Rain of Bliss

                                                                                    #5

After much deprivation,

Rain falls

A shower to clean earth;

Everyone is happy and merry

Everyone shows teeth

They come out to receive the first fall,

To get awash is their fondness.

Everywhere,

 As far I could see, is rejoicing,

After the long drought sweltering;

Air-gusted sandy,

Plants wilted the flowers in the buds,

Animals and birds wondered-away,

Dejected pathetic people had calamitous living!

Now, in the rain everyone seems exulted

The rainfalls,

Like cheerful tears from the eyes.

Leaves dance on the dripping of the rain,

Countable animals expose in the meadows to drench,

 Dancing clouds shroud the valleys,

The dusty earth sprinkle wet

Some say it’s ‘holy grail.’

Well, the rain mop baths,

The place has rejuvenated.

The Sound of Musing

Silence has internal silence that keeps the soul with so many muses. These muses are sounds of existence; bad or good. Silence with thoughts and speeches without meaning is what animals live.

 #4 

I am an ear,

My mind’s radar.

I am all ears:

In silence.

The wind has a voice.

It rustles, it whispers,

It is understood,

Speaking of wasteland

Rejuvenated,

Of rivers running clear,

Of myriad darkness revealed.

I hear pleasant songs

Of everything;

Still the world’s

Not so nice for me.

I lie down lonely to sleep.

While walking on

Meadows green,

I fall from vertigo to grief.

Is it the lack of lucre?

No, more want of wit.

Is it the fear of death?

Not at all!! Cheerless faith.

I am an ear,

Auditory organ,

Buffeted by sound,

Touching my thinking.

And this is the life I lead:

Animal existence.

A Heaven in the Soul

The place I live is called heaven;

And they called me the God

Who is the God?

I said, “Everyone is so.”

Unrelieved, they shouted at me

“Who are you?”

“I am just like you.”

“No.”

To live and to be

To LIVE in the world is different

As every individual is, so.

We live a hell-like;

I have no fog in the mind

Not a cog in the machine,

I go for clear and virtuous mind and heart;

a soul of heaven;

A soul to proliferate this.

My House

My house at my village in pemagatshel is almost 60 years old. It singularly stands near a forest in Labar. This is the house where my parents are living, and we were all brought up. It is a huge house with three-storied stone, wood, and mud built. Though, there was no iron pillar as such in it, it stood against any kind of natural calamities like earthquakes and soil erosions just beside the house. Earlier than, the soil erosion tried to erode beside our house many times, but after having built layers of wall and planted trees; it is now a matter of talk. My father said that it was also struck by an earthquake several times, but not a stone came down. It is as it was before. I like my house. I wonder how my parents could have built a huge and strong house. It must have been very hard work for them during the 1960s. My father was said to have brought carpenters and workers from Assam. I guess this is his engineering and design as it looks like one of the best Bhutanese houses. Because of this house, my father was known to be the wealthiest in the Gewog, and is also known to many people in the Dzongkhag. He was and is. Now I look back at this house with lots of pride and respect. This was and is my house, my temporary house, just like my late brother Sonam, who left this house, I too have to leave…to my permanent house…where? Too sad.

Here are some photos of my house which I clicked last time from my mobile.

Front view

Side view