Why hate Miley when you can support her!?

Why does everybody keep on poking in Miley Cyrus' life? Why comment if you have nothing good to say? I don't understand why some people keep on bothering about her life when they fail in doing what they; themselves need to do. We should accept the fact that she is a talented young girl who is now emerging into the womanhood of how she wants it to be. It's not how we want her as, which matters. What matters is, what and how she wants to grow up to be. Why bother then? If something she does is bothering you, not looking up to #hashtags of her will help you, I believe. What-so-ever you comment on her, she will be the Miley she is. Your opinions are not needed. Stop complaining and start supporting her. This will help. Why hate her? Why, oh why? I'm sending her loves from across the oceans! xoxo

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INTERVIEW: Lhakyila

Lhakyila is a 17 year old comedienne from Kathmandu, Nepal. She is an 11th-grader, studying Humanities at Rupy’s International School. She makes funny videos and posts these on Instagram, where she currently has more than 5k followers. We sat down together a week back in the very cozy Hello Café in Boudha, Nepal for cups of coffee and some snacks, talked about our lives and her vines. (A vine is a short video, usually 5 to 10 seconds long of compiled clips of random stuff. They are frequently posted on social websites such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter etc.) Our conversation moved from some weird jokes to rather more serious themes. Tenzin Woesel: Hello, I am Tenzin Woesel. I have started a project to interview young talented Tibetans around the globe to make people of the world aware that Tibet is an independent nation and has its own celebrities just like other nations. With this project, I also intend to appreci...

Oh Ruthless Earthquake, Why Must You Come?

When towers stand tall and buildings, firm; when men and women work to earn; when children wear their happy smiles; why must you come and wreck them all? Out of the blue, there you turn up uninvited, unexpected and unforeseen; shake your hips for hardly any seconds, dancing to music; no man hears. The beat you dance to, turns to groans and moans. The humans cry in despair, edifices collapse and souls, crushed. Why must you come when all you cause is harm and hurt? Why must you come when all you cause is sorrow and suffering? Why must you come when all you leave is chaos and corpses? Why must you come when all you leave is destruction and dismay? And in silence you will escape, leaving people relieved but for a while. For the few seconds of your emergence, leaves behind wreckage and ‘SOS’s. Even if we beg you not to return, you will, intending a worse destruction. You’re ruthless, you’re savage, for you, structures are weak; men, weaker.

SHORT STORY (FICTION): How My Grandmother Left Writing Poetry

Some years ago, I visited my grandmother and we went on a long walk to the far end of the village. During our time together, she told me so many stories of her salad-days; I cannot remember all now but one thing that has struck me since then was about how she left writing poetry. I have heard from her friends that my grandmother unlike other girls of her age when she was young, would spend a lot of time alone; meditating on life and sometimes imagining herself to be a bird. “She was always seen with a book and a pen, writing poetry in the fields.”, a friend of hers once told me. “In my early twenties, I was known as ‘the-poet-in-the-making’ in our village.”, my grandmother told me on our walk. “Most of my poems are melancholic for writing poetry had always been an escape for me. It was a friend whom I could turn to when I felt low. I also used to write poems that were beyond the personal. I loved speaking on behalf of the sad people to let know that they were not alone. I wro...

Woesel, Tenzin

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