Chronicles of emotions

“Chiya khaam hai” This seemingly simple offer, "Let’s have some tea" is more than just a gesture in Nepal. It's a greeting, an invitation, and a way of showing hospitality. Tea, or chiya, as it's fondly called, is deeply woven into the fabric of Nepali life, a comforting ritual that transcends social barriers and generations.  It's a gesture of kindness, a way to break the ice and create a welcoming environment. And as the cups are passed around, stories are shared, bonds are formed, and memories are made, all thanks to a simple cup of chiya. A Daily Ritual Whether it's the first sip to kickstart the morning, a mid-afternoon pick-me-up, or a soothing end to a long day, chiya punctuates the daily routines of Nepalis. The preparation itself is a ritual. Milk, sugar, and loose-leaf tea are simmered together, often with spices like cardamom and cinnamon adding an aromatic touch. The air fills with the sweet, earthy aroma, a call to gather and connect. Beyond a Dr

  Two days ago, I received a phone call from a friend. With an enthusiastic voice, he declared, "Dai (meaning elder brother in Nepali), the movie is great and it's 10 on 10, we will look after the kids, you two (me and my wife) should watch this movie". He had just come out of a theater after watching Animal, a recent Bollywood release, which has taken the box office by storm, leaving a trail of mixed emotions in its wake. While some hail it as a blockbuster entertainer, others criticize its misogynistic portrayal of women and its glorification of violence. Caught in this crossfire of opinions, I ventured into the world of Animal, eager to decipher its enigma. My initial skepticism turned into a chuckle as I pondered the stark contrast between my friend's glowing recommendation and my own critical assessment. The film, directed by Sandeep Reddy Vanga, revolves around the intense bond between a father, played by Anil Kapoor, and his son, portrayed by Ranbir Kapoor. As

  In the world of parenting, few items evoke such a strong and positive bond as the humble pacifier. It's a soothing companion that can instantly calm a fussy baby and restore peace to a frazzled couple. The pacifier becomes a beloved friend, a go-to tool for averting meltdowns and restoring tranquility. As a parent, you can't help but be amazed at the magical power of the pacifier. It's like having a tiny tranquility potion for your baby, capable of transforming wails into cooing and turning frowns upside down. The pacifier becomes your secret weapon, your trusted ally in the quest for a happy and contented baby. Of course, there are always questions and concerns that arise, especially as parents strive to provide the best possible care for their little ones. Some parents worry about the potential impact on speech development or dental alignment. Others may be concerned about hygiene, particularly in the early months.  The American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry (AAPD) rec

  In the serene embrace of the rivers Katuwa and Babai lay my childhood village, Bhaiskurma. A place where time seemed to move at the gentle pace of the rivers that bordered it. My memories of Bhaiskurma are drenched in the warmth of a joint family, the laughter of cousins, and the boundless affection of my grandparents. The symphony of daily life was a blend of animals’ calls and the playful meowing of cats. Our home, amidst the shade of neem trees, was a hive of activity - a place where everyone, from the youngest child to the eldest elder, contributed to the tapestry of rural life. Together, we celebrated festivals like Teej and Deusi Bhailo, moments that stitched our community closer, binding us in a shared tapestry of culture and joy. Agriculture was not just our livelihood; it was our identity. Men and women worked in harmony, tilling the land, and sharing the fruits of their labor. The village tailor, a regular visitor, became an integral part of our lives, his sewing machine hu

  As a father, I stand at the threshold of a world brimming with emotions, a realm where my daughter Diva, five and a half years old, navigates the ups and downs of childhood. Yesterday, her radiant smile was replaced by a cloud of disappointment when she didn't receive the coveted 'Student of the Month' award. Her heart sank, and her words echoed with the pain of unfulfilled expectations, "Dad, I couldn't get the award, and my friend got it. I always pay attention in the class and do all the assignments, and why I couldn't get the award?" In that moment, I was reminded of the delicate balance between acknowledging her disappointment and fostering her emotional resilience. I could either dismiss her feelings or validate them, creating a safe space for her emotions to unfold. I chose the latter. "Did your other friends get the award too?" I inquired gently. "No," she replied, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes. "See, other fri