Wednesday, September 28, 2011

A bunch of flowers

Here, I tried to tell a story through the poem. It is essential that we try different mode of expression to express our feeling. Everybody is a poet by birth, only thing why someone cannot write a poem is he does not care to scribble it when it zooms by in his mind. Everybody is a singer, it is his/her wish to sing or not sing. This poem is dedicated by Tshering Namgay to his beloved Dechen Pelden. I post it on his request.
Tshering Namgay

And I would proudly declare that I used the photographs captured by myself. It is captured using mobile, understand me. I am becoming passionate on photography every day. It is because I was inspired by Mr. Pema Namgay. I would pursue it…

“I can’t pluck the stars for you,
I can’t scoop the ocean for you,
But most precious of all jewels-Heart
I offered you with a bunch of flowers”
This I wrote one hundred and one times,
No answers yet, I howled madly into the echoless abyss,
Princess of my heart is the beauty queen of the college.
Even my best friend has zero knowledge on my crush with her,
All handsome tried once and failed once,
They relinquished and never tried again.
I am not so handsome and smart like them.
But I love her in crystal clear drop!

I missed the world since the day I saw her,
I built a castle in my heart,
I am the royal king in the palace,
And Dema, you are the beautiful queen…
I am begging the alms of your Love,
I became the flower in the burning desert,
I became flickering lamp in the wild wind,
I became the sun of the twilight.
We would laugh and cry but together,
Because your laughter and tears is mine too,
We would dance under a same umbrella in rain and shine,
As the flowers of a bunch.

One hundred and one times, today!!

I am never tired of waiting,
Agony of unrequited love intensified every day,
Princess of my heart and the cream of the college,
Came to the canopy with a bunch of flowers,
All startled, eyes wide opened…
Motionless! Extended silence!
Her juicy lips framed with a lipstick
Twinkling eyes throws the spark
that burns every boy’s heart
Moon-like face radiates light
Skin-tight red sleeveless shirt,
And knee-length blue jeans pant,
Cat walk, slim and long legs on green lawn.

I stood dazed off her path
My heart skipped the rhythm
Numbness crawled down the spine
Rubbing my back tremendously
And softness of the breeze knocked me,
And threw me to the land of rainbows,
I never knew when I lost the tears of joy,
Tears rolled down my cheek and perished,
I was held in her warm hug.
Every one clapped,
But for celebration?
Out of jealousy?
Out of appreciation?
Or for making fun?

“Unlike other with handsome countenance
You’ve beautiful heart,
A warm and affectionate palace
Love me as you always did,
Take this Dechen to the eternity of time with you
I wish the lamp of your love never dim.”
She said,
“A bunch of flowers in my Birthday
is more special than a golden ring.
I can survive the poverty but not the poverty of love.
I cherish small things with great intentions
than great thing with small intentions.
Sincere appreciations appeals more
than the dishonest flatters.
I am poor in deprivation of your love
Not when my purse run empty.
Protect me but don’t posses me.
Answer me when I ask “how?”
That makes me happy than anything.
As much as bees buzz and flies for nectar,
So much would I run in search of you.”

Next morning, news rippled far and wide,
All girls sent me numerous proposals
To unseen, unknown and unheard boy
Why only today?
Why not early?
Get hold of the beauty queen of the place
And everyone finds you handsome!
This is the game of love.

I’d never be the players of this game,
I swear I never betray Dechen,
She is mine and me her
We exchanged our hearts
If one dies, another can never survive.

Birds with same wings
Those fly and die together!

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

trip to aamtalab park...

It is always sad to be away from home. We miss our home so badly that only those who went out of bhutan can understand. Yeah, it is no exaggeration. I feel like I am a plant in the middle of the desert. It is not that I hate this place, but it is the phenomenal situation that occurs to everybody. Home is always a paradise even if it is under the bridge.

Monu Tamang paddling to get through

But Sunday ( 25th September, 2011) made a timeless memory away from my home. It started late in the morning. Our seniors in our college planned to have a gathering of bhutanese students of the college in one of the hotel. They gathered Nu. 200 from first year students and Nu. 300 from senior students. And we set out for the destination. Six of us, all freshers, were sent in a Auto (Taxi-like vehicle). Our senior said that he told where to be taken to the driver. And we went off. The driver drove through the town and away and away from the heart of the college. And he left us in one of the place. We stayed out there and paid Nu.60. we waited for a while and yeah, no sign of any bhutanese students. We sensed some thing wrong and wanted to call our senior. None of us has a Indian SIM card and none has the number saved of seniors. And out of six, three of us went to the PCO and called my friend’s sister and asked the number of the senior because my friend called his sister yesterday from senior’s phone. Fortunately we got the senior’s number and called him. He was busy. We tried again and made it successful. We said we are lost and asked the locals around the name of the place. And said we are there. They don’t know where that place is. The solution is that we asked where they are and asked the auto driver to take us there. We asked him as if we knew where exactly we are going. And finally he reached us there.
There, they already gathered. In the gathering we were around 45 students out of which three were doing master course and all others doing their graduation in medical and engineering courses. The programe began with introduction of each students which made us aware of what course and where they came from. There after we had our sips of drinkks and the grand program went on to the floor. There was dancing and singing. It is a call of assurance when those masters rendered the shower of wisdom throught their experiences. They are like our own parents. It is so. Is the truth. When we see other bhutanese we feel the medication of relief and happiness. This is all about being bhutanese. Then we took lunch with chicken. I felt like I am in Bhutan, all speaking Dzongkha.
Then we headed to the Aamtalab park. It is the timeless memory of my life. Before sharing it let me tell you this things. This September has been, for me, a month of adventure. For the first time I was into the foreign country since 17 September, first time travelled in the train on 19th september ( for three nights and four days we travelled in the train from Alipur to Raichur, for the first time I felt the severity of the earthquake as never felt in my life on 18th september, I was on attic of the hotel when earthquake shook me so bad. I was on my way to the college. I am a college student since 23rd september. See all happened in the month of september. And yet another thing happened in the month of september. That is I was in the boat for the first time in my life on 25th september at Aamtalab park in Raichur. It was full of fun and enjoyment. We paid Nu. 20 and got the ticket for motor boat. We rode on it around the lake in the park. It was fun-filled moment. You know, a fish jumped into our boat and in a click jumped into the water on the other side of the boat. It didn’t satisfied me and my friends and again we got tickets paying Nu. 20 each and wanted to experience a paddling boat. Yeah, we did it. We were four in a boat. Two boys and two girls. Boys has to paddle it because two girls were inexperienced and too that we care girls so much that let them not suffer. So I have to paddle by any means. So I was ready to do it. To paddle a boat! I joked in a serious tone that the life of the two girls are in our hands. They assurd the smile. And we started paddling. It is a fun to paddle to sweat under the burning sun. till evening I had a headache. I didn’t know how strong was the sun intensity when I was lost in the fantasy. We paddled and went on and on…we made a round and came back. We did it!!
Then we went to a resturant and refreshed ourselves with the mango juice. And got into the auto and returned to the hostel….

Friday, September 16, 2011

Pain of departure...

I cut my hands for numerous time, it bled so bad. Yet it healed with few drops of medication and ointments. I got burnt in the burning fire, still it healed. Hot water splashed on my face, it healed without keeping a marks. So, impermanent are those pain. But to this destiny of my life, I was unaware that i didnt develop an immunity to the pain of departure. It pains slowly, and triggers up to the unbearable extent. So heavy is the pain, inexplicable within the facilities of words.

It might sound crazy enough for so many species, but understand me that i am going outside Bhutan for the very first time to study abroad. With this excuse i would write the following words.

I know my mom would have started counting her finger for my arrival next year. My brothers and sister would be deprived of brotherly care. My dad would have missed me while ploughing field in the scorching sun. My grandma would have thought that i disappeared! But i would come home soon to serve you as a son, brother and grandson.

Most painfullest of all pains was to depart from my youngest friend, Bo Bo. I can see you in every car zooming by, i can hear you scream, i can see your bubbles bursting in the air, i can feel your cling on my back and how you looked at my face time and again to assure my presence on the last day. But it is too cruel on my part that i even could not say goodbye on departing with you. Forgive me for i don't want you cry because of me. I can feel the missing space, which would remain blank till the day i can keep you on my lap. I would come soon with a surprise for you.

I can feel the missing! I miss the care, guidance and inspiration of Madam Kinza and Sir Pema. I would miss it till the day i would stand before you all. So much, yet so little i could write. It is true, when the heart is full, words are few... I would love to see those beautifully creative photographs of Sir and I would miss the hearty laugh of madam. On coming home, i would love to see Angay still counting her beads sitting on the veranda...

Forgive me for the mistakes and deficiency of expression for i have to do it in hurry... 

Monday, September 12, 2011

Maternity leave not materialized...

The constitution of the Kingdom of Bhutan, Article 9 section 13 states:

The State shall endeavour to ensure the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.

With this constitutional Provision in my mind, and health advocacy which states exclusive six months breastfeeding is necessary i would like to share my opinions hereunder. It is unhealthy even to feed water to the child who is yet not six months, forget about the bottle feeding. The reason for such precaution is that, unhealthy micro-organism would infect the child.

Our neighbor country, Bangladesh, initiated six months paid maternity leave to "combat malnutrition and for mental and physical growth of the child." ( Lucky Wangmo: bussiness Bhutan). Not that we have to do what others are doing, but we have to learn from them. Copy paste and following the role model is a different story! Therefore, our government need to extend the maternity leave. But it is quite sad that they didn't yet approved the proposal of four months leave, forget about the six months leave.

Pregnant women needs enough rest and moral support for the healthy child, advocates the health program in BBS TV but is it happening in reality? We must ask and answer it. They advocate so, not because they don't have any other works to do. They advocate, thinking that if it can bring up any positive impact on the societies.

Echoes of crying baby at home reflects at office. In a way, they can bunk the office and reach home. It is the motherly love. They can't spare a moment in the office when their breast filled with milk starts to tickle off the milk. It is not that they are not committed or dedicated civil servant. But it is the call of the moment, more appropriately child-mother relationship. It is really though in the nuclear family setting, and more difficult to find a babysitter. 

Not only for the mother but paternity leave must be revisited too. Despite it being mentioned as two weeks in breast feeding policy, fathers are not getting enough leave to support his wife and child, morally or substantively. 

National Nutrition, Infant and Young Child Survey in 2009 found a sad result. Only 10.4% of infants were exclusively breast fed for six months and 36.9% to four months. Did our health officials targeted the advocacies only to that segment of the society? The roaring answer is "NO!!!" Then, why it happened? The answer is within us. We must receive the blessing of the answer where it would be of legally constitutional, and healthily healthy.  

Images used from google

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Thrill of poetry...

When a pen pen so sweet words of its own, it comes out as a miracle. But when we hold our pen so hard, suffocating it to vomit forcefully, no miracle comes out. This exactly happened to me. Thoughts come randomly to me in random hours. When i hold my pen, my thoughts deserts, and i could write nothing.  When my thoughts zoom by at tremendous speed, i cant just reach the pen... Thoughts once lost is lost forever!

I was in this game for past months, the honest reason behind the un-updated blog. I knew what my readers, if i have any avid fan, would have thought is that i grew lethargy. Ah... no updates! You might have been frustrated, and disappointed. But that may not be the reason. I was doing something. What could that something  be?

I was drafting my first poetry booklet, entitled With the wind of time. The cruelest of all kind of tempest could be the wind of time. Passage of time makes and breaks the history. Our history evolve with the wind of time. This is the surface idea of my work. In little deeper level, i attempted to tell the stories through the poems. I wrote about the coronation ceremony, democratization, the making of constitution, evolution of  modern education in Bhutan, Royal Wedding and of course some romantic poems for our youth. 

I would like to humbly dedicate this book to His Majesty for he is the source of inspiration for every Bhutanese Youth. And it is more inspiring to know that he is a good writer, avid reader and a photographer. 

Poetry for me is the best of all kind of expression. Sentences would be pregnant with the meaningful choice of words. I wrote it mainly for the youth of Bhutan. For that reason i used simple words to interpret the meaning clearly, and on top of it I would like to add the photographs, if i get the permission from the photographers. I would like to quote a bit of it from my With the Wind of Time: here it goes from To my king and my queen,

his majesty proclaimed, his Royal consort be Jetsun Pema
who is young and warm, kind and beautiful
his humility blended service as a father, brother and son
radiated the heart, not only of Bhutanese but foreigners alike
and in space, though no left,still needs
another person-a humble mother, sister and a daughter
making a complete family, extended over the nation,
may glorious heir be born, in the dragon lineage 
to shower the light of happiness to the people.

keep your pen on the paper. Scribbles can be seen whether pen runs or paper shakes under. That becomes your masterpiece. We are all unique. No one is like me and no one like you too.


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