On This Day

Today I am lonely.

You are not here.

My mind carries its worries.

I remember the good days,

The delightful days—

But I cannot bear this sadness any longer.

Today I am lonely.

You are not here.

You are the one I miss.

I think of you.

Still, my mind carries its worries.

I cannot carry this sadness anymore.

Each day, the sun drifts across the sky

And never truly vanishes.

I believe there is a place

Where we can be together—

Somewhere, for good people.

Passang, the Healer

The story below was written by Sherab Zangmo, one of the students from class six. I reproduced her story here as she asked me to publish it on the blog.

Once upon a time, there lived a woman named Passang. She lived on a mountainside in a small hut made of bamboo. Her surroundings were fresh and green, and she depended only on the forest. Berries and forest products were her food. She was lonely, and no one wanted to see her.

Passang had been sent away from her village for a crime she didn’t commit. Everyone in the village considered her evil and believed that she had cursed them. Whenever a small problem arose in the village, they blamed her. They hated her and made her feel low and bad. But she never said anything back to them. She was too kind to argue.

One day, an unknown disease began to spread in the village. Everyone got infected, and no one knew the cure. As always, the villagers blamed Passang. She wanted to tell them it was not her fault, but they never let her speak. Passang was then banished from the village.

Passang had a special ability: she understood different diseases and could make their cures. Only one person knew about this gift—her friend. But the friend was too afraid to speak up, thinking she would be blamed just like Passang. As the disease kept spreading, Passang’s friend finally gathered her courage and told the villagers the truth. She explained that only Passang knew the cure and that she was an expert.

Desperate, the villagers went to seek help from Passang. She first examined the disease and understood the problem. Then she went into the forest, collected a unique flower that held the cure, extracted its essence, and gave it to the people. The sick villagers recovered, and they apologized for their terrible mistreatment of her. At last, Passang was able to return to her village.

Written by:
Sherab Zangmo
Class VI C
Darla Middle Secondary School

Sane Hopes

An Uncertain Journey

The lucid sky at night

Greets me.

And the full moon

Bewitches me even more.

The twinkling white stars

Show a true place for me to be.

The clear cyan sky

With the sun with its white rays,

Opens a way to a new beginning-

A way to truth,

A way to the world out there, where

true love and care exist.

A heart that can be trusted

Can receive rains of love.

Fruits of peace and friendship grow.

Who doesn’t know what is bad?

I want to be there.

I know its dreaming,

 But I will wait - for the hope of it.

My SONS

Thank You, merciful God, for giving everything.
Thank You, mighty God, for health and happiness.
Thank You, omniscient God, for a lovely family.
I supplicate to grant us these — always.

I am grateful to my parents
For bringing me up
And making me what I was not.
My debts to them are countless.

I am blessed with the wealth to carry on
And a good place to live upon.
Thank You for sending us two lovely sons —
The day they came to us was our life.
The sons are our suns.

The twelfth day of the month —
That is when they were born:
One on November 12th, the other on April 12th.
Twelve has become my favorite number.
How happy we are to have you both!
With you both, it’s all happiness.
We are so happy to be with you two,
Our dearest sons.
May God grant us to live for seven generations or more.

You are our world, little ones.
We would do everything
To make you a better person,
A good person,
A truly living person.

My new born baby sleeping sweet

Oh! how we like you

Changing and kicking out!

Me and my baby

His mother feeding

When he was seven days old

 

I am indebted to my father and mother

Four of us with our best

Two of us

My dear little ata baby in Tsirang

Baby ata and his mother

Baby ata and his father(me)

Proud to be a boy and studying in Darla MSS

In Gelephu. Three of us

On the way to Trongsa a long time ago

During Blessed Rainy Day near Gedu

Inside Darla MPH watching the concert show. Baby Danced!!

A Hiccup

A momentary hiccup

Strikes me

Spilling over sudden sadness,

And bringing inexplicable memories,

Etching my desperate soul-

When I know you're no longer with me.

A sudden silence in between

Stirs so many dreams,

Afires with life and joys,

But the odd sense of feelings,

Lumps my way out

When I see you're no longer with me.

(Trapped in these hiccup and un-hiccup)

Alone I live, longing for joy at the end.

The race of this life

Makes me painful,

And counting without a wife

Makes me a fool.

I hope they are not to stay long.

Footnote: A momentary hiccup in the poem shows two sudden shifts of moments; a hiccup bringing sorrows while hiccupping, and dreams of joys that cone right after the short hiccup, just as one feels new and fresh once you hiccup-if only for a moment. It also reflects a temporary setback to somebody’s plans or arrangements. In this way, it mirrors the transitory nature of life: one quick joy and one quick sorrow. Anyways, for me, I live each day with hopes for tomorrow, though I have to walk with these two hiccups.

A photo story of Pema Tashi 2016

13

Thank You My Teachers

As I write this today, on Teacher's Day, all that comes to my mind is "Thank you," "Thank you," and "Thank you." Today, I write words of excitement and appreciation—words devoted to many great souls. This short note is in honor of all my teachers and professors, and of the life you have helped me build. Truthfully, a million pages of gratitude would not be enough.

I thank you all a million times. What you have done is sometimes more than anyone else could. When I first entered the classroom, I was nervous and skeptical, but there was an abundance of wonderful people who helped me find my footing. Thank you for teaching me, for guiding me, for showing me a smooth path in learning and reading literature. You have been the best of friends, teachers, guides, and parents.

Thank you for all that you are and for all that you did, and for caring for us. We know your work is more than just a job—it is a calling. For that, we are deeply grateful for your sacrifices.

I have learned to read better. I would never have understood that the world is round, that there are many countries like ours, or who I am—what, how, why, and so much more—if you had not taught me.

You all deserve huge congratulations and thanks. Who could forget our amazing trips? Who could forget our noisy class? Who could forget your charming and sometimes angry faces when you grew annoyed with too much work and too many responsibilities? There are so many good things to remember.

I probably cannot thank you all enough.

Thank you for everything, my teachers.

I am happy because, even though I cannot be with you all in person, I can at least keep the memories always in my heart.

Thank you very much, Mrs. and Mr.