What is Religion?

The world of illusion;

Undefined of, I provoke, delusion

Some say it is the fount of aggressiveness,

Sans description in the compressiveness.

Apostasy too a nihilisms pinnacle in crime,

Shall never trek to nirvana

Alienation of suffering we wanna,

Elicit is the land of joy and manna.

It stipulates mothers of samsaric desire

As a detector, won’t lavishing a mare,

Religion by whom it detests,

Deluge to labyrinth samsara fastest.

Dreamingly dwelling in a mystery region,

Dedicators sin is a ransom by religion,

Altruist it adores that bears mercies;

A practitioner shall lucre many fancies.

Religion counsels us to pray,

Magnitude to discard being samsaric’s prey;

It adversely advocates being parsimony,

In addition, hotch-potch the learning of economy.

Our sublime mind never realizes,

When passionately, life get summarize,

After religion’s profound knowledge life gets discourage,

Thus, for the cessation scourge.

Reincarnation of Lama, the true racy;

We worldly lover never understanding seem dicy;

Some carp religion with horror;

Forlorn that path to heaven gets an error.

Delve the indebt to virtuous,

Are the impetus instruments to victorious?

Virtuous is a next life summons;

Jekyll and Hyde are miracle judges in common.

Why some rebirth in the family of tycoon,

Other in hut houses, on top homeless by the typhoon;

Past phenomena give the present fruition,

Never regain by fortution.

True action commitment, reap in bliss

Peace of pleasure and joy in a bliss that we shall kiss.

Note: This poem (an original version/not edited) was written by my brother Karma Dendup, 17 years ago. I didn’t understand when he read this piece to me often. But it inspired me a lot. Thank you bro. What I am now is part of you.

Love Hurts

Falling in love hurts

Secretly it kills you

Unable to say

Unable to disclose

That, how much you like her.

And it kills you more

When you have another

And you love them so much

What is wrong to love both?

Ashamed of one or other

You have the lousiest life to lead.

You simply play a round

Who is in love bound?

You simply don’t count

From where does love fount

So it kills you more

Deep inside the core

You have the lousiest life

And it’s like cutting like a knife.

I am You

I am you

I am what you are

I am an army to an army

I am an animal to an animal

I am what you are

I am the best

When you are the best

And I am the worst

When you are worst.

Such is I

Me, myself

You, yourself

You are what to me

When you are not me

I can’t stand

I am not what I am

I am what you are

I can’t be myself.

Society compressed me to be

Conformed to the values, they say

I am in the middle of worms

Trying to eat

I am made up of people

I am you

I am a human mortal.

Many Little Stories in Mysore

A birds-eye view of Mysore

One place to visit once in a lifetime as an ardent follower of Buddhism is Mysore – the sore cleanser of the life, they say. It is one of the centers of religious discourses and higher studies. Therefore, the place is much worshiped and known all over. The golden temple is the main attraction in the locality. Popularly established by the late Penor Rinpoche, the greatest Tibetan saint and lama, the monastery holds hundreds of monks, thousands of devotees from across the world. Though, the Nyingmapa sect of religion is practiced mostly, but there are many other monasteries in an around; like Dalai Lamas, Shedras, nunneries, etc for an assorted group of people.

It was three of us to stay there for a night. Our visit was mainly to see the late kudung/body of Penor Rinpoche. Not only we were sanctified by the sacred kudung, but we also visited many illustrious temples. Our Lopen, who was known to junior Sangay explained every significant history of everything. We were impressed. Everything had a story. A small stone displayed was said to be the heaviest that no one could lift. And there was grief-stricken, a very crossed/crying Guru Rinpoche, and there was a depiction of the hell…and it went on. It was only a chorten – a wish-fulfilling chorten that most people circumambulated. There was a story behind this, like everything. Visit and know. It is worth it.

Monks were not supposed to eat meat, but it killed me when our guide monk comfortably ordered chicken kabab. I felt pain in my stomach. I was really in the wrong place to order chicken myself in front of him, instead, I ordered mushroom Manchuria. Sangay instead preferred onions slices than chicken Kabab. We told that sangay should buy kilos of onions from Mysore. True. With the change of time and places, we like different things.

And Tshering is no ordinary guy, a person who in the beginning was the most on the go, sleeps in reality. Tshering got a kind of sleeping disease upon reaching Mysore. Tshering didn’t talk much, because he had a sore on his tongue. I told him not to kiss too much. Our guide Lopen told us that one gets impregnated by sleep, or freshen our mind, because of the power of the religious sanctity. I guess Tshering had been carrying all religious holiness and sacredness that made him so tired and sleepy. He slept a day, a night. I was like cock, every time waking him up to go and visit monasteries.

And there was a group of girls, who had come to see monks in the monasteries. They were having a good time with monks, supposedly trulkus. Yes, now about trulkus, one of the monks told me that Mysore is the factory of trulkus. Hundreds of trulkus are just trulkus. The late Penor Ripoche being very compassionate and humane accepted whoever came to him saying trulku. Even if you have gone declaring yourself as trulku, the Rinpoche would have recognized. This was what some monks told me. No, I don’t want to also. I said to them. I have seen so many fake trulkus walking out with unimaginable things; money, women, rape, murder, etc. I told them. A good example was what we/monks had seen just in the monastery’s guest house, a moment ago. Trulkus were sleeping in the same room where a group of girls were sleeping.  Why do women like monks? It really burns my eyes.

And Tshering had a headache every time someone talked about how unfaithful some women were. And with his headache, he went to sleep, peacefully. It killed me.