Gardening the Bhutanese Way

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Life-A Blend of Everything



From sleeping with piles of blankets, to one without any.
From bathing with geyser heated water, to that of naturally heated water of the tropics,
And from cleansing in well set bathroom to one without roof,
From traveling in flight to strolling for miles,
From being a gluttonous eater to an active doer,
From being a commander to a submissive follower,
From being a sponsor to one in debt,
From working in air conditioned room to that of under blazing sun,
From being an empathic to an ignorant listener,
From reading with utmost concentration to that of visual scanning,
From being a vigorous worker to a bed-ridden convalescent,
From being a voracious reader to an awful indolent,
From being a scruffy brat to a pensive grown up woman,
From shedding juvenile tears to counteracting mellowed decision,
From being an ignorant learner to a courteous assimilator.

The times when my life of iron rods rusted, thrashed and transformed shape,
Yet those are the entities that made me malleable, pliable, adjustable or incredibly adaptable.
I have had my foot stepped in an array of bizarre circumstances,
The steps trod an admixture of iridescent rays and distressing downpour,
That’s what defines me and what I am at the moment.




Thursday, November 13, 2014

Unemployment- Where the Lapses Lie


Despite the best efforts of the government to address the issue of unemployment which rates at 2.9% of which youth unemployment rate as of Kuensel May 2nd, 2014, is reported to be 9.6% which is a matter of big concern. The soaring cases of unemployment is attributed to the lack of proper mechanism by the government and relevant agencies to address this issue, lack of congenial working environment and proper selection process in the private and corporate bodies, employment of so many expatriate workers in the construction sites and the inadequacy of the education system to equip the youth with the requisite skills.

Well, one of the common reasons cited by the government agencies and corporate sector for the lapse is due to the shortage of manpower. If this is the case, it is imperative that the government agencies make strategic human resource plan and recruit manpower from the job market.
Another key issues that affect employment is the lack of facilities and infrastructure in the rural areas. This subsequently makes employment a centralized phenomenon.

In addition, one of the main factors that refrain the job seekers from venturing into private sector is the lack of conducive conditions like having to work for long hours without overtime charges, salary not paid on timely basis and termination without benefits. Another reason is the lack of job security as well as personal security especially for woman employees.

Also, the lack of transparency in the selection process in the Private and corporate bodies where vacancies were announced for the sake of doing it while nepotism-driven employee would have been already given due priority.

The employment of so many expatriate workers or laborers at the construction sites and many other fields while our country possesses enough man power for the same is yet another factor dwindling employment opportunities for local workers. This accounts for the outflow of major share of our income. Had this system been ceased, simultaneously the money saved may be diverted for augmenting the pay of our workers. Then it would have provided a platform where people would readily join any work as long as they get paid, and hence eliminate the discrimination of works.

The other loophole is attributed to the inadequacy in the education system to provide skill oriented education or learning processes which otherwise would have equipped the students with the necessary skills suitable for any work. The failure of the government to provide necessary and adequate training to the energetic youngsters who possess tremendous potentiality to perform almost all kinds of work also dwindles the employ-ability of the job seekers.

The one side of the topic which depicts that the lapse lies in the government agencies, private sectors, corporate sectors and the relevant agencies has been presented in the aforesaid lines. However, an individual employee is also responsible for the so-called Unemployment in certain ways. The lines to follow will unfold the other causes of unemployment associated with an individual jobseeker.

 Good work ethic is one of the essential element that the employers want incorporated in the employees. Good work ethic encompassing hard work, perseverance, integrity, discipline and professionalism are considered missing in the Bhutanese employees.

Lack of adequate knowledge, skills, experience and values in an individual which duly make them unfit for the kind of work they prefer or which they get offered. The incompetency of an individual candidate to work in the sector opted.

In addition, prejudice or bias against blue collar jobs from the job seekers despite their educational qualification is duly responsible for the apparent discrepancy.

 Lack of financial assistance and confidence on part of youth to start their own venture and or private business or organization is still on a strong foothold. This in turn is impeding the process of privatization or the implementation of individual innovative ideas.

Lack of innovative ideas in the amateur youth may also be one of the contributing factors for unemployment.

Resistance from youth to join private organizations considering it undependable is also hindering the employee’s decision to opt to work in one of such organizations despite the fact that such sectors has preferably better employment scopes and opportunities.

Lack of work spirit in people where almost everyone in this modernized and advanced world would prefer a job involving minimal effort or a sedentary one and on the contrary expect more salary is one kind of mindset that the employment seekers are conjoined with. Lapse or such mindset of people would greatly contribute to the crisis of unemployment. 

All in all, I believe that the blame game of the mismatch between skills with job available should come to a halt. Nobody was born equipped with skills or skill is not an innate trait but traits that can be acquired as one meddle with the job in the due course of time. Given a chance and an opportunity, every individual possess an innate potential which awaits its unfoldment to the world outside. It just takes a spark to trigger their inner talents to showcase their iridescent flames.

And hence it is important for the government agencies and the corporate bodies to render the opportunity or congenial conditions so that the ones employed will be able to perform in line and unanimity with the agencies. The joint effort of the government and the education sector in equipping the youth with the requisite skills and mindset for the acceptance of blue-collar jobs coupled with innovative ideas would emanate radiance on the mundane path of unemployment.








Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Wondrous Nature

O’wondrous nature, thy value innumerable;
The inspiration that you instill in me,
The warmth that you usher me with,
The happiness that you enclose me with,
The therapeutic value that you seal me with,
The fragrance that you greet me with,
The swinging dance that you welcome me with,
The impeccable bloom that you mesmerize me with,
The ideologies that you enrich me with,
Has made me fall for you.

Now, will you let me to ensue the inspirational drive in me?
Will you let me to bask under your radiance?
Will you let me to employ your therapeutic value on me?
Will you let me to gasp your fragrance?
Will you let me to embrace your warmth?
Will you let me to stare at your immaculate bloom?
Will you let me to tag along your ideologies?





 
The breathtaking blooms of pansy(Viola tricolor)-left and creamy scarlet Gladiolus-right.

Friday, August 22, 2014

The Memoirs of NGOP,2014


Immaculately clad in the finest of attire,
In myriad of hues of azure blues to violets,
Of darkish maroons to lustrous scarlet,
Of iridescent yellows to olive greens;
The Graduates of 2014 flung their gentle swing,
In dire anticipation of the NGOP 2014.

Crammed are we in the magnificent auditorium,
Fumed by the surmounted radiation of our own body.
And so the flimsy programme booklet,
Flapping vigorously has a reason to foretell.
Our hands were in constant oscillation,
And our minds in steady vacillation,
For we have reached the crucial juncture of our life,
Webbed are we in the perplexity of our path henceforth.

Nevertheless, the venerable dignitaries on the dais,
Emanated us with the radiance of hopes and faith,
Ignited our obscure paths with dazzling light,
And quenched our insatiable thirst of queries.

The inspiring words and tales of His Majesty the King,
Pacified our hearts with immense values,
Instigated in us the deep sense of patriotism,
And tutored us to follow his gracious path,
Of undying fortitude to serve his subjects and the country.

We swap our glances here and there;
 Exchanged our words now and then;
Bartered our placid grins a lot;
Shared our cordial laughter over and again.
A moment like this; a memoir remarkable as this,
Would never spring back in our lives.
Yet the reminiscences shall we revere,
And inscribe on our hearts to summon up
For now and times immemorial.

As time ticked by day and night,
The pages of our programme booklet flipped to an end,
To mark the time we stride our sovereign trail,
The time we repay our debts to the ones,
Who selflessly molded us into a wholesome individual.

Hails do us from regions poles apart,
Yet congregated are we under a solitary roof,
Flocked are we under the azure blue sky,
Cling do we to distinct beliefs,
And specialized are we in field so diverse,
Yet in unison we tread,
“To become a better human being”
And to serve all with our gallantry acts.




The memories that will remain encrypted within the depths of my heart..








Wednesday, July 23, 2014

A Birthday Wish

Whenever I go somewhere, my instincts direct me to hurry back home because there will be my beloved, you, waiting for me. And when you make your way out, I wait for your instant return. My heart bumps at every creaking sound that the door makes in dire anticipation of your arrival. I listen to the conversation of your two brothers in meticulous examination of the voice that I long to hear every time, which often becomes a task difficult to distinguish.

I crave to look into your eyes which are woven with affection and love. I know you hardly express your love but I can read it through your eyes. I come to a tacit understanding through the act you resort to.
And today, on this very auspicious day, the day when you gave your first heartiest cry; I would like to lay down a few lines of fact that long awaited its disclosure:

Dear,
When your presence is not within the vicinity of my eyesight,
I can’t stop thinking about you.
And when you are within my reach,
I can’t stop looking at you.
The times when you leave me alone at home,
I ardently await your return,
Expecting every knock on the door to be you,
Fervently hoping to hear your voice.
I choose my every action
To be within the frame of your mind,
To align it in accord with what you aspire.

The Happiest days has dawned on me;
The days where I can bask under the radiance of your unwavering love,
The days where I can hibernate in the warmth of your embrace,
The days where I can get tuned to your melodious voice all the time.

You are special; special for me,
Warm and considerate to those around,
A man with value and wisdom,
You are one kind of savior,
A blessed soul sent from above.

And so your progress shall not be deterred,
Your dreams shall not be shattered,
Your hopes shall not be hampered,
Your faith shall not be diminished,
Your health shall not be deteriorated,
May you live long,
May happiness and prosperity cling to every step you saunter.





Sunday, July 20, 2014

The Unforseen Voyage

Thuenzang was knocked out of his deep slumber when the old man in his adjacent seat mumbled, “Lha Gyelo!” (Let the God Win).  As he stretched his strained body and widened his eyelids, he realized that he reached Kyikyi La, meaning the Dog Pass.

The road thereafter winded and twisted amid the serene blue pine trees. The trees flung their placid swing to the tune of the gentle breeze and the hymn chirped by the birds fluttering about its lanky twigs.

As he shifted the gear of his neck from left to right and then back again in awe admiration, another beautiful scene loomed into his vision. The Chamkhar River meandered on its course towards the never ending voyage. It appeared reluctant a chap to start its journey, rather plagued by sadness to leave its beautiful valley.

To the right, the Kharchu Dratshang; the Celestial abode of the Namkhai Nyingpo bloomed and flourished with prayer flags knitted into a myriad of networks.

To the left, the magnificent Jakar Dzong; the epitome of all the administrative activities of the valley crested atop the hill overlooking the peaceful valley.

To the front, he gleaned a view of the Rudungla; a pass known for hiking and trekking. The pass lay posing with pride, showcasing the tinge of white snowy fleck at its summit and the exquisite conifers adorning it along its stretch.

At the bus terminus, he was lost in tracking down his memory lane the list of mesmerizing scenery encrypted therein. Never was he amazed by nature and natural scenery to such an extent.
When he realized, everyone has left. He shook his head slightly, regained his composure and entered the heart of Chamkhar town. He walked from hotel to hotel, only to get the same response every time, “Gom mathrel lopen”, meaning “Don’t mind sir”.

He lounged over a bench that lay in front of a shop. He stood there with his eyes fury as a flame, forehead constricted into a number of furrows and his body disheveled as a beggar.
Suddenly a man sat beside him after a careful and prolonged speculation of his stance. The man, whom he was introduced to as App Kencho, was considerate enough to take him to his home. It was a 15 minutes drive from the town.

Ap Kencho was residing in a single storied bungalow, neatly maintained and surrounded by a fresh organic garden.

As Ap Kencho summoned, a girl in her late teens, clad with thick woven kira, and a white scarf (usually worn by Bumthaps) bound loosely over her silky hair cascading its way over her shoulder, hurried towards the house. Her ankle-length kira stained with muddy clumps around its rim ushered him with a tacit understanding of her having been tooling around with her garden soil.

“Lemo (a pet name indicating deep affection), offer a cup of tea for our guest”. She waved a brisk node of consent and disappeared into the kitchen.

 The very first glance of her sent his blood racing at an accelerated rate. His heart beat reached the zenith of its pace.

She returned with two cups of tea before he could even visualize how the minutes ticked by after seeing her. In another bowl, she brought ‘Zow Magey’, roasted rice blended with butter and sugar. The suja, salted buttered tea and the zow magey was a perfect blend for him. However, he was totally oblivious of the fact as to whether to attribute the savory taste to the real flavor or to the exhilarated state that he was in.
More than the innocent look on her face, which was a manifestation of her impeccable youthful beauty, her behavior and respect with which she embraced her father’s words or instructions dragged him intellectually closer.

The moment she walked out of the house, he couldn’t stop wandering his glance through the window for her presence around.

He saw her saunter gently amid the linear rows of lush leafy vegetable beds and speculate which one to pluck. She returned with her face adorned with a placid smile, holding a stainless steel bowl crammed with fresh vegetables.

As she caroled into the kitchen, she hummed a soothing tune; a tone that rendered him calm and relaxed. The whooshing sound of the pressure cooker and the sharp relishing odor that greeted his nose was indicative of something special being cooked.

In the mid of his consistent internal struggle as to whether to peep into the kitchen and say hi to her or would it lead to any undesirable consequence, someone halted at the doorstep. A tall man probably in his late twenties, masked with dark complexion aggravated by a firm patch of moustache stood at the door. As he bent to remove his knee-length gum boot clad with mud, Ap kencho exclaimed, “Get in faster Nado. It’s freezing outside”.

Nado stared at the stranger with an unflinching gaze as if to say ‘Who the hell are you here?’ He could feel a chilly tremor creeping along the length of his spine as Nado’s gaze became intensively woven with curiosity and suspicion.

His conclusion that Nado is none other than Lemo’s husband or would-be-husband plunged his heart into the deepest of agony. He felt his muscles twitch out of sheer insecurity and despair. He was numb for a moment.

Lemo wailed from the kitchen door, “Apa, the dinner is ready”. All of them orbited themselves around the bukhari( Iron structure with a hollow space to accommodate burning firewood used as heater). Lemo uncovered the lids of the mouth-watering dishes and served them.

He, being the guest in their house was the first to get Lemo’s warm serving. A plate full of red rice with sizzled pork and beef blended with long strands of dried chilli alighted in his hand. In another cup, she scooped a few ladles of Ema Datshi( green chilli blended with cheese and garlic) and a cupful of Daw( skimmed milk or the remaining extract after cheese is extracted out).

She spread two loafs of sweet buckwheat bread (locally called Khuley) in her father’s bangchung,a round-bottomed bowl made of bamboo shreds. The father chuckled to say, “I prefer this to rice”.
When everyone was engaged in gliding down what laid before them through their gullet, he managed to steal a brisk glance at her over the bukhari on the other side. He noted another important point that besides all, she was terribly an excellent cook.

After dinner, nothing much was left than to move to their respective beds. He was ushered into a room. A bed was arranged with the blankets neatly laid and coiled back into folds. Nado entered and started laying his bed beside him. No longer able to hide his curiosity, he inquired,”Aren’t you Lemo’s husband?”
“Yalama Lopon(Oh my God!, sir), I am just a worker here”.

Was he to believe this or not but the response he got brightened his face with unprecedented happiness.
Just then, the door hinges creaked as Lemo stepped inside.

“Lopen, zimchang zhey”, said Lemo with a timid grin. It was a tradition that many of the local people cling to where ara or locally brewed wine is offered before bed as zimchang for inducing sound sleep.
Though drinking was completely out of the list of his habits, a kind offer made by the girl he was irresistibly drawn to was simply undeniable. He gulped it down and accepted yet another cup. He could feel the liquor seeping down, its effect radiating to every part of his body.

Nado was laughing incessantly at him. All he could perceive was Nado’s palm tapping on his shoulder and a blurred motion of his lips in intermittent giggling and mumbling.

“Please take me to Lemo’s room. I won’t be able to sleep if I miss the chance of talking to her. Please Nado!” groaned he in his companion’s lap.
“Shsssh! Be quiet or else her father will bash you out”, flew the response that knocked him down.
“Please Nado, I am clasping my two hands into one. Help me please!” wailed he in utter desperation.
‘Well, I am certain that you won’t get to see Lemo. She is too young to counter such venture with you for now. If you really want, I will take you somewhere not far from here”.
“Really? But where Nado?”

“Zip your mouth for a moment and follow me”, was all that Nado uttered.
Both of them slid off their blankets, pushed the door aside cautiously and slipped their way out into the freezing midnight breeze.
“It is extremely cold outside Nado”.
“Don’t worry Lopon, it won’t be the same inside”.
He pursued all the instructions showered upon him by his guide and so did he make a victorious journey. He succeeded in sprawling, clinging and leaping over a two storied traditional Bhutanese house.

Positioning himself near the window, he called out, “Yangki, open the window. Please let me in”.
After several attempts to lure her being turned topsy-turvy, he lost his control and baffled out loudly, “Open the window or I’m going to break it”. He tapped harder and harder until the window opened to his delight.

He was greeted with a jug of chilly water being splashed against his face. Another bucket of cold water over him drenched him to freezing. He lost his grip as a whip hit his hand fierce-fully with a simultaneous hoarse voice of a woman that pierced right through his ears,”Yaa Tae-nyen choe”. The phrase says, ‘you deserve this, you notorious creature’.

The next morning, Ap kencho’s summon dragged him out of his fantasy world. “Lopen, you ought to get ready. You have to be at the bus terminal by 6:30 am”.

He felt an excruciating pain as he tried to stretch his legs. When he got out of his bed, he found himself limping. He was astonished to hear the whole account of the story from Nado. All that he could recollect was Lemo standing aside his bed and pouring him the wine.












Tuesday, July 1, 2014

A Credo of Life

I was brought abruptly from the world of fantasy when I sensed a throbbing pain on my toe. My senses had my fingers directed instantly to the spot from where the pain was actually radiating. A sticky fluid greeted my fingers instantly. My inner instincts commanded to switch on the light. And I was awestruck by the copious oozing of blood from my toe.

The fact that I was sleeping on the bunk bed was one thing that made me wonder as to how a creature as cruel as a rat could have made an access. Another thing that left me speculating was that I was well encased in the mosquito net. Yet the creature made its ascend and had its incisor plunged into my flesh.

Other than the fear evolved in me on the number of diseases that it vectors, which might have gained entry into my system through its saliva, I don’t hold any grudge against it. The fact on its evolutionary behavior where its incisors grow 1 millimeter a day and so they are on a constant mission to nibble onto something hard to avoid that kept my adrenalin level from amplifying.

The creature actually helped me to get out of my cozy bed. It was 4 am; I refreshed myself, prayed for a while and started flipping a page. I then happened to activate my mobile internet in an attempt to glean for some further details on the protocols for tissue culture in potato.

The voice message from my aunt which popped in We chat regarding the status of my grandfather’s health had me frozen for a while. Nothing was of much help, shedding tears was inevitable. The incessant drops dripped its way down my cheek until my eyelids assumed an exceedingly bulged stature and my eyeballs a reddish hue. I cling firm onto the fact that no one can eschew our final destination and it is sure to take its toll a day. But the fact that I couldn't repay my gratitude and reverence to the man who had done so much for me, a man who was more than a father to me had my emotional well being disoriented.

On my way to college, I got a glimpse of the grade points of my previous semester being displayed on the notice board and the numerical that came into my glance was simply unbelievable. I have undergone a course for six semesters and never had I scored well below seventy. And after all hours of hard work, sincerity and hard toil, it was simply heart breaking to have rewarded one with a mark clinging in sixties. My attempt to have my paper rechecked or clarified once again has been arrested abruptly, for the course in-charge has been transferred and was no more a faculty who would have a say over this.

I was so disheartened that I refrained myself from attending the afternoon classes. Frustration, melancholy and despair struck me. Shedding tears did but a minuscule help in alleviating my agony. I tried sticking my eyelids together in an attempt to induce sleep but in a no win situation. I thought a way out of the mental turmoil was going to be extremely difficult. I needed a break to reorient myself, to identify the root cause of the agony burning within.


Yet an inner instinct reminded me that I am strong and should not let so small a thing as this to take a toll on my happiness. In life, unexpected things may hammer you down. But the degree with which you spring back to shape and assume a state of normalcy is what determines your personality. If we are to be deterred by so petite an issue, there is no way in which we can face the greater challenges of life. The more you get hammered, the greater is the tendency with which you acquaint yourself with the adversities of life. And so is your ability to dispense a solution to the same.

Monday, June 23, 2014

The Choice

In life, we always have the choice; the choice to be happy, creative, successful and productive.

For instance, you got a slight misunderstanding in your relationship. The choice is entirely yours whether to lay it down on the panel of discussion and solve it instantly or let your egocentric trait to shut the door to liberation. If you choose the latter one, I am certain that it will devitalize you intellectually.

Under such a circumstance, it is extremely important for you to open up your mind, hear his/her stance of the story, enclose yourself in the clothing of empathy, understanding and forgive.

And in another instance, you have heaped a well sought-out plan. All of a sudden, it has been hammered to the ground by a certain wave of interruption.

Now, you can choose to be contented with it for you always have the bigger opportunity waiting as long as you continue to breathe or be tremendously disappointed and toss an air of disappointment that will yield to nothing but frustration and rage.

The same principle applies to the food we eat. For example, you are having gastritis and the option to alleviate or aggravate it is but a choice of yours.

You can continue to take spicy, piquant and oily foods to aggravate it or go for simpler meals that will let you bid a final farewell to the infirmity.

You can choose to be hardworking, determined and studious person who most of the time remains with his nose poked into the book. The result would obviously be rewarding and satisfactory.
On the contrary, it is also a choice of yours to engage in unhealthy practices and regard books as the most dreadful of enemy. And so will happiness and success abandon you.

But all these, the act of obviating the negative forces and inculcating ourselves with the impetus of positive focus or thought for a rightful choice may not spring as easy as I mention it here.

The practice of righteous thinking and consequently the rightful action is possible only if we train or tame our mind. Thus meditation is the only tool with which we can sever the boulder of rightful thinking.

It is only through constant repose and silence that we come to a conscious realization of what is right and what’s not. By then, our conscious becomes clear and vivid within ourselves which in turn will manifest in the act we resort to daily.


Sunday, May 25, 2014

The Stance of an Amateur Writer

So as a cook or a chef examines the ingredients to be added to the recipe in preparation, an amateur writer or blogger as me spend time in pondering over which word to be jotted down next, the phrase to be arranged and fixed into a design that can be palatable and perspicuous for the readers.

Digging and scooping my brain for gleaning the requisite word in store, to be constructed into an attention-grabbing phrase. No matter how poor a repository my brain act as, I manage to create something out of nothing, or reach somewhere out of nowhere. And yet I cook another story, blended with varied flavors to incite different stimuli on the taste buds of many an individual.

Each time an idea strike my mind or an experience incite in me the need to pen down my thoughts, I do it instantly. Or it would be vanished the next minute. Am I in a way tiring myself? Or ushering too much a work burden to my little brain? But each time after the composure of a paragraph or an article, I end up being a happier girl, with a lovely little circle of contentment enclosing my lips.

I would spend time in scribbling something as and when an idea flashes across me. Framing and constructing sentences or knitting a few phrases into poetic expression has caught up my attention. Sometimes, I simply wait for my brain to send the stimulus, which at times fails to. If it does, the same I engrave on the white sheet before it dissipates. Many a times, I would find it hard to assign the accurate word to what I wanted to convey.

People say I am funny, some say I am romantic going through the posts in my blog. But the fact is situation makes me so. The circumstances and the fascinating people around me do layout the conditions congenial for the conception of the necessary ideas and theory in my brain. This subsequently drives me towards the spontaneous reproduction of the same after a period of sorting out the jumbled ideas.

At times, when I am too busy to pen down something or update my blog, I feel as if I have lost track on something else. So often, my daily schedule at the college, the erratic network and some miscellaneous things counteract my earnest urge.

If writing and expressing my own or any other’s hidden stories is an attribute of my happiness, then I am going to go on and on. In this simple way, I am going to choose to be happy. I am going to make this habit cling to me like a shadow. So long as I live, so shall it enthrall and dwell in my everyday custom.

For Pen is always Mightier than Sword...

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

The Impeccable One

O’wondrous nature, thy value innumerable;
The inspiration that you instill in me,
The warmth that you usher me with,
The happiness that you enclose me with,
The therapeutic value that you seal me with,
The fragrance that you greet me with,
The swinging dance that you welcome me with,
The impeccable bloom that you mesmerize me with,
The ideologies that you enrich me with,
Has made me fall for you.

Now, will you let me to ensue the inspirational drive in me?
Will you let me to bask under your radiance?
Will you let me to employ your therapeutic value on me?
Will you let me to gasp your fragrance?
Will you let me to embrace your warmth?
Will you let me to stare at your immaculate bloom?
Will you let me to tag along your ideologies?






Thursday, May 1, 2014

A Day For Retrospection and Gratuity

To the Father of Modern Bhutan,
I warble out this chauvinist hymn;
For letting the nation out of the secluded realm of isolation,
For knitting out a myriad of diplomatic links,
Upon which our nation saunters among other giants
Independent steps despite the miniature it is;
And I salute the brevity and wit with which you handled the miniature.

To the Learned and Respected Teachers,
I appraise you with the words of tribute;

You, the iridescent rays that emanated the radiance
On the mundane path of my life,
And dispelled the obscurity caste by my ignorance.

You, the guiding principle,
The steering wheel that led me
Through my crucial moments to the ultimate destiny of triumph.

You, the vital clog in the wheel of motivation,
The reservoir of inspiration and motivation,
That propelled me to the flimsy firmament of fame and reputation.

You, the epitome of value, knowledge and skills,
The inheritance of which bestowed me with
The worth of person I am and the place where I am.

On this auspicious day; a day of retrospection,
 I salute you the Father and the Demagogue of Bhutan,
The Third Hereditary Monarch, Jigme Dorji Wangchuck,
And all the Beloved Teachers treading his path,
And equipping the future citizens with

The requisite arms for successful and prosperous future.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

The Implacable Torment

The beads of perspiration clinging to every bit of my hair, dripping and meandering its lane over the surface of my body agitates me. The heat-induced lethargy would have the enthusiasm and progress of my daily endeavor deterred. I feel like I am being confined to a burning furnace. I remain inside the seclusion of the four walls of my room or classroom during the day time.

I become more of a nocturnal, stirring out of my den only when dusk superimposes the daybreak. Most of my time would be fleeting in taking shower where even twice a day wasn't a satiable one. Sweats keep on creeping now and then out of my body and trickling its way that agitates me immensely.

My four years of lodging in the tropic hasn't done much to acclimatize my body to the intense heat. Neither has it changed my attitude towards it. Ever since it takes its toll from mild warmth to the intolerable roasting heat, I land up protesting in a no-win situation.

In my agitated mood, I run to the bathroom to get some relief. Rather my agitation gets magnified when the hot water steams upon my body. I scuttle over to the terrace to gasp some fresh air, but the hot air circulating had a rather choking effect on me. I revisit my room, a reservoir of sizzling air and surrender myself under the fan that swirls and twirls the hot air within my room.

Even my bed became a place abandoned. The place which drew me instinctively and instantly for the rest of the season had me repelled for this particular season. The role that my blanket played in ushering me warmth became an asset of complete obsolescence.

The solutions worked out provided but a very little effect. I go out in dire anticipation of a mild air for cool air is a thing that I would term as being completely incongruous. The mosquitoes hovering and buzzing around my ears would be a thing of total dismay. In addition, the throbbing sting that it plunges into my tender flesh really vexes me. The ensuing scratches would be to the extent of bruising me.

In utter despair, I stride towards my bed, trusting the shield provided by the mosquito net. It does wonder in warding off the notorious creatures but it did an equally incredible work of blocking the air that I would die for. Enclosed and delimited by the case, I would remain rooted and heated a convalescent on the bed.

At least during the days, I was freed from the prickly attack of the mosquitoes. Contrary to the nocturne played by the mosquitoes, there is a roaring uproar of diurnal creatures. It keeps on illegally rummaging over all my stuff. This group of notorious creatures; the houseflies used to have a quick landing on the port of my body, irritating and titillating me with the sliding run-way they make over my body.

 Needless to mention that I bathe twice a day for these creatures are shameless enough to budge their filthy legs over mine. It isn't a rare thing to spot their corpse embedded in the rice and curries, and floating over curd and soups. The moment I spot them, my appetite clicks in the reverse direction. And as dusk overtakes the bright hue of the daylight, these creatures congregate over the ceilings like prayer beads in succession.
This is the height of destitution that I was thrown into amid mending my way for a brighter future; the day and night’s torment by these creatures coupled with the soaring temperatures.

With an intense heat as this, I can almost prophesy that I am going to be roasted, with the effect that I will be refined as fine as a toast. I am skeptical as to whether my peers and relatives could recognize me when I return to my serene native place.

This is the height of destitution that I was thrown into amid mending my way for a brighter future; the day and night’s torment by these creatures coupled with the soaring temperatures.





Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Be Mine for Eternity


Dear!
The moment you stepped into the journey of my life,
I had this feeling that I can never stop walking,
No matter whether the path is rugged,
Or overtaken by the bushes of prickly outgrowths,
Your presence has always adorned my path
With tiles so smooth and plants so exquisite,
And the streams so chilly, meandering about my path.

Now, would you whisper thy lovely words into my ears?
Would you hum the musical beat of your intone?
Would you carol a gentle stride along with me?
Or would you retaliate if your feet get pricked?
Would you rewind your route and let me move alone
If you envision a peril waiting at the end of our path?

For you, my only accomplice on the path of my life,
Midst millions have I chosen you as my sole companion,
I make a pledge here;

Please dear, don’t leave me on the path of my journey,
Don’t let me shed tears of forlornly cries.
For I can never be able to stroll on my path without you,
Be my Accomplice for eternity.





Tuesday, April 15, 2014

And There is More to Life

It is a common adage that “Genius is 1% Inspiration and 99% perspiration”. How far does the line comply with what you do or achieve?

Well, as for me, the more I plunge myself into hardships, the more immune I become to the vagaries of life. I emerge as a little stronger, bolder and more is the tenacity with which I come to know about the realities of life.

In addition, every hardship rewards me with the immense gratification that I was able to loom in front of the challenge rather than receding; with the happiness that I was able to confront challenge rather than running away from it; and the motivational impact that the challenge has left on me which can contribute towards my growth.

It is no doubt that many kids by virtue of their fortune or karmic association were born and raised on beds of roses. But the probability or the degree to which they understand the realities of life is seemingly minimal. And so is their ability to withstand the vagaries or hardships of life.

For instance, it is nothing difficult for a person like me to adjust to the South Indian dishes for I am someone who survived on a cupful of insipid kharang (ground corn flour) porridge or a ball of white rice with black tea as breakfast during my primary schooling. A credit to my upbringing in such situation for almost anything can slide down my gullet now. I find myself savoring everything that is laid on my dining table while many land up tossing an air of discontentment.

If we plunge into the inner realm of self, there is so much to be retrieved, rekindled and relished. I feel that we are so privileged to be born as an individual without any defect to our sense organs, contrary to the many handicapped that we often come across. We are gifted with the ability to express ourselves, to manifest the voice of our world within to the world without; as against a dumb or a man without a tongue.
We are ushered with the panoramic opportunity to study; a platform where we can mould our individuality, contrary to someone who couldn't afford to or who had to drop school and earn a living for his/her family.

If I cite a narration in this regard, the picture beneath is a boy name Suresh, whom I have spotted 4 years ago strolling care freely with his mother into our kitchen mess, oblivious of the purpose and direction of his presence. And now he is at the same place to do the chores that his mother used to run, when she succumbed to a dreadful illness.
Suresh with one of his co-workers.
I see him every day doing a myriad of chores; wiping the dining tables, brushing the floor with the broomstick, washing kitchen utensils, chopping  vegetables, kneading and rolling dough, carrying mess provisions from outside the hostel into the mess and the wastes laden buckets from inside to outside for disposal.

Many people are tethered in this way from excelling in their life, the unfavorable circumstances suppressing their latent potentialities from unfoldment. But WE are blessed with all the things set RIGHT for us to study and to explore the budding qualities within. All that we need to do is to exploit it and become someone who can upheaval those who are least fortunate rather than simply sympathizing.


Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Love Invincible

When the first thing that knocks me into consciousness
And along with the morning’s rays greet me,
Is your sweet name
How can you be out of my mind?

When among millions twinkling in the firmament above
Have I spotted only one
Whose iridescent beams had my reflexes set,
How can I let your glimmer dwindle?

When the E-mail address that I daily use
And the signature that I scribble on innumerable pages
Has your name incorporated in it,
How can I ever forget you?

When your name has rented
A permanent shelter in my heart
With its imprint so vivid,
How can I let it fade?

When the very thought of you
Or the mere utter of your name
Showers me with unprecedented happiness,
How can I not endure it?

When the incessant chant of your name
Deep within my heart
Is the only lullaby to help me shut my eyes,
How can I avoid you?

When I have you held hostage
In the prison of my heart
And have sealed all means of escape,
How can I let you go?

When engrossed am I with your thoughts
From dawn till twilight and long into the night
And from cradle of the infant to the silence of the grave,
How can I not remember you?

When all that I long for
Is to have you tethered forever
Under the tree of my love,
How can I let you leave?

When lest you slither into the deep abyss
Should I provide the necessary ledge
To help you up the rocky fall,
How can I let you be in dungeon?

When I have you busted
For the malicious act of stealing my heart
And have you fixed in the dock,
How can I let you escape?

When all that I wish
Is let time doth not diminish your love
Nor stale your trust in me,
How can I ever live without you?