Monday blue turned yellow

Yesterday was Monday and a holiday in Telengana for some festival, the name of which I am unaware. Friends planned to sleep half the day and then chill and I was like, Damn! I have classes. And classes I did have, morning 10 to 12, afternoon 2 to 4. Nothing more exhausting than classes on a holiday. No one likes Mondays anyways, especially me. It worsens, when you have a holiday on Monday but you still have classes. So Monday blue became a shade darker.

After the fourth hour I returned to my room, to my nest. Tired I decided to take some rest so I leaped on my bed and switched on my phone data. As soon as its done a message pops up. "Welcome little man. Happy parenthood to Ata and mathang", reads the message. Its delivered in our family group chat on wechat from my third elder brother. We have been waiting for him to arrive and finally he is here. So brother and I, both excited debates on who will get to see him first. The impatience built up but we had to wait for his photo. But when I finally receive his photo, all the impatient feelings melts into love for that little one. All the tiredness and the frustration for Monday vanishes. A tiny face, pink eyelids, a cute small mouth and fair complexioned. "He is fair", I think out loud, to which all the family members agree. The blue colour fades into yellow at the end of the day. How can I not love the day this little one steps into our family? I stare into his peaceful sleeping face. Today is his second day and in every photo I see of him, he is sleeping so I decide to call him the 'Sleeping handsome'. Come November and I can see him in real and hold him. Excited!

Congratulating my brother and in-law on their first born, congratulating my family on another new member and myself on getting the third nephew. Wishing our little one all the happiness and good health with a promise to be there for him on every step he takes. We love you boy!

Love Letters

So I am having one of those sleepless nights and then my thoughts wandered far and wide. As I let my thoughts wander, I rolled back into my school days. That, also reminded me that I have a blog and I haven't updated anything for quite a while. And here I am sitting infront of my laptop trying to put my thoughts into words. Ah! the school days. Those days were the most carefree days, GOSH! Of course apart from those stressful days of exams and little scoldings and beatings from the teachers, those were the finest days. Following the regular schedule on time, going to school, coming back and writing our homework was all we had to worry about. Compared to the present day of my life, where worries weigh more than anything, those worries were insignificant.

Curiosity is always associated with kids and kids we were. Even with the boundary set for us as students, we would discretely cross that boundary finding some sort of satisfaction and happiness on the other end. Experimenting, we were in the process of discovering 'things'. Some tried smoking, some tired sniffing correcting fluid and some tried chewing tobacco, while the others tried learning the values of life, education, teachers, parents, friendship and not to forget LOVE! Starting of the school used to be the most exciting days. The students had one of their ears and eyes dedicated to the newcomers. Unless the newcomer was a jerk or a drama queen, which of course none of us would know in the beginning, everyone would rush to befriend them. The dominant ones used to 'book' the beautiful newcomer but more than often, they ended up being friend-zoned. 

Photo courtesy: Google

And there were those Saturdays when people used wear their best gho and kira to school. The girls tried their best to match the colours of their tego, wonju and kira. Reflecting upon it, I guess we looked like caterpillars when we dressed in green and like some bug when we dressed in red. The social work time used to be interaction time, not just among classmates but also between the juniors and the seniors.

Almost ninety nine percent of the love stories in school used be love on first sights. The student who liked the other shied away from him or her and escaped every little confrontations. Talking in person with that person was never an option. That is when 'love letters' came to the rescue of the ones struck with Cupid's arrows. With boys often being the ones writing the first love letter of 'proposal', girls were spared the humiliation of rejection. The closest friend of the girl or the boy was one delivering the letters, often called the 'messenger'. Though the boy had written the letter, almost forty percent of the chances for beginning of the relationship depended on the messenger. The boy always used to be in a rush to know the response. Sometimes the girl did not even accept the letter, some threatened to report the letter to a teacher if the boy did not stop writing letters to her. The others would read it and say no and yet some took the trouble to write a letter to explain why they can't accept his 'love', simultaneously friend-zoning him.

If the girl also liked the guy, she wrote back a letter of acceptance or just told the messenger that she likes him too. Then, the letters carrying the unspoken words of love were exchanged between the lovebirds; inside notebooks and textbooks or desks. From then on their lives revolved around it. Letters were often addressed to, "My nearest and dearest" and some made use of the lesson taught in the class by using, "Apple of my eyes". Some wrote pages and some wrote a few lines. Often ending with, "Yours forever" or "Yours eternally" and a side note read "I will love you forever" and "Reply as soon as possible".  Extreme care was taken of those letters. If a teacher came across one of those, both the students landed up in huge trouble, from being thrashed to the extent of informing the parents, which also ended up with another session of thrashings. Naturally 'forever' vanished after such thrashing sessions.

I suppose writing love letters helped them improve their language, especially the ones who wrote pages of those. But the ones who were bad in language always bugged the ones good in it to write their love letters. And same was the position of the ones who had bad hand writing. However 'forever' and 'eternally' ended when the school closed or when the students transferred to another school, with most of the once lovers hating on each-other and not even in terms of talking. Those were also the best days to choose bitter enemies; as bitter as divorced couples who had fought over the custody of their child.

I hope those couples later realized that they were wrong and started talking again when they grew old enough to see through their mistakes.

Cell phones have taken over love letters now. One can barely see words of love written on a neatly folded paper these days and this has also lessened the risk of getting caught and the thrashing sessions.

Away from home on losar

Losar, and I am still away from home. On this day I miss my parents and siblings dreadfully. This is my fourth losar away from home. Had a hollow feeling since last night. And it saddens me to know that I will not be home for the next losar as well.

My folks must be all geared up for the losar celebration. Sister and in-law must be up by now, preparing thukpa and suja. Nephew must be up too, all excited and toddling around the house. Apa must be saying his prayers in the alter room. Brother must be glad that he can sleep a few extra hours, tucked warmly under those thick pile of blankets. Nieces must be happy that they have no school today and its losar. The weather must be cold still and they must be sticking to eachother in bed.

After a while, sister will force them out of their beds because on losar you should wake up early, only then will you be able wake up early on the other days of the year.

I always used to be so excited about losar and start to make plans for the day even if I knew that losar was in two weeks time. Other days used to be the hardest to get up but on  losar, I would rise as early as my mother and father. I used to love drawing and painting and losars used to be my favorite drawing and painting day. After breakfast, my siblings and I used to play games while our parents would prepare lunch and before lunch we would bask in the sun, the whole family together. Sigh! those were beautiful days. After lunch my parents would sit and drink together, just the two of them: years of marriage, 5 kids, a lot of troubles they faced but yet, when I used to see them together like that, I wished time would stop and we would be like that forever. I would sit beside them and draw, paint and do stuffs while my siblings would be playing outside. Those days are long gone now. All of us live in different places. Now celebrating losar together is just a dream and memories.

My mother always used to say, people should wear new clothes on losar, eat good food, be happy and not fight. Because losar is the first day of the year, it marks your year. If you fight on losar, you will fight for the whole year and same with the rest. So, on losars, everytime we were on the verge of quarreling, me and my siblings used to say, "if we quarrel today, we will quarrel the whole year" and then we would end up compromising. That was the charm of our mother's believe that worked on us, that kept us from quarreling.

Got a call from home! Sister says we will celebrate losar together in the future. Growing impatient waiting for that future. 

On this day I send my wishes to my family and the rest. May the day be good for all and may the year be filled with good health and happiness.
TASHI DELEK TO EVERYONE ON LOSAR!

My cycling journey

I have always fancied at how people can ride a bicycle. I wondered about how they could balance themselves on those two wheels, not even wider than two inches. When I was a kid there was this one time when I was forced onto a bicycle by my friends and I fell almost six meters below the road. Thankfully none of my bones broke though I had cuts all over my face, hands and legs. I had to hide behind the door, when my father returned from office, from the fear that he may scold me for trying something I wasn't good at and getting hurt. But now I don't remember if he scolded me or not but he sure nursed my wounds. Even till this day my brothers remembers that incident and laugh. They still recall how my face looked like.

Ever since, I have never even tried to learn how to ride a bicycle let alone ride one. And when I joined college, I saw that many people here were using a bicycle as their means of transportation and almost everyone in my college knew how to ride one and that's when I felt the urge to learn to ride a bicycle.The first time I started to learn how to ride a bicycle, I had bruises on my elbows and knees, I forgot to pedal sometimes and sometimes I forgot to turn the handle on the right direction because I was too nervous and scared. And each time I fell down I would get a new bruise.

After several days I learned to balance on it and did not forget to pedal nor turn the handle. I would ride it in the campus to make sure I can balance well. A few days later, I was cycling on the highway with my friends and the experience was thrilling. By the way, I almost gave a guy a lift on the front wheel on that day. Since then I have learned how to side away from the people walking on the road. The big trucks and buses had me trembling and every time one of those passed by, I stopped.

After a few days of cycling on the highway gave me confidence. So every time I got a chance, I went cycling with my friends. But I never learned to make a U-turn or cross a road, even to this day. I am too scared to turn around, so I get down and push the bicycle to it turn back.

It's now been almost two years since I last rode a bicycle. I have been planning on going for cycling since the starting of the semester but one or the other thing held me back. Finally yesterday I found a reason to go cycling. I wondered if I can balance on that thing again. 'Can I still balance on it?', I asked myself. 'Not confident, may be I can', I replied to myself. So I planned to not go out of the campus if I can't balance well.

When I rode it, I went in a zig zag for a few meters and almost hit a few of those people on the way but I was glad I could still ride on it. When I reached the main gate of my campus, my hands and legs were trembling. I was not so confident if I could ride it on the highway. I however made my attempt and cycled about six kilometers. When I went ahead of my friends I felt like I am going to lose balance and fall down and when I remained behind I felt like I am going to crash into them but thankfully, nothing of the sort happened.

I was sweating when I reached back in the campus. My legs and hands were still trembling. At the same time I was happy that I can still balance on a bicycle. Got to go cycling more frequently, so that I don't have to have those bruises all over again. :)

Of winter break, I, and B-Mobile internet service

Dated: 20/11/2014

It is getting colder, I get into bed by 8:00 PM. Cold feet is never comfortable thus I always wear socks to bed and cover my feet with a small warm blanket underneath the huge blankets that I use to cover myself. Once warm and comfortable in bed I try logging into Facebook. The net is bad but I still try for a few minutes. The net is too lazy to lead me into my account and the warmth of my bed slowly lulls me to sleep. A goodnights sleep after a tiring two hours of walk in the day.

Next day, I find myself awake in the early hours of the morning. Father and niece with whom I share the room are probably fast asleep because I can’t hear them. My first thought is my last act of the night: my phone! With my eyes still half open, I start feeling for my phone. I find it buried beneath the covers with me; sometimes near my feet, sometimes under me. The places I find my phone in, in the mornings makes me feel glad that my phone isn’t a smartphone. A few nudges at a hard key and my phone comes back to life.

First thing I see on the screen is the Facebook message page. Oh my! I have been online the whole night! It seems like the net always works only after I fall asleep. I skim through the few messages that my friends have dropped for me. A ‘Hi’ from one, a ‘sticker’ from another, a ‘Goodnight’ from yet another and etc., some have been online a few minutes before I came back to life, some a few hours ago. I failed to respond to their messages. Curse me not, if you have to, curse the net. While out of the country, I feel amazed about how people so often say the net is bad in the country but now I realize, it wasn’t an excuse. You know it only when you stand in the same shoes. Karma saw that! It is now my time to get the shoe bites. Someone who has always found it funny when people said the net in the country is bad, can’t even say the net is bad when one faces it. So ‘Mum’ is the word.  I decide not to mention the net while replying to the messages.

Facebook becomes a place of boredom, when you have no one to chat with. I log out and go back to sleep, when my niece wakes up and starts playing. Have always wondered, why kids love waking up early? Another few hours of sleep and my other half of the day starts. I hear my nieces, who are getting ready for school. Nephew is up too. The bed becomes a magnet during mornings especially the cold ones and mornings in Bhutan are always cold. I lay still in bed till the clock strikes 7:30 AM. After that I have no choice but to get up.

Another two hours of walking to and fro, six hours in the office (almost half of that time spent on trying to use Dzongkha Unicode), and another night with the bad net; the same thing happens all over again.

Early morning post after a sleepless night

It's exactly 5 AM in the morning and here I am sitting on my bed while writing this. I am not an early bird, so obviously, I have had another one of those sleepless nights. Its an irony for someone like me, who loves sleep having a sleepless night.

I tried to sleep after turning off the lights and the laptop at 1 AM but ended up spending an hour tossing around in bed. Despite sleeping in a dark room with my eyes tightly closed, I felt like I was outside in bright daylight. After much trying, I thought a soothing music would lull me to sleep, so I played music on my ipad and while I hugged onto it, I tried to get myself to help the music to lull me to sleep. Sleep did not visit me still and after three hours of listening to music and an hour of tossing around in bed, here I am giving up on inviting sleep.

A night without sleep makes me weary the next day and today is sure going to be one of those days, when I feel so weak and weary and the vision becomes blurred. Those days are tough and today shall also be one. No doubt!

As I sit here, I can hear a cricket outside, it probably has been chirping the whole night but I can hear it loud and clear now. I was taught that crickets chirp to signal the end of summer. Summer has been long gone. September and August are gone as well but the crickets are still chirping. They apparently are confused with the kind of weather this year had had. Last year, at this time of the year, winter was already here but this year summer went away so late. Effects of global warming a friend of mine told me a few days ago. The heat lasted till the first weeks of October. Just a week ago, a slight rain brought the temperature down. Now we have to wear warm clothes even while in the room with the fan switched off. From 42ºC to 17ºC, its amazing, how a place can have such a vast change in temperature in but just a twelve months time. God sure is very creative. :D
Another 30-40 minutes and the sun will be up and bright but since the day of rainfall, the weather here has been a little cloudy, with very less penetration of sun rays through the thick layers of clouds. Cold days unlike any other days makes me miss Bhutan more. Bhutan must almost be freezing by now, especially Thimphu with the snow already reaching Phajoding. Can't wait to be home and fight the cold along with my folks. Going to school must be getting harder for my little ones at home. Having to wake up early in the cold and walking to school must be a torture by now. :( Pool little ones. 

The dark shade outside is getting lighter. Morning calls started, with the birds taking over the job of chirping from the cricket. I can no longer hear the cricket; it probably retreated into it's nest for the well deserved rest. I hope it doesn't have a sleepless day like I had a sleepless night. Now, its the job of the birds to keep the day busy, while the crickets rests. When the sun comes up, I shall go up to the terrace to watch this semester's last sunrise. And if possible get a few pictures clicked, just hoping the sun comes up today.
6 o'clock! Time to rush to the bathroom and wash myself fast, so that I make it on time to watch the sunrise. Have a good day! :)

How often do we thank our parents?

Spending time alone with your parents is sheer joy. Every time I get free time I sit with my father either talking to him or reading a book with him. Losing a parent has taught me the real value of parents and I make it a point that I never lose time while I have it to be with the only one I am left with. So I usually prefer being left alone with him rather than attending some function happening at a neighbor’s or going for a movie.

It was one such time when I was at home a few weeks ago. I and my father were the only ones at home. After lunch we were sitting outside in the sun, when he wanted to take bath and I told him I will prepare hot water for his bath. It took me about half an hour to heat up the water and prepare the water for his bath. As I was almost done preparing the water, I asked him to get a towel and get into the bath. After a few minutes, he emerged out of his room with a towel and some clothes to be changed into. I told him the water was ready in the bathroom. He said, “Thank you”. A mere ‘thank you’ by a grateful father to his daughter but that brought back memories of my own childhood. Each time I needed to take a bath, my father would always heat up the water and reach it till the bathroom. All I had to do was take a towel and take bath. As I reached back into those memories, I didn’t remember ever thanking my father for the deed. Preparing the water for my bath is but just a minor part of the things he has done for me and my siblings, apart from that there are a lot of greater things that my father has done for us but then I never thanked him for any of those. In fact I don’t remember ever thanking my parents for anything they did for me.

Likewise, it had me thinking about how many children of my age and the ones older than me would have thanked their parents. I suppose, kids these days thank their parents for things they do for them. For example, my niece who is in the sixth standard this year thank her mother every time after getting her mother’s help with her homework and she thank her father for things he does for her. Modernization and education have brought both the kids and the parents to the next level. I do not mean that the older generations have not been educated. There are those who are highly educated but their parents are not. So, even if the kids thank their parents it would be of less value as the parents would not understand it in the first place. Secondly, even if the kids thank the parents, then they are bound by the stereotypical thinking of the people. While the educated knows, what it means, when the kids thank their parents, people in the villages understand it less. I suppose this is one reason why the kids don’t thank their parents even when they are thankful.

I am not sure, what was the reason behind me not thanking my parents for anything they did for me though I was thankful for those deeds. I now often think, was it the surrounding that I was brought up in or was it the elders that I followed that had that effect on me? Though I have been brought up in both urban and rural places, I have not had that experience of meeting someone like myself thanking their parents. And they may not have done so as they like me may not have met someone who would thank their parents. And the elders may not have thanked their parents because their elders did not do so. So it probably comes from times immemorial. But now I can see the change happening. And even I make started thanking my father for everything he does for me. It was happiness I experienced. That, ‘thank you’ was another gift my father gave me. I learned, what it is like to be thanking my father for what he does for me. Otherwise my parents would never have known how thankful I am to them.

Thank you Apa and Ama. I am glad you are my parents. I love you guys. :)

Humanity showed up once again.

We live in a world, where almost no one has time for the other person. Life gets busier by the day and we have no time to spare. Humanity is lost and wealth and fame has become the priority of our lives and it almost seems like it is the reason we live for. Money really talks like everyone says. You have money, you have everything and you don’t have it, you have nothing. Just nothing at all! “Everything comes with price tags”, I was once taught in my Torts class. Even emotions have price tags, otherwise there wouldn't be people marrying for money. The world has become more materialistic than, what it used to be once upon a time. Sad but a fact it is! These days fame and money makes humans and it is as if humans live without emotions.

Even while everyone is busy earning money, piling it up in their bank accounts or either buying comforts, which they obviously are not able to enjoy, humanity shows up its face. The perfect timing to remind everyone of us, of the fact, that we are humans. We still need one another to live and most importantly to live peacefully. It is then that we realize how important it is to help eachother but that realization is also short lived. Anyhow it is better than never realizing. It atleast restores humanity once in awhile.

Recently a post with a picture of a patient has been going around on Facebook with the message, "My daughter Sangay Lhaden, who is in CMC Vellore, is in need of blood. Anyone in and around Vellore willing to save her life by donating blood may please contact me at 0091**********." Humanity lent its hand in helping the helpless father, who had come to a foreign land with the hope of getting his daughter cured of the disease; everyone, who saw the post, started sharing the post, eventually reaching those students studying in Chennai and Coimbatore area. They probably called up the patient’s father and got the blood group confirmed. Another post came up again after a few days on the timeline of the patient’s father; this time it was a picture of a number of boys sitting in the waiting room of a hospital with the caption, "14 Bhutanese students in Chennai and Coimbatore came to Vellore to donate blood for my daughter in times of need. I thank them all." Humanity restored! These men, who visited the hospital to donate blood for the patient by taking timeout of their busy schedule really made everyone, who saw the post believe that, humanity exists still, somewhere, somehow.

Students who came up to the hospital to donate blood, in the process of doing so. Sangay's father writes, "Bhutanese students from Chennai donating platelets for my daughter in CMS Hospital. There are no words to to thank them." Photo Courtesy: Facebook.

The sense of belonging to eachother is the reason they were there. Being a Bhutanese, I feel proud to know that our people never leave another countryman at times of need. Going through those posts, I had goose bumps on my skin. A feeling indescribable crept in me and I thought out loud, “This is how Bhutanese are”. At home or away from home, we are always ready to lend a helping hand for our country man. And the patient is now probably a little better from, what she used to be because I saw a post by her father. I hope she gets better soon and gets back home safe. Everybody back home must be waiting so impatiently. Speedy recovery, Sangay. Take care!

As I wake up today, I am dead.

As I wake up today, I am dead. My body is stiff and I am no longer breathing, while my soul is looking at it and trying to make it get up. My skin is pale. It must have been a while since I stopped breathing. My wife and mother of my two kids is sleeping beside my cold and immobile body. She is unaware of my state. How long will it be before she discover?
The alarm goes off and she opens her eyes slowly. As usual, she is turning over to my side and embracing me. At the touch of my cold skin she recoils, a small shriek  escapes her lip. I can see fear in her eyes and thoughts of a shaky future whizzing through her mind.
Her hand's inching forward again, propelled by a dying hope. She nudges me, shakes me harder and then the first tear rolls down her rosy cheeks. Her cries are agitating our baby who is sleeping so innocently in peace which may continue for some years till questions about me rise in his mind.
Woken up by her mother's cries, my little daughter is at our bedroom door, trying to rub sleep out of her eyes, her hand clutching on the curtain. She is walking closer and sees her mother crying and then looks at me. She comes near and gives me a kiss on the cheek, which would usually make me wake up and pull her in a bear hug. When it doesn't happen, she does it again. I try to lift my hands, but not a finger moves. I want to hug her like always and listen to her giggles, when I hug her but I no more hear her giggle. I can just hear her silent sobs.
By noon there are a whole lot of people. I can feel the moisture of tears in the air. I now lie on a table in a tent outside my house. Covered in white cloth, on a thin carpet. A wall of yellow cloth is built around me. People come into the tent, solemn, some holding back tears, some bland, some crying out their eyes. My wife is sitting outside the 'yellow wall'. My son is on her lap and my daughter is sitting next too her. I wish to see them only, I want my wife not to cry but she won't stop.
My son is crying now, he is probably startled by all these people. I can hear someone walking around, with him cradled in her arms, trying to calm him down. That is not going to work; he can sleep only when we are silent and still. I found this out when he was two months old when my wife and I had so many sleepless nights.
It's already been a week now. I can see all the family members present. Numbers of gelongs and gomchen comes to my house daily and pray so many prayers infront of me and in my house. I pray that they pray for a trail free after-life. I know that I will have to leave physically too. To a new home and I am too scared to even think of what's waiting for me there.
I am naked now. Some people are washing my body. My shame doesn't bother them as I am now just another dead body for them. They dress me up handsomely and adorn me and take me to a place where there is a stack of woods. They place me on the ground on a carpet again. Face covered with a yellow scarf.
Soon men in my family enters the scene and says it's time. My girl stands there, silently looking on. My wife comes near me, lifts the scarf covering my face and takes a last look at it. Drops of her tears wet my cheeks as she stares into my face. Then her mother holds her back as they lift me. They shift me from the carpet onto the stack of woods.
I am on a stack of woods now. There's the smell of freshly cut trees in the air. They start stacking more woods upon me, slowly, as if they know that I can feel it. One if them nudges me with a long stick and positions me. I can no longer see my family properly.
I can hear someone say, light it. The smell of fire. Its's becoming hotter. My body catches fire and a man keeps poking me with a stick and it's hurting me. You may think I am dead, but it hurts. As the fire slowly eats away my body, I can hear my wife crying out loud. She needs to be strong, for our kids. It is no longer in my power to protect them now. I can just watch over them. Now I can hear footsteps walking away, leaving me here. My  body no longer exists. I am just a soul and ash.
My ashes have been left here for three days now. A few men collects them onto some bags on the third day. They carry it on their backs and places them in a vehicle . Crying, my wife waves a white scarf. The vehicle is moving. This is the last my family will see anything of me. They sprinkle my ashes into the river. I am leaving. Alone!

Thank you 2013, favour me 2014

Dear 2013, you have been a beautiful year and thank you for that. Let 2014 know that I expect nothing less than you from it.

photo courtesy: Google

"Can't believe Earth completes a revolution every year so that you guys could party..!!", I saw a status on the wall of one of my facebook friend. As I read that line I realized that it indeed is a true thing. The earth completes a revolution and the people on earth starts celebrating. The hope to have a better year compared to the one that has already been spent awakens the spirit in each one of us. Celebrations and parties happening everywhere. Wishes for a happy year passing from one to another. The past forgotten despite what it had brought with it.

Another year has just passed by in a blink and I am growing a year older with the celebration of a new year. I am growing old but a new year also brings so much hope with it so I am pushing away the thought of me getting older. 2013 hasn't been a bad year unlike some of the years in my life. It taught me new things, gave me new friends and more importantly it gave me the strength to pull through it. And finally it's bidding me goodbye. Thank you 2013 for the being a beautiful year and letting me and the ones around me live peacefully. I admit that there has been a few of those 'scary' moments but those hasn't been enough to cover up all of those happy ones. I am glad I survived those moments. Now that I have made it till the the end, I am looking forward to 2014 to be a year far better than 2013.

The first day of the new year 2014 and I suppose most of the people out there have one or many resolutions for themselves but I have none. I never had one till date. I sat thinking about having a resolution this year but then I landed up having nothing in my mind. I could think of nothing to change about myself and my life. I concluded the effort with the thought that I am good the way I am now. And if ever there is a need to change anything about myself I have not much of a problem to change it right away. So that is how I have not even a single new year resolution.

A day of a new year is almost ending and I sit here writing and hoping I have another beautiful year. I wish 2014 would protect my family and friends like 2013 did. May it bless us with less of worries and lesser of ill health. I hope 2014 will be a year filled with happiness for me, for my family and friends and for the world.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, 2014!!!

Dear god, Keep my motherland safe.

When everything seems to fall out of places and tumbling down, I look up to you y last savior. Please keep my motherland safe.

My motherland is still a very young democratic country, done with only five years of it. The second 5-year democratic election has been held just a few days back. Too young and inexperienced is my motherland in this things. She isn't still well versed with the rule of the game and still doesn't know the tricks. With my motherland having such an unstable government at this crucial moment seems to me like it is going week in the knees.
The parties who competed with one another to rule the country for another five years were at war. They say they will do that and do this. Throwing allegations at one another's face, dragging each-other to court and defaming each-other are what they did to be the one superior than the other. They say their main objective is to serve the King, country and the people. I wonder if that is even true or not. I don't understand why they (highly educated and wise we consider them to be) don't understand that they can serve the country even while being at the lowest of the ranks. To me it seems like they are just hungry for power.
On the other hand there are these news about the neighboring nations keeping an eye on her. Constant fear grabs the hearts of the innocent citizens. They wish their motherland was a monarchy as always, some wish they could revert it back to the peaceful times when the king ruled the nation and some wished the elections were already over. If wishes came true beggars would ride and I would never want my motherland to become a democratic country.
The elections are already over but the chaos still did not subside. They are still not done pointing fingers to each-other, yet no one wants to take the blame.  Chaos inside out and the ones at loss is the nation and the people. In this situation, dear god, please protect my motherland and keep it safe.

Down the (lost) memory lane.

The cool evening breeze blows against Tempa's wrinkled cheeks as he sits near the prayer wheel with a rosary in his left hand and the other turning the prayer wheel. His thin frail hand can't even turn the huge prayer wheel and feels glad whenever he is being lended a helping hand for his task. When almost the prayer wheel stops a little boy runs up to it and turns it around. Tempa raises his weary eyes to look into an innocent and cheerful face, which resembled someone whom he knew. As the little boy turns to leave, something catches his eyes, which makes him turn back. Quickly he reaches into his pocket, takes out a clean handkerchief and offers it to the old man to wipe his welled up eyes. The young boy makes himself comfortable near Tempa, placing his tiny hand on his lap and asks if he is alright.

Tempa stammers while replying, "I am not very fine, some good old memories hit me as I saw you".

Curious, the little boy's eyes brightens up and instantly asks "You have a grand son like me?".

Tempa just swings his head sideways in a gesture to say 'no'. Tears still welling up in his eyes, he slowly pats the little boy's back and says, "That is a long story dating back to, when I was about a few years older than what you are now".

No sooner Tempa completes the sentence, the little pair of eyes brghtens and exclaims "Oh! a story? I love listening to stories,my grandmother tells the most beautiful stories".

The wrinkled face stretches to form a weary smile and right through the parted lips the gums are easily visible. Tempa is in his late 70's but his memories of his first love is still intact. Almost 60 years ago he would met her. Every time Tempa comes across a similar face Tempa would go into inner turmoil leaving him drowning in the pain of regrets and the guilty feeling. Possessing a caring heart was his first love, who had made every effort for the relationship to get going but he would just ignored her. Only had he not been careless about her the ending would not have been this.

Bouncing back from his memories, Tempa asks, "What is your name?".

The boy flashes the sweetest of smiles and replies "I am Samdrup and what do I address you as?".

"You have a nice name,I am Tempa but you can also call me Agay Tempa if you want to", replies Tempa.

No sooner are they done introducing, a man calls out for Samdrup. "Agay, I will leave now, Apa is in a hurry", saying so, Samdrup hops towards a smartly dressed man.

Its already late and Tempa is returning to his hut but it takes him so long though it is not so far away. Limping, Tempa reaches his small hut. A pile of cardboards serves as his matress and as he lay staring at the holes in the roof, memories strikes back.

It has been during his High school days, when he met Zangmo, his first love. He has fallen for her on the first sight but has taken almost two years to confess. Gathering all the courage he had, he proposed her by the end of the academic year of his twelve standard. Zangmo was a year junior to him. When she finally replied, he had been the happiest person in campus. The love birds would not miss a chance to see eachother even during the short recess and when finally the winter break came, they were heart broken yet parted with much pain and the promise to be in contact and make it a point to meet once in a while. Even during the break, they despised being home. Late night calls and the exchange of messages became a routine. They met every once in a while and those had been the happiest of their moments. Holding hands, going for long walks and dinner added much bliss to their meetings. In the meanwhile, Tempa's result was declared and both were much glad to know that he had qualified for Higher studies. When another academic year started, Zangmo was the only one going to school. Tempa joined college, far from where Zangmo's school was located. Though distance grew between them, their love never decreased. During the short breaks he got, Tempa visited her in her school and when apart, they had yearned to see eachother. A year, passed and Zangmo appeared her exam. Yet, another winter break was almost over with the same things happening between the love birds. Zangmo could not qualify for higher studies and coming from a financially backward family she could not even continue.

Things started changing after that. Distance between them grew both physically and mentally. Doubtes started raising in both minds.Their fault was that they failed to understand eachother. Trust vanished with the distance. Tempa got frastruated and decided to move on. He cheated on her and got patched up with another girl from his college. Zangmo had still remained faithful to him despite the fact that they had fights more often. She had still felt that they can have good times together but when the reality did break out, her world fell apart. The biggest shock to her had been the news of his marriage. After few years she had met a nice man and got married. They lived their own married life happily. As fate would have it Tempa met with an accident along with his only child. The child died on the spot. Since then things had turned all against Tempa. He was hospitalized for years and then his wife left him for another man. He got laid by his employer due to his long absence.

Its the next day since he have met Samdrup. Tempa again sits near the prayer wheel chanting, "OM MANI PADME HUNG, OM MANE PADME HUNG, OM MANE PADME....".

"Agay Tempa", he hears a voice call him. He tilts his head to look for the person when he sees Samdrup coming towards him. An old woman of his age is following him. As they nears Tempa, he is awestruck to look at the woman.

"Zangmo?" he mummers to himself. Tears start welling up in his eyes as he remembers their youthful days.

"Agay, this is my angay", Samdrup introduces her to Tempa.

"We are going to the hospital for now. We will see you next time." says Zangmo and leaves. She shows no sign of recognition.

As they part their ways Tempa thinks "Does she not remember me, even on the mention of my name and seeing me?".

Zangmo holds her grandson's hand and walks away slowly. With no flashback in her head. She silently listens to Chophel talking about the incidents that happened in his school that day. The news of Tempa's marriage has left her in a coma for three years resulting in memory loss. She has lost her memory including Tempa's. Now her memories starts only from her recovery. To her, her husband is her first and only love.

Just the third BHSCE attempt and SHERDI has another topper.

 
Sherub Reldri HSS aka Yakgang

The first ever private school in the eastern part of the country. Sherub Reldri (mostly known among it's teachers and students as SHERDI and as YAKGANG among the localities) was first founded in the year 2009 with a very few numbers of teachers, a much fewer number of supporting staffs and just about a hundred plus students (only class 11 students). Located away from the busy town, the school has a very silent atmosphere with the natural beauty surrounding it. A place perfect for an educational institution. The few numbers of infrastructures that it has accommodates the small family perfectly. Harmonizing the scenery beauty of the place, the teachers and the students. As the students come from divergent societies and family backgrounds many new ideas, cultures and values come up together adding more to the daily lessons that they are taught in the classes.

Since it's very first year, the school provided all three streams of higher secondary studies (Science, Commerce and Arts). The few numbers of teachers was the result of the few number of students and the reason for the few number of students was all because it was a new school, unknown to many. As the journey towards producing able citizens started, the principal, proprietor and the teachers along with the students worked hard to achieve it's motto "GATEWAY TO FUTURE". After an year of its establishment another fresh batch of students sought admission in the school along with some CE students, increasing the numbers of both students and teachers and yet after another year the first batch of students appeared the BHSC Examination. Having students coming from different educational backgrounds, the pass percentage was low, which left the teachers disheartened. Yet they did not lose hope to prepare another batch for the same. The second batch of students appeared BHSC Examination in 2011, when a CE student topped the Arts stream from the country. Thus another huge number of students sought admission in the school owing to the good result though the pass percentage was still low. 

Last year was the third batch appearing the BHSC Examination, which was  by then a recognized school. The results left everybody shocked to know that Sherdi has yet another topper (a regular student) scoring 82.50 %, securing the third position from the Arts stream. Being a student of that same school the headline in kuensel, which read "Class XII results declared", left me over excited. Congratulations! Tshering Lhamo, you did us proud. So, Sherub Reldri H.S.S, which once was a school that most of the people were even not aware of its existence is flourishing just four years after it's foundation. 

The principal and wonderful teachers who put in all of their efforts in teaching, wishing the best for their students are the first ones, who should be credited with the achievements. The proprietor must be thanked along with our financial and moral supporters (parents, siblings and relatives). We did get a second chance for education because of the above mentioned people and we are very much grateful for that and THANK YOU for everything. And SHERDI, you have a long way to go and more of these achievements are yet to come.

The unknown four travelling the unknown route

So it was the four of us headed to an unknown destination, which everyone said is located in the south of the country south to ours.  Unknown to eachother and being together for the first time yet we decided to take this journey together, after all we were supposed to be together for five long years, which seemed like ages for us. But not it seems like the years are passing by too soon. Sitting inside a Mahindra taxi like some prisoners being taken to the jail, the questions that hit us was, when would we be back? How long would it be? These questions were left unanswered as nothing was confirmed. The journey to the train station seemed too short and time seemed to be racing. Travelling by transportation means that we have never used before; we were bored to death waiting for the train to arrive and we had a tough time trying to keep away from the beggars. When the train did arrive, we were in a rush to keep our things in order so that we can be comfortable later so much so that we did not even feel the movement of the train. We realized it only when we looked through the window to wave but then all we could see were the posts on the train station.

Two sitting on either berths facing eachother, I am very sure we looked like idiots because we did not speak a word as if we have been enemies for ages. We could not even converse not because we did not want to but because we did not know, what topic to bring up. Even when we tried to talk our conversations came to an abrupt end after a few questions and answers. It was really very uncomfortable to be sitting like that for three long days. The only guy in our group had the toughest time being the only guy. Lifting luggage, putting them on the berth, looking for platforms had to be done by him and worst of all he had no guy friend to accompany him at those tasks. He would silently climb up to the top berth and go to sleep during day time and during the night he would climb down to the lowest berth and sleep there so that we could feel safe. We had to take turns to sleep together on the same berth so that we can keep our luggage safely on the topmost berth. The next day was better, conversations seemed to have grown. Switching trains at Calcutta was the next trouble we had. Having to unload our luggage, look for the platform, wait for the train and again put back the luggage was something we really had trouble with. Feeling like bathing in sweat, we had no choice but to sit on the platform like all other passengers waiting for the train. The incidents with the coolie at Howra train station and Ap Bacteria and Aum Bacteria (we named them after something that they told us) will remain stuck with the memories of our journey. We still do laugh, when we recollect those.
Drinking water from an unknown couple especially, when they have a nagging kid, who tries to drink from the bottle time and again, would be a thing that we would never do in a foreign territory. But we ended up doing that because our silly demand that we want chilled water left us with no water. We were atleast glad enough that the couple let us drink their water otherwise thirst would have made us faint. Tasting that dish for the first time left us wondering what that white colored water was and later after some weeks we learned that it was supposed to be curd and its looked like white colored water because of excessive water and poor us, it tasted very bad. Feared gabbed our hearts when we were nearing the final station. Fearing we may miss our station and we may get transported to another station. Looking back at those days and nights, we feel proud. We did manage to get ourselves to our destination. The best part of the unknown four is that now we are good friends and our conversations never seem to be coming to an end now. Even during exam times we find ourselves talking uncontrollably.

First Day as an Intern

“It is almost 8:30 am, aren’t you going to the court today?” my sister shouted at me.

It was really very cold and I hated to get out of my warm bed but I had to go to the court. I remembered my sister telling me that the Dasho Drangpon is out of station and won’t be back till the Dzongkhag Tshechu is over. I turned to my left and slept off thinking I can go late as the other office bearers won’t mind me coming late. I completely lost track of the minutes I slept as it was cold and I dozed off again.  THUD THUD THUD…I heard a sound so faint in the room. I tried to open my eyes and opened it partially, when I saw my little nephew coming towards me. I sat upright in a rush and grabbed my cell phone to see the time. “Nine? Oh god! I am dead meat now” I screamed at myself. I should have woken up when my sister woke me but still then my instinct told me the Drangpon is not here so I can be late. I again decided to sleep some more. I was almost dozing off again when my brother who was sleeping by my side started pulling my blankets. “Let me sleep some more because I can be late today” I said but he was adamant not to listen to my plea. “Get up and get ready, you can’t be late on the first day itself even if the Drangpon is not here” saying so he kept pulling on my blankets. When I pulled back my blankets he started pushing my mattress. Poor me, I had to get up because when he pulled my blankets, the cold morning air enveloped me. I rushed to the kitchen so that I can sit by the hearth and keep myself away from the morning coldness. No sooner did I reach the kitchen, my sister entered the kitchen and asked me to wash myself up, eat breakfast and dress up.

I followed her words and did so. It was already 9:30 am, when left for the court. The way from my home till the court is all through the forest and I felt lonely and the way looked creepy with tall grasses growing in either sides of the path. Still then I managed to console myself that I will get used to all these as I have one whole month to walk all alone. The chilly wind touched my already freezing cheeks, making it worst. As for my hands, I covered them in the folds of my tego and wonju in an attempt to keep them warm but all in vain. The tego and wonju were cold too. Trying to cheer myself up I played a song on my cell phone and kept walking. The forest was silent and I was of the view that the birds are cold too and they are still sleeping in their cozy nests. The dew drops on the grasses wetted the edges of my kira inspite of me holding it up. I was nearing the court, when I met an elderly from the village nearby. “Madam, where are you headed to?” she asked me. Madam? I thought to myself but told her that I am going to the court. She asked me my village and about my family and I introduced myself as Sonam Zangmo’s younger sister. After parting with the old woman, I started my journey. Once near the court gate I took out my Rachu, slided it over my left shoulder and was entering the gate but the guard near the gate did not want me to go in. The dispatcher just came by when I was telling the guards that I am a student who is supposed to intern here. “Let her go in, she comes here every year, she is an intern” said the dispatcher to the guards as he had seen me in the court the other year. I was glad he came by otherwise I guess I must had to have shown the letter to the guards before I show it to the Drangpon. The court stood as majestically as ever and the registrar was as friendly as ever. He showed me to the Drangpon’s chamber and informed the Drangpon that an intern has come. Nervousness tingling me, I stepped into the Dragpon’s chamber, handed over the letter from the Supreme Court and stood there, if incase he had something to tell me.
“So you are an intern?” he started. The next question was about what help I can render to them? I got a little nervous and abruptly spoke out that I can do anything that I am assigned. Realized it later that I was trying to act a little more confident. What would have I done had he given me some difficult task? I thought to myself and this question made me feel lucky that the Drangpon would be out of station for a week and there was a week holiday, which means I just have the rest days of a month. He felt bad I had just a month to intern and it was a wrong timing as I would not learn anything and can’t even help them. Relieved that I actually escaped whatever work I would have been assigned I stepped out of his chamber. So it was way easier than what I thought. He accepted me as an intern and I had no work to do. Once outside his chamber, I was stuck in the way with the thought of where to head to? I choose to stay in the dispatcher’s room where not many people visited. Getting a little nervous as of what the dispatcher would think of me when I enter his room, I headed towards it and there he was sitting in the round chair looking at the computer screen. I stepped in and he offered me a seat nearby the heater. I was glad he was friendly and did not mind me being there. “So you are interning this year too?” he asked me, to which I answered by nodding my head. I was getting so bored sitting there idle, staring at the wall clock and wishing it was lunch break so that I can have a little time all to myself and decide whether to bunk or not? Finally it was lunch break, people started leaving for lunch and the bench clerks invited me to have lunch with them at the canteen on the ground floor. I wasn’t feeling comfortable so I decided to stay back and miss lunch and it wasn’t a big deal to miss it as I wasn’t hungry. I was left all alone in the chamber. I waited for another fifteen minutes and then picked up my bag and called my sister. She wanted me to come home as she and brother were having a hard time preparing for the next day. I told her I can’t come as the Drangpon was there and it would not be appropriate to be bunking on the first day itself but still then I put my bag over my shoulder and left the court.
It was the first day of my internship and I was leaving before the office hours were over. Still then I was confident that the Drangpon will not notice my absence. I should not have thought so because I was caught the next day but I got lucky enough. The Drangpon was in a good mood and I escaped the scolding. The first day of internship was over and from the next day I was punctual and helped the chief clerk. I am still doing so. After all I may not get lucky enough the next time and I can’t take another risk.

The forsaken gods

As I stepped into the cold area, shivers ran down my spine. Hollow yet expecting pairs of eyes were gazing upon me from within the sunken eye sockets. I could hear moans and groans from everywhere corner of the room. A faint cough reached my ears from the extreme corner and when my eyes sought for the owner of the voice, there she was, weak and frail, her skin sticking to her bones and she looked like a corpse. Barely moving even while she coughed. Someone right near the door called unto me and all I could do was to turn around and give a smile. I tried hard, indeed very hard to keep a cheerful smile on my face even while I felt like breaking into tears. Thin bodies covered in dirty pieces of clothes were leaning on the bed inside the makeshift house. They looked like skeletons laid down in a biology lab. The sight was really disturbing.

What was once considered as an unimaginable action and sin even to think about has now become a harsh reality. More and more people think of and many opt to dump their aged parents so that they can have no burden on themselves. People think it is the best possible way to do so, so the couples can carry on with their careers.  It is justified that the presence of an old parent at home is too much trouble for the children, bringing friends at home is embarrassing, they need to be tended to when they are sick, vacations are out of questions and there is no room for privacy. But all these justifications fall flat when we realize that the old parents called as problems are the very people who took care of the children whenever they fell sick. They gave up their favourites for their children's expenditure. They sacrificed outings, friends and vacations only for the sake of the children. They did not talk about not having privacy whenever they were in need of their parents. And when the parents grow old and the children start having their own family, they pay back their family by dumping them.
With the busy schedules of the children, all material requirements might be well provided but surely the vacuum of love and affection that only a family can provide is still there. The anticipations and expectation that a parent has from their children are never met. An indifferent institution seems a better option than bitter nostalgia and loneliness at home. But, it doesn't replace the warmth of a real home filled with the presence of one’s kith and kin.
On the other side, there is no denying the fact that some cynical elderly parents have spoiled the lives of their adult children. Many marriages have been destroyed due to the constant interference of these people. Still, dumping them is not and cannot be a permanent solution. Slogging away at work or even enjoying life to the hilt isn't really worth it at the cost of losing one's parents. We are what we are today because of them. Of course, not all possess a generous heart, great patience or even remember their duties when it comes to taking care of old parents. That is the harsh reality in the modern world.

The scene at a busy junction

It was already 2:30 pm when I and my friends after having much trouble locating places in the busy streets, reached to a mall just around the corner of the road which lead to a four way junction. The day was sunny and hot, beads of sweat formed on my forehead even as I travelled in an auto (which usually isn't very comfortable when it is five people sitting in one). My friends had some shopping to do while I chose to be left outside as I feel more comfortable being outside those tall buildings rather than feeling lost in those big rooms full of commercial materials. With my earphones in my ears and a Bhutanese music playing on full volume, I decided to look around as it would be sometime, when my friends will be done with their shopping.

As I stood there watching, people rich and poor, old and young, huge and small, were busy doing one thing or the other and some were rushing to their own destinations. Everybody seemed to be engaged in their own work and the street was too noisy as usual with the hooting and tooting of the vehicles trying to find their own way through the crowded traffic on the road (roads usually wide but so many vehicles on it) and in the midst of all those noise, the traffic and the people my eyes landed on a thin frail man dressed in a brown khaki pant and white collared shirt (which had turned almost grey owing to the dust and the sweat he shed due to the burning sun and the rising temperature) with a dark pair of shades resting on his nose, protecting his eyes from the bright sunlight and a mouth mask (that too white in color, which had turned grey) covering half of his face.
The man would not be given a second thought by most of the people who had passed that junction from where they passed safely. As I stood watching him, I saw his lunch box lying on the small chair under the small canopy like structure, where he is meant to rest while his fellow mate took over the responsibility of guiding the traffic so as to avoid collision (as it is the work of the traffic police), the sun had already slanted towards the west and his lunch box was still unopened. He was giving his best to provide his best service to both the pedestrians and the drivers running to and fro. People seemed in a hurry and so they rather blew the horn than patiently waiting for the other vehicles to pass by. I was watching him showing signs to the drivers indicating them to stop and to move along with his hands, when many thoughts popped up into my mind. I wondered how well he was respected at home by his children owing to his petty job? Questions like, how his children would react if they happened to pass that junction? What comment would a ruthless relative pass onto him? What would happen to the whole traffic if he went missing all of a sudden? And would the government help his family if something happened to him there? Kept coming into my mind no matter how I tried to avoid looking at him.
As I was trying to figure out the answers to my questions my friends came out of the mall, as they were done with their shopping we decided to go around. While we got into an auto again and started our journey to yet another place he was still doing his job.  With the happy chattering of my friends over the excitement of branded things they just purchased the scene of the policeman slowly vanished from my mind but the questions always remained stuck in there.

hi there

This is the first ever article I am trying to write in this blog of mine. I may not meet the standards of a blogger and I ain't a wonderful writer  with good writing skills nor am I a keenly interested writer. I write when I feel like and I completely forget the idea of writing sometimes. I write only when I come along something which, I think I want to write about (just my perception,  don't get me wrong), yet I am hoping to do my best to keep my blog updated and post beautiful things in here so that anyone visiting will have  a good time reading the articles. I always thought of maintaining a blog since I joined college but a chance to really get practical just happened to pass by a few weeks ago and the reason why I joined the blog is still a secret of mine and please don't ask me why, just kidding. I thought it must be fun to have one's own blog alongside reading the blog posts of those awesome writers (I came across many of them, so I don't remember their blog addresses, now i sound rude..:P), that was one inspiration, which dragged me into this blogging world.

Maintaining a diary is way too troublesome for me, especially when, I have to carry it with me to places I go and I am a forgetful person, I even forget to carry my toothbrush with me when I move out of my place, so it doesn't suit me to maintain a diary. And yes. not to forget, I am a lazy bones too. So, a blog page will do me good. Everyday update may not be possible yet I may visit it once in awhile (I am not sure about how long that AWHILE will be though...:D). Looking forward to putting up a great pile of stuffs though they may not be so much fun to read. Ehhhh ..I am already running out of words and now I am starting to wonder how I will be able to update my blog...:P. Anyway, happy reading guys...:).

Regards
Pelmo