If I Could Share the Rainbow

From a distance, a rainbow showers
a fragile arc of hope after long silence.
Colors whisper of beginnings,
while shadows murmur of endings,
and the quiet fear of drifting into nowhere.

Still, the heart refuses to pause,

for light so rare cannot be ignored.
In this moment, a rainbow is felt in life,
and the wish is simple:
may it linger a little longer; or maybe forever.

If only I could share the rainbow,
I would stay beside it,
lose myself in its colors,
and find you there as well.

Beneath the Peaks, A young mind speaks

As a young mind growing in the land of the Himalayas,

I wish to keep alive the strength of my thoughts, the bloom of my will.

To stumble, to rise; to make mistakes and learn...

But around me, the elders stand like immovable hills... Guides, yes!

Yet often unwilling to admit when they too have lost their way.

They drive us mad with commands,

Yet they carry neither the weight of their faults, 

nor the burden of their outdated truths.

Oh, how loudly they preach mindfulness,

While dismissing the very discipline in their own actions.

Still, I’m expected to bow,

To cover their flaws with my silence,

While my small slips are judged as rebellion.

Despite the applause when I speak from my heart,

Where is the shift?

Where is the change they claim to value?

Oh, wise heads with silvered hair,

When will you see that youth is not a threat...

But a force? Not a fault line in your legacy,

But a bridge toward a better future? 

FEMPARCHY: Where Respect Flows Both Ways

Dear Patriarchy,
I am just a young woman trying to carve out a space: 

a place where I can simply breathe.
I am not here to offend you, 

nor am I trying to rebel against your mindset.
I’m just a young woman, showing up with the hope 
A hope that we can belong to the same universe... 
A universe shaped by a common mindset of equality and respect.

Did I expect more from you? No… maybe I didn’t.
I am not here to compete with you.
I only ask for a little corner in your vast yard 
a space where my ideas are heard, 

and where respect flows both ways.
I don’t seek pity. I don’t seek favor.
All I ask is a fair share of values and virtue; a place at the table.

Dear Patriarchy, I’m not here to burn down your walls.
I’m just a young woman longing for FEMPARCHY :
A world that’s half of you, and half of me.
Together. For all. For the future.

Incomplete Looks Good on Me

You said you'd never walk out; but you did,

like it was the easiest vow to break.
No storm, no fight, just silence...
with the door that learned to close too well.

Today the air lifted my hair, like you used to,
but it doesn’t lie about staying.
I whisper, "Just the wind"
and pretend I don't miss your lies.

How funny! I dreamed in forever,
you listened in temporary.
You stared at me like art,
admired, then left abandoned.

And they say I look incomplete without you.
Cute but Sarcastic...
As if heartbreak isn’t the best thing
you accidentally gave me.

IDEOLOGY of FOOL's

Oh, great wise fool with banners so bold,

Chanting old dogmas you barely uphold.
Your ideology; so rigid, so grand
Like a house of cards built on shifting sand.

Truth bends and breaks to fit in your mold,
Nuance? Complexity? Stories untold.
Shouting in echoes, so certain, so bright,
Yet reason retreats from the heat of your fight.

March on, dear thinker, so sure, so right,
Blinded by dogma, but bathed in its light.
The world spins on, unmoved by your creed
While wisdom dies where fools take the lead.

The Art of Falling Quietly

They told me mountains heal; that if I sit still enough,

breathe deep enough, I'll feel whole again.

But all I feel is the earth cracking under me,

the dry, brittle grass clawing at my skin,

and the wind screaming prayers

I no longer believe in.

I used to carry hope; tightly, like a fistful of glass
sharp, glittering, cutting me every time I tried to hold on.  

They called it love. I called it survival.
But who survives like this?
Who drags their heart to the edge of the world
just to watch it bleed out quietly
where no one is looking?

They never broke me; They didn’t have to.
They just took: some of my softness,
more of my belief in tomorrow,
Yes of course, my stupid desperate need to be seen.
They drained me slow, until I smiled through my own vanishing,
until I laughed at my own undoing.
God, I was so easy to forget.

And now, here I am.
Not peaceful. Not reborn.
Just another ruin on the mountainside,

watching the sun set on a life
I don’t even want back. What’s left to want?
When you’ve given until there’s nothing,
when love is just a beautiful way... to be left empty.

Call it healing if you want. Call it growth.
But I know the truth. I was never climbing;
I was falling all along... or call it; fallen long ago.

Footsteps or Footnotes???

The elders lead, heads held proud,
feet on steps well-worn, well plouged.
The young ones trail, heads bent low,
following where they “ought” to go.

A woman behind, a man ahead,
the script unchanged, the lines still read.
Her steps are light, her space is small,
or so they thought. She’ll change it all.

Yet not alone, hands reach, stay,
lifting, guiding, lighting way.
Wisdom lent, not caged nor tied,
strength in voices, walked beside.

So here we march, down for a new page,
wrapped in colors, freed from age.
The flags still dance, the sun still burns,
and now—we rise. It is our turn.

The Chapter of Change

 

Change was never a hollow space,
a missing piece, a thing replaced.

It was the rhythm of time unfurled,
a shift, a breath, a turning world.

She carved her days with quiet grace,
not erasing, but reshaping space.
A book, a journey, a transitory rest
small rewrites in time’s request.

She held her ground, her steadfast view,
unchanging, firm, and wholly true.
Yet life, with whispers soft or stern,
can twist the path, can force a turn.

She didn’t know, she couldn’t see,
that change was waiting patiently.

To All the Women and Girls: Right, Equality, and Empowerment

Nepalese women and girls have made notable progress in recent years, yet significant challenges persist. As of February 2024, women held 33.1% of parliamentary seats, reflecting strides in political representation. In the economic sphere, female labor force participation increased from 23.6% in 2010 to 28.6% in 2022, with women comprising 29.6% of managerial positions as of 2021. 

However, 34.9% of women aged 20–24 were married before 18, and only 61.9% of women aged 15–49 had their family planning needs met with modern methods as of 2019. Additionally, the adolescent birth rate remains high, and significant gaps persist in areas such as unpaid care work and access to assets. As we approach International Women's Day 2025, it is imperative to address these challenges through collective action. This day serves as a call to break barriers, uphold women's rights, and promote gender equality through practical steps. By fostering an environment where every woman and girl in Nepal can thrive, lead, and live with dignity, we can turn the promise of equality into reality.

Step by Step: Side by Side

We dream of a world where voices rise,
where hope unites, where justice flies.
Not yours, not mine—but ours to share,
a space for all, a future fair.

Hand in hand, we claim our place,
no walls to break, no lines to trace.
Opportunities, not just a few,
but open doors for me and you.

We march today, not just for rights,
but for a world where kindness lights.
To walk as one, to shape, to drive,
to build, to lift, to dream, to thrive.

With every step, with every stand,
we write the future, hand in hand.

In the hold of Stillness

Silent he sits, where all worlds begin,
Eyes shut tight, yet awake within.
Moonlight rests on matted crown,

Ganga cascades in silver gown.

He is calm of dusk, the storm of night,

Fire that burns with healing light.

In Tandava's beat, the cosmos sways

Birth and ruin in endless plays.

With Parvati's touch, the fierce grows mild,
Half ascetic, half love's child.
He drinks the dark for life to stay,
Lord of time, who gives and takes away.

Almost Free

She left...
not because she stopped loving,
but because he stopped staying.

Now, hearts knock gently,
but her door stays closed.

Not ready.
Not yet.

Somewhere between leaving him
and loving again,
she lingers;
almost free...

Still Holding on

She lingers in the echoes of yesterday,

where his laughter still curls in the corners of her mind,

soft and deceiving.

She runs her fingers through memories,

like brushing pages of a story

she’s too afraid to finish.

He left; but the scent of him lingers in the air of her quiet nights.
His touch, a ghost on her skin
she cannot wash away.
She tells the world she’s fine,
smiles stitched like fragile silk across her lips.

But love? No! Love is a language she’s afraid how to speak.

How do you trust touch

when his hands once promised forever 

and let go?

How do you believe in hearts

when his pulse once matched hers

but walked away without a sound?

Others come close,

but her heart... afraid to bloom only to wither again.

She laughs at their words,

but her soul stays quiet,

locked in the room where his goodbye still echoes.

He took more than himself when he left:

he took the part of her

that believed love was safe.

Now, she keeps the memories,

even the broken ones

because letting them go

would mean admitting he never stayed,

never truly loved.

And maybe,
a small, fragile part of her
still waits...
for the impossible return, for a love
that won’t come back.

Until then, she’ll walk, half-alive,
wrapped in the softness of what was,
too tender, too torn
to begin again.

Bound by Silence

I’ve stopped holding expectations,

But they weigh heavy with their demands.

I’m overlooked for what I am,

Exhausted, drained by empty hands.

They want me to bend, to shift,

To wear their choices as my own.

Disgust swells as I drift,

In silence, my voice overthrown.

A democracy, they say it’s mine,

Yet I’m forbidden to speak my mind.

A system of freedom, locked in line,

Where my choices are lost, undefined.

Caught in this web, I wonder still:

Are we free, or just bound by will?