Syangja Days – III

Nepalikukur | June 6, 2018

Where’s the pleasure in tea without a bit of a burp?

Syangja Days – II

Nepalikukur | May 10, 2018

Up and over a suspension bridge, past a tarp slipping off a bamboo frame littered with the aftermath of a bāluwā-gitti party – Himalayan Dragon Beer empties, half-devoured meals, a sodden fire, bike helmet, damp blankets.

Syangja Days – I

Nepalikukur | March 31, 2018

Of a sudden I find myself transported to a cottage of my own, an hour from Pokhara, a dusty, longish bus from Kathmandu.

“The Birds Will Eat My Bones”: Perhaps a Eulogy for an Impossible Saint

Benjamin Linder | March 17, 2018

John was drunk the first time I met him – 68 years old, thin but tough, short but imposing.

Writing Nepal 2017, joint 3rd: To Drown

Byanjana Thapa | March 17, 2018

It would begin as an emptiness that churned and expanded in Hajurama’s stomach, gutting her, carving her from within.

Writing Nepal 2017, joint 3rd: Brown bird

Shristy Uprety | March 16, 2018

She was Noor Jahan, she was Lakshmi Bai, she was Cleopatra, she was a Queen, a Warrior, a God.

Writing Nepal 2017, 2nd: Heart of Gold

Sujana Upadhyay | March 16, 2018

She had never really loved her husband. What she had felt for him was a kind of respectful devotion, the kind her mother had held for her father.

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Me Too

Itisha Giri | March 16, 2018

Me, too, can be king.

Writing Nepal 2017, 1st: the almost enlightenment of Prince Trailokya

Dipesh Risal | October 27, 2017

Prince Trailokya stopped at a bend halfway up Shivapuri, exhausted. He’d left his horse outside Budhanilkantha temple almost two ghadis ago and had climbed continuously, determined to make it to the top.