Flooding thoughts of Winter

It's already 11 PM.  I can hear the wall clock make tick-tock.  It is a dark and a very cold night. I have four layers of clothes on my body and another four on the bed that  wrap me. Chill on the toes doesn't go away despite wrapping inside the layered blankets.  It's numbness that buzzes like the swarm of bees on the toes and fingers. You would hear it,   if you were close to me.

 Itches on the body are better left unattended than tried to scratch or else it would feel like death laying its icy hands. Ducking inside the layers of blankets and dodging the freezing cold air that hovers inside my room, I don't have many complicated things on my mind but a silent wish that time would elapse fast and winter was gone. Emotions are rendered numb and frozen as cold  deepens with night and  being in Thimphu feels more of a curse than blessing. My emotions  seem confused and senseless at the intensity of this cold. Despite the overwhelming fondling of the spiteful cold, I don't know what it is but  there is a light of excitement kindling within, as December slowly enters the calendar and take a few steps ahead to exit as well. Some students are done with the annual exams. And they are excited to enjoy the winter vacation after hectic academic sessions. School staff must be already laying the thread of activities to weave a plan for winter break. After a heavy dose of academic sessions, who wouldn’t be excited!

 Back in the village, paddy fields must be strewn with the after-harvest of paddy plants- stubbles. And where water has managed to exist, egrets must be already spread into   paddy field to hunt for fishes and toads. Young kids who have not been colonized by the use of mobile phones must have started turning the school socks into ball to play PITU (Game of seven stones). Some students must have already bought a CHUMKI to play. While that w as on a fun note.

On a serious notes, those border students who have been away from their must be excited to be home. But fate has thrown discriminations abundant for many kids like us. For them winter also means a time for earning hot cashes for the next academic session as opposed to attending a winter coaching classes for urban children. Or maybe what urban children would think of building and polishing skills, it was a time we thought of earning cash. Rustic as we are, our thoughts are always a pyramid-like, ultimately having cash that would help us push towards the educational journey. 

  

I have those vivid memories of having undertaken so called TEMPORARY JOB of loading and unloading stones, sands and gravels. Clearing bushes, making drainage along the road, making gravels and constructing walls, you name it-we would take up anything that would keep us engaged and provide a platform to earn money. And happily receiving cash of Nu 3000/- at the end of the month that would straightaway go as school expenditure would be a milestone that would be so overwhelmingly unimaginable at that level. Even sweater memories are of the packed lunch we would share among friends after having lost significance amount of energy, loading and unloading stones, sand and gravel. How painful palms, fingers and hands would be in the evening when we used to wash them! But basking in the fire with those weary eyes and body, it would be a reunion with parents that is worth million dollars, from a monetary perspective.  And those agonizing pain would be forgotten.  Sitting by the fire, over a cup of tea, I remember dreams I would share with family. The dream would be regarding what I would do after studying. We were small people with dreams suitable to our status. Innocence would be another feature that would decorate our dreams. Yes, winter also means dream -sharing moment-at least to me.

In addition to the above, winter also meant collecting firewood from jungle. I still have in my mind that fear of elephant or any wild animals used to be zero. Unstopped by any fear, motivated by the fact that such life was our obligation, I still remembering travelling through thick and scary pockets of jungle. Be them fodder of bamboo and many plants that cattle would consume or firewood stacked in the baskets, this life had a privilege to taste, which would soon be a tale for today’s  generation. Such life was not tough but held great values that prepared us for future. I still find value in keeping an image of myself ploughing field or carrying a basket on my back. That is the root that created the branches of life I have today and will have in future.

Dasain Nostalgia

Once again,like always,the excitement of Dasain creeps into the heart.Perhaps, over the years,the significance of Dasain unlike im the past, has become quite dwindled . At least to me. Nothing like ever,this feeling would be as strong.Nothing like the life that elpased with the constant flow of time,this moment would be felt.
Childhood went by.There were times i wished i grew bigger-physically and mentally.Even if i hadn't wished so,this day would come.This feeling would creep in.
Looking back at time that went by,approaching Dassain brings a lot of memories that have stayed as value adamant to even forget let alone wane.
It was the time of golden looks of rice that Dasain would come with. I still remember as a child asking mum so curious question."When will Dasain come?". " When the panicles of rice appeared",she would answer. curiosity-filled mind would wait for the rice to bear panicles and Dasaain would come brining with its lots of joy. As a child what was more important was the excitement at the thoughts of receiving money from relatives filing the forehead with tikka.( curd-mixed rice).Having received new dresses with the money borrowed from neighbor, promising them with "Khamti rice" or "Masino" variety at the end of the year as the interest,we would sail along the wave of Dasaain. Feasting on the mutton would be another grand time for us. We had all such great gifts of Dasain but never ever looked at Dasain as such a beauftul occasion other than eating and enjoying.
Today, divided by numerous hills and thickets,distanced by thousand miles,I am here once again, existing,welcoming the great occasion of Dasain.But deep down in me, lost are some of the excitements that were part of my childhood.Lost are the grand feeling. Like other mundane days,this year's Dasain is trudging through its hills of time and here i am, looking at it and feeling nothing but nostalgic.
Where are the scenes of neighbor preparing for Dasain?Where are people white- washing their houses?Where are people sharing face-face excitement?I am away from where these things happen.Perhaps away,ahead in time such scenes can be witnessed. Also, unusually different approach of the take of such a great occasion has developed in me.And that is truth, as well.
Dasain, now wouldn't mean Mutton. Dasain now wouldn't mean new costume. Nor would it mean money after tikka.
It would mean greater than such things. It would mean a reason for reunion, after years of separation with loved ones-parents and relatives.It would mean reiterating the waning feelings of bond with relatives and family after years of separation. Dasain, now would mean a time for sons and daughters to travel home,meet parents,receive blessings and then go ahead with the journey of life.It would mean celebrations with family.

By the grace of god,i had the privilege to be with parents last year at this time.That was after around a decade of separation, reuniting with complete set of family members. On the pretext of celebrating Dasain. And the most unforgettable moment of life it was.
This year due to some other prior engagement i can't be home. Mum expresses her feeling of disappointment for not having us home by sharing news of sons and daughters of neighbor going home.I can feel the disappoint she has.And i totally agree to that emotions as well. Festivals are such emotion-striking moments of ones life. I hope someday in future i can make it to home.
For now i wish all by relatives and friends a Happy vijay Dasami on Friday after the great day(Poll day).It shall be Nations Vijay dasami as well.

A letter to my parents

Dear mum and dad

As I grow bigger each day, I have realized that you have been growing old. There were times you and I thought of the day I would grow matured. I am sure you dreamt of the day your son would grow into a man. Yes, today as I realize that I have successfully grown into man that you had dreamt of, there is a feeling of sadness mixed with nostalgia. Never had I thought I would grow this big to just remain away from you all. I know you also didn’t think of this but selflessly never ceased to educate us.

You received the rainfall but kept us dry. You burned yourself under the sun and kept us under the shed. You swallowed the pain and gave us the relaxation and happiness. A little money you earned shedding the rivulets of tears, I know, you spent on us. The money with which you could have purchased a cozy jacket or a beautiful pair of shoes, you expended on us. For out tomorrow, you forgot your today. Just to gift us the better days, you fought with bitter days. I have remembered every little that you provided me that kept me going. I asked one and you gave me ten, perhaps, the biggest amount of anything that human on earth can give.

You and I have trodden the path that poverty laid for us. I have witnessed the adversities that fate threw on us. I have perceived with my own hand the hardness of life that pressed us hard. Eating half stomach, you would fill ours to the fullest.

I can remember vividly when we had to shift to our own house from grandma’s house, how tough it was. We had nothing other than sooth-painted dishes, old rugged clothes and the cracked fate with us. With the hope for a better tomorrow, to write our own destiny and to challenge the fate that every married son had to face, I have seen you migrated to our new house. We had the cheapest house that stood like a tower and still we have it. We had nothing except the empty rooms without beds to sleep on and without fate to bless us. One person that was there spectating us was only God. To the world, we just looked assess with- what- will- you- do- to- eat kind of people. As small as we were, perhaps, never must my parents have thought we would one day grow into respectful asses. Or perhaps they must have dreamt us of growing big. Unsure of what our future would look like, I assume you must not have dreamt of big dreams.

Dad and mum, I still remember the time we had to take kharang. Only on occasion, fortune would allow us to eat rice. I still hate those moments when we had to eat Kharang out of no choice. I still keep imaging as to how much you would take to go for shopping. We had no source from where money would come from. The produce of paddy we would reap at the end of the year, most of them would go the money lenders. I have seen you, my mum working damn hard, getting others land for sharecropping. How tough it might have been to clear the bushes for ginger plantation. I was too small to think of your health and never did help you. As we grew bigger we had to go to other places for our study and you still struggled under the scorching sun and lashing rainfall. However, I have understood the toughness that would hit us having to work as a farmer. Don’t worry, your son has grown empathetic and never fail to appreciate the sweats that drain from your body.

The time we had no oxen and had to hire from others with paddy in return, still haunts me. We had thatched house that wouldn’t effectively prevent dripping of rain into the room. Twice in a year, you used to replace with straw. The time needed and the difficulty you used to face in reaping the straw that too on a sharing basis is, unimaginable. 

I look you with great awe for your greater sacrifices for me and my siblings. You never wore new shirts and shoes, but never denied to buy us one. You wore torn clothe stitched again, and gave us new ones. Still today you have maintained the same trend. Our tower- like house is on the brink of losing its name. It seems like it would collapse anytime. The money that gambled on me and my siblings and of which the return would be never even quarter of it, would have made a good house for you two. Yet you forgot your comfort for ours. Your love showed our need and concealed yours.

I want to ask you, today this question: are all parents around the world, as foolish as you are? Foolish for the reason that you know you won’t get even one tenth of what you gave us back! Is it that you expect your children to look after you when you grow old? Have all the children been able to fulfill the expectation of parents? Perhaps, you are living with inferior feelings that your children may not come nearer to your dreams.

Nay, don’t worry! I write this, today, as a proof for tomorrow that, no matter what, I will try to fulfill many of your dreams. I will make sure an expectation of a parent never go in vain. I will fill the gap that life and fate have created. I shall struggle every day and night to be your good son. I shall keep this writing as an evidence for tomorrow for you to refer and comment on me. The worries you have that you reiterate almost every day will be clarified soon. 

I sure by now,you must be worrying as to what type a wife will come to me.This worry,i know,is harbored by all the parents of grown up kids.Let me assure you that when time comes for me to marry,your son will not search a wife who would drag your dignity to the ground. I will search a wife who will come like a daughter to you, love unconditionally   and travel with us endlessly. I will not breed a feeling in you to feel low in the society. I shall serve you as any good son would serve their parents. You have given me so much that i won’t be able repay in my whole life. But I will make sure your dreams see the horizon of reality. I love you!

Your son

HAPPY teachers Day

HAPPY teachers Day

Not every time do I say this,

Not every time I remind you this

Yet today as your day comes,

I am overwhelmed with feelings,

And perhaps words are limited, yet

Myriads thoughts in my mind come flooding—

Some come with songs—

Songs of appreciation,

Songs of felicitation

And songs of reminiscence.

Some comes with gratitude—

Gratitude for blessing

Gratitude for bestowing love

Gratitude for painting my dreams.

On every trail I leave behind,

There is your impression left,

And every step I take,

I imagine your presence.

My going doesn’t seem tough

Because your presence in life

Smooth all roughness I tread.

On this August Day,

I owe you all my love,

And I wish you Happy Teachers’ Day.

Celebrating Diwali after 8 years

Celebrating Diwali after 8 years

After having remained away from parents in the most important occasions for several years, I was home. It was one epic, memorable and important moment for me, my family and many others who keep family as their assets. My life had seen the beauty of the most important moment. I felt lucky to have been able to make it for the occasion. The light that I lit that night—the candles fixed on the barks of banana trunks—not only brightened the night, but also the soul and heart of ours. We were celebrating together after a long time. I could see smile on the lips of my parents. The smile that returned after a long time with the presence of their son was visible from far. The zeal and effort with which they welcomed the night of the occasion was in itself revealing the excitement that was accumulated within them. The night was cheerful. Each moment that consumed the occasion felt great. One thing I realized forever was the fact that family union is the greatest moment of life. I was overcome with sentiments.

Since the morning, wreaths of marigold and other species of flowers waited to be hung on the doors. Piece by piece, the flowers were joined by long threads and when the crepuscular evening presented, doors beamed with orange hue of marigold’s wreath. Neighborhood gleamed in the same way. Firecrackers were the sparkling and blasting in the infant darkness over the sky. I got overcome by all those gaps and the moments I missed and could feel the eyes get drenched. Perhaps that was the only moment I got to have that great feeling after growing up.

When I was kid, I never felt like I enjoyed. Perhaps I took things for granted as we usually do. I would feel like everything that came by was something that should do and therefore, never had as much excitement as I had after this long years. Absent had made the heart grow fonder. And the long gap created so many spaces to take everything that came by in a grand way.

That night I wanted to sing loud, speak to the world that I was happy, that I was there again. I wanted to let the neighborhood feel that we were enjoying as much as they. Like my parents were living in the village—only bride and the groom—the neighbors were no exception. In some homes, old couples, lit candles, welcomed Mata Laxmi—the goddess of wealth—to their house and, perhaps missed their children. I could read through the expression they exhibited that they were not as excited as they showed themselves to be. I could do nothing but empathize with them and their plight. I wondered then, did their sons and daughters missed the parents as much as they did! Did their sons and daughters wipe subtle tears as they did?

That night went by, next night, it was desushiri time.I went for singing desushiri. It was unplanned. It was never thought of. I had already made up my mind that I would spend my time with family. I wanted to hear other sing. I wanted to rejoice at others performance and once again delve myself into sentiments. I wanted to go back to my past when I lead a group of young youths into door to door singing. It was then, for money. It was for earning. At the recollection of those moments I felt like laughing. This time it was for entertainment. It was for living the moment and keep record of moment I enjoyed.

Indelible memories remain in my mind of that time. Unforgettable moments reside in me of those days. I have forever created a unique memory!

Celebrating Diwali after 8 years

Celebrating Diwali after 8 years

After having remained away from parents in the most important occasions for several years, I was home. It was one epic, memorable and important moment for me, my family and many others who keep family as their assets. My life had seen the beauty of the most important moment. I felt lucky to have been able to make it for the occasion. The light that I lit that night—the candles fixed on the barks of banana trunks—not only brightened the night, but also the soul and heart of ours. We were celebrating together after a long time. I could see smile on the lips of my parents. The smile that returned after a long time with the presence of their son was visible from far. The zeal and effort with which they welcomed the night of the occasion was in itself revealing the excitement that was accumulated within them. The night was cheerful. Each moment that consumed the occasion felt great. One thing I realized forever was the fact that family union is the greatest moment of life. I was overcome with sentiments.

Since the morning, wreaths of marigold and other species of flowers waited to be hung on the doors. Piece by piece, the flowers were joined by long threads and when the crepuscular evening presented, doors beamed with orange hue of marigold’s wreath. Neighborhood gleamed in the same way. Firecrackers were the sparkling and blasting in the infant darkness over the sky. I got overcome by all those gaps and the moments I missed and could feel the eyes get drenched. Perhaps that was the only moment I got to have that great feeling after growing up.

When I was kid, I never felt like I enjoyed. Perhaps I took things for granted as we usually do. I would feel like everything that came by was something that should do and therefore, never had as much excitement as I had after this long years. Absent had made the heart grow fonder. And the long gap created so many spaces to take everything that came by in a grand way.

That night I wanted to sing loud, speak to the world that I was happy, that I was there again. I wanted to let the neighborhood feel that we were enjoying as much as they. Like my parents were living in the village—only bride and the groom—the neighbors were no exception. In some homes, old couples, lit candles, welcomed Mata Laxmi—the goddess of wealth—to their house and, perhaps missed their children. I could read through the expression they exhibited that they were not as excited as they showed themselves to be. I could do nothing but empathize with them and their plight. I wondered then, did their sons and daughters missed the parents as much as they did! Did their sons and daughters wipe subtle tears as they did?

That night went by, next night, it was desushiri time.I went for singing desushiri. It was unplanned. It was never thought of. I had already made up my mind that I would spend my time with family. I wanted to hear other sing. I wanted to rejoice at others performance and once again delve myself into sentiments. I wanted to go back to my past when I lead a group of young youths into door to door singing. It was then, for money. It was for earning. At the recollection of those moments I felt like laughing. This time it was for entertainment. It was for living the moment and keep record of moment I enjoyed.

Indelible memories remain in my mind of that time. Unforgettable moments reside in me of those days. I have forever created a unique memory!