Avaya Shrestha

Avaya Shrestha is a powerful Nepali poet, well known for his subversive, rebellous, anti conformist and thought provoking poetry. One of the most promising few young Nepali poets, he hails from Kathmandu, the capital city of Nepal. Though, he writes originally in Nepali, his works have been appeared in Enlish, Hindi and Newari also. Also known as short story author, political journalist and columnist, he has three books to his credit, including Phul Binako Sakha and Kayakalpa (both anthologies of poetry ) and Tesro Kinara (an anthology of short stories). Born in 1972, he has received several recognitions and awards including Balkumari Risal Memorial Journalism Award, 2018, Garima Best Prose Award 2013, Best Creation Award in Prahari Bimonthly, 2009 BS, Nepal Academy Short Story Award 2005 for best short story and Dristi Weekly Columnist Honour 2009. He has worked as a Reporter and Feature Editor for different national dailies of Nepal. His column Satyakura is popular among Nepali readers.

(From Sangam, Contemporary Nepali Poetry in Translation, Translated and Introduced by Haris Adhikari)

The evening Kathmandu had gone sombre

The evening Kathmandu had gone sombre
Wide streets were suddenly narrowed
Falling were the marching tall Kalki trees
Concrete buildings were rising high
Kicking the heritage site
But silent and approving was Dharahara, the old tower

The evening Kathmandu had gone sombre
Rriver Bagmati and Bishnumati were, alas, frozen
Halting the flow of their own
Melancholy, all all melancholy were the temples and inn
And only smoke of marijuana was exhaling
Gods and goddesses were fleeing to Muglan, the foreign land
inside the temple
Restlessly flapping were the pigeons hit by bullets
And the hymn of the hunters
The religious houses were singing aloud

The evening Kathmandu had gone sombre
After abruptly reviving through his statue
Juddha Shumsher, the brute, was running
Like a wind towards the east
Dancing violently was his military sword
Going maniac, his horse was running over people's backs
At the gate of Singh Durbar, the state house
Many sychophants were competing to carry his highness
Ahead of and behind him were those people
Walking, cheering, rejoicing
Who were busy at the daytime
To deliver sharp speeches against despotism

The evening Kathandu had gone sombre
Assassinated brutally was the ultimate truth
With faces fresh blood smeared over
The wolves were walking freely
And the Home Ministry was enjoying the fun show
Singh Durbar was all all silent in approval
Legislators were debating upon the figure of new Miss Nepal
But the arms of the clock of Ghantaghar, the clock tower
was stopped
And closed were the eyes of Swoyambhunath, the Budhist God
And hanging upside down on the branches of pine trees
Vampire bats were applauding this national drama
Fluttering their wings

The evening Kathmandu had gone sombre
The dream lovers themselves
Were butchering the dream.

Translated from Nepali by Binod Bikram KC



My Voice | Poetry At Our Time | In The Name Of Poetry | Editor's Choice | Our Masters
Who We Are | Back Issues | Submission | Contact Us | Home