Thursday, July 17, 2014

Some Tiny Flowers i found on the way to the east of Bhutan...though i dont know the names of any....

Monday, June 23, 2014

The Gone Hopes




The hopes have crossed the arch
The party has begun the work
The foxes have occupied the seat on the perch

Through the golden field did they march
As the people knew, did they lurk
The hopes have crossed the arch

They have now, oiled with starch
And seemingly seem to be a berk
The foxes have occupied the seat on the perch

The hungry beasts gorge
On the assembly seat, they park
The hopes have crossed the arch

Their eyes, for new victim, search
They, the bosses, to the people hark
The foxes have occupied the seat on the perch

Now, merrily on the cozy cushion they lurch
As the blameless people charge
The hopes have crossed the arch
They have occupied the seat on the perch
Anything can happen

Friday, June 20, 2014

Taken for Granted

Announcement on Sherubtse DH board
People say that Asians are very lazy and take things for granted. People refrain from bothering too much; be it their character or laziness. We scratch our own surroundings and forgot about others.

And Bhutanese are no exception. I, being one of them, accept my fault. We are very religious minded that we avoid looking mistakes in others or correcting. We fear our goodwill and friendship's fate if we point out the mistakes in others.

Are we really doing justice when we do not point out someone's mistake? The questions may garner a different response from each one you and i accept it. As an individual, you have the right to express and justify your thoughts.

Recent Short-listed list on RCSC Website
As a lay person, i think we must be ready to point out any mistakes in others work so that he/she will be on his/her toes when doing the next task. it will remind the person to be more careful and mindful. one will be alert not to repeat the mistake because no one will like when your mistakes are pointed time and agin.

On the other hand, a person should be ready to accept his mistake. One must take it in a positive step to sharpen yourself. One must be grateful if someone det
ects a mistake in your work. It show the person is following you and you are making some difference in his/her life.

We Bhutanese have "Khey-Meyd", attitude. We feel sorry for the person who made the mistake and portray our "its-ok" attitude. Its high time we change ourselves and our attitude. Pointing out mistakes can be a dharma as long as your intention is good.
A shop Signboard
Let us correct each other with good intention.

Father- the liar



Father- the liar
Dad, you are the head of the family,
the bright light in the darkest of the dark.
Your face is gorgeous like the lily,
Our innocent heart in you we park.

Promises to fulfill did you make,
Happiness did you bring in our face.
the innocent children’s sake
Unstoppable was your pace.

Your promises were sour to believe,
We wondered what wonder would you bring.
Father, fear for further fail were in cue,
Sweet sentimental songs did we sing.


The wound of your unfilled wishes are out
and the blood thirsty creatures
are waiting to shout
as you sit on the bleachers.

Please father, heal the wound fast,
for the creatures are waiting for a chance.
Our house is becoming a history of the past
let not others further dance.


Promises the leaders make...

The leather flower pot




 “Beep beep,” the municipal waste truck honked from the dusty road above my master’s cozy house. “Hey I am coming, wait for a minute” shouted my master harshly to the rather shy boy hanging from the metal rod on the truck.
“Here you are, I wish you could have come later,” my master yelled to the boy as he dumped me and my friends into the filthy stinking dark truck. “Sir, the brown hush puppy leather shoe looks new, why are you throwing it?” the boy inquired hesitantly. “You can take it if you want, my boy,” my master was prompt to respond.
 “Bang, bang” the timid boy banged the truck. “Ala! What is this? I guess we are in hell.” my friend, the torn hat shouted. A large metal plate pressed us so hard that my friend, the green vinegar bottle died but i managed to breathe through the crushed cardboard on me.
I could not see anything as I was pressed hard with my friends but I knew we were taken on a bumpy ride as the stinking truck shook hard like a rolling stone.
After about half an hour, the rusted door of the truck opened and we are pushed out. “Phew!” I took a look around me. The ground was big for English Premier League football players to play a match here but the air was thick with pungent smell of rotting garbage. I stood there on a broken yellow toy truck waiting for some kind hands to pick me up softly and wipe me clean.
I could see few kids merrily playing at the far end of the ground. I called them out at them at top of my voice but they seemed to be engrossed in their play.
“Hi, nice to meet you, I am a hush puppy shoe. What is your name?” I greeted the black fat dog blissfully. The dog did not appear interested in talking with me. Instead it sniffed me with his dirty sweaty nose and moved on like a sloth.
“I know someone will rescue me from this hell of rubbish” I comforted myself. The sky frowned and growled so loud that the lazy black dog frantically ran across the filthy land fill. The children too seemed to be going home. “But wait!” They weren’t going home but running towards me. “Ah! That’s it, God had answered my prayers,” I congratulated myself.
“Wow how beautiful, look at it?” the kids praised me lavishly, “let’s take it home and play.”  I was proud to be a hush puppy shoe. A tall boy with his unhygienic hands ambushed me yet I was happy. The happiness did not last long. The boy did not take me; they kicked me and took the toy truck that I was on.
I never thought the children would do this to me. “That’s it” I glued my emotions, “I am finished here. I will rot in this whiff ground.” That was the saddest day and look like the end of my life.
Suddenly someone woke me from my cry. “You appear to be upset, what is wrong with you? I shall take you home.” A little cute girl with plummy red cheeks picked me up. She understood my language and emotions. “God has not forgotten me” I murmured myself.
The plumy girl showered me gently with warm water and soft brush. I felt rejuvenated and fresh and wished to thank her from my heart. She took me into her dimly lit house which was made with metal drum sheets. She took me near the warm fire made from card board burning and dried me. She then pulled her torn shirt sleeve and rubbed me. “There you are, you look much better now” the girl said, “I have something surprise for you.” She took out an old note book and flipped the pages neatly and ran her finger through them. 
“Can I see what you are looking at, please” I pleaded. As if she heard me, she turned the book to me. “See, these are the flowers that can be planted in you.” she pointed to the brightly coloured flowers in the book with their names under it, “This is what I learnt during my school days in Radhi Primary School.”
She left me on a broken chair and ran out contented. I was looking at the beautiful portraits of our king pasted on the metal sheets when she was back with a small plant. It was a small bell flower.
She took kept me down and placed the flower in me. I was uncomfortable yet loved it as I was of some help. She added soft loamy soil and smiled. She then watered the plant with a steel cup and placed me on her neatly arranged shoe rack.
Though I was a discarded shoe, I did not lose my heart. I kept on comforting myself and god answered my prayers. Now I am out of the stinking land fill and I am happy that I am home to a beautiful flower.
I don’t know for how long I will be with the girl caring the flower but as long as I am alive, I shall and I will always thank her.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Short story: The Relic- In the name of god



The Relic- In the name of god
“Om mani padme hung”, Tshampa Lungten stood from his warm and cozy seat. “Ah! These many years in the mountains has made me yearn to stay longer in the wilderness” he thought as he looked out from the window down the valley. The valley was waking from a sleepy night and the smoke from the chimney greeted the morning birds.
He then took a piece of cotton and wiped the Druk Thuksey medal that hung on his robe on the wall. “Do I really deserve this?” he questioned himself as he glanced at the glittering of the medal. His Majesty, in 2009, presented him the medal for his great effort in restoring and preserving the lhakhangs in the country.
Every year, he spent six months mediating in the mountains and the other six months in restoring lhakhangs in the vallies and the country. “I am born to benefit the sentient beings and I shall fulfill my duty”, he always thought, but wondered, “How I would be able to fulfill the mounting desire of people”.
“I thank His Majesty, His Holiness the Je khenpo and all the sponsors for helping me restore the lhankhang to its full glory”, he said during the opening of the last lhakhang he had renovated.
Sipping his last drop of suja, the Tshampa picked up the bag, locked the door and down he went as the shy morning birds greeted him with their sweet songs. He was on his way to begin a renovation work at a lhakhang in a nearby village.
As he approached the Laptsa chorten frantically, his heart was racing to keep his bag down and enjoy the fresh air. The chorten stood on a small rock majestically looking down the valley though no settlement was near it. Not many people knew about it but the Tshampa had taken rest here for countless times during his journeys up and down.
As he neared the chorten, he discovered something unusual about the chorten. The wall had fallen down and pieces of relics were scattered all around the chorten. “Oh God! The chorten has been vandalized” he told himself. He took out his mobile and dialed 113. “Lopen, the chorten has been vandalized, please come here”. He provided the details and waited eagerly for them.
When the police and the geog officials came, Tshampa was sitting on a fallen stone anxiously, still talking on his cell. “At last Lpoens are here,” he said as he stood quickly from the stone. His face told the team how upset he was yet he managed to explained the scene. The team searched around the chorten and found out that the relics has been taken away except for some old coins and broken statues.
The team felt sorry about the act but thanked Tshampa for informing them. The team took photographs and left over relics and promised the people, who has gathered there, to investigate the case.
The Local Government (LG) did their own investigation in which the Tshampa was one of the members.
The investigating team, not having come up with any concrete findings, the villagers went back to their normal lives. The Tshampa was back at his business restoring lhakhangs.
Meanwhile a policeman was doing his regular duties in the honking and hustling of the Phuntsholing gate. “That’s just a statue for my friend”, the monk said shivering. He was caught by the policemen during the random check.
The monk, then, was taken to the police station for questioning. After about three hours of questioning, he said, “Dorji asked me to take the relics across the border and promised me Nu. 200,000 for my service”. The monk described the man, a businessman and was arrested from his shop in Thimphu. Dorji owned a huge garment shop in Thimphu and was one of the sponsors for Tshampa’s lhakhang restoration works. He was busy negotiating the cost of a silk gho when the police burst in with their team leader. He was question but was dumbstruck. He was the main accomplice who promised to sell the relic across the border. 
But the police was surprised to come across the chain of people involved. Dorji has bought the relics from a man, Aap Sangay in Lhuntse for Nu. 300,000 and was supposed to sell to a lama in India for Nu. 3.9 million.
Aap Sangay was arrested the following day from his village in Lhuntse. During interrogation, he exposed the next member in the team, “A monk gave me the relics to be sold. I paid him Nu. 2.0 million”, Aap Sangay said.
The police arrested the monk, who was Tshampa Lungten from a lhakhang-renovating site in Lhuntse.  The police cornered him with questions which uncovered his character. “I vandalized the chorten on the chilly morning of November 13 and called you all,” he told the police, “and the LG investigating team could not discover anything because they had no idea about the nangtens of the chorten.”
 “I vandalized the chorten because people expected me to do much more after I received the medal from His Majesty. Restoration of lhakhangs required lot of money which sponsors could not render and the government didn’t provide any”, he spoke in his soft soothing voice. He then added “I had no other option than to sell the relics from the chorten for my works; I did to preserve our religion and culture. It was truly in the name of god”
The police also found out that he had a wife and a child who lived in Thimphu. He had promised his family a trip to Bangkok the following winter and for that he needed money. With his limited source of income from reading scriptures, the idea of defacing the chorten was born.
 The chain of Tshampa’s team was char sheeted with and the dzonglhag court, without any mercy, ordered them to be imprisoned for life.
“You will lose me soon, so please take care of me”, Lungten jokingly said when he was taken to the Chamjang jail.
Few weeks went by smoothly and the guards forgot what Lungten had said. One frosty morning, when the guard on duty was doing his cell round, found Lungten’s room neatly arranged but Lungten was not in. The lock was in tack and there was not even a scratch on the tiny window.
Lungten was missing. The guard alarmed his chief who gathered a team and rushed to Lungten’s wife’s house in Lungtenphu only to find the house empty. 



Note: The story, characters and the settings are all fictional and does not resemble anyone.