My tears are not so cheap
There is no counting of the times I have cried - Sometimes even not knowing why.
I remember crying, actually following my sister,
when the doctor gave up on my mother.
My father asked why was I crying and since I did not know,
I looked at my sister.
Mother survived but I never forgot the scene.
I remember some drops falling when I was with my friends offering flowers to BP Koirala.
I was not educated enough to understand why this person was important.
May be I cried because that was the first time I had come across a dead body.
But I cried with full awareness when the Maoists killed my friend, Mukti Adhikari.
I had also cried for Basu
when blood was oozing out of his ears with a police boot in his chest.
He was convicted of supporting democracy.
I think my eyes are dry now.
When I read the headlines of how the Gurkhas are killed in Russia-Ukraine war, actually fighting for Russia,
I have no tears to shed.
Nobody is forcing you to be a vigilante and die for the other
when you are incapable of dying for your own nation.
I am not a nationalist like you are.
I love Nepal but I do not love the vigilantes.
Yesterday you have died for the Brits and tomorrow you will die for Palestine, or whatever.
And you will cover headlines.
And do not expect tears in my eyes. For my eyes are dry crying for my neighbor.
This poor lady lost her cat.