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.