My Khayey Poem

From Google

This poem is purely the product of my personal experience of remote-kind of hard, but easy-comfort and free life! The countryside was it! How I spent nights chasing animals from the field crops. And at last, in the end, animals and I would be friends in the night. Animals like deer, when I make noises are saved from the tiger.

Khayey (Sharchopa Term): Stilt hut; a tall hut made up of bits and parts of woods, poles, leaves, etc, and usually made as a house for guarding farmlands.

It’s hard

Hard in the rains or shines

But it’s free

It’s demanding

Calculating the yields and the meals

But it’s carefree.

A Khayey is a thatched banana leaves

In which, through perforated leaves see the moon

Moon is the king in the night

Like wild animals are.

The Khayey itself is all naturally built;

Tall poles, little poles, leaf of verities

In this nature, a human as I stand;

With an insipid fire burning near my bed.

My maize plants surround the Khayey

The tall and tilting, swings gently

Sometimes waves are just under my feet

Who protects?

Anyways, the fresh evening breeze keeps fresh

I can hear every tiny sound

The sound of all insects and creatures…

The sound of cuckoo…

The chatting of birds…

The sound of animals rushing beside the farmland

It’s their world.

Slowly the sound dies

But my friends come into life

Not bothering whose crops they are destroying;

What I have?

What they have?

I shout, throw stones piled beside my head

My guests sprint down for a minute or two.

But soon,

Alas! Loud roars roar the deep valley of the forest

making different sounds

There is commotion

‘My deer,’ I cried

And the only way to help them from the prey

Is just to shout continuously

I expect some of them to come near my Khayey

And take refugee.

But it is a two-way blockage

It is an easy trap for a tiger

And he would never leave having one

There is a painful cry of deer for many minutes,

As he drags down the valley.

Oh dear, it is painful to have my favorite orange deer

(I saw her the previous evening)

And I believe it’s all because of me

To have chased away from my field

As she came here for the refugee

If she has been a refugee here

Then where is my refugee place?

The sinking thought answer silently in the night.

Cluster Sports Meet 2015

Darla school is hosting the cluster schools sports meet. It begins on 16^th, and it will go on till 19^th April 2015. There are five Middle and Higher secondary schools from lower Chukha Dzongkhag. They are Darla MSS, Gedu HSS, Pashikha HSS, Chumithang MSS, and Kamji MSS. Many outdoor and indoor games will be played during these four days. Today, on the first day, many athletics were won by our host school.  I hope other schools may not go back to their schools with all red, red faces-so very defeated! 

After this cluster meets, there will be Dzongkhag meet, and then regional meet, and then a national level. I leave with some snapshots for the day:

Today When I Come to the School

My son recited a poem during the school poetry recitation competition on 27-3-2015. I wrote a simple poem for him. It is about what he sees when he goes to school. Full video:

https://www.facebook.com/pema.tashi.520

 

Today when I come to the school

The road was full of mules

Students were walking

And something they were talking.

Today when I come to the school

I saw a milkman in his pool

Pouring milk in his jar

And keeping inside his car.

Today when I come to the school

I saw a class pp child so cool;

By hanging on the prayer wheel

Breaking the rule is what I feel.

School Rimdro

A two-day Darla school Rimdo was on 19-20th of March. It was presided over by His Eminence Yangpel Lopen. Some snapshots of our school rimdro:

Receiving the Lama

Chefs: Ready to cook

Peeling off potatoes

Rimdro invocation

Driving away evil spirits

Sermon to our students

Mask dance to scared away evil spirits in the school

Wang to the public of Darla and nearby communities

 

The Mills of the God Grind Slowly BUT Exceedingly Fine

Very recently, I realized that life after death is fair. The present works determine where to go. There are two places to go; heaven and hell. Life is unfair now. Those who work hard get less. Those who devote themselves suffer the most. Those who live straight have crook lives. And cheaters, liars, killers, and other adulterers are rewarded with good lives. I wish those who commit bad deeds must be punished in front. It’s good there is a decider of our deeds now, not later. Those who cheat, bully, lie, kill, and commit other crimes are said to be going to hell and those who are good human beings should go to heaven. It’s slow but sure to come. The mills of the god grind slowly but exceedingly fine. There is cause and effect in everything we do here. And this hope keeps me that far away from bad deeds and keeps away from those people. It’s difficult to tune with life. But life is life; you go on with good things, good thoughts, good deeds, good soul, good; everything good. But, at last, we turned into a bad and fellable one. Nothing goes as per the deeds now. Those who went on cheating, they go on and those who tell lies, they go on…. Such is the life of man—no extremity; no very good, no very bad, but one must follow the middle path; the ‘badly good.’

The below is the song I like to sing when people grumble and do nothing.

Some people must-have.
Some people have not.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Some people will work.
Some simply will not.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Like this: It’s society’s fault I don’t have a job.
It’s society’s fault I am a slob.
I have potential no one can see.
Give me welfare. Let me be me!

Hey, Bud, you’re livin’ in the Land of the Free.
No one’s gonna hand you an opportunity!

Some people must-have.
Some never will.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

I don’t have a house. I don’t have a car.
I spend all my money getting drunk in a bar.
I wanna be rich. I don’t have a brain.
Just give me a handout while I complain.

Or this: I wanna stay in bed and watch TV.
Go out weekends in a limousine
And dance all night takin’ lots of drugs
And wake up when I wanna.

Hey, Bud, you’re livin’ in the Land of the Free.
No one’s gonna hand you an opportunity!

Some people will learn.
Some never do.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.
Yeah, they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

                                                                                                                                    -to be continued-