Hi!I'm from Nepal.I'm trying to get into any colleges from USA. Would my essay reach the mark?
Soliloquy
Ear-hurting volume plunged into my ears and attention moved towards the TV.It was AajTak's wordy news story:free speech,hate speech;multiculturalism;marginalization;extremism;Islamophobia;anti-Semitism;terrorism;fallout from foreign policy;religion and international affairs.This high end vocabulary took my memories back to my childhood.
My father said He must be dead by now.And the pinhole of my house became lenses of reality and the road in-front became a death-ground.You must be beaten for hours and thrown like sack of sawdust.Is this a death?To die in the silence unknown forgotten in the black clouds of barbarism.What if the armies stopped at my house?There I feel my dry throat,my small tongue which swallowed the voice of my feeble breath.I see the blood clots at the middle of road and hear the howl of that silence.But What is hiding us from helping?Why cannot I speak about this bloodbath to anyone?It's because the culprits were different;government-officers killed him.A gunshot interrogated him at chest and all his life bleed out.Then,Did he bleed just to be fodder for ants and flies?
Loud TV channel reminds me of silent radio-stations where we had to hear the total death toll and curfew timetable.There News read:18 of innocent people were shot to cold blood,1000's were injured.It was Nepal's civil movement and long school break galvanized everyone to fight.We students stood with white flags,banners of "STOP FIGHT"before 100 guns.A week later my district-Chitwan-was first district where government put down their weapons of manslaughter.Power of people came to people but mothers won't get their children,orphans won't get their parents and widows won't get their husband back.Removing of rubber bullets out of corpse won't make way for shellacked soul to return.Gods were dead in those boulevard of blood-dipped pellets.None of national Magna Carta made treaty with heaven,none of souls came back.Again,Can a life be redeemed for anything?
My memories flood back to Nepal's earthquake,where many died of same hopelessness.7.8 Richter scale earthquake left 1500-students,staff and local people-with finishing rations next to the international airport where planes flew with food and water.Students divided into four teams for :lodging,food,water,sanitary-medicines.I was wrong about death all the time,death creates just fear but hunger hurts.Hunger hurts when looking at thirsty eyes and drench him with empty hopes of filling pile of empty jars.Each student survived with 2 liter of water per-day;When last two jars remained,we went to an old water spring and brought water and kept ourselves alive until help came.Then,Which life matters?ones who died or ones who survived?
Actually,I always feared and stayed back.Fear raided me:as army bunker,as child militia recruitment program of 'Maoist' revolutionaries.I just stared at a murder,just hold a banner and sealed tongue fearing guns might hear,just looked at myriads of houses razed into ground.
Patronizing myself with these events will be a lie.Many students ran form army's trucks,1000's were killed in-front of houses and many ran to survive during earthquake.Then,did they sacrifice for vain?and Boy died that night just for nothing.I cannot allow life's mount into hopelessness.That day if not that boy someone was going to die in his place,wasn't there a possibility of my death?Then,Am I responsible and Should I mourn for all my life?
Every adversity and setback enkindles the door for new opportunity.Every wall breaks and hate dies.But also,someone else is running today closing his ear and watching manslayer's barbarism.So,If I put this story to myself,it will be prejudice to my past and all the sacrifices will meltdown into a pile of debris.
Suddenly,all smoldering memories came to halt with a question.I might tell my story to the world but how can I make world Listen to me?
Soliloquy
Ear-hurting volume plunged into my ears and attention moved towards the TV.It was AajTak's wordy news story:free speech,hate speech;multiculturalism;marginalization;extremism;Islamophobia;anti-Semitism;terrorism;fallout from foreign policy;religion and international affairs.This high end vocabulary took my memories back to my childhood.
My father said He must be dead by now.And the pinhole of my house became lenses of reality and the road in-front became a death-ground.You must be beaten for hours and thrown like sack of sawdust.Is this a death?To die in the silence unknown forgotten in the black clouds of barbarism.What if the armies stopped at my house?There I feel my dry throat,my small tongue which swallowed the voice of my feeble breath.I see the blood clots at the middle of road and hear the howl of that silence.But What is hiding us from helping?Why cannot I speak about this bloodbath to anyone?It's because the culprits were different;government-officers killed him.A gunshot interrogated him at chest and all his life bleed out.Then,Did he bleed just to be fodder for ants and flies?
Loud TV channel reminds me of silent radio-stations where we had to hear the total death toll and curfew timetable.There News read:18 of innocent people were shot to cold blood,1000's were injured.It was Nepal's civil movement and long school break galvanized everyone to fight.We students stood with white flags,banners of "STOP FIGHT"before 100 guns.A week later my district-Chitwan-was first district where government put down their weapons of manslaughter.Power of people came to people but mothers won't get their children,orphans won't get their parents and widows won't get their husband back.Removing of rubber bullets out of corpse won't make way for shellacked soul to return.Gods were dead in those boulevard of blood-dipped pellets.None of national Magna Carta made treaty with heaven,none of souls came back.Again,Can a life be redeemed for anything?
My memories flood back to Nepal's earthquake,where many died of same hopelessness.7.8 Richter scale earthquake left 1500-students,staff and local people-with finishing rations next to the international airport where planes flew with food and water.Students divided into four teams for :lodging,food,water,sanitary-medicines.I was wrong about death all the time,death creates just fear but hunger hurts.Hunger hurts when looking at thirsty eyes and drench him with empty hopes of filling pile of empty jars.Each student survived with 2 liter of water per-day;When last two jars remained,we went to an old water spring and brought water and kept ourselves alive until help came.Then,Which life matters?ones who died or ones who survived?
Actually,I always feared and stayed back.Fear raided me:as army bunker,as child militia recruitment program of 'Maoist' revolutionaries.I just stared at a murder,just hold a banner and sealed tongue fearing guns might hear,just looked at myriads of houses razed into ground.
Patronizing myself with these events will be a lie.Many students ran form army's trucks,1000's were killed in-front of houses and many ran to survive during earthquake.Then,did they sacrifice for vain?and Boy died that night just for nothing.I cannot allow life's mount into hopelessness.That day if not that boy someone was going to die in his place,wasn't there a possibility of my death?Then,Am I responsible and Should I mourn for all my life?
Every adversity and setback enkindles the door for new opportunity.Every wall breaks and hate dies.But also,someone else is running today closing his ear and watching manslayer's barbarism.So,If I put this story to myself,it will be prejudice to my past and all the sacrifices will meltdown into a pile of debris.
Suddenly,all smoldering memories came to halt with a question.I might tell my story to the world but how can I make world Listen to me?
