Neither thought, nor thought!

I was going to recite a poem at an open venue near Nyatpol held in Bhaktapur. Koteshwar was about to be cut. The occasion was Haiku. I was with Sangeeta Thapa and Momila, art curators who give a meaningful dimension to Nepali art. I was sad for a while, I broke out some haiku :

dry pond,

chuplungchuplung me,

without rain.

Everyone laughed, I don't know what made them laugh. Haiku came to mind and that's where my haiku journey ended - I thought so. While waiting for my turn to read poetry in Bhaktapur, I was with Bhushita. I recited a haiku to him on the way. She didn't respond, instead spoke meaningfully about the importance of haiku. And at the end she recited a well-known haiku, which instantly touched my senses. Meaningful things are not recorded by the mind, but haiku are engraved in the memory.

One day, I was at the house of poet Durgalal Shrestha in Thamel. I recited Bhushita's haiku to him. He has a habit of getting goosebumps from his heart when listening to touching poetry. He was shocked. He said 'Banla' (good). And shared his thoughts on the importance of haiku. He said, 'Ah, brother. Who can express himself, his philosophy and life in Haiku, i.e. five-seven-five letters, in total seventeen letters, what will happen to him when he writes a poem, story, essay or novel?'' is learned And, he who knows how to conserve words, realizes the power of expression and uses words sparingly to draw a tactile picture of emotion, becomes a benefited reader.

By the time I reached home after the satsang with my brother that day, I had a fever - the root of Haiku. At that time, I used to write on paper, not on a laptop or computer. The plan was not to write a haiku and go to bed, but in the first sitting there were fifty. After that, all the emotions, imagination and experience in the brain seemed to be drained. Even the words felt slurred. All property of expression was lost. And as if I was crushed by the exhaustion of physical labor. Helplessly I slept quietly. The next day I returned home after a long day of running around and the campaign to add new haiku began again. One hundred and five haikus were reached on the third day. I didn't have the energy to write any more haiku, the fever was over and I woke up from the haiku dream.

In 08 I was in America. Handwritten haiku had migrated to the laptop. Sometimes the process of changing words or editing was going on at leisure. By removing and adding, the number of haiku reached 120. I had a friendship with Bhim Karki, founder president of International Nepali Literature Society, Dallas. He had heard some of my haiku. In 2010, he published the collection. I was accepted, but there was no way to print without the permission of my haiku master Bhushita. I was sure that he would give me honest advice. emailed Upset, Bhushita said no. There was chaos. But, fortunately, I did not get lost in the ranks of Fasad. Instead, I forgot to print. I gladly accepted the name that the literary expert had given me. This is how printing is avoided. However, his association with his haikus continued. Erasing, thinking and adding continued. From 2010 to 2015, the work continued to be edited and preserved when there was occasional free time.

Apart from reciting a few memorized haikus at gatherings, the idea of ​​printing haikus had disappeared from my mind. Suddenly the year must be 2021, Bhushita called after 'millions' of years. He offered to print my haiku collection from Publication Nepa-Lay. From here, the journey that ended started again. 120 haikus down to 101. It increased again to 127, although it reached 170. Time consuming and limited to 150 before going into print. The cover and layout were changed several times. Eventually we all agreed on the template for the cover and design. Then, instead of a prepared script, I was offered to design a book under my own signature. It also consumed more time. In total, he climbed it for three and a half or four years.

I think, until the book reaches the hand of the reader, the story will be an interesting and surprising coincidence. The birth story of a book like human life! Where did I think that one day I would write a haiku, that an angel would come from some corner of the earth and leave the seed of a haiku? Where did I think that after the harvest of haiku planted in my brain, she would arrange it into the hands of the readers?

says, I will carry the pyre. I didn't expect it, but the merciful cosmos delivered. Grateful to the cosmos. And I like to say - Life is fair, and it is beautiful.