Samyak Shertok | May 6, 2015

The Kathmandu sky sliced with unlive wires. Highways broken like bread or a body.

Poetry, picked

La.lit | March 26, 2015

A few years ago, my husband and I shared a flat in London with my brother and sister. On some kind of quest for self-improvement, we decided that we should all read more poetry.

Two poems: Manu Manjil and Momila

La.lit | March 25, 2015

In our continuing celebration of poetry this week, we bring to you two gems from the very first print volume of La.Lit, by highly regarded Nepali poets Manu Manjil and Momila.

Brave new world

La.lit | March 23, 2015

Many Nepalis put great stock in bravery, seeing no irony in praising the bloodlust of Gurkhas in the same breath as they claim for themselves the apostle of non-violence, Gautam Buddha.

World poetry what?

La.lit | March 22, 2015

All Nepalis are poets at heart. How could they not be, living in this terrible contusion of the sublime and the second-rate? So every day is poetry day in Nepal, even if someone, somewhere, deemed 21 March to be World Poetry Day and we feel bad we missed it. We’ll make up for it. To […]

Writing haikus in Jhapa

Nasala Chitrakar | March 15, 2015

On 20 February this year, the eighth-grade students of East Horizon English Higher Secondary School in Jhapa found their language teacher, Rekha Ma’am, seated amongst them. That day, our team of four weary Word Warriors was taking on her role. After 16 long hours on a night bus from Kathmandu, we decided to throw our […]

To my first white hairs

Tishani Doshi | March 4, 2015

Weave then, weave o quickly weave your sham veneration. Knit me webs of winter sagehood, nightcap, and the fungoid sequins of a crown. – Wole Soyinka     Dear Sirs, I wish you’d arrived sooner. I’ve been waiting since 1983. HQ sent a notice of disapproval. A 7-year-old, they wrote, has scant need to speak […]

When I have a daughter

Itisha Giri | February 23, 2015

  When I have a daughter, I will pinch her every day so her skin turns to rhino hide – so she feels no pain when cornered by a stranger’s hand at play.   When I have a daughter, I will lash her with my tongue – so she is ready for it when someone […]

The patchwork man

JDS | December 3, 2014

1.   I knew a man who was made from echoes of all the men I knew before him.   He thought it was fate, and as I lay for the first time with my head in the familiar groove between his shoulder and chest, I let him marvel at how well I understood him. […]