From Electrons To The Electron People – Sushil Raj Subedi

This life has been so much messed up with so many stuffs. Everyday when waking from the bed at around the late morning everything again seems not at all in right way. Every things is jumbed and unmanaged. Its like yet another day you wake up with the promise to manage all those stuffs.

These days when I am not going anywhere for studying it has to be all alone at home studying for long hours though I have not been able to study for those long hours. It’s a bit frustrating at times that you have to be bounded by some circumstances. Times when we don’t do anything worthy these times are pretty much occupied by the thoughts and most of the time its like you stay wondering with the thought. Sometimes, I think this life is more than studying and gradutaing to get some degree. We have got so much thing to do, I think but I get deccelarated soon by other thoughts and time of decelaration must be near around the time electron stay thinking for jumping outside the atom, but the sad thing is that it was just excited and it has not got enough energy to cross out the atom.

These lonely thoughts that makes me wonder about life is just like electrons being excited being fallen upon by some energy and for me energy to wander some where in the midst of time is the boreness of time that takes me to visit some part of universe for a while. When I wonder about life I wonder about many things though I may get excited as electron does and knowing that the energy is going to exhaust soon. I dream for a while…The some part of me knows still the revolution is left to be brought for the ones whose revolution has always been excited as electrons and perish soon as electron does. I know electron has made enough revolution to change the world but these people made up of electron have always been made down and excited so enough that they have gone dead.

Some part of me knows…not even half of the people of my countries are smiling. They are in tears with the smoke of चुलो and been torn apart by the smoke of चुरोट. Their existence has been brutally killed by the power house of energy. They oxidise the happiness of these people to get energy some where hiding between the spaces of teeth which are there now after the years of bitting and grinding मकै. These people spend most time of their life cultivating मकै and धान. Earning little enough to buy to cover a little large enough body. Sometimes, I get heavily saddened by the thing, will I ever get chance to write the story of these people?

I want to make feel the rest of the population of my country that this percentage of people even exist in the hundred percent of yours but the thing is that you have always used 100 percent as your asset…Some part of me knows…people want love but people are not getting enough…love is something that creates peace…that creates joy…that aspires to love more and more…that deepens people to understand life more. The existence of life lies within the love and it is a life line to the life….Some part of me knows…I can only talk about these things..I am helpless to do anything…I get sometimes surrounded in within the tears knowing that I could only think for those people, those situation and those love.

I wish I could smell them how would they feel knowing that they knew I am writing for them but being helpless. It is so miserable that at the end I was just dreaming at the excited as every electrons get excited and perish soon. My dreams too were in the excited state and I couldn’t jump out of the dream as I am being again pulled off by the harsh reality that backs me off everytime.

I know a day will be there and an electron within my nerve cells will jump one day out of my dream and will enter into the reality. I am in search of electron that encounters my reality. Somepart of me has realized within this frame of writing time I have to stop writing and I can make myself feel guilty all time thinking and wondering about these things. I will always be filled in tears writing for all these if I could not listen their stories and make other know they do exist.

I don’t know why I was born and I am questioning to my existence each and everyday. Who am I? I am in search of this question since long years and I am these days I am getting little half of the question and may the other half be with those poeple whom I want to listen and write. I will again wake up at another late morning realizing that the every morning alarm that alerts me at 6 o’clock will again be turned off by me waking little early and waking again at the late morning.

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