Fiction

Two worlds meet in the centre of the universe

Dipesh Risal | April 19, 2017

Amritananda smiled. What a strange, quaint person this Rejident was, impeccable manners, soft-spoken and so out of place in the cesspool of Kathmandu politics.

Where is Lester Young?

Paritosh | December 5, 2016

I tell her that it’s 2062 where I come from.

Senator, do you shave?

Paritosh | July 26, 2016

Clocks are trouble. They lie. Women are trouble. They know when you’re lying. Bloody hell. I don’t know what day it is.

Lakhen and dragonflies – I

Salik Shah | May 12, 2016

There was a time when people in the great plains believed in ny?ya. Not anymore. Not after what had happened.

Taxicab confessions

Paritosh | January 14, 2016

“Y’know, Marilyn Monroe was a Russian spy?” “Nope. But a postman wrote Ham on Rye.”

Love in the time of blockade

J?r?me Le Fiste | December 1, 2015

I can’t exactly remember what happened in the days before the blockade was imposed. But I do remember that just as the gates in the mysterious south went down and prices went up a beautiful girl with dark curly hair moved in to the next building.

Writing Nepal, 3rd: The pārijāts will bloom

Abha Niraula | September 8, 2015

“Pārijāt only blooms at night”, Ama tells me.

“No it doesn’t,” I giggle in disbelief.

Writing Nepal 2015, 2nd: Shashi Neupane decides

Sumit Poudyal | September 1, 2015

Mr. Neupane woke up one day not wanting to go to work.

Writing Nepal 2015, 1st: In the hollow of your hands hides a heartbeat

Pranaya Rana | August 16, 2015

Raman took his first photograph at the age of eight. An oblong window in northern Kathmandu looking out on land that had turned to marsh in the monsoon rains, peopled with frogs and the young of mosquitoes.