Why Are You Reminded After a Long Time?

People say take stuff as it comes on the way; time is the only solution. I know this now! Sitting near the laptop, I feel like some flickering parts of my life have shattered and the darkness has ascended. A swamp of memories rush in upon me of long struggles; my afflictions, my wasted life, and my moments of loneliness. Now, I feel very hurt but I keep back those bad memories and thoughts to myself. A shameful consciousness of my own person harasses me. I see myself as clownish, the pitiable guy in a glimpse in the reflection. But I have learned to shake off myself free of it and continue to caress my life. And I question now, why I had been so different and hesitant?
               
It was an awful empty day. The days were the longest and saddest of my life. That wasn’t before she ditched me like a duster.

She was so incredibly stunning. Central of bait to many people like me, who had fallen and were victims of love. I played a little role in her life. She fooled me staying around all my life. I began to sink further into the bleak of silent love, the more I watched, the more I despised my weakness. She tormented my thinking; never let me into good slept, visions and images filled all around me.

There were many students I could name them, who looked physically fine looking to my eyes, but her history told me that she had never accepted any one of them. She was viewed as an extravagant girl.

What happened when one loves someone? It was a kind of ambivalent feeling; I both hated and loved her, what was more? She was charming and gracious. Love was nothing to do with wealth and fame or beauty. It would simply happen. Loving her would love everything if only I had her!

I wonder how these beautiful ladies react when they get too much attention and loving sweet smiles. How do they take in and feel with it? I guess, they would be flying high in the space. I knew some ladies simply stab it in the heart with a sweet poisoned knife, shattered green hearts, speak out the cruelest words, break hearts into pieces, and move away silently. And guys dissolve into unpredicted works; drinking, drugs, quarrellings, going mad, attempting suicide, and more unsay-able acts.

These were some of my reasons that made me petrified and regretful.

In the college, I would wait, however, timing the moment when I could pass her on the stairs and gulp, “Good morning.” And she would answer cheerfully, “Good morning.”
And that was all that ever passed between us.

Women are like empty pots, waiting for the fillers. They need three sweetening rubbish reasons to fill them and make feel wanted and happy.

Watching her everywhere, anyplace, anywhere, she would laugh with her friends, roam with many boyfriends. Her heaven walked the space she occupied. But she, yes She, the girl whom I loved so much was ignorant of my presence. “Does she know if someone loved her?” I often asked that. The refusal was the most horrible drug. In my thoughts, I would have done everything with her. Je ne sais quoi was she!

My tortured soul told me, “Hold her in now in arms and never let go.” But it wasn’t worth it. She must have a choice of her own, too. I was shilly-shallied.

“Will she makes a choice a man who he loves very much?” I wondered. At all cost, I was away from her until and unless she wanted to see me. If not, I would only suffer.




Two years later, she came to meet me. I saw her again, looking sadden and worried. My mouth was opened wide when she greeted me lovingly. I busted into a sly smile. My mind said, “How many years must she want to make me suffer? Anyway, all love never leads to married life. True, love lasts forever- as long as you find another true love.”

The karma might have, it did not come to me at that moment. When she put her hand on my shoulder and closed her eyes and asked, “Are you married?”
I couldn’t answer her. Although, my heart was brimming over with happiness. Just when I was wishing for it so much, she had come to me of her own accord.
It was the best and the worst thing happening in my life.
“Why?” I asked.
“He left me and he is dead now!”
“Somebody you were in love with?” I asked her dryly.
A wave of dull anger begun to gather at the back of my mind.
“Yes, a year back when he left me and home cause of some quarrals, on his way his car went off the road. I think he died because of me.”
Choking with some sobs, she was overcome by her emotions as she dropped down onto my knees.
Raged. A huge rush of thunderstorm raced in my blood.
“Will you kill me too? Do you think I’m a fool-spoiled brat? Do you think I’m your second man-to come and drive whenever you like?” I said into the voidness. She didn’t hear.

So she had had that romance in her life; a wealthy man died because of her sake. It pained to consider how poor a part I had played in her life. NO, not supposedly, it is the biggest role I played in her life.

The lady i had longed for so many years had vanished in just a second. On the other hand, her girlish beauty had almost gone. But my past feeling towards her cooled the thunderstorm raging inside. One by one, they all became shades, and then faded like the dying embers of the fire. Soon generous tears filled my eyes. “Did she know what am I going through all those longed years?”

I was modestly taken by love. It poisoned, most probably by her beautiy. I ask her happily, “Sorry, what can I do for you”.
“I knew you for so many years that you wish to live with me,” she said in a remote tone. “I am sorry I ignored you. But why didn’t you tell me the day you loved me?”
The last sentence seemed to hurt. “Only I was diffident and could not approach her lead to a story and a wasted life. I regretted.” It rang in my mind.
“Yes now, I shouldn’t refuse you, I need you. I should not blame you for it was the only love, Choden.”I told her.

Trembled and with a mixture air of delight and sadness, I stood close to her. She put her hands on my shoulder and at her sudden hug; I had fallen to her so easily.


But the story I never asked my wife now is about that wealthy lover who died for her sake. How long will it continue like this? In fact, to our very last breathe. Because if you dig the decayed stool, it smelled a lot.




Note: This story is a seemingly reflection of one of my friends and my own in some parts.

A Wise Voice

I may not look like the son of King Jigme Singye Wangchuck

But I have some personalities like him

And have the power over my soul

I may not be the brightest bulb in a group

But I can light through

To walk ourselves

I may not have the heart of Lord Buddha

But I have feelings and sympathies

And a virtuous heart

I may not speak gracefully as you wish

But I have a wise voice

Listen to what I say, not how I say

I may not be strong like John Cena

But I can hold you when you fall

And fight till I cannot move

I may not have a sumptous three square meals

But I have a heart that can be trusted

A love that will keep us alive

A smile to keep you happy

I may do something you don’t like

I may have asked you to care for me

But in the end

I care you more than anything in the world

Happiness is the Gift of Life

We celebrated International Happiness Day on 20^th March. To mark this, I have a very short story told by my mother. I have briefed it here: In one urban center, let's say, Thimphu, there lived two boys; one was from a rich family and the other from a poor family. One common thing they had was undying friendship, they were friends. Rich had everything, poor nothing, except his kind parents and two brothers. Likewise, the rich boy had parents and three brothers.

One day the poor boy visited the rich boy’s house, and he saw that the rich boy’s family was not very happy. Each member did their own work. Brother busied himself with computer- playing games. Mother was playing card games with a group of men and other children were fighting, and the father was quarreling with mother. The house was not clean. The poor boy was not even asked to sit. Although they had everything, they didn’t have happiness. The house was in mess. When the poor boy came back, he was heavy-hearted, he learned one thing, and although he had nothing in his home he had happiness. His family stayed happily. They shared everything together. The house was filled with care and love. It was a cleaned house. It was a happy family and a happy home. The poor boy understood one thing then, that happiness was the gift in life, given by god to them. And there was nothing better than happiness in life.

Songing Heart

The best music touches deep into our hearts. It keeps alive—and kicks—the sorrows and depressions of life. Sometimes it kicks a little too hard, but that's what friends and volume buttons are for.

I love blues music. Real blues songs. The kind that feels like a warm hug from a sad person. Sentimental and jazzy. Pure music—no hip-hop, no big-bang, no sharp pop that hurts my aging ears. I am a simple guy who came from an "Aamo Chi lay" backdrop. That's village talk for "I used to chase chickens for fun."But to be frank, some music didn't fascinate me. It sounded like two people talking over each other at a busy tea shop. Back in the 1990s, radio was the main source of music. I knew all the timings of radio shows—BBS, AIR, VOI, BBC, Shillong broadcast, and others. I had a mental schedule more accurate than a train timetable. Then, my brother gave me his tape recorder. That was life-changing. I started buying audio cassettes and listening until the batteries gave up—usually right in the middle of the best song. Elton John, Savage Garden, Ronan Keating,  

 I also love singing. I used to pick up my bass guitar and rock on the stage, most of the time unprepared. I vividly remember singing the song, “Tears in Heaven,” for my late brother, Sonam, “If Tomorrow Never Comes,” and others. But now, I sing in the toilet; nobody would listen to a husky old voice these days.

It's ME, singing "If Tomorrow Never Comes." Tomorrow comes if you believe...

So I have listened to most English songs worth listening to. The Beatles—"Let It Be" is one of my favorites. Eagles' "Love Will Keep Us Alive" (spoiler: it does, but tea helps too). George Michael's "Careless Whisper" (I still can't play the sax solo, but I try in my head). Bryan Adams, Police, Celine Dion (yes, I admit it), Spice Girls (tell me you didn't zig-a-zig-ah), Mariah Carey (I can't hit those notes, but neither can anyone else), Stevie Wonder's "I Just Called to Say I Love You" (he called. I listened.), Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up" (I feel raised, then immediately lowered when I try to sing along), Elton John, Savage Garden, Ronan Keating, Backstreet Boys—I could go on, but you get the idea. I was musically fed. I also love singing. I used to pick up my bass guitar and rock on stage—most of the time unprepared. That's called "confidence" or "poor planning." I vividly remember singing "Tears in Heaven" for my late brother, Sonam, and "If Tomorrow Never Comes" for... well, just in case. But now? Now I sing in the toilet. Nobody wants to hear a husky old voice these days. The walls don't complain. The mirror doesn't judge. The toilet tank even provides a little reverb. It's my concert hall now. Small, private, and well-ventilated. So yes, it's ME, singing "If Tomorrow Never Comes." Tomorrow comes if you believe. And if you don't, it comes anyway—just with more bills. I remember the first album I bought was of Modern Talking. And their songs still keep me high and alive today. This German duo is my favorite. Don't laugh. They were kings of synthpop before you were born. Songs like "You Can Win If You Want," "You're My Heart, You're My Soul," "Cheri Cheri Lady," "Brother Louie," and "Give Me Peace of Love" still keep me mesmerized and humming—sometimes in the shower, sometimes in traffic, sometimes during staff meetings (silently, of course).

They are the best songs I have ever had in my life. The song "You Can Win If You Want" keeps me moving forward. Whenever life pushes me down, I hear that synth intro in my head and suddenly feel like I can conquer the world—or at least finish my grading. I think this song is a story about our life. The journey we make where nobody knows the destination. Try listening to them. They are the best—though yes, a little bit synthpop, a little bit cheesy, a little bit 1980s haircut. But it's worthwhile and melodious. It teaches so many good things about life. Empathy, love, care—and quite heart-rendering songs, as I call them (they render my heart useless for hours). I often listen now and cry out, remembering my past days. The good ones. The bad ones. The ones where I had hair. Modern Talking still talks to me. And I answer—usually off-key, usually in the toilet, but always from the heart.

Modern Talking (google images)