Mad In States

Mad in States

Live the life you love, not love the life you live. Many of us dream of going to or living in American and Australia; some people have a chance. A Bhutanese in States has become an American. He has forgotten his country’s traditions and cultures, even language and his own country. The poem asks if everyone does like this, one day everyone in Bhutan will become American, losing real Bhutanese, or who is a Bhutanese?

To be an American

Is an easy to be;

It was a decade ago, he settled

In the land called a ‘flowery life.’

A dream of every Bhutanese,

But a few fulfilled and some more than it.

He was born to a Ngalop’s family

Brought up, educated and survived

Up to fifty seven years,

A man has a wish at this age!

His instinct and roots were Bhutanese

And all his ways

One day, but, somehow he got a chance,

He flew.

After decades in America

He adapted Americans

He was an American.

Parents, relatives, all forgotten;

People, land

Mother’s tongue, religions,

All ways, forgotten.

‘New age,’ where he lives

He floats there

Lingering in-between two ways

He is more incline to a later one.

Bhutan does not exist in his mind’s map,

This is how a person change his life

Who am I?

Root doesnt change.

On the tip of Americans’ mouth

He remains a different,

not a ‘real’ one;

Mongoliod, Dravidian, or Arabian?

Variant cultures in America

And the buoyant life floated with riches.

One does care,

And who cares of life-

The root?

To have rushing hour is okay.