Wednesday, October 10, 2012

The Bad Things of Good Things


“Ask! Ask! If you don’t know. Inquire, if you want to know. Ask Zangpo, why I drink often a lot. Zangpo knows all. He sees me as I see. He does what I do. He cares for me like nobody else.”

Once upon a time, flowers bloomed. The fruits were dunned and dropped before anyone could pick. No one could eat the fruit. Hoped and desperation hung in the empty spaces. Everyone was left alone.

Alone, to me then, and now, I need to survive. How will I survive when I have given part of my heart and life? It takes a long time to mend the life like before, that was so full. My broken heart sinks and cuts like a knife. But why did you do such things? Our friendship has been pretentious. Rich friends have rich hearts of love, sounds now befuddled to me. I’m retracing now that you have just shown me the duplicity of friendship.

“Birds of the same feather flock together,” read it when I was in seven standards. So were Pasang(name changed) and me, who became fast friends in a distant school in the capital. Similarities attract each other. We were silent. We were the first time. Ours were innocent parents.

Pasang as I observed as the days began to move was too conservative, hardworking, divinely religious, self-praised, did not drink any kind of liquor and had the best habit of always volunteering to be the class captain or some such like others. In this sense, I was quite different; I was always silent observer, and I sometimes sneaked out silently from the class and drank in melancholy moods.

When days and the months passed, we were seen and regarded as friends by other fellow mates. So, the chance of having other friends was less. You can’t befriend all in the school, if you are, you have no true friends. This happens in school life. You can’t befriend the time with all.

Seeds of friendship were planted spontaneously. Our surroundings said so. Hence, we shared to eat, to study together, sometimes in my house and occasionally in his house. I supposed we became true friends then. He was our volunteered captain. We were in a different class then. Many mates of his cursed him for being so authoritarian in the class and refused to have him the next month's captain. So I guessed he lost the future chance.

Life rolled on. The youth was the age of rupture. Everything ruptured in a wee time.

After two years, we were again in NIE, Samtse as a training mate. He was different then. I had have always considered him as a friend, anywhere, everywhere, whatever I did. But he was quite different. He ignored me simply. I didn’t mind much. When the days passed, he had begun to win respect from elders and lecturers by polishing and volunteering for them. He himself volunteered to be a house counselor in the first year. The story was the same; many mates hatred him for being authoritative and using his power wickedly. I always thought he was really a bad leader and counselor.

Our friendship became so thin that whenever we meet, he talked little or ignored me. like the petals of the flowers felling one by one, our bonds too broke it one by one. Although, I thought he would help when the there was a need him. The truth was I was under him, in his house captainship, and it was only me who he could make me work SUPW in front of his eyes. I didn’t mind it so much.

I remember vividly, the beginning of the death of our friendship and I took this incident very seriously. What he did to me that day. He himself, without any reason, turned against me completely. It was on the NIE football field. Such a sycophantic person he was one of the judges of the football match. I was a ball retriever. He threatened me to be the retriever, if not; he would report to his other sycophant lecturer, and if I refused to do, that would have created enough problems to lose marks. The ball retriever's job was to get the ball when it went outside. Talking part in games and sports like ball catcher would mean marks to pass our course. Half-match over. Resting time was it? I was about to sit on the empty chair nearby him. And what he said was never to be forgotten and forgiven, “Go, don’t sit here ball boy, go there.” He pointed to the sewage drain. It wasn’t his chair, and the ball boy would usually sit sometimes. I remained silent and sat on the muddy smelling tank. It wouldn’t have been so ashamed if it weren’t for the crowd of girls, who had heard it and were looking at me in an unpleasant way. I had not had a single girl in my life. My face would be on the iron fire if I ever talked with them. The match started. I went to talk with him, but he was damned.

The match got over. The player came for the refreshment. They took out the fruity juice. The juice distributor was about to give me the juice but he came and snatched the juice away from me. Then he turned his back and announced to all the players and judges to drink all juice bottles. I tried reacting to him by saying something in a comical way to make matter light, but he was damned. At that moment, I couldn’t resist, and I was about to hit my best friend. But I controlled. I was really ashamed. What wrong did I do to my true friend? I didn’t realize anything of that. Behind the curtain, I thought something was there in his mind that he hated me so much. I questioned myself that real friends wouldn’t exploit or deride such things among people.

Now I know, some people are like dry leaves, they fall without any use to their own tree. They fall, move here and there for some time, and get blown away, unseen from the mother tree. So are many of our friends.

It was the last thing I would ever see or hear in my life.

I wished for the dearest death! Five years back! The devil-minded friend lost his wife. How deep he loved her. She ran into the jungle to be hanged herself.
A few months later, there was a very devastating letter. I didn’t look at it with surprise.
“Why anyone didn’t tell me of that. It became clear now, that you, my best friend have kept up spirited throughout these many years. I lost my wife for I was mindless and treated like you, Zangpo. I drink my life now.” There was little satisfaction in my mind that he still remembered those bad days. I replied to him, “In life, we remember only bad things; let’s try to forget those bad happenings, and remember good things.” I hoped this small universal lesson would help him.  


DON'T NURTURE FRIENDSHIP WITH SELFISH PEOPLE

Note: The above article is a somewhat true story of the author’s life, though some details are truncated for the brevity of the story.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

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.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

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.





Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Wonderla Trip

So far, I have made two short trips in Bangalore: One with my classmates on 12th 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 23rd 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.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

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.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

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.