Encounter with Angey Eushom.

95 years old Angay Eushom; an exception with her name as well as age tags along with her daughter-in-law. After a couple of minutes of hard stroll, she manages to settle herself against the wall of an old village temple as her support. Her every move has to be escorted by her daughter in-law who is also in her 70s. 

For a change, I escorted the old granny. I could feel her hand tremble in mine. As I laid her down & stationed myself near her, she threw a faint query;

'Are you Aup Sonam's daughter?'

"Angay, I am from Thimphu. I arrived at your village yesterday evening. I am accompanying my Program Officer(whom she & almost all villagers refer to as Dasho)", I remarked.

"Town girls like you usually don't come near dirty angay. I can feel that you are beautiful though I can't see clearly. 

 "Umm...Angay, everyone who encounters you would be magnetized by your charm & generosity. Who won't love to be around you? To this, she stretched the wrinkles around her mouth into a deeper furrow of contented smile.

So are you going to be around here for some time?"

"We came here to inspect & record the status of the Mango & Avocado seedlings that we have had supplied to this village a couple of months ago". We would leave as soon as our work is done". 

 

"Before, we didn't have vegetables to supplement our diet. We were very backward people with no income. But with Dasho's arrival & benevolence, we were blessed with varieties of vegetable seeds. Our land now puts forth all kinds of fruits(kiwi, mandarin, mango, passion fruit, banana, guava), vegetables & high value crops like cardamom", Angay Eushom blurted out with a  note of spontaneity despite her entire face being webbed in arrays of wrinkle.

It was only towards evening that we were having lunch. I gobbled down the food as fast as I could. This was triggered by my inner zest to allot myself some time inside the comfort zone of Angay Eushom. I slipped swiftly through the door of our host & staggered towards the granny's house. 

I sat beside her on her bamboo verandah, almost gasping.

"Angay, I am leaving in a while. So I came to bid you goodbye".

"So soon? Don't you like our village?"

"I do angay. More than anything, I like sitting near you & listening to you. But I am bound by time".

"So you are leaving to Thimphu straight away?"

"We have some more places to visit; Ketokha & Baikunza. After that, we will head to Thimphu. Angay, can I snap a photo with you if you don't mind?"

She giggled softly before she declared, " My girl, you want to take a picture with this ugly granny? Won't anyone criticize about this?"

"Angay, I know for sure that you were beautiful once, when your youth & age favored . But that wouldn't be in par with inner beauty that you possess even at this age. I am going to post your photo on internet; a platform where many can see it. Accordingly, I am going to urge everyone to pray for your good health".

" How would that be possible?", She uttered with an accent of curiosity woven  with her voice.

"You won't understand much but it is possible. And I am going to do this for you angay".

I could read a language of happiness expressed over her face at that instant.

A thought rang my mind at that very instant. My conscious mind demanded that it wouldn't be fair if I fail to ask the secret behind Angay Eushom's long life. I had my curiosity conveyed close to her auditory canal, to which she unleashed some simple facts;

"It is all due to the merit from the triple gem; an active life augmented with healthy diet.  I am what I am now mainly on account of the food I take. My son & daughter in-law feed me well, & caters to all my needs. My son has made it mandatory for me to gulp down a pack of wine every night for a sound sleep. It is also due to many good people like you, whose prayers & wishes contribute to my well being. But I know I won't sustain for long from now". Saying this, she started pulling aside her prayer beads.

"Do you have a friend?", she interrupted our silence.

"I have many angay".

"I mean a soul mate", she muttered instantaneously.

"Eeh...I do have angay".

"Good! my girl. Never fight with him. Be a good wife, a daughter & a person".

I nodded my head in absolute agreement.

I didn't like time dragging me out of the comfort zone provided by  Angay Eushom. I protested against time for ticking so fast. But then, life has to go on. You don't always have the time to stick to what you love doing. Sometimes, you have to decide against it.

I slipped my hand into my pocket & placed a few notes in her hand, "Keep this with you angay. I don't have much. Buy what you would like to have with it. Don't give to anyone".

She placed her hand on her forehead & murmured, "Thank you bumoo. You have my blessings. Go safely".

I noticed a pool of tear blurring her vision. I fled from her sight before she burst into tears trickling down her face.

The saddest thing about her is that it will be an end to her generation after her only son (75 years old). The son & his wife had no children of their own. Neither did they attempt to adopt one. The couple as old as their mother looks after her & the trio lives in absolute harmony.

If you happen to visit Damji village(Bongo geog) under Chhukha, don't forget to pay a brisk visit to Angay Eushom's house. She is a lady blessed with long life.It  feels so close, comforted & blessed just to be near her. Her entire existence has a halo of warmth & generosity radiating outwards. Get yourself blessed by the blessed one.

 

A glorious moment with  the beloved Angey.

Angey Eushom(middle) with her only son & daughter-in-law.

Monu's Romantic Novel as Valentine's Gift?

 

"Chronicle of A Love Foretold ", a romantic novel by Monu Tamang. Doesn't the title & the cover page in itself reflect the magnificence of the inner content? Well, I, myself having delved into each pages of the book, would say that the striking cover with its amorous title is an absolute replica of the what is embedded within each section of the book.

The story was knit around the protagonist, Kinga Lhendup, a Physiotherapist by profession, who sends out a thread of flashback to unfurl the tale of his past hidden within each fragment of his life's garment.

It portrays a detailed reflection on college life, literally plunging me back into the whirlpool of college days & the turmoil inflicted by the scorching heat of Andhra. An absolute resemblance in the journey in train where we were entirely webbed in fear of losing our luggage  &  little money we possessed.

Another character closely knit with the actions the protagonist resorts to is Namsa Lhazin. She appears to leap her first step in enclosing the two love birds within a formidable fence. Theirs is a tale of romance crossing boundaries like deranging the knot of engagement that his lady has tied with another man, with the consequent of him being fired & even looked down by friends.

Namsa's confession of love without a tinge of hesitation & her letter webbed in true feelings was so romantic. I would like to steal a part  & paste it  here: " The endless chats on Facebook, extended midnight talks &  numerous  walks in the country side. You taught me how to listen to the songs of the wind, the language of the trees, & read the symbolic nature. It was all profound. I fell helplessly in love with you even before I could talk with you."

Monu's book screens a movie of romantic pattern gaining hit episodes in Raichur city; netting out tributaries of his continual voyage in search of his love from the mainstream of Navodaya college.

He more or less adheres his physical bodily acts to the directions ushered to him by his inner voice. For instance, Kinga's persistence & triumph in working towards an almost impossible task of finding an ultimate healing to his patient said to be suffering from Paraplegia & following the language inscribed on his heart for the exultant reunion with Namsa are the clear indications.

Thus, it also in a way convey us the importance of aligning our acts to the language of our inner realm. So the next time, confusion strike you, & when you have many instructing you to do this & that; make a truce with your subconscious being & let it unfold the right option for you.

It also brings to introduction a character named Mala. A part of the story revolving around her was always funny in a foolish way, in sheer contradiction to her own way of showing  her  witty brilliance over others in the class. She is always in pursuit of easier means of scoring high in exams; from  memorizing chunks of texts to be vomited as it is on papers to carrying slips of answers to be sneaked at & pasted in the answer sheets.

The race led by Mala in the hospital upon the TENS machine beeping ignited a flame of laughter in me. This part of the tale reminds us of how perilous little knowledge can turn out to be & the sole purpose of education- the wholesome development of an individual, not just the mere mugging up of theoretical texts to be reproduced in the exams & then subjecting everything to deletion from memory shelf thereafter.

The notorious group devising a witty plan; an act of vengeance to their warden was superficially hilarious to the extent of sending ripples of giggles. However, upon deeper analysis, my heart sent out  waves of sympathy to the man who was only trying to mold them.

 In addition, more liberal time spent at Shruti Bar, intoxicating  & plunging into prolonged conversation on trivial matters opposed to more study time in hostels is something on which I would opt to press 'Unlike' button if a provision is there.   It is sowing a seed of fear in me on my thought of the naughty acts detailed out for it may invoke similar acts by future generations.

My only worry is that people & parents alike would have a completely different notion of colleges in India after reeling through the pages of the book. They might even decide against sending their child to a college in India.

Nevertheless, a book is a book in which a writer weaves words of fiction so as to make it a bit interesting or appealing and suspense-crammed. No writer wants their book to assume a mundane, monotonous style of narrating a tale & bore readers to death. if I go on writing about how sincere & hardworking  Bhutanese students were in college; begging awards & prizes all the time as incident  in many colleges, it is not going to arouse the curious minds as much as a tale of notorious acts would strike their curiosity & the ensuing zest to delve in further until the last page.

I would like to applaud the writer in the use of many interesting phrases of which I note a few here; "The moon gallops, bumping through the dark clouds; Our testosterone remaining highly charged; Books pregnant with pens & pencils inserted between the pages as bookmarks."

The book presents an admixture events of  laughter, emotion, failure, triumph, suspense, bliss, heart-breaking twists, all knit out jointly around the pillar of Love. The story is simple to understand & many would be in a position to suck & relish the nectar of love presented in the book.

The pages of the calendar swept by fast & it boldly unfolds the first day of the month. Wondering what is so special about this month? Well, I bet everyone would be excited about the "Valentine's Day." Some would have already conceived beautiful plans at the back of their mind to surprise their dear ones. A few might have finalized with their soul mates on a exhilarating trip to places afar. But still, majority might be just in inception stage to do something for their lifelong partners. If you have been rummaging your brain for something special to gift to your loved ones, why not opt to pick a romantic book?

 Monu's romantic novel is very well fit to be Valentine's gift to your loved ones. So why not grab a copy of this book and gift it to your beloved ones on this very special day? This romantic novel can be but the greatest gift one can ever think of for your beloved one. Listen to the songs of romance that Namsa & Kinga knits to be sung together.

If you want the love life of yours to spiral & propel higher, then get a copy of it. A rose may perish after a day or two. Cards of love might find its ultimate destiny in the waste bins.  Your words of romance expressed on the day might succumb to deletion from your beloved's memory. But a  book of love on the shelf of your beloved one, inscribed with your own words of love, countersigned by your signatory to augment its value, would entail that you will be embedded in the memory shelf of your soul mate for eternity too.

A dozen copies available with me for sale...

My Nightingale

Oh my Nightingale!

You perched on the string of my heart,

With a sudden jerk, without notice,

Without permit, without warning.

The shove with which you alighted,

Set my heart into ensuing pulsation,

A sensory vibration of bliss.

I have had  myself attuned,

To the appeasing tone of bliss,

Unconditionally & whole-heartedly.

Oh my Nightingale!

You intoned your sweet melody,

The sweetness sank deep,

Into each fissure my heart  have beholden,

To each vein my heart  bifurcated into,

The echoing resonance,

The eternal accomplice of my auditory canal,

Had me spellbound,

My limbs responded with promptness,

Caroling in line with the tunic melody.

Oh my Nightingale!

You swept across your gentle moves,

I  scanned the rotary movement of your eyes,

The nonchalant swinging of your tail,

The flapping of your flamboyant wings,

The tender tapping of your claws,

The shrill clattering of your beak,

Witnessing the rhythmic movements of yours,

Has been the epitome of my joy,

Upon which I glue my unflinching gaze.

Oh my Nightingale!

Never have I been flooded with emotions,

Drained of my inner zest,

Drenched with secretion from my tear glands,

Rooted with no jovial movements of life,

Frozen with no vitality within,

As you did flop to a far-flung place;

Yet the tinge of hope,

Nurtured by your instant homecoming,

Is the only radiance over the path of my existence.

 

CBBs Second Conference-A Poetic Flashback

I was knocked into my conscious realm of existence,

As I lay awake in my cozy blanket,

The warmth embedded within inviting me for a longer stay,

While the darkness outside still caught hold of nature from stirring,

The first thing that thumped my enthusiastic brain,

Was my feeling of being propelled into the exhilarated state of being,

Upon embracing the fact that,

My name was queued in the list of CBBs 2^nd conference.

The thrill in me jerked me out for a morning’s walk,

The chilly puff of air rendered my ears & nose to numbness,

But the warmth of the impetus from within steered my move,

Up until I sighted the Mr. Sun peeping from a hillock.

Conveying me a tacit note on the ticking time I will have to be conscious about.

Down did I gallop in attune with the tender radiance descending.

I unleashed the orange fabric taking into enclosure the religious folio,

And mumbled the scripts in veneration to the White Tara,

For misfortunes & obstacles to be dispelled from the path I & all tread,

For her unflinching guidance & accomplice on my voyage to the right path,

And I sauntered off on the road of my destiny for the day.

My fervent wait for the arrival of a cab came to a halt,

When a beautiful lady, fitting perfectly into the seat of her exquisite car,

Momentarily halted with an alluring eye of invitation.

An astounding coincidence; we were headed to the same destiny.

Her gentle tone knit with an aura of honesty,

Has set me at ease & soon we were conversing like an old friend.

All that warbled off our lips were about books, books & books!

The only diversity in the lane was Monu’s upcoming novel,

Topics ranging from the tale of authors,

To the adversity & adventure the characters had to reel through,

Became the hit episodes in the movie of our conversation.

The conference hall of Paro college of education,

Was plugged in with seventy beady pairs of enthusiastic eyes,

Who listened with a note of empathy & undying zest,

While the tone of our speakers echoed in resonance,

In presenting to quench the thirst of skepticism & ignorance of all.

Our team hovered out like swarms of bees after the session,

And nested themselves upon the sequential steps,

In posing the most  charismatic smile their face can ever stretch into,

While the camera made its attempt to imprison every face into its RAM,

To unlock only upon user command.

In duos, trios & every set of combination were we fitted,

In cars of varied sizes to hues on our ride along,

To the remnants of the historic Drugyel Dzong.

Apart from our conversation augmented with varied flavors & additives,

My toe tapped & head swung in attuning to the rhythmic beats of the music.

Then came the role of our moderator, Passu sir,

Dressed immaculately in a jet black gho,

With his tone woven with an aura of humour,

Would unfold the tales to his earnest listeners.

Drenching us literally with the tale of the 16th century.

Despite many swinging in through the entrance,

The CBB team colonized the courtyard,

While our shrill laughter jumbled with a few muffled giggles,

Crowd-pulled many a gaze in awe admiration,

No wonder ma'am Karma's laughter still echoes,

And radiates a ray of blissfulness that we together embraced,

Many eyes displayed a tacit aching to be one sitting in our orbital group.

Sooner, our moment of blissful discussion,

Was enveloped by the inevitable dusk,

Yet, determined were we to outwit the natural phenomenon,

We had the courtyard lit  to an iridescent hue,

With the flashlight of our cell phones,

Laid over the parched golden grassy ground,

In front of the individual owner.

The translucent plastic cups were assigned an absolutely new role,

They were no longer brimmed with drinks,

Inverted did they lay over the dazzling light source,

They did fabulous in augmenting the brightness,

And sent some rays galloping to sparkle at our eyes.

I bet that was the most impressive moment for many,

As it was to my definition of the grandeur rating of the moment.

The CBB team- Photo session after the conference

CBB members before departure to Paro

At the courtyard of the remnants of Drugyel Dzong

The CBB members with the dawn of their own creation...

The Dynamic Fourth-A day for Retrospection & Gratuity

The Dynamic Fourth; My Idol in Reverence...

 

To the Great Fourth,

The zenith of whose greatness is immeasurable.

To the Mighty leader,
Whose might & capability is incalculable.

To the Farsighted & Visionary leader,

Whose visionary insight is beyond a fortune teller.

To the Great King of all times,

Whose developmental philosophy is pillared on Happiness.

To the Compassionate & Benevolent leader,

The depth of which is a boundless ocean.

To the Great Buddha in existence,

Whose radiance of love is an expanse of a seamless sky.

To the Brave & Courageous Leader,

Whose selfless bravado outwits the armed military might from outside.

To the Flawless Idol in reverence,

Whose elegance & youthfulness flushes in for eternity;

The family of MoAF in inclusive unison,

Offers to the noble Fourth,

A droplet act-of-gratuity,

To the ocean of your greatness.

May this drop amid millions,

Be a part of your everyday

Voyage towards perfection.

The 20,000 lush asparagus plantlets;
5000 bushy Sweet Charlie strawberry plants;

Stationed at the Horticultural Development Site,

At the Nyinzerkha Royal project bound by serenity ;

The sloppy terrain groomed into strands of terraces,

To accommodate various fruit plants;

Is  a gift offered to the Great King.

Planting of the strawberry plants at Nyinzerkha Royal Project.

The rooting of the Asparagus plantlets,

And tree seedlings of various species & heights,

At the hilly terrain of Samarzingkha,

Are in commemoration of the 60th Birth anniversary of our King.

The planting of the exquisite ornamental plants,

Stretching over a length of 6.2km,

Adorning the Babesa Expressway,

With a total plant count of 30,000 ,

Is also an evident gesture of our gratuity.

Planting of Ornamental plants along the Babesa Expressway.

The plantation of near fifty thousand trees,

In the vicinity of the Buddha Dordenma Statue,

Which led to the inscription of the Kingdom's name,

In the Guinness Book of World Record,

Delineates & marks the 60th birth anniversary of our Great King.

The 27km multi-purpose trail encircling the Thimphu city,

Scrapped, drilled, dug & leveled from its initial

Rugged, tree-crammed, root-knit terrain,

Is a gift offered to the great King

To pursue his bicycling enthusiasm.

The Preparation of the Biking Trail

 Fruits from the RNR centre,

Crammed into crates & boxes

At the National Post Harvest Centre,

Are meant for public distribution,

On the grand occasion of the 60th birth anniversary.

The things inscribed upon,

May sound so trivial a thing to be counted on,

It, however, is a simple manifestation,

Of the spontaneous explosion

Of our gratitude to the inimitable King.

The striking yellow & orange Marigolds;

An admixture hues of Chrysathemum embellishing the dividers;

An alternate array of the 2 types of Marigold,

With their peripheral enclosure of lush-leaved Asters,

 Whose yet to unfurl blooms adorning the circular Round-abouts,

Symbolizes our enlivened call for the magnificent celebration.

Striking Marigolds embellishing the Dividers

The exquisiteness of the roundabouts in display

The snow-white stupa

Footed at the gate of the Lingkana Palace,

Represents the purity of our loyalty to the Tsa-wa-sum,

The sanctity of relics be augmented,

Through our minuscule gesture of reverence,

Of embroidering the stupa,

 With fine cladding of flowers,

The fountain of wild blush ivies,

 Swapped with its lush green clones,

Descending swiftly atop the tapering stupa,

Be a symbol of boundless love

That the Great shower upon us.

The white Stupa in its floral claddings

The strands of Yellow & Orange Marigolds beneath,

Interspersed by the sallow & scarlet red Begonias,

Symbolize the dual colour of our national flag,

And the policy makers,

Who works to uphold the nation's interest.

The stout Azaleas at the very base,

Titivated with red to pink blooms,

And the dull olive-foliaged Asters,

Of the defensive peripheral hedge,

Be a representative of the armed forces,

Shielding the vulnerable inhabitants

From internal conflict & external forces.

The inter-spatial floral adornments

Of creamy whitish Petunias,

And fluffy succulent Begonias

In their faint crimson & cherry pink shades,

Represent the citizens

In prosperous sphere of existence,

With their unfaltering service

To the nation in manifestation.

A myriad of hues in adoring the Chhorten

The array of varied hues

Of Chrysanthemum in circular disc,

From a tint of white in the heightened centre,

To the receding tinge of pink, orange, faint to rich yellow,

And the final enclosure of whites,

Is a simple representation

Of the countries overseas,

In a close-knit linkage.

The array of chrysanthemum in its circular disc fashion.

The semi-circular arrangement of Azaleas, Chrysanthemums & Begonias.

The alternation of Yellow & Orange Marigolds.

All these harmonious co-existence within,

And outstanding diplomatic linkages outside,

Where the Great knitted out a myriad of diplomatic links, 

Upon which our nation saunters among other giant

Independent steps despite the miniature it is;

And I salute the brevity and wit with which you handled the miniature.

The impossible have had been possible,

With a relic as sacrosanct as the Dynamic Fourth,

For which we, the citizens, bow at your feet,

With the deepest sense of gratitude,

And a simple manifestation of our gratuity,

In wishing the dynamic leader,

A long life interlaced with happiness, good health & prosperity.