Being Patience

Within a year in Bangalore, I have learned more one thing, that is to be patient – an ability to wait, most presumably. I have learned that life is not all about me. I have learned to look inwards, not outwards. I have learned to be patient with impatient people. I have grown up, horizontally and diametrically, probably!

I have a few friends who are impatient, and are arrogant, insensitive, and impulsive which even affect relationships altogether. Maybe, on the other hand, I am not getting any younger, I tend to resist everything; get angry slower or often never at all, have the patience to wait, be patient to oppose points, and etc. Previously, I was a patient of patience. I was in emotional upheavals trying to change others before I changed myself. Now I have submitted under patience. Everything changes me, bringing me in order to a circle of the best humanity! I feel I am following one of the principles practices of the Buddha. To have patience is to have respect. I am viewed positively by many friends recently.

I feel the patience can be controlled by letting go of any troubles/impatience completely, absolutely, totally; with no feeling but moving forth. If there isn't anything to resolve, just let it go.  It’s possible, and it's the only healthy thing to do. Accepting the twist and turns in life gracefully keeps my dreams realistic. Life is not always a race but the journey to be watched every step of the way. Patience works in terms of anger, nervousness, tension, or anxiety.

I have changed my attitude and the way I looked at life. I have always tried to have a positive outlook on life. Being always positive is very imperative as possessing a sense of patience.

Once I was like a horrid river, rushing through hills or plans hurriedly, not hinting to any speaker. I was on my own way. My students checked my patience so many times and the result was they got black and blue. I vividly remember picking up a log and raining on their backs. I regret now and feel sorry for losing such behaviors and being so crude and wild. Wilder than the hot dogs. Sorry and sorry seems to be the cruelest word now.

My child has also tested my real patience. My anger changed into passive observer and did what he liked to do let it go. I have developed an ability to tolerate and persevere when things got tough within us. I have become a little anxious about how to keep calm. And I kept. Thank you my dear son for teaching me forbearance and serenity in life.

My wife has also trimmed me down to a better person; a sort of passionate person is who I have become. Otherwise, I used to rant and rave and nag more than many women would have done. Now I am a cool lover of everything.

I can now tolerate many things. I have learned these through many means; patience in anger, patience in sadness, happiness, loneliness, and through every person in the walk of my life. This patience has helped me to endure any tribulation, no matter how long-lasting or difficult. On the other hand, it reduces my stress levels and improves my health and wealth, I feel so, and being able to have patience makes me happier. Thinking about the positive effects of patience kills impatience.

So, patience is persistence. It takes time and it takes effort. We are so accustomed to anger that we find the natural state of patience to be quite strange. However, impatience is outside value that we have but patience is an intrinsic value we have in all of us. We can change.

I would like to let loose my patience to write further with this thought from Lao Tzu, “I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures.”

The Truth Is

From Google

Dear my beloved

I asked you to care for me

But the truth is; I care about you more than 

anything in the world

I asked you to love me

But the truth is; I love you more than 

anything in the world

Dear, you are my all, my everything.

The Chuzom

Last time, on the way to Paro, I sneaked out from my car for some minutes to see the Chuzom. I was defiled to see these two rivers. Do they have clear-cut and clear-up times?  It’s, I would say, a big ‘NO’ and a small ‘yes’ because we humans are the tragic villains in their lives. Anyways, the Thimchu and Pachu are the Phochu and Mochu of Punakha. They are the plaything and beautiful design of God.

The Chuzom

Coming from the clear cavities

Glaciers of Tibet and Jomolhari

The calm Chus of Thimphu and Paro

Meet at Chuzom

Like lovers long decided.

I stand on Chuzom confluence

And asked what have you brought for your lover?

As they both come from the wealthiest Dzongkhags.

They tickle only a clatter

And move on;

Carrying the specter of urban decay and death

A stagnant slate of all sorts and sizes

Of unwanted items;

Plastics, papers, tins, rubbers, bones, vegetable covers,

All. Their faces were tainted with greases and oils

They move on uncomplaining

Oh…no…

Coming from the rich places

What have I to give you?

The two forces strengthen at Chuzom

and the zeal moves on;

Crossing violence and serenities without a sojourn

To the destination, they run together

Collecting what they required not,

Their only goal is to the limitless sky of the ocean

Like the grave is only for a man.

The Wonderla Trip

So far, I have made two short trips in Bangalore: One with my classmates on 12^th May - visited three legendary temples in Belur, Halebeedu, and Shravanabelagola about 222kms from Bangalore. These places were very impressive historical temples. (For more info click: http://saachad9.blogspot.in/2012/05/trip.html).

And another trip was on 23^rd August with some Bhutanese students to Wonderla. Wonderla is no wonder place to be if you are physically crippled and handicapped. Anyways, we were not so. We just paid re. 590/- as entry fees, and inside, all games are free! There are almost 60 different types of nerve-racking distractors, which are worth playing. It is really an amusement park with lots of entertainment, from land attractions to sky attractions. There are dungeon rides, wonder splash, insanity, carousal, wave pool, and a lazy river for active people to name a few.

I am posting some photos with some flippant descriptions.

Caution: If you want to use the images, please ask, don’t steal.

Journey to Wonderlaaa… a snapped from the car. Country road, take me home, to the place, where I …???

So it was the beginning… near the wonderla’s entrance. We took our first group photograph. That guy in a black shirt is looking for a cat. Ouch! And where is meee...? An old fox…at the extreme corner. Who is that man, he is up to necking in my three beloved!!!

Aahhaa…a singing lady pig!

Can you see a hanging monkey? Don’t hang around like the monkey, it’s just water. Water pendulum.

One of the high thrill rides. It is called Y-scream. It shakes you and mixes you like a blender. Do you know why it is called Y-scream? Because the clock is almost ticking to 12 below the sky wheel. It is the coming of the letter Z , the end!

Kwality or quality ice cream??? Foods in moving stalls. They say, they sell in MRP, but MRP has double once it has reached from the outside market. Cheee…aateeerrrrrsssss.

Coaster ride train tracks. This was the only game I liked the most; slow ride uphill and fast downhill ride- splashing. The journey of life is such; uphill and downhill. And this is the lesson I learned from there, uh, so early .

So this is the wonder splash--wooden train/boat.  Spot me...holding on tight. We used to make this type of boats-by chopping woods during cattle herding days. But I never thought it would come to life like this.



Two and two make-s…uhah…three?... Four? …No. Let me count from the very beginning. But I don't wanna see those boys' bums!



Azzai woy! The house of ghosts. Termite coaster and train inside, but there isn’t a single live termite inside. Then what type of termite is this? Just a human termite like me and the cement termite. Can you see that stomach piles coming out from the disfigured house? The piles were taken out from the Bhutanese girls. The fact is seen of a girl's bum slashing scathingly.

Look…look…LOOK…Here are monkeys. Who cares to look at these funky monkeys?

Crazy Wagon ready to chuff. See the barrels of vintage. All drivers would drink from the huge barrel and drive. No drink drive please!!!

Digestive systems like - water plus slides are called banded kraits. Looks like it’s made of balloons. But it's not.

Swisssshh…swisssshh. Fun racers and boomerang; it’s treacherous and double-edged. I didn’t play here. Everything fast doesn’t suit me at least. I’m a slow, steady…wins the race!!!



Do you know? In Bhutan, every year more than five people die from eating mushrooms? And these mushrooms would kill hundreds.

Wave pool where I spent most of the time here. You just need no energy; the waves lift you up and throw you here and there.

A bird’s eye view of wonderla. Suck wonderla, it’s the place for foxy foxes and mentally loose screws!

Come on boys. Let’s fight a cockfight? The show has end.  No, says Sonam. Let's see girls...

And girls... Beautiful ladies in wonderland. I envy them. I almost had a crush on a lady. If they know that I have a crush on them, I would be crushed into pieces. Because I was never a lady's man, I am dumbfounded dummy in front of them and they would mistake me as dazed and daft, who would go on staring and staring to the wrong place, hehe…

And it ends with the song, a very traditional old Bhutanese song. Aeeayaa Gasalamya Singyee Choe… and the mike, you know, see the hands, f**k you!

Cautionary note again: If you want to use the images, please ask, don’t steal.

The Long Boredom

Silently, silently in the night

What am I doing?

Lying on my bed

I can only see the moon

Through my pan

You are far

but still warms me.

Now the moon has slowly moved behind the clouds

Leaving me alone, alone

How can be the night?

No night, no night

No evening, no evening

I am dying

When it comes every time

Thinking of visions

The faces of you

On my bed.

Show me the moon again.

My Agay’s Happiness

A happy person has a happy life.  A happy person is one who has fulfilled his unfulfilled dreams.  A happy person has fewer wants and he honorably stops his desire at one point.

The best example of a happy person was my late Agay. I didn’t see my Agay but I learned from my father that my Agay was a happy person. He had nothing but cheerful smiles on his lips, always.

“What makes him put a smile on his face every time?” I asked my father.

“It is nothing but happiness,” my father said.

One morning, my young Agay went to his neighbor’s house with his white teeth visible even from another hill.  What nonsense is my Agay to smile himself! And guessed what he did inside the neighbor’s home, he comforted the sad girl with his smiles. He won the love of the girl through his smile. And my Agay was the happiest person to beget her.

During my school days, I wrote many essays on a happy person. “The men who live happily make others happy. They are kind and friendly with others. They never hurt others and think bad about others. They don’t push their time back or forth, they exist in the present with lots of vigor, energy, contentment and peace. Those who are rich are not happy because their want and need are more. They always live in tenses and problems… and blah blah.”

Looking to some of my points above, now, my Agay fitted in very much or largely there. My Agay did the right in the right order to his future wife. I can imagine my Agay in his best positive values. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he behaved, would have always impressed others. He would have been called a laughing Buddha. Besides, he also sang distorted religious hymns that would distract his wife with laughter every so often. His face would have been always bright and would have never shown the darker slices of life. His truthfulness was the weapon behind the smile. His choices were less. He took less and gave more to his wife, I suppose.

“There was happiness in the past then?” I asked my father, who looked grim comparing his life with his father’s life.

“Now everybody is happy, and no time for unhappiness for myself. This GNH sucks!” My father covetously said.

Anyway, there is a truth in this Alexander Pope’s words, “Happy the man whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air in his own ground.” And such was my Agay’s life, hard but happy. 

Buncoing Buyers

Bangalore is said to be the most expensive metropolis in India and is the home of millions. It’s a hustle and bustle city. Everything is lively, and there is no dearth of everything. You name it and you’ll get it. What matters is money? There is no dearth of anything, and people want it all; goods, transports, multi-cuisines, cheaters(Indian cheaters/buncos-- difficult to trust any Indian; be it poor or rich, low or high – they only want money) fruits, everything. People want it and they get it all. Anytime, anywhere.

Here in Bangalore, everything sells like hotcakes. You may go to the smallest shop and you will get surprised to see the shop buzzing with customers, and the climax of the story is in the big malls, dashing and pushing that make shopping lucrative. A little bit of monkey business is everybody, every day’s cup of tea. Today, I bought 1 kg of mango for rs.40. This is the season of mangos here-different types of mangos; round, small, big, sweet, sour, etc…you name it, there itis. I don’t care the name of mangos but their lushness/sweetness is all I mind. After buying a kg, I went to next vendors, which he willingly offered me the same size and the same brand for rs.30. I was buncoed. Such a gig. They would sell out everything for money.

The reason why things sell like hot cakes in Bangalore is because of the large population. Mind that in rush hours, people look like ants. Besides this, there are so many mixed populations from around the world. One thing I notice is that merchants are very lazy in Bangalore; the reason may be too many customers that keep them kind of fed up with works.

Back in Bhutan, my sister has a small shop. It’s located in Denchi, Pema Gatshel. She told me that she bought things for sale only to be expired. There is no buyer. And recently, losing hope, she shifted her shop from Denchi to her village. “Is it better?” I asked. “I am hoping, but now it’s worst than the previous,” she told me worriedly. I mentioned to her that this hope and expectation will lead you to poverty. I hope she understands it.

In Bhutan, we have dearth of people and thereby having fewer buyers. Our population is scattered and separated by valleys and mountains, and some handful of people live there and most of them are self-sufficient. Good, self-sufficient. If not, we produce nothing, and if we depend on shops like Bangalorien, there is little source to get money.