Random hits on the keyboard

Every morning, I come to the office on my bicycle. It is not a heroic act, though there are only a few people in my office who cycle to work. Living close to the office is one advantage for me, but… but… that is not the only reason. I genuinely love cycling now. I ride around the city for both official work and personal errands. Cycling often makes me nostalgic. When I think about my childhood, I remember my father on his bicycle—not as a hobby, but as a way of life. He used it to deliver vegetables. The bike had a modified seat for me on the top tube and a small footrest on the triangular frame. I used to ride with him from our home to our farm at Banasthali . The same bicycle carried two vegetable baskets on both sides when he went to the market. For my father, that bicycle was a Mercedes. I learned to cycle on a hired bicycle. There was a cycle shop at Makhan where we paid about one rupee fifty paisa per hour. I still remember riding around central Kathmandu on those rented cycles. ...

There is a thought that keeps returning to me whenever I walk through the Kathmandu Valley. This city is not built only with bricks and roads, but with thoughts. It is a manifestation of the collective consciousness of the people who live in it. Kathmandu did not become Kathmandu by accident. It carries centuries of shared memory and many layers of collective consciousness. Every narrow alley, every temple tucked into a street corner, and every festival we take pride in are the results of what our ancestors believed in and the values they shared. Tradition and culture did not merely decorate this city; they gave it life. Then came the years of building a “modern” Nepal. The priorities shifted toward physical infrastructure. I vividly remember our first mayor promising to turn Kathmandu into Singapore. What a tragedy. In that moment, the collective consciousness of the city pushed aesthetics and identity to the back burner and focused instead on roads and high-rise buildings, often at t...

Being a parent is an amazing experience. We learn about childhood more than we ever lived it ourselves, yes, that famous cliché. But the reality is that raising a child is not a child’s job. It requires patience, wisdom, self-control, emotional intelligence, and many superpowers, all at once in one person. I may be exaggerating a little, but not by much. Here is my personal story, a few days ago. The scene began when I returned home from the office. My expectations were very reasonable. My kids would be sitting quietly, homework done, book in hand, perhaps reading something inspiring. Maybe even smiling. Reality, as usual, had other plans. My daughter was watching YouTube. Not educational YouTube, but those videos where kids go shopping, shout at the camera, throw things around, and are rude to each other. I hate those videos. I asked the obvious question: “Have you done your homework?” The answer was a confident “Nope.” I checked my son, who is on video game. I did not even ask the ...

I am annoyed when my daughter is always on a mobile phone watching YouTube. Mostly, she is watching some useless shorts, featuring kids doing nonsense. Then, she scrolls to another video, to another and on and on. I call her for something, and she ignores me. I repeat, she says, 'aa', and continues. Eventually, I often lose my temper and shout at her. And then comes the discomfort that it is not only about her. At the family gatherings, I see every kid (and big kids) is watching their mobiles. They show the mobile to each other and giggle. They seem to have no interest in what's going on around. We go to lunch together in the office. As soon as we finish ordering, or even before that, we all reach out to our mobile phones and start checking them. Then we start to respond to our emails or WhatsApp messages. The feeling of urgency kills the short lunch break. In the morning, when I sit down for breakfast, I do the same. I open my emails and start to scroll. And my family get ...

Every alternate day, I stay home in the morning. The days are for stretching and Callisthenics. I had back pain my entire life, and now, for the first time in my life, I have a painless back. I wake up at my usual time, before the city wakes up. I complete my exercise, and  I brew coffee in my moka pot—and I can tell, I’m getting better at it. I fill the bottom chamber with warm water, just below the valve. I buy beans from a particular cafe. I grind the beans in my manual crank pot. I fill the filter basket with medium-fine grounds loosely. The pot goes onto the stove and a small flame. I wait. As coffee starts to pour, I further reduce the flame. After a while, I remove the pot. I don't let the moka pot gurgle in the end.  When I pour coffee into a cup, it is strong, balanced for my taste. It is not perfect - but better. I sip it by the window, watching Kathmandu, waking up or struggling to wake up. I see what many don't see: a quiet Kathmandu - a city that is waiting to se...

On the very first day of 2026, I collected some of the most memorable moments, almost as if the morning shows the day. The good start is a good omen. I have a feeling that it will lead me to a good year ahead. But wait. According to Neil deGrasse Tyson, this day is entirely arbitrary. We celebrate it because we have collectively agreed to do so. It’s culture, not cosmos. He says, “And it is fine.” I agree with him. It is fine. The New Year is a story we tell ourselves. A shared fiction, which is so powerful that we all believe in it. We draw an invisible line in time and say: from here, something begins. Unsurprisingly, it has become a festival. A pause. A reset. A permission slip to start again. And like everyone else, I happily join the pack. I wanted something special from the day. I live by three simple R’s: Running, Reading, and Resting. January 1st feels like it will mirror the year, a full package depending on the single day. The day began with responsibility before ritual. I dr...