What’s the Point? (Part Three)

Bishwas and the Lady

“What nonsense!” the lady snapped at me. She had sounded cheerful before but now she was furious. Why this sudden change of mood?

“You misinterpreted my fury as excitement,” she said. I was finding it difficult to believe her as she continued, “I wanted to see if there is somebody else who finds his catchphrase pretentious. I came here to punch him on his face for what he did. But you’re just praising him. You’re so naive. No wonder he tricked you into believing he is good. You don’t know him at all. He is a man with zero commitment. He never keeps his promises. Does not even try. It’s so ironic that you saw bravery in that coward. “

“Calm down, please. What happened? Why are you so bitter against him?”

“If you’d been in my place, you’d have been bitter too.”

“Oh, is that so? Tell me your story then.”

“It’s not the story I want to share with a stranger but I will tell you.”

The lady narrated her side of the tale–

After I completed my SLC, I convinced my parents and came to this City of Dreams to continue my studies. The money my parents sent was never enough. So, I started to work at a restro as a singer. It was not easy to work there. Drunk men with lustful intentions scared me everyday. But as it was helping me in paying rent and fees and I had trouble finding another job, I could not leave it.

Life was continuing in this mundane way until Bishwas came to me after the end of my singing session that Christmas evening, and said, “I have seen you before, haven’t I?”

Because that’s one of the most cliched ways to talk to a stranger, I didn’t give much attention but as soon as he took the name of my college and said, “I have seen you there”, my eyes widened.

“I go there myself,” he said adding more to my shock. I had never seen him before. Neither here, nor in the college. Could he have been stalking me? I was shaking from inside.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

I tried to speak but no word escaped my throat. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I had no intention of doing that. I came here with my friends for the first time and we all thought you were familiar. That’s why I came to talk.”


“He does not sound bad to me,” I could not stop myself from commenting.

“What’s wrong with people these days?” The lady grimaced. “Always jumping into conclusion without knowing everything!”

Having got the taste of my own medicine, I smiled sheepishly. I felt exposed. Thank God she could not see me in the dark! Without waiting to think anything, however, she continued–

You were right, though. He did not sound menacing at first. He had an extraordinary charm. . . .Ugh! Why am I praising him?. . .. Anyway, he used to come regularly, sit on the table close to the stage, and praise me after I sang. One evening, Bishwas came with a stranger and said, “What’s the point in singing here? Nobody seems to recognize your talent. My friend, Sarun here makes music and sells them pretty good. You should now be a professional.”

We made three songs within two months. Everyone who listened to those songs, praised them. We could not earn more, however, because we lacked money. Sarun’s studio was small and I put a lot of money in the recording. Bishwas provided help from his pocket money but it was not enough for aggressive marketing.

Meanwhile, Bishwas and I fell in love with each other. (Yeah, fell in love because it only gave pain afterwards). Neither of us confessed at first. Whenever we were together, Sarun used to tease, saying, “You two are in in love and I can see that in your body language. Why do you keep denying?”

We would just smile and brush it off. On the New Year eve, after I finished singing my song (I had become a local celebrity) a year after we met, Bishwas climbed on to the stage with me and confessed his love for me in public. A lot of emotions came rushing on my mind and I broke into tears. I confessed my feelings, too. Sarun could not stop smiling. His gut feeling had been proved.


A couple of months later, just as I was about to climb on the stage, Bishwas said, “You don’t need to sing. What’s the point? Nobody wants to hear you sing. All they want is you.”

“But you’re the one who has me,” I winked.

“I don’t know. What if someone takes you away from me?”

“No one will take me away.” I went closer to him and looking into his eyes, asked, “Don’t you trust me?”

He did not answer. I felt cold inside. Bishwas had always said he trusted me. I had always believed his words. That day, however, I saw a different Bishwas. It’s not that I had not been noticing that he had changed. I had chosen to ignore because it didn’t seem like big deal. After all, change is inevitable. But his lack of response was something else.

When I ended my performance, Bishwas was still at the back stage. He came to me, grabbed my hand and said, “What’s the point in singing like this, dear? I can meet all our needs even if you stop singing.”

“But you supported my journey and it has just begun. Why do you want me to stop?”

He looked at his feet and said nothing.

“I want answers, Bishwas.”

He did not utter a word.

I lost my patience. Furious at him, I said, “How do I know what’s happening in your head if you don’t say anything? Why do you want me to follow you without a question?”

“Because I love you and I want you to be with me. If you continue singing, I can’t be with you.”

I felt like he pushed me off a huge cliff. I lost words. I could not believe what I heard. Bishwas had said many times before that his parents would not let us stay together because of my caste. But he had always said that he would convince them. Even if he could not convince them, Bishwas had assured that he would never leave me. His name means trust but I should never have trusted him.

He left me. Never even looked back. I cried for days. Sarun helped me during that hard time. I completed my studies, learned English, Korean and Spanish, got a scholarship at a reputed university and returned a month ago. I had almost forgotten about Bishwas but he would not let me forget him. Last week, he knocked at my door. (Oh my God! How did he found where I was living? I don’t know. I should have asked!)

“I’m here to invite you to a party,” he said. “I have hurt you and I understand. But would you come just for the good times we had?”

I stood dumbfounded. “Should I go or not?” I asked myself a number of times. When I finally realized that I could actually punch him in public, I decided to come. But where is he?

What’s the Point? (Part Two)

Bishwas and I

I was in a long queue for college admission. It had been two hours and nobody moved an inch. The small window from which “service was being delivered” was nowhere in sight. The student leaders were coming now and then and saying they were sorting the issue. But we were still at the same spot, irritated by the sun up on our heads and the state of administration. Then somebody behind me thought they had to take action and went ahead making sure their spot won’t be taken.

They returned and started arguing with a student leader. A huge boy was growling, “What’s the point in lining us up when the actual work is being done from the backdoor?”


“That’s Bishwas, isn’t he?” the lady exclaimed.

“Yeah, but don’t interrupt me. What’s up with people these days? No patience at all!”

“Sorry, my bad. Please continue.”


Where was I? Oh, yeah. Bishwas and others argued with the student leaders for a while. Every one surrounded the student leaders. “Admit us from the backdoor,” we demanded. To save themselves from the wrath of the young guns, the student leaders finally helped in getting the work done in the right way. Before leaving, I talked with Bishwas, took his number and thanked him for what he did. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. “I was helping myself. You were lucky to be in the queue.”

We were sitting under a tree in the college premises one day when Bishwas said, “These leaders… These are the ones who create problems out of the blue and now everyone thinks they will solve existing ones.”

Within a month since we got admission in the college, Bishwas and I turned into best friends. We used to in sit the same desk in the classroom, we used to have lunch together, and we used to talk on various things that interested us both. Elections for Students’ Union was coming up, and Bishwas was infuriated that the leaders who had not helped us were now presenting themselves as the saviours.

“Why don’t you run for the election?” I said.

“What’s the point?”

“Remove them from their position of power.”

“Who knows me? Nobody!”

“You should’ve taken the credit that day, you know. Every new student would have loved you.”

“Maybe, but you flatter me. Don’t do it.”

“You should have let everyone know what you did.”

“Should I have held a mic and shouted from the top of the roof?”

“Yep. That’s exactly what you had to do.”

“Nonsense,” Bishwas laughs out loud.

“But a loud nonsense is the common sense.”

“Does not mean those with common sense give in to the nonsense.”

“Yes,” I jumped. “This is exactly why you should run in the election.”

“I won’t. Politics, elections… I’m not made for such things.”

I failed to convince him. And, despite having common sense, and despite the big talks, we gave in to the nonsense and never thought about it again.


After the first year exams, Bishwas stopped coming to the college. He stopped answering my calls. I had no idea where he lived. I still don’t know where he lives. What an awful “friend” I was! If I had been even a good friend, I would have known about his family, I would have gone to his house, I would have shared my secrets with him, like he did. But I did nothing that should call me a good friend. Yet, when he came to my house to hand over the invitation to this party, he said, “You’re my best friend from college. I don’t want you to miss it.”

Surprised, I asked, “But I never tried to contact you after you left college. I don’t know why you left. And I didn’t bother to find it out.”

“You only knew my number and you called me. But I didn’t want to connect with anyone. I had distanced myself from everyone, even my family and old friends. What’s the point in being sad for things you were not responsible? Cheer up, buddy!”

“But why did you go away from everyone? What problems did you have?”

“Let it be a secret, buddy. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So, something bitter happened. Tell me what happened.”

“What’s the point?”

“Perhaps, to unload the burden off your heart.”

“There is no load to unload, but because you insist, I will tell you what happened.”

He then told that he had joined the college only because of the pressure from his parents. He was a bright kid and his parents had huge expectations. But he could not find joy in the college activities. “Everything felt forced,” he said. He was doing things without any passion. That’s why he devised a plan to run away to the Himalayas. That’s where the rishis and santas have gone to find knowledge and peace. He stole a few thousand rupees, and threw his phone in the Kali Gandaki a few days later. Then he heard about a monk in the wilds beyond the Himalayas and went to meet him. There he found some peace but he could not forget his parents and friends so he came back to invite me to this party.

What’s the Point? (Part One)

A Party in the Dark

The party was unlike I had ever been at. It had been held in an abandoned warehouse outside the town. There was no food or drink. Nobody knew each other. And it was dark. The invitation had clearly instructed the guests not to bring phones. The guards, too, were strict about it. They checked each guest and even seized some phones. I was expecting Bishwas, the host, to make a grand filmy entry—that he would show up somewhere in the middle, spotlights focusing on him. But he was nowhere. Nobody knew where he was.

Somebody bumped into me. “Sorry,” said a lady in a melodious voice. “Do you know what’s going on? Why isn’t Bishwas showing up?”

“No idea,” I said. “I’m in the dark just as you’re.”

She chuckled. “Clever use of words, huh? What do you do?”

“I…um…do nothing. Yeah, that’s what I do. Nothing.”

She giggled.

“Believe it or not, I am jobless.”


“Bad luck, perhaps. Or, Ego. I don’t really know.”

“May you be blessed with a job as soon as possible!”

It was my time to laugh.

“What?” she sounded surprised. “I wished you luck and you’re laughing at me?”

“I found it funny,” I said. “I mean, how can you think that a job is a blessing? It’s a curse! You become a slave to money and to your boss. You do something because you’re paid for it. If your boss stops paying you, you leave. Job takes away your freedom. How can it be good?”

A moment of silence later, she said, “I think I figured out why you’re jobless. You do have a big ego.”

“Thank you.” I bowed with a smile although she could only have made out my silhouette.

“So, what brought you here?”

“Bishwas’s invitation.”

“Oh, that’s a breaking news! Everyone here is because of his invitation.”

“Does anybody in this world accept a precise answer any more?”

“Nope. Everybody wants to know the backstory. That’s where the fun is.”

“What’s the point of it?”

“That’s his catch phrase, isn’t it?”

“Yep. It’s his favourite question. Mine too. Those were the first words I heard when we met for the first time.”

[To be continued…]

3D Model: An Abandoned Warehouse

Notes of a Noob Animator

I finished writing a short story What’s the Point? on Friday and published all the parts on my Facebook page by this week. But Facebook pages are quite unintuitive for writing long content. You cannot even bolden or italicize the text. That’s why I am republishing the short story, one part each Saturday, on Stories of Sandeept,

I wanted to put at least one image related to the part. For the first part, I decided to make an abandoned warehouse. It’s where all the drama takes place. It had to be dramatic. However, I had never modeled a proper house before.

The first version of warehouse was an extended cube an a plane modeled into corrugated sheet. Then I added a shutter and painted some moss using GIMP. It looked awful.

The first version of Warehouse

This morning, I found two videos (embedded below) from CG Essentials, which gave…

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Two South Korean Movies I watched this Week

I watched two South Korean movies this week: Train to Busan (2016) and Silenced (2011). Both of them coincidentally starred Gong Yoo and Yu-mi Jung as the leads. I had heard of Train to Busan as one of the best horror movies showing zombie apocalypse, but it felt like a drama for the most part. Silenced, on the other hand is categorized as drama but it shows the horror of being under-privileged in the society. In this blog, I am presenting short reviews of both the movies.

1. Train to Busan (2016)

In this movie, Seok-Woo (Gong Yoo) is taking his daughter, Soo-an (Su-an Kim) to her mother from Seoul to Busan during a zombie apocalypse. The zombie virus originates through a leak in a biochemical factory. The virus is spreading on the scales of a pandemic. People are getting crazy and cannibalistic. But the apocalypse is only a set-up to show the horrors of society.

Seok-Woo is a workaholic, who thinks only about himself. Soo-an, the daughter, is polite and selfless. She is the heart and soul of the movie. Her interactions with the other passengers show to her father that one should never be selfish, even in worse of times. However, the world has mean people, too. The acts of one selfish person can jeopardize the lives of other people. The movie also shows that good people can follow bad people out of fear and can make irrational decisions. Thus, this movie is an excellent commentary on the society.

The zombies in this did not scare me but thought that I might act selfishly in times of apocalypse or pandemic scared me. We saw how some selfish people created the global pandemic of COVID-19. Those memories made Train to Busan even more scarier. Is a selfish society more dangerous than a pandemic or apocalypse? Yes, I think it is.

2. Silenced (2011)

Silenced is based on real events that happened at a school for the hearing-impaired in 2005. I had watched a review (before watching the movie) on the YouTube channel Accented Cinema and had not been able to stop my tears. It took me a couple of weeks to gain courage to watch this movie.

Kang In-ho is a new art teacher at a school for disabled in Mujin. He loves art but cannot pursue his passion his wife died, his daughter is sick. To end his financial problems, he steps into the school thinking it might help his career. But the teachers, including the principal, are repeatedly sexually assaulting students. Despite all odds against him, In-ho decides to fight for justice with the help of an activist Seo Yoo-jin.

The school administration, however, has been bribing the police, education office, and “doing charities”. In-ho and Yoo-jin are helpless against the priviledged criminals. I was expecting them to succeed but the movie shows their failure. For the under-priviledged, the lack of justice is not only a tragedy, it is also a horror.

Nations were built in the past so that everyone could get security and justice. But over time, the fight for justice has been huge struggle for common people, even in prosperous nations. Silenced exposed the flaws in judiciary system of South Korea. The movie became such a strong voice that the existing laws were amended and the culprits were given harsher punishment.

This movie shows how powerful a cinema can be. A movie was able to change the laws of the nation. This is what movies or any art form should strive to do–change the society for good.

कलाकारको सम्मान र सम्पदा संरक्षणमा उदासीनता

एकाबिहानै एउटा समाचारमा आँखा पर्‍यो । मनमा चस्स बिझायो । स्वर सम्राट नारायण गोपालको घर सङ्कटमा रहेछ । समाचारमा लेखिएको रहेछ–देवकोटाको घर पुनःनिर्माण हुन लागे पनि स्वर सम्राट नारायण गोपालको घर वेवास्तामा परेको छ । देवकोटाको घर पनि संरक्षण गरिएको चैं हैन । पूरै भत्काएर गरिएको पुनःनिर्माण हो । नयाँ बनाइएको घरमा पुरानो जत्तिको महत्व नहोला । वास्तवमा, हामीले सम्मान गर्दै आएका साहित्यकार र कलाकारका अमूल्य सम्पत्तिको रक्षा हामीले गर्नै सकेका छैनौँ ।

हामी साहित्य र कलालाई सम्मान गर्नै जान्दैनौँ । प्राचीन र मध्यकालीन कलाकार (मूर्तिकार, चित्रकार, वास्तुकलाविद्, साहित्यकार) हरू को सूची हामीसँग छैन । एकजना अरनिको प्रसिद्ध छन् मूर्तिकला र वास्तुकलामा, त्यो पनि चीन गएर सम्मानित भएकाले । सानै उमेरमा चीन जाने टोलीको नेतृत्व गर्ने अरनिकोले नेपालमा सिर्जना गरेका कलाहरू केके हुन् ? अरनिकोको वास्तविक नाम र ठेगानाका बारेमा पनि अझै अन्जान छु । अध्ययन भएको होला तर कुनै पाठ्यक्रममा पढ्ने मौका पाएको छैन । विदेशमा ख्याति नपाएसम्म आजपनि राज्यले चिन्दैन । परम्परा किन छोड्नु, हैन ?

मल्लकालका केही साहित्य र साहित्यकारका नाम सामान्य ज्ञानका किताबमा भेटिन्छ । त्यसबेलाका राजाहरू नै साहित्यकार ! पढ्ने लेख्ने राजाहरू मात्रै भएर हो कि ? जसले लेखेपनि ती महत्त्वपूर्ण ग्रन्थहरू र तिनमा के छ्न् भन्ने कुरा विद्यालयदेखि नै पढाइनु पर्ने हो । तर पाठ्यक्रम निर्माण गर्नेहरू आफ्ना कमसल लेखहरू पाठ्यक्रममा राख्न तत्पर छन् ।

आधुनिक नेपालमा (पहिले पर्वते या खसकुरा भनिने) नेपालीलाई केन्द्रविन्दुमा राखियो । सुवानन्द दासले लेखेको “पृथ्वीनारायण” काव्य नेपालीको पहिलो साहित्य भनेर घोकेको छु तर त्यसमा ठ्याक्कै के छ थाहा छैन । मोतीराम भट्टले नभेटेका भए भानुभक्त आचार्यलाई कतै गुमनाम हुने थिए । महत्त्व दिइएको भाषाका साहित्य पनि संरक्षित छैनन् । नेपाल भाषा, मैथिली, अवधी, तामाङ, किराँती लगायतका भाषा र जनजातिका साहित्य संरक्षण हुने कुरै भएन ।

सरकार त उदासीन भयो भयो, हाम्रा केही साहित्यकारहरू क्रान्तिकारी बन्ने नाममा इतिहासको संरक्षण नगरे पनि हुन्छ भन्ने विचार राख्छ्न् । देवकोटाको घर भत्काइएको विषयमा एकजना “लेखक”ले त्यो घर जोगाइयोस् या भत्काइयोस् मतलब भएन भन्ने आशयको ट्विट गरेपछि एउटा लेख नै लेखेको थिएँ । नारायण गोपालको घरको संरक्षण गर्ने विषयमा पनि उनको विचार जान्न मन लागेको छ ।

Finishing the Fifth Draft of a Story

I want to write every day but I don’t. Most of the times, I am so lazy that I don’t want to lift my pen. Sometimes, the things I’m writing is too personal and sometimes, the stuff I write makes me uncomfortable.

Right now, I am writing a story. I’m still not writing daily but I am more regular than before. I finished the fifth draft (fourth complete draft) today. Every draft has changed the way I am looking into the characters and the plot. The overall theme and plot has remained the same but the way to get to them have been varied.

I also found a way to calm my inner editor. Every time I see a problem, I promise myself to look into it in the next draft. Following expert advice, I used to wait for some time to revise. This time, however, I am not waiting. As soon as I finish one version, I begin another. It’s helping me a lot in remembering the things I wanted to change and it has also helped me regain confidence in writing.

I hope to complete the story in the next couple of drafts. Then I will move on to the next thing I have on my mind. Wish me luck!


Until recently, I had not realized that I have become invisible on social media. I am there but I am not. As someone who finds it difficult to chat or call on regular basis, it has always been difficult to maintain friendship on social media. I have also been tired of thankless favours they ask me. Still, I’m scared of losing them.

Since the Covid-19 lockdown in Chait 2076 (April 2020), a lot of things have happened. These one-and-a-half years have been mostly unproductive. I have not written much. Neither did I make any progress in academics. I invested my last six months to qualify for government services but the exams have been stalled and now I feel like am in a limbo. I learnt a few stuffs related to art and animation but I haven’t turned them into anything productive.

But maybe I am thinking productivity in terms of monetary gains only. My parents say knowledge never goes to waste no matter how difficult gaining it might be. My lack of knowledge on simplest of the things related to my thesis work was one of the reasons I decided not to complete it within Bhadau this year. On top of that the errors I had made were fatal. They should have never made way into my research. I’ll be improving on it for sure so that my step back can help me leap forward.

Despite my fears, I am hoping for the best. I have more time for preparation of exams. I have more time for my research. I have more time for family. I have more time to make connections. All I want to do is not become invisible.

नेपाली साहित्यमा देखिएका केही निराशाजनक दृश्यहरू

यसै साता महाकवि लक्ष्मीप्रसाद देवकोटाको घर प्रज्ञा प्रतिष्ठानले भत्कायो । तर्क थियो, “घर जीर्ण थियो । सबलीकरण गर्न भन्दा भत्काएर नयाँ बनाउन सस्तो पर्ने भयो । नयाँ भवन सङ्ग्रहालय बन्छ । के नराम्रो हुन्छ र ?”

वाहियात तर्क गर्न, कानूनका छिद्र समात्न र दलका पछि लागेर विद्वान हुँ भन्दै हाँक दिन नेपालका प्राज्ञिक भनाउँदाहरूको विशेषता नै हो । उनीहरूमा न इतिहासको चेत छ न त भविष्यको सही योजना नै । ध्यान छ त केबल आत्मरति, अलिकति धन र नचाहिने कुरा गर्न ।

आम सर्वसाधारणलाई महाकवि देवकोटाको घर भत्काइँदैछ भनेर सचेत नगराउने “अभियन्ता” र मिडिया अर्को ठूलो समस्याका रूपमा अघि बढेका छन् । नेपालीमै लेख्ने एकजना “साहित्यकार”को ट्वीटले नेताहरूले रोपेको जातीय/भाषिक द्वेषयुक्त राजनीतिको प्रभाव प्रष्ट देखाएको छ । वर्तमानमा सुधार चाहने, अरू भाषाको उत्थान चाहने उनलाई नेपाली भाषासँग चैं समस्या किन छ ? नेपाली भाषालाई मात्रै महत्त्व दिने नीति कुनै बेला राज्यले लिएको थियो तर अब अरू भाषा संस्कृतिको संरक्षणको कुरा गर्दा नेपालीलाई बाहिर राख्नुपर्ने हो ? कुनै यो विषयमा नाम चलेका “फुल टाइम व्यावसायिक” लेखकहरूको मौनता अर्को दु:खद पाटो हो । इतिहासको सम्मान नगर्ने उनीहरू वर्तमानमा सम्मान पुगेन भन्न कसरी सक्छन् ? भविष्यमा तिनका नाम मेटिँदैन भन्ने के छ ?

अघिल्लो साता मदन पुरस्कारको छनौटमा परेका उत्कृष्ट पुस्तकहरू मध्ये एक पुस्तक यस्तो पनि थियो जसले वर्ग विभेदलाई प्रश्रय दिएको थियो । एक चोटि मात्रै छापिने र प्रिअर्डर गरेकाले मात्रै पाउने भनिएको उक्त कथा-सङ्ग्रह बजारमा सहजै पाइन थालेको सुनेको छु । प्रकाशक र पाठकसँग सिधै सम्पर्क बनाएको, वितरकलाई बीचमा आउन नदिएको भन्ने प्रकाशक अझै पनि नयाँ छापिँदैन भनिरहेका छन् । तर “आउट अफ स्टक” भनिएका ठाउँमा पनि फेरि बिक्री भइरहेको छ । अर्थात् प्रकाशकले प्रिअर्डरबाट मात्रै बिक्री गरेको भने पनि अलिकति सचेत पाठकले त्यो पत्याइहाल्ने स्थिति छैन ।

अनि लेखक भक्ति पनि मज्जैले देख्न पाइयो यो हप्ता । आफूलाई मन पर्ने लेखकको किताबको कमजोरी अरू पाठकले औँल्याउँदा लेखकमाथिको आक्रमण गरेको भन्ने विद्वान् पनि देखियो । पाठकले प्रतिक्रिया दिँदैमा कुनै लेखकका फ्यान त्यसरी उत्रिनु नै अनौठो लाग्यो । यस्तो भक्तिले त लेखकले सधैं पोजिटिभ रिभ्यु मात्र पाउँछ । जे लेखे पनि हुन्छ भन्ने मानसिकता उसमा हाबी हुन थाल्छ । लेखनको गुणस्तर स्वाभाविक रूपमा घट्छ । यो साहित्यको लागि कदापि राम्रो हुन सक्दैन ।

पाठक प्रतिक्रियालाई व्यक्तिगत आक्रमण ठान्ने, प्रकाशकले दिनदहाडै लुट्ने अनि प्राज्ञहरूले प्राज्ञिक धर्म पूरा नगर्ने प्रवृति नेपाली साहित्यलाई अधोगतितर्फ लान उद्दत रहेका छ्न् । सचेत पाठक, पाठकलाई सम्मान गर्ने लेखक/प्रकाशक र सही एजेन्डा बोकेका प्राज्ञ नभएसम्म नेपाली साहित्यलाई सही बाटो देखाउन गाह्रो पर्ने देखिन्छ ।