the air freshner in the room stinks of fake lillies and there is rain in the air. I sit alone in the dark, the smell invading the pores of my body. i hear voices that yell and scream in the far distance. there must be something wrong with me. or is there something wrong with this place, i think.
i think and i think, thoughts arrive in a barrage of unsoakable rain. an old distant acquaintance intrudes my thoughts. in a moment of utter confusion, i am certain the intruder is me.
i reach for the silence, but i am unable to find it in the dark, i feel for the light switch and flick it on. the mellow soft rays of the shaded lamp light up the room in a faint hue of yellow.
the shadows mesh in with the darkness and the wind picks up.
i can now hear the rain pattering against the window, drumming my senses into oblivion like some drug. the sound is overpowering.
i flick the light out, and suddenly the drumming eases. my senses relax and i hear another sound now, and with it a light, a bright flash of hot electricity lights up the skies and makes strange shadows in the room.
i get up and walk into the next room in the darkness, the smell of the fake lillies follows me. i feel something crawl up my leg. i stiffen as the crawling object makes it way up my legs, paralysed with fear. i debate with myself if i should shake it off or crush it with one quick slap. i wait for it to get higher up to my thighs and then in one swift, smooth movement i bring my palm down on the exact spot where the crawler was.
the remains have disappeared. it couldn't be that fast i think. it couldn't have possibly gone away.
and then the sensation returns on my shoulder, the same crawler, roaming on my skin with its hairy legs like an unwanted and unwelcome, but unapologetic stranger.
i rush out of the room, falling in the insane process, and roll on the floor. till suddenly i am still and the crawler has left me. it has disappeared.
i myself now crawl to the light switch and turn it on, the main lights of the room. they flood the entire place in a bright white light. i get up, the darkness is gone. the lillies are gone, the rain has slowed down, and all is well it seems. for now.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
sack of shit
i hope you dream of monsters that come at you from behind your eye,
i hope you dream of spinsters that stab you behind your back,
i hope you dream of swinging from a cliff up high,
i hope you dream of drowning in a sack,
i hope you dream of slipping on ice as you try,
i hope you dream of being hooked on crack,
i hope you dream of getting full on wai wai,
i hope you dream of (n)ever getting on track
i hope you dream of spinsters that stab you behind your back,
i hope you dream of swinging from a cliff up high,
i hope you dream of drowning in a sack,
i hope you dream of slipping on ice as you try,
i hope you dream of being hooked on crack,
i hope you dream of getting full on wai wai,
i hope you dream of (n)ever getting on track
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Significant Insignificant
The joy of discovery is not one that is limited to the greats of our time. Columbus, one guesses, was perhaps more relieved than anything when he "discovered" the American mainland. The ancient alchemists upon discovering a new element or maybe a novel way of speeding up a chemical reaction perhaps felt a sense of accomplishment that would have surpassed their joy, or at best provided them with mixed feelings of happiness, a sense of accomplishment, pride etc. They would not have been able to experience the elation that a young child's countenance shows when he discovers, for instance, the volume knob on a radio. Clearly of no larger significance to anyone else, but a source of unadulterated joy to the child. Even when we are older discoveries insignificant from a higher vantage point are the ones that present us with that moment of indescribable happiness. The feeling of finding a piece of sea glass, a smooth and perfectly rounded stone on a river bank, a shiny trinket in the mud, an old coin, an art gallery that no one knows about, a tea stall with tea so good you would think the leaves fell straight from heaven, a hidden beach, a clearing in the woods, the list is endless. We all have these little discoveries that we have made and cherished, discoveries that have blessed us with that fleeting moment of joy in its utmost clarity and purity, joy that approaches elation and excitement, that skip of the heart beat, almost like falling in love.
For most of us, these moments seem few and far in between but if we let our imagination roam there are pleasures for our taking around every bend in the winding path of life. Every moment we live, and each breath we take there is something that we can take joy in. This possibly is the greatest discovery of all that we as human beings can make. To find joy in the smallest of things, no matter how insignificant.
For most of us, these moments seem few and far in between but if we let our imagination roam there are pleasures for our taking around every bend in the winding path of life. Every moment we live, and each breath we take there is something that we can take joy in. This possibly is the greatest discovery of all that we as human beings can make. To find joy in the smallest of things, no matter how insignificant.
Monday, January 5, 2009
a dream in pink
For some time now I have tried to document notable dreams that have come to me. Some dreams are just plain confused, some are scary, some exciting, and some so boring that the memory does not even consider them worthwhile storing it even for a fleeting few minutes or hours. The ones that have the most impact on us are the ones that feel real. These lucid dreams could be of horror, love, hurt, separation, anguish, physical pain, suffering, elation, intense excitement, and a plethora of other emotions that feel real beyond doubt. Then there are dreams that are remarkable not only because of how they make us feel but by their uncanny ability to mimic things in real life before they have happened, a sort of foretelling if you will. Dreams that one dreams and wakes up to find that some aspect of them has been repeated in the day. Dreams are mysterious indeed, and for all the work Freud has done, I am still not convinced he got to the bottom of it all. Simply because each human mind is unique, each experience is unique, and dreams are a product of these experiences and the mysteries locked in the uniqueness of the human brain. How can a general answer for dreams exist then, how can there be a rule for billions of exceptions?
My dream had two notable features. One has been a recurring occurrence in my dreams lately, in the past year or so. Before this when I was attacked or accosted in dreams I would be unable to fight back, even when I would will myself to defence or counter attack it would be impossible. The ghost would scare me, or I would get hit on the head with the falling brick, or even when the ledge was at hand I would be unable to reach out and grab it. This has changed now, and I find myself fighting and winning my battles. I find myself climbing out of desperate situations. The second notable feature was a moment of intense joy, and love. A moment I would dearly love to have repeated in my dreams or real life as many times as possible.
I was back in a sort of a dystopian school. There were a few buildings. One building with golden placks and varnished heavy wooden doors, plush carpets and excellent class rooms. This was my building and all students going into this building seemed to be well dressed and aiming at some sort of post high school education.
Then there were other buildings, crumbling, dark, mouldy. They were mere skeletons with no furniture, gaping holes for windows, no lights except what nature provided. The darkest building you can imagine, and with the students to match. A few stories high, and stair cases with no railings, these were the buildings where teachers had no control over their classes. A group of ruffians would stand outside the class smoking cigarettes and taking swigs of liquor while class was in session.
On my first day I walked in and was attacked by a group of these ruffians. I took a few knocks but eventually I was able to win the fight by the sheer strength of my will, a brick that I found on the ground as I was being kicked in the sides and the head, and a surge of strength that can only come to a man scared beyond all means. My fear propelled me to win this fight. And I proceeded to my fair building. The next day something strange happened. I walked in to the premises and found myself drawn to the dark building. My steps took a life of their own, I knew I was not supposed to be here, but my feet kept moving, up the stairs till I entered this class room on the top floor, with holes in the wall serving as windows. Then I found myself stepping over one of these door shaped holes in the wall onto a ledge. There I came face to face with the four assailants who I had humiliated only the other day. I knew I had made a mistake. I said, "I shouldn't be here, I am sorry". I did not want a fight. They approached, laughing, not in a sinister way, but almost friendly, as if I had come to join them. I literally tracked back, off the ledge into the class room, down the stairs out of the building into my own.
The dream broke here.
I found myself in my classroom, magically blown through the carpeted halls, and the stairway in a class room, in the front row. In a moment I realized that I was dressed in an unusual manner. I had a sleeveless black sweater, over a shirt and over the black sweater, I had a pink full sleeve sweater. I sat pondering why I could have dressed this way when I noticed that there sat next to me was a girl with blonde hair framing a face that I can only describe as being angelic, eyes deep pools of love, and she was wearing a pink sweater of the same exact shade. She noticed just as I did and took my arm and said, "oh look we are matching" and then kissed the bare skin of my arm for which the sleeve of the sweater magically disappeared. Although I do realize that this is off the charts when it comes to the "cheese factor", this is how it happened and there is no point being untrue to myself. This moment was sheer bliss, utter joy, indescribable. This was also the end of the dream.
I woke up desperate to put a name on that face. The name that my brain suggested was "Brechin" and I could not find out why till I realized that before sleeping the night before I had looked up a football club in the city of Brechin some way north of here. That then could not be it. She shall then remain nameless.
I forgot about this dream, till I was in bed again that night about to go to sleep. Then an event from the day occurred to me which put a new twist to the dream and its mysteries in general. I had gone into my parents' bedroom in the day, after lunch. My dad was on the laptop and my mom was reading something. They were both wearing tops in the shade of pink. I made a remark and they looked at each other and said, "oh we had not noticed".
Strange co-incidence? or could it be something else, something that is beyond you and me? something that maybe only another dream will reveal or perhaps something that will unravel with time. I certainly hope so.
My dream had two notable features. One has been a recurring occurrence in my dreams lately, in the past year or so. Before this when I was attacked or accosted in dreams I would be unable to fight back, even when I would will myself to defence or counter attack it would be impossible. The ghost would scare me, or I would get hit on the head with the falling brick, or even when the ledge was at hand I would be unable to reach out and grab it. This has changed now, and I find myself fighting and winning my battles. I find myself climbing out of desperate situations. The second notable feature was a moment of intense joy, and love. A moment I would dearly love to have repeated in my dreams or real life as many times as possible.
I was back in a sort of a dystopian school. There were a few buildings. One building with golden placks and varnished heavy wooden doors, plush carpets and excellent class rooms. This was my building and all students going into this building seemed to be well dressed and aiming at some sort of post high school education.
Then there were other buildings, crumbling, dark, mouldy. They were mere skeletons with no furniture, gaping holes for windows, no lights except what nature provided. The darkest building you can imagine, and with the students to match. A few stories high, and stair cases with no railings, these were the buildings where teachers had no control over their classes. A group of ruffians would stand outside the class smoking cigarettes and taking swigs of liquor while class was in session.
On my first day I walked in and was attacked by a group of these ruffians. I took a few knocks but eventually I was able to win the fight by the sheer strength of my will, a brick that I found on the ground as I was being kicked in the sides and the head, and a surge of strength that can only come to a man scared beyond all means. My fear propelled me to win this fight. And I proceeded to my fair building. The next day something strange happened. I walked in to the premises and found myself drawn to the dark building. My steps took a life of their own, I knew I was not supposed to be here, but my feet kept moving, up the stairs till I entered this class room on the top floor, with holes in the wall serving as windows. Then I found myself stepping over one of these door shaped holes in the wall onto a ledge. There I came face to face with the four assailants who I had humiliated only the other day. I knew I had made a mistake. I said, "I shouldn't be here, I am sorry". I did not want a fight. They approached, laughing, not in a sinister way, but almost friendly, as if I had come to join them. I literally tracked back, off the ledge into the class room, down the stairs out of the building into my own.
The dream broke here.
I found myself in my classroom, magically blown through the carpeted halls, and the stairway in a class room, in the front row. In a moment I realized that I was dressed in an unusual manner. I had a sleeveless black sweater, over a shirt and over the black sweater, I had a pink full sleeve sweater. I sat pondering why I could have dressed this way when I noticed that there sat next to me was a girl with blonde hair framing a face that I can only describe as being angelic, eyes deep pools of love, and she was wearing a pink sweater of the same exact shade. She noticed just as I did and took my arm and said, "oh look we are matching" and then kissed the bare skin of my arm for which the sleeve of the sweater magically disappeared. Although I do realize that this is off the charts when it comes to the "cheese factor", this is how it happened and there is no point being untrue to myself. This moment was sheer bliss, utter joy, indescribable. This was also the end of the dream.
I woke up desperate to put a name on that face. The name that my brain suggested was "Brechin" and I could not find out why till I realized that before sleeping the night before I had looked up a football club in the city of Brechin some way north of here. That then could not be it. She shall then remain nameless.
I forgot about this dream, till I was in bed again that night about to go to sleep. Then an event from the day occurred to me which put a new twist to the dream and its mysteries in general. I had gone into my parents' bedroom in the day, after lunch. My dad was on the laptop and my mom was reading something. They were both wearing tops in the shade of pink. I made a remark and they looked at each other and said, "oh we had not noticed".
Strange co-incidence? or could it be something else, something that is beyond you and me? something that maybe only another dream will reveal or perhaps something that will unravel with time. I certainly hope so.
the "new" year
I worked a graveyard shift from the beginning of December till the morning of Christmas Eve. 10-6 sorting shit out, wasn't bad once I got past the endless banter and antics of the young, uneducated and dare I say it, working class, of this country. To be fair I suppose their intentions, given their background were probably not malicious and it was just a bit of fun that kept the clock ticking. I had some fun at their expense myself. All in all some loose change in the old locker at Lloyds, and a body clock messed up beyond repair.
For a week after I finished I woke up at around half five in the morning for my breakfast, which invariably was dinner left overs from last night, because I would have skipped dinner by falling asleep around 6 in the evening. Since I did not want this happening on "new" year's eve, I started forcing myself to stay up later and later and finally on the night of the 30th I fell asleep around half ten, albeit with the help of a couple of cups of particularly strong coffee.
Finally the day was here, I woke up early as usual, that could not be helped, and the day went on. It looked like I was going to make it to midnight. After an early dinner, a few beers, and a few drinks of whiskey I felt unusually jubilant for that time of the night, given that for the past few days I had always been cranky and moody after 5, like some overworked employee kept in the office after everyone else had gone home. Things were looking good until about half ten, when i went for a lie down and started thinking.
My thoughts pushed me on to a revelation. I started thinking about the Sumerians and how they must have thought of the idea of the modern day time system, the whole deal with minutes and seconds and hours and so on. Then I pondered over the numerous calendars that we have. It occured to me that all it was is just divisions of the indivisible. It's like drawing lines on a map to make things easier, compromising reason for the sake of convenience.
What is so different about this year? Everything. That's right, everything about this year is different from last year and every year before that, and every year to come will almost certainly be different. Deja vus aside there aren't many things or events that repeat themselves without any variation. Hurricanes occur every year in the Gulf of Mexico, or in the South China Sea every year, but I can guarantee that none of them every follow the same course, or originate in the same exact spot. My point is that every day, every hour, every minute, and every second is a new and unique moment of time.
To say that the first of January marks the beginning of the new year is accepting your place among the fools of the world, who cannot see that this is just a matter of convention and not real. You could just as easily say that today is the beginning of the new year, or tomorrow or the 14th day in the 6 month of this year. Fine, as long as everyone follows it you have a new years day and another celebration and all the other festivities that come with it.
And then you have Lhosar, the Bikram Samwat "new" year, the Chinese "new" year, and if you follow the viking's calendar, or the ancient Sumerian calendar you might have another "new" year. Give me a break. Nothing new about this so called new year. Just another day made up hours, minutes and seconds, in another year made up of days. Every day just as new as the others, and every minute, and hour as shining and strikingly new as any other. Why celebrate a year with ten minutes of fireworks when you can celebrate time, and its passage by living it.
Now you might just say that all of this is pretty fundamental, but unless you have a revelation you have only heard the truth, after you have had the revelation then you have realized the truth and therein lies the insurmountable gap. You might even say that I did not have a revelation and I am just bitter that I missed the fireworks. That might have an inkling of truth in it, who knows? For now I am sticking with my revelation.
For a week after I finished I woke up at around half five in the morning for my breakfast, which invariably was dinner left overs from last night, because I would have skipped dinner by falling asleep around 6 in the evening. Since I did not want this happening on "new" year's eve, I started forcing myself to stay up later and later and finally on the night of the 30th I fell asleep around half ten, albeit with the help of a couple of cups of particularly strong coffee.
Finally the day was here, I woke up early as usual, that could not be helped, and the day went on. It looked like I was going to make it to midnight. After an early dinner, a few beers, and a few drinks of whiskey I felt unusually jubilant for that time of the night, given that for the past few days I had always been cranky and moody after 5, like some overworked employee kept in the office after everyone else had gone home. Things were looking good until about half ten, when i went for a lie down and started thinking.
My thoughts pushed me on to a revelation. I started thinking about the Sumerians and how they must have thought of the idea of the modern day time system, the whole deal with minutes and seconds and hours and so on. Then I pondered over the numerous calendars that we have. It occured to me that all it was is just divisions of the indivisible. It's like drawing lines on a map to make things easier, compromising reason for the sake of convenience.
What is so different about this year? Everything. That's right, everything about this year is different from last year and every year before that, and every year to come will almost certainly be different. Deja vus aside there aren't many things or events that repeat themselves without any variation. Hurricanes occur every year in the Gulf of Mexico, or in the South China Sea every year, but I can guarantee that none of them every follow the same course, or originate in the same exact spot. My point is that every day, every hour, every minute, and every second is a new and unique moment of time.
To say that the first of January marks the beginning of the new year is accepting your place among the fools of the world, who cannot see that this is just a matter of convention and not real. You could just as easily say that today is the beginning of the new year, or tomorrow or the 14th day in the 6 month of this year. Fine, as long as everyone follows it you have a new years day and another celebration and all the other festivities that come with it.
And then you have Lhosar, the Bikram Samwat "new" year, the Chinese "new" year, and if you follow the viking's calendar, or the ancient Sumerian calendar you might have another "new" year. Give me a break. Nothing new about this so called new year. Just another day made up hours, minutes and seconds, in another year made up of days. Every day just as new as the others, and every minute, and hour as shining and strikingly new as any other. Why celebrate a year with ten minutes of fireworks when you can celebrate time, and its passage by living it.
Now you might just say that all of this is pretty fundamental, but unless you have a revelation you have only heard the truth, after you have had the revelation then you have realized the truth and therein lies the insurmountable gap. You might even say that I did not have a revelation and I am just bitter that I missed the fireworks. That might have an inkling of truth in it, who knows? For now I am sticking with my revelation.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Open Letter
Dear Dr. Bhattarai,
Encouraged by your replies to these questions I write to you now to bring up an issue that is not articulated often. Ever since the rise of the Maoists to power there has been intense resentment among some groups towards them. Nonetheless the Maoists do enjoy considerable support without which this election victory would have been impossible. Although the merits of arguments that question the validity of such support, or the reasons for the resentment are debatable I will in this note shy away from them, and focus on the demographics that are "pro and anti Maoist".
It seems that the people of Nepal, and indeed the rest of the world, are divided into the haves and have-nots. This although a simplification of a situation which clearly is not black and white, and has numerous grey areas in between, does represent the situation broadly.
There are those that have things to lose, and they are apprehensive of the change that the Maoists party might bring as leaders of the nation. Then there are those that have nothing to lose, and can only hope that this change from the status quo of corruption, greed and self-serving politics, will somehow elevate their position in society and the standards of their lives.
The question I pose is this. What steps can be taken, or will you take to make sure that these two groups, that are equally important role players in the future growth and prosperity of the nation, move ahead in a spirit of reconciliation? I hope you appreciate that an extended class-warfare can only be a detriment to growth, and if steps are not taken that is where it looks like we may be headed to.
I see a lot of support for you sir, and then I see a lot of resentment, negativity, non-constructive criticism, and some comments that are downright ignorant. However a person of your standing and experience must have some mechanism to deal with these. I hope you keep working towards a better future for our nation and prove the nay-sayers wrong. You have my support as long as you sort out the problems within your own party in relatively good time, and work towards the promises you have made to the millions of this country.
Encouraged by your replies to these questions I write to you now to bring up an issue that is not articulated often. Ever since the rise of the Maoists to power there has been intense resentment among some groups towards them. Nonetheless the Maoists do enjoy considerable support without which this election victory would have been impossible. Although the merits of arguments that question the validity of such support, or the reasons for the resentment are debatable I will in this note shy away from them, and focus on the demographics that are "pro and anti Maoist".
It seems that the people of Nepal, and indeed the rest of the world, are divided into the haves and have-nots. This although a simplification of a situation which clearly is not black and white, and has numerous grey areas in between, does represent the situation broadly.
There are those that have things to lose, and they are apprehensive of the change that the Maoists party might bring as leaders of the nation. Then there are those that have nothing to lose, and can only hope that this change from the status quo of corruption, greed and self-serving politics, will somehow elevate their position in society and the standards of their lives.
The question I pose is this. What steps can be taken, or will you take to make sure that these two groups, that are equally important role players in the future growth and prosperity of the nation, move ahead in a spirit of reconciliation? I hope you appreciate that an extended class-warfare can only be a detriment to growth, and if steps are not taken that is where it looks like we may be headed to.
I see a lot of support for you sir, and then I see a lot of resentment, negativity, non-constructive criticism, and some comments that are downright ignorant. However a person of your standing and experience must have some mechanism to deal with these. I hope you keep working towards a better future for our nation and prove the nay-sayers wrong. You have my support as long as you sort out the problems within your own party in relatively good time, and work towards the promises you have made to the millions of this country.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Conundrum
"Fuck the Maoists. Fuck your communism. Fuck your hypocrisy. Fuck your politics of murder and violence. Fuck you all. You bastards."
That is the rant that brings me here today. Fuck the Maoists, yes fuck them indeed. The question that begs is why. Fuck your hypocrisy; and how are they hypocrites one might ask. Fuck your politics of murder and violence; I guess you cannot argue with that one.
But what is the truth? The rant, despite the questions it begs, and despite the partial truth it holds, is still the view held by most people I know. Or in other words most people I know detest the Maoists and their policies, which arguably have not even properly materialized yet, and have a fear or hatred of them which borders on the irrational.
Apart from the irrefutable fact that the Maoists rose to power by violent means, and the red carpet on which they walked to ascend the throne of power was truly blood red, the other accusations seem to be born of fear of change.
Two points here, first being the fact that they rose to power by virtue of the fear they instilled in people, and their blood stained hands are not trivial points by any means. There are times though when the ends justify the means. I am not sure how many more decades we could have gone on with the status quo, and the maladies the stagnancy was breeding in its depths and indeed even on the surface. If in a few decades Nepal has indeed shown tangible progress and the lives of people are improved across the board then this bloodshed will have been worth it. I say that with the utmost respect towards the individuals that have lost their lives, and the ones they have left behind. For the good of the greater society sacrifices must be made, and the fact that I did not make any such sacrifice should not disqualify me from commenting on it. Revolutions have made modern nations such as China, Russia, France and countless others.
As for their policies and accusations of them being communists and hypocrites, I ask have we even given them enough time? We were docile enough to give the NC and the UML enough time to all but destroy the nation. Now we have a group, admittedly with shortcomings, but a group that is based in ideals of egalitarianism. I do not agree with all the Maoists do, or say. But for the greater good of the nation I am prepared to make those sacrifices. I will even sacrifice some of my own personal liberty, liberty that I hold dearer than all else, if it bears fruits in the future.
That brings me to another important point. All the criticism I have heard of the Maoists has come from folks who are well off, folks who have something to lose. The fact though is that the majority of Nepali people cannot go any farther below than they already here. No matter how hard you try, once you've hit rock bottom, you can only hope to go up. The Maoists I suspect provide that hope. I have yet to come across a person who has come from modest means, or from an unpriveleged background who speaks in tones of fear of the Maoists.
I may receive accusations of being a hypocrite along with comrade Prachanda, who propbably is one, and Dr. Bhattarai who seems a genuine person. I accept these accusations without regret. Hypocrisy is a disease not uncommon, the lack of it quite rare. All I am talking of here, with respect to the current situation of the nation is that we should look to the future, be engaged in a constructive manner and not dwell on the fact that we personally have things to lose, but focus on what we collectively have to gain. The current situation is not perfect by any means, but I do see significant silver linings that may prove to be the first signs of a bright sun that shines on all of Nepal.
That is the rant that brings me here today. Fuck the Maoists, yes fuck them indeed. The question that begs is why. Fuck your hypocrisy; and how are they hypocrites one might ask. Fuck your politics of murder and violence; I guess you cannot argue with that one.
But what is the truth? The rant, despite the questions it begs, and despite the partial truth it holds, is still the view held by most people I know. Or in other words most people I know detest the Maoists and their policies, which arguably have not even properly materialized yet, and have a fear or hatred of them which borders on the irrational.
Apart from the irrefutable fact that the Maoists rose to power by violent means, and the red carpet on which they walked to ascend the throne of power was truly blood red, the other accusations seem to be born of fear of change.
Two points here, first being the fact that they rose to power by virtue of the fear they instilled in people, and their blood stained hands are not trivial points by any means. There are times though when the ends justify the means. I am not sure how many more decades we could have gone on with the status quo, and the maladies the stagnancy was breeding in its depths and indeed even on the surface. If in a few decades Nepal has indeed shown tangible progress and the lives of people are improved across the board then this bloodshed will have been worth it. I say that with the utmost respect towards the individuals that have lost their lives, and the ones they have left behind. For the good of the greater society sacrifices must be made, and the fact that I did not make any such sacrifice should not disqualify me from commenting on it. Revolutions have made modern nations such as China, Russia, France and countless others.
As for their policies and accusations of them being communists and hypocrites, I ask have we even given them enough time? We were docile enough to give the NC and the UML enough time to all but destroy the nation. Now we have a group, admittedly with shortcomings, but a group that is based in ideals of egalitarianism. I do not agree with all the Maoists do, or say. But for the greater good of the nation I am prepared to make those sacrifices. I will even sacrifice some of my own personal liberty, liberty that I hold dearer than all else, if it bears fruits in the future.
That brings me to another important point. All the criticism I have heard of the Maoists has come from folks who are well off, folks who have something to lose. The fact though is that the majority of Nepali people cannot go any farther below than they already here. No matter how hard you try, once you've hit rock bottom, you can only hope to go up. The Maoists I suspect provide that hope. I have yet to come across a person who has come from modest means, or from an unpriveleged background who speaks in tones of fear of the Maoists.
I may receive accusations of being a hypocrite along with comrade Prachanda, who propbably is one, and Dr. Bhattarai who seems a genuine person. I accept these accusations without regret. Hypocrisy is a disease not uncommon, the lack of it quite rare. All I am talking of here, with respect to the current situation of the nation is that we should look to the future, be engaged in a constructive manner and not dwell on the fact that we personally have things to lose, but focus on what we collectively have to gain. The current situation is not perfect by any means, but I do see significant silver linings that may prove to be the first signs of a bright sun that shines on all of Nepal.
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