The Wait

Two big WAITS have changed the course of my life. These waits have wet me in tears. The wait is the weight of my life. So please—don't say "wait." That word now gives me mild anxiety and a sudden urge to check my watch.

The first wait was when I liked a girl. She knew I loved her. I even sent her a chit—folded carefully, like a tiny paper airplane of hope. I waited for her reply. And she always told me to wait. I don't know why. Maybe she enjoyed watching me suffer. I waited with hopes and expectations for two years. And what did I get? She got married. Not to me. I WAITED FOR HER TO GET MARRIED. Quite funny, isn't it? Ha ha. Ow. This wait incident changed the course of my life—specifically, it taught me to never trust girls. Or chits. Or paper airplanes.

The second wait was when I missed an interview. My friend and I were walking to the interview. On the way, he stopped to smoke. Then again. And again. He puffed frequently, cutting down our time. Every time, I had to wait for him. We reached seven minutes late. Seven minutes changed seven generations of my beloved profession. The funny part? The friend was happy to reach late. He knew he wouldn't succeed in the interview anyway. Just surreal. This second wait too changed the course of my life—and my opinion of friends who smoke.

I soon made up my mind. Whenever I think of "wait," it kills me a little inside. So now I walk alone. I least bother about the decorum or the institutions of this life called living communities. I still walk alone. It is sad. A pitiful life, honestly. But at least no one asks me to wait while they light a cigarette.

However, the antimony of life—the strange contradiction—is another way round. And now, there are many things to wait for: waiting for my Bangalore exam result, waiting for houses to vacate, waiting for holidays to come. Wait… wait… things may come. But I wonder if they will turn out good or bad. Probably both. Probably at the same time.

Only yesterday, you (name withheld) said the same thing to me: "Wait." I have decided: all my waits will now become one big WAIT. I hope this third and last wait will be the one that finally arrives. I will wait. I will hope for the best. If not… well, I may have to wait my life here permanently. In which case, please send snacks.

On Her Majesty’s Birthday(May You Be Blessed)

The Queen of Bhutan

We are lucky to be born in a country called "Shangri-La," and even luckier to be led by a king with a handsome and beautiful mind—His Majesty King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck. The King's marriage to Jetsun Pema is an adornment to the country. It is indeed a momentous union of true harmony, destined by time. The King and Queen married on 13 October 2011 at Punakha Dzong.

Queen Jetsun Pema was born in Thimphu on 4 June 1990. The Bhutanese people adore her simple and calm manner. She listens to the sufferings and problems of ordinary people and supports them. She is an ideal queen—a mother of Bhutan, an advisor, and a guide. With her great love and affection, she guides Bhutan toward modernity without sacrificing our great traditions. She thinks and acts on life as it is lived in a simple society. The Queen travels with His Majesty to many parts of Bhutan, mingling with her subjects, and this shows her grace and caring attitude toward our citizens. This love and care for every individual Bhutanese makes us feel safe, happy, and comfortable.

It was a great day when you were born. As we celebrate your birthday, we also celebrate the anniversary of your arrival in this world—and how you made it a better, happier place for us. The fourth of July is a great day to keep alive. Let the golden rays of the sun and moon reach you with wishes of success, happiness, and prosperity. Happy Birthday.

And thank you for having a birthday, and for giving us a reason to thank you. Thank you for being a wonderful person and an inspiration all along, all the time.

Their Majesties met the earthquake victims in Eastern Bhutan and Haa, the fire victims in Bumthang, and the windstorm victims in Trashigang and Pemagatshel—the problems of yesteryears. The people were given what they needed in life and brought back to normalcy. Thank you for these.

Long may our land be bright. Long may we celebrate in prosperity and jubilation, leading toward a common destination: Gross National Happiness. We stand strong and stable without any hesitation because we live under a King and Queen who are very friendly and helpful—the jewels of our country. Thank you for these.

The sincere, constructive, and assiduous King and Queen, with their good personalities, will play a role alongside an equally energetic elected Prime Minister. We hope to see Bhutan rise heroically and unimaginably as one of the best countries in the world.

These are the hopes of the people and the royal couple.

Thanking you.

May you be blessed.

The Mistaken Identity

Look around you. There is nothing without some Chinese stuff. The Chinese are everywhere—they have reached every nook and cranny of the world. Chinese food, Chinese cuisine (yes, that's two ways of saying the same thing, but it's worth repeating), Chinese gadgets, Chinese blankets, commodities, goods—everything. It has reached places where Chinese people themselves have not set foot. China has dominated the market and the pockets of the world.

Here in Bangalore, and particularly where I am living, Chinese people are rare—despite their country having the world's largest population. There may be political reasons. China and India. Not exactly best friends. The point is, the people are not seen like their goods are seen. They are so rare that many people have asked me—many times—"Are you from China?" I wanted to answer by saying, "Only a Chinese can be everywhere." But instead, I blurted out quietly, unheard by them, "Do you think I am a dominator?"—because, as we all know, the Chinese have dominated the world. I have a Chinese-like face, but my ways and manners are somewhat different. Since I wear jeans and shirts, perhaps they think I am a little un-Bhutanese. Or perhaps they think Bhutan is a district of China. Geography is not everyone's strong suit.

Only yesterday, a group of my new friends asked me the same question. I laughed at them for not knowing about our countries, and the laughter even reached my Adam's apple—but it melted there with this: "Are you from Mars?" Sometimes, people behave as if they are completely alien. And I say that with love. Mostly.

The way they write our country's name makes me feel weird: "Butan"—very short indeed. Our Dolly-Jolly madam, Chitra Das Gupta, also calls me someone from "Butanic," a very unusual name, madam! Butanic sounds like a new brand of organic tea. Anyway, I always have a good time explaining my country, Bhutan—its history, cultures, traditions, attitudes, manners, thinking, and so on—and how it differs especially from China and others. Blah, blah. But happy blah.

For many strangers who have little or no knowledge of my country, I have become a real representative of my nation. Ah-ha! Representative of the country! No salary, but plenty of responsibility. I describe Bhutan as next to heaven and everything perfect. Sometimes, I sound too chauvinistic and patriotic—especially when they see some Bhutanese hanging around with wine in Bangalore. "This is your country?" they say. I have no choice but to counter the Indians: "They have been influenced by where they are living." Not a good excuse, I guess. This answer really makes them crazy. You can almost see the smoke coming out of their ears.

I usually conclude by saying that we are in the same boat—to balance the weight of nationalism, of course. Same boat, different oars, but at least nobody is rowing alone.

The Crush

Think not and say:

Who were we before?
Assuming life with many pretensions—
this loneliness and longing kill slowly.

Going along with this assumed decorum,
this will and self-willedness—
fed up with these restraints of life.
Let's do away.
Live, and like.



The other day, friends told
the same, same story:
"To be what you are not—
as faltering, is this life?"
They don't falter at small restraints,
walk triumphant walks.
Live and have,
and have and live.



I told them: I've a crush on someone,
and as a natural tendency,
shower unnatural feelings.
They told me: think not, act more.
Was the help not in their hands?

Yes. I think more and act less.
That's how I have a mundane life.
All is false in love—
for there is nothing wrong with loving.
This freak makes me weak.
I'm afraid I'll crash my own life,
the quick and deep.



Oh, come on, dear—
life is the same series.
Act away from trivial-trifling matter,
keep us going
with sparks.

Everyone will have a crush on someone, and it’s certain to human feelings; to love and appreciate someone. The poem asks the lover to get away with the decorum or institutions of what is called identity, live unbounded from the societies, and do whatever a mind says. Sounds like Andrew Marvell’s poem, "To His Coy Mistress," to "seize the day" - to make the most of today and not put off action until tomorrow.