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As per the vision of King Prithivi Narayan Shah, Kshetriyas are born warriors, who are innately brave and decisive. While reading Into The Fire by Capt. Rameshwar Thapa, one senses that same warrior spirit. During the peak of Nepal’s Maoist insurgency, Thapa conducted numerous helicopter rescue missions in the name of humanity. These were not official duties, but acts he undertook as a responsible citizen. He rescues even Maoist combatants, showing that compassion can transcend political divides.

The book invites readers to ponder whether his flying was simply a job, or a deeper calling. His symbolic trials, like leaving Nepal to study in Russia, resemble the path of a hermit in search of knowledge and purpose.

The title, Into the Fire, itself is self-explanatory. It captures the experience of flying over warzones, amidst explosions and bombardments. The task was daring and dangerous. Thapa traversed Nepal from east to west, offering ‘Malham’ (relief and healing) to the wounded. Some of his missions seem unbelievable. For instance, landing in Sandhikharka (Arghakhanchi) under live fire—despite two helicopters being shot—shows the extreme risks he and his team took, continuing their mission even after being hit.

Plot and structure

The book is structured in three main parts, narrating real-time events tied to Nepal’s middle class. For engaged readers, the story is both exciting and thought-provoking. Thapa draws attention in an almost Panglossian tone—an optimist through hardship.

Early life and solo dream: The story begins with a child’s journey to manhood, shaped by dreams and struggle. Thapa’s first earning, Rs. 3.5, was used to buy a pen, a symbolic gesture of his quest for education. This parallels with Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam, India’s former President, who used his first income to buy a pen to support his learning. It reflects how small acts can carry deeper meanings.

Enthusiastic U-turn: Thapa’s determination led him to take bold decisions. Dissatisfied with his clerical job in court, he reconsidered his path after a conversation with Sheshraj Parajuli and a transfer letter to Rasuwa district. When he appealed to Chief Justice Keshav Prasad Upadhyaya to halt the transfer, he received a counter-advice: “Why stick to a white-collar job when you have so much potential?” That moment reignited his childhood dream to become a rotary-wing pilot.

Insurgency and personal risk: Separated from his family, Thapa lived by the slogan of “do or die.” Maoist attacks in Rolpa, Rukum, Sindhuli, and Gorkha signaled an internal war. Though he could have refused to fly, Thapa’s inner voice urged him to serve a nation in turmoil. He was ready to fly into danger.

From captain to entrepreneur: The Bhagavad Gita’s principle of “perform without expectation” seems to guide Thapa’s transition into entrepreneurship. After years of risk-filled service, he expanded into media, real estate, hydropower, and tourism. His entrepreneurial journey shows he is a visionary, someone looking far beyond boundaries.

Strengths of the Book

Personal ideals: The book offers an intimate account of Nepal’s middle-class life, marked by poverty and resilience. It reflects conditions still prevalent in many least developed countries. Thapa emerges as a man of strong personal ideals and conviction.

Contribution during insurgency: Nepal was ill-prepared for warfare, and pessimism spread quickly. Maoist guerrillas executed people without hesitation. While travel on rugged terrain was difficult, air travel was the only viable option. Despite the risks, Thapa stepped in, driven more by idealism than duty. His actions embody a sense of purpose beyond survival.

Inspiration: The transition from childhood to adulthood in the book is rich with insight, courage, and hope. The story is motivational, especially for young readers. Thapa’s humility in learning, combined with his deep sense of responsibility, stands out.

Limitations

Hero-centric narrative:  Some readers may find the book overly centered on the author’s heroism. Flying into combat zones and rescuing the wounded is indeed courageous, but the tone occasionally leans toward glorification. While many autobiographies carry personal bias, this one does little to address or balance those tendencies.

Selective memory: The book focuses heavily on challenges and heroic moments, leaving out the routine or less dramatic aspects. Readers may seek a fuller psychological portrait, but instead get a highly curated narrative. Still, this selective remembrance satisfies many readers’ thirst for dramatic stories.

Matters of privacy: When covering his entrepreneurial ventures, the author avoids discussing matters like employment generation or contribution to the national economy. While it’s understandable for a memoir to stay task-focused, more detail would have enriched the narrative.

More a war diary than a memoir: Some may view Into The Fire as a war diary rather than a complete autobiography. Though it contains emotional and soft elements, the narrative remains largely event-driven and action-focused.

Conclusion

Into The Fire explores realities that go far beyond the imagination of most people. The risks, bravery, and moral clarity depicted are truly extraordinary. To enhance its credibility, future editions might include footnotes or endnotes for context. Still, the core themes of hope, justice, and patience resonate powerfully.

The bilingual format bridges local and international audiences. Technical and non-technical errors, whether in translation or print, are minimal and easily rectifiable.

This book can serve as a beacon of hope for students, educators, public servants, freelancers, researchers, aviators, and anyone who aspires to rise above limitations and serve with courage.

Poetry can feel a little intimidating but there are some hacks if you want to get into it: Read poems out loud. Read them repeatedly. Let the words take space in your head. Over time, you will definitely come to enjoy reading poems and will find that they make sense as well, sometimes even resonating more than well-written prose by your favorite author.

I was petrified of poems and was relieved that I wouldn’t have to read them once they weren’t prescribed syllabus. But once I was out of college, I started picking up random poetry books of my own volition. One of the earliest works I read were some Nepali poems and those by Maya Angelou. I have to admit that not everything made sense but I enjoyed how I felt reading the words till they eventually fell into place. Slowly, I started picking up more poetry books as I could quickly read one or two even during busy days. I would carry a book of poetry in my bag and dip into it whenever I had some time. 

Over the years, I have amassed quite a few volumes of poetry. Gulzar, Rumi, Keats—I have tried to read widely and find what suits my taste. Not everything makes sense immediately but I’m not as intimidated by poems as I once was. I recently picked up ‘The Poetry Pharmacy’ by Willian Sieghart and the book goes everywhere with me. It’s on my bedside table at night. I carry it in my bag. I read a random page whenever I can and somehow whatever I read resonates deeply.The Poetry Pharmacy proclaims to be tried-and-true prescriptions for the heart, mind, and soul. And it indeed is. From mental and emotional wellbeing to love and loss, there are poems in this slim volume for all kinds of ailments. 

The idea of the poetry pharmacy came into being many years ago when Sieghart was asked to prescribe poems from one of his books to the audience during a literary festival in England. What was supposed to be an hour long affair turned into a several hours long event. People queued up to be prescribed a poem that would fix whatever was weighing down their hearts. Sieghart realized that “suffering is the access point to poetry for a lot of people: that’s when they open their ears, hearts, and minds.”

In the introduction to the book, he says sometimes the right words when people are in need can bring great comfort and that creates a love for poetry that can last a lifetime. He urges readers not to worry about their ability to read a poem and to try and read the same poem every night for five nights in a row when it doesn’t make sense. “Keep it by your bed and read it before you switch out the lights,” he says. That’s what I have been doing with The Poetry Pharmacy and the poems in the book have, in many ways, been a soothing balm just when I have needed it. 

Poems like ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling and ‘Still I Rise’ by Maya Angelou are two of my favorites that fill me with hope. There are many other poems ‘New Every Morning’ by Susan Coolige that has been prescribed for compulsive behavior, ‘The Mistake’ by James Fenton prescribed to get over regret and self-loathing, and ‘Come to the Edge’ by Christopher Logue that can fix lack of courage that feel like big, enveloping hugs that you didn’t know you needed. There’s a poem titled ‘Chemotherapy’ by Julia Darling that I must urge everyone to read. Cancer is unfortunately becoming something we are all dealing with on a personal level: perhaps we have gone through it ourselves or seen a loved one suffer. This poem reminds us that life can’t be made inconsequential by illness and that small pleasures can bring a lot of comfort in the darkest of times. 

The Poetry Pharmacy brings together some of the best poems by poets who understand the human conditions all too well. The book’s layout is such that it has Sieghart’s ‘prescriptions’ on one side and the poem on the other page. His explanations or ‘editorials’ are every bit as uplifting as the poems he prescribes. The book is a complication of 56 universal problems. Read it cover to cover or dip in and out whenever you want to, this brilliant book of poems is guaranteed to be a lifesaver.

The Poetry Pharmacy

William Sieghart

Published: 2017

Publisher: Particular Books, Penguin Random House UK

Pages: 151, Hardcover

Heart Lamp, a collection of short stories by Banu Mushtaq, caught my attention after winning the International Booker Prize in 2025. I acquired a copy—the English translation by Deepa Bhasti—soon after its release in Kathmandu.

As I delved into Mushtaq’s fictional world, I noticed that all the stories feature female protagonists. Though these women are often portrayed as helpless, submissive, and vulnerable, the author skillfully critiques patriarchy, leaving readers to question whether men truly embody only freedom, assertiveness, and power. The stories also serve as a representation of Southern Indian society at the time, exposing its structures, the struggles of Muslim women, and the hollowness of male pride. For instance, in ‘Stone Slabs for Shaista Mahal’, the husband’s performative love—comparing himself to Shah Jahan—is starkly contrasted by his swift remarriage after his wife’s death rituals conclude.

The narratives mock male chauvinism while celebrating feminine resilience. In one story, a mutawalli (custodian) obsesses over a community member’s burial rites and religious formalities, yet remains indifferent to his own son, who lies critically ill in the hospital. This effectively highlights how men often prioritize superficial duties over genuine responsibilities.

The collection also offers insights into Muslim customs, such as khatna (male circumcision), depicted as both a celebrated ritual and, disturbingly, a means for the poor to earn meager rewards through repeated procedures. Similarly, the titular story, ‘Heart Lamp’, portrays a mother’s quiet strength as she resists self-immolation for her children’s sake. Through these intimate family sagas, Mushtaq lays bare the cruelties of patriarchy—its injustices, traumas, and the suffocating burdens of shame and oppression forced upon women.

Heart Lamp immerses readers in the social dynamics of South Indian Muslim communities, revealing how gender roles shape lives both inside and outside the home. The book also holds academic value, offering rich material for sociological and anthropological studies of the region’s cultural practices.

Banana Yoshimoto is the pen name of the author Mahoko Yoshimoto whose father is a famous poet in Japan. I picked up her collection of short stories titled ‘Dead-End Memories’ earlier this year because I was fascinated by the name and also because if I come across a collection of short stories by an author I haven’t read I will definitely pick it up. I had enjoyed the collection of stories about women, who after some painful event in their lives, find comfort in small moments of everyday life. 

I wanted to read more of her works which is why I picked up ‘Kitchen’ during a recent trip to the bookstore. I have been having a reading slump of sorts again and I thought this slim book would be just perfect to get over it. Kitchen comprises two classic tales about mothers, kitchens, love, and tragedy. It was published in 1987 and won two of Ja[an’s most prestigious literary prizes. 

‘The place I like the best in the world is the kitchen’ reads the first line of the book and I was hooked. Throughout the book, you return to the kitchen again and again. It’s almost like the kitchen is the main character. Mirage Sakurai, the protagonist of the slim novel, loves the kitchen. It’s where she finds comfort. But the story isn’t about kitchens or cooking. It’s basically about Mikage’s life, her grief and her sorrows and how she deals with them. 

Mikage lives with her grandmother. Her parents died when she was a young girl. When her grandmother passes away, she finds herself suddenly alone and unable to figure out the ways of the world. Yuichi, someone her grandmother knew, invites her for dinner and then to stay with his family until she finds her footing. There she meets Eriko, Yuichi’s father-turned-mother. The rest of the novel is a story of the three of them and what happens when their lives intertwine. 

Kitchen is a lovely story of finding comfort in unlikely places and the strength you draw from other people’s stories and lives. The writing is smooth and you can probably read the book in one sitting but you also want to take things slow and savor the story. The book deals heavily with loss, loneliness, and mourning but it’s also a hopeful story. You feel sad but you are waiting for the light to appear and things to change. It’s exactly how life feels like and reading the book makes you marvel at the fragility and beauty of life. 

The second story in the book, ‘Moonlight Shadow’ is a shorter read than the titular one. But it’s engaging and surreal. It tells the story of Satsuki, who lost her boyfriend in an accident. Her boyfriend’s brother Hiiragi also lost his girlfriend in the same accident. It’s once again a story about loss and grief, much like Kitchen but it focuses more on getting closure from a relationship before being able to move on in life. Even though it’s shorter than Kitchen, the characters are more fleshed out and the story felt more real despite the magical realism element to it. 

I enjoyed Yoshimoto’s short story collection but I would definitely recommend those reading her for the first time to start with Kitchen first as it’s simple yet thought-provoking. 

Kitchen

Banana Yoshimoto

Translated from the Japanese by Meghan Backus

Published: 1994

Publisher: Faber & Faber Limited

Pages: 150, paperback