Book Review: Ode to Yala: Poems by Rajan Maharjan
Published by Nirala Publications (2025)
Reviewed by Sumeet Singh
As I grabbed Ode to Yala by Rajan Maharjan, a close friend from my high school days, I wondered if I would find myself journeying back to a place once familiar to me or even perhaps somewhere comforting. But instead, it hit me hard. The poems froze me mid-step—stirred up pieces of the past I had forgotten once existed, and made me pause, heavy-hearted, as I relived moments from a life I had walked away from. Reading these poems was like hearing a longtime friend open up after staying quiet for ages.
A silence rooted deep and loud
Having been shaped and softened by real-life experiences, Rajan’s voice feels tender, carrying an air of petrichor, bringing back memories of the scent of rain-soaked ground. His verses echo the beats and rhythms of Dhimay drums (traditional Newari musical instrument), hold the coziness of shared courtyards, and yet remain humble, rooted in the kind of places that quietly shape us into who we are.
In “The Hiti—The Stone Spout,” he metaphorizes the water outlet as a “quiet tale-spinner”; right then, it hit me—those small spots from my early years, the noises and tales we knew but never mentioned anymore.
This book brings back what was lost, using a fresh voice to uncover hidden stories while quietly reshaping how we remember them.
Ode to Yala is divided into two chapters—Double Rainbows and Jyapu in Me Fading—and consists of twenty-three poems.
Grief, Migration, and the Fragility of Memory
Winter: Cold Grief, Warm Memories stands out as a strong piece in the collection. How the poet describes his dad’s passing (bless his soul), the frost of sorrow, the shaky flame, and that lifeless figure on December’s first day had struck me deeper than I thought possible. Being far away when someone is gone is something many migrants feel and yet Rajan puts it into words with raw clarity. He is good at this because he never exaggerates sadness; instead, he just lets it linger there beside you.
Between Two Worlds
In Part I, “Double Rainbows,” and Part II, “Jyapu in Me Fading,” one recalls, while the other faces up to things. In “New York” the poet discusses feeling isolated—the harsh breezes and how draining it is to start from scratch. In the poems, such as “Inwood” or “Spirit of New York,” the poet shows that even within a bustling urban jungle, loneliness bites hard. Yet suddenly you are back in Yala, kicking up dust on rough paths, feeling the heat of steady sunlight, hearing temple bells ring out, and running past Ajimas (a deity), while old childhood chants echo nearby.
A tribute to Yala (Patan) hits deep; it is personal, like a note from someone who left just to get how big home really is.
The Weight of Heritage
My top pick from PART II is “Jyapu in Me Fading.” Rajan talks about his mom and dad working hard in the field despite never receiving any formal education and making many sacrifices. The tug inside, respecting your roots but turning into someone from old times, would not recognize this as the soft core hiding behind nearly all immigrant lives. Then there’s Apasa, just wow. Scenes of Ma working in paddy fields, running the corner store, and piecing together clothes in narrow lanes seem familiar.
Rajan shows them so sharply in his poems that you would swear it’s your mom, or maybe even grandma, moving through the alley.
What This Book Meant to Me
Going to high school together with Rajan and watching how each of us forged our own path made reading his book a somewhat strange experience. That was both proud and nostalgic. To see someone from our school, from our generation, have the courage to write like this—honestly, vulnerably, beautifully—is mesmerizing.
Our memories? They mean something.
Wherever we head, we are on our path, no matter where life takes us. It’s part of who we are, even when we move on. Rajan created something uncommon, a story for people torn between old memories and new paths, with roots pulling one way while dreams point in another direction.
Final Thoughts
Ode to Yala is not just a poetry book. It’s a collection of traditions. It’s a journey log. A nod to moms, dads, elders, and to the roots tied to where you are from. Rajan, in his poems, shows how we discover what we truly stand for even when the past weighs heavily.
Gratitude sinking in, I turned the final page feeling fully content, calm, and thankful. I am thankful to Rajan for putting pen to paper and also thankful for those tiny, overlooked places he brought back to mind.
Have you ever stepped away from home? If yes, then this story talks right to your heart.
Verdict: Stunning. Touching. Real and full of heart.
Sumeet Singh (US Army Veteran) is a writer, director, actor, and currently a doctoral candidate at Walden University.
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