In Chaotic State, They Wept.

image source: google images

The doors, it remained closed and the locks are prone to rust,

The floor, it’s un-swept for long and is full of dust,

The roof, as and when shower tatters, it will seep,

And the bells, like the dumped rod of iron, it produce no beep.

Like the abandoned church of ancient realm, the buildings are at rest

With scattered litters all around, it is not the best,

Neither in its form, nor in the possessions of its wealth

The Lord shall weep, for worthless it became what he bequeath.

To the authorities, they approach time and again,

Requesting for the needs that they aspire, but in vain,

Duty, dedication and devotion, are words with no meaning,

As calm and cozily they sit and chat, morning till evening.

“Democracy,” the word reverberate from walls, as it’s their ill perception,

And with these echo, the winds carry the fouls of corruption.

From the footprints they left, it produce an intoxicating stink,

But in these filthy environs, the option-less innocents sink.

“What wrong did we do? Where and how?” The innocents ask.

The questions remain unanswered, and so is their request.

In God’s mercy, they leave their life, though liable to blight,

And in chaotic state, they wept day and night.

P.S Democracy should not be diluted with the poisons of corruption. Else, the poor will remain poor and riches will grow richer. The innocents will suffer and the higher authorities will rejoice. 

My Memories of Bajothang HSS.

When I joined Bajothang Higher Secondary School in 2006, it was my first exposure to sub-urban way of living. My previous schools were located in the remotes of Wangdue Dzongkhag and as such, whatever I learned was totally confined to the pages of books. There were no access to internet facilities, no television to see the happenings around the world and brethren, and in some cases not even electricity to light our ways. Days were always gloomy. In times we ate our dinner beneath the roofs of kitchen, with splattering of raindrops in darkness, I prepared for examinations with the sooty flames of candle light but it was the way of life. My school days until I reached class eleven, were impounded by the age-old tradition of learning. 

Serenity of Bajothang HSS with Punatsangchu bellow.

Having completed my class ten boards from Gaselo Middle Secondary School with good mark, I was more than happy to join Bajo for my eleventh grade in science stream. I always longed to swim along the tides of Punatsangchu, I aspired to extract the knowledge about the recent global trends of development and modernization, I dreamed of watching the outer sphere of Bhutan with my own eyes on the screens of Television, and what not I even dreamed of hanging along the banks of Punatsangchu with a stunning city girl. And as time passed by some dreams were fulfilled while others remained as dreary dreams as of now.

After spending two years successfully, I looked back and assessed whether I have done something fruitful or not. Then I realized that I have learned a lot from there. Academics were my priority ever since my childhood days in pre-primary and I am glad that I have grasped the ultimate knowledge from the revered teachers with my best ability. Living life by one’s own principle and philosophy makes one complete. “Slow and Steady Wins the Race” is the adage, which I follow and by the time sessions comes to an end, I find myself leading the entire folk which is something more than I expected. 

Days were strenuous as well as hideous in times. Being the only high school near the District Administration, and having good facilities for telecommunication, many activities happens on the other end simultaneously with the academics in class, which were in times source of distraction. 

My second year in Bajothang was indeed more challenging and exciting. Having to prepare myself for the BHSEC academically, I was assigned with an additional role of office bearer. This made my days challenging. When the fellow classmates were busy studying by the cranny of campus, the office bearers cannot completely deny their duty. It was indeed the trust and faith bestowed upon us by the entire school so it becomes an utmost duty that we have to render for the benefit of school. 

With special duty comes the special opportunity so I was indeed fortunate to have assigned with such duty. I had a wonderful cultural tour to Paro with the fellow captains, where we visited all the sacred Buddhist places. From the ruins of Drugyal Dzong to antiques of Taa Dzong, from caves of Flying Tiger to strips of nations Flying Drukair, from the ancient monastery of Kyichu to the seat of Drubthob Chakzampa, those were the unforgettable memories created during my stay in Bajothang, which I will cherish forever. 

Besides, I were one of the few who always got an opportunity to accompany the foreign visitors. Trekking to the valley of Black Necked Crane in the spring with Canadian students, it was a great exposure for me. With that chance, not only I got to interact with the foreigner and learned from them their customs but also I experienced the joy of trekking in the mud-ridden paths, enjoying the serenity of natural forests. Of course my participation during a week-long ‘Photo Class’ held in our school, organized by the Asian-Pacific Centre of Education for International Understanding was more mesmerizing. 

I never failed in my duties and yet I never ignored my studies. When the year finally ended, it was a moment of great joy and satisfaction. The school conferred me with the most prestigious award, “The Best Boy Student of The Year.” It was indeed a reward for my sincere and dedicated contribution to the school with my best ability. When the examinations results were declared in February 2008, I was deeply overwhelmed with ecstasy and jubilation. My marks were worthy enough to grasp a slot for scholarship that our government offers. These were the accomplishments, which I achieved from Bajothang. Those two years were the one of the most fruitful moments in my life.

But the recent disaster that shook my old school really doomed me down. I was shocked at first, and then deeply saddened, and finally to lament over the fateful incident that it has encountered, but all in vain. There is nothing I could do from here. The floods of Punatsangchu erodes the boundary of school every summer but it never quivered its base, the strong winds furl the dust of ground every evening but it never shook the roofs of my school. Unfortunately on the fateful night of 22nd February 2011, from the fierce flames from tiny flickers, It couldn't withstand its firmness when fire razed the administration block to ashes within hours, the long achieved accomplishments and deeds from the time of inception  in 1997.

I sincerely pray for its quick recovery. With the fire, everything has gone but memories imprinted by the school in us will remain forever. Wishing a new beginning and successful progress ahead, My Dear School. 

Image source: Bajo Higher Secondary School's Photos

A Tribute to My King



His Majesty the Fifth King.

When the chilly winter gave its way to the warmth of spring sun

When the season of aridity was replaced by season of humidity

When the leafless trees gave new flush of vigorous buds

When the days of emptiness changed to days of work fullness,

Like the new dawn clearing the days of gloominess

Like the silver moon paving its ways amid dark clouds

Like the golden ray of morning sun striking the soil of doomed land

Like the rivers of bountiful draining the land of poverty,

A boy was born, a noble birth in the spring of 1980.

A fulfilled-wish for the royal family, and the heir to the golden throne,

Hope for the rising nation, and joy in the heart of Bhutanese.

Lucky are we Bhutanese, having blessed with such a gracious king.

By birth he is human but by deed, he is divine

His home, a tiny wooden cottage amid the chir forest

Yet referring it the “Palace of Great bliss,” and his passion,

Meeting the people of all walks of life, during periods best and worst.

With profound wisdom and boundless compassion,

His only worry is for his nation and the people

Rendering selfless service day and night, near and far,

He is source of inspiration for us, towards service of Tsa-Wa-Sum.

Fortunate are we Bhutanese, having been blesses with such a benevolent king.

For the limitless care and love that you showered us,

And for the guidance and paths that you have directed us.

For the light you have lightened in our soul, and for everything,

That changed our lives; we salute you, our beloved king.



On the auspicious and joyous occasion of your birth day,

I joins the fellow citizens in celebrating the momentous day.

With solemn dedication and heartfelt gratitude,

We pray for His Majesty’s continued good health and long life.

Long Live His Majesty The Fifth King of Bhutan, Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.

May the sun of peace and prosperity shine on the soil of Druk Yul till eternity.

image source: bhutan-360.com

Alone! I am Not.

Living in   a room bounded by four walls of lustrous white, the radiations of sun never penetrated the opaque wall and reached the leaf of my gloomy life. Without the sunlight, there is no photosynthesis so the entire physiology of life is disturbed. The leaf is prone to wither but no worry, my room has two windows, through which I can see the bright sun illuminating the entire world. I am satisfied now. At least the world will be lush and vigorous.  The windows show me the entire world; it is an eye opener to me, my best companion so I am not alone.

sources of image: google

When the world of fantasy struck the static mind, myriad of awful thoughts conquers my conscience thus bequeathing me with unbearable mental torture. It is pain of loneliness, so I curse my gadgets like mobile phone and computer (Internet) for not giving me company, as it remains so silent. My body temperature rises and in state of chaos, I suffocate, but then there is the ceiling fan, my best friend, spinning silently yet swiftly, thus ventilating my room, and supplying gush of fresh air from the nearby lawn, for my respiration. Therefore, I am not alone.

Behind the hills and mountains, miles of distance away live my beloved parents. In different colleges are my best friends, but here I am alone. All alone bounded by the four walls. The paths that I follow though I consider it the right one, sometimes lead me to the wrong direction. My parents and friends are helpless as they are not aware of my deeds. I have nobody to correct me instantly so that I can retrace to the right direction, however, looking on the wall of my room, I see the mirror. It reflects my deeds and I could see the defects and shortcomings, which I have. Oh, mirror though in times it compel me to shed tears, but it is never wrong. I have my best teacher by the walls of my room so I am not alone.

The winters are extremely cold and arid environment gives no charm. I call it the season of emptiness when cold flood my desperate soul. My heart receives no warmth of love and affection, though below the roof, behind the monitors, beneath the sky, I have my beloved parents and affectionate friends. Distance is the bar, yet I miss the warmth by hearth at home and tenderness of their hearts.  But I have the cozy mattress beneath me, with my head on the silky pillow, I get myself enveloped within the cotton blanket that keep me warm and contented, so I am not alone.

When in darkness the moon light does not reach my room I longed for the torches my parents lit for me, but now, I have none. The fire flickers of highland pines though sooty, use to light our way back at home but I miss it here. However, with the pressing of switch by the wall, I have the fluorescent tube, blinking to pave my ways. Therefore, I am not in the darkness. The dreary journey is lightened, and I am glad to have it as my friend. Therefore, I am not alone.

Yet, loneliness really kills in times.

Let strikes never strike Bhutan

‘Indefinite strike in the neighboring town of Jaigoan left many passengers stranded, business halt and lots of problems are created to the residents.’ Though not the correct quotation, I read several such stories in Kuenselonline. Few years ago, when I hear that there is a strike going on, I used to wonder why such thing called strike was happening and when it happened, why the roads are blocked and the daily routines of the people are shattered. Now having seen the demonstrations and having heard the voices of the demonstrators, I got my answers. The answer in one word is democracy.

operachic.typepad.com

It is the principle of democracy, which gives its people the human right. With this human right comes the fundamental freedom, and these entitlements are in turn derived from the basic human needs and other wants. The rights are diverse, there are social and cultural rights, there are civil and political rights, there are economic rights and there are rights to petition and rights to express one’s opinions that we call the freedom of speech. So, in the society or community when these rights go in contrary with each other, the social disharmony occurs and when the government fails to settle it on time, the political and social crisis occur, which we call strike. While in corporations, and educational institutions when the right and fundamental needs of the respective section of occupants, (be it employers, be it employees, be it students, be it teachers,) strike happens. They use their rights to express their opinion, but when the higher authorities fail to settle it, the former set up demonstrations and raise their voices, causing disorder and violence in the institution, thus leading to strike.

In Bhutan, democracy is young. Rather it is at its infancy, and the political system is not corrupt. The government has always remained transparent with the opposition party reminding the government whenever the latter tend to divert. Needs of people are either resolved by the government on time or they promise to resolve it at the earliest possible. Besides, we have our generous, compassionate, selfless Kings, whose only worry is about the well-being of their kingdom and the people, and who present themselves during the worst of adversities, and odds of hours, comforting people. Therefore, we Bhutanese are lucky to be born on the soil of Drukyul.

People live in social harmony, the peasants have respect to their governments, the aristocrats and bureaucrats in turn have love, care for the people, and dedicate their services well. The value so called ‘Tha Damtse,’ the collective meaning for various values such as loyalty, gratitude, and unity, and ‘Lay-Jumdrel,’ the consequences of our thoughts and actions, which are deep-rooted in the soul of Bhutanese citizens, have always played a vital role in social harmony. Lucky are our Bhutanese students, where they get uninterrupted flow of wisdom from the revered teachers and professors, who dedicate their service for the well being of the nation wholeheartedly.

Therefore, let us pray that such unique identities of our “One Nation, One People” be never lost from the soil of Bhutan. Besides, it is the duty of every citizen to play a vital role in maintaining a vibrant and transparent democracy by using our freedoms in the most judicious manner. May peace, prosperity and tranquility prevail until eternity and the term ‘Strike’ shall always remain foreign to Bhutan. Let strikes never befall on beguiling Bhutan.

PS: Heartfelt thanks to WAB administration for suggesting a good  title for this post. It was initially "Let strikes never Befall on Beguiling Bhutan.". This is written when the month long strike completely got called off yesterday in the University where I am studying.

The Curse of Temptation-

This is simply The Translation of My Dzongkha Post, which I posted two days ago.

google images

Born in the ephemeral world of suffering,

An Insensible life is lived by coward me,

With an untamed soul in the deadly body,

It lingered towards the paths of illusion.

Though unseen are the ones behind hills and vales,

Yet their soothing words deceived my fragile heart.

Doubtless I was, I conversed the truth with no qualm,

But alas, it bequeathed me with regretful pains.

The defective mind, free of fallacy,

It headed towards the fruits in serpents realm,

When its pain, the medicines couldn’t cure, then

In woes, I wept with wounded wits.

The inner self of mine, I make clear as crystalline glass,

The thought of mine, I expressed with flawless frank,

But with senseless beast on the other end,

She laughed my innocent life with mockery.

In the boundless oceans, with extreme depth,

The fishes fly with fearless flap.

Yet with tempt they trapped in tyrants net,

It shall succumb to death with no mercy.

With awaken thoughts; I gazed, but then,

My mind like the fluffy feather in hasty breeze,

 It toured the wildest of universe, and my soul,

It drenched into thirst of temptation,

Thus, I was immersed into ocean of suffering.

Now with the mind rejuvenated with wisest wisdom,

I shall retrace the path towards perfection.

PS: Nothing emotional, yet sensational.

Saraswati Puja- A Ritualistic Celebration of Birth of Saraswati, The Hindu Goddess of Wisdom

When the world was first created by Lord Brahma, there was chaos.  Everything existed in an amorphous form, fluid state, and in state of confusion. The whole lot was formless and shrouded in ignorance. Brahma was startled and didn’t know how to restore its order.  But then like a dawn of awareness, that dispel the darkness of ignorance with luminous rays of perception, goddess Saraswati appeared in front of him and said, “Knowledge helps man find possibilities where once he saw problems.” As Lord Brahma heard the word wisdom, he acquired the ability to sense, think, comprehend and communicate. He then gained potential to clear the chaos and he discovered the melody of mantras in the cacophony of chaos. The sound of mantras filled the universe with vital energy.  Things began to take shape and the cosmos acquired a structure: the sky dotted with stars rose to form the heavens; the sea sank into the abyss below, the earth stood in between. Therefore, he named Saraswati as Goddess of Wisdom; though latter, he got infatuated towards her but only to get himself cursed. That is what the Hindu mythology says

google images

 Saraswati Puja is observed on the fifth day after the no moon night in the Hindu month of Magh. It is believed that of Goddess Saraswati was born on this day. All the Hindu devotees in general and, students & children in particular celebrate it luxuriously and generously particular in India.

 I already experienced two such celebrations and it was third occasion this year. In our college, it is the students, who initiated and coordinated the programmes and proceedings.  They collected money from others, contributed themselves, got donation from the businessperson, the professors, the day labours, their seniors and what not even from beggars if they wish to spare their single penny in name of God. This time the day falls on 8^th February but preparations were done the day before. One thing is peculiar here. They do everything at the eleventh hour, and so did this time. They erected a post for stretching the temple; they decorated the gates and surroundings. They have already bought the statue and it was installed in the temporary but well decorated temple. Everything was decorated with lights and colour, an enthralling culture and tradition of India, so when I was back from the gate after taking a tea, I found our hostel amid lights. They contributed relentless efforts and slept no night. There was nothing I could do and indeed, fellow students were generous enough to deprive us from work, but the night was not peaceful for sleeping.

 So came February 8^th. The students gathered by the temple. Professors were invited and finally, when the priest came at 11:00am, it was already time for commencing the religious chants and prayers. When it was done, Prasadi (a combination of sweets, fruits etc..., which they prepare and consider sacred) were distributed among the invited guests and other visitors. Folks poured in hundreds. They visited the temple prayed to the Goddess and left. I too visited the temple, viewed the statue with concentration. ‘God have a universal language. Gods are all same. Only difference is they exhibit in different form and style.’ This was my notion. As dusk doomed the day, the lights of different colours illuminated the entire surrounding. Gradually the soothing melodies of religious chant shifted to irksome Bollywood songs, which latter was replaced by the local Bhojpuri/Nagpuri. The student then joined their hands and rocked the open stage with their rhythmic local choreograph. In some ways, it resembles the Bhutanese Folk dance, and getting along with them gave me a homely feel.

Then came 9^th February. Indeed, it was day of destruction from my point of view. They invested a huge amount in buying the statue (costing more than Rs. 10,000). The decorative items were expensive but as the evening approach, papers reached every corner, the plastics flew like kites in air, and the campus got totally messed up with litter. If they have a courtesy to collect the decorative items and make use during other occasions, it would mean an economic use, but forget it, India is not a poor country after all. The absurdity lies here now. The statue instead of placing somewhere permanently, it was loaded in a farm tractor, and like a parade, with students singing and dancing, they take it all the way to the nearby stagnant pond. Then to the Goddess, they paid homage, they expressed their gratitude, they prayed for more wisdom, and seek blessings, but finally the statue was immersed into that same pond where the local sewage pours, where the pigs swim, where the kids defecate, thus in the muddy pond, the Goddess of Wisdom sunk.

 It was 10:00pm when I nearly finished this short description. Unlike the previous nights and other normal nights, I felt a sensation of complete peace. So silent it was, without any noise from the nearby locality as well. It seems that the fellow students were slept as well due to their tireless efforts. I walked out of my room to the roof of my hostel. I stared up in the sky. The crescent moon was on its way to the other world, and the twinkling stars dominated the entire sky. Amidst the stars, I could visualize my God of Wisdom, Jetsun Jampel Yang (Manjushri) and Goddess of Wisdom, Yanchen Lhamo. I then closed my eyes, folded my hand and prayed that all sentient beings be free from ignorance and illusion, that they be blessed with limitless wisdom so that when the sun rise and set, when moon wax and wane, when waves flow and ebb, man shall utilize its wisdom for the welfare of all beings.

Curse of Temptation

སེམས༌འཛོལ༌བའི༌ཡུལ༌ལུ༌ཆགས༌པའི༌ན༌ཟུག།།

ས་འཇིག་རྟེན་འཁོར་བའི་འཛམ་གླིང་ནང་།།

སྐྱེཝ་ཕོ་ལུས་ཐོབ་རུང་བློ་ཆུང་སྟེ།།

སེམས་རང་སེམས་རང་གིས་མ་བཟུང་ན།།

རྐྱེན་ངན་པའི་ཕྱོགས་སུ་གཡོ་ནི་འདུག།།

བལྟཝ་མིག་གིས་མཐོང་ས་མེད་རུང་རང་།།

བློའོ་ཧན་པའི་ཚིག་གི་ལྷུ་ནི་འདུག།།

རང་ཐེ་ཚོམ་མེད་པ་བདེན་གཏམ་བཤད།།

འཇུག་བློ་འགྱོད་བསྐྱལ་བའི་གཞི་རང་མས།།

སེམས་རྣམ་རྟོག་མེད་པའི་སྐྱོན་གྱི་འབད།།

བྲོ་ཞིམ་པ་སྨན་གྱི་འདུ་ཤེས་བསྐྱེད།།

ད་ལན་ཅིག་གཟུགས་ལུ་གནོད་པའི་ཚེ།།

དུག་ཨིན་པ་ བློ་འགྱོད་ཧིང་ལས་བསྐྱེད།།

གཟུགས་ཤེལ་དཀར་དམ་སྦྱིས་བཟུམ་བཟོ་ཏེ།།

གཏམ་ཐྲང་གཏམ་གཞན་ལུ་སླབ་ཅི་ང་།།

རོགས་མནོ་ནི་མེད་པའི་དོན་ཧིང་གིས།།

ངིའི་མི་ཚེ་མེས་མེད་བཅོས་ད་ཡི།།

ཏིང་ཟབ་པའི་རྒྱ་མཚོ་ཆེན་པོའི་ནང་།།

རོགས་གསེར་མའི་ཉ་མོ་ལས་ཀྱི་འཁོར།།

ཨའེ་ཉ་པོའི་ལྕགས་ལུ་ཟུན་པའི་ཚེ།།

རོགས་ཉིང་རྗེ་མེད་པར་སྲོག་དང་འབྲལ།།

སེམས་བསམ་ལོགས་གཏང་སྟེ་བལྟ་སོང་པ།།

སེམས་བྱ་སྒྲོ་རླུང་ལུ་བསྐྱལ་ཚར་ནུག།།

དུས་ལན་ཅིག་སྡུག་བསྔལ་མྱོང་ཡོད་རུང་།།

འཇུག་ཤུལ་མ་ཕན་པའི་ཡོན་ཏན་མས།།

སེམས་དྲན་པ་ཐེབས་ཅིག་སྟོན་འདི་གི།།

ལམ་བཟང་པའི་ཕྱོགས་སུ་བརྩོན་དགོ་པས།།      ༑༑

google images

Be Prepared.

While during my primary school days, I once joined scouting club. Scouting is a club in school where the member students dedicate themselves for the service of fellow students, school, and in turn for the nation, though its founder Lord Robert Baden-Powell, Lieutenant General in the British Army in 1907 dedicated the service professionally for supporting young people in their physical, mental and spiritual development, so that they may play constructive roles in society. but in my school, duty of scouts mean simply hoisting the national flag in every morning, singing and dancing patriotic songs every Wednesday and expecting a camping and expeditions some other days. I found our scout club doing nothing momentous; it might be different in other schools, though. Only memorizing the scout laws and bluffing in front of the scout master seems to be an insignificant significance. Besides the scout law and other such obligations, I could still remember the scout motto, “Be Prepared” but somehow preparedness becomes an ingredient which my life lacks.

source- google

On Saturdays we don’t have classes and sleeping late on Saturday evening is my habit because at least on Sundays we need not have to go for morning PT classes. I spent the time either watching a movie, gossiping with the fellow students, playing video games or surfing net and facebooking.  So did me, during the last Saturday night. By the time when I went for sleep it was already 2:00 am. And that would mean I would be awake only by nine in the morning. 

But in the morning when I woke up the time was sticking towards ten. I woke up, took a shower and then rushed to the dining room for taking breakfast but to my utter disgust, the cook has not prepared the breakfast. But this is something which is not uncommon. They always take their own time for cooking and in times they offer breakfast as late as eleven, when the timing says it should be ready by eight thirty or nine. It is the problem for all the students residing in the hostel though, yet they never raise their voices and it remains a problem unsolved throughout the year. The hostel prefect and mess managers remain idle and, got a chance they would be looking for a way of embezzling a small sum from the mess account for taking a cup of tea or inhaling a puff of cigarette, establishing their base of corruption and disloyalty. So there is no point for me yelling at the cook, which if otherwise I do would only smash up their attitude and thinking towards me, and the net effect would remain still null. But I am prepared for such minute trouble. I have my own rice cooker in my room in which I can prepare noodles and have it.

It was eleven when I was done with my breakfast. My laptop, mobile phone and spacious room have always been an obstacle for me in concentrating my mind on studies. I was e-buddying on my phone when I received a call from a professor. He was calling us to be present within a couple of minutes in the college for giving our practical exams. I was surprised. Exams are no joke. And practical exam accounts 25% of the entire hundred, depriving to get 15 means a failure and having to repeat the same after a year. ‘Has he gone mad?’ He never said anything about conducting such practical. But poor guys like us have no alternative but to go to the college, and face the challenge on Sunday. Isn’t it funny when the environment student forgets the one line definition of ‘Environment’ and misinterprets precipitation exclusively as rain? Good luck does not help with unprepared opportunity.

Well we should have at least a small degree of preparedness for everything. Be it the minute things like receiving a call from an unknown person having miss-dialed the number, receiving an e-mail from stranger stating “I am interested in your profile,” a handkerchief in pocket to wipe away the unexpected drop from flying bird in crowd, a noodles for filling the stomach if not except it with patience, and of course facing the unexpected surprise tests in school/colleges for we are designated with the task exclusively for studying. An unspectacular preparation would bring us a spectacular result. Be prepared!