Good looking people are usually more confident. Let’s say - those who think they are beautiful are more at ease than those who are not much elated by their appearance. But the later ones must rethink.
My experience has taught me that a lot of people have illusion about their looks including myself. The idea of beauty differs with each person. Some people think themselves beautiful even though many others do not think the same about them. And there are some who doubt honest compliments about their beauty. And there are very few who take it as a non-issue. And in many ways it’s relieving to be the former kind and just believe that you are charming.
A smiling face is a pretty face, likewise, a happy face is a beautiful face moreover a humble face is an appealing face. Who can deny it? But still if we talk about the facial feature alone, how can we ever make out how we really look? Is it possible to collect any authentic account regarding the look? Even if that is made somehow, doesn’t it need very quick updates? Go on to do this but just to discover that beauty is one of the most controversial and unreliable issues.
Many in my circle think that fair skin is a boon and they easily empty their pockets while it comes to buying ‘fair and lovely’. Of course their anxiety is that they want farer skin, which is an absolute victory of none but the very stupid cosmetic commercials or the cosmetic giants.
Many fail to realize that complexion is not always an issue. Why don't we in out every day life come across hundreds of people who despite their non-fair complexion are beautiful. Some due to their twinkling eyes, some because of their cute smile, some owe it to their soft skin; and some with the best combination of all such features, all of those beauty-seekers look charming in one or the other way with their own rather dark complexion. And there are fair group of people with similarly attractive features. Comparing one another and rating them in terms of looks is not only impractical but absurd as well.
The stars from the glamorous world look commonly appealing which might hint that rating people in terms of beauty is not so hard or unreasonable. But isn't it only because of the created image that the likes of Angelina Jolie or Ashwarya Rai spoil the rooms of many young lads while they appear in big posters (and don’t forget the special effects)? Without which who knows if they would be able to influence even their locals. The face that appeals to me might repulse you and there’s where all the fuzziness lies.
While I was in Tri Chandra College during my graduate level a friend of mine started liking the big eyes of one guy with whom she recently tied the knot.
She always found him and especially his eyes very attractive for the reason we, her friends, never understood. We had named him pumpkin due to his dull feature. In addition, he was nearly an inch shorter than her.
So while talking about beauty the fever of love is what gives you the most wonderful eyes. No matter whoever laughs at your choice but you’ll be spending time with the most attractive person on earth until you two marry one day and both of you suddenly awake, face to each other, and politely admit “ Yes love is so blind!" However, with time, you’ll begin to realize that there’s nothing like beauty and ugliness in one’s face. That totally depends on whether the person is favorable to you or not.

In the selection “Mommy, what does ‘Nigger’ mean?” Gloria Naylor seems to be saying about the skin color discrimination and the psychological impact towards dark skinned colored community. In the first part of the selection, the writer brings his own example by sharing his bitter experience while he was a kid. He notices that the discrimination to dark skinned people is everywhere and, he is not the only one who is facing the problem and having difficulty listening to that word. Next, as he grows up he notices several changes on him in accordance with the time. The writer seems to have adjusted about whatever he heard and getting used to it. Finally, the writer expresses his sadness and his concern towards the word that is often used by the civilized society. The point Gloria Naylor seems to be making is, due to the misconduct of some dark skinned people such as fighting in public. In addition, avoiding the parameters of decency are some of the reasons why dark skinned people are looked differently and everyone faces the difficulties aftermath of these acts. This point is best summed up when the writers explains about the difficulties the dark skinned color man could face such as unemployment, discrimination at the work area and frustration.
In other words, the writer is equally concerned about the word itself and the people who take it for granted. This point seems to be directed towards, the liberal people of the white society who respect the human values. This point seems to apply all around the world especially in those areas where there is an anti-black thought and people spit the words more frequently. It applies even when people think of these words and when they are said. I think every citizen; every home and every nation should take the initiative for eradicating not only the word “Nigger” but also discrimination towards these people.

I wrote a poem last week. Even though I wrote it I can't claim it to be mine. As I had written in response to someone else's poem. I don't have enough words to express my gratitude to the poet for writing a poem a beautiful that it brought out response form a naïve like me. I felt as though the character he was referring to was non other than me and I could
not retain myself from replying to him.
Words can't express the feeling I had while writing the poem. I was in cloud nine then. The first time I went through the poem I could find no problem.
Thinking it was errorless I submitted it. But when the time came for me to write my name I was self-conscious. Hence I remained anonymous. Then I found mistakes with every reading the mistakes increased tenfold. Now I want to rewrite the entire poem. But there this sweet, warmth that I feel every time I go through my poem that makes it impossible for me to rewrite it.
Here goes my poem –
Anonymous said...
You got it
Terribly wrong

If you had but
Allowed me

In your field of vision
For a while long

You would have
Heard the correct version

For I had told my friend
I would gladly
Surrender the rest
Of my life
To be fed

With nothing but
Your lovely poems

Lessons Learnt by a Blabbermouth
If different members of my family were ministers of varying department, I’d definitely be in charge of the Ministry of Pediatrics (read: feet) and Screw-Ups. I manage to blurt out stupid things that I’m quite sure my siblings don’t even think (let alone say).
Do I need my sister’s help in running my Ministry? No thank you, K* P* can embarrass herself and seriously tick off other people in the process without any outside help, don’t you worry!
The thing is, I know when I mess up, as soon as the little words slip out of my mouth. The cure is as simple as my mother, my 5th grade teacher, and my friend Payal claim: to think before I speak. (i.e. I need to learn to put a stop sign in front of messages traveling from my brain to my mouth.) Every time? I groan inwardly.
Evidently, yes. At least, till I get the hang of biting that bloody tongue! I know when I’m wrong, and I’m not ashamed to apologize. But the fact of the matter is, I’d save myself a lot of embarrassment and anguish, and I’d save the people around me a heap of irritation if I just stopped. Paused.
Thought. And then spoke. I know how to laugh at myself, yes, which is apparently quite important. The moral of faux-pas-slip-ups seems to be this:
Don’t take yourself too much in earnest, but do take the other person seriously.

Expat Brat Returns - Kabita Parajuli

This will be the true story of a Nepali. Not just that of an expat* Nepali, because there are thousands of those, and not even just that of a baby-to-kid-to-teenager expat Nepali who has spent her entire life out of Nepal, but the story of one who came back. Haha, that sounds funny, doesn’t it? One who came back – oooooh, ominous. Before I embark on my journey of life in Nepal, and before you embark on your journey of reading about my life here, I think I should introduce myself, because that might help explain my reactions to things later. The basics, first. I was born in Rome, Italy to a Gorkhali mother (who was also born in Rome, and also grew up outside of Nepal, but is adamantly Gorkhali), and to a father from Koteswor who was born and grew up in Nepal and then went to Uni in India. I have lived in Rome (4 ½ years), Kathmandu (5 months), Maputo (2 ½ years), Dhaka (3 years), Jakarta (4 glorious years), and Cairo (2 seriously roller coaster-like years). I spend my summers and quite a few winters in Nepal. I have always gone to international schools, each of which has a language and culture unto itself. I am a feminist, pro-peace, pro-thinking and acting, passionate about defending human and animal rights, and a vegetarian. Before you start making assumptions about me, I will add that I am a brown belt in karate, I run, I play tennis (ok. Fine. I try to play tennis), and I love to read, write, and sweat. I like colours and chocolate. Many shades of pink are an accident of the colour spectrum. My bébé (a.k.a. my dog Suku, who would have turned 11 on August 20^th this year) was dognapped in April earlier this year. Losing her was one of the hardest things that’s happened to me.
Enough of that. I doubt it told you anything about me, anyway.
This year, I finished 12^th grade. I survived college searching, college applications, and deciding on a college. Unlike many of my friends, I didn’t start thinking about university from my first day of high school – a fact that makes me extraordinarily happy. After all that brain-killing decision making, though, I decided I had to think about another option, one that’s quite popular in England and in other places in Europe, but less so in the US: taking a gap year before Uni. I went for the plunge, and here I am in Nepal, my national-home, planning on a year of work and volunteer work. Although I was initially apprehensive about a gap year (won’t I forget everything I learnt at school? Will I find it harder to make friends? What if all my plans for this year go kaput? If I take a year off, I won’t get to graduate at the same time as all my friends!), I am already quite sure that this was the right plan. When else would I get to just take a break from school and my outside life, just like that? When else would I get to live in Nepal before becoming an adult? When else would I get to spend a year planning and working on service stuff, quite so easily? Probably never.
So this is about my year here. About the people I meet, the things I do (upcoming: expect reports from life at a southeast Asian magazine and at a youth magazine; life as a Bhutanese refugee; things about kids, dogs, smells, and food). From writing, I’ll get a chance to reflect and laugh about what I’m doing, and you’ll get to laugh with (and at) me and, hopefully, get to thinking about what you’re doing with your life.
M’a salaama.