Pratik Mainali

Pratik is a high school graduate from Trinity International College, Dilli Bazaar, Kathmandu.

The tenderness of heart

Published On: September 11, 2019 03:15 PM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

Gently, like a young romantic, lifting a broken flower, he picked up the puppy, and placed him close to his heart. The eyes of the puppy that were round and wet and honest touched his tender heart.

Introducing Ghanashyam Bista(Humorous fiction)-

Published On: August 25, 2019 09:00 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The girl lifted her chin and gave me a frosty look. I tackled it with a look of calm dignity. I was simply dripping with the warm liquid of divine affection. I could see a quiet pleasure spreading across her face.

Morning walks

Published On: July 4, 2019 11:05 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

I am not my pure princely self until I’ve pottered about in the wash of new light. I feel a vague sense of emptiness and bereavement throughout the day, without a rigorous morning exertion of my muscles.

I miss you

Published On: June 27, 2019 11:45 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

I write this to you filled with fond affection and gentle care. I am bent at my desk as I write, scribbling on my yellowish, moth-eaten paper. Ink welled up my nib and spilt over the page. My heart is frozen and my limbs feel heavy. I’m sprawled on my chair, brooding.

Is the school readying us to be bitter and resentful in the future?

Published On: June 18, 2019 10:05 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

School life is all about school spirit. The gentle nobility of the teachers, the lofty ideals of the students, the urge to break free and rebel,

New Beginnings

Published On: May 29, 2019 11:05 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

I left my thoughts unchecked and it reached deep into the dark, desolate den of despair. Soon enough my heart was wrung with grief. In the delusional freakishness of the youth I found myself abruptly sobered into sadness.

The Lady

Published On: May 23, 2019 10:15 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The lady sat on the chair morosely, her eyes were sunken, her face was drawn and haggard, her countenance was tense, and her brows were wrinkled with rage.


Published On: May 19, 2019 10:00 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

will confide in you, my dear readers, with hopes that you are lending a sympathetic ear. The urge to pour out my sorrow and bitterness to the eager public is getting unbearably strong by the moment.

The lady of Perpetual Victimhood

Published On: May 12, 2019 12:05 PM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The lady broke into a grim penetrating laugh that made the tube lights crackle and windows rattle. Her eyes narrowed and ears slid backwards, like an evil ill-bred cat. Her tongue shot out and covered her chin.

Terror in the Night

Published On: May 9, 2019 12:05 PM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

I was slouching in my chair, sleepily tapping my feet on the floor and drumming my fingers on the table, when a hollow knocking sound startled me. I looked over my shoulder and fancied I saw a shadow flit past the window.


Published On: April 12, 2019 11:00 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

I have been deeply distressed, moody, and restless for the past few months. My life, which once was the hive of activity, with hum of vibrant people stirring up the spirits of soft youth, is now soundless and still, under the brooding clouds of sullen gloom.


Published On: March 31, 2019 12:30 PM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

Dusk was falling as Manjima ambled briskly out of the F&F bank into the warm cobbled pavement. She threaded through the bulk of people with an air of calm superiority. Her lips were tight, her jaw was firmly set, cheekbones high and pink, and her eyes had that look of steely determination that gave the bravest of men that met with it a sinking feeling.


Published On: January 22, 2019 10:01 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The first sound in the morning was the cooing of the cuckoos on the coconut trees. The second was the mooing of the mad buffalo on the mossy field. I woke up with a sudden start, and sat bolt upright in my bed. It was as if I hadn’t slept at all. To my astonishment, the door was flung open and darkness entered and spilled into the floor.


Published On: January 4, 2019 05:45 PM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

the bony fingers, the clicking keys swinging door, stale air, stiff clothes the rattling teacups, the sailing trays the still morning of the kitchen the lights blinking blearily the spoon falling with a ringing clatter drapes vibrate with the trembling windows the tomatoes roll down and splatter

The wind

Published On: December 29, 2018 10:15 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The pink sun stares at sweaty faces The sultry air stirs the bony branches

The House

Published On: November 1, 2018 09:23 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

As conscious came gleaming back to me, I found myself standing unsteadily on the dimly lit park, in the dead of the night, without any vague memory of having gotten there.

Street food experience

Published On: July 9, 2018 09:16 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

My stomach rumbled as the steam of the momos made way from the food cart into my nose. My eyes, however, were fixed at the hot samosas, still exuding wisps of smoke. Right beside the samosas were crusty smashed potatoes, sloshed with yogurt, and stirred with chilly. The shopkeeper lifted the lid of the steamer and steam of thick cloud belched.

One with nature

Published On: May 23, 2018 11:02 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The guavas were drenched and dewdrops seemed to be trembling from them. The tree was moist and the leaves were dark green. One felt threatened watching it from below. As if the tree was trying to reach out and grab the house with its finger-like branches and wicked-faced leaves.

The jump, the fall

Published On: May 17, 2018 09:56 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The golden rays of the sun showered into the vast muscles of mountains, steadily replacing the black shadows with a warm blanket of gold. I looked from the smoky glass on the plane as the Earth suddenly sprang to life. “It’s time,” said the pilot with a commanding voice. And I lifted up from my seat. My back was stone. “You ready, bro?” said the guide, I shook my head nervously. “You don’t look so!” I shook my head with determination sparkling from my eyes.

Jhapa memories

Published On: May 13, 2018 11:57 AM NPT By: Pratik Mainali

The village was desolate, with no signs of life. A small stream of water was running on my left, making a gurgling sound. I craned my neck and scanned around. Trees, fields, heaps of rubbles, deserted houses, remains of houses. After observing for a minute, my eyes rested on a mound of red mud which I believed is a traditional Satar house. I followed the path in my quest to see signs of civilization.