Siddhicharan shrestha biography of william hill

In eastern Nepal, the Okhaldhunga District is one of 14 districts that make up Province No. 1. The district, which has its headquarters in Okhaldhunga, has a population of 156,702 in 2001 and 147,984 in 2011. It occupies an area of 1,074.5 km2 (414.9 sq mi) and has a population of 1,074.5 km2 (414.9 sq mi).

Okhaldhunga is located between 390 and 3627 meters above sea level. Between Khotang, Ramechhap, Solukhumbu, Udayapur, and Sindhuli is this district.

How does Okhaldhunga get its name?

It is thought that the word Okhaldhunga comes from a stone in the form of an Okhal that can be found in Okhaldhunga VDC 6 at Shiddeswor Park.

Okhaldhunga: Hills and Valleys Harmony

Credit:nepaltraveller.com

There are several legends about the origins of this location's name. Any of them can be seen during:

Mahabharata Period

Bhim is said to have eaten his food in Okhal by consuming rice. A stone with a lot of cracks. A big grinding stone known as Okhaldhunga can be found at the district headquarters.

Malla Regime

According to another account, Bhim Malla was sent to the eastern part of the country to lead the troops in an expansion. Kiraat ruled Okhaldhunga at the time, and by displacing the Kiraats of that place, they arrived here and ate food by beating rice in a deep hole stone similar to Okhal. As a result, it was given the name Okhaldhunga.

Introduction to Okhaldhunga District

This is a developing neighbourhood that is rich not only in natural beauty but also in cultural heritage. This location is part of Wallo Kirat, which is home to the Rai and Sunuwar ethnic groups. We can also include Limbu, Magar, Tamang, Bhujel, Newar, and other ethnic groups.

Okhaldhunga: Tranquil Hillside Beauty Captured

Credit:Wikiwand.com

This district contains a number of religiously and biologically significant sites. The attractive point of this location is a range of rivers, waterfalls, hills, caves, and religious sites. 

The ma

Yuga poet Siddhicharan Shrestha has a famous poem - 'Mother, whatever they say / I am not a bahula.' He says, 'I am still fine, I have to lovingly explain to my mother and the society that nothing has happened to my mind. Especially what is happening to the society?''

is in his song - the story of the forgotten life and tears of mothers. For 6 decades, Nepali has been seriously discussing the real suffering of the society - Deep Shrestha's song. However, he is not only a singer of sorrow and tears, but also a singer of love and compassion. He also addresses Saili, who is going to pick tea by plucking Gurans flower, which is Deep's famous song - 'Guransko Phool Siuri/Betko Tokri Boki/Ek Suiro Dui Paat Pn Tipn/Sainlivari Teabarima'. The

song has a long streak, Deep's. They sound – tender, passionate and full of love. His hundreds of songs are on the menu - 'Biteka Kura ke Kuch Chhot Lagda', 'Bhanthi Meri Uni', 'Widhwale Sindoor Ko Rahar', 'Jheerma Uninu That Euk Kura', 'Kati Roak Hyha Bhagya', 'Ma Ta Dur Di Aien', ' I am a traveller', 'I am not a stone god' etc.

Introduction
A Quiet Space for Poetry in Nepal

Kathmandu. Nepal. October, 2016

Things seem to have settled back to a normal routine in the Himalayan capital. People have forgotten the earthquakes that shook the nation last year, killing thousands, making millions homeless, erupting political mess and triggering a Nepal-India border standoff followed by fierce protests in Nepal Terai, the lowlands, emptying the streets of the mystic city, the cafés and teashops that shut down for the want of cooking gas and kerosene along with new-found superstores of the new republic.

I wake up in my new house. To straighten my thoughts and find a quiet moment of my own, I decide to walk across the flooded river to a tin-roofed makeshift teashop. I sit on a small wooden bench and place a sheaf of loose wide ruled paper sheets on the wooden table in front. I shuffle the stack and try to trace the translations I’d gathered for a special Nepal folio of Drunken Boat. The sheets have been compressed, soiled and dog-eared at places, illegible from being handled along with other items in my black bag for months; the edges have frayed from my travels across the globe.

I flip through the tattered papers, trying to find the last files that I worked on before commencing my journey to the West. I carried the stack with me but barely had time to look at them. In New York, the headquarters of my travels in North and South America, I settled in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Every night I moved from venue to venue in the mega city, and infrequently moved from city to another, Upstate New York—Beacon, New Platz, Goshan, Middletown—New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Daytona Beach, Key West and took a flight to Argentina. I came back to New York to travel inside the United States again, Chicago, Sacramento, Los Angles, Erie, Akron, Cleveland, then flew back to Delhi to wander in the streets of famous poet Ghalib and finally flew over the racing clouds to Kathmandu.

The day I landed