Satish Shrestha (सतिश श्रेष्ठ )

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Archive for September, 2009

Soccer memoir

Posted by Satish Shrestha on September 19, 2009


Though not a good player, I have always loved playing and watching soccer games. I played soccer after ages last night at Mulligan Field with a bunch of friends. It was fun but since I had imbibed a bottle of beer earlier, I had hard time breathing as I ran. So I could not run along with the ball. When I went home after finishing the game, I went through a series of flashback- mostly related to soccer. Since I was rather exhausted last night, I didn’t feel like typing. Now I am typing everything I can remember. This is my attempt to recollect some of those semi-great experiences (to me).

Soccer is probably one of the cheapest thence affordable sports. All one needs is a spherical kickable object. Here, I am not saying one needs a ‘soccer ball’ because that’s not what we played with when I was a kid. We used to kick around inedible grapefruits, empty water bottles, and sometimes even inedible oranges. Anything spherical kickable object was good enough for us to derive the joy of playing soccer. As I grew up, I started tagging along with my older brothers to play with a real soccer ball. Since I was very small and much younger than them, they would not include me in their teams, but still I followed them for quite a while. It was not until in 1998 that I had my own group of friends to play soccer with. World Cup ’98 brought an upheaval in my and my friends’ lives. Fortunately, the national tv station broadcasted most of the games. We were in sixth grade and we were grown enough to understand and realize the beauty of soccer. One of my friends had a real soccer ball by then. However, the neighborhood I grew up was quite congested. And since we had to spend 7 hours in the school at that time, we didn’t get to play everyday. We used to wait for fridays since we used to get half day off. 15 minutes away from the neighborhood was the biggest open field, Tundikhel, in Kathmandu. Because it was the largest open field in the congested city, numerous people of all age groups went there to play mostly soccer and cricket. Since we were bunch of young kids, a tiny part of the field used to be enough for us. Around ten of us would walk there right after school without even changing our uniforms. Ronaldo, Batistuta, Ortega, Zidane, Roberto Carlos, Michael Owen were the biggest names amongst us. We tried to emulate their skills, though too poorly. Apart from playing, we also betted on good matches. We were sixth graders, so what could we bet for? Usually for couple of rupees !

It was june, one of the hottest months in Kathmandu. Regardless of the temperature, we played almost every Fridays and Saturdays. My parents were not happy with me since they were always too worried about my left leg that I fractured three times, of which two were pretty bad and I had to have plasters on. However, I was a brat. We carried on our tradition of playing soccer on Fridays and Saturday for rest of the year until World Cup cricket began in 1999. Then we switched to cricket and ignored soccer. However, we had an epic soccer match in 1999, the beginning of eight grade.

The boys in our class were caught by football fever yet again all of a sudden. Tundikhel still was our hotspot. This incident is rather gross, but I feel like sharing it anyway. Boys from both sections decided to play a match and each interested individual had to pay 5 rupees to sign in. The deal was that the winning team would get all the accumulated money. So each section constructed its own team and we headed to Tundikhel. I was the goal keeper of our team. I do not remember who my team mates were; neither do I remember our opponents on that particular match. But I do remember the referee of the match. With whistle in his mouth and black pair of shorts, he looked almost like a professional referee. I also remember Naresh, another brat of our class, being the defender of our team for the first half of the match. Before the game began, he had his urinary bladder full. So he had to let it out. A big problem in Tundikhel was that the public restroom was too far from there. So instead of running all the way to the public restroom, Naresh managed to let it out in a far corner of our ground (consider a small portion of tundikhel where we played our match as our ground) without letting anyone know. He came back to the team and we started the game. As the game began and started taking its pace, the game took an interesting turn. But I am not talking about the game in here. The funniest part of the game happened when the referee slipped really bad. Naresh started laughing out loud. Now guess what exactly had happened that made Naresh burst with laughter.

Tundikhel- the largest open field in Kathmandu

Tundikhel- the largest open field in Kathmandu

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Serendipitous rendezvous with a Buddhist monk in Spokane

Posted by Satish Shrestha on September 13, 2009


13 Sept, 2009

With a plan to get some homework done, I woke up fairly early on this fine Sunday morning. I got a call from Tana few minutes after I woke up and she informed me about a Buddhist monk originally from Nepal. He was showcasing the art of Mandala at the Unity Church in south hill. With all the zeal I could amass, I told her I would love to go. So we went to the Church together and voila! he was surrounded by bunch of people in the middle of a hall. My sight was first mesmerized by the Thankas hanging on the walls. It was a part of a fund raiser organized by Tibetan Children Education Foundation. They were selling away Thankas and other Tibetan artifacts in order to collect money to help Tibetan children. I got to meet Karma, the executive director of the organization, his wife – both of whom also run an Asian restaurant in Butt, Montana. I had to wait until the mass would leave the monk alone. In the meantime, Tana introduced me to her friends who had been to Nepal in their youths. These ladies know about Nepal more than I do, I guess. They’ve travelled so much! And then I got to meet Carol Waldenberg, who had two Chinese adapted daughters. I had a pleasant conversation with her and she offered me to give a speech in her school. There was no reason for me to reject such a wonderful offer.

Eventually came a conducive situation for me to have a chat with the monk, Peljor Lama. I was rather enthralled to communicate with the monk in Nepali. He is originally from Nepal but is currently affiliated with a monastery in Gangtok, Sikkim. We had a great conversation. He taught me the philosophy behind a Mandala, all in Nepali of course. Then we went for a picnic organized by the church in a nearby park. It was a great picnic, with wonderful people on a wonderful day. While we were eating, a guy started asking questions about Om. It started yet another great topic to talk about. Starting from Om, we proceeded to Taoism and Zen. I enjoyed the fact that these people, though were from the church, were so open to other philosophies. Unlike in south, where most of my Christian friends were preoccupied with evangelical spirit, the Christian people I’ve met so far in the northwest are radically different. They have faith in Christianity as much as my friends in the south do (or may be more), but they are so open to other view points. I am not a follower of any organized religion, but I do love talking about our existence and different concepts of god. But when people try to push their viewpoints to me, I simply walk away. So far, I have not had to walk away in the northwest.

Though the park was beautiful, we could not stay there much longer since the temperature was increasing pretty rapidly. So we walked back to the church and Peljor Lama taught me more about Mandala. I would love to write the philosophy of Mandala, but I don’t think I could be accurate enough putting it into words right away. I surely will write someday soon after reading more about it.

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Louisiana Memoir

Posted by Satish Shrestha on September 13, 2009


June 24, 2009

(you may call it a poem or a bunch of stupid rhymes. Nothing so serious – i just typed everything that came into my mind while recollecting my days in louisiana.)

these two itchy feet stepped in Lake Charles in the summer of 06
hot, humid and isolated – did not enjoy that crazy mix
nonetheless met some great people and had oodles of fun
how can i forget being shot by a bb gun

two months in hammond – still deep south
spent most of the time in lab analyzing noise
great food and music left me openmouthed
after almost a year, finally attained my poise

though i didn’t quite enjoy the place
i can’t lie, I enjoyed its slow pace
good music , good food and good company
my cheap life style didn’t require much money

in the state where chicken is not an animal or a bird
say that’s wrong and they’ll call you a nerd
don’t you worry and relish etouffee, okra, boudin and gumbo
if those’re too spicy, try Raising Cane’s chicken combo

Atchafalaya, Sabine, hundreds of bayous and Toledo bend
all these remind you why you should transcend
so “pull your mouth harp out of your dirty red bandana”*
you’ll will never forget your stay in Louisiana

* ( A verse from janis joplin’s ‘me and my bobby mcgee’)

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Life – a river

Posted by Satish Shrestha on September 12, 2009


(I am taking a class on poetry this fall, i will amend it later as i learn various poetry techniques. )

like a river
i have my ultimate destiny
a river ends in an ocean
my soul shall transcend into ecstasy

flowing down the hills and plains
a river nourishes animals and grains
likewise, i shall serve humanity
that’s been a victim of its own insanity

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X

Posted by Satish Shrestha on September 7, 2009


Sunday, February 10, 2008

I don’t need your fire warmer
Neither am interested in your ice cooler
Don’t turn the world into an oxymoron
I’m sick of your soi-disant divine wisdom
The more you talk about freedom
More I fall into aloof valley of boredom

War for peace-holyshit!!!
I see the world falling into a pit
I’m not amused when I peruse
I see everything you do is of no use
You better wash your hands off your dirty business
s’il vous plaît laissez les bons temps rouler

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