In Appreciation

                                                                         Poem# 2

Two things in the life never betrayed; God and the Parent- to whom the sky shines and for why it shines, the meaning of life is for them and what life meant is taught by them. When falling has a fall there remains dear parents. They formed the kingdom in a small realm of life.

Tell me, I ask myself,

What is on your mind?

What I have always had

Fixated for all time.

Nothing but my sacrificing father

Providing for me his dependent child

And my ever-supportive mother

For bringing me life, keeping me alive.

Our kind wise king and the royal family-

I speak from my heart frankly-

You have made our surroundings

A paradise on earth for me.

A Chiseling Life

                                                                            Poem# 1

Life is a block of wood; a carver models it into the best, but only at old age-when one becomes perfectly experienced. Every drill and grill is a tick of torment to life. It gashes to a perfectly imperfect time of life, and then we start over again in the next life.

A carver, lost in chiseling the wood,

models it into the finest.

He himself carefully carves into it.

As I look at him,

My own life rolls down:

the creaks of sculpting a block,

removing jarring angles,

 etch a torment.

Are those pains the impasse of life?

Life mills to live.

It’s a fume out of crumble and splinter-

every bit a loss and gain!

This act recurs,

and flusters like the hollow. resonant wood.

On thiscourse,

there is no sojourn from emotive and bodily fidgets.

Often, the disquiet chronic, writs large on the mark.

The happiness or silence-hung grim all around

were free of beginnings or ends.

They unfold in myriad ways.

One likes to live a life careless and free,

but the player lot is on the line.

Come to clutches with it, be a slave of it.

These forms befit a good mortal,

just as the crafter fits the pieces.

Yet this good human is qualified

only at old age- when he is unqualified-

and ends very near like a child,

the falls bodily asleep.

How many times do we hear creaks?

How many times do we crumble and splinter?

How many times are we milled,

only to hope?

How nany times are we never the finest?

As novice voyages embark anew

and we get down to chiseling all over again-

 to slice life in the life of a new beginning!

A Bad Side of a Good Relationship

Google Guru

The recent visit of Indian Prime Minister Mr. Narendra Modi to China has provoked fear and unease among Southeast Asian countries. There seems to be a kind of tug-of-war playing out between the giants of Asia. Smaller countries like Bhutan are left with little choice but to follow the tune of the bigger trumpets. What follows is my layman's observation of our relationships—and frankly, it's a troubling one.


Bhutan–India relations are deeply embedded. They were implanted and cemented when Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru visited Bhutan in the 1960s. At that time, the relationship was state-to-state—warm, formal, and administratively strong. But here's the irony: while ties at the government level remain cordial, the people-to-people relationship has often been bitter.

Bhutan today finds itself stagnant, caught in limbo about this relationship. On one hand, China cordially welcomes us, offering opportunities to tie new knots of friendship. On the other hand, we continue to cling to our old "good neighbor," India. We are stuck in an indeterminate state: should we move toward a new world of change, or hold on to the old road of depravities and treacherousness?

I use the word treachery deliberately. Do you think a good friend would loot, burgle, abduct, kidnap, and open fire on a friend? And yet, we still hang on—unsure of what to do about such dreadful activities directed at our ordinary people. We resist the irresistible. We writhe. We tolerate. And that, in a nutshell, is the irony of Bhutan–India relations.


Let me offer some evidence of this embittered state of affairs.

In the year 2000, a Bhutanese bus traveling on the Phuntsholing–Samdrup Jongkhar route was gunned down by unknown Assamese militants, killing several innocent Bhutanese passengers. Bus services on that route had to be halted completely for more than a decade. Even today, poor and disturbed Bhutanese passengers are forced to rely on Indian transport along this route.

Between 2011 and 2014, there were rampant kidnappings of Bhutanese citizens in Gelephu. To date, about ten abduction cases have been reported. Victims' families have had to pay millions of ngultrum as ransom. Some victims were tortured. Some were brutally killed.

In 2014, many Bhutanese private cars were robbed on the Alipurduar–Lamozingkha road by local goondas. We have heard of cars being smashed up and destroyed in bordering areas. Many of our citizens have been beaten up by hooligans.

So I ask again: does a good friend do that? It's a question that will haunt every Bhutanese for many generations to come.


And then comes the next question: would the Chinese do something similar to this?

As far as my limited knowledge goes, the Chinese have some of the strictest rules to control hooligans. I have heard that even for the slightest mistake or a small act of corruption, you are either released—or hanged. That sounds like a country where peace prevails. A place where such bad activities would not be tolerated.

I am not claiming China is perfect. But I am asking: why do we tolerate from one friend what we would never accept from another?