Sane Hopes

An Uncertain Journey

The lucid sky at night

Greets me.

And the full moon

Bewitches me even more.

The twinkling white stars

Show a true place for me to be.

The clear cyan sky

With the sun with its white rays,

Opens a way to a new beginning-

A way to truth,

A way to the world out there, where

true love and care exist.

A heart that can be trusted

Can receive rains of love.

Fruits of peace and friendship grow.

Who doesn’t know what is bad?

I want to be there.

I know its dreaming,

 But I will wait - for the hope of it.

Mad In States

Mad in States

Note: Live the life you love, don't just love the life you live. Many of us dream of going to or living in America and Australia; some people get the chance. A Bhutanese in the States has become American. He has forgotten his country's traditions and cultures, even its language and his own homeland. This poem asks: if everyone does this, will one day everyone in Bhutan become American, losing what it means to be truly Bhutanese? And who, then, is a Bhutanese?

To be an American
is easy to be.
It was a decade ago that he settled
in the land called a "flowery life"—
a dream of every Bhutanese,
but a few have fulfilled it,
and some have done even more.

He was born to a Ngalop family,
brought up, educated, and survived
up to fifty-seven years.
A man has a wish at this age!
His instincts and roots were Bhutanese,
and all his ways were too.
But one day, somehow, he got a chance.
He flew.

After decades in America,
he adapted to Americans.
He was an American.
Parents, relatives—all forgotten.
People, land,
mother tongue, religion,
all ways—forgotten.

"New age," where he lives—
he floats there,
lingering between two ways.
He is more inclined to the latter.
Bhutan does not exist on his mental map.
This is how a person changes his life.
But who am I?
Roots do not change.

On the tip of Americans' tongues,
he remains different—
not a "real" one.
Mongoloid, 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 a rushing hour is okay.

You Have All

The sun has the whole universe,

and you too have all-

the generosity, the merriment-

a man’s personality.

Joyful as always to a girl’s heart!

You are optimistic as you are,

and as powerful as a man needs to be.

Good in conversation and believing,

and sometimes in the life's keep gaps; independence,

Bother not what others do:

bother only what you do.

Self-praising hurts you at the end,

but sometimes it uplifts you.

You need that expectation.

Your future is as shiny as coral,

for you have everything

that a man sometimes doesn’t have:

character, the ability to build rapport, confidence, persuasiveness-

These will truly win you through life.

May god bless you, always.

And my wish is god’s wish.

THANK YOU

As I write today here, and as I write about my graduation and departure, all that comes to my mind is ‘Thank you,’ ‘Thank you,’ ‘Thank you.’ Today I write words of excitement and appreciation. Words devoted to many great souls. This short note is in honor of you all my professors and the life you all have made me. Truthfully, a million pages of gratitude are not enough. (See my Professors profile link:five-dons-of-aims )

I thank YOU ALL a million times, for what you have done is sometimes more than anything. When I first came to the literature class, I was nervous and skeptical, but there were just these huge abundance of fine people who helped me to get my groundings. Thank you all for teaching, thank you all for guiding, thank you all for showing a smooth path in reading literature. You have been my best friend, teacher, guide, and parent.

Teachers and students of the graduating cohort of 2013, thank you for all that you are and for all that you did, and for caring about us. We know your work is more to you than just a job, it is a calling, and for that, we are so grateful for your sacrifices.

I have learned to read better. I wouldn’t have understood the depth of literature; British lit, American lit, Indian lit, World lit, Criticism, linguistics, Post Colonial Studies, Teaching English Language and Literature, Gender, Communication, etc if it weren’t tutored by you all.

You all deserve a huge congrats and thanks. Who could forget our amazing trip? Who could forget our noisy class? Who could forget the charming and angry faces, where you got annoyed with too many works and responsibilities? 

There are many good things to be remembered…

I probably can’t thank you all enough.

Thank you for everything, my teachers.

I am happy because while I cannot take you all with me, I can at least keep the memories with me always in my heart.

Thank you very much, Mrs. Mamta, Mr. Prabha, Mr. Samuel, Mrs. Parveen, Mrs. Chitra, Mr. Umashankar, Ms, Charita, and others.

A Cohort of Graduate Students with some Lecturers.