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.

Coming Home

Come 17th July, I am going home. I am completing my MA course, and I am finishing with a first-class result. I tried to be the best, and I achieved it. Literature is tough. Rote learning still matters here.

Anyway, I have longed for this. Come what may, I wouldn't turn back to this place. I have had enough of everything—or rather, of nothing here. I simply feel jaded. I will return to my everyday business: teaching in Bhutan. I love teaching; it is my life. I feel a kind of true satisfaction, happiness, and joy when I see my students flying higher than me and swinging through their lives. One of my intentions as a human being is to help better others' lives. I contribute a little—a pinch of salt—to make life taste better. Now, I think I will be able to help anyone more with my advanced skills and knowledge. I will try, and I will not let anyone down.

Here is a song: Chris Daughtry's "Home." I love this song. My son and I often play and sing it while driving. My dear son, your papa is coming home. Let's sing. This is our home. Let's sing together before we go to our permanent home.

Home

I'm staring out into the night,
Trying to hide the pain.
I'm going to the place where love
And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

Well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
Well I'm going home.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,
The closer I get to you.
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.
But your love remains true.
And I don't know why.
You always seem to give me another try.

So I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,

Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all,
And then some you don't want.
Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all, yeah.

Oh, well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old.
I said these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
I'm going home.

Give, and you Shall be Given Kick.

If you give anything for free, you will be misrepresented and wronged someday. I have learned this the hard way: free without heart kills. DPT is right in some ways. Go on banning Druk Prohibition Party (DPT)—if you win next time, that is. No pressure.

Sometimes, religious philosophies mislead you. The religions say, "Give, and it shall be given to you" (Luke 6:38), and "Give to those needy poor" (a common Buddhist saying). The truth is, everyone needs. The rich need to get richer, and the poor are battling to become richer. So where does that leave the rest of us?

Give? I bet these human species will not give you back. They have learned to take and forget good deeds faster than a dog forgets who fed it. I have never heard of anyone who got so much free just like that without something going wrong. This "freeness" creates misapprehension in relationships too. Because of giving, I lost many people in my life. One was a relative who smilingly borrowed Nu. 10,000. Later, he stopped talking to my family. Apparently, silence is cheaper than repayment.

I have had many grave experiences like this. There was this boy—a crook with a grouchy mouth and a habit of showing very bad behavior. I taught him for free many times. I expected nothing, but I was afraid of kicks. The Bhutanese have a saying: if you raise a horse, you will only get kicks. Well, I raised a donkey. The next time he asked me again—because I have a job too, not a money tree. He became so dependent and so lazy that he couldn't even read a single line from a book. The more I told him to learn and improve, the more dependent he became. He wouldn't listen. That's how he got angry. Now, I am considered mean and selfish. He gets me wrong, and I find myself in the most awkward predicament. And guess who ends up in trouble? Not him. Me. Always me.

Last time, we had a guest lecture, and it was free. Nobody attended because it was free. Free seems to be worthless sometimes. The Sharchop word for free is "Tongpa," which literally means nothing—empty. 

This freeness has become an impediment to a peaceful life. Everything in life doesn't come free as we think. Everything is cost-effective. It's do and get, pay and receive—not always receiving. Learn to give back. The receiver becomes lazy and dependent. The Buddhist teaching says that to reach an enlightened state, and if you want to see the door of heaven, you must not search for and receive free things, but submit to gain freedom. Or maybe just submit to working for a living.

In giving anything free, I feel we must take some considerations into account. Here is my list, based on my own painful experience:

1. Why are you giving it for free? (Are you stupid or just nice?)
2. How to give it? (With conditions, hopefully.)
3. What will be the consequences? 
4. What is your future position? (Probably broke and bitter.)
5. Give only twice or thrice, and you will know the person. If you give every time, you are a fool. A generous fool, but still a fool.

I support DPT for their forceful and valid way of banning many things to bring the country back on track. Go on, DPT. And PDP (People's Dead Party, as I like to call them) farcically gives deadly attacks and deadly promises to kill DPT's banning. Here's a small—and favorite—joke of mine. Prime Minister Jigme Y. Thinley (JYT) proudly declared in one gathering before the 2008 election in Nanong that there are three "JIGMEs" in Bhutan, and the country may not function if two are missing: the Big Jigme (the King), the Small Jigme (JYT), and the Smaller Jigme (JD), who is not in the picture. The survival of the Smaller Jigme makes me laugh. That poor fellow survives his life beating his goat skin-coated dramnyen (Bhutanese guitar). Rock on, Smaller Jigme.

That autocratic statement by JYT to the Bhutanese media was really striking and strong. (Click for more info, The Bhutanese.) He warned media house owners and accused the media of creating disharmony and spoiling the country's image. The DPT President said, "I will not leave you." I am with him. The media will become strong. Facts and concrete proof will be reported. The freedom of the press doesn't mean they have the freedom to give false information or news to the public. In a free society—and especially under democratic rule—we should not take offense at our beliefs or wrongs being criticized. That is the hallmark of a healthy, vibrant democracy.

However, censorship and banning are the character of totalitarianism. Yet some standards of a totalitarian regime must not be allowed to drop. If they do, that would bring hatred and stifle the very liberal ideas of a vibrant democracy. The cost of freedom comes with the cost of sacrificing another freedom. It's like choosing which leg to stand on.

Some media must be banned to have a humane lifestyle in society. Some harmful social media like Facebook kill time, distract life, erode culture, and direct a false life. China has banned many such media to bring goodness to the country. We too can live without some of these harmful channels. If we can ban, we are moving forward, not backward—toward a civilized, culturally and socially attached life. Banning tobacco had significant benefits, and it was the right move.

Ban. Ban freedom to understand what freedom is and to value freedom.

Ban.

Gibberish

Note: Sometimes, to kill time, I write whatever comes to my mind—pure jabberwocky. What follows is the product of nonsense thoughts. It almost killed me when I read it. Proceed with caution.


A man adjusted his bow,
Trying to shoot a crow.
The crow scooted away—the man was sad,
But the crow? The crow was very glad.


Storming out, he shouted with rage
At a lonely old sage on the hill's edge.
"Today is not your day," the sage declared.
"Come, let's pray." The man just stared.


The angry man was in despair.
"Life is not fair!" he cried through air.
"I have to feed my wife, you see,
And she will chop me up for tea."



The gentle sage gave a sudden smile,
Paused and thought for a little while.
"To feed your wife, you need not kill—
Just send her up to me on the hill."



The surprised man screamed right in his face
(There was barely any space between the place).
"You dirty oaf! You clueless clown!
That crow's my wife's favorite loaf in town!"

No Reason

His eyes are on fire.
What is this nonsense desire?
Near her, a man stands—
jealousies, pains, itches creeping.
What is he whispering?
So near, he stands.

Wish he were dead
before he wakes from his bed.
He has no reason to say,
but if he could, he would flay.



She talks softly,
and she smiles too.
Why aren't you the same with him lately?
It is vile—like bile.

You paw-like cat.
He can smell rats.
He has nothing to say,
but you treat him like clay.



Some people don't know what love is.
Love is nothing.
You love someone without reason.
You simply love something,
but in return, you find the worst season.

Some people don't know what jealousy is.
Jealousy is love for someone.
It says: You are better than anyone,
and you are being cared for the most.
You simply resent for no reason—at most.

Some people can talk so much good
but have no basic understanding of what love is.
They simply ditch away like a piece of wood,
and with the smallest thing, you get hurt in love.

Some people have no good heart
to know about love's hurts.
They simply cry without understanding much of what hurt is.
They simply put a full stop in love
and suffer from the lack of love.

Memories

Fresh memories come back

of the path we wondered together.

Those were days of delight with you.

I cherish them. I live in the memories.

And the rest, I leave to God.