For The Love of Coffee

There’s something ravishing about the bond she shares with coffee. It is as strong as the coffee she prefers. She has coffee on her mind and coffee on her checklist. It tops the list of the things she should never leave. She falls for it time and again for making her day beautiful in every little way it could. From the prayers she says before the first sip of the day's first coffee, to finding months-old stains of dripped coffee on her favourite notepad; she loves every bit of how the addictive drink has to do with her sober life. She laughs at how she slurps her coffee and how the thick and foamy milk stays on her upper lips like a moustache. She loves the strong aroma coming from the rich coffee that fills her surrounding and how the bitter yet sweet flavour always has a way with her. She is in love with coffee a little too much; she at times, even dreams of spending the rest of her life in a café and nowhere else.

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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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