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Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Season of Hopefulness


softpedia.com

From the depth of vales the clouds rise
Reaching the higher sky, it collides
Producing a flash of light, then a thunderous roar.

Down in the valley the Peasants wait
For the first spring shower. And as the rain falls,
It cleanses all the dirt left by the gloomy winter.

In fields the farmers toil, with spade and shovel,
While in school the students slog with sheets and pen,
To harvest the fruits when the year ends.

As humid replaces aridness, the grasses pierce
From the barren lawn. The trees sprout lush of leaves,
 On the temperate hills, blooms the beauty of rhododendrons.

The Cranes, they fly back to the northern plateaus,
To escape the rising heat of lengthy days,
 Leaving behind, the echoes of their melodious tweets.

With favorable weather, the birds fly higher
 And in rivers the fishes swim swifter. Breathing the fresh air
 Of newborn shoots, nature itself is inspirational.

Gone are the days of parchedness and gloominess,
With spring comes aspiration, so let heart grow tenderer
To reap proportionate warmth latter,
 for it is the season of hopefulness.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Missing Home with the Tunes of Romantic Lyric

The past two weeks has been very hectic and tiresome. The much-delayed external exams of my semester finally started beginning this month. With a total of nine courses spread over 21 credit hours per week, we have lots to study for the exam. In the semester of five months, resting almost more than four months idly, spending sleepless nights and relentless efforts at the last minute brought no peace in mind, but it only exacerbated the pressure in my brain and strain and pain to the tiny muscles of eyes. I burnt the mid night oil to trace the light at the other end the next day and as days passed by, the exams were finally over. While in some subjects I did very well, others dragged me down to the mere cross mark of failure but I should be optimistic that I would not fail. Nevertheless, it is all over but the results are waited. 

I am not a music freak but I do listen as and when I feel like listening. My room has been a total mess with grubby cloths heaped like a junk of clutter in the cupboard. My study table was disorganized with sheets of paper and books scattered everywhere, and the dustbin behind the door was no less than an urban litterbin that is filled every now and then. As exams were over, I was to bring my room back to order so I swept the floor, cleaned the tables, planned to wash the cloths the next day, and emptied the bin. Gone are the days of dust and grim and so are the thoughts of untamed soul. It’s getting warmer as the first shower of the season has already cleansed the parchedness and dirt. Therefore, under the fan I laid on my bed and started listening to shuffled list of modern Bhutanese songs. 

As the comforting music from the feature film ‘Sem Gawai Tasha’ flowed on uniformly, it brought a relishing feeling in my mind but as the lyrical tune flow on, it brought the romantic scene of Kelley Dorji and Tsokey Tshomo Karchung vividly in my mind. But I am not taken by such thoughts, rather I longed to reach home and share the warmth of love and care with my beloved parents.
“..Yar nam khai Karsel Dawa,
Ma Chhu ye Ser Mai Nyamo,
Pha Gang ge Etho Meto tsu.
Nge me khar tsar ray thom dha,
Nge sem khar tsar ray charw dha,
Choe Chery tang may moo..,” and so flows the tune of lyrics.

I stood up from my bed and stared through the window. Up in the azure sky, just near the sinking boundaries of the heaven I saw the falcate moon in its waxing phase. In its shining crescent face, I could visualize the reflections of my tiny hamlet on the hills facing the early morning sun rays, adorned by pines and junipers.
Rhododendron arborescens
The swift flowing Nikka Chhu below my village drains the valley with profuse fertility.  The river is as clear as crystalline glass because the northern peaks are still so pristine and monsoon far beyond the rolling clouds.  So in this fresh water, the fish fly with fearless flap and rejoice without any tension of the hungry otters and greedy fishermen. 
By the opposite hills facing my village are the woods of different species, more temperate and more delicate yet never fragile as the trees in stinking towns.  Amid the pines and oaks, the rhododendrons of different species blossom with the shower of spring’s rain; it  adds an enthralling beauteous look to my tiny hamlet.
As such images evoked my thoughts time and again I was deeply perturbed and started missing my home madly. I started missing my gracious parents and loveable village kids, the encouraging village folks and of course my once classmates, who had to leave the school to serve their ageing parents by toiling the days with shovel and spade instead of pen and paper. I am lucky to be the youngest of all in my family, which is one reason why I got an opportunity to study. 
However, I do not have any reason to miss either a highland lass, or a dazzling urban damsel because love unless reciprocated equally and proportionately does not have a potential to keep lovers alive, unlike in the soothing music of the emotional lyrical chant. 

The winds from the south, it did not pause for a moment here to take my message to my beloved mom. Similarly, the river which came passing by my village to reach the Indian plains, it is too busy to halt for a minute there to bring the message of love and care which my parents intended to convey to me. But with springs of rising hope, I shall grow the lush of patience to stay here until I get myself capable of paying my gratitude in words and kind to my parents, though I miss my home and parents desperately. 

Image source:  google images, The rhododendron arborescens is the most common one in my village as well as in Bhutan.

Thursday, 10 March 2011

The Beauty of Nature’s Tunes

Already shared on WAB on 12-12-2010.

Image: google images

All alone, I travelled in the midst of woods,
Sal and Teak and Cypress; they grew at their best.
Beneath the branches, I walked with my dusty boots,
In search of nothing, but never ending quest.

Deep moisture laden mosses on drooping branches,
Lichens and fungus, they matured from fissured cracks.
Array of golden rays penetrated beyond its reaches,
And in numbness of euphoria, I lost my tracks.

The hedges and sedges, they were in variety,
With crystal clear dews on their shining leaf.
In a burrow was a rodent, hiding from adversity,
But swiftly it ran, sighting me approach its tiny cave.

Deeper into its core was the abode of god,
Adorned with enthralling bouquet and vines.
Emitting fragrance with intoxicating upshot,
As strong as the best brewed wines.

Further deeper, the nature tuned its finest note,
The twittering of birds and whisper of gentle breeze,
The fluttering of leaves in rhythmic note,
And the soothing music of stream, which never cease.

In you, I discovered my unknown quest,
The ecstasy of my soul; with bliss ceasing never,
Amidst your serenity, the tranquil rest.
Oh nature! Your ethereal beauty is joy forever.


Sunday, 27 February 2011

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. 

Friday, 25 February 2011

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. 



Sunday, 20 February 2011

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

Friday, 18 February 2011

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.

Sunday, 13 February 2011

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.

Friday, 11 February 2011

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.