Mayur Albatross Read online

 What is the difference between dream and reality? It’s just a wink of an eye. If you close your eyes, there is your dream and if you open, there is reality. Dream and reality nestle in your eyes only. The point of space confine only in the movement of eyelids. Dream requires effortless sleep and to make your reality beautiful, you need sleepless effort. We put tireless effort to make our dream true. Reality is seeing the visible and saying why but dream is about seeing invisible and saying Why not! Dream is about seeing light in the darkness, but reality is about facing it. We go on painting wonderful dreams on confined art paper hanging under water drops and we don't know when, how, why  breeze comes; spill those ripples of drops or take away with it and we come to be just a prostrate and helpless creature. To make your dream a reality is like to start a journey and terminate it to its destination with a huge sigh on your mind and heart. But before you start, your heart is always skeptical of some bad omen. If that omen is won, you reach the destination, else you never know…… Likewise dream is a beautiful journey and destination is a reality. The journey remains only a dream unless you dream to make it a reality.  

  You become what you believe you are; else, life becomes meaningless and dumb. There is one story of chicken and eagle. Once upon a time, there was a large mountainside, where an eagle's nest rested. The eagle's nest contained four large eagle eggs. One day an earthquake rocked the mountain causing one of the eggs to roll down the mountain, to a chicken farm, located in the valley below. The chickens knew that they must protect and care for the eagle's egg, so an old hen volunteered to nurture and raise the large egg.

  One day, the egg hatched and a beautiful eagle was born. Sadly, however, the eagle was raised to be a chicken. Soon, the eagle believed he was nothing more than a chicken. The eagle loved his home and family, but his spirit cried out for more. While playing a game on the farm one day, the eagle looked to the skies above and noticed a group of mighty eagles soaring in the skies. "Oh," the eagle cried, "I wish I could soar like those birds." The chickens roared with laughter, "You cannot soar with those birds. You are a chicken and chickens do not soar."

  The eagle continued staring, at his real family up above, dreaming that he could be with them. Each time the eagle would let his dreams be known, he was told it couldn't be done. That is what the eagle learned to believe. The eagle, after time, stopped dreaming and continued to live his life like a chicken. Finally, after a long life as a chicken, the eagle passed away.

   

  A dream is temporary but a reality is permanent and real but unfortunately all dreams seen don’t turn out to be the reality.All have dreams and nightmares; one can conquer the nightmare because of dreams. One should better love the dreams of future rather than history of the past. Let’s take the words of Woodrow Wilson, he says “We grow great by dreams.” All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening. Some of us let these great dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true. 

  This is a story of a young dreamer Simrika, who had many dreams until and unless she turned out to be a drug addict and was forced to live her life tossed up in everything, everywhere. A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, but her punishment was that she saw the dawn before the rest of the world and the future.  The invariable mark of a dream is to see it come true but before her dreams came true, she fell in the trap of second world of temporary illusions. Many times, she tried to be clean but her cruel body made her helpless. She lived in a metro, Kathmandu, nestled beautifully in the laps of bounty Himalayas. Twenty one years ago, Simrika opened her eyes when her mother closed her own. Those innocent eyes of her’s were thirsty of desert of getting mother’s love. She was lived in this world by her father and elder sister. Her father was a rich man but a wino bibber. He had enough time but those hours, minute hand of his clock didn’t point for his family. He was like ATM card machine for her daughter. She could withdraw any amount till the validity didn’t end in his expenses for the drinks.

  The whole world of her sister was confined to a single room. To her, the whole world was only those as shown by her window. She was the single patient of several diseases. She could neither move nor walk, just was confined to a single bed. It was a physical illness caught up in her childhood that bounded her to choose a room as her whole world. She had to depend on artificial inhaler to make her natural soul and body alive.

  During Simrika’s childhood, her innocent eyes picked up many big dreams of becoming a doctor or an engineer but all turned out to be fragile and pushed to some uncertain periods when she became a drug addict. In her school days, she was quite jolly, friendly with her pals but when the time passed by, there were drastic changes in her behaviors. She spent half of childhood in hostel confining herself away from the world as far as possible, living up to her own. When she returned home, completing her high school, still she found her more into darkness in light due to her father’s attitude and behaviors. Her smile showed the lie while her eyes showed the truth. Every time, her desire quenched for loneliness among the crowd. Behind these hazel eyes was a girl who was very lonely inside, even though on the outside she was smiling. Her silence talked more than her words.

  Smokes, drugs, gajas became her daily necessities. Once, she was deprived of those stuffs, her body started fighting against her own soul. She didn’t walk in the road as if she ruled the world, but she used to walk in the world as if she didn’t care whoever ruled the world. She was more freaky. The bindas girl in a local language, who puffed one, two packets of cigarettes daily and needed the daily dose of syringe piercing inside her skin. To meet the thirst of those drugs for her body, she started selling her stuffs when she found no money in her account.

  Reading novels, writing poems, articles became her favorite pastimes. She hardly had friends. Some of her close friends got distanced from her when she fell in the trap of drugs. She had circles for dealing with drugs but there were none for dealing with her emotions and feelings. She was technically and socially challenged. Unlike the people of her ages, she was out of this wired world. She was out of modern era and fashions of going party, discos, dates…

  She always woke up late in the morning, had food and travelled different places that were free of crowd. This was her schedules. She loved travelling. Cafes, Swoyambhunath, Taudaha, chovar; these were the cool places of Kathmandu that used to be her destination. In her one hand, there used to be a novel and in other, the burning cigarette and she used to walk without caring the world.

  She used to express her feelings through the tips of pen on the paper. No doubt, she was an amazing writer. She used to see this world through her eyes and jot them down on the paper.

  One day, she went to Taudaha, a beautiful place that tranquilizes your heart and mind with the echoes made by ripples of water. She made herself comfortable in the side above the water. She took out pen and note and started expressing her feelings about life and freedom. With every puff of her burning cigarette in her another hand, she completed one poem-

  LIFE- IT GOES ON

  When I was a little girl, I ask my mother, what will I be.. Will be…

  She said Whatever will be.. will be.. just go on being free…..

  Today when  I look myself, I find myself being none..

  Just lost in a crowd, lost in dream n lost finding reason of my born..

   

  Life , I summed up in three.. It goes on…

  Happiness and sadness, breaking each self, comes turn by turn……….

  Don’t underestimate, rate other today, as u have a LIGHT….
r />   Still there is darkness in light, only is u can’t see its sight….

   

  In life, It’s the little things that u do…….

  Makes somebody feel so good………

  Doesn’t matter how much u do….

  What matters IS how u do…………..

   

  Love is nothing, just a way to spend a Life…

  The more u get, the more u want high and high……..

  So, life is nothing, just a combo  of love and dream

  U get, be happy but nothing remains at the end……..

  In this way, she used to throw her anger, feelings through her pen. She was enjoying completely to her world. No worry of the world, no stuffs to trouble, ultimately no chance to make it double.

  She used to return home late after travelling different places. Then she used to visit her sister’s place and talked with her little about her conditions but her sister had no words to share. She was a silent listener. Her father used to arrive late in the night and had no care towards her daughters and leave the place early when sun struggles finding his existence again.

  One day, she accidently went to Kingsway with some friends who had come from abroad, a comparatively crowded place, where there are many woolgathering girls hanging around and shopping very expensive and branded stuffs. The whole world there was comparatively different and a high class. While little far away, she saw the different groups of folks walking around. Regarding this and her experiences, she wrote one article that night-

  THE HIGH LIFE

  I was walking down Durbar Marg with my friends on a recent day when one of them excitedly announced, “Look this shirt I’m wearing. It is one of my favourite brands. It’s worth Rs. 6,000—I bought it in Sherpa Mall.” He told us all about his other favourite stores, like John Players and U.F.O, to name a few.  He also pointed out the new pair of Adidas shoes he was wearing. He complained that he wasn’t wearing Nikes, to him a better brand. He then went on to show us the other accessories he was wearing. All, we were told, were very expensive.

  He looked me up and down and asked, “Where did you buy your shirt?” I looked at my shirt and replied “Last night, I brought this at Sundhara, along the footpath.” Needless to say, he was in shock that I don’t buy my clothes exclusively from Sherpa Mall and City Centre, though that’s not to say that I haven’t visited those places.  He asked me why I didn’t do my shopping there. I replied sarcastically, “Because Sherpa Mall doesn’t have the clothes of my favourite brand. As soon as they my brand, I will surely go there.” He continued talking about different accessories and brand-name items.

  For many people living in the metro, wearing branded and high-priced clothing is the only way to look fashionable. They visit many malls and even order items from abroad. Going to high-profile malls and shopping for brand-name clothing is not bad, but it’s worth it to explore the rest of the city’s offerings as well. Let’s visit our tiny shops and footpath markets. Who knows, they may have the style of clothes that you are looking for and you look comfortable in.

  With these other options available, is it necessary to wander through the expensive racks of pricey stores and order from abroad? Clothing bought on the street may not be expensive, but often the quality of these items can be just as good as those with a brand name.  Along the walk, my friend pointed out KFC and said, “I often go here for lunch. I don’t like eating at other establishments.

  Have you been to KFC? Their foods are hygienic and top class, you should visit here more often,” he suggested, as if any restaurant without an international name were far inferior.

  Is this obsession with brands and high-priced items the only way of living the high life and looking fashionable? If so, then I prefer not to be fashionable. Fashion is a form of self expression—wearing expensive clothes doesn’t ensure a sense of style, and eating at expensive restaurants doesn’t ensure the best

  tasting food. As for my friend that I mentioned, I prefer to call him ‘a brand and a price tag’, not someone in tune with fashion. It’s not all about shopping for brand-name clothes and going to expensive cafes. We can look good and fashionable in low priced clothing and nothing is better than a delicious cheap meal.

  She travelled many beautiful and lovely places of Nepal. Pokhara, Syangja, Humla, Jumla were some of them. She travelled there all alone as internal tourist. She got to study those places very gingerly. She saw many diversifications among these places. Some were highly developed whereas, some were very least. There was political instability in the country. In a way, she was totally frustrated by the fragile situation of country. This was the first time, she showed the concern for the country. To express her feelings about the country, she jot the piece-

  POLITICS ALL AROUND

  Why are there so many problems in Nepal? It’s mainly because of two reasons—politics and preferences. A student doesn’t read, but engages in politics, a businessman doesn’t do business but plays a political game, and the same goes for workers. But unfortunately, the political game isn’t always fair. Many times they revolve around power and pulling each other’s leg. One reason behind many problems is preference. In any organisation, if you apply for the job, in most of cases, you get job because you have some kind of relation to the boss. Due to this, the wrong person often gets a good position and the right person never gets chance. Here, talent counts less. It doesn’t matter how talented you are, what counts is how many links and relations you have.

  Everywhere you go, there are politics. You may travel in a public bus, but you are afraid to argue with the conductor when they charge you more. After all, they often have unions affiliated with some political leader. In colleges, there are student unions affiliated with political parties. Teachers fear to charge students for breaking rules in fear of some kind of political retribution. A boss fears to criticise his employees because they belong to political parties. The police are forced to release criminals due to pressure from political parties. Traffic police fear punishing law breakers because of misdirected political pressure. In one incident I saw where a young man on a bike hit a pedestrian. Luckily the pedestrian wasn’t hurt. The man driving was actually in the wrong—driving on the wrong side of the road. The traffic police arrived and asked him for his licence, but the boy didn’t have one. After some arguing, the young man made a phone call and handed it to the officer.  After a short conversation they released him without any punishment. I was shocked—where was the justice? And this political pervasion isn’t limited to people with links with people high up in the political spectrum.

  In this situation, real talent is often overshadowed. You get a job not because of your talent but because you are have a connection to the boss, owner or person even higher up. And when these connected few get a job, they think they are superior to anyone else. Recently, one of my relatives applied for job in an organisation. He had a Master’s degree with first division and with a long list of experience as well. In the end, there were two candidates for job. The other one had a Bachelor’s degree. But the second one got the job simply because knew the employer.

  If everyone does their respective work independently and decently, then there won’t be any chaos. Let students read, businessmen do business, workers do work and politicians do politics fairly.

  Once, while she was in Pokhara, she had to bind herself in a room for whole day due to curfew in the city. In her room, she had only a television, movie player, some cds and that’s all. Unluckily, those cds contained Nepali movies. She was fan of English movies but she decided to settle down with those movies. At last, something was better than nothing. Some movies were good, some were average and some were very bad. To describe her experience about Nepali movies, she wrote a piece on her diary recollecting those scenes and moments. That night, she came out in the verandah, took out her cigarettes and started writing something….

  COST OF GOO
D MOVIES

  Just imagine, you go to a movie hall, pay for a high-priced ticket to see the latest Nepali flick, only to leave long before the interval because you weren't enjoying the movie. How would you feel in that situation? Perhaps a little disappointed, or maybe even a little bit angry having wasted your valuable money. At least that's how I felt when I watched Nepali movies after not going to see one for a long time. We were excited to see a product of our own film industry, but unfortunately, we did not like the movie. It was like a serial, lacked clean cinematography, featured bad acting, and didn't have a good storyline.

  There are many youth in Nepal that prefer watching foreign movies over our domestic productions—especially in Kathmandu, which is flooded with countless foreign movies featuring Angelina Jolie, Tom Cruise, and many others. There are many youth who even find it difficult to recall the names of our movies. In a discussion, one of my friends said that watching new Nepali movies nowadays is a waste of time and money; it fails to provide the entertainment that we seek. But, he shared that he is still a fan of classic Nepali movies. "They were really good with good stories and melodious songs. But now it is hard to find such movies." He named a long list of classic Nepali movies that he had seen. Still today, he loves listening to the old songs from those movies.

  Some people argue that our film industry doesn't have a large enough budget to make quality movies. They say that we shouldn't always look at our movies in comparison with foreign movies. But is the budget the primary reason for the poor quality of recently produced Nepali movies? Even good movies can be made with a small budget. Take the movie Rock on!! for example. Though it was a low-budget production, it still rocked audiences. This just shows that ideas and stories are more important than a large budget. Most of the time, we copy foreign movies or use the same old formula. In many movies, we either have the same old love stories or fight scenes.