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8 Colours in My Rainbow: Life is All About Living

ЁЯМИ 8 Colours in My Rainbow: Life is All About Living By Laxman Nath “There are seven colours in a regular rainbow. But this is my rainbow. There are eight colours and I’m still counting.” ЁЯМ▒ Beginnings: When Life Was Effortless Life started beautifully, long before I even realized, I was the main character. Psychology tells us there’s a stage in every infant's life when needs are fulfilled without being spoken. I was no exception. But time, as we know, is ever-changing. Slowly, the ease with which we used to receive things faded. We had to struggle. We began to understand the constraints of the world around me and we were constantly tested. I’m sure my younger self went through that, just like everyone else. My growing mind had to absorb unfamiliar ideas. They weren’t easy but they were essential for development and socialization. ЁЯС╢ From Expression to Expectation In my early years, crying probably worked. Then came love or anger to express what I wanted. But as I grew, ...

Refugees who don't meet the criteria of a refugee; a recent form of refuge

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The photo was captured by Narendra Karki/Al Jazeera, used as the cover image for news "Hundreds of Nepalese stuck at India border amid COVID-19 lockdown" In the photo, Nepalese migrant workers are waiting on the Indian side of Nepalese Border across Mahakali River, in the hope of reentering their country from the last three days. " T he Qatari authorities used the global health pandemic of Covid-19 as a cover-up to expel Nepali migrant workers illegally, according to Amnesty International." The Kathmandu Post [1] "Qatar: Migrant workers illegally expelled during COVID-19 pandemic" Amnesty International [2] "Workers returning from India stranded at border points as India-Nepal border closed to prevent spread of coronavirus." Aljazeera [3] If we compare, many were lucky as after waiting for a few days near the   Nepalese border to India or in Gulf Countries or in other parts of the world, they were finally able to cross...

рдоाрдЗрддрдХाे рдзाрди

рдЬेрда рдорд╣िрдиाрдХा рдЙрджेрдХ рд▓ाрдЧ्рджा рджिрдирд╣рд░ू рдеिрдП । рдмाрд░ि рд╕рдо्рдпाрдЙрдиे рдХ्рд░рдордоा рд▓ाрдЧेрдХा рдЧाँрдЙрд▓ेрд╣рд░ू рд╡ेрд▓ा рд╡ेрд▓ाрдоा рдХाेрджाрд▓ाे рдЯेрдХाрдПрд░ рдЕाрдХाрд╢рддिрд░ рд╣ेрд░्рдиे рдЧрд░्рджрдеे, рдЕрдиि рдХрдо्рдорд░рдоा рдмाрджिрдПрдХाे рдкрдЯुрдХाрдХाे рдПрдХ рдЫेрдЙрд▓ाрдЗ рджुрдмै рд╣ाрддрд▓े рд╕рдоाрдПрд░ рдЕрдиुрд╣ाрд░ рднрд░िрдХाे  рдкрд╕िрдиा рдкुрдЫेрд░ рдлेрд░ि рдПрдХрд╕ुрд░рд▓े рдЦрди्рди рдеाрд▓्рджрдеे ।  рд╕рдмैрдЬрд╕ाे рдЧाँрдЙрд▓ेрд╣рд░ू рдЕрд╕ाрд░े рдзाрдирдХाे рдмेрд░्рдиा рдЫрд░्рдиे рддрдпाрд░ीрдоा рд▓ाрдЧेрдХाे рдк्рд░рд╕्рдЯ рд╣ुрди्рде्рдпाे । рдЧाँрдЙрднрд░िрдХाे рд╕рдмैрднрди्рджा рдлुрд░्рд╕рджिрд▓ाे рд╡्рдпрдХ्рддि рдо рдиै рдеिрдП рднрди्рджा рдлрд░рдХ рдкрджैрдирде्рдпाे, рдорд╕рдЧं рди рдЦрди्рдирдХाрд▓ाрдЧी рдмाрд░ि рдеिрдпाे рдирдкाрд▓्рдирдХाрд▓ाрдЧी рдкрд░िрд╡ाрд░ рдиै । рдд्рдпाे рд╕рдмै рдоैрд▓े рдЕрддिрдердоा рдЫाрдбेрд░ рдЕाрдПрдХाे рдеिрдП рдоेрд░ा рдХрд▓्рдкрдиाрд╣рд░ूрдХाे рдЕрдз्рдпाрд░ाेрдоा рдоेрд░ाे рдкрд╣ुрдЪ рднрди्рджा рдЯाрдвा । рдЧाँрдЙрдоा рдордЬрддिрдХाे  рдлुрд░्рд╕рджिрд▓ाे рдПрдХ рдоाрдд्рд░ рдЕрд░्рдХाे рд╡्рдпрдХ्рддि рд╣ुрдиुрд╣ुрди्рде्рдпाे рдмिрд░्рдЦрдоाрди् рджाрдЗ। рдд्рдпाे рджिрди рдо рдЙрд╣ाँрдХाे рдШрд░рдкुрдЧ्рджा рдиाрдо्рд▓ाेрднрд░ि рдзाрди рд░ाрдЦेрд░ рдкिрдбिрдоा рдмрд╕ि рд╣ुрдХ्рдХा рддाрди्рджै рд╣ुрдиुрд╣ुрди्рде्рдпाे । рдоैрд▓े рдкुрдЧ्рдиे рд╡िрддिрдХ्рдХै рдХाैрддुрд╣рд▓ рднрдПрд░ рдмिрд░्рдЦрдоाрди् рджाрдЗрд▓ाрдЗ рдзाрди рдХेрдХा рд▓ाрдЧी рд╣ाे рднрдиेрд░ рд╕ाेрдзे । рдмिрд░्рдЦрдоाрди् рджाрдЗрд▓े рдЕрд▓ि рднाрд╡ुрдХ рд╣ुрджै рднрди्рдиु рднाे рдЧाैрддрдоीрд▓ाрдЗ рд╡िрд╣े рдЧрд░ि рдЕрди्рдоाрдПрд░ рдпाे рдШрд░рдоा рд▓्рдпाрдЙрджाे рджुрдЗ рдЕрди्рдЬुрд▓ि рдЬрддि рдоाрдЗрддрдХाे рдзाрди рд▓्рдпाрдПрдХि рдеिрдЗ । рдЙрдиीрд▓े рдЪाрд░ рдорд╣िрдиा рдЬрддि рдд्рдпाे рдкाेрдХाे рд╢िрд░ाрдирдоाрдеी рдиै рд░ाрдЦिрди्рд╣ाेрд▓ा, рдЬрдм рдд्рдпाे...

рд▓ाрдХो рдмेрд▓ा рдкिрд╢ाрд╡ рдЧрд░्рдирдкрдиि рдЧाрд╣्рд░ो рдЫ рджेрд╢рдоा।

реирежремрен рд╕ाрд▓рдоा рдХाрдардоाрдбौं рдкрд╕्рдиे рдмेрд▓ा рдЬрдирд╕ंрдЦ्рдпा рдЕрд╣िрд▓े рднрди्рджा рдеोрд░ै рдеिрдпो, ренрем рд╕ाрд▓ рдЖрдЗрдкुрдЧ्рджा рдоाрди्рдЫेрд╣рд░ुрдХो рд╕ंрдЦ्рдпा рдмрдв्рдпो рддрд░ рд╕ुрд▓рдн рд╢ौрдЪाрд▓рдп рднрдиे рдмрдвेрдирди् । рд╕рд░рдХाрд░рд▓े рдЦुрд▓ा рдаाँрдЙрдоा рдкिрд╢ाрд╡ рдЧрд░्рди рдиिрд░ुрдд्рд╕ाрд╣िрдд рдЧрд░्рдирдХाрд▓ाрдЧी рднिрдд्рддा рднिрдд्рддाрдоा рднрдЧрд╡ाрди्рдХो рдлोрдЯो рдкрдиि рдЯाрд╕्рдпो, рдаुрд▓ा рдаुрд▓ा рдЕрдХ्рд╖рд░рд▓े рдЪेрддाрд╡рдиी рдкрдиि рд▓ेрдЦ्рдпो рд░ рдЦुрд▓ा рджिрд╕ाрдкिрд╢ाрд╡рдоुрдХ्рдд рдХ्рд╖ेрдд्рд░рдкрдиि рдШोрд╖рдгा рдЧ¥рдпो рддрд░ рд╕ुрд▓рдн рд╢ौрдЪाрд▓рдп рднрдиे рдмрдиाрдПрди । рдШोрд╖рдгा рдЬेрд╕ुрдХै рдЧрд░िрдПрддा рдкрдиि рдЪेрддाрд╡рдиी рдЬेрд╕ुрдХै рд▓ेрдЦिрдПрддा рдкрдиि рдЬुрдирд╕ुрдХै рдаाँрдЙрдоा рдЬुрдирд╕ुрдХै рд╕рдордпрдордоा рдЬोрд╕ुрдХै рд╡्рдпрдХ्рддिрд▓ाрдИ рдкिрд╢ाрд╡ рд▓ाрдЧ्рдирд╕рдХ्рдЫ । рдкिрд╢ाрд╡ рд▓ाрдЧेрдкрдЫिрдХो рдЙрдкाрдп рд╕рдмैрдХो рдПрдЙрдЯै рд╣ुрди्рдЫ, рдлрд░рдХ рдпрддि рд╣ो рдд्рдпो рдХрд╣िрд▓े рд╣ाрдо्рд░ो рдиिрдпрди्рдд्рд░рдгрдоा рд╣ुрди्рдЫ рдХрд╣िрд▓े рд╣ुрджैрди । рд╕्рд╡ाрд╕्рде्рдпрдХै рджृрд╖्рдЯ्рд░िрдХोрдгрд▓े рд╣ेрд░्рдиे рд╣ो рднрдиेрдкрдиि рджैрдиिрдХ рд░ुрдкрдоा рджुрдИ рд▓िрдЯрд░рд╕рдо्рдо рдкाрдиी рдк्рдпुрдиु рдкрд░्рдЫ рд░ рд╕्рд╡ाрд╕्рде्рдп рд╡्рдпрдХ्рддिрд▓े рдФрд╕рдд рд░ुрдкрдоा рдЖрдзी рд▓िрдЯрд░рдЬрддि рдкिрд╢ाрд╡ реирек рдШрдг्рдЯाрдоा рдлाрд▓्рдиुрдкрд░्рдиे рд╣ुрди्рдЫ । рдпрджि рд╕рдордп рд╕рдордпрдоा рдпрд╕ो рдирдЧрд░्рдиे рд╣ो рднрдиे рдоिрд░्рдЧौрд▓ा, рдоुрдд्рд░рдирд▓ी, рдоुрдд्рд░рдеैрд▓ीрдХा рд╕рдорд╕्рдпाрд╣рд░ु рд▓рдЧाрдпрддрдХा рдЕрди्рдп рд╕्рд╡ाрд╕्рде्рдп рд╕рдорд╕्рдпाрд╣рд░ु рджेрдЦिрди рд╕рдХ्рджрдЫрди् । рддрд░ рдХे рдЧрд░्рдиु рдд्рдпрддि рд╣ुрджा рд╣ुрджैрдкрдиि рд▓ाрдХो рдмेрд▓ाрдоा рдкिрд╕ाрдм рдЧрд░्рдирдкрдиि рдЧाрд╣्рд░ो рдЫ рджेрд╢рдоा । рдХेрд╣ी рд╕рдордп рдЕрдШिрд╕рдо्рдо рдд рдШुрдо्рддी рд╢ौрдЪाрд▓рдпрдХो рдЙрдкрд▓рдм्рдзрддाрд▓े рд╡рд╕рди्рддрдкुрд░ рд▓рдЧाрдпрддрдХा рдХेрд╣ी рдХ्рд╖ेрдд्рд░...

The bloody Valentine

On one fine evening of the late winter, Mr. Raman and we were sitting in the same old place, a small tea shop with few scattered chairs, two patio umbrella tables, an old dustbin in the corner which was less filled with the waste than the corner itself and a busy kettle over the stove with brownish black stain of tea on one side. Overall, it was a cool place to hang out with buddies after a busy schedule of the day. There was not much left of the evening as on sidewalk peopl e were rushing homes to escape cold night falling soon but a mild lighted butcher shop and a bright liquor distributor on the other side of the road were still busy and counting. After a couple of teas and few clouds of smoke, we were still deep into a discussion and guess, what was all discussion about? the bloody Valentine Day as it was February 10. There was particularly no one seems to be desperately waiting for the Valentine as far as I was believing yet out of courtesy Valentine Day was a much-discusse...

A good philosopher

The day before yesterday one of my friends had smartly started a discussion about why a person should marry? Putting his point he referenced one of the greatest thinkers,, Mr. Socarates and said "Socrates once said "At least once, a man should marry if he is lucky he will have a great prosperous life. And even if he is not so lucky, he will be a good philosopher or something like that". Saying all that he proudly sit down on the chair nearby. Abruptly, one from the circle aske d "Raman, you are married too, What are you?" Relaxing his proud shoulder, taking a long sip of tea and puffing a big cloud of smoke he replied in a kind of sad tone "Can't you figure out, I am a philosopher as most of the married men are" The table burst out in big laughter but sadness in their eyes was quite visible.

A silly achievement

Mr. Raman is a science geek. He often likes to put down his bright ideas on the tea table. Which obviously we all find difficult to understand but rarely we argue on the legitimacy of the point as it often leads to more confusing statements. We usually nod our head immediately to convey we understand and agree on the point he put forward. After that, we try to figure out what it really means over a couple of coffee and a few boxes of smoke. Interestingly, most of the time I l eave the tea table confused and cursing my friend from school who always somehow used to convince me to bunk my science classes. On one fine day over a tea talk, Raman in his usual manner put both hands on the table not caring of the ashes and drops of tea, lean his body towards us as some kind of centripetal force is working on him and with a sense of excitement in his voice said "Do you people know the certainty of uncertainty depends upon its certainty, not on its uncertainty". As usual, we noded...