Mother, I sense your soul. These few words express empathy towards a nation where dreams do begin but surprisingly never seem to cease where love flows like rivulets from the Himalayas and reach out hearts, where endurance has survived pain, and hands filled with love have pushed the nation on a track of peace and harmony. Peace and harmony that have emerged out of struggle, reflecting that peace that is seen in the silent and forbearing eyes of the god man named Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha whose holy feet touched the dust of this nation many centuries ago.

The sight of Everest touching the sky is like hands of the Nepalese people moving forth into eternal space to hold and embrace the stars.

"Oh, Nepal, Oh, nation of ours, may these hands of ours, may these hands of ours belong to eternities and may eternity blossom like flowers as these hands unfold to captures the spaces of silence and state of Nirvana.

The process of denouement is slow but steady; the city lights are dazzling and sense of loneliness prevails in narrow streets where night rules. The people are almost dead to the world but Nepal is awake as ever.

Time moves in a horizontal line, from A to B, B to C, C to D but awakening moves in a vertical line, from A to deeper A, from deeper A to even deeper A and so on. For an awakened nation these is no past and no future, only present exists for it.

Awareness or the awakening of consciousness through meditation is the awakening of a mankind and path towards Buddha hood. The awakening of every Nepalese is the awakening of the Nepalese society. Complete mass or a community living and moving in the present just deeper and deeper in a vertical motion.

"Take me to far away country where grief lingers no more......"

An awakened community is an aware and meditative community, a basis of emptiness and establishment of that faraway country.

But a mass can’t be enlightened, each drop of water makes up the ocean, one Buddha after another makes up a community of Buddha’s

The mountains go zigzag finally disappearing into time. That time which only exists in your mind in your imagination and in your wall clock. Everything exists in the present, and that present moves from one point to another point steadily and quickly.

It is a love affair, an affair of one night stand, between a country and its people. The people can sense something or almost touch it: perhaps it is the soul of a nation, which they are dandling with their imagination.

Imagine you have been stabbed in the chest, a moment and the dragger is to be plunged deep into your heart. Suddenly you are alert and your reaction is in tune with the moment, or suddenly it is as though you and the moment are one present has arisen out of no where and past and future have vanished like shadows.

In a similar situation our country stands and the people are reacting in an instant as though the instant and the reaction have merged into one cry for peace, stability and pathway for hope.

Hope floats even in a sea of complete uncertainty and tears just because the pain is there, the country is consciously moving in a vertical motion – from a deeper anguish in her bosom and the future stir blurred. Let a nation up rise as her people sway in search of a bay.

Let love finds its way, let the sun shine through the clouds and let the rain cease.

The delicate sounds of a song are echoing within their hearts, which have resemblance to many voices of the night. They close their eyes and softly whisper. "Mother, I sense your soul"

The faraway hills seem to have heard them, but they seem to resist the temptation to speak back: surely they are not without a voice, there is a voice if silence with in that resistance.

These voices and these songs of the Nepalese people altogether seem to re- quicken the cosmic pulsation.
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