Kamala Sarup

Poet Writes For The Moment / Kamala B Sarup

Dubasu Chhetri

Dr. Dubasu Chhetri's work  'Aswomedh Yagya ka Ghodaharu'‚ an anthology of poems is beautiful. In these turbulent times, many writers reveal more about their likes and dislikes rather than the causes and effects of current events. But a poet Dubasu Chhetri is different.  He writes more about the causes and effects of  life and society.  His poems defines the life method, explains how it differs from other knowledge and wisdom.


Poet Dinesh Adhikari's Poetry gives Expression / Kamala B Sarup

Dinesh AdhikariA famous Nepali poet Dinesh Adhikari has written for motion pictures, lyrics and has produced ten solo music albums. Dinesh Adhikari's poems are full of feelings, and love. In every creation, he always prefer to experiment in terms of using new thought.

The day following my wedding
We set out on a walk
The sky, in turmoil, turned gray
And clouds began to thunder
And the rain began to pour
Not a place in sight nearby
For shelter from the rain


Life is a beautiful memory and it's a living memory

Dubasu Chhetri writes to protect human relationship like T.S. Eliot did, Like Devkota did or Rabindranath Tagore did. He added. "There are poets. They always have a great human respect for my life. My all time favorite writers are Devkota, Shakespeare and Frost. I also like the writing of many contemporarywriters". Dubasu has varied themes in his work such as freedom, peace and love.


Journey, had traveled the roads / Kamala B. Sarup

Had traveled the roads,
And hills,
Nights and Morning
Emotional and
Journey, day for a long time.
Night for a long time,
Journey, had begun
Had traveled the roads
As I feel,
The truth,
It is each other fully.
With roads,
A cold weather is blowing.
Long out walking.
And I am sitting on the window.
The moon and the
Trees are shaking
Flower is smiling,
My life,
Many things of life.
The existence of life


Poems Will Remain United (Woman Power)/ Kamala B Sarup

"Kamala, who is knocking at the door?" my aunt asked. I was then in Jhapa, Nepal during the last of May. She began to drink water from the pot and took a long breath. "How can I know who is at the door?" I said.

I was cooking rice. I found no time to see that the wood was not burning because it was too wet. "Perhaps they are maternal uncle and cousin, who want to stay here for the night," she said as she stepped down the stair carrying clothes, smiling at me.