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Tough going for Nepali students in Australia

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Nepali students in Australia are vulnerable and are undergoing harshest of physical work, financial crisis, academic pressure  and mental stress I’ve spent more than half my life living away from Nepal. Although my experience of family dynamics in Nepal was very limited at the time when I left Nepal, I’ve learnt so much of the volatility of the culture-drenched family dynamics of Nepali people living abroad mostly through my line of work and through friends and relatives.  In seven years that I have facilitated and taught university students in Sydney, I have only recently had the opportunity to mentor Nepali students. As an integral part of the curriculum, all students undertaking Bachelors of Nursing or Fast-track Masters in Nursing degrees in Australia have to partake in compulsory training placements in different hospitals/clinical settings in order to pass their skill competencies and complete their degree. During these hospital training (clinical placements), as pa
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Unseen Demons

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Every time memes and messages about how parents are great or something similar flashes on my timeline or social media space, I shudder. Not because my parents weren’t great but because my relationship with my sole parent has become so toxic that I’ve cut ties with her. To be fair, I have assumed my share of responsibilities towards her. I have made mistakes just like any human does. She’s had a fair share of trials and trepidations too. Despite all those emotionally bonding crests and troughs, it has left our relationship toxic instead. I’m not the only offspring that has undergone such toxic battle with parents, though. So many friends and people I know have shared similar plights. Especially when they are dealing with controlling and toxic parents or in-laws. Unsolicited interference in children’s relationship, unreasonable pressure and demands, favouritism to one child, unfair treatment, taking sides of certain children etc. could be one of many reasons that distances children
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We need to admit to mistakes and apologise as parents

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When I watched the movie “Ladybird”, I was expecting to relate myself to the rebellious teenager of the movie. Strangely though, I was left feeling exasperated when I related more to the mother of the protagonist. After watching this movie, I realised that parents rarely admit their mistakes. It’s very very rare that they even have an insight into how their upbringing, their actions, their gestures, their haughtiness, their words might have a negative impact on their children. Of course no parents deliberately try to hurt their kids but lack of admittance, lack of open communication and lack of insight into the effect they have on their kids can very much instigate silent rebellion in their children. Sometimes their relationship becomes irrevocably sour, often times, it remains indifferent or neutral.  I felt utterly sorry for the teenager for feeling the way most teenagers do. Desperate to get her mothers approval, made to feel ungrateful, struggling to fit in, fighting
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Raising issues on divorce, remarrying and step-parenting in the context of Nepalese culture

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This is just scratching the surface and it was absolutely vital that someone started a conversation regarding this. I’ve heard, seen, witnessed and first-hand experienced an unthinkable wrath from Nepali people in Australia towards people who simply choose to end a relationship. Divorce involves two people and therefore it should invariably be their choice and decision, and it should be an amicable procedure just like marriage is (unless there’s abuse and violence involved). But Nepali society, regardless of where they are (be it Australia or Nepal) have traditionally only pointed fingers at women divorcees, thus making it a taint that lasts a lifetime. Divorcees of Nepali decent have been spat on, abandoned and shamed by the intertwined circle of friends and family. Unless and until Nepali people consider the issue of divorce as a normal course of life for couples who deem it irrevocable, question of remarrying cannot be addressed. A society that doesn’t see divorce as a pro
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Being an Outcast

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Ushma's Memoir :  Being an Outcast  It is my journey of coming of age; it’s a saga of being an o utcast and yet creating a niche  in a land I now call my home.  It’s my story of growing up defunct , battling abuse and  defeating depression . I had many hurdles in life, like everybody else,  and I will elaborate on those hurdles later in my narrative ,  but some life-changing incidents redefined me in  ways I never thought possible, especially as a woman.   I have blurred recollection of me growin g up in Kathmandu, my supposed  homeland, but what is vivid in  those scant blurred memories is  the influential positivism our father instilled in us.  They remain vivid and valid because I did not let his words of wisdom fade even after  all these years  since  his untimely and unexpected demise when my twin and I were just six years old.   Maybe  I remember dad’ s words distinctly because  we were meant to remember whatever  he said to us during his short time  spent with us,
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Raising a feminist son

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I’ve stumbled across many parents who say they don’t know how to raise a boy who is a feminist but then almost everyone seems to know what they want in son-in-laws. So I’m raising a son my future daughter-in-law will thank me for, I’m raising a son who everyone will want as their son-in-law. My son knows what periods are, he knows the pain & the PMS. He knows how to gently rub tummies that hurt during menstrual cramps and he knows to apply heat packs to the backs that ache; he is extremely good at back, shoulder and head massage for the tired souls; he knows how to support and hold up a sick person, never backing off from the pungent vomit odour; he knows to pack lunches and to grill & bake few things; he has his own few signature dishes that we love! He knows what “CONSENT” means and that NO means “NO”!! Every Friday after school, my son does all the laundry and hangs out all the clothes, he folds them too. It’s my son’s job to vacuum the home. He knows how to clean
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Broken Mirror

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                                                  Someone could easily impale themselves and die on those loosely scattered tiny shards on the floor. Mya slowly turns her gaze away from the floor. She is benumbed and just a meter away from it. She rests her eyes on him without giving away any emotions. It is hard to tell whether he is getting angrier or pacified from her listless twisted face. She wishes that those shards laid closer to him.  Few hours have gone by when Akshya finally opens his eyes and feels the room spinning around him. No signs of life, he thinks. He could smell the pungent smell of his own dried blood, he could taste the putrid saltiness of it in the corner of his toothless left cheek. He shrugs off the heaviness from his drooping face.  Mya feels tightness in the pit of her stomach when she hears him shuffle. Two inches, just two inches away from him lay the shards of a broken mirror. She recounts the final moments of her life just then and gives a h
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