sudo ufw allow ssh

In case you lose your PEM key again and have all your security group settings and other settings correct but still can’t figure out how to access your server through SSH, it’s best to enable Session Manager on your EC2 instance. The benefits of SSM agent are as follows:

• Improved Security: With Session Manager, you can connect to your instances without the need for SSH keys or inbound rules in security groups.
• Centralized Access Control: With Session Manager, you can manage access to your instances centrally using AWS Identity and Access Management (IAM) policies. This enables you to grant granular permissions to users and groups, and also to audit who accessed which instances and when.
• Auditability: Session Manager logs all session activity, including the input and output of commands. This enables you to audit the activity of users and also to troubleshoot any issues that may arise.

So, without further ado, let’s get into the steps of enabling SSM on your instance:

1. Launch a new EC2 instance using either the Amazon Linux or Amazon Linux 2 AMI. ( or any Amazon Machine Images (AMI) of your choice).
2. Ensure that the instance has an IAM role attached with the AmazonSSMManagedInstanceCore policy.
3. If the instance you have created does not have a role attached, you can attach one by going to “Actions” -> “Instance Settings” -> “Attach IAM Role”. If that option is not available, you can install the AWS CLI on your local computer, run “aws configure”, and apply the following credentials:

• Access Key: <access key here>
• Secret Key: <secret key here>
• Local region is the region of your VPC.
• Output format is JSON.

1. To retrieve the Access Key and Secret Key from the AWS dashboard, follow these steps:

• Go to the AWS Management Console and log in.
• Navigate to the “Security Credentials” page.
• Under “Access keys,” create a new access key if you do not have one already.

1. Connect the IAM role with the EC2 instance using the following AWS CLI command:

aws ec2 associate-iam-instance-profile — instance-id <instance ID here> — iam-instance-profile Name=<name of role>

Connect to the instance via SSH. Run the following command to install the SSM agent:

sudo snap switch — channel=candidate amazon-ssm-agent 
sudo snap install amazon-ssm-agent — classic 
//to check if it is running:
sudo snap list amazon-ssm-agent 
sudo snap start amazon-ssm-agent 
sudo snap services amazon-ssm-agent

(Refer to the AWS website for a detailed explanation of the commands and for variation of server options.)

— Install SSM Agent on Ubuntu Server.

There you have it! With these initial settings for every new EC2 instance, you make your servers more secure in the future and save yourself the hassle. May you never lose your PEM key in the first place, and happy DevOps!

Living in a temporary space due to home construction, and willing to make good use of the time, I sit on the revolving chair and, turn on my desktop computer. Can feel the null in my head until some content in the screen shows up. It’s so quiet and so peaceful, is what I would have like to believe.

Suddenly I hear the sound of carpentry doing steel welding(ghueeeeeee), wood thumping(tuk tuk tuk tuk), metal thumping(tyarp tyarp tyarp), with the mixture of other trillion noises. I try to focus, but it’s like a blizzard in the way to the place I am trying to get to.

Even though it’s not physical, this noise gets to me and my sanity loses its step.
I can shout, I can swear words, and I can even close my ears for a while, but its a pity thing to realize that I can’t annihilate the area with a micro Uranium nuclear explosion, nor can I magically form a sound barrier , so silent that it tends to go to negative silence. I cannot focus!

So, a few weeks pass, and my frustration keeps piling up , and the noise is the same.

One day, I decide to pick up a medium size rock from the street to later throw it on the top of steel "jasta" that is on top of the carpentry,just to maybe lower my state of mental chaos, or to take revenge even?

But, since the day I picked up that rock, I had started to ask myself things. Is it really worth it?
Will all the noise stop if I throw this rock once?
Will this act of unproductive defiance lead to anything significant?
You see, I am a far sighted person by nature.

Also, I usually avoid the things that trouble me temporarily. But this time, its a real dilemma.

Should I throw the rock or not?
What if I even throw it? There’s no chance the noise will stop coming. And after some weeks , as uncanny as it might sound, I came to realization that not throwing the rock helps.

It’s the similar with life I think(here I go 🍁🍂).There are a lot of things that you can get rid of easily by simply avoiding. And there are also some things you want to get rid of, but can’t.

So what does one do in this type of scenario is, not to show any signs of defiance.
Accepting it as the default and making it a habit is the way to go.
Also, having enough weapons in your arsenal might help . Knowing that you have the power to cause chaos and still not causing any,(just) because you have nothing to gain from that.

Its like the magic candle. No matter how many times you blow , the fire reappears. So, why to even try? Something’s won’t change no matter how much you try , and you just have to let it go.

No wonder, many martial artists never really have to get into real life fights.
No wonder , majority of rich people don’t go around wasting lots of money.

No wonder, most of the cool guys are single.(😉😉)

No wonder, happier people post less on social media.(**huhahaha )

No wonder logic never works for the people who don’t “want” to accept it.

Certainly might not make the perfect sense and the perfect set of examples at the first glance, but for surely, the idea of having enough arsenal for a given chaotic situation is better than having none, for the peace of mind.

And that’s why, I can say as many times as I like, I never threw the rock, I will never throw the rock, and I am not going to throw the rock, even though I thought I was going to throw the rock. I am just gonna keep patience and save/multiply the energy so that I can finally “rock the throw” every time I throw, whatever I throw..

“If you smell what I am cooking” would be the perfect metaphor for that though(if you know what I mean.)

Peace!

“We are just paper people in the paper town” Margo says to Quentin , while dancing with him gracefully, looking down the city of Orlando. The movie is quite an art and yes, one can read this article even though one hasn’t watched it. As for me, just cannot relate better to the statement. For someone who lives like an observer of beings and things, the Messiahic curiousity rat of subjectivity and sometimes nihilistic; paper town and paper concept is such a nice arrival of interpretation.
So basically, paper town is a place put on the map even though the place doesn’t really exist. It is done so, by the mapmakers to prevent plagiarism or to maintain an apparent originality which no one else can steal. The character Margo in the story claims that she is just a paper girl in the ‘Paper town’.
Implying that real originality of self is something that’s hidden. What’s shown outside cannot be trusted oftentimes and doesn’t necessarily have to be real. The story is quite interesting. Maybe its about finding the “un-paperness” in the paper girl in her for the long run, or maybe its just a form of expression where she hasn’t found herself, or have been self-actuated with what she wants to represent to the world. The real her. Who knows? So, who is Margo? Even she doesn’t really seem to know. And for the time being until she does, she is a paper girl.

This is the classic story about the authenticity of the difference between rationality and the mechanism that forms it. It is the solid question mark on how rationale it might even be to resort to any kind of level of “belief” in something that you come across In your life. The squid of curiosity inviting thy self into its deep-deep ocean to swim along with. As in, one may be a follower of Shiva but when one asks how would you consider yourself that, the answers may be different. Maybe someone is hardcore Hindu person, maybe someone just likes the swag of Shiva and want to adopt the same coolness, or maybe they just want a good protective mechanism when morally questioned about weed. So, what do you even believe? and what are your interpretation of it even are? What are the foundations of it and how have you been affected by it even? Different kinds of things makes sense to different people with different background for sure. But at least once in all of their lives, they must and will come across this puzzle of “knowing vs believing” because its hard to live that blindly.
So, the story is basically a poem where the writer takes up an enticing philosophical regime of whom no one really knows the objective answers to and mixed it up with the flavor of immature and new youth of desire for achievement of the so called “love”. At least that is understandable. A series of chemical happenings that take place in one’s anatomy triggering the crucial parts for pleasure inducing hormones( Aish, there you go; 15 year old me! Now, man up and think of creative things to talk about with her, already!)

And in the other hand, we don’t really know how much are we supposed to invest our “belief” potion on. May it be friends , your lover, family , society or even life for many. How much?
And as accordingly, Margo is on the same journey of finding and realizing and adding up to her experiences of new things, which will eventually help her to make an almost solid account on who she is and what kind of life she wants to lead or even the ‘eternal antidote’ to the human ignorance, suffering and the “paperness”.
But she has to be waterproof first to go beyond just paper. She has to learn to callous up. She embarks on her journey of clearing off the fog of unexplored territory, piece by piece , town by town and mystery by mystery.

On a personal note, I think the extent of how much faith and assurance and submitted we become to certain labels and experiences in our life come intuitively. This universe sure is one hell of a a vast place with infinitely random possibilities but just the fact that the way of human life has found it’s flow to the “specific in the random” is quite amazing. Subjectively is and will forever be amazing. And that’s what makes life, life.
Hence, we don’t really have to worry so much. It can be the impulse of some to choose a path that’s considered strange or even extreme, but the default is the same. The world is basically the same. So, to all the Margo’s inside each of our hearts out there, Goodluck on your journey of creating and burning of your own Paper towns. And yeah, make sure to build a real town though.

There the baby comes into my arms running at the pace of Kipchoge, that he might even trip on the way, a little inclined tub, or a bent path, almost thrilling to bear the sight on , every time. Its not slow-mo, not even so fast paced, but the kind of speed one would wish to supervise, test, analyze, and keep on glaring at , hoping it would not end but the later, the same time.

“Achutt”, “Achutt”, he says, when he sees me. When I came to this place, he was just a small one. 2 feet maybe, as curly hairs as Chowmein, and a a baby face, he used to mindlessly run around from one room to the next without any chores to do, or any things to play -pick. He would just run. At first, I just thought that our astrological deeds match, because I “lobe” running too, and getting to see a child run around in that fashion got me. “ he has a great running career ahead of him” I mumbled wannabe-humorously. And, yes, as we got to spend more time together, as the number of times I lift and throw him up and embrace, play upside down to up, do “khoi khoi khoi khoi, uhhhhh” with him, the bond grew bigger. His chant of my name grew more repetitive and frequent. His mom says, he mumbles my name even when he is about to sleep, or when she is cooking food_ or when he wakes up.. The most random times, he would say my name. And realizing the fact that my name is the first name he has ever said, feels different.

He would come knocking at my doors in the morning, which takes my sleep away, so I pull him under the bedsheet to cuddle with me. And then, he starts chanting “mammy, mammy, mammy, baba , baba, baa,” and, getting irritated, I let him go.

I tell him to say my name and not “maamy” or “baba”,. Because all he does is say people’s name reference repeatedly, looking at their faces, and nothing else. His world’s something different. When I hold him, I try to feel from his perspective, how the embrace must even feel like, in his age, because, sadly enough, I don’t remember what it felt like to be embraced when I was that age. I seriously don’t, and I am sure most of us don’t, too. I think, all the love and care the parents and guardians give to kids all form up to consolidate for some kind of happy/carefree type of personality. It gets integrated into their subconscious and will later affect them when they are older.

So, I wonder , how much love is enough? How much of it will suffice even? Seeing myself and being conscious about my behaviour when I am with those cuddly little ones, I begin to think, about my own genetic programming even. The way I am even designed and evolutionalized is quite something. We , humans are designed for love. It is a mesmerizing force, which makes us forget about ourselves and live in the moment. And, then, I ask how much more different kinds of love and how much do I yet have to gain even. And also, I don’t really know how it would be to have my own kids someday, will the love exponentialize? Will it even be something that’s comparable? I don’t know. Don’t know a lot of things. But, for now, I know that, the little one, Diyan, will forget me when I leave this temporary place(where I stay for only 2 months). He will forget me in the matter of months , never to realize I even exist thereafter. Or , would he? Would there be a void in his little subconscious heart when I am no more around him? Does my love count as a bucket of a special kind which he has to keep, or is it just the addition of the emotion in the big bucket that he has got? Such an unnecessary curiosity but I would love to know that ,someday, somehow. So, that’s why, I am keeping all the memories with me, the photos of us, the videos, as much as I can and want, so that when he gets old and understandable, I can show him, and ask him, if he remembers any of this? Or is it all forgotten? Surely, it would be sad in the first couple of days , imagining him, crying all over the place chanting my name, Achuutt, Achutt, Achutt, Achyuuuuuut(The long u).. It’s just so heartbreaking. And I will keep contact as much as I can and want. Its just that, its the ending of a chapter that won’t repeat and can’t repeat , nor stay for long. And so is with many things with life I think. There are many stories that stayed while it did. Now they only exist in memories. But, the energy remains, and that’s what we ought to be grateful for. The energy can fade away but is never destroyed. And we can use it for eternity until mortality . Because it’s a long way to go, so many stones to un-turn, so many stories to live and then leave. And so many throw up-into-the-airs to gift to kids, so that they taste sky , see heaven and choose to return back into my arms.

Personally, being a moderately high stamina player, I would look forward to score some Lewandowski-number of goals in every game and its not that hard. When I get the ball, my mind finds it hard to get conscious enough about the reality, as I am totally focused on the working muscles and the dogmatic screening of the intuition and imitation of visuals and practice throughout the years. I would dribble the ball ,with short steps, in smaller distance, with rapid scope for direction change, to beat all the opponents all the way to their goalpost. I feel hesitant to pass but do it anyway for the formality. I would just fool around doing slow motion feet tap dancing making sure no one notices while I wait for someone to pass me the ball. And sometimes, I dance to the rhythm of the melody that the presence of the ball beside my feet provide , un-hearable but still so loud, music-less but still so catchy.

I would turn my right leg to the clockwise direction from inward to ball to feint and dribble with left leg to get past opponents, Ronaldoic style. So, basically, I get the gist to be Ronaldinho while I dance no-look and butt twist. Messi when I fast-twitch and Ronaldo when I do that clockwise thing and , then I get to dribble like Mbappe, so long that most of the time it gets out of my possession, resembling the foreshadowing of my will to cover a greater distance than I am capable of, and this is all too subconscious. Everything that happens in the playground is subconscious and intuitive. The only conscious feeling is when you score a goal. But, that too becomes default and normal when you get to score a lot of goals per game aye. So, hah, basically, I do that break dance thingy when I am defending the ball and most of the times , they get drunk to the movements of my legs so twirly, sturdy, whirly and Inazuma Elevenaic, as if the wind of the wave gets the ball away from their feet to mine, . its such an automatic thing. The only time the ball gets past me is either when I am off-guard or I-tired. But I-tired is a phrase that I don’t want to make reality. Some games are too long and some too short. Most of the time, disappointment hits me when the others decide to leave saying they are too tired, when it’s just been warm-up for me. Like, come on’ ,not fair! Feels great to master the pass and play game intuition though.

There is this little guy I adore. He would always get in my team even if the odds should be against us. He trusts me. He sees me as the “dai” who can do anything really. Like, stop, really! , too much butter in the life of bread can be GI stress inducingly painful sometimes.. But, I guess, I would have to consider that the Parahelio effect to the first out-of-room white innocence ‘eye’. Those sparkling part-brown part-black eyes, voice so sweet and energy so lovely. I feel glad to be that “someone” for him and I am pretty sure he will be as great as(if not more)) he thinks of me , when he gets bigger. It will be pretty lit to see him appreciate all the bousy gousy and fowzy things in life. But, for now, mini -post is what he resembles for me. Such little space , yet bigger invitation. Such dark and rosy-thorns , yet so fluffy. “Mini-post” is what all the amazing humans like you do resemble. A “mini-post” is the get-away from all the sluggy , sticky and slumpy bars that one faces in life.

A mini-post is a real thing. It is. Perking up all of our mini chambers of beating asset to such an extent that post-guard and postfix nature of the postmodern art just lightens up the classical picture that we always had in our scope of nostalgic yearnings. So, go out there and , kick the ball and start to run. Who knows, you might give someone a chance to relinquish the joy of being nutmegged or, even the thriller of the post bar hit, and wait, don’t forget to glance at the face of the player who just conceded a goal. That is just pure satisfaction(hah!). Go ahead and pat them on the shoulders, and politely say, “ You surely have the bright potential to eat more goals.” So, have to give it our best and enjoy them while such times last, aye?

One moment you feel sore; every part of your body goes limp; you have a hard-ass time getting the ass up from that ass-associated bed. You look in the mirror, you dont see the head, you see the limp. By the barest of imagination, one could have a feeling of being at the best form that moment. Yet, somehow I knew I will have a pretty good time.

I go outside, people stare, I run. Most of them don’t. They stare at their phones. Decent girls give that "look at me" look more than "look at you!!" look. Everyone is playing badminton apparently. After all, its not that bad at all. I go ahead and I see this array of sleeping dogs lying on the ground by the side, half sleeping and half alert,twinkling down into their dog star of real-yeti.
They must be having some kind of real illusionary experience , mustn’t they? As I run by the house on the edge of the road,I jump twisting my head upside from the side , so that the sky gets to say hello to me in a visual fashion. Today, the sky was pretty normal. Not much humidity, not much Sunlight, not much love , not much frown , but it surely did much much for an observer like me to pause in the flow. And then, I kept running. I could definitely hear the chatter of three people who were ahead on the little bridge and the sight of Football being played, by a distance of 20 seconds pace. I could see my past in that distance. I could have done me a favour and went there for a while but it always sticks to me, the calling of the future and the spark of the present , that pulls me into my original direction, implying that even a second wasted in the now is very heavy.

So I do the thing I love, I run.
I cross the bridge and then go for the inclined steep hill as always. And as always, the incline brings a happening challenge to me. Doesn’t matter I have been this way a couple of hundred times before, it always brings a new spice of the same go-through recipe. I continue.
I look towards the big house and my eyes search for a little boy and a girl who reside there , mostly playing something outside.Today, they were not seen. I move, I reach the bridge(halfway point) of the melody of the music that I set out on to travel.
And the sky pulls my head upwards as if the laws of gravity means nothing. I go. I finally reach the minor plateau where a bunch of kids were playing. They see me. I am the prey . Finished.

They stick to me like Locust sticking on a regular Jaypur crop. They run towards me as if; as if no other replica is existent to describe it. its all original; so original.

I ask them, they answer. They say they have been playing since morning and will do the same till night time. I see the untiring persistence in their eyes, the way their round little face makes that ancient red-blush all over as if I were the Grylls of this wild, where I pick apples from the trees of the unknown. But it would be wrong to put it like that; you see.
They are known. They feel so much very very known. When I hold one of them up;it feels as if I have unironically reached the climax of a nostalgic film. The look in their faces, I know there can’t be anything more true,more real ,more happening, more pure(exception: dyammn pure ofc), than that.
I mean,I close my eyes and feel my heart melt when I see the replay of their peak-expression where they are having a time of their childhood, local Disneyland at play. Maybe it is because they are really beautiful on their own or the fact that they think my way of treating them to be beautiful , making real life magic in play, in the form of vision and touch and play.

I mean, that is the childhood everyone should have. Forget Harry Potter and COC for now. They need this kind of imprint in their minds where they got to explore the epitome of childhood.
There are two girls and a boy who are my favourite. Shambhavi, Saman, and Samikshya. They reflect something and say something to my core like the others can’t. And I ask what that is for a short amount of time now. Because the pureness is something that makes me feel drowned in the beauty and all that but I dont know where the hell does it feel. Is it my heart, my feeling brain or my whole damn body, or is it something that seems to transcend this dimension and reach out to something even more special? Sure, the body is capable of enduring and having such composition area but, listen; but I say, I feel a hint of some higher power at work here. Some kind of dimension I have not seen to have explored consciously yet.

Because there are already so many miracles in life. What’s wrong with making one hypothesis of one’s own imagination? There is nothing wrong. I like the closeness other humans ;children portray to me. It is one of my ways of discovering my design of being. That is how I march.

Then, I find my own piece of mindful things to put on display until I begin to consciously realize the heat burning through my veins. Its just a matter of stopping. I can’t stop, I cant tremble; or else I will get eaten by this grand pit of fire. So therefore,I march and even though it might be "May", Its the last thing I settle into. I realize that its the last day, the last time whenever I have the feeling of " May".

You know, a day is a memorable one when unexpected things happen in a blissfully coordinated timing and series of thought. One considers it memorable because of the factors like meeting the goal, extraordinary luck, the undeserved feeling , a cohorent realization or a beneficial one. But man! When I look at my life, I feel as if everyday is a day worth memorizing till death.
Every fucking day is a mystery , a kick, a victory. Just that, time is not enough .

You dont need the series of things to happen to you, you just need the series of realization of the abundance around you. Bask in the heat of sweat,kill your throat to the beat of the universal Rhapsody, dance them moves of the Ronaldic synchronisation , smile in the face of mirror and hence reality. Write your mind out,sleep the night in and enjoy the ecstasy , the glimpse and the chunks of touching moments that life serves at your table. You are the watcher , you don’t expect, you watch and review everything a 10 out of 10. Nothing less.

The pointer seems to revolve the same path of circumference of the clock everyday. Everyday, Earth rotates and rotates everyday. Everyday is the same ,and in the same day, we spend our whole lives.

The moment I wake up every morning now, is the moment I realize I exist. I live in a drama filled company with seemingly other humans with whom I have got some connection. But nonetheless, it all comes down to me and my thoughts. Its all so poetic, the fact that there are billions of other “me”s that don’t exist for me because I only know few hundreds of them. Its silly, the pattern of thoughts I consider cool and worthy writing are the only thoughts I deem worth thinking about. And its funny how, I woke up without ever having to go to sleep when I was born. Funny how personally I took it when I thought what I thought when I loved ‘you’ but ‘you’ kept changing and changing until I realized its ‘me’ rather than ‘you’ who is a constant. I can’t blame you for not being so, because you are not me. For ‘you’ is just a tool for the me that’s me. So, nevermind if my words hurt you or make you feel good, scare you or offend you, its all for me. In the pool of ‘me’s and in the pool of ‘you’s , the only difference that counts is the difference that separate you and me and how could it be that you are me and I am you?

It might really be a hard pill to swallow but so is the pill of life. How joy fills up our hearts at the times of glory and how ignorance fills up the dogmatic slumber. How much of an act we put up with , in a daily basis to find a sense of dime in this world, often trying to forget ourselves in the very core or even trying to find ourselves in our very soul. Life is a journey , where one wants to find enlightenment and finds it and then dies. Life for other ‘me’s and the original ‘you’s go on. Life goes on howsoever. Turning to tune up and down the emotional-meter of life, trying to convince ourselves the best case scenario is being fed, clenched up in a system based thoughts and string of moods, colors of your melody and the shape of my voice. Word life.

Let’s just do whatever we can do. Adjust up and down the frequencies of expectations and emotions to be of the very best possible wavelength. Let all the ‘me’s stand up and hold our infinite hands together, rather that only some of the ‘you’s and only one me. Let’s make a beautiful plan to make a beautiful system so as to cling onto the beautiful. Let’s make a system where the soul is fed with enlightenment, body with dopamine and mind ecstasy. Be it an never ending one, a while statement with no decrement value of the infinity that we are trying to create.

So, I ask you, Are you ready to be the other ‘me’ rather than the original ‘you’? Are you willing to initiate the limiting hands, where it tends to infinity rather than just two. Are you ready to ignore the ‘you’ in this particular question and substitute it with a ‘me’ so that you and I can do things together and become ‘we’? And, are you ready to tell me that its okay and you get me and that I don’t even have to say it?

Are you ready? Are you even there?

If “Sama lamaa duma lamaa you assuming I’m a human” is Eminem’s signature, then this article would be mine because here I write about what has made sense to me the most throughout the approximately 7390 days,12 hours and 35 minutes of my existence in this world. One simple word — ‘RUNNING’.

Writing, debating, cycling, blogging, football, chess, reading, singing, dancing, flirting, chatting, celebrating failure, etc. could be anyone’s thing. Well, my thing’s running.

I am the type of guy who has all the memes, jokes, stories, motivation, purposes, anti-excuses for running.

Running is not just “daudine”,” kudne”(Nepali translation) or just moving your legs as fast as possible as supposed by most non-runners. I get slightly pissed off whenever my friends mention those words while talking about running with me. Running is different than just walking fast.

To see the combination of multiples colors in the sky parallel with the intricate details of the surroundings that surround me; to see the things around me for what they are and not for what they are labelled to be is a blissful realization and that is what running has taught me. It has also taught me the importance of having a proper nutritional balance for the physical work that one does. It has taught me to cry out of sheer joy (of overcoming your limits).

Running is a beautiful compensation for living this beautiful life. The reason why people feel depressed and unhappy even in positive situations is that they have forgotten to work for what they want. Everything is handed out for free to them. We have never lived in such a technologically dominated time as we do now.

Well, running is life. There are many times when it’s tough to pull through, many obstacles to conquer throughout a run. One who has taken run seriously has to endure the pain to keep on continuing, even if the legs hurt, not only the legs but also the back along with breathing problems. It certainly makes one feel like quitting in the beginning.

The pain in the body makes his mental authority forget about the real motivation behind why he is doing this. ‘Why do runners run?’ might be a curiosity for any normal person. One might wonder why do people even choose this hardship to be their passion? Well, first off, it is the best exercise for cardio. Secondly, there are many levels to conquer and highs to achieve from this. Running can be a good reason to wake up early in the morning if one is looking to shed some weight. It creates healthy bones, improves mental health by getting the runner in his “headspace” and teaches him not to care about other’s headspace, and all the other must -know benefits such as boosting confidence, relieving stress, preventing heart diseases and respiratory problems, etc. What’s more? Runners are considered the sexiest sapiens on the planet. So if your partner runs, then you are in for a big treat in life.

What personally makes me so eligible to speak about ‘Running’ is that I am a human and I want other humans to live a better version of their own lives, especially in Nepal. And what’s more, I have plenty of experience. What competing in Kantipur half marathon two times, COAS Army day marathon several times, several Kathmandu trail series races, and countless mini races, has taught me is that the day that you can consider your ‘Best day of my life’ achieved is when you have worked the hardest and performed your best because of all the past preparation for the same event. Furthermore, I am the type of guy who lands either top 20 or top 10 no matter how small (340 people) or big (4000 people) the race is. And those are the most beautiful highs ever experienced. Highs that one earns.

In this infinite universe of countless cosmological creations, representing the sensory organs of the realm, I live and I breathe for another potential day filled with running. That, surprisingly, is the thing I choose to do so passionately every day that despite the millions of other things to do and see. I choose this form of life. I choose this form of reality and this form of education. I should admit that I had to exaggerate the concept of running in my initial days to push myself forward. Now that I have mastered it, more like getting used to it, there’s potentially nothing that can stop me from running my heart out every single day.

There have been moments when I have literally cried during a run. Hormones released in an emotional fashion, one might say. It was as if a whole new world was waiting to be discovered through my footsteps and this experience was when I once visited a hill. Just imagine running in the countless hills in Nepal. Feels quite astonishing to be a citizen of a country where there are many trails, and you are literally living in a jungle inhabited society. That reminds me of our primitive lifestyle, 99.92 % of human history; when our ancestors used to fight with raw bred animals, just for the sake of survival. They needed no fancy shoes to travel miles and miles every day. They needed no motivation to do so. ‘Survival’ was enough motivation for them.

And here we live in this snowflake, spoon-fed couch comfort period when “I am too lazy to get up early for a run” sounds like a cool thing to say. Cool, like really? One can make time for running even in the evening, can’t they?

Starting to run is like using a high-end Beats headphone instead of the regular hundred rupees one(normal life without running). Starting to run will make one realize that there is a level up’ in real life and not only in video games, a better way to live life in which every cell of your body constantly heals and grows. A life where your mind is satisfied with the concept of accomplishment.

Let me break it down in runners’ language,

Real happiness = Sense of accomplishment = Running a mile a day.

Give a dog a mobile phone,

observe what happens,

and if that is life,

running will teach that dog to use the phone correctly,

And on a darker and heavier note,

“If you don’t run, you don’t count”

-Achyut Kayastha.

And let me tell you a secret, I have a secret level of admiration for people who run, more than the people who don’t, no matter if they are friends or families. And if you are a non-runner reading this, I am sorry! I might not admire you that much.

So, I am not asking you to become an ultra runner just yet. I am asking you to give this concept of running a try.

Wear your trousers, get your t-shirt, grab your phone, put on a playlist and go out for a run. You can stop when you get tired and run again. It is all about the process of starts and stops until you finally improve. You can then share the experience with other friends and convince them to do the same as well because as Uncle Ben from Spiderman quoted it, “ With great responsibility, comes great power.”

This whole article is basically a friend request from me. I am representing every runner in the world. So, you have a chance of becoming someone’s friend today. Yayy!

Especially in a country where PE is almost absent in our school routine and where people look for excuses if they are confronted with the concept of fitness, it’s high time we change. It is time to conquer the mind and purify the soul. It is time to glance back into the old method of survival for the enhancement of high-performance abilities in the new age of the 21st century. It is time to ask ourselves what excuses stop us from taking ourselves to the next level? What is more important than our health? What will benefit us in the long term, our mobile phone or our body?

A random meme:

Nobody:

Literally nobody: I really regret that run.