-silence of a nascent nation rings in Nepali ears. More (24)»

Half-revolution, and we are murderers

To correct one man’s blotched ambitions we must bloat another man’s? After blood lost, eyes lost, limbs and lives lost, we must settle for another half-measure? Are we in the game of cheering whenever one of the three thieving beasts gets the bigger share, although the flesh is carved from our chests? Wake up and see—a revolution is not a privilege: it is a punishment. More (5)»

The Good Priest’s Death

“Not too tight, now!” her voice almost rose to rage, as if her commands hadn’t been satisfactorily obeyed. She regarded her husband with two blind eyes squinted hard behind improbably thick spectacles. Her pupils magnified thirty times and flitted across dirty, dense glass. Then she turned her attention to the men who were strapping her husband onto the funereal ride. More (3)»

“Maybe Gulf countries are better, but never Malaysia…”*

Paramendra dai — your politics is, by necessity, confrontational, whereas Dipta dai’s politics is necessarily apologetic and defensive. More (29)»

Dibyopadesh

They say — as the old die their words fall unto the young. As I preach to you, such will you teach your children, and they will teach my children in turn, so they will keep and enjoy this estate. More»

Yield!

Over and over again our generation is discredited. Those who claim to have tasted the real world laugh at our supposed immaturity — and for good reason, too, because most retort to such ridicule is knee-jerk hot-air hormone-drivel. More»

Thanks to Mechi Tea

There were thousands of voices. Each pair of eyes saw and each mind spoke—after all, such were the times. Trembling hands searched beating chests and tear-trailed faces. Blood soaked soil, and blood soaked soil became flowerpots where a tentative, cautious future took roots. More»

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