Art

Writing Nepal 2019, 2nd: The Poet’s Daughter

Malashree Suvedi | October 2, 2020

Aahva had run away from home at 17, packing nothing but some clothes, some food from the kitchen, her dead mother’s diary and three thousand Indian rupees that she had found while rummaging through her father’s drawers.

Line of Thought: Conversations on Nepali Art

Shefali Upreti | January 15, 2020

‘Line of Thought: Dialogues on Pedagogy and Personal Practices’, running at the Nepal Art Council in Babarmahal until Saturday, 18th January, 2020, intends to start conversations, some beyond pedagogy and practice.

Writing Nepal 2019: The Shortlist!

La.Lit | November 17, 2019

After a fall of reading and re-reading your submissions to the fourth edition of La.Lit’s Writing Nepal: A Short Story Contest, Judge Samrat Upadhayay has revealed his picks!

To Ebba, soul and body

Byanjana Thapa | August 7, 2019

So what do we love, in the end? An amalgam of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen and phosphorus? Or a projection, a shadow, a signal that blinks off when its physical progenitor ceases to draw breath?

Four distances

Prawin Adhikari | February 2, 2019

On the first day of 2019 I happened to be rifling through a bookshelf in a hotel in Benaulim, Goa, a bookshelf of the sort common in places where people come to forget.

The Eternal

Thomas Bell | December 28, 2018

“Have you seen a nāgā?” I was talking to an eminent scholar, from a famous American university, about Kathmandu’s religion. He clearly felt that I’d misunderstood what these spirits might be. “They are not snakes,” he said. “They are a bit like a fish or an eel, with long fins along each side. They are […]

Revisiting Kathmandu

Nepalikukur | December 9, 2018

I’ve been back barely a fortnight and my system is rejecting the very air I breathe. My throat feels raw, my eyes water and itch, and I’ve been sneezing like the Dickens.

Editorial, Food Issue

Rabi Thapa | December 1, 2018

Let’s spit out the cliché: you are what you eat. What, then, are we? A garden of flowers nodding in the wind? A nation of voracious mlechhas?

Three poems by Kathryn Hummel

Kathryn Hummel | November 19, 2018

The last sip of chai means morning is done. You have plans to abandon.