Tij Song

Verse 1

Put on sari, bright red and gold,

In New York heat, I’m already sold—

High heels stuck on the subway floor,

Teej ko dance… at the grocery store!

Chorus

🎶 “Hurry, hurry, let’s dance,

Even in the parking lot by chance,

From Costco to Dunkin’ Donuts line,

We’re keeping Teej spirit fine! 🎶

Verse 2

Fasting all day, no water, no tea,

Boss says, “Lunch break?” — “No, not for me!”

Zoom meeting on, but I still sway,

Someone’s auntie sings “Resham Firiri” all day.

Chorus

🎶 “Teej in the USA,

We celebrate in our own way,

From Walmart to Times Square lights,

We dance all through the night!” 🎶

Bridge

Uber driver asks, “What’s with the dress?”

We say, “It’s a festival—no stress!”

He nods and says, “Man, that’s neat,”

While aunties serve sel roti on the street.

Outro

So whether in Nepal or LA town,

We keep the Teej beats going round,

America may not know our song,

But our Teej hearts stay strong!

Tij sing

Red sari on, Starbucks cup,

Boss asks lunch? I’m fasting up!

From Walmart aisle to Uber seat,

We dance Teej beats on every street!

Rich and poor friends Talking

Poor: Bro, I’m broke. My wallet is so empty it echoes.

Rich: Echoes? Mine has Wi-Fi.

Poor: …Wi-Fi?

Rich: Yeah, so it can connect to my other wallets.

Poor: I hate you.

Rich: Nah, you love me. That’s why you hang out with me.

Poor: No, I hang out with you because you buy the fries.

Rich: And you eat 90% of them.

Poor: Sharing is caring.

Rich: You “share” my fries the way pirates “share” treasure.

Poor: At least I don’t have your rich-people problems.

Rich: Like what?

Poor: Like having to choose which sports car to drive. My “choice” is bus or walking.

Rich: That’s exercise! Free gym!

Poor: And free rain shower when it rains.

Rich: Fine, I’ll drive you next time.

Poor: In which car?

Rich: The gold one.

Poor: You have a gold car?!

Rich: No, it’s just yellow. But it feels gold when I drive it.

Poor: …You’re lucky I like free rides.

Rich: And fries.

Poor: And your air-conditioned life.

Rich: And my Wi-Fi wallet.

Poor: I swear one day I’m stealing that thing.

This is Amazing Found

One great saying 

1. “The rich are just poor people with better lawyers.”

A Braman carrying pig on His Shoulders

This old and famous story 

Once in a small village, a Brahmin bought a fine goat for a feast. He slung it over his shoulder and started walking home, humming a mantra.

On the way, three mischievous brothers spotted him. They decided to play a trick.

The first brother approached and said, “Oh holy sir, why are you carrying a pig on your shoulders?”

The Brahmin frowned. “Pig? This is a goat. Are you blind?”

He walked on.

A little farther, the second brother bowed respectfully and said, “Respected one, I am surprised to see a learned man carrying a pig like this.”

The Brahmin’s step slowed. “Pig again? Hmm… perhaps this man is also blind.”

When he had nearly reached the village, the third brother stopped him and whispered, “Oh noble Brahmin, why in the world are you carrying a pig on your shoulders? It is unclean!”

Now the Brahmin’s confidence began to crumble. Could it be…? Have my eyes deceived me?

Terrified that he might be carrying an unholy pig instead of a goat, he dropped the animal to the ground and ran off chanting purification verses.

The three brothers laughed, picked up their brand-new goat, and disappeared into the forest.

Nepali people celebrating Janai Purnima in Harrisburg Pennsylvania

Janai Purnima, also known as Raksha

Bandhan in some regions, is a significant Hindu festival celebrated primarily in Nepal and parts of India on the full moon day of the Hindu month of Shrawan, which falls between July and August. The festival holds profound cultural, religious, and social importance. For males of certain castes, such as Brahmins and Chhetris, Janai Purnima is a time for the renewal of vows through the replacement of the sacred Janai thread, symbolizing a commitment to a virtuous and disciplined life. Devotees also engage in sacred baths in holy rivers or ponds, performing rituals to purify both their physical and spiritual bodies. The thread ceremony, known as Rakshya Bandhan, involves priests tying a protective thread around the wrists of men, women, and children, reciting mantras to ward off negative energies and misfortune.

The festival is deeply rooted in Hindu mythology, with stories such as the legend of Vamana and Bali, where Lord Vishnu, in his Vamana avatar, sent King Bali to the underworld but promised to protect him, symbolizing divine guardianship. Similarly, in the Mahabharata, Lord Krishna tied a protective thread to Yudhishthira before the great war, ensuring his safety. These narratives highlight the themes of protection, duty, and spiritual discipline. Culturally, Janai Purnima is a time for strengthening family bonds, as sisters tie a thread on their brothers’ wrists to express love and pray for their well-being. The festival is also marked by community gatherings and the preparation of special foods like Kwati, a soup made from nine kinds of sprouted beans, which is enjoyed to celebrate the seasonal change and promote health and nourishment.

In conclusion, Janai Purnima is a festival that weaves together religious, mythological, and cultural traditions, emphasizing the values of protection, purity, and familial love. Through its rituals and stories, it reinforces the importance of spiritual discipline and the bonds that unite people, making it a cherished occasion in the Hindu calendar.

This is how I celebrate my Janai Purnima

Threads Across Oceans

In the quiet hum of an August morning,

the sun rises over two worlds at once—

Himalayan peaks,

and city skylines that gleam like steel prayer wheels.

A cotton thread, sacred and white,

rests in my palm like a soft river of memory.

Father’s voice recalls the old village temple,

where priests chant in the incense-thick air,

tying janai to shoulders like promises—

to truth, to compassion,

to the weight of vows carried through lifetimes.

Here, halfway across the world,

I wear mine too.

Not by a rushing Nepali stream,

but by a kitchen sink,

the turmeric bowl glowing gold like Kathmandu dawn.

Mother murmurs mantras she learned from her own mother,

while the thread circles my arm—

a bridge spun from devotion and diaspora.

Somewhere in that thin strand,

my heritage hums.

It knots the mountains to the prairies,

rice fields to asphalt streets,

the Ganga’s myth to the Hudson’s flow.

I walk into the day,

the janai warm against my skin,

a quiet tether reminding me—

I am carried by the prayers of many,

and I carry them forward,

thread by shining thread.