Home | Hindi | Kabir | Poetry | Workshop | BoloKids | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact | Share This Page                       Shop Online

Poetry New | A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z             Submit a Poem

Editor's Choice of the Week | Poetry Knowledge Zone | Poet of the Week | Themes | Articles /Interviews

Channels
In Focus

Analysis  
Bolography  
Cartoons
Environment   
Opinion 

Columns
 My Word 
 PlainSpeak 
 Random Thoughts 
Our Heritage

Architecture
Astrology
Ayurveda
Buddhism
Cinema 
Culture
Dances 
Festivals
Hinduism
History  
People  
Places 
Sikhism
Spirituality 
Vastu 
Vithika  

Society & Lifestyle

Family Matters 
Health
Parenting
Perspective 
Recipes
Society
Teens 
Women 

Creative Writings

Book Reviews
Ghalib's Corner
Humor
Individuality
Jagoji
Literary Shelf 
Love Letters  
Memoirs
Musings
Ramblings
Stories
Travelogues

Computing
  General Articles
 
CC++ 
  Flash 
  Internet Security 
 
Java 
 
Linux     
  Networking  
Advertisement
 Boloji Prepaid
 International
 Calling Cards

Theme :  Social
Kathmandu is Nepal
by Satis Shroff

There were two young men, brothers
Who left their homes
In the foothills of the Eastern Himalayas.
The older one, for his father had barked at him,
“Go to Nepal and never come home again.”
The younger, for he couldn’t bear the beatings
At the hands of his old man.

The older brother sobbed and stifled his sorrow and anger
For Nepal was in fact Kathmandu,
With its colleges, universities, Education Ministry,
Temples, Rana-palaces and golden pagodas
And also its share of hippies, hashish, tourists,
Rising prices and expensive rooms to rent.

The younger brother went to Dharan,
And enlisted in the British Army depot
To become a Gurkha,
A soldier in King Edwards Own Gurkha Rifles.
He came home the day he became a recruit,
With a bald head, as though his father had died.
He looked forward to the parades and hardships
That went under the guise of physical exercises.
He thought of stern, merciless sergeants and corporals
Of soccer games and regimental drills

A young man’s thrill of war-films and scotch and Gurkha-rum evenings.
He’d heard it all from the Gurkhas who’d returned in the Dasain festivals.
There was Kunjo Lama his maternal cousin,
Who boasted of his judo-prowess and showed photos of his British gal,
A pale blonde from Chichester in an English living-room.  

February 11, 2007

Top

 
Analysis | Architecture | Astrology | Ayurveda | Book Reviews | Buddhism | Cartoons | Cinema | Computing | Culture | Dances
Environment | Fables | Family Matters | Festivals | Hinduism | Health | History | Home Remedies | Humor | Individuality | Jagoji
Literary Shelf | Memoirs | Musings | Opinion | Parenting | Perspective | Photo Essays | Places | Ramblings
Random Thoughts | Recipes | Sikhism | Society | Spirituality | Stories | Teens | Travelogues | Vastu | Vithika | Women

Home | Bolography | BoloKids | Hindi | Kabir | Poetry | Quotes | Workshop | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact


Boloji.com is owned and managed by Boloji Media Inc
Privacy Policy | Disclaimer
No part of this Internet site may be reproduced without prior written permission of the copyright holder.