Published June 3, 2015 by reginaginaxoxo


I don’t want to write about melancholy,

But my ink bleeds it out.

I’ve heard enough of these follies,

And I cannot fathom what kind of sadness is paramount.

It strikes me when I hear the news,

It just gets worse day by day.

Even my neighbor cries of abuse;

I would’ve been sad , but my lover has gone away.

I don’t know if to be sad for you,

Would redeem my sorrow;

But substituting pain with same wouldn’t be something new,

Therefore I seek refuge in the healing hands of tomorrow.

It is not in my nature to be indifferent,

Therefore I am forever condemned to this wound.

In this hope I’ve lived, in this hope I’ve dreamt,

That melancholy will not be the author of our doom.


Published April 27, 2015 by reginaginaxoxo


The entire world is shaken by the Nepal Earthquake. Death tolls keep increasing every hour and the odds are not in favor of lives anymore. I am not from Nepal but my hometown lies very close to it and I know not what I can do to make myself at ease, therefore I am writing. I am one of those thousands who experienced the tremor and thought the end was near but yet lived to experience aftershocks one after another. News has already become very depressing and despite of my dire ambition to be a journalist, I am personally getting pissed at articles claiming an earthquake will return again with 32 times more power etc etc. I question if the thing I’ve been doing like writing is an insensitive subject. Do the writers writing five thousand miles away from it know what they are writing about? Do they know how it feels to hug your loved ones and call on the name of almighty whilst the ground and the surrounding shake like a dilapidated cradle? The moment is lavished with horror and anxiety and I wonder if people can relate.

Never mind. I am happy enough to be alive and to be writing this but this epicenter keeps shifting like crazy and the latest one was only few kilometers away from my hometown proper. I hope you are aware that this is not a report or general information, it is my personal account meant for my personal blog.

I had felt the first tremor of this saga two nights before the actual calamity around 2 a.m. just after I had fought with my boyfriend, so you know I was not in the mood to sleep. I felt a slight tremor but at that time I thought it was just in my head. Days passed with trivial monotonies with people having no idea what catastrophe would befall on the 25th of April 2015. Early around 11 a.m I was sitting on the bed reading Wuthering Heights with this lazy ass of mine when I suddenly felt my bed being rocked by an invisible force. I, however did not panic at first, it was only when I heard my neighbors crying out loud that I went to the kitchen where my parents were calling out my name. NO, we did not rush out but held on to each other, praying. GOD KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED IN NEPAL THEN!!!!

The quake created fear unknown to us. No love for wealth, home, materials but each driven to save his/ her own life and the lives of the (most) loved ones. The only thing you think about when grappled with this energy is who matters and what matters.

The tremors are being felt since then and nobody knows what awaits us. All I know is that Everest is acting selfish, consuming us to heighten itself. We all look forward to future and imagine it to be Shangrila at its best and an Eden at its least. Reality has always crushed our dreams but what can victims of the quake dream anymore? The life there is left in shambles of destruction.

Many people in and around my region have relatives, family and friends in this particular neighboring country. Imagine the angst and the panic! Phones and networks acting like major bitches creating all kinds of tensions necessary to cry and break down.

The news of familiar people dying is not an uncommon subject and the news of the troubled government giving troubles to the troubled is not a tongue teaser either.

Tomorrow is the day I am to venture south and pursue my dream of becoming a successful journalist. Well, passing an online test I am called for a personal interview in the far south and I have been excited as ever. But tonight seems to be one of the most challenging nights, I hope I make it through along with everybody else. My parents are all out in the open and they have been constantly calling me to join them along with 20 others who plan to spend a night out rather than in their warm cozy claustrophobic homes but the stubborn ass that I am, I continue to stay in and write this for my blog and readers listening to the song ‘shake it off’ by Taylor Swift.

Whatever may happen, I will stay positive and chase this nauseous vibe away (trust me headaches, vomiting and dizziness are becoming so common after the quake and I have no logic behind it).On a serious note please do pray for Nepal and my region in North India that are affected quite as much. Prayers can work wonders but above all it gives us hope and hope is what keeps us driven. Nepal deserves to be a hopeful country once again. The dead have died and ardent prayers are with them but the undead are the ones who will be needing all the bounty and prayers of the world, to be strong, to live on and rise from the ashes.


Published April 23, 2015 by reginaginaxoxo

Amazing piece from someone i know 🙂 do give it a read.



This is a story that really happened a long time back and this is my way of saying Happy Mothers Day to my Mom.

The story begins 18 years back when I must have been around four or five, I don’t quite remember. On a sleepy afternoon in the sleepy corner of a sleepy neighborhood in Siliguri, I curled up in the moss green couch that had been my favorite friend since our family moved from Kathmandu. Along with my purple stuffed dog that I had named Appu after our dog who had recently died, I remember sitting on the couch in the small patio that overlooked the lane that led to the main road. Here it may be fair to add that my Mom called me Appu too. This is what it feels like when you have a long name. People will come up with so many different…

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That House on a Hill

Published March 4, 2015 by reginaginaxoxo


In a land of praises that I’ve already sung,

Lies a distinct hill- dark and young.

Aphotic and murky because the sun is far-flung,

Callow and crude because the wisdom is wrung.

That red roof which points to heaven,

Calls for help, the victims lie within.

They are like you and me,

But benefits not the rose, but the thorn of family.

She was married off as soon as she was ripened

To a man triple her age, of course she was frightened!

His grey hair mortgaged his love for her,

The collapse took place when she begot a daughter.

The angelic face was his tattoo of disgrace,

He couldn’t love her for she had her mother’s face.

Abandoning them could’ve been easier,

But instead he preferred to stay and torture….

Day in and day out, a drunken ol’ man was all he chose to be,

Spitting and cursing his way home dragging his knees.

When hate brimmed seeing his bloodline a daughter,

His rage ruptured to beat the mother.

He bragged about his young mistresses to show he could do better,

But never brought them home for want was one and society another.

A man domesticated by society,

Yet ruined by the same entity.

Years passed-

He was alone and forlorn, stagnant in bed.

Who else to look after him in age if he never had a son?

Bruised old man, found his aid in the selfless care of two abused women.

He shut his eyes and his soul drifted further,

But a monster inside him still wished he never had a daughter.

-Regina Gurung

Fashion over Men

Published December 16, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo


Here’s my advice to you girls –
Never never give up on those splendid heels
Those majestic curls
And those invaluable pearls.

Keep reading if you want to know more,
Heartbroken or hung-over and need a cure?
It’s just a long poem for sure
That my haters will not endure.

If you’ve reached here, then read-on
Sometimes I talk of ‘ex’perience and witchdom
Like Eve was for Adam,
And Eve again for Fashion.

Caught between the two, her green coat came to the rescue,
She wore it on her date with Adam named Andrew
Two winters later her warm coat was still brand new
But where was Andrew? He had bid her adieu. 

Heartbroken for a while
She lost her heart but with a smile. 
Learnt a lot about Andrew and then Kyle
But above all learnt to value her style.

Damsel is meant for a beautiful sundress,
Not distress
could king be more powerful than Her Highness
In the game of chess?

The cycle continues
Every new dress is her muse,
Every heartbreak leads to new shoes,
Just kidding, if you know me well heartbreak is an excuse.

For Eve does what she likes,
Who cares if its stripes or motorbikes?
At the end of the day it’s about who has her heart
Will it be Romeo in distress or an online shopping cart?

You decide on that,
I’ll read what I just wrote……..
Cold and lonely as I end my note
I’ll recline back to my warm and loyal green coat.

A Beautiful Dream of Death.

Published November 29, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo


Her soul finally took its liberty,

The bodily bondage gripped with head, shoulder and the knee,

Death seemed to be the only key

That embraced mortals with eternity.

She’s gone now,

No monument of words and vows

Could fill the hollow

And her final sigh was her taking the bow.

Life had entertained her,

The tales she told proved her domineer,

A balanced being- kind and austere

A person I adored calling her grandmother.

It has been ages since her departure,

But why haven’t my lines spoken of her?

She used to live on this sphere,

Very much like you and me, thinking she had forever.

This of course, was the half- truth,

Our death isn’t the reason of birth,

Condemned maybe we to earth,

But our soul is more than worldy worth.

There’s this day which you ought to know,

Like me you’ve lost someone you loved…so here I go,

Do not judge for the words take turn,

Listen to my lines for life returns.

Not exactly the way you think,

But clouds turn silver and skies go pink.

His eternal grace draped in orange,

Stands imperial looking down the heavenly range.

This day the blessed spirits visit,

The place they used to call home, whilst.

Dressed in the finest silks of heaven

The only day when heaven lies open.

The home made holy with burning incense,

The incense made holier with their presence.

Close to the heavens driven by angels, they weave

The breach made my Adam and Eve.

The limited time they get from above,

To visit the worldly ties and proclaim their love

She told me too, forever does not consist of adieu

Because love once shared is always true.

With that said, she prayed and blessed

My tiny home without her addressed.

Her being in ethereal raiment

Became one with the earthly element.

Suddenly the earth seemed like earth,

Place for death and no spiritual rebirth.

But the fragrance of the incense

Lingered to deliver the sense.

I woke up then, it was all a dream,

It felt all so real, it couldn’t have been!

I had known something I had never known

That death is the darkness before the dawn.

Conquest of the Conqueror

Published August 5, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

Strolling down the perils of hardship that maketh life,
A silhouette descending as men die in sunset,
I, again a common shadow was drenched in love and strife
Aimlessly strolling concluding something awaits.
Strolling down the perils that hope gives,
A silhouette starts ascending back to the hill
Sunset still, but the shadow leaves
Face to face with the perils is a power of will.
Marching up not towards the grave
But success- that still lies far away
Giving up or being brave?
We’re growing up to pave our own way.
Rocks and stones comes rolling down as perils
Mind that it’s not you strolling
They can knock you down and compile all ills
Determined shadow, striving, not strolling.
Marching on high to resist the odds,
Pace it up and there, you conquer!
Those same rocks and stones applauds,
The same hazardous life, you wish was longer.
Some give-up halfway, some reach the zenith
The victory rolls
And the world is underneath!

So be it what I seek.

Published August 4, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

You are definitely familiar with what I am going to write. Has it occurred to you the unfathomable soundless crash which you experienced for the first time, and you could hear yourself make that murmuring promise amidst the heart piercing sobs that you’re never going to experience the same thing again because you are going to guard the most precious yet so common attribute that makes us too sensitive for our own kind? Who knew our greatest strength could also be our greatest weakness? Feelings. Familiar much? You have that right? You are containing it inside of you when you are reading this. Don’t get me wrong I am not expressing my feelings here as it is assumed to be the labor of the desperate. I recall that one of my first poem which happened to be published in a local magazine was entitled ‘’feelings’’, God knows what a ten year old me knew then about the very subject that today I stand groundless. All I am saying is that I am guilty of having feelings.
I had sworn to myself after my first heart break that I would never be careless again. Years after struggling to be scornfully wiser, I found myself making the same promise. Which of course lead me to analyze the commonness and the vagueness of the same thing and as a genius that I am needless to say I failed. Somehow I just mustered myself to share my thought with you because I don’t want to feel alone in this indefinite cycle. People randomly come and go in the breeze of which we forget that we are not a by stander, we are as involved. Most of the times we do not make an effort to stay or to make them stay and when we selectively try to hold on to them our expectations fall short. It is not their fault and what those bitchy quotes have to say about wrong people leaving is not true either. It is not their fault nor is it ours. What do you expect in a world where fakeness is given priority? And to be bluntly honest with you, my dear reader I am as fake as the world is because I blend in. Anyway that is not my topic, I am rather awed by how spectacular each day is getting. Living everyday and experiencing as little a change how can it be suddenly so profound? Who are making those changes and why is it happening?
Trust me I am no scholar but these miracles that happen every day is beyond my comprehension. Everything changes, yet it repeats. We move on but we make the same mistake again. It’s the human hunger… for more. Nothing has, nothing will, nothing ever will satisfy our hunger. Feelings are as selfish, it demands to be expressed but when we do so it is not enough. Feelings expressed are only a quarter of what it is felt. Therefore, it is never enough. I knew what the outcome of having feelings would be and yet in pride I swelled and declared and eventually the truth prevailed. I would never be happy because I wanted more than what I already had and same with the other person.
In the end, despite of wanting more we reluctantly oblige with limited happiness and that we call it a compromise. It’s our fundamental law on which relationships thrive and that is how a lifelong relationship is maintained. But feelings, refuses to be tamed. We don’t govern it; it governs us that is the reason why we have humiliating cases of unrequited love and poems. Feelings don’t compromise and that is why I doubt if it was ever meant for humans.



Published July 7, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

How I thought I had it all figured,
The story that only lives in the past
Should’ve manifested with a better outcome
And should’ve made fragments more than just a mere memory.
Did it make me all that I am?
Or am I still in the process of being something I am not, but should be?.
Those major arcanas show me hopeful
Those crystal balls go green,
I am excited yet so scared
Of what my life will be.
The rhymes of que sera sera
Whatever will be will be.
A larger portion of my life in learning and etiquette
Leaves me with a meager sum to live
To love more or to understand.?

The vehicle around town for a day
Adorned with flowers and reading signs of ‘’just married’’
And that is the problem with JUST
It is not going to stay forever.
You can have the’ JUST’ for a minute or for a day
But it will eventually fade away.
The momentary ‘JUST’ suspends the outcome
And in its wide but narrow arms we find solace.
A comfort of postponing with the word.

So I thought I had it all figured,
But older you grow
Less wise you become.
For in those tiny hands you had back then
Was JUST tiny but would mould the clay in your way.
With age we lose power and give in to those who could control us,
Not to those who should.
Not a clue where to go next,
Not wanting to settle for less
Searching all heaven and blue
For the tide to push me forward
….and also for the excuse.
You know me well when you read me,
When in JUST ten minutes I scribble with a pen
Just that life has got me saturated
Why you may ask?
Because my life is marked with infinite JUSTS
And as of now I JUST Graduated
And that is the problem with JUST,
the beginning of it always ends.

The Cloud

Published June 17, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo


The magnificent trivialities that poets have forgotten to ode
Must’ve been fated unto the cheap ink of an aspiring poetess.
In the round where we live,
Variety and difference merge into one, not to simplify
But to complicate.
The free wide breathing blue
From where, I believe, oblivion starts.
Distant for science but nearer to the eye
I blend into the enchantment but just as an observer.
The spacious blue engulfed by what afore seemed a specimen of art,
Ate up the joy of being invincible.
The same wicked white now layered in hierarchy.
Formed out of benevolence they say,
But only the scattered ones in the west seem abundant of heavenly bliss,
Where an innocent and desperate eye expects to see a castle.
Illusion chooses itself, mortals can only imagine.
Transcending from the stained golden I observe an advertised white
Pure, glowing and ruffled.
Swelled with consecration in its purest form,
Still stretching in the hope of being heavenly stained.
The grey treading after the white fades into a symbol of oblivion,
The color black where the man who pronounced the existence of silver lining,
Was literally true to himself, observing a dark cloud.