Month: February 2014

विशुद्ध नेपाली भाषाको परिकल्पना

The quality of Nepali language taught to students in Nepal is on a downward trend if we are to analyze the way the language has been handled by the students around the country. Most of the students have established themselves as an English enthusiast. With most of the schools integrating English into their curriculum, it is plausible to assume that interest towards Nepali has declined or that they hesitate to learn more about their native language after their junior high school years are over.
A while back, as I was teaching my brother some basic rules of Nepali grammar, he appeared insipid and suggested me to put less effort into teaching him. I asked him about the reason for his indifferent attitude. The obvious reason which I assumed and as he explained later was that Nepali language would lose its importance once he passed ‘Iron Gate’ and would not fit the equation in his quest for a glittering career ahead. We would get a similar story from young folks around the country as well.
शुद्ध नेपाली भाषा जान्न एकदमै जरूरी छ।  
The present folks have lost the track of Nepali language fitting their national identity. They only care about speaking in a non-fluent manner. After all, they prefer to communicate verbally than through texts. We can hear them speaking in a mixed English and Nepali. Gradually, there are occasional cases of colloquial phrases that make little sense to the public. Some of them get accustomed to this habit as they feel the need to boast their international language skills. As a citizen, it is expected that you are fluent in both the written and oral aspects of your native language.
The other problem that linguists face is the ambiguity that Nepali writers, both in the media and the classrooms, present in terms of keeping up with the traditional approach to blending the phonetics to write a word. Hraswas, dirghas, patalo “Shas” and moto “Shas” are all the many problems that have hindered the beauty of Nepali language. The issue has not only troubled the professional writers but have been used as an excuse by the students to relinquish their love for Nepali.
Language do change as time passes by but the prospect of giving up to write in a pure language is a sign of abandonment to the nation and the culture we revere. For those struggling to make a mark in Nepali language should be encouraged to improve Nepali with more focus on getting to know the charisma of Nepali Language. If we neglect to inspect Nepali language from such an early age, there will no one left to speak and write our history a few centuries later. The next generations would have to depend on other languages to share their stories and it is a sight we would not even dare to see in our dreams. 
It is crucial to learn pure Nepali everywhere you go and not just for the sake of being a Nepali but to give it life for many years to come. We should not forget to revere Nepali in its pure state. That’s the last piece of advice I can give if you are a Nepali.

A DAY IN THE KITCHEN

Well, I already know the expression in your face. “Does he know how to cook?” Trust me, I have complete faith in my cooking skills and can even challenge more would-be-cooks (I have two friends in my list already).
Putting aside my bragging rights, I present you with my journal of slicing bodies and the third world war with the green producers.
Much to the banal routine that you see with your mothers, I started my day by waking up at around seven-thirty. That is two and a half hours after my mother’s alarm stops her sleep. Since we are religious folks, we make sure to wash the idols of our gods and goddesses. And so I did. Easy task, huh. Well, it is much more easier than you may think. From my childhood days, I loved to lend my hands when it came to washing utensils and cleaning the kitchen. So I loved to get my hands dirty in order to make my home clean. That is how it worked. There was only one obstacle that could hinder my routine: the freezing cold water! But, my ten years of stay in my Alma Mater, situated in the hills, taught me to neglect the shiver that greeted my hands. So, job done.
Moving on, I had my breakfast. To make it easy, I ate cornflakes and added some milk to get the maximum from it. The dress rehearsal for my kitchen war was over. It was time to invite the inevitable. I was gonna make Manasbi-curry (there is a reason to this name which comes later). 
I had been accustomed to realizing the key ingredients for curry but had sporadically mixed them when my mother was around. So, I had to estimate the quantity of salt and pepper in a delicious ratio. After sometime, the curry was ready and it smelled like heaven.
And you guys thought  I wasn’t good in the kitchen?

I waited for another thirty minutes to cook dal and once again, I got to tell you it was full of delight. When I served lunch for my mother, she was thrilled by the smell but noted that the flavor of salt was too faint in the curry. I had already a point to consider for my dinner plans. But, when someone is hungry the flavor doesn’t really matter. This philosophy had saved me at least for this time.

The end of lunch signaled the beginning of my passion to wash dishes. With my playlist making the work more enjoyable, I managed to clean the utensils with ease. Lovely.
I had a break until tiffin popped out. It is good to look for easy tasks when you are new to the job (well, actually it’s just that cooking really has not been a part of my DNA). Hence, I prepared beaten rice for the tiffin and decreased the trouble to cook by serving the pickle I had prepared in the morning. And if we were still hungry, dalmot was the perfect saviour. 
Slowly, as dawn neared, I returned to the kitchen and started preparing mushroom curry. I was adept at slicing tomatoes and onions. The knife perfectly synchronized with my daunting task of creating an á la carte. It appeared as if the curry was ready to acknowledge my innate cooking skills. I was gonna prove that the mistake early in the day was instrumental to preparing a perfect dish.
After nearly an hour, my mother once again acted as a customer. This time, the dish was polished. She was happy to have her son cook nearly-perfect meal (in my case, perfect is about 30% better than the day). The night dishes sparkled after we had a great dinner. It was time to cherish the golden moments of the amazing chef!
As I dozed off, I saw a dream where my mother said in an evil tone, “Do you think that once is enough? Have you enjoyed to be in the kitchen?  Hurry up, start your next kitchen war!” I woke up in an instant and entered the kitchen to have a sip of water. I had forgotten to wash some utensils! Once again, I found myself immersed in the beautiful kitchen war.

STATS: FOE IN DISGUISE?

I came up with this topic after Federer lost to Nadal in the semifinal of the Australian Open. That was because news circulated that the other finalist Stanislas Wawrinka had never won a set against Nadal in his previous twelve meetings. In the final, however, Nadal was beaten to allow Wawrinka get a hold of his first Grand Slam. Now, there were no mention of the statistics that had dominated the media prior to the final. I mean, is it fair to go along with the stats that appear in the screen and predict the outcome in the next meeting? 
Many a times this season in EPL, we have seen teams down the table beat the top four teams in their home ground and defied the statistics that swirled in the minds of the player when they entered the ground. Some records were more than fifty to a hundred years old. 
Statistics do rule a large part of our lives. We make most of our decisions from the details we confront in various situations. The exam results are largely based on statistics. We predict the best performers from the previous performances. So is the case in other disciplines like business, medicine and engineering.
Do numbers tell us the complete story?
Statistics have the upper hand in influencing the psychology of certain events. For example, doctors prescribe new medicines based on the success rates that those medicines had in a previous group of patients. The success rates force the doctors to believe on the medicine and hope that it won’t cause any negative consequences. 
On the other hand, some statistics compels us to calm down our senses whenever the same incident comes again. Talking about my supporting club Arsenal, it has never lost a match in which Koscielny and Mertesacker have played a full ninety minutes in the last two years. Now, every time I watch them play I have a spidey sense about the end result: win or draw. It is based completely on statistics. The bright side is that Arsenal fans tend to worry less about the end result!
It seems naive to get fooled by statistics. There is no concrete evidence to support our claim. Probability just cannot make the outcomes as it wishes. It is entirely a theoretical conviction set up by the mathematicians. Moreover, it neglects all the possible scenario that can affect an event. It may delineate an approximate value but the complete story is ambiguous. 
All we can ever do regarding the enigma of statistics is to cherish its richness. Although it fails to sparkle our conscience, its psyhological influence is appreciative. Sometimes it can be reliable and boost our confidence. Sometimes it acts as a betrayal to our friendship. Whatever the case, statistics will continue to baffle us and serve as a perfect example of a two-faced character: trustworthy or blood thirsty betrayal.