#best knife in nepal

[aki-natsuko]

“I’ll give you anything. I’ll give you everything. All you have to do is ask.

    Ramattra studied Hana as she worked on his arm. Her hands were steady, fingers deftly working between delicate wiring, and twisted, broken metal slick with oil and other essential fluid. The flurry of worry, and anger that had greeted him when he’d first staggered through her door had disappeared, locked behind an intense focus that in that moment reminded him of the monks back in Nepal. A focus that he envied. His focus was different, ever moving, ever growing.

A future that fluctuated with every step he took.

Every choice he made and action he did.

Every moment spent with her.

He watched her fingers dance amongst the damage, unbelievably delicate considering the strength he knew ran through her like iron. Unbearably gentle, as some distant part of him knew that there was danger in this moment; and there was a hesitance now as he lifted his gaze to her face. It was there that her focus revealed itself to be a lie, a shield against everything else. He had learned to read her expression in a way he had never done with any human, and now his gaze rested on the way she chewed on the inside of her cheek as though fighting to hold back words, the scowl that had settled into place. It was her eyes that told him the most though, a hint of moisture betraying her worry, and the fire in them as she sensed his gaze and met it for a moment, telling him that she was still angry.

At those who had hurt him, or at him for walking into danger, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t that good with human emotions, although studying her, he had a suspicion that it was both.

“You’ll live…” Her voice after an hour of intense silence startled him, and he reared back and looked down at his wrist. The worst of the damage had been patched up while he had been distracted, and if he had been anywhere else, he would have cursed himself for allowing himself to be so unaware of what was happening. But here, where there weas only the two of them, he felt…safe. And there was danger in that.

“Thank you,” he murmured, flexing his wrist. The metal grinded, not completely in place, but functional.

“I’ll fix the rest in the morning,” Hana said, following his gaze as she wiped some hair out of her face, smearing her cheek with oil.

“You don’t have to,” Ramattra said, even as he reached out to clear the smear away. His fingers lingering, as though magnetically drawn to the soft warmth of her skin. This is dangerous.

“I want to. If you promise not to get busted up again, for at least a month.” He could tell the last bit was added reluctantly, for all that she tried to inject her usual levity into the words. She was worried.

For him.

 About him.

 Because of Him.

“I promise.” He hadn’t meant to say it, the promise slipping out without his permission. Dangerous. He couldn’t promise that at the best of times, let alone now when pieces were falling into place, and the future he had dreamed of for so long loomed on the horizon. A future that hadn’t included Hana… a future…

“I’ll go clean up and then we can hang out, unless you need to rest?” Hana’s voice, the soft concern that had replaced the levity, shattered his image of the future and as she rose to her feet, he reached out and grasped her wrist. Gently. A  gentleness he had never thought he could possess after he had chosen to leave the  monastery and take the path that lay before him. A softness that had the potential to cut like a knife.

“Hana…” She turned to look at him, half-smile fading a little as she tilted her head in question and for a moment he was lost. Caught between this moment and the future he had always envisioned. It was like being stood on a knife edge, and if either of them moved wrong it would slice deep. He needed to let the moment go, to let her go, but she stood there, at ease with his hand on her, comfortable in his present. Revelling in it, the softness in her eyes his undoing. “I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything,” he unravelled, laying himself open for her. “All you have to do is ask.”

Hana blinked at the words, at the way his touch tightened as though afraid she would flee before his words.

“Have you been in the holovids again?” She asked.

“No, I…” He fell silent, recognising her teasing for a defensive mechanism. Hana always turned to levity when she was hurting or unsure, just as he subsided into silence. Two sides of the same coin. “I mean it.” The words were steady, not reflecting the splintering that was occurring deep inside himself. He meant it, and that scared him.

There was silence for a moment, Hana staring up at him, only the slight widening of her eyes betraying the fact that he had caught her by surprise. Then she was pulling slightly, tugging her hand out of his grasp, and he let her go. He would always let her go if that was what she wanted, just as he had always come back, because she had asked him to in a rare moment of vulnerability.

She stepped back, and he let her go. Watching as her arms started to creep up, ready to wrap around herself in a hug – retreating from him, from the world, from his words… Then she paused and lowered her arms and took a deep breath and just smiled at him and shook her head.

“Hana?” He asked, confused.

“The one thing I want to ask, is the one thing you can’t give,” Hana said,  and she sounded so old. So, world weary for a moment, that he ached for her in a way he had never thought possible. She closed the distance between them, coming back to him, her hands steady as she reached up to cup his face, staring up at him. Her smile sad but full of promise. “So, I’m not going to ask.”

[mortraveling]

Tips and Tricks Guide for Travelling and Trekking in Nepal

Tips and Tricks Guide for Travelling and Trekking in Nepal Deciding to visit Nepal is one of the best decisions you can make, this beautiful country has a whole host of amazing places to see, things to do and moments to experience that will take your breath away. The best way to find these special moments is by doing what Nepal is famous for, trekking through its spectacular landscapes to see as much of this country as possible. This guide will help you decide on some of the best places to trek whilst also giving you some tips to make sure you’re ready. Tips and Tricks Guide for Travelling and Trekking in Nepal Annapurna Base Camp Trek My top recommendation for Annapurna trekking would have to be the Annapurna Base Camp Trek, this is a 13-day organized trek to see some of the mountains Nepal’s famous for including Mt. Annapurna I, Mt. Annapurna III, Mt. Gangapurna and Fishtail Mountain. Just some of the highlights of this trip include trekking through some of the forests and countryside of Nepal before reaching the Dhampus hilltop where you can see a selection of the mountain ranges all around you and this is only day 2. Day 7 is when the trek reaches the Annapurna Sanctuary which is surrounded by beautiful mountains said to be home to the Hindu Goddesses Annapurna and Gangapurna, you’ll explore here for an entire day before heading back. The rest of the days are spent trekking through Nepal’s beautiful scenery taking in the sights and sounds that make up Nepal before arriving back in Kathmandu on day 13. Annapurna trekking is not the easiest thing to do but is definitely one of the most rewarding. Everest Base Camp Trek Obviously, this trek had to be included as Everest is Nepal’s most famous mountain, in fact, it’s probably the most famous mountain in the world. A trek to Everest Base camp is a great way to see this iconic mountain without all the expense and danger of trying to reach the summit, that’s a whole other level of trekking. Reaching the base camp of Everest is a fantastic way to see some of the historic Buddhist monasteries and meet the local Sherpa community that is the lifeblood of the country, all of these experiences lead up to the best view of the iconic snow-capped peak of Everest. Trekking Tips Depending on the trek you’re thinking about undertaking there is a range of factors to consider, the first and most important one being how fit are you as a gentle stroll and trying to summit the peak of Everest will obviously require a different level of fitness. You have to make sure you’re prepared to walk for hours every day over difficult terrain which leads me to my next tip, boots. The boots you wear can make or break a trek as walking for miles in a pair of cheap boots you got on offer a while ago will turn a dream trek into one you wish was over. This is the one area where you really don’t want to spare any expense as the right boots will last you for years through many different adventures. Finally, my last tip will be to always pack essential supplies, these are the universal items that will come in handy if you need them, things such as a map of the area, compass, warm clothing, first aid kit, matches, torch, a knife and always more food and water than you need. via Blogger https://ift.tt/Ua8DkJv April 22, 2023 at 07:41PM

[nepalbazaartrade]

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[drfroebindia]

Commercial Bowl Chopper Machine in India

Dr. Froeb India Machines & Equipment specialize in manufacturing and supplying a wide assortment of products used in the food processing industry. Our name is noted among the reputable Meat /Vegan and food processing machine suppliers, India Nepal, Bhutan, and Srilanka. We have also our manufacturing unit that has all the advanced tools and technologies to design and develop products according to the specifications demanded by our clients.

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A full range of bowl chopper Machines made entirely of high-quality stainless steel with high knife speeds and extra thick cast stainless steel bowls. The bowl chopper machine knife speed combined with the speed of the rotating bowl can be used to produce a variety of products from ground pork and hamburgers and beef burger mixes, skin emulsion for use in poultry products, the chopping of vegetables, fruits, fresh meat, and salads as well as processed cheese and fresh pork sausage mixes. This bowl chopper cooked also fish, vegetables, fruits, and other edibles at temperatures from -18 (-1 °F) up to 85 °C (185 °F).

[theoutcastrogue]

Khukurī (kukri) types and accessories

[a compilation of articles by Peter Dekker, Mandarin Mansion Antiques, 2020; text and photographs licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License]

The Khukurī (खुकुरी )

A Nepalese khukurī, 1850s

The khukurī (खुकुरी) is the traditional utility and fighting knife of Nepal. It is strongly associated with the Ghurkas, a Nepalese soldier class. Khukurī are characterized by a forward curving blade that widens considerably before forming a fairly sharp point.

The knife goes by many names, but the best-established names and their romanization are khukurī (खुकुरी ) and the simpler khukri (खुक्रि), both appear in comparative and etymological dictionary of the Nepali language of 1931. [1] The simplified word kukri is in common use today, mainly among English speaking collectors.

18th century

The first few reliable images we get of early khukurī  are two 18th century pieces, exhibiting striking similarities even though one is in a Chinese collection and the other was illustrated by an English expedition party.

First, an 18th-century khukurī that appears in the Palace Museum collection in Beijing.1 It was probably captured in battle or presented during the signing of a treaty during the Tibet-Ghurka conflicts of 1788-1792.

Khukurī in the Palace Museum collection, Beijing.

The relatively narrow handle with minimal flare in the pommel is also seen on Kirkpatrick's depiction of the khukurī, the first such illustration to appear in European sources.

Early illustration of a khukurī. From Colonel Kirkpatrick's 1793 account of Nepal.

Another early piece, most likely the late 18th century, was obtained by Lord Egerton in 1855. It was published in his book Indian and Oriental Arms and Armour and is now in the Victoria & Albert Museum. V&A accession number: 3095(IS).

One of the Egerton khukurī

This piece has some early features like the shallow kauro (notch), and the overall form of hilt and blade. The workmanship looks Indian, and it may have been made by Indian craftsmen.

19th century

Some well known early 19th-century depictions of khukurī are in the Fraser Album. A few of them were actually made, commissioned by William Fraser (1784-1835), a late Mughal era British India civil servant in Delhi.

"Nepali soldiers" from the Fraser Album, published 1819.

Notable features seen on khukurī in these drawings are:

Long hilts with gently flaring pommels

Black enbroidered scabbards with small chape

A recurved shape to the scabbard

Types

Hanshee khukurī (हँसिया खुकुरी)

The hanshee khukurī or simply hanshee is an early type of khukurī that is characterized by having a long hilt and a rather long and relatively narrow blade with a strong curve. Other than most types of khukurī which double as fighting and utility knife, the hanshee appears to have been purely used as a weapon. 

The word hanshee derives off the Nepali word hamsiyā (हँसिया) meaning "sickle". Another term used is lambendh, which supposedly means "long handle" containing the word lambe (लम्बे) meaning "long" in Nepali.

The hanshee appears to have been most popular in the late 18th and early 19th century and seems to have fallen out of use by the mid 19th century. Khukurī researcher V.K. Kunwor of Ghurka antiques writes about the hanshee: "These Kukri knives were very popular in the unification period of Nepal (1750-1770) and continued to be used in the Anglo-Nepal War 1814-1816 and up till the Indian Mutiny 1857, from whence it declined in popularity." He also writes that one of the defining features is a handle length of at least 13 cm.

Budhunē khukurī (बुधुने खुकुरी)

The fat-bellied budhunē khukri (bottom) compared to a more conventionally proportioned khukri (top)

Budhunē khukurī (बुधुने खुकुरी) is the name of a variation of khukri with a short, broad blade. It is a term that appears in the Comparative and etymological dictionary of the Nepali language of 1931.

Bhojpure subtype: The term Bhojpure turns up in John Powell's unfinished manuscript on the khukurī. Powell notes that it is a term later in use for the earlier budhunē type.

Well known khukurī researcher Viking Kunwor, writing in 2020 adds: "The Bhojpure (from a town (Bhojpur) in the mid hills of eastern Nepal) is one of several styles within the larger Budhume group (a term which is a based on a broad bellied fish spieces). The many tribes can be attributed to these weapons such as Limbus and Rais make only the deeper bladed Bhojpure, the Gurungs, Tamangs and Chhetris make the seerpat and the Newars are the artisans who are responsible for many of the finely carved wooden scabbards, intricate decoration and engraved blades."

Sirupātē khukurī (सिरुपाते खुकुरी)

A sirupātē khukurī of the early 1800s.

Sirupātē (सिरुपाते) is a word commonly used to describe a long, slender version of a Nepalese khukurī.

The word sirupātē (सिरुपाते) appears in Ralph Lilley Turner’s A Comparative and Etymological Dictionary of the Nepali Language of 1931 and is described as: "सिरु-पाते siru-pāte,adj. Long and slender like a blade of siru"

Siru (सिरु) is the name of a local plant. Pātē (पाते) means "leaf". Turner gives the meaning for siru (सिरु) as the name of two varieties of grass or reed: (1) Imperata arundinacia (= khar-siru, used for thatching); (2) Imperata arundinacia var. latifolia. (Another possibility may be Hypoxis aurea which is called ban siru (बन सिरु) locally.)

Kothimora khukurī (कोथि मुहुड़ा खुकुरि)

Kothimora khukurī refers to a khukurī in an ornamental scabbard, usually with elaborately worked silver mounts but sometimes found in silver with parcel gilding or entirely golden mounts as well. 1

The term primarily applies to the scabbard, there may be a very mundane khukurī inside, although in some cases they were produced together and both of a higher than usual quality.

The word consits of kothi (कोथि), and muhura (मुहुड़ा). Kothi (कोथि) is the Nepali word for the silver chape on the scabbard of a khukurī. 2 Muhura means “face”. Colonel J.P. Cross states that the full wording would be “kothimora dap bha'eko khukurī”.  This would literally translate to "silver chape face scabbard done khukurī", written in Nepali it is कोथिमुहुड़ा दाप् भएको खुकुरी.

John Powell, a pioneer in khukurī studies, distinguished three main types: The "Palace or Court kothimora", "regimental kothimora" and the "box kothimora". He also noted that many do not fall into these set categories, and those can just be referred to as kothimora khukurī. 

Palace or Court kothimora: Usually with black leather covered scabbard with gold or silver scabbard mouth and endpieces. Each fitting worked in repousse or engraved, frequently with the National Coat of Arms of Nepal. 

Palace or Court Kothimora khukurī

Regimental kothimora: The most commonly encountered type. These were primarily made for Ghurka soldiers. Powell describes that sometimes these were just regular fighting khukurī that were brought to the metal worker to fit the scabbard with a fancy dress, usually in repousse silver, as an honour permitted to men of valor.

As military weapons, they sometimes come with regimental insignia, but are more often encountered decorated with traditional local elements. Their wooden scabbards can be covered with leather or silk velvet.

A large kothimora khukurī.

According to Powell, in the British Indian army, regimental kothimoras were worn only by the Pipe Major (senior bagpiper) when on parade and senior NCO and ORs of the Officer's Mess. They were also presented to retiring Ghurka officers, or when an officer moved up rank.

Box kothimora: The main defining feature of this type is that the scabbard does not have separate leather or fabric pockets for karda and chakmak, it is all integrated in a single case, often clad in sheets of silver going around the circumference of the scabbard, and with mouthpiece and endpiece much like the regimental kothimora. These seem to have been primarily pieces that were presented to civilians.

A box kothimora khukurī presented to wildlife conservationalist Peter L. Achard between 1947-1966.

Accessories

a "trousse khukurī" of the first half of the 20th century

Some items are often stored in the khukurī scabbard alongside the main knife.

Karda (कर्द)

Karda (कर्द) is the Nepali word for a small utility knife that was traditionally carried in the scabbard of a khukurī. The term comes from the Persian word kard (کرد), meaning "knife". A typical khukurī carries one, but some carry two of them in their scabbards.

Karda typically follow a similar construction as their parent khukurī, with wood, horn, bone, silver or ivory hilts and a metal bolster. The blades are usually more straight than khukurī.

Cakmak (चक्मक्)

Left: Five cakmak, right: Five karda. Notice the subtle differences at the pommel side and the absence of an edge bevel on the cakmak.

Cakmak (चक्मक्) is the Nepali word for a small knife-shaped fire and sharpening steel that was traditionally carried in the scabbard of a khukurī. [N.B. must be from Ottoman Turkish چاقماق / Turkish çakmak, "firestriker" (and later "lighter") < Common Turkic *čak- (“to strike”)]

The worked pommel ends of cakmak.

Cakmak typically follow a similar construction as their parent khukurī, with wood, horn, bone, silver or ivory hilts and a metal bolster. For easy recognition when sheathed, the back of the hilt is often grooved or ribbed, in contrast to the smoother backs of the typical karda.

The decoration helps differentiate them from the smooth-pommeled karda when sheathed.

The blades are usually shaped like a straight knife, but sometimes also shaped like a khukurī profile. Contrary to the karda, blades on cakmak are typically dull.

Khisā (खिसा)

Khisā (खिसा) is the Nepali word for a small purse that was traditionally carried in the scabbard of a khukurī.

The purse was usually used to hold tinder consisting of the bark of the sago palm, bamboo, or plantain. The tinder was called jhulo (झुलो), literally meaning "fiber".

— Peter Dekker, Mandarin Mansion

[kestrellady]

So has anyone talked about where the heck Jonathan's Kukri knife came from? You know, the knife that's almost a short sword, usually associated with the Ghurka people of northern India and Nepal? We're in the height of the British Empire here, but it still couldn't have been that common a weapon in England. I've only ever seen it used (in fiction, at least) by people closely associated with India, usually Brits who served in the army. So, where did Jonathan get it? And why is he so comfortable with it that he just grabs it when he needs a weapon?

He's surely not old enough to have served in India before training to become a solicitor, right? Because that's the best explanation I have for why he has a frickin' Kukri knife just lying to hand when he wants a weapon.

[nitewrighter]

Now i cant wait to see Genji confense to Zenyatta about overwatch and Angela !

Gooooddd this has been languishing in my drafts since... god I don’t want to think about it. Forever. But tonight I get it out!!

-----

Steam puffed up over the food stand, the warmth in the air intermingling with the crackling sound of fryers. Genji watched as the Omnic vendor skillfully scooped several chicken momos up from the fryers and set them in a paper-lined cardboard tray, holding it out to him. Even well into the night, Kolkata was thrumming, vibrant, noisy and alive--Delivery drones buzzed overhead, hover-mopeds weaved between packed buses, hovercars honked their horns, and omnics in Shambali garb were attempting to start up conversations with irritated Vishkar representatives on the sidewalks. Zenyatta watched all the bustle with his usual patience-with-underlying-shrewdness. They had been traveling together for nearly a month now, but Zenyatta had been called back to the Shambali monastery in Nepal earlier than he would have liked and, as he explained it, Kolkata was the easiest place for them to drag their feet without Zenyatta’s brother sending more reminders their way. Zenyatta didn’t seem particularly resentful of Mondatta, but there was a definite hesitance in his return to Nepal that spoke to some complexities in his and Mondatta’s relationship.

They were able to find an isolated enough alley for Genji to keep his hood up and head down as he quickly stuffed down his dinner before clicking his faceplate back on and heading back out to the main street. Genji watched as a bright blue hovertram streamed by, so packed there were a handful of humans and omnics virtually hanging off it as they rejoined the crowd on the street. The press of human and omnic bodies here was different than Numbani--with Numbani there seemed to be a careful cultivation of the ‘City of Harmony’ image, with clean-scrubbed streets and gleaming buildings, and carefully outlined street and foot traffic for optimum efficiency, but here felt closer to reality--the clamor of voices and the natural messiness of shared spaces, the streaming of bodies moving in different directions, pooling and spiraling around each other like water. He didn’t feel like he stood out here--the crowd was so mixed between humans and omnics that the eye glazed right past him. He and Zenyatta fell behind a group of pilgrims, a mix of about two thirds omnic and one third humans. Genji studied the organics. He recognized the look of some of them--those searching for truth and identity, like he had been, like he still was. They were dressed in bright colors and their conversations were peppered with aphorisms from all the Shambali’s best-selling books and Mondatta’s holovid speeches. At least one of them had dabbed on a bit too much patchouli oil. Genji gave a glance back at Zenyatta.

“So what is your hesitance in returning, Master?” asked Genji, looking back at the group ahead of them. He had only been calling Zenyatta ‘Master’ for a little over two weeks now, but it felt easy. Felt natural.

“The journey is just as important as the destination, my student,” said Zenyatta as they walked.

Genji gave him a slight, ‘Come on’ head tilt, and Zenyatta tented his fingers, composing his thoughts.

“As machines, the Shambali have been able to adapt our--their message, to human agendas. And this is well and good--there is no reason why the Shambali’s message of peace should be incompatible with already present human social constructs.”

“I see...” said Genji, a little wary that Zenyatta was going to launch into another pondering monologue where the words ‘Pedagogy’ and ‘commercialization’ swam in and out and Zenyatta would ultimately end with a hand wave and ‘But I suppose it depends on the individual,’ or something like that.

“Omnics do not need to sleep, so the Shambali can travel as much as they need--But I do have concerns about treating our ideals as a machinated export when ultimately we strive for unity between the organic and the--” Zenyatta cut himself off and perked up at the odd ripple that seemed to be going through the crowd.

“Master?” said Genji. He looked around the crowd, trying to see what Zenyatta was seeing. People were stopping mid-step and pulling out their phones, some bumping into each other but barely glancing up. Couples and groups that were walking together stopped and exchanged concerned murmurs in Bengali and Hindu and english. Genji suddenly felt a seed of anxiety growing and spreading from the pit of his stomach, phantom limb pain prickling throughout all of his prosthetics. Something was wrong. Something felt wrong. The group of pilgrims had all but dropped to a standstill, several of them crowding around a human’s phone. She had her hand over her mouth. Two or three of the pilgrims were speaking English.

“The Headquarters?”

“It couldn’t be an aerial attack could it?”

“Do they know who did it?”

“God I hope it wasn’t Null Sector... If Omnics get blamed for this--”

“What about Talon?”

“They beat Talon--”

“They beat Doomfist. Doomfist isn’t all of Talon.”

That prickling anxiety that manifested as phantom limb pain now was rushing hot along the skin of his neck and cybernetic jaw as he looked around. His armor felt claustrophobic around him but his head was jerking around this way and that, looking desperately now. Headquarters? Talon? Newsfeed. He had to find a newsfeed.

“Genji...” Zenyatta said his name as if trying to pull him back to the present, but this fear was the present, it was pressing in on him like the crowd. His head swiveled to see people accumulating around a pawn shop window where multiple holoscreen projectors of various ages were displayed. He rushed through, ninja training guiding his feet and the angle of his shoulders, sliding through the crowd like a knife until he reached the front of it. The holoscreens of the shop window were displaying the news in numerous channels and Genji’s eyes fixed on the familiar face of the news reporter Olympia Shaw. The television was muted, of course, but there was captioning. Before his brain could make out the words, his eyes fell on a helicopter or drone shot hovering over a massive building semi-obscured by multiple columns of smoke.  The complex cluster of plaftorms at the building’s western side were blackened. There was a recognizable patch of green at the building’s heart--a courtyard, that soon was obscured by smoke as the wind shifted.

Zurich. Zurich Headquarters.

The explosions took place only minutes apart. Both Strike Commander Morrison and Reyes were in the building when the explosions occurred--- Olympia Shaw’s mouth moved along soundlessly to the captioning on the screen. Something chilled in Genji’s stomach. Zurich headquarters itself had been many things over the years with Overwatch, during his long stints in physical therapy and during Blackwatch’s suspension, it had felt like a prison-like box, but there were a few nights...

Eyewitnesses have told Atlas News that Doctor Angela Ziegler, formerly known as the Overwatch agent ‘Mercy,’ who was reportedly resigning from Overwatch, is apparently inside the headquarters attempting to rescue personnel. There has been no--

Genji suddenly had the physical sensation of dropping rapidly through a dark, cold space. 

He wasn’t there. She was in trouble and he wasn’t there.

Genji...

The tone of her voice was distant. His entire body tensed as the memory of late nights in the lab arose. He remembered her snorting laugh in the small hours of the morning, her shoes kicked off and her legs tucked close to herself in her swivel chair. 

Genji--!

He remembered their elbows interlocked in Havana, the burn of rum flushing across her nose and cheekbones and shining in her eyes. 

Genji?!

He remembered her stooping over him, wet lab coat hanging off of her, her glasses fogged with the steam of the therapy pool. 

“GENJI!” Zenyatta was gripping both his shoulders and he found himself standing in that crowded street in Kolkata, the televisions still glowing behind him. 

“I’m okay,” Genji said, “This is fine--it’s not fine--I’m going to fix it--I just need to go--”

“Go--?” Zenyatta started.

“I need to go,” Genji was breaking away from Zenyatta, already walking. He would have broken into a sprint if it weren’t so crowded. “I need to go--She can’t--I left her but I can---” Breath didn’t seem to be coming to form the words. Maybe if he just kept walking...

“Genji, you’re having a panic attack,” said Zenyatta.

“I don’t get panic attacks!” Genji snapped.

But he did get panic attacks--he just thought he left them behind in Zurich. Burning Zurich. Burning Zurich where Angela was and she was in trouble and he wasn’t there and he hadn’t even said goodbye when he left like the fucking heartless self-absorbed piece of shit he always knew he was. He was still talking. He wasn’t sure if he was talking because it kept the shortness of breath away as he moved but Zenyatta was floating after him as closely as he could in the crowd.

Zenyatta suddenly seized Genji’s shoulders again. “Genji!” he spoke clearly and a small orb of harmony suddenly alighted next to him.

“You have to let me--” Genji felt his own hands gripping Zenyatta’s wrists. He had fought Null sector Omnics before. He wondered how much physical force he needed to get Zenyatta off of him but Zenyatta’s fingers tightened into his shoulders with a furious grip.

“YOU. CAN’T. CONTROL THIS.” Zenyatta’s voice was deeper than usual, startlingly commanding. Enough to shock Genji into a space of neutral confusion.

“Wh--but...” Genji’s breath was still short.

“...you can’t control this,” Zenyatta’s grip on his shoulders loosened, “It is not your fault you can’t control this. It does not make you a bad person that you can’t control this. It is an event happening 7,430 kilometers away, and you can’t control it. It doesn’t mean that it is irrational that it is affecting you deeply. It doesn’t mean that it is nonsensical that it is hurting you deeply. But the only thing you can control, right now, is your own reaction. Can you even breathe right now, Genji?” 

“I--I--”

“Start with that. Start with breathing.”

The respirators of Genji’s cybernetics were audible as he drew in a breath.

“Again,” said Zenyatta.

Genji drew in another breath, held it for the same amount of time as it took to draw it in, exhaled with that same slowness. Drew in another, held it, exhaled. 

“You are here. You are in Kolkata. There is cement beneath your feet. There are green and growing things springing up from the cracks in the cement--” Zenyatta’s voice was short, but not unkind.

“But Zurich--” Genji started.

“You are not there. You are here. And you are breathing.”

Genji consciously drew in another breath. “But I have to--”

“We are still learning what is happening over there,” said Zenyatta, “How long do you think it will take you to get there?”

“I--I don’t know...”

Zenyatta paused, calculations running through that Omnic mind. “The fastest flying vehicle available would get you there in four hours, but you do not have the resources for that. Commercially... it would take at least 8 hours. What do you think the situation will look like in 8 hours? 6, even?”

Genji wasn’t really sure what to say to that. The consciousness of his own breath seemed to slow things down though.

“You don’t know that either,” said Zenyatta, answering the question for him, “...we’re going to get away from the crowds and find somewhere to sit down.”

“I can’t do nothing...” Genji said quietly, as Zenyatta was already leading him away.

“I know. It is a very admirable trait,” said Zenyatta, “But you are doing this.”

“Which is nothing!”

“It’s not nothing. Right now, there are only two people you can help--”

“Two--?”

“You can help yourself, or you can help me,” said Zenyatta.

“Help you??”

“Help me help you.”

Genji was quiet for a few seconds but it was more of an incredulous processing of Zenyatta’s words than anything.

“I think we should walk,” said Zenyatta, “Will you walk with me?”

Genji just dumbly nodded and let Zenyatta lead him away. They walked several city blocks in relative slience, Genji trying to return to his breath. 

“This world... it can be full of... unbearable cruelties. All we know can be wrenched out from underneath us in only a few moments,” Zenyatta spoke as they walked, “I cannot pretend to know how to fix it. I suppose... that is why I left the Shambali. I cannot stand to be around those who will happily claim they can fix your problems when they don’t actually know that it will. I... am utterly petrified of disappointing people... all the time. So I disappointed the people who meant more to me than anything, and now I am here with you. Hope is one of the most painful and terrifying things you can let into your life. It is all I can do to try and instill hope in other people as a resilient and living thing. You call me master when I am constantly questioning whether I am worthy of such an address.”

“Are... are you all right?” Genji’s voice was quiet.

“No,” said Zenyatta, plainly, “And neither are you.”

A long silence passed between them as they kept walking. The world seemed too upended to call the motion comforting, yet at the same time, staying still would have made things feel like they were curling and collapsing all around them. Movement as grounding seemed like an oxymoron, and yet that was the space Genji and Zenyatta found themselves in. They were in a more residential area now, cigarette, weed, and hashish smoke sinking down on them from the balconies above.

“When you were watching that newscast, you kept saying things like, ‘I left her.’ Back when we were in the Banu Tufayl tribe’s encampment, you said there was someone who made you believe in your work... someone who you clung to like a ship’s mast in a storm,” Zenyatta said after a while, “Is she in Zurich?”

“Yes,” the word came out of Genji more choked than he intended, his words felt tight, “I can’t leave her--she saved me, so I have to--I have to...” Genji pressed his fingers to his forehead plate.

Zenyatta tented his fingers thoughtfully. “It has been said, one of our greatest means of dealing with grief, is confronting the reality that we may lose the ones we love. Confronting the eventuality of that loss.”

“I can’t do it now--” Genji said , his voice tight, “I can’t-- I didn’t even say goodbye to her... I wasn’t sure if I could say goodbye---”

“...still reeling from the Zurich attacks---” a crackly voice sounded overhead and Genji stopped in his tracks, his head jutting upward. 

“Genji?” said Zenyatta.

“You there! With the radio!” Genji shouted at one of the apartment balconies overhead. A portly middle-aged man with a receding hairline leaned out over the balcony.

“Can you turn it up?” Genji called.

The man shrugged and disappeared back behind the balcony.

“Genji,” Zenyatta spoke gently, “I’m not sure if harassing random people can really--”

The crackle of the radio audibly got louder.

“--Angela Ziegler is unconscious but stable at Zurich hospital--” the radio sounded. 

A shuddering breath of relief fell out of Genji. “She’s... she’s alive,” he said, looking at Zenyatta. 

Zenyatta gave a nod and a noise that was midway between laugh and sob fell out of Genji.

“As I said,” said Zenyatta, “There is much we can’t control but--” 

Zenyatta was cut off as Genji suddenly caught him in a tight hug, his cybernetically armored shoulders shuddering with those not-laugh, not-sob sounds. “She’s alive... she’s alive,” he kept saying.

Zenyatta patted his shoulder with some unsureness, “And so are you.”

[foomantra1]

History of Khukuri | Kukri Making Process - All you need to know!

History:There is no evidence and confirmed source or document on when and who invented khukuri but most people believe that khukuri is invented in Nepal. Khukuri is the national weapon of Nepal. also, the pride of Nepal and sometimes Nepal is known for khukuri.

 There are lots of beliefs on how the kukri came into existence. most people believe that khukuri is originated from  Nepal and which knife is first used by the Malla age, at that time who is ruling Nepal in the 13 century. We can see the khukuri which is used by malla placed in the National museum chaauni in Kathmandu Nepal which shape looks similar to today's khukuri. 

Also, some people believe that khukuri is used in the Kiratis age in the 7th century before the time of the Lichchhavi age. And the shape of khukuri has been changed so drastically.  we can see the oldest khukuri in Nepal displayed in the National museum chhauni in Kathmandu which belongs to the former Nepali king in 1627 AD Drabya Shah.

 In Nepal, Kami(born kukri maker, mainly called Bishwakarma (BK) is cast who made is continuously khukuri from ancient time. they are expert in making metal products they doing for a long time they produce high-quality knives and professional knives, maker. Khukuri is multipurpose tools that are used in the military to home daily activities. some of the common utilities are cutting meat, vegetable, slaughtering animals for food etc.  You can buy high-quality handmade khukuri in Foomantra in the USA.

process of making khukuri: Generally, khukuri is made in two ways that one is the traditional way and another is industrially way where a large number of knife made. We are going to tell you how is it made in the traditional way in this article. Many of us know In Nepal, An expert called kami (Bishwakarma) is the best khukuri maker in the world. They are in this field for a long time, years of experience and knowledge made them the best maker.

Measuring and Cutting  :

Khukuri is made up of steel. it is important to have the required length of steel pieces. expert first choose the steel and cut it into the required size. Then heated the steel into 800-900*C in a charcoal oven (Which is also called Chulo) then it hammered into a heavy hammer against a sharp metal cutting Chisel. it may take up to 5 hrs to break the steel apart.

Shaping the Khukuri :

After the measuring and cutting process done then We need to do shaping the Khukuri. It is generally done we heated the steel up to 1000* C and we hammered it to get the required shape. The steel expert uses about 1.5 kg hammer to bring the rough shape to real shape. This step required a lot of time and regularly heat and bitten gently all over the surface over and over to get the required shaped.

joining Handle:

After shaping the khukuri another step comes that's joining the khukuri into the handle. The handle is normally made of either buffalo horns or bones rosewoods, hardwoods or even sometimes metals, we choose it depending upon the requirement. Then We join the khukuri with the handle using the heated laha.

Shining and Testing:

This is the last step of making rough khukuri to shined & beautiful khukuri. Both the blade and handle is shined and make smoothened with the help of a buff shining machine. After this, The khukuri is tested to verify if the khukuri is ready for the international market or not. All the khukuri is tested manually. observed for any cracks or unwanted pop-out. if the khukuri is passed all of the tests then it's ready for the international market.

[babywarg]

Drpepperony Prompt: In her search for a way to help Tony, Pepper finds a very unique group of people in Nepal.

Hi @mistressstrange! Thanks again for another lovely prompt. This one went on a bit long, but I hope you like it 😘

Er, it pretends Iron Man 3 and the Doctor Strange movie happened at around the same time frame 😺

[8/22/2019: Have to put up this obnoxious note again: NOT ACCEPTING NEW PROMPTS AT THE MOMENT. Thank you for understanding 💕]

***

Anxiety, said the therapist she’d had to consult in secret, because Tony reacted badly when she suggested he see a specialist himself. Panic attacks. Possible PTSD.

She immediately recalled the time Rhodey told her about the “freakout” Tony had at the restaurant (“Please don’t tell him I told you - knowing him, it’ll freak him out more.”) That time she tried to wake Tony from a nightmare, and the Iron Man armor pinned her to the bed, sensing her as a threat.

The time when Tony’s Malibu house was blown up. The final confrontation with Killian, and Extremis.

All those times when Tony couldn’t sleep, and when he slept he had nightmares, even after Extremis had been eliminated.

Rest, the therapist said, when Pepper asked what he needed. Lots of it. And an arsenal of relaxation methods. He should learn how to recognize the signs of anxiety so he can better manage it.

She tried to get him into yoga, visit support groups, meditate…but all of it bored him. Pills were ineffective and made him feel “wonky” besides. He cut his caffeine and alcohol consumption, which helped some, but he also became irritable and depressive.

In short, despite her best efforts, he showed no promising signs of recovering.

She had said they needed a break…she had been hoping she and Tony could take that break together. But he refused, claiming he couldn’t imagine he’d be able to rest if he were taken away from his work.

So she took a week’s leave from work, to try and seek a cure by herself.

Pepper didn’t know exactly what was plaguing the man she loved.

But she was damned if she was going to lose him to it.

***

She heard there was a guru in Kathmandu, a “miracle worker,” who could get even the most tensed-up person in the world relaxed.

She flew into Nepal to meet him herself, and found him a complete and total quack.

So, no guru to bring back to see Tony. With days to spare, she decided to take some time for herself, and see the city.

It was what she did when she was younger, before her busy years in Stark Industries: she would travel, then break off from her tour group and wander alone, taking in the sights and sounds and enjoy just being somewhere different.

It was refreshing. No one knew her there, and no one expected anything of her.

Until she found herself herded by two shady men into a dark alleyway.

She could hold her own, that was true. But the two she thought she had whupped had come back with support, and six against one was simply more than she had trained for.

She was starting to get overwhelmed, when he heard a deep male voice yell for her assailants to stop.

At first it was just one person - a white guy around her age, with a scraggly beard, wearing very plain brown robes and a monk’s hood.

The other was a man in blue robes, but who wore a hood as well. He hung back until the first man cried out:

“Mordo! A little help?”

Then the other man smirked. “Looks like the two of you don’t need any,” he remarked, before unhurriedly jumping into the fray.

Unfortunately, though they were fated to win, given that her two new companions appeared to have above-average martial arts skills, Pepper was already winded by the time they arrived, and could not defend herself well.

One of the assailants had a knife. It tore a mean gash on the inside of Pepper’s forearm.

Unnamed guy noticed it only after all the attackers had been soundly knocked unconscious.

“Mordo,” he breathed, as he inspected the gash, “she’s wounded. She has to come back with us.”

“No,” the man exclaimed, seeming to know exactly what he meant. “Strange!”

Before Pepper’s eyes, a glowing portal appeared out of nowhere.

And the man leapt into it, with his arms around her.

***

Pepper shut her eyes as they entered the portal, and found herself in a sort of monastery.

She would have had more time to observe her surroundings, but she was already being half-dragged down a corridor by the man, who had not released her.

“We have to move quickly. You’re losing a lot of blood.”

She wasn’t sure what the man meant. She wasn’t feeling any pain…

But that was when she realized the man also had his hand on her arm…and that hand was glowing.

Glowing.

And shaking at the same time, though that was perhaps to be expected, given how bad those old scars on it looked…

Was the glowing what was stopping the pain?

Mordo, who had followed through the portal, was striding behind them. He seemed upset.

“We don’t just let outsiders in the way you did,” he was telling the first guy. “The Ancient One won’t approve of this.”

“I’ll deal with the Ancient One later,” was the level-headed response. “In the meantime, please get the medical supplies from Wong.”

With a final glare, Mordo left to do as he was bid.

Pepper took a bit of time to realize she was being herded by unfamiliar men a lot in this city - was she just taken to a secondary location? Was she unsafe?

But all thoughts of being unsafe fled her mind when the man sat her down on a large, ridiculously comfortable pillow, and raised her entire arm, applying firm pressure both on the wound and on a vein in her upper arm.

This guy knew what he was doing.

“Relax,” he said to her, “I’m a doctor.”

A doctor whose hands could glow and who could defeat armed opponents while completely unarmed himself, and open sparkly portals that could take him from one place to another in a heartbeat?

…Okay.

“You saved me,” she remembered to say through the confusion. “Thank you.”

He looked up into her eyes briefly, and she was stunned.

What a strange, captivating color…

“No need for that,” he replied, almost smiling. “But you’re welcome.”

***

As it turned out, she needed the next few days to recover.

Doctor’s orders.

She was in some sort of monastery…forbidden to go to certain areas, which she really wasn’t driven to explore anyway.

She really had lost a lot of blood. The day after the attack, she just wanted to stay in bed, eating the sparse but healthy fare she was given, and enjoying the view.

Her room had a brilliant view.

She had booked a decent suite for her journey, which promised a good vista of the city…but what she was given there was nowhere near as majestic as the one she got in that monastery.

“Lovely. Isn’t it?”

She turned and saw the unnamed man from last night, standing at the doorway with his hands behind his back.

But the man was looking at her. Not the view.

She wasn’t creeped out, however. It didn’t feel as if he was checking her out, or radiating any sort of ill intent.

She felt safe and relaxed in this place, in his company.

“I know people who’d pay a pretty penny for a view like this,” she confessed.

“Well, donations are always appreciated,” he disclosed. “But not compulsory in the least.”

“Not even after you saved my life?”

The man snorted. “Please, you could’ve taken them all by yourself.”

It was a joke, she was aware, but a well-meaning one. Which made her smile.

“I honor my debts,” she said, offering her hand for him to shake. “And I’m in your debt, Doctor…”

“Strange.” He took her hand. “But you can call me Stephen.”

***

As Pepper regained her strength, Stephen showed her around the unrestricted parts of the large monastery - which she learned was called Kamar-Taj.

Strangers who didn’t come for religious purposes were uncommon there, but not unwelcome. And she learned she was allowed to stay by their leader, the mysterious and reclusive Ancient One, who was out of grounds at the time and was not available for her to thank personally.

The monks lent her a cell phone for making international calls, and Stephen lent her his laptop so she could tell people about her whereabouts. She sent out a mass email saying she had an “incident” and would be staying a bit longer. She was canceling her flight home, but rebooking.

When?? was everyone’s frantic question.

When? was Tony’s weary, sleepless, desolate inquiry. I miss you, Ms. Potts. A hell of a lot.

“As soon as I can, Mr. Stark,” was her immediate reply. “I miss you a hell of a lot, too.”

All through everything, Tony remained foremost on her mind.

As they spent more time together, Stephen came to vaguely explain the magic that they learned in Kamar-Taj - about how they weren’t exactly secret, but weren’t exactly public knowledge, either.

Pepper got his meaning off the bat. She had been around people with superpowers, and understood the need for a measure of secrecy.

He also told her a little about himself. His life in the States. His old practice. His accident. How it might have been the best thing that happened to him, though it still gave him pain, in more ways than one.

(That last part reminded her of Tony as well. The ordeal in the desert, from which he emerged a changed man. The pain from the scarring that he would not - could not - let go of.)

In return, Pepper told Stephen about her boyfriend. The one she’d come to Kathmandu for. The most important person in her life.

And Stephen listened. Patiently. Until she found herself apologizing for talking his ear off.

“Please don’t be sorry,” Stephen said calmly. “Before, I never really appreciated the privilege of hearing someone talk about the things that matter the world to them. Now I do. I can tell you’ve kept all this in for a long time, and I’m honored by your trust.”

She liked him. A lot.

She wished she could take him back with her.

“I think you could do him a world of good, actually,” she thought aloud.

Stephen frowned. “You mean, because he needs a doctor?” It sounded like he was preparing for an argument.

Pepper smiled.

“No,” she assured him. “Because he needs a friend. Someone who may understand what he’s been through. Someone he’ll listen to.”

***

“You seriously think that’ll get me interested?”

“All right, then, enough about being friends. Now I’m asking you to see him as a medical expert.”

“Not that kind of doctor.”

“Just once! What’s the harm?”

She had to use her powers of persuasion to get him to agree to her request to join her on her trip home. It took a few days, too. He was stubborn, almost as stubborn as Tony…

But as with Tony, she could tell he liked her, too. In a way that meant there was a limit to how long he could say “no” to her.

“Fine,” he groaned eventually. “I’ll meet him. Just once. For a medical examination. Then I’m coming back.”

It wasn’t what she wanted, but she was going to take it. She’d convinced him there wasn’t a doctor in the world she trusted as fully as she did him.

Which was, in a way, true.

She’d talked to Tony about him, as well. From their phone conversations, he seemed genuinely interested in Stephen. But of course, that might just have been because he saw Stephen initially as someone who saved Pepper’s life…

But he didn’t take kindly to the notion that he was going to be given a medical examination. He’d avoided seeing specialists all that time - he was doubtful that a “doctor” of vague expertise, who could do magic, could be what he needed.

Pepper sighed. Their first meeting was probably going to be strained. But it was still worth a shot.

On the day they were due to leave, Pepper waited for Stephen at the monastery’s gate. She was surprised to see him for the first time in Western clothing - slacks, a jacket, black shoes, a round-neck shirt.

And with his beard neatly trimmed, into a shape that suited his face well.

Pepper admitted to herself that she possibly, just possibly, had a thing for vain men with meticulously trimmed facial hair.

“Ready to go?” he asked her.

“All set,” she answered. “Got your ticket?” He’d better. It was a pricey ticket. Business class.

He smiled wryly. “Miss Potts…you should get your money back from the airline, before it’s too late for a refund.”

He made a familiar gesture with one hand, and a portal opened in front of them.

On the other side of the portal was Tony’s workshop in upstate New York.

***

Tony was hopped up on caffeine and jumpy when they arrived.

In fairness, a shimmering portal opening out of nowhere was going to make anyone jumpy.

But seeing Pepper cooled his blood instantly. He trapped her in a tight embrace.

“I was so worried,” were his first words to her.

When they broke apart, he cradled her bandaged forearm delicately in his hands, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the bandaging was expertly done.

That was only when he paid attention to the other person in the room.

“Dr. Strange, I presume?” Tony looked him up and down.

Stephen stepped forward and offered a trembling hand for Tony to shake.

“Stephen, please,” he said pleasantly.

Tony ignored him and addressed Pepper again.

“So…what, is he staying? Should I fix up one of the spare rooms?”

“No need to bother,” Stephen interrupted, withdrawing his hand. “I won’t be here for long. I’m just here to do what’s necessary, then go back to my training.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony faced him squarely this time. “And what are you training to be, a model for some off-the-rack fashion line for high school librarians?”

Instead of getting puffed up, as Pepper feared, Stephen raised an eyebrow.

“Clearly I’m in the presence of an expert in dressing himself. What’s that, two, three sizes too small?”

They stared each other down. Pepper’s impulse was to intervene, but she was stopped by the fact that she felt no hostility at all between the two men.

Not even a tiny bit.

Presently, Tony started walking past her.

“I like this one,” he said casually, with a casual pat on her shoulder. “Well done, Ms. Potts. I’ll go get his room ready.”

She caught his hand before it slid off his shoulder and he walked past her, out of the workshop.

Stephen watched him go, then sighed. “I gather a medical examination isn’t forthcoming,” he ventured.

“Probably not today,” she answered, smiling. “You could stay the night if you want, or travel back to Kamar-Taj.”

Stephen looked back at the door where Tony had exited.

“I think I’ll stay,” he said pensively.

Something clicked just then. It was going to work out, having Stephen here to check on Tony. Pepper just knew.

She’d gone a great distance to find a way to help Tony.

It seemed she’d found exactly what she was looking for.

[izzy-b-hands]

The Last Place to Rest

I don’t know exactly what this is, but it happened. I just finished the Good Place and listened to a lot of blues, maybe that had something to do with it? Idk. 

Anyway, a bit of original writing that I didn’t plan on doing today, but I couldn’t get it out of my head until I had it written down. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Still swinging?” 

“Still.” 

The ground is cold beneath them, barren dust that drifts on the breeze, forming dust devils when the breeze whips into a frenzy. The devils dance across the ground around them. 

It stretches on for miles. 

“Awful long time for him to still be swinging.” 

“Sure is.” 

They share an apple, and a knife, cutting off slices and passing them back and forth. The dirt, brown and grey, has permanently stained their suits. 

“Think we should stop him?” 

A shake of the head. “You know we can’t. Gotta stop all on your own.” 

“I know. But we’re the only ones that ever stick around for the newbies. Seems wrong to let ‘em flail so long.”

“Isn’t wrong or right anymore,” A bit of the apple slice, a shrug of the shoulders. “Just is.” 

The sun sets, and rises, and sets, and rises. They finish the first apple and then a second and a third, each one appearing in one of their hands as soon as the last slice is swallowed. 

“If he don’t stop soon-” 

“Then that is unfortunate, and we’ll have to keep waiting.” 

“Hal-” 

“Don’t!” Hal interrupts and stands, tossing him the apple and the knife. The apple he catches, but the knife just misses and stabs the dirt beside him. “It is what it is. We could go. We don’t have to stay.” 

“I know,” The knife is wiped as clean as it can get on his trousers; after a while the grit adds as much flavor as anything else. “But you don’t want to go.” 

Hal sighs, and sits, a hand reached out for the apple. “No. I don’t, Sachin. I don’t know what else there is here. And I don’t know that I want to find out any time soon.”

“What do you want to do then?” 

“I want this jackass to stop swinging,” Hal says, and points to the gallows with the knife before cutting off another slice of apple. “I mean, really.” 

“Maybe he doesn’t know?” 

“Know what?” 

Sachin shrugs. “That he’s done for. You said it took me at least two hours before I stopped. I didn’t want to believe it at first.” 

“Yeah, but that took you two hours. It’s been two days. I thought, by now, surely...” 

The body still swings, back and forth, like a pendulum. Not the erratic jerks of a body still dying, but one as if pushed by the breeze, or as if one trying desperately to escape the noose before the fall. 

“Who’s going to stop us?” Sachin asks. “And even if there is ‘someone’, what more can they do to us?” 

“I guess I don’t know.” 

Sachin climbs the stairs to the gallows, and reaches out with a tentative hand. The bodies never look dead. But then again, they never will, here. 

“I’m going to stop you now,” he says softly to the man’s face, with its closed eyes and pale lips. “I hope that doesn’t...break anything? I guess. I don’t really know what’ll happen.” 

He bites his lip. “But it seems a cruelty to leave you like this. Eventually, we all gotta come to terms with it. Least I can do is help you get to that point.” 

The drop to the ground wouldn’t be far, but it’s far enough to make him careful as he grabs the man’s legs, stopping him. 

Hal watches from the ground, a slice of apple halfway to his mouth. 

“I don’t think it-” 

With a thud, the rope slips, the man drops from his hands, and falls to the ground beneath the gallows. 

They pause, and stare at one another. 

“Well. He stopped swinging,” Hal shrugs. “You want me to check on him?” 

“No, I can do it, let me!” 

Sachin is down the steps in a rush, dust hanging around him, disturbed with his every step. 

But the man is up before either of them can get to him, crawling out from underneath the gallows. 

“No rush,” Hal murmurs. “Take your time...” 

The man shakes his head. “Me?” 

“Your name, is what I’m after,” Hal continues. “That pause was for you to say it, friend.” 

“What is this?” 

Hal blinks. “That’s not a name, but alright. Only so much time for manners, in eternity, I suppose.” 

“Eternity?” 

Hal rolls his eyes. 

“Be nice,’ Sachin hisses. “You didn’t know either, at first.” 

“I got here before you! 1307, after-” 

“Please, ignore him for the moment,” Sachin interrupts, moving to help the man stand. “I’m Sachin. Welcome to...” 

He gestures broadly to the wasteland, grey and brown and dusty and ongoing and his smile falters. “Here.” 

“Yes, but where is Here?” the man asks.

“Somewhere,” Sachin replies. “As far as we know. Now, I should tell you-” 

“Apple!” 

“Oh, look at this one,” Hal teases. “A regular Einstein. Very good, this is an apple. You can split the next one with us, if you like.” 

“This is Hell,” the man says confidently. “Because of the apple, the sign of the first sin, and-” 

“It really isn’t that deep,” Sachin tries to interrupt, but the man is a steam-train derailed. 

“I was doing good; I don’t deserve this! Who knows what you two did, but I know what I did, and-” 

“Son,” Hal says softly. “Both Sachin and I like apples. Simple as that. You can bring your dive suit to this puddle, but that doesn’t mean there’s anywhere for you to dive into it. It just isn’t that deep. Got it?” 

The man stops. “Cam.” 

“You are?” Sachin asks.

Cam nods. “But if this isn’t Hell, then it must be something, somewhere else. It can’t just not be, that isn’t how things work.” 

“You know you’re dead,” Sachin says slowly. “Oh thank goodness. One less thing to worry about telling you.” 

“I mean, I doubt it,” Cam scoffs. “I bet this is where you go during comas. That branch I had tied my rope to broke, and man do I hate that my tour guide was right about that, and now I’m in a hospital in Nepal or something, in a medically induced coma while they let my body heal. I’ll be awake in moments.” 

They watch, and sit, as Cam flops onto the ground, eyes screwed shut. 

“...are you just gonna keep laying there?” Hal asks after an hour. “Because I hate to break it to you-” 

“Don’t lie,” Sachin says as he takes the four millionth apple they’ve shared that epoch (or maybe millennium, it’s hard to remember sometimes, when time doesn’t fully exist anymore.) 

“Okay, he’s right. I absolutely do not hate breaking this to you, because frankly, you seem like an ass. But if you’re right, and this is for people in comas, then mine is way overdue to be over. Can’t be in a coma since the 1300s.” 

Cam opens an eye. “1300?” 

Hal shrugs. “That’s the last set of years I can sort of remember, so I figure I was alive for some of them. But I don’t know anything about the ones that followed, so I must have died before then.” 

“And you?” 

Sachin shrugs as well. “1986ish? Give or take another year or two. I know I didn’t see the 90s.” 

“Cocaine?” Hal asks.

“That isn’t all people did in the eighties,” Sachin says with a roll of his eyes. “But yeah. Don’t take that as a stereotype of everyone who died then, though. I just had bad luck, and a bad batch, and now...” 

“I didn’t die by hanging,” Cam says, sitting up and pointing to the gallows. “So what is that about?” 

“Everyone,” Hal says. “Has to figure out they’re dead. Took us ages to figure this out, by the way, lots of research.” 

“He means we’ve seen a lot of people make it here,” Sachin interjects. 

“Same difference,” Hal waves away his words. “You hang there and swing until you figure it out, then you drop, get one of these lovely suits, and move on to...” 

“You don’t know?” 

“We don’t,” Sachin replies. “We’ve always stayed here. Like a welcoming committee.” 

“That...is incredibly fucked up,” Cam mutters, staring down the gallows. 

“So is a lot of this,” Hal says. “So was a lot of stuff in life. Why should this be all that different. And who knows, maybe you’ll find something better out there, the further you walk. Personally, I’ve accepted that it probably isn’t any better, so I don’t see why I should go wandering the empty plains for eons for no good reason.” 

“What about you?” 

Sachin avoids his eyes. “Just decided to stay put with Hal. We’ve gotten to know each other fairly well. We get along decently. It feels...easier. With company.” 

“Okay,” Cam says. “But you’ve got to understand something.” 

“Oh, Jesus,” Hal sighs. 

“Yes! Exactly. Can I talk to him?” 

“You still don’t fully get it, do you?” Sachin asks delicately. “As far as we know...” 

“No religion was particularly right, or wrong. Maybe they exist further out there, but we’ve never seen Jesus, nor any other religious figure come round,” Hal finishes the sentence as a bit of apple juice drips down his chin from his latest slice. “So no, there isn’t anyone to complain to. At least, not right here.” 

Cam stamps a foot. “Am I just supposed to go now?” 

“That’s what everyone else does,” Sachin replies, taking the apple and knife from Hal. “Your suit just appeared, so here. Put it on before you go.” 

“Why a suit?” 

They shrug in unison. 

“Do you two know anything about this place? Or is it all just apple eating and being useless?” Cam scoffs as he doffs the T-shirt and cargo shorts, blood-covered, that he’d arrived in. 

“Not being useless,” Sachin murmurs. “We help people. Try to, at least.” 

“This is hardly any way to spend the afterlife,” Cam smirks. 

“I think you had just best go,” Hal says, and stands again in front of Cam. 

“Is that a threat? I’m dead, what good is there in threatening me?” 

“We may not know a lot about this place,” Hal replies. “But we know this spot. We know what it is to be here for years upon years upon years upon years. It humbles you. Now, you got a nice suit, and all of eternity to learn how to be less of a-what’s the term, Sachin?” 

“The one we learned from the young lady prior to Cam?” 

Hal nods.

“Fuck boy?” 

“That,” Hal says. “And an asshole, and a general jerk, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn something about this place.” 

Sachin nods. “He’s right. We’ve seen some wander back here, on occasion. Just as rude as they day they got in.” 

“Their eyes are gone, for they’ve seen all and nothing at the same time,” Hal whispers, pulling Cam close by his collar. “They still scream, and claim injustice and no fault of their own. And eventually, they filter into just screams among the dust devils.” 

“We still hear them, at times,” Sachin says. “You get used to it. But it doesn’t sound good. I don’t think I’d want that to happen to me.” 

“Stop it,” Cam shudders, and pulls himself away from Hal. “You two...you’re just trying to scare me. I’m finding Heaven. I will, and then you’ll both be sorry.” 

“The smallest man can fall down the biggest mountain, who has no purpose other than to exist, and claim it is the fault of the mountain rather than his own stumbling and careless steps,” Sachin shrugs. “We tried, Hal. Come sit, I think the next apple might be Granny Smith this time.” 

Hal returns to his spot by Sachin, and accepts the comforting arm around his shoulders. 

“I-” 

“Go.” Sachin’s eyes are cold and angry, and he doesn’t blink until Cam is off in the distance, barely visible, the dust forming a wall as his running kicks it up. 

“I hope that tour guide doesn’t get in trouble because of that ass,” Hal sighs. “He didn’t do anything wrong, but just watch; he’ll be the one that suffers for that willing mistake, even after he told him not to tie his rope like that...” 

“Well,” Sachi replies. “Hopefully he’ll be fine. But whenever he gets here, we’ll have to tell him he did a good job trying to keep Cam safe. We can do that, at least.” 

“We can,” Hal says, but Sachin sees the tears before they’re wiped away. “Granny Smith?” 

Sachin holds up the latest apple. “Indeed. First slice is yours.” 

The wind whips and swirls the dust around them into a frenzy, and without a word they take off their jackets and pull them over their heads, leaning together to form a sort of tent, one hand left outside to hold its respective jacket in place, skin bloodied by the gravel and debris. 

But they smile, and share their apple. 

The next one will be better. 

And there will always be another one, on the gallows, swinging. 

[sefilomeo]

Appreciating the Lowly Persimmon

S.E. Filomeo--Tidbits from an educator, writer, gardener, and chefette—promoting less waste, more taste.

     Just last month, my friend Kimberly and I were walking through my orchard when she spied an orange fruit hanging from one of the trees. Plucking it off and pointing it toward her mouth, she was about to take a bite when I caught her.      “No!” I snapped. “You don’t want to eat that!”      “But why? It looks ripe. What is it?” she replied undaunted.      That’s what I love about her (well, one of the many things). Her curiosity and appreciation for food of all types is what brought us together and has helped us cultivate such a strong friendship.      When I saw that fruit headed toward her open mouth, I was horrified because I know too well the damage an unripe Hachiya persimmon can do to the tongue. It’s almost as bad as biting into an olive straight off the tree that has not been cured. Left unwarned, Kimberly’s mouth would have puckered with the texture of a thousand hair balls and would be nearly impossible to purge, regardless of how much water she swallowed, or spat. Only time would cleanse her palette from the astringent tannins of the unripe fruit.      And this is the bane of the lowly persimmon. I believe it is due to this affliction—the persimmon’s only real flaw—that it is so under-appreciated. But to be fair, there are two general types of cultivated persimmons, the Hachiya and the Fuyu, each with its own distinctive attributes and uses. They are both delicious when given the consideration they each deserve. To put it simply, one is for baking and the other is for eating straight off the tree. Obviously, the one headed for my friend’s mouth was not the later.      I grew up with the baking one, the Hachiya. Ready to make her famous persimmon cookies, my mom would declare them ripe enough, and would send me out to the orchard to gather only the ones that were so ripe they looked as though they would lose contact with the branch at any moment. And naturally, many of those had already been deemed ripe by the birds. These elongated, oval-shaped fruits are mouth-puckeringly tart unless absolutely, supremely ripe. They should be unbelievably soft and are often nearly liquified into a silky, smooth jelly-like pulp inside the peel. When pureed, they add substantial moisture and a mild, pumpkin-like flavor to cakes, cookies, breads, and puddings. With the addition of fall spices, these tasty baked treats can liven up an otherwise drab cooking season and rival the fragrance and flavor of any pumpkin-based fare.      Only fairly recently did I come upon the other variety, the Fuyu. A Japanese friend of mine shared some with me, saying that one must eat it like an apple. Having grown up with the terribly astringent Hachiya, I was justifiably skeptical. To allay my fears, she proceeded to slice it and upon sampling it, I was in love. By contrast to the Hachiya, the Fuyu persimmon is considered to be non-astringent, although not completely free of tannins as the term suggests, but it is far less astringent than the Hachiya before it is fully ripened. Its tannins also disappear sooner in the maturation process, so you can eat Fuyus while still on the firm side, although they are also wonderful when very soft. The Fuyu is smaller than the Hachiya and somewhat squat and flat. They add interest and flavor to any salad and are quite delicious fresh off the grill. These bright orange gems have become my favorite apple replacement on my late-season charcuterie board.      Persimmons are one of the oldest fruits cultivated with roots back in ancient Asia. Records show that they have been grown in China for over 2,000 years and are also native to Japan, Korea, Burma, and Nepal. Japanese and Chinese cultivars were first introduced to the U.S. around 1870. According to UC Davis, most domestic commercial production of persimmons is centered right here in California.      Rich in dietary fiber, persimmons also contain many nutrients such as manganese, iron, beta-carotene, vitamins A and C, as well as several other health-promoting phytonutrients and antioxidants. They contain the phytochemical, betulinic acid, which has been shown to have anti-viral, anti-malarial, and anti-inflammatory properties, as well as great potential as an anti-cancer/tumor agent. With so many health benefits, it is no wonder that persimmons have long been considered by the Greeks as “the divine fruit.” The fruit is actually a berry from the edible fruit trees in the genus, Diospyros, which means “fruit of the gods.”      According to folklore, persimmon seeds can be used to predict the severity of the coming winter. The seeds from a locally grown persimmon are soaked in hot water to soften before being gently pried apart so that the cotyledon inside is visible. If the tiny plant-to-be has a fork shape, the winter will be mild. A spoon shaped cotyledon indicates that there will be a lot of snow, but beware of the cotyledon in the shape of a knife, as the winter will be bitingly cold, or “cut like a knife.” Although many mid-westerners and easterners, including farmers, believe this old wive’s tale, I’m not sure how accurate it would be here in the valley, since we don’t generally get a lot of snow.      Whether the old lore is to be believed or not, it does say a lot about how the persimmon is revered in other parts of the country. Once you get to know persimmons and how to use them, you’re sure to find delicious ways to indulge. Whether it’s scooping out the luscious flesh of a Hachiya to be baked into a steamy, spiced pudding, or slicing a firm Fuyu into a fall-fruit salad with fresh winter mesclun, they are sure to be one of your go-to late-season fruits. As for myself, I grow both types on the farm and am excited to share them both—in their best form—with my friend Kimberly.

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[elancebhuwan-blog]

Responsible Trekking in Nepal

If you're heading on vacation and you plan to trek the Annapurna’s or visit Everest Base Camp, you want to understand about responsible and safe trekking in Nepal. Here is a handy guide about responsible. Not to add to this problem your purification tablets and can choose your water bottle along with you.  Should you need to do some laundry then do not soap up and wash your clothes as it is likely to be a drinking source for villagers and animals too.  Use a bucket or bowl and dispose of the dirty water from the water resource. So during the trek these are the things to do in Nepal so that it will be your best memorial tour. In this way there are many things to do in Nepal that have to be done when you visit in Nepal.

 A government plot is set up that supplies pressurized water at a few of the stops on the popular Annapurna circuit trek to trekkers.  Take advantage of this scheme throughout your Nepal holiday. Without needing to boil it It is possible to even deal with water with iodine to purify it. Litter and waste - Require some matches with you to burn any toilet paper or cells you might use instead of clutter the road while you're trekking in Nepal.  Or, better yet, learn how to wash using a little water as local people do instead of wipe!  Some people job Nepal treks carry a light-weight trowel to bury their ‘doings' and away from any water resources.  Carry your clutter with you until you have appropriate to dispose of it during your Nepal trek.  Do keep in mind that to the Nepalese the hearth is the heart of the home and hence the fireplace is sacred.  For you to throw your crap on the household 16, Thus it is very bad manners. Or course, they can happen from time to time in regions.  It's good to be aware of the information on the area you're heading to during your Nepal trip.  It is possible to check on the FCO (Foreign and Commonwealth Office) site for country certain warnings and basic advice.  The golden rule is never to trek as you're placing yourself in a vulnerable situation. If you have a trusted guide and porter accompanying then you've got someone to watch your package should you need to nip into the bushes, you have someone to go for assistance if you are injured or sick and a distance away in another trek stop.  Somebody who understands the terrain will also keep you lost. Porters and guides - When you hire a guide or porter locally and independently, you have effectively become their employer for the length of your own Nepal trek.  Porters can carry loads that are extraordinary, but it is irresponsible to overload them with unnecessary bags when you're able to travel light and carry a couple of your essentials in your day pack.  If guide or your porter gets unwell or gets hurt you are accountable, as their employer, and will need to assist them and be certain that they're taken to security.  You do hear terrible stories of vacationers in Nepal leaving behind porters die alone and even to fend for themselves.  Equally, if your manual turns out to be a heavy drinker and a liability (as had been my sister's experience) then you will sack him and need to leave him behind (at a safe point) if he's too drunk to continue!  So, perhaps guesthouse to find guide or a porter and not just some guy off the street or it's safer to go through an agency. I set off from Pokhara using a group of buddies, carrying our packs to do a day’s trekking in Nepal, at the Annapurna area, on a budget.  As we didn't appreciate how difficult it's to bear packs for hours on 24, our very first days trekking was very stressful and we could not find the beginning of the trek for a while.  I lost a toe nail and was wearing the sort of boots!  We had to reduce our 7 day trek effort that is Nepal and have a bus back.  In retrospect it might have been nice to have guidance and do it properly! It is obviously best and considerably safer to offer employment to the guides and porters who depend on tourism to earn a living and to be ready with planning, gear and the aid.Insurance - Make sure your insurance policy covers you for personal accident, medical and evacuation insurance for your Nepal trekking holiday. It ought to pay you for the risk that you may require a helicopter rescue back to Kathmandu or Pokhara in which you are able to get attention.  You might also take out insurance specifically prior to setting out for hiking when. Altitude - If your Nepal trek involves steep ascents and descents and you're heading into the greater altitudes then you want to be sure you take time to acclimatize during your Nepal trekking vacation.  You should attempt to sleep in a lower altitude than the highest point you attained daily and this is factored in to the trek path on the lengthier altitude Nepal treks like the Everest Base Camp trek. Medical apparel and useful tips - Be certain you have well-worn comfortable walking boots with you personally and so are in good health with a good degree of fitness before you set off on your Nepal trekking holiday.  Just take a good sunscreen as the sun is more powerful at altitude and it's possible to be exposed to strong sunlight for hours at a time, therefore fantastic sunglasses (mountaineering glasses if you are heading for the snow-line) and a hat are advisable too.  Plasters, support bandages and anti-histamine and antiseptic cream are also a good idea throughout your Nepal trip.  Some folks choose trekking-poles (lightweight and collapsible) for extra stability and they generally come in handy.  A Swiss army knife includes many helpful functions with scissor choices and the knife, tweezers. Fundamental pain-killers are a fantastic thing to take for the ones that are anti-inflammatory and pains and headaches with you to help with medication, water-purification tablets/or iodine and sore joints to prevent a few anti-biotics for crises and Diarrhea for perhaps and emergencies too.  I took a umbrella to use as a parasol as my hat did not have a wide brim to keep the sun off me.  Rehydration sachets are extremely useful when you're exerting yourself in a climate that is hot and if you get ill, they can aid recovery.  In case you have a condition that may hinder your Nepal trekking abilities be certain your insurance covers you.

[knives-coltelleriacollini]

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[gomadnow-blog]

Essential Items to Carry When Climbing Mt. Everest

Are you all set to climb the most valued hike on Mt. Everest ? If yes, then you must go through the below list in order to learn what must be carried when to ease out your climbing days on Mt. Everest

Climbing Equipment

Ice ax: General mountaineering ax, mountaineering"walking" span, 60 - 80 cm spans, based on your height. Shaft should not have a rubber grip. You'll require a leash to attach axe for you harness not a"wrist loop". Bring a commercial leash created for glacier travel or 6 ft of 9/16 inch webbing and we'll help you build one (Grivel or Black Diamond).

Crampons: 12 stages step-in, a few climbers bring two, however, that is probably not necessary and we can have replacements delivered from Namche (Grivel or Black Diamond).

Harness: Alpine design, you should not have to step through leg loops to place it on and off, lightweight, fully adjustable (Black Diamond).

Perlon cable: 20 feet of 6mm person cords, also known as accessory cord in climbing stores.

Ascenders: You will need two (Petzl or Black Diamond).

Note: The company names suggested are just for reference, you may choose any other, whatever works for you the best.

Camping Gear

Backpack: Top opening mountaineer's rucksack style is greatest. Stay away from big zipper openings and surplus external pockets. Larger packs are better than smaller since they're easier to pack with cold hands and they disperse loads more efficiently.

Two Sleeping bags: -40C/-30F Down 800 fill (Western Mountaineering, Mountain Hard-wear). Your second bag can be -20C/-5F. 1 bag remains on the mountain and the other at Base Camp. Your bigger bag may be the one which remains at Base Camp; higher on the mountain you may share tents and you will be concerned with bulk and weight.

Foam pad: The sleeping pads stay on the mountain. At Base Camp that you will have a Nepalese mattress, which means you don't need a second sleeping mat set (Ridgecrest).

Pee bottle: 2 1-quart (1 liter), leak-proof wide-mouth, one for Base Camp and the other for top camp (Nalgene).

Pee Funnel for Girls: (Freshette).

Swiss military knife/multitool: Remember to not depart in carry-on bags for almost any domestic or international flight.

Large mug, plastic bowl, fork, and spoon: For Camp 1 and Camp 3. Bowl and mug ought to be large.

Medical & Personal

Toiletry kit: Toothbrush, toothpaste, skin lotion, alcohol-based hand sanitizer, soap, comb/brush, shave kit, (bring travel size bottles to keep your kit small).

First-aid kit: Ibuprofen/Aspirin, various band-aids, moleskin, Neosporin-type suave, small gauze pad, the roll of adhesive tape, tweezers, safety pins. Include any prescription travel meds that may be prescribed by your physician (antibiotics, Diamox, sleep aids).

Water purification pills: These as Potable Aqua brand iodine pills. You will be given lots of purified water during your trek, but one bottle of backup purification tablets is always a fantastic idea for your travels. They're particularly beneficial in hotels on the best way to Nepal. You should not drink untreated tap water anywhere in Asia and bottled water at some rare cases may not be accessible.

Earplugs: Quite helpful in noisy lodges and tents. Available in most hardware stores and drug stores.

Bookmark this link to refer it with ease in future.  

We hope this post helps you climb Mt. Everest. If does! Do inform us :)

Resource- http://bit.ly/2Y1Fll7