Friday, February 26, 2016

A Farewell to a bosom friend (winter) ~

A Farewell to a bosom friend (winter) ~
As crepuscular light grows deep
Shading the dominating rays of sun,
There is a crescendo heard within me—
An unusual voice speaking within
Lamenting the departure of the day;
And when stars and moon dance in the sky
Emerging from the heart of dusk,
I sense a parting of someone--
A bosom friend bids farewell.
Or rather like a soul that was attached
To me for yonks,
Seems embracing me to part away.
Time hurries like a busy youth,
And as the arms tick in its fashion,
One by one
In turn
In line
And in order
One season dies
To give birth to another.
Winter is fading its beauty,
And spring is everywhere—
On the green hues of trees
On the waking twigs and branches
On the budding flowers
And everywhere!
Winter is dying gradually.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

My thoughts away from me~

My thoughts away from me~
Like a feather moving to and fro in the air,
Thoughts are scattered in the mind.
Far and wide,
In the distance,
Away,away somewhere far away
My imagination stretches.
Like playing hide and seek
My thoughts switch from here to there
Here to there somewhere
In the far away hill
Away from me.
As if they have
Steps and zeal
Life and destination
Haste and necessity
They walk distant,away from me.

Monday, February 22, 2016

A letter from a divorced mum to a son

A letter from a divorced mum   to a son
Sometimes we have so many things in our heart yet due to inability to utter, they remain within. We may want others to know our plight yet nothing seems working. No matter what happens in life, fate is the number one thing that pushes us. Fate is a bloody thing; it unfolds itself anytime.

Post image for An Open Letter to Mr. Leader, From Mom



Dear son

For 10 years, I have borne unbearable pain of being away from you. For 10 years i have been burning myself in the flame of repentance.Now,i don't know,how long i will continue sleeping on such a thorny bed of life.
I wish i came to the end of life,now Departure from you have been the most miserable thing of life.  I felt as if my heart was left behind when I abandoned you with your father and sought another man I thought would lend me his company until the end. I am sorry, my son, for all the problems in your life. I wanted to come closer, talk and beg pardon for making you an untimely orphan. I wanted to, really! Yet you would never look at me. You would never talk. You would seem no more bonded to me. I wanted to keep  you on my lap, hold you tight and caress your hair like I did when you were small, yet you would stare at me as if you would remove my eyes. I feared that you would hate me. I feared you would abuse me. I saw an unusual grave hatred in your eyes, deep.

You know what? When your father went away chasing dreams of making more money, I had worked hard to raise you. The greatest pain I bore with ease—ease because your father and I shared a desire of having you—was the time I conceived you for nine months. The fact that you possess a precious life of human has been a predetermined  gift of ours. There were times I would struggle to sleep at night due to bulging stomach. Left and right I would role before I could sleep with my body facing up. Sometimes I used to give up the food I loved just because doctor would ask me avoid. During the time I carried you in my womb, you know my son, I would still work hard. I would cook for your dad, plant millet, husk grains and sweep yard.

Toughness arose when I delivered you. To deliver a child all women undergo a painful stage and so did I. If defecating would be tough during constipation, you can’t imagine how difficult it is to deliver a baby like you. Soon after you came into this world bringing me a lot of happiness, I have lifted unlimited burden to raise until you were 10 years old. You would follow me wherever I went.You had become my shadow.
Your post- natal stage was burdensome (if I have to consider the way many non-mother does) like for many people yet, I took with ease. When I would return home after paddy and millet cultivation, you would be waiting for me;for suckling my breast,for crying and sleeping. My aching back, calves and throbbing headache would torture me when I got out from the paddy field yet, I never forgot to keep you on my lap. As a woman, in the rural village, I was in charge of cooking meals for your dad and siblings always. Until you became two years old, I had to cook separate food so that you would swallow easily. I did it not because it was my responsibility but because I loved you more than anyone.

My bed would reek of urine and I have had to wash the bed sheet every next morning. Frequently you would defecate on the bed and I have had to clean your bottom and the sheet.  My son, perhaps, in yours and wife’s time, there would not be as much burden as I have lifted. Perhaps, you have seen coming up of different facilities to raise children.
As a mother I had to boil water for you to bathe. You would cry and deny bathing yet I would coax you. Had it been your father, he would have never enticed you to accept taking bathe. As you grew up, you used to run here and there to play and make your cloth dirty. I would get tired of washing them.

My son, before you got used to sleeping with your friends, you would sleep with me. Many a times, in the midst of night you would  wake up and start crying all of a sudden. Without surrendering myself to laziness or inability, I would wake up, sing lullaby and then suckle you. Would I be not tired of working the whole day? Did I not desire sleeping peacefully like your dad in another room did? It was a sacrifice for you, my son! My life is just a shadow and you are my light. When I ate corns or chewed other things, you would, out of greed, cry and demand for it. No matter how hungry I was,i would feed you. Until you gained teeth, I chewed for you.

During the day, you used to sleep once. I had to make sure I came home asking permission for few minutes to put you to sleep. As I would comfort you into the cradle and swing it until you went to sleep, I used to sing lullaby for you. You would not sleep easily and every now and then attempted to jump out, crying. I had to comfort you. I had to pat you and caress your hair to put you into sleep. Sometimes because you slept in the day, you would not sleep at night. I would be weary of day’s work and would want to sleep early but before you went to sleep, I had to comfort you.
My dear son, perhaps, due to the fact that you are still a kid, you will not get me. You will hate me for leaving you and your dad behind. I am sorry.  I was at fault for your dad never looked at me with anger. He never beat or scolded   me. I was already in love with that another man and was pregnant, I was short of option. I can vividly remember the kindest offer by your dad—he wanted me to come back to him. I am sorry, my son. My character was at stake. Dignity of your dad was at stake. I had to resort to abandoning your dad for no good reason. Society as I know would make fun of me and my child; I feared that the scar of bad image would be stained in all our family members. To take the blame myself, I decided to go with him.

You know, my son, after I chose to marry another man, I was never happy. Day in and day out, I had to succumb to series of physical torture from him. My life was a total mess. My life was no better than hell. I decided to leave him behind.I thought that a man who tortures me daily would never give me happiness.I knew i had made a wrong decision of marrying him. Had i thought of another thought that fateful day when your father had been kind enough,our life would have been so happy.We would have been doing other good thing.Perhaps,it was a destiny of ours to be separated from each other.

It is at this time, I am in need of a companion. I am in need of someone who can wipe off my tears and assure me that I am not alone. My son, its fine, I won’t beg of you. I have hurt you enough.I am leading my life the way time decides. I have no words to apologize you yet I can’t do anything more than SORRY!
If one day you find time and decide to meet me,you are always welcome.I live with my brother for now.I don't know how long i can live with him.

Thank you
Your mum


Saturday, February 20, 2016

My Lines to His Majesty the King (On his 36th Birth Anniversary)

My Lines to His Majesty the King (On his 36th Birth Anniversary)

Oh the divinely lord living  in our heart
You reign our soul!
Emerging off of a noble lineage,
Your coming to this earth
Was a prophesy our need conceived
And the almighty foretold in his giving us
The Wangchuck Dynasty!
In your benevolent reign
Our entirety thrives;
In your divine being
We remain  humble subjects.
As you keep us showering your blessings
We proffer our prayers from the pure heart;
PC:HM page

To the ultimate almighty above,
I beg for you –
Good health,
Long life
And
Fulfilling kingship.
I wish you unusually grandest   36th birth anniversary.








Wednesday, February 17, 2016

What is there in memories?

What is there in memories?

What is there in memories
Which come haunting like phantom?
Why does the PAST reverberate
Like a rippling echo in our heart?
Like the perfume from a jar,
Good moments eject into the delicate mind
And bad memories pong s deep.
Into the depth of past thoughts
As we delve  ourselves at times
Why are we smothered?
Or like visiting old friends
When we recall onto yesterday’s good day
Why do we whimper within?

Like an ensuing hollow shadow
Memories remain like a trail in our mind
And gradually when time passes,
Wane like a glowing candle—
So powerful and burring
Yet impermanence cast its shadow
Taking memories away from the mind.
If such is the reality,
Why do we burry memories in our heart
And suffer like they alive forever?




Friday, February 12, 2016

My ordinary words to the extra-ordinary prince

My ordinary words to the extra-ordinary prince


As we waited with prayers on our lips,
Our heart reverberated with this conviction
That the prophesy of the lord be realized;
When the deep blue hue of sky smiled
And the page of New Year unfurled forth;
In the gesture of a precious gift
To the entire nation,
My lord, your coming is an unprecedented phenomenon.
In the visage of a prince,
As you step into this mundane  world,
May you touch our lives with divine blessing;

PC:HM Facebook page

Into the ignorant mind of ours,
May you kindle in us compassion and love;
With the crossed hand at  our heart
And wishes on our lips,
We prayer for your long life;
And as long as my lines shall exist
So shall my prayers persist.








Wednesday, February 10, 2016

My thoughts rippling into wilderness of imagination

  My thoughts rippling into wilderness of imagination


I don’t know what happens to me sometimes, but my eyes get cloudy with the sentiments--with feelings of wanting to cry. I cry, literally. I know it is silly to shed tears of no worth yet I find no other way than this. I don’t know when it comes to family, village and thoughts of missing someone, I can’t hold back my tears. I know I am little too sensitive but nothing has ever helped me—not my maturity either.
Few years down the line, when fortune unfolds what it has in stored for me, I will have gone little too far from what today and yesterday has offered me. I will have grown up. I will have my own agenda to take up.  My life will have taken me far away. I will have been succumbed to the cruelty of changes. My life will have been burning in the flame of what not things.
The need to stand wise before  my fellow villager; the need to become what everyone expects of me and, the need to come into the forefront of societal belief, have brought me far from my village. Where my family lives, lives my everyday’s’ thoughts. Where my childhood memories in umpteen cries and beckon me from past, there dwells my desire. Where winding, crooked and mound of mud sleep to form terraces of paddy field, roams my mind. No matter where destiny drags me, I have never been able to give up the pleasant thought of my village, which on recollection kills me within.
Those people I love, with whom my childhood has faded and, on whose lap and embraces I have fallen, lingers in my heart as an unforgettable memories. Those spot, the plants and birds whose mundane beauty recognize me as what I am, invite me unheard. Those thickets on whose existence I have tread and played--at times counting and calculating, still identify me.
I know in few years time, I will have time to go back home, stay and enjoy what I have been missing, yet everything will have been changed. The small trees which are innocent enough to serve me its shed will have started greeting me and those which greeted me will have withered aged and died. Everything, as natures always does, will have been subjected to a change.

Perhaps, I will have long beards; moustache and youth will have been fading. I will have my own family to take care of; children murmuring for this and that and influences of my wife to spent holiday in her village. Then, I will have gone far from what I am now. I am afraid. I am worried. I will have changed yet there is no armor against the cruelty of uncertainty.

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Departure—a tough move

Departure—a tough move
The dusky morning when stars still twinkled,
And the remnant of pitch dark night
Still lingered in the air;
When thicket dwelled in hollow hush
And the rooster crowed in a crescendo
Bidding farewell to the night,
The cruelty of moments flourished
And my departure was at the threshold!
Saying goodbye throttled me,
And imagination of distancing with family,
Was an utter nightmare.
I feared with the wild thoughts
That kept me vigilant
Of the time that would go on,
Of the reality of existence
That we mortals are the poor slave.
I feared with the thoughts of changes
That would murder my innocence as time goes by,
Yet far beyond the chain of hills
I had to take memories,
And leave footprints back.
Bidding farewell was tough,
Yet I did
For the good of mine, theirs and ours!

Thursday, February 4, 2016

A reflection of a loving father

A reflection of a loving father

My life has never been as tough as it should have been for I have been continuously under the supervision of caring parents—mum and dad. Well, I have seen many people undergoing a great struggle in their daily lives unlike me. I have seen many people with a broken dream moving on with life. Many people must not have known what comfort and good life are; they might not have known what it feels to have a supporting father and an inspiring mum; many people might not have experienced the feeling of being motivated and trusted caring dad and a loving mum.
I feel proud to write that my entire life has been ruled by pleasant thoughts—thoughts of being proud of having a great father. There was never a time I ever thought that I am going fail badly; that I am going to be prevented cherishing my dreams. As long as you have a shadow of your parents following you; their love and affection embracing you all the time and holding your hands and leading you, you will never be left hopeless and shattered. Your dreams will see the light of reality. Your life will be a wonderful gift to you. Your destiny will be a pleasant phenomenon.
For many lucky people, your father is a savior; a fulfiller of your dreams, and a guide of your life. My father has been such a notable figure in my life. If I don’t speak to you about him, I am not gonna forgive myself. I must write about him and remind you how great our father is.
When I performed well in studies, he was happier than me. I have seen him boasting and blowing the trumpet. Whenever and wherever he met people, the topic he used to discuss was about my performance. Although I   used to feel shy when he used to talk of my performance and remain away, I thought, one day I would make him prouder than what he was then. I wanted to see him making endless talk about me with others. I wanted work harder every day. I wanted to see him happy about his children.
My primary schooling was very wonderful time to cherish. My father used to give me money every day—sometimes Nu 5 and sometimes Nu 2.This would help me buy four cookies costing Nu 2, and a Miranda Pepsi packed in a small cylindrical plastic. Sometimes, I used to buy rice flakes and share with my friends. In the evening, when my class got over, my father would buy me Nimki(a salty mitghai) and I would go home eating it along the way. Sometimes, he used to buy me a packet of Thin biscuits. This practice of his made me earn a lot of friends because not everyone’s father did like mine. Many friends would walk home with, me eating with me. My father had even instructed many shopkeepers to lend me whatever I ordered, on credits. Such scheme of his however didn’t thrill me for I never wanted to get things on credits.
Soon after I graduated my primary schooling, class eight, I was to go far away to a boarding School. My father was excited, then. Although he didn’t have an original source of his own to earn money, he borrowed from a neighbor promising him to pay paddy as interest annually. He gave me Nu 5000/- to   buy necessities for schooling. It was more than I expected, more than I deserved. I had made a list of things amounting to Nu 3000/- and asked him the same. He gave me more than what I actually desired for. It was a huge sum, at least for me. Off to school went I.  My mum and dad struggled with paddy cultivation and at the end of the year, harvested enough to pay interest. However, sad thing to note, then, was that the money lenders demanded paddy that yielded delicious rice—khamti and masino were the only rice accepted. And, the worst thing was, is and will be that those varieties of rice yielded less in a huge land (Where an acre of land with OR yielded one metric tons, Khamti and Masino variety yield only around 200 -400 kg).
The very fact that we owned only around 60 Decimal wetland that yielded amount that is just enough to pay interest, made us paralyzed in ability. We had to cultivate other land as a sharecropper. Lender used to come with sacks and additional porters at the end of the year. This happened every year and each year the share for interest increased-- doubled, tripled and then quadrupled. However, as long as someone studies well, everyone’s parents will be happy to expand money on their children. My study was good; they felt encouraged to expend on me. My younger brother who got double promotion in class one also used to fare well in studies.
After I qualified for tertiary studies to CNR, he was further inspired and happy. He used to keep his spirit of giving more amount of money than I required, continued. He still was happy and afforded me.
Today where I stand is all his power to push me forward with inspiration and enough support. If what I can cherish as my life, today is what his unconditional love has afforded. His continued support, encouragement and guidance in conjunction with my loving mum pushed me to this platform.