Tag Archives: monologue

announcement and comeback

I had planned to write and post this entry two 40 weeks back. That’s the plan I made six 44 weeks ago. But I could not. Not because it’s a difficult topic to write about (may be it is) but because I was busy. When I was not busy I was lazy.

So the news is this: I have gone into hibernation from active journalism. One fine February morning last year, when I changed my Twitter bio, this was the new first sentence: “A journalist in hibernation.”

The editor of Kantipur, where I worked until 18 Feb 2012, was quick to react: Continue reading

Busy Days, American Politics and Our Leaders

I have been extremely busy in the past two weeks. Blogging was the primary (or caucus? ha ha ha) casualty. I was completely into journalism, my primary profession. Reporting, writing, managing and editing.

The assassination of former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto came as a shock and I found myself in our newsroom tracking the sad and dramatic development as it unfolded in Rawalpindi. Pakistani newspapers Dawn, the News, American papers NYT and Wash Post, wire services and the web sites of BBC and CNN. And Wikipedia too. All were my sources for the report that I prepared and was published on front, almost entire, page. The only other news report, also written by me, on the front page was about the until-then-top-secret-number of the Maoist combatants released by the United Nations Mission in Nepal (UNMIN). The front page of Kantipur, the next day, had belonged to me, as one colleague at the business bureau put it. Continue reading

When You Don’t Have Anything To Do

Kya alchhi lageko hau!

What to do when you don’t want to do anything but still want to do something? My friend Sudeep tells: sutne! [sleep] or go to movie. Those are nice ideas but what I did a few days ago was this: No, I am not telling this right now because if I do that somebody might read that here, steal the idea and turn that into a nice story before I do!

The point to be noted here is that I did. Yes I did. And I did. Not only once, but more than once, less than twice. That is not a big deal though. Anyone can do it. People might actually be doing that right now, at this very moment when I am writing these lines.

That’s it. I might write more about my experience after I write about the work in print. That’s how I save both my job and the scoop.

The trip of Bhaktapur a few days ago to do a story on a street drama was okay though I wasn’t very well. Thank god, I didn’t fall ill for more than a day this time around. I was smart enough to drink a lot of water and that really helped. Falling sick, when everyone is waking and running, feels like a really bad idea. Continue reading

On “Happy Dashain Mass Emails” and Ram Ravan Dilemma

Theme of the blog: I have put an auto response message to the senders of Happy Dashain mass emails requesting them not to send any such emails next time. Plus, questions on loneliness and on Ram Ravan dilemma.

Once I had read a news report about a website called tired.com that talked about people’s responses to the only question posed by the site on the middle of the page: “Are you tired? Tell us why.” The answers, according to the report, aren’t published on the site and the report was based on the journalist’s interview with the owner of the site and samplings of the emails that were sent to the site. I haven’t visited the site since the day I read that news but today I am posing similar questions here: What do you do: When you don’t want to talk to anyone? When feel lonely but don’t want to mingle with anyone? If you want to answer, feel free to use the form below though I must assert that I completely retain the right to publish or reject the response(s). Or, may be I will write a news story based on ’em! [Okay, I just visited the site and found that it’s same: there are only two lines on the home page that I have already mentioned and the word “us” links to the email address tired@tired.com] Continue reading

On ‘Happy Dashain Mass Emails’ and Ram Ravan Dilemma

Theme of the blog: I have put an auto response message to the senders of Happy Dashain mass emails requesting them not to send any such emails next time. Plus, questions on loneliness and on Ram Ravan dilemma.

Once I had read a news report about a website called tired.com that talked about people’s responses to the only question posed by the site on the middle of the page: “Are you tired? Tell us why.” The answers, according to the report, aren’t published on the site and the report was based on the journalist’s interview with the owner of the site and samplings of the emails that were sent to the site. I haven’t visited the site since the day I read that news but today I am posing similar questions here: What do you do: When you don’t want to talk to anyone? When feel lonely but don’t want to mingle with anyone? If you want to answer, feel free to use the form below though I must assert that I completely retain the right to publish or reject the response(s). Or, may be I will write a news story based on ’em! [Okay, I just visited the site and found that it’s same: there are only two lines on the home page that I have already mentioned and the word “us” links to the email address tired@tired.com] Continue reading

Dinesh Wagle Turns 28, Says Life Is Satisfying

A Birthday Blog

Dinesh Wagle smiles in Santa Monica Beach...a self portrait via camera

Dinesh Wagle, who turned 28 today, smiles in Santa Monica Beach, Los Angeles in April 2006. “Touching the Sea water [there] was the most terrific moment [I did in my 27th year],” Wagle said in an interview. Pic by Wagle [Click here to read my American Journey]

March 1: Amidst all the chaos that is currently ruling Nepal, Dinesh Wagle, a Kathmandu based scribe with cosmopolitan dreams, quietly turned 28 a minute ago, Wall, eh, Wagle Street Journal reports. As usual, the birthday boy was in his home, in a village not far from the Kathmandu’s International Airport, as the clock in his assembled computer displayed the change in the date. He was alone in the room, just as usual, in front of computer playing with the keyboard. A change though was in the channel on the TV. It was National Geographic instead of the usual screaming of CNN. Analysts believe that Wagle went for that particular channel for that particular night because he might have wanted to experience calmness in the transition from 27 to 28. He definitely didn’t want the transition to be like the one that they organize in Times Square, New York on the last day of December every year.

A source close to Wagle revealed that at one moment he was seen staring at the TV for more than a minute as if something important was on the screen. Giraffes dancing in the deserts? No one knows for sure! “But I felt he wasn’t looking at any thing in particular,” the source said in an interview with the Associated Press requesting anonymity because the issue was too private to divulge in public. The source guessed that Wagle was “probably reviewing his life, those long 27 years of his existence in the world.” May be he was thinking, the source guessed, about what he did and did not in these years. “I am not a mind reader,” the source said, “but he must be thinking ‘God, 27 years passed and I have done nothing significant’. May be he was also thinking about the year ahead.”

Dinesh Wagle arrived in this world, needless to mention, 27 years ago and, in his birthday statement that was neither posted on his web site nor made available to news hungry press around the world, said that he was satisfied with his life so far. “The God, if there is anything like that, has been kind to me,” Wagle said in the statement. “I must say I am satisfied with the life because there is no meaning of complaining about the past that has been lived through. Of course there is always a feeling that it could have been better. There is also a kind of weird feeling that I have become a year older but I am an optimistic person therefore I take this transition from sattias bariya to atthias barsiya as being more mature and experienced.” Wagle said he was more concerned about the coming days than the past. Wagle said that he planned to live at least another 50 years. While making that remark, Wagle said, he was well aware about the fact that those numbers were not in his control.

It wasn’t immediately clear how Wagle will celebrate his birthday though he has repeatedly made public his intention of not organizing a party or something. In a rare face-to-face interview with a scribe for the Washington Post (in which no one really uttered a single word) Wagle said that he might work hard and smart in office on his birthday and, if things to as he wished, go for coffee with his most intimate friend in the evening.

A reporter by profession, a blogger by passion and a sleeper by habit (which, many believe, happens to be genetically directed), is a passionate dreamer too. “I love dreaming,” Wagle said in a brief interview conducted by DNN (Dinesh News Network) on the eve of his birthday. He took no time to say that 27th was one of the most memorable years in this life. “Touching the Sea water in Santa Monica Beach, Los Angeles in April was the most terrific moment,” he said with an innocent smile on his face. Then there was the mischievous smile on his face. “Entering inside a strip bar in Washington DC was the most surprising event of the year.” Watching a Hindi movie last week in a Kathmandu theater was the sweetest moment of all, Wagle said. He didn’t name the movie or disclosed the reason for describing the movie-watching experience as the sweetest. In an editorial peice, the Los Angeles Times writes: “Many believe [Wagle] must have liked the story very much but people have always been proved wrong when it comes to guessing his personal feelings. Though he works in a field like journalism that demands extensive networking and socializing, he talks very less with people who are not familiar to him or are not giving interviews for his stories.”

Nevertheless Wagle, self-proclaimed tech-savvy reporter, said in a SMS interview conduced by a columnist for the New York Times the other day that he was determined to keep “this wild crazy passionate love of ours” always rocking. Lord Ganesh, are you listening? Life, for Wagle, has just begun!

Note: Names of the newspapers and other media are (un)real but they never conducted the interviews. Dinesh Wagle claims the credit for the story above.

Kathmandu Load Shedding: Life in Darkness

It’s 1:21 AM and I just woke up. I came home at 10:30 PM last night. There was no light in the house. There was no light in the village. The whole area was under darkness. Living in darkness has become part of life in Kathmandu and other parts of Nepal. But then I think we must be thankful to ourselves that at least we have electricity in the only metropolitan for a few hours in a day. Why not? People are living with kerosene lamps in thousands of villages. I don’t remember when exactly I saw electricity first but I think it was only when I was older than 5 when I visited Kathmandu with my great grand parents. My village in Ramechhap where I was born and grew up until 10 doesn’t have electricity even now and if I go there I have to habituate myself with the life in dark. So there is no point in complaining for daily three hour load shedding in the city. Wait until tomorrow, there will be strong possibility of daily six hours of load shedding.

“How can we call Kathmandu a metropolis?” my reporter friend Girish Giri was expressing his anger as we were returning home last night. “There are no public vehicles on the road after 8 in the night.” How can we call this city a metropolis when there is three hours a day load shedding which will turn into six hours soon? Girish has a motorbike and he rarely uses office vehicle to get back to home. Today it was a different story. “The petrol in my bike finished while looking for petrol,” he said. “I can’t run the bike now.” He had parked the bike in office compound. Petrol stations, he said, are saying they don’t have petrol. “They have only diesel,” said Girish.

Dreams: So I said I woke up at 1:21 AM. Actually I didn’t sleep. Insomniac! I lied on the bed, covered myself with sirak, and felt the warmth of the water bottle filled with really hot water. Then I started dreaming. Sometime I do like that. Especially when I can’t sleep. I can sleep only when I am really tired so that I can’t think about anything. I try to make myself that tired every night. Sitting in front of computer for long definitely helps. So I imagined about so many things. Big things. Mostly I am the protagonist of such imaginations. I am the hero. I save the world. I do so many adventures that would put Spider Man and James Bond on shame. What can they do? Nothing compared to what I do in my imaginations. Have they been to moon for example? Most of the time I try to do something, may be read a book or newspaper to keep myself too busy to have any such dreams or imaginations. That is when there is light. Where there is no light, go with dream. I was peeking outside and noticed that the power has come back. Why not wake up and do the think that I like doing most? Thus I opened the computer and am now typing these lines.

Family news: Kalyan and Meera, my father and mother whom I call dai and bhauju, went to Ramechhap this morning via a flight to Manthali, the district headquarter. They are going home after 7 long years. I think they will return to Kathmandu in a few weeks though they didn’t tell me about their plan. I didn’t ask. My problem is I don’t take much interest in family affairs. Email, Ba and I are here. I think the talkative old man Toyanath will also be staying with us giving company to Ba, my great grandfather. Sometime I really enjoy his talks. “Babu,” he starts talking. And that Babu is a really long Baaaaaaabuuuuu. We used to mimic his way of talking when we were kid. (Hmm… here is what I wrote when Maoists opened the lock of Toyanath’s house in June 2006.)

State of the Mind: While starting to write this post I had thought about mentioning some of imagination adventures but I am not doing that now. Hyaa… Okay, its 2:6 AM and I just drank water which is cool by now. Felt so good. I am planning to wake up, if I sleep, at 8 AM in the morning. Can I? Okay, 9. I want to attend the Maoist mass meeting in Tundikhel and see Prachanda giving speech in public after 25 years. May be then I will go for a movie? That would be a good combination. Prachanda speech and Traffic Signal. May be I won’t have enough time for movie. Will see. Meanwhile I am having some signals now. I am starting to yawn but still not feeling like sleeping. How about watching TV? What’s this? Sting on CNN? Hmm that’s from Grammy. The report is about which band earned how much in their tours last month. Impressive figures! May be it’s time to dream again!!

Oh My Sleeping Child the World is so Wild

… But youve build your own paradise

Every midnight I quietly go to bed with this promise that I will wake up early in the morning. The alarm in my cell phone rings just in time: 6 AM. I instinctively reach up to the machine and kill the sound of Christmas tune only to go back to sleep. I don’t forget the promise made a few hours ago but I can’t open my eyes however hard I try. Okay, I will sleep for a few minutes, I tell myself, and definitely wake up. When I wake up, it’s already 8 AM. Still my eyes find it difficult to get accustomed with the surroundings. They want me to close the lids. I, poor fellow, defenselessly abide by their wish. When I wake up it’s 9 AM or 10 or 11. It could be 12 as well. Early to bed and early to rise. Who said that? I can’t sleep before 12. Even if I try to lie on the bed and get some sleep, I can’t. So I end up dreaming about going on the moon or jumping over from flying jet.

There are options to avoid such adventures. Take a book or press the remote control buttons. I don’t know which I do the most but I lie on the bed making sure that I am damn tired, or sleepy so that I can’t think of anything weird. Sometime I keep the TV on and try to sleep. Let me say BBC World is informing me about the world events as I am struggling to go way temporarily from the planet. I wake up in the middle of the night, may be at 2 or 3 AM and switch off the idiot box and go back to sleep. This time, I go asleep without even knowing where I am sleeping.

Over the past five days, I have seen some progress in my effort to wake up early. Five days ago, it was 12 mid day. Then 11. Then 10. Yesterday it was 9. Today it was 8. Quite a feat in waking up early, I told myself and started turning pages of Kantipur. Plus, I was shipping tea too. Bhauju had almost stopped brining in tea to my room for obvious reasons. She would bring tea at around 7 and I would say, okay I am awakening, please put that there. When I was awake, it was 10 or so and tea was icy cold. So she must have thought that I wasn’t’ qualified enough for morning tea.

So what I want is to go bed early, that is around 11 PM and wake up at around 5 AM. I am sure that is possible but don’t know why my eyes don’t believe me.

Previous blog on sleeping:

1. House Arrest: Read, Sleep and Imagine

State of Mind: Midnight

It’s 12:12 AM as I am starting to type these words. Not exactly a good time to start writing a blog post. May be a right time to dream. Dream about what? Sleeping with a girl? Forgive my lingo but I am alone and I am adult and it’s exactly 14 minutes past midnight. I know it’s time to sleep. I was reading the Person of the Year issue of Time Magazine, after watching my favorite show CID, and a line in the introductory article really struck my state of mind. “I am going to blog about my state of mind or the state of the nation or the steak-fries at the new bristo down the street? Who has that time and that energy and that passion?” (I usually come home at 10 PM from office and the show starts at 10:15. That’s a good timing and I like watching criminal investigative shows of any quality.)

As I was reading the articles, I couldn’t resist temptation to be in front of the computer and get hold of the keyboard. After all, I remember, I used to write about my state of mind back in 2004 when I started blogging. Then, putting that job aside, I jumped into blogging about the state of the nation (on UWB). Why not go retro? After all, the name YouTube also has that retro feel. Article about YouTube guys is informative and quite interesting. I envy them. These three guys are 27, 28 and 29 years old. Damn, I tell myself, I am 28 and will soon be 29. Will I start a YouTube like phenomena by the end of next year? What the hell I am doing here in this small room of a house in Gothataar Village? Reading Time Magazine article on “Leila, The Real Lonelygirl.” Ha, where are you, dear? The 20-year-old, according to the Magazine, lives in Maryland, “where she’s studying to be a social worker. Her personal life really is complicated.” F–k (God, I would be censored if I were in UWB), I tell myself, why people have complicated life even before they reach 20? I hate these people. So sex is out of mind, what else I can think about? I go back to the dream of being a sensational YouTube like miracle.

The thing is that I have actually no time to dream right now. I must get some good sleep because the harsh reality is that I must work. Tomorrow is a Saturday but, what the hell, I will be going to office anyway. I don’t remember when was the last time I took a holiday. I am hoping to do some real work tomorrow, work on some stories that I have been planning for days. Today wasn’t a busy day and that was quite a relief. But I don’t have car or motorcycle so I must wait till office vehicle drops me home. I am still in the phase of dream, mind it, I tell myself.

I don’t interfere in domestic affairs normally. Actually, I rarely take any interest in that. Sometime I even forget who else are there in my family. I come home at around 10 PM, eat whatever has been kept for me and watch TV or play with computer or read books and papers and sleep. Sleep till I feel like sleeping. For instance, when my editor Narayan Wagle called me this morning (at around 11 AM) with a story idea, I was sleeping. “Still sleeping?” he asked. “No, I lied. Then I woke up. When I wake up from bed, in most days I eat and get out of the house. So the house, for me, is basically a place to take rest. May be a hotel?

Someone told me recently, and last year too, not to compare myself with others. What the hell? Why not compare, I say. How can you evaluate yourself if you don’t compare? If you don’t set the bar? I always compare things. Like I compare my writings with those published in New York Times. Hmm, the paper is superior in quality. But not always. I was taken aback by the mistakes I saw in a recent article about Nepal in the Times. I wrote an email to the correction section of the paper (and CCed that to the Public Editor) yesterday. I am hoping to see the correction soon but if they don’t do that I will post the email here. So what do I think of myself? One who don’t do mistakes? Hell not. I also do the mistakes. And I keep on learning. I try not to repeat the f- – – – – – mistakes (Again, forgive my lingo. I am writing my state of mind tonight and you know mind is mind. I don’t know what I really meant by this but I hope the message got through.) We don’t expect such silly mistakes from newspapers like the Times, do we? I am sure the mistake happened because of the parachute journalism they practice when it comes to small and insignificant countries like Nepal. They send tourist reporters like the one who did that particular story, and silly mistakes are bound to happen.

So what else do I want to write about? It’s very cold in here. More so because I have opened the windows. Chilly wind is coming in. I must open the window to get wireless phone work properly so that I can connect to the Internet. I can’t afford buying heater, or paying exuberant electricity charge if I buy one. So better I close the window for the time being and open it when I have to connect the net again.

Poverty is all about comparison. I would be in the category of super rich if I compare myself with millions of those who are living openly under the sky and can’t afford to have a bed like mine. (Hmm, this Leila The Real Lonelygirl’s bedroom seems real cozy for me.) If I compare myself with the likes of YouTube guys (well, they say they haven’t seen any of the $ 1.65 billion that they are supposed to get from the Google deal. So I am not comparing with them.) or Google guys, then I am terribly poor.

Today I saw a fantastic documentary titled ‘We Corner People’ by a Nepali filmmaker named Kesang Tseten. The film wonderfully documents the difficult life of the people of a remote village in Rasuwa district and their efforts of building a suspension bridge with the technical help from Helvetas Nepal. “It’s hard being poor,” says a man in his letter sent to his wife from Kuwait where he had gone to work. “I live in a corner,” says another man in the film. “I don’t have a king’s salary.”

If you go by that standard, living in Nepal itself is like living in some remote corner of the world. And it’s hard to be poor in any corner like this. Well, actually I don’t consider myself poor. It’s midnight and my mind is thinking anything it likes to think. So it found poverty as one of the appropriate topic, I think. The film must have had some effect.

Talking about “me and my mind” thing, there is really one hell of a contradiction that I find. If that’s my mind, I must be a different entity. If my mind and I are different entity, how can I think? I mean, I say this is my hand or this is my nose. If I were to remove all these “my” things out of me, what would remain of me at the end? There would be no “me.” So, “me” is the combination of all these “my”s and there is no need for that distinction between these two. Really, then what is this? I am feeling some kind of chill in my feet? Whose feet?

Enough with this philosophy sh– which will take me nowhere. It’s been more than an hour since I started writing and it seems if I continue writing, I will not go to bed. No, I will. I am already yawning. A long yawn. But my mind says it still doesn’t want to sleep? A smiling Leila, the Real Lonely girl, is watching me from inside her laptop. Good night, err, Good Morning! 1:22 AM.

F—, it’s 1:47 AM and I can’t post the blog because the connection is crappy tonight. A consolation comes from the Time article: even YouTube guys in the US didn’t have the high speed connection required to browse their site. I will start reading the magazine.

House Arrest: Read, Sleep and Imagine

Yesterday was the coldest day in Kathmandu as we experienced the first sign of the arrival of winter: it rained and, according to what I read in papers, mercury dropped to 4 degrees Celsius. The rain made impressive front page headlines in today’s papers but for me, though, the cold had arrived a few days earlier. From the very morning in last Friday, I was starting to feel uneasy in my throat. I had taken shower that morning and wasn’t wearing warm clothes. Throat was getting worse by the evening and I was having difficulties to sallow water. My priority was to gargle with salty water as I reached home past 10:30 PM. I knew I would be unable to wake up in the morning. I will be having fever, I told myself, so I must take care of my fragile body. With that decision, I went on to dream about a healthy life.

I was pleasantly surprised to find my throat healed. It was getting better! Never before like this had happened. There was no fever and I was feeling less pain. Still I decided not to take any chance. Wagle babu, you must get well, I told myself, so no venturing outside this concrete building for the day. Read the book, or sleep as much as you want but no going out. But, the other me countered, you are supposed to interview a celebrated Pakistani mountaineer this evening (9th December). You have to be there at Malla Hotel at 3 PM to meet this man who has climbed Everest and K2, worlds second highest mountain, because there is no way you can cancel the appointment just because you are sick. Yes, in journalism I work on my terms most of the time: I do reporting when I feel like doing (and fortunately, I feel like that writing most of the time). Sometime you can’t really say you don’t want to do this or that because there are some appointments that are difficult to cancel. I hate calling and canceling the appointments, I don’t know why. And I can’t imagine not showing up in the scheduled venue on time without first informing the other side.

No worries boy, you will be rescued.

To my relief, Nazir Sabir calls at around 10 AM to request that the appointment be deferred to the next day, about the same time. Wow, I told myself, that’s what I wanted. “Thank you sir,” I tell him. “I have absolutely no problem. Please enjoy the film.” The chairman of the Alpine Club of Pakistan, who had arrived earlier this week to take part in the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival (KIMF), wanted to see a movie “of my friends.” He says that he just realized the timing of the movie screening had collided with our appointment time. No problem, you want to see the movie and I really need to have rest for the day.

I grab the book that I was reading and continue turning pages. I didn’t watch much TV and didn’t go in front of computer very often. I stayed inside sirak most of the time and kept reading the book. Yes, I slept a lot. “It’s been 72 hours,” Email said this morning (Dec 12), “that you are on the bed. I hope your ribs are all fine.”

“Well, I needed this much of sleeping, didn’t I?” I replied, defensively. “I was waking up early in the morning and leaving home as if the world would stop functioning if I didn’t do so. I was tired of waking up early and sitting in front of computer whole day.”

I don’t remember when I stayed like this in home last time but this is quite fun. Especially the book made my stay in home really a good experience. I must be thankful to that American girl who left the book to me as she went back to the States. I hope to write more about my impression of the book, Kafka on the Shore, by Japanese writer Haruki Murakami after I finish reading it. My initial impression was that the book is just a popular fiction but as I turn the pages, I find it slightly more than that. Story is a bit weird (cats talk and fishes fall from over the sky) but overall combination is okay. I am half way through the book so I don’t think its now time to give my full verdict!

I don’t remember dreaming but I kept imagining all sorts of things. Kafka Tamura, the 15-year-old protagonist of the book was central in most of my imaginations. Mind is amazing, it is so bid. You can imagine so many things that I wonder if it were a hard drive, it could be possible to store trillions of terabytes of information. Sometime it is so much fun to imagine, imagine being on the moon at one moment and swimming in the sea in the next. Everything comes into mind. Lying on bed, covered by sirak, imagine everything you please! Would I opt for the adventurous life that Kafka chooses at 15? I just imagine being Kafka for the moment and decide not be one instantly.

Coming to reality, I went to see Nazir Sabir on Sunday and talked with him about his mountaineering experiences. “Mountains are like beautiful women,” he said. “You can’t really compare them.” Here comes the connoisseur of the Himalayas, I tell myself, with a lead line to my story. I had asked him which mountain he liked the most: Mount Everest or Mount K2. He climbed both mountains in second attempts. First attempts in both himals failed and he considers mountains the Mecca. “These both mountains are equally beautiful and challenging to climb.” He said. Equally challenging like impressing beautiful women? I wanted to ask but that would be too much, I thought and kept listening to him. Then he described in detail about his Everest and K2 adventures, emotions attached with climbing attempts on both mountains. I hope to write the story for my paper this evening. I washed my hair and made my tauko dandruff free. I am ready to move out. I decide to keep the book inside my side pocket of North Face jacket. It will be useful in Nepal Yatayat. The jacket is warm and I hope it will keep me safe from the chill. When I was in Malla Hotel to interview Nazir Sabir, I was quite embarrassed to see myself in this big jacket where as he was wearing a light jacket. I was like who is the real mountaineer among us? Who climbed Mt. Everest and Mt. K2?

Yesterday (Dec 11, Monday) was a complete rest day. Throat was getting well and I wasn’t feeling bad anymore. I was hooked to the book and I spend sleeping in the afternoon. In the evening, power went off because of the weekly load shedding schedule. I continued reading book with candle light. Then the time came for the Indian reality show on Sony (Bigg Boss). I have become a regular viewer of the show but I am not in a position to say if I like the program much.