In fact, this pale-alao deceased was like a phoenix bird. He had died many times, in his psyche. He was resurrected from his own ashes many times. As far as I can tell, this has been a double whammy in recent times.

First – V. no. 2077 June 11th. On the previous day—the 'white' day of history—the savages staged the Rukum massacre. (Poet Ahuti coined the phrase 'the whitest day of history' in order not to impose additional atrocities on the oppressed 'black' and to punish the oppressor 'white'). was People could be so love-hating, so despicable of love and beauty, Veri had never known until then. She was shocked, unconscious.

Father-in-law forgot to walk, Besur was wandering. The caste system will attack the unsuspecting group that went to "take brides and eat kafal" like this, and the "festival" of murder will continue! Sozhi Bheri had never thought of it in her dreams.

It was dead for several days. Because, its faith in Sara's entire movement was dead. From Spartacus to Che Guevara, from Chandra Bahadur Darzi to Dil Bahadur Ramtel, from Joan of Arc to Rosa Luxemburg, its faith in the blood-soaked rebellion heritage died. 

And, one evening at Pragya Newari Cafeteria in Bagbazar, after serving a quart of vodka, it suddenly burst out with two lines: 'Not only with the blood of a wounded heart/Sometimes a love letter will be written with a gun.' Then it phoenixed itself. 

Another bet died on 5th Chait last year. On that day, murder-addicted Israel massacred more than 180 children of Gaza. It continued to die for the next several days. How it phoenixed itself then, I forgot. The furnace may have gone, the wine may have been consumed and the phoenix may have become. That's why one place seems to write, 'I need alcohol to fight my own cowardice.' 

If this is the case, as a poet/writer, it will do it from time to time. 

investigation Hay was an ordinary poet, an ordinary writer and was an ordinary man. The life of a common man is also a junkyard of petty deaths. How many deaths did Khdra-Zhina die? He died when he was attacked by a friend while asking for help. Unable to fulfill his minor son's demand for expensive toys, he died saying 'I don't talk to my father, Katti!' The one who supported him died when he gave the gift of stabbing. Sometimes he died of humiliation, sometimes he died of regret. 

And, one day the weed really died. Died unable to phoenix himself. 

(Readers, have you googled it yet? Don't worry. This 'tapas ghaan' is its invention. It's a word it invented for those it doesn't like. There's no miracle in it. It's just that 'grass' is turned upside down. 'grass' is pushed back a few millimeters to create a slight tilt. And, I used its weapon in this eulogy. Where do you like it?) 

No pain document should be written on it after death, it did not do anything like that. Yes, this generation of 2033 was in favor of vitalist movements, Manasa Vacha Karmana. The pride that he brought the republic as poetry was dear to him for the rest of his life. 

No pain document should be written on it after death, it did not do anything like that. Yes, this generation of 2033 was in favor of vitalist movements, Manasa Vacha Karmana. He was one of the founders of the Republic. The pride that he brought the republic as poetry was dear to him for the rest of his life. 

was loyal to Labour. There are billions of people. So it didn't matter. It is not necessary to say anything about its scarcity. There are billions of people in need. As long as there are Elon Musk, Bill Gates and the Forbes list, they will remain scarce. This is the world of pregnant Kim Kardashian, who takes a private jet from Los Angeles to Paris to satisfy her cheesecake cravings, and millions of pregnant women forced to satisfy their cravings for a plate of chowmein. What is the meaning and justification of focusing on the lack of research in such a mess? 

Its death is no big deal either. Because, 1 lakh 72 thousand people die every day. Thankfully, the probe was not starved. This was its great success. While every year 9 million people die of hunger. 

That's why I'm saying, this is not the right person to dedicate an obituary to. However, in order to determine the amount of the obituary itself, it is necessary to discuss the fuzul of a consignment award. So Vandihalam, it won three awards namely Nagarjuna Shubhprabhat Kavya Samman, Willing Smriti Award and Parijat Creation Samman. 

It was popular in a small circle, especially in the left and left-left circles. In the words of famous poet Hari Adhikari, he was a 'poet loved by a community'. It built its pride in the architecture of this 'Utpatai Maya'.  Although the

is of left-wing schooling, it has plagued tabloid journalism for years. It was able to insert some pages of literature in the magazine which is considered to be dealing in 'Sex and Crime'. He was very proud of it. In the forest of beautiful children's breasts, buttocks and breasts, it hears 

Even the antelopes of Mukarung's poetry were released. He was very proud of it. Why is this sentence repeated here, it kept saying this until it lived, this so-called achievement. 

If two/four aspects of its personality are not exposed, it would be unfair to it. It is indecent to do injustice to the deceased. It was the same in hypocrisy management. He used to say, 'I have no hunger for fame and no hunger for fame'. However, the discussion would have reached the literary platforms where it was broadcast. He used to avoid places that were less discussed or not discussed at all. When offers of small prizes and honors came, he refused directly. However, in view of the money and Rawaf, he kept his eyes fixed on the big prize for the rest of his life. He sat drooling. That's it, longing  The trick was to not reveal the

. He kept flaunting, flaunting at the level of declaration - I am not very fond of money. But, when he saw a balance of 115 rupees 59 money in e-service, he used to scold the decimal in his heart, "If you didn't lie here as a villain, I would have 11 thousand 559 rupees now."

It was said that I am one of the poets who overthrow the dictator. However, he himself showed signs of dictatorship. For example, what level of authority over some junior brothers (namely Kiran, Upendra) who love him very much? If the

was run, they would have to be present at all times when he called. He had paid no price for loving her. After he called them, they had to show up after canceling the engagement with the beloved. In particular, there was a doctor who could give three-week training in the management of the weed. If 'Hypocrisy Management Institute' had been opened towards Baghbazar, it could have been rich. 

It got to associate with many talented and influential poets/writers of the country. He also got the love and goodwill of many. This is one achievement of his life, which could be called magnificent. It did not seem to learn anything from them. If learned, lost in its creation, its imprint and luster? 

The fact that one's memoirs are bound to discuss one's contributions cannot be ignored. It should also be said what race the deceased was. If it is a social service to alert the people who are walking on the sidewalk without realizing that the soles of their shoes have burst, then it was a social service worth wearing. 

and in the poet's obituary, it is a universal custom to write that the deceased was a nature lover. The probe was a moon lover. Because, the moon was free to love. Chan was interested in sightseeing, but he wasn't ready to risk three months of budget-busting for three days of nature-loving. Instead, he looked at the moon, he saw Sauraha there, Begnas lake there, and Hatung waterfall there. 

One of its holes remained incomplete. It had written a retrograde poem years ago, 'Tulsi's Monastery'. He wanted to discard this poem. He wrote this regressive poem after having a couple of personal - absolutely personal - quarrels with a few racists who were chanting the slogan of ``Cut off the nose, lick the blood'' in the name of identity. What the investigation had forgotten was that turning poetry into a weapon of personal vendetta is a heinous crime. It went without paying its penalty. Now it's gone. On this behalf, I apologize to the protestors who united their blood and sweat in favor of identity. 

Some will definitely 'miss' it. Ekadh tea shop and Bhatti shop will definitely do it. Its borrowing ledger can contribute greatly to the emptiness they feel. 

Janabojjwal, A.M. Jaroni, Saprisa, Ra.Ra., Painter, NDS, Susmisree, Dusara, Raghu, Shiv, Vishwadarshan, Avinash Shrestha, Narayan Dhakal, Shyamal, Ahuti, Rajendra Maharjan, Keshav Silwal, Abhay Shrestha, Yug Pathak, Narayan Amrit, Vikas Basnet... All these names and a few more will remain in its glory for some time. Love and friendship are about to make things happen, and more than that, their physical and emotional investment is on top of that. Whatever it was, whatever it was (poets/essayists/translators/editors) at some point in time they played some role for it. 

Oh true, Khagendra Sangraula loved it so much. Also, he considers every tamasdeshi, light-seeker and vitalist Zulusyaha as his own child. The investigation was the man she had fallen in love with. In grief, the old man resumed the cigarette he had left. His ears will probably be ringing for a few weeks, "Dai, Lalsalami dhog cha hai!" 

Until a day before he died, he was gossiping with layout artist Sunil Khadgi about four of his unpublished books — 'The Upcoming Spring of Sorrows', 'Jasmine Ma'am', 'Shodash Moondaka Roti, Geet and Ghokrettakhu' and 'Why Mirza Ghalib Doesn't Run the Garbage?' It is not known whether these were part of the 'Gafai Te Ho Ni Samdhiji' brand's Udan series or was actually written by him. was

Sunil gave him a corner of his office, which he named 'Dalbhat Studio'. There it was, a laptop given to him by a friend who loved him dearly, namely Jammajammi Jethapunji. Sunil doesn't believe that he, who is earning (say, trying to earn) a living from editing and translating, will suddenly be freed from the need for a daily bread. He still takes off his minus five power glasses and finds his fingers dancing on the keypad. Aghast at the futility of this undertaking, the inspector calls Gho an impostor, swears amorously, and the captain lights a cigarette.