A NOTE TO GOD

Dear God,

I often ask myself why my life turned out the way it did.

What I fail to ask is why it did the way it didn't

Sorry for all the moments I took you for granted (I still do)

And I apologize for blaming you

When my own heart carried me away on its whims

I am also sorry that I forget to count my blessings

And share the riches you have gifted me

Love, laughter and life

I owe you one for all the rubs I got

Otherwise as Rumi said, how would I be polished?

I know I have hardened my heart against love

And I ask you to melt away my unforgiving disposition

Cultivated from the little hurts of life

I have forgotten to look at the rainbow in awe

And be inspired

Oh, I need your forgiveness for looking away

When love was all was needed and a little compassion

To aid my fellow brothers and sisters!

And for being a snivelling hypocrite 

Full of self pity while expressing outwardly courage!

But now I determine Lord

To make a difference

For from one begins many and more

Help me not to let my disappointments and triumphs

Disillusion or delude me

And make me an instrument in this world,

Your beautiful creation

To make life even more joyful and worth living!

A LETTER TO MY BROTHER

Dear Brother,

And I mean “dear” because you have always been a loving figure and personality to me – someone with whom I bicker a lot but at the same time treasure and deem precious.

Of course, I get absolutely annoyed with some of your habits…like making up excuses for being overweight when you should be taking up the challenge of leading a healthier lifestyle ( I mean you are not bad looking but losing those extra pounds would add oodles of charm!) and being too dependent on family to sustain yourself instead of being enterprising and dynamic.

But then I know you are such a good human being at heart.

You don’t mind whenever I ask for a cup of tea from bed.

You share whatever little resources you have.

You are good with kids (something that never came naturally to me).

You keep in touch with kith and kin unlike me.

You don’t mind doing a bit of the dishes.

You keep me in splits with your wit and humour.

You are warm and big-hearted.

I have often been insensitive to you but the fact is when I was a baby you held my hand and taught me to write the alphabet.

We used to share packets of “Wai-Wai” over Tinkle comics.

You beat up the bully who tormented my best friend in school.

You have got artistic skills that I am proud of.

You have protected me always.

There will always be arguments but we share a special bond and I pray that we will continue to cherish one another as siblings held together by blood, emotions and the same God.

You mean a lot to me and I mean it J

HOPEFULLY YOURS...

Sometimes I get frustrated.

That pull-your-hair and shout-into-the-pillow kind of frustration when I see things that I should be doing, saying and seeing but am NOT doing, saying and seeing.

When I have made a resolution to read three books a month and barely manage to go through one.

When I determine to write more yet end up getting writer’s block with no substantial body of work behind me.

When I know I should be honing my skills and whatever little brains I have and on the contrary find myself in a state of physical and mental inertia.

When I know I should be emerging stronger from my past and find myself retrogressing into emotional trauma.

When I look into the mirror and the image that looks back at me shows a badly tucked in tummy and signs of premature ageing.

When I know I should be saving for rainy days but my purse is perpetually empty.

Why I ask myself should I be so weak, so average, so mediocre, so shunned by fortune?

But then something tells me I am lucky to even live this life, breathe in the fresh green air, feel the summer breeze on my face, take in the mellow sunlight and laugh it out with friends and family.

Something tells me that hope is there yet because I also give hope to others like my ageing parents and close circle of friends.
If only I could be a little less depressed the world would be a little happier place to live in or should I say?

Wisdom whispers in my ears not to be too harsh on myself because just as I have taken, my time to give has  arrived and I have to give unconditionally – that’s the law of life.

Faith, Hope and Love – these are the greatest elements in life, according to the Bible.

I hope because I have faith. I have faith because I am loved and have the privilege to love :)

MY CUP OVERFLOWETH!

Well, I knew this was coming.

I knew this day was inevitable.

My “emptying”.

I have lost almost everything I once had and cherished.

I lost my vanity (pride in my so-called “cute” appearance). People used to find me “cute” but the compliments stopped coming my way after a particularly bad and drastic hair-cut and the fact that at present my skin is full of spots. My once-always-laden stock of expensive cosmetics has significantly diminished (All this may be temporary but I still take it as a lesson).

I have lost all my money. My savings and recurring accounts are both depleted. I closed the latter a long time back (prematurely) in face of a financial crunch.

I lost my job as project director in an upcoming film production company due to cost-cutting.

Once a happening name in the media fraternity as reporter, copy-editor and editor, I am nowhere on the scene right now. I am a “has-been”.

I lost (in fact never got) the men I loved. And my last and only “love-affair” ended after I attempted suicide (I downed a glass of floor cleaner but survived after I puked the poison).

Well, why am I sharing all this with you? Ask me and I have an answer. Despite me losing everything, being “emptied” of everything I ever possessed, I am at peace…in fact a tad too relaxed and happy. Why?

Because I believe God has taken them all away so that he can teach me to trust in His provision every step of the way. Teach me how not to trust in man, money or myself; how to give myself to him completely, how to ask him to guide me with every little or big decision and how to realize that He and only He counts in life.

God has slowly and steadily peeled away every superficial layer that existed in me; demolished every one of my idols one at a time. He is teaching me to practice simplicity in the most unexpected areas. Painful it was, yes…when everything I believed in collapsed. I was left with an overwhelming feeling of desolation and the question: “Why God? Why me?”

But then from the impenetrable shroud of silence, the answer came: “MY grace is sufficient for you.” And trust me; his grace has been sustaining me through all my broken dreams and supposed scarcity. I have a home over my head, sufficient groceries to feed me and clothes that I find are good enough to wear anywhere.

I thank God I have been through all this…it has taught me so much…I have grown as a Christian, as a human being and as an individual.

Pain is that purifying fire that refines you and it teaches you the one and only truth – when everything else fails, God remains… The only thing I have now is family and friends who care for me but I believe even if my dear ones fail me God will be there.

I have faith in God that sustains me through the most evil and trying times, and the driest spells.

In fact, I am rich; abundantly rich and blessed in the knowledge that there is an unfailing Supreme Being who loves and cares for me!

"ACCIDENTALLY" GLEANING SOME LIFE LESSONS

Well, it was not much really.
Just an accident on the zebra crossing at the Thimphu hospital resulting in a fractured pelvic bone and some cuts and bruises on my body.
Luckily I was not wearing glasses (hail contact lenses!)
Jokes apart, I had quite a serious accident with a cab in September 2010.
The cab driver didn't see me and I was too absent minded to look around.
The cab hit me and I was thrown a few feet away, unconscious.
Luckily, passersby and my dad's driver took me immediately to the emergency ward.
I was discharged after the wound on my arm was swabbed and I was given an injection plus after I underwent x-rays and an ultrasound examination.
"You are ok," said the examining doctor, " Just let the fracture heal through bed rest."
I thank the "bed rest" and good food (read eggs, butter, milk)  for gaining extra pounds which I haven't been able to shed till today.
But every event that occurs in your life is a learning experience.
And I learned from the accident, too.
For example, I learnt how lucky people who can pee in the bathroom are.
I learnt to be patient and not get fidgety while on bed for a whole month.
I learnt to walk on crutches.
I learnt to enjoy a back massage.
I learnt to wash my face with a bowl of water.
I learnt to enjoy a book as dark as "The Catcher in the Rye" by J.D Salinger.
I learnt to savor Kahlil Gibran's poetry.
I learnt to cherish fresh air and green.
I learnt to long for company.
I learnt to edit stories for the newspapers I was working for.
But best of all, I learnt that so many people are there who care for me.
I learnt that in moments like this, the sight of a loved one uplifts you beyond anything else.
And I learnt that though you are just mortal, you can make life better for others by showing just an iota of compassion.
It surely was an affair (accident) to remember!

Can Bhutanese writers wield the pen? (An article published in The Journalist)

A young girl was stranded in the middle of an isolated island for more than a decade. She survived alone on the island because she had the life-skills. She knew how to fish, light a bonfire and swim. Many passing ships tried to rescue her but she was a good runner and knew all the hiding places on the forbidden land. Whenever the travelers left disappointed, she would be on a cliff waving at them. Then one fine day, a group of determined sailors decided they had to take her back to civilization by any means. They formed a band and started a search operation, combing the whole area. At last, by a stroke of luck, one of them found her, sitting by a cliff, humming to herself and swinging her hands. He reached up to her silently and touched her shoulder. What was the girl’s reaction? Did she jump, scream, run away or catch hold of the man? No. She silently motioned for the man to take a seat and prepared a meal for him. What was happening here? The castaway girl was catering to one of the most basic needs of a human being. Even she knew and felt that. “And that is what a writer is supposed to do,” ended Kim Stafford, a writer and teacher from Lewis & Clark College in Oregon, USA who along with team members from Poland and Alaska, conducted a writers’ retreat at VAST, Thimphu on January 25, 2011.

Writers are supposed to be a gifted lot. They gift their creations to the world. And in turn, they themselves are rewarded with the gifts of personal expression and realization. Kim Stafford, the son of the American poet William Stafford who has authored more than 2,000 volumes, said that even Bhutan is a rich breeding ground for potential writers.

“The people I have met in Bhutan are filled with stories from their lives and from their country. Having a strong story to tell, and clear affection for the human community - these are the foundation for being a writer. So, yes, of course, Bhutan is filled with people who could do important writing,” he told The Journalist.

He believes that Bhutan needs writers and their stories in order to develop its full identity.

According to him, democracy is not just counting votes but real democracy is a society where many voices can be heard - young, old, beginner, advanced and “each writer's voice can make a crucial contribution to this process”.

 “The world needs to learn how to behave in better ways, and I believe writers in Bhutan can help us all to better understand our responsibilities and joys as human beings,” he added.

Azhi Kunzang Choden, a popular Bhutanese writer who has books like “The Circle of Karma,” “Chilli and Cheese: Food and Society in Bhutan,” “Tales in Colors and other Stories,” besides several articles, to her credit feels that Bhutanese writers need to keep on growing by challenging themselves constantly to become better writers.

According to her, there is a market anywhere for good, inspired, well written stories but Bhutanese writers have yet to prove themselves in the international arena. The test, she said, is for Bhutanese works to be accepted for publication by an international publisher.

But Tashi Gyeltshen, an independent filmmaker who also dabbles in photography and creative writing, said that research one of the most important elements that goes into a piece of superb writing is sorely missing in the Bhutanese writing culture.

He feels that creativity depends on the freedom that culture/society gives to an artist including a writer. “Creativity means you should have discipline, passion, skills, and the willingness to take risks,” he said.

According to him, the potential of a writer depends on how the society can promote and nurture it but that the creative culture cannot be changed overnight such as poor reading habits, growing up with orthodox views which constrict creativity and  expression, etc.

What inspires Tashi Gyeltshen is personal expression. He said that when you want to say something, or have a story to tell the world, it motivates you to create. For most people, he feels, writing is a form of self indulgence but for works of art to have that magical quality, it must be authentic and rooted in one’s own practices, of course, not without having a universal quality to it which the global community can relate to.

And “passion”, he says is “the grease that keeps the machine running”.

“Otherwise talent breaks down. When we talk about writers, it is not about good language but creativity.”

Some of the Bhutanese writers The Journalist talked to agreed that the publishing world in Bhutan also has to develop. And no amount of publicity will work if the product is not up to the mark.

A critic however said that readers do not exist in Bhutan and the few that do are “show-offs” trying to fit into the elite intellectual society. “Books here are meant to be published, not read,” he observed, “And there is no such formula by which a Bhutanese writer can touch the pulse of readers in our society.”

It is not an unknown fact that Bhutanese representation in the international literary circles is almost nil and an observer who agreed said that this is because there is no platform for nurturing creative talent in Bhutan.

“Because of the non-existence of an enabling environment, the Bhutanese have very little belief in themselves. Nobody will say they want to become a writer, photographer or film-maker. Everybody will vouch on becoming a doctor or engineer,” he said.

Tandin Wangchuk, an upcoming young writer who has already published three books, agrees that there is almost no market for books written by Bhutanese writers as compared to foreign authors.

“The books written in English are too expensive and only a few buy books in Dzongkha which is a sad thing.”

However, not to lose hope, is Azhi Kunzang Choden’s mantra. “Each one of us is a unique individual, so write as individuals, as you see, understand and interpret your world. You do not have to try to be somebody else by using their thoughts and their language. Write simple sentences,” she suggests.

And like Kim Stafford advised writers against discouragement, “Writing, like any spiritual practice, requires the long view. You are on a journey, and if you can learn to give yourself to the journey and enjoy the process of creation, we will meet in the land of success together as writers.”
   

TRUSTING GOD IN LITTLE

Nu 1,500……that was all I had in my purse when I set out for a two-week hiatus to the east on June 13, 2012 with a close friend.

I knew I was not carrying enough money but I did not have more and I believed that God would provide for me.

For lack of money my friend bought direct tickets from Thimphu to Bumthang  

The journey from Bumthang to Mongar the next day we spent juggling our time between sitting at the back seat and an upturned bucket because we could not get tickets. However, we did not complain.

God provided us a Toyota hilux for free the next day from Mongar to Kanglung, Trashigang.

We stopped at Yadi for tea and snacks which we got for free, too because we accidentally stumbled upon a believer’s restaurant. We prayed for the family and felt blessed in return.

Once we reached Sherubste (that was where our friend plus sister is staying with her husband who is a lecturer and her two small daughters), we made ourselves comfortable.

We stayed six days at her place and observed a seven-day fast starting the very next day we arrived. I observed it for spiritual renewal and renewed I was.

I learnt about being a woman (babysitting, folding diapers, baking cakes, making momos and a whole lot more....maybe God was "preparing" me!), about generosity and hospitality (from our hosts in Trashiyangste where we also spent two days), about delivering a sermon to a crowd and leading prayer service.

We had hitch-hiked to Trashiyangtse because we were short of money but when I returned with my friend after our revitalizing and rejuvenating stay in the two dzongkhags, I had Nu 2,500 in my pocket. God’s providence.

The poorest (in the worldly sense) people did not withdraw from giving to us.

This was a lesson in large-heartedness.

I am not a very wise spender but I had decided that I would trust in God to provide for me and my friend. He did not let us down.

It is not only in plenty that God blesses us. He is pleased to bless us when we put our trust in him during scarcity, too.

Great lesson learnt.

BEING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DESK

I started out as a reporter around three and a half years ago.
Well, I can’t say I decided it. Fate did (and I am glad it did).
Starting out as a reporter – meek, vulnerable, just out of college and most strikingly, an introvert inclined to be depressed all the time leaned the scales (and the tides) against me.
I had few friends and absolutely no contacts. My sole world was my soul and my best friend was my supportive dad.
And to tell you a secret – I hardly read newspapers then except the entertainment section.
With all these handicaps, I started out but got selected in Bhutan Times, the country’s first private newspaper, solely on the strength on my language or so to say writing skills.
I remember I had to write on media and democracy. I admit now that there wasn’t much substance in my essay, just aesthetic charm.
But I slogged for the one month I interned.
I admit I didn’t do many screamers; howlers were more like it.
But I think the management knew I was trying and trying hard.
At the end of the month, my first front page story was published, interestingly on “night hunting”.
Six months I was at the capital and everybody was nice to me and appreciative of the “suicidal interludes” I wrote for the paper.
Now, I wonder why I was so sad. There was no reason to be.
Then, like a bolt from the blue came the news – I was to be posted as the eastern correspondent for the paper.
Fear, apprehension, nervousness….the question – “Will I manage it?” dogged me throughout the time I journeyed from Thimphu to Trashigang.
I need not have worried because my family was there.
But my dad got another posting after a few months.
It was a blessing in disguise.
I became so independent and strong I could not have imagined it was the same me.
I stayed a year in the east as a correspondent.
Soon, there was a change in management and problems arose. My dear colleagues walked out and I was terminated, too because I became sick and irrational.
I am schizophrenic but I have no qualms about admitting it. Sometimes, you see the light only when there is darkness and this malady has taught me so much about life, myself and God.
At the end of another month, my health stabilized and I joined Bhutan Today.
Here started my first stint as an editor. I was reporting as well as learning to edit.
After some months, I was transferred to Gelephu as a bureau correspondent again.
Life was lonely but I was again independent.
After the end of a busy day, I would sit on the balcony, watching the rainfall, or listening to cicadas and sip a cup of aromatic tea.
However, I was not to stay in Gelephu for long.
When I visited the capital after a period of time, I met with an accident (a cab hit me) and I was bed-ridden for a month.
Another blessing in disguise.
My well-meaning boss delegated me solely to the editorial desk and soon I turned copy editor.
After I was on my feet again, I was reposted to Thimphu and I started editing for two newspapers.
The training I went through was grilling, thrilling and wonderful.
Now, I am news editor for The Bhutanese and it seems like I have come a long way.
How does it feel like to be (known as) an editor?
Well, to be frank, the name sounds good and it is uplifting to the morale but I know I have a long, long way to go.
Dealing with reporters is tricky – you have to know when you should get close and when you need to withdraw.
Personal and professional prejudices should be kept at arm’s length though sometimes no matter how much you try, they tend to overlap.
And as for my knowledge and expertise (or the lack of it), I feel like a frog in a pond sometimes.
I am learning day by day, minute by minute.
Sometimes, I feel like the reporters can teach me a lesson or two when it comes to economics and finance!
I still need to hone my analytical and expressive skills.
I know I have got a tremendous bit to learn.
So the onus of being “an editor” does not come easy; tagged with it comes responsibility to yourself, the reporters, the newsroom as a whole and most importantly the society.
What you write can build or destroy.
What you write can kill or heal.
I am lucky I am known as an upcoming paper’s editor but I know I have yet to prove that I really am one.

LEARNING POYNTER(S)

Well, it was a wonderful week in St.Petersburg , Florida in the USA, (Feb 12 to Feb 18) - the city of beaches and sunshine though the weather was not exactly as warm as we had expected and it rained on our last day at the state.
The Media Project did a wonderful job of bringing together 18 Christian journalists from across the world in the premier Poynter Institute of Journalism to train them on management and leadership issues.
I met a wide variety of people who had personalities as diverse as the colors of the rainbow.
I made good friends like the ever effervescent Irene Akoto from Ghana, Anna-Liza Kozma from Canada who was always brimming over with enthusiasm and energy, and Caroline Comport who was a top manager and adept at handling people and deadlines. Emeka Izeze from Nigeria and Jennifer Arul from Chennai had the advantage of experience and in-depth knowledge, and of course how can I forget the quiet and humble Aramide Oikelome also from Nigeria? I told her while departing, “Quiet waters run deep.” The same applied to Promise Hsu Hong from China and Victor Lugala from Sudan who with their silent presence made a substantial contribution to the workshop.
Baby Lyn Resulta from the Philippines and Dorothy Teoh from Malaysia with their expertise kept the conference room alive with discussions. So did Lekan Otufodunrin (Nigeria), David Sseppuuya(Uganda), and KL Chan(Malaysia) – our techno-expert.
Then there was Kristanto Hartadi from Indonesia and Mauricio Avila from Chile who had two things in common: salt-pepper hair and a silent sense of humor and maturity.
Dismas Lyassa from Tanzania acted very much the Prime Minister he was ordained to be! (Sorry, Dismas, for the joke!)
And of course, there was Rexford Johnson from Sierra Leone doing all the monkey business (he likes apples) and mischief while I was teased for being soft-spoken and timid. “The Princess of Bhutan” was an epitaph that stuck to me throughout the workshop. I just smiled and said I was “common royalty”.
I also evoked a lot of surprise, and horror from some quarters for saying we did not have “dessert” in Bhutan.
I once also evoked uproarious laughter from Romania’s Cristi Tepes, arguably the nicest, funniest and largest guy in the group, when I patted his very apparent belly and said “Gross National Happiness”.
Then the leaders: Jill Geisler – nothing beats the lady! She knows her stuff; and Arne H Fjeldstad – He is TRULY “the bishop” (I found my spiritual mentor in him and I consider myself blessed. TRULY blessed).
GOD BLESS THE WHOLE GROUP!

I BLEED

It hurts deep down
At the pit of my heart
I am disintegrating
Never felt complete
Ridden with guilt and sorrow
Never felt that I belong
An alien in a familiar world
Resurrected memories
Feelings that stifle
How I wish I were
Like the birds in the sky
Free and flying
Caged in a coop
I flutter my wings
Like a rooster with clipped feathers
Shadows from the past
Shady tentacles pull me back
Into a world that I have tried to escape
My heart is broken
Into shards that cut me
I bleed

GROWING THROUGH PAIN

People react differently to pain.
Some deny it deliberately.
Some wallow in it and refuse to let go.
Some fail to recognize it and indulge in activities which they feel will make the lonely, nagging feeling go away.
The best part is to see those who accept it and move on.
I have had my fair share of experiences in life.
Some are extremely painful to remember.
I have questioned myself and life.
I have been broken by guilt and grief.
Some memories are so painful, I often cry in bed.
But then, there is also a silver lining in the cloud.
Without pain, there is no growth.
It is as if a lump of gold is being refined in hot, white fire – the fire of suffering.
And at the end the product might be a sterling character.
Whoever has never experienced pain (and they are exceptions) do not know the essence of life.
Tears may not be pleasant when they fall but once they leave our eyes, our hearts turn more mellow, soft, compassionate and tolerant to others’ faults, and mature.
And what can be more precious in God’s sight than that?
God often uses pain to shape, chisel and mould us into sublime beings.
So hold on there.
It’s not over yet.
You still have to reap the fruits of your pain and how sweet they will be!

AMAZING GRACE

My trip to Delhi had been confirmed.
I was worried about not making an appointment with the US embassy for a visa.
I was worried about the interview because there were changes in my professional portfolio.
I was worried that I would have to stay alone in a hotel for 10 days.
I was worried about budget constraints.
I was sad I would have to spend Christmas away from home.
Well, the very next day of my arrival, I got my US visa in a walk-in interview.
I stayed three nights in a seven-star hotel (I stayed with Lyonchhen and his delegation as a friend of mine was part of it).
I had more than enough money to shop and spare.
I got friends to spend my time with and accompany me.
I could finish my work and return after just two days.
What made this possible?
God’s amazing grace.
Everything fell into place like a jigsaw puzzle.
And not because of coincidence.
Although you can say that even coincidences are brought about by God.
I got more than I had asked or hoped for.
God had talked to me through Matthew 6:29 when I was at the Paro airport lounge: “And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”
God did glorify me and how!
Christmas is approaching.
It’s a time to re-pledge and rededicate ourselves toward God.
I cannot make any promises but I will try my best to be a better Christian and human being and never ever underestimate God’s amazing grace.

IF I DIDN'T KNOW.....

If I didn’t know pain, how would I joy?
If I didn’t know hate, how would I love?
If I didn’t know trouble, how would I peace?
If I didn’t know betrayal, how would I loyalty?
If I didn’t know suffering, how would I empathy?
If I didn’t know poverty, how would I cherish plenty?
If I didn’t know loneliness, how would I comfort the friendless?
If I didn’t know depression, how would I wipe away another’s tears?
If I didn’t know want, how would I fulfill the needs of the deprived?
If I didn’t know travail, how would I God?

OF SARCHOKPA BUS RIDES AND VULGAR KHALASIS

I was going to the far-east after two long years. I had stayed in remote Trashigang for almost ten years with my family including a year alone as a bureau correspondent for the first private newspaper in the country before being reposted to the capital.
From Thimphu, it takes two days to reach Trashigang and the same applies on the way back. I noticed a peculiar pattern on my four-day journey back and forth in a bus.
The first day, I excitedly boarded the bus and noticed an unkempt young man hovering around the bus. I thought he was the driver but later, a man smartly dressed in a pangtha gho whom I had mistaken to be a gentleman about to board the bus took control of the wheels. The other was the so called “khalasi” (in borrowed Bhutanese parlance) or famous “bus conductor”.
Everybody was speaking in Sarchop so I put in my bit – a smattering of words here and there. The journey from Thimphu to Bumthang where we halted for the first night was ok – if that is the term one uses for boring music, yawns and unusable toilets where we halted for breakfast.
Apparently, the driver was not a chatty, effable one (until later) and every time a good song came up in the music player, he forwarded it but I bit my tongue though it sorely tested my less than saintly patience.
The next day was louder. The passengers warmed up to each other along with the eastern weather. Then followed the “khalasi’s” usual routine – of flirting with the belles in the bus. He was standing just before me and I was sandwiched between the girl who was the target of his corny jokes and who to her credit matched his “wit” with equal candor.
The other passengers joined in and when we reached Mongar, a middle-aged woman clambered up next to me. She would not leave the “khalasi” alone, with her repertoire of equally crude jokes.
Then a father of two kids and the driver started cracking jokes about “mewakchas and fewakchas” (women and men). I think you got the gist. Everybody at least seemed to be enjoying the crass jokes, which we Bhutanese term “humour”.
We finally reached Trashigang and departed ways.
On my way back, the same pattern repeated itself, though the “vulgar verbosity” started a bit earlier, towards evening of the first night back towards Bumthang.
The next day, the whole ride back to Thimphu was riddled with jokes about the male and female anatomy, with suitable metaphors used by the driver - a pot-bellied dark man, the “boy or kota khalasi,” two middle-aged village women (it’s the “aunties” who lead) and again I was in the centre of this cozy and should I say crazy group.
I hate to be judgemental here- of course, many will say that this is the everyday scenario in buses and it’s a Bhutanese way of connecting but I was wondering – Can’t we do far better than that?
I agree there was much merriment involved but in reality not everyone was enjoying it. There was a young man and woman seated together. When the jokes began to get dirtier and dirtier, the man got up and moved to the back seat out of obvious embarrassment. And when the “kota” hinted to his boss about it, the whole group threw a volley of harsh words at him indirectly.
Then, there was a married couple with a kid who also did not take very kindly to their rude remarks about their relationship in front of the whole horde of travelers.
It is not that we should be a robot-like lot with no sense of humour but there is a right and a wrong sense of humour. Cracking jokes, especially ones that are not pleasing to the aesthetic imagination and at the expense of others is height of rudeness.
There are intelligent, bright, innocent, good jokes and if we are good observers with a touch of wit, we can sense something funny in the most atrocious or simplest situations. The Bhutanese need to realize this.
Bhutanese seriously need to learn the art of good conversation.
Good talk counts as much as good manners.

CHANGE & MEMORIES

The seasons change…..from spring to summer to fall and winter.
The lunar cycle is in constant motion.
The Milky Way changes the course of its billion stars and asteroids once in eons.
The seed germinates, flowers, gives fruits and withers.
What in life is permanent? Nothing.
Change is the name of the game, the only thing that’s constant.
People change, circumstances, relationships and feelings, too.
It is like watching a rainbow.
The beautiful hues which appear at the confluence of rain and sunshine disappear within minutes.
We can only treasure the moment.
Hold onto it. As if our life depends on it.
Because what is a life without memories?
Without those old black and while images eaten by silverfish?
Or the fading colours of those perfumed portraits?
What is man’s love if not a transient phase?
But the effects are eternal.
It shapes a woman’s dreams and self-image.
The memories of her first kiss or her first love-letter make her smile.
The memory of their baby’s first steps or words makes her parents shed a tear of remembrance.
Memories are precious and they last but the events preceding them do not.
There is also hurt and pain from the past.
Grim memories – maybe a heart-rending word, or neglect or sheer hatred.
But we need to let go.
God not only told us to forgive our enemies, he told us to forgive ourselves as well.
By letting go of past hurt and regret, we forgive ourselves and love God.
Change changes the world but we can change the meaning of change by changing ourselves with the times.

LOVE IS.......(for a woman)

LOVE IS…..
Sharing when there is nothing
Crying and laughing together
A touch, a hug, a kiss
Travelling for 24 hours to spend five minutes with him
Getting up in the middle of a wintry night and seeing if the blanket is covering him, too
Making him a hot cup of tea after you return tired from work
Buying him a pair of shoes when your own need repairing
Making a birthday cake for his mother
Letting him have a guys’ night out
Listening to him rave about his favorite soccer team and not yawn
LOVE IS ALSO…….
Keeping away when you know you should
Correcting gently when he makes a mistake
Encouraging him to be with other friends
Caring about his spiritual and moral life
Telling him not to be extravagant especially on you
Letting go of the past &
Letting him go if needed

THE GOD ARGUMENT

Admit it. Most human beings in the world are a broken lot. It is the culmination of a long list of unfulfilled dreams and heartaches since we started being cognitive and could reason or feel.
Parental expectations to academic performance to peer pressure to conforming to societal norms, and the result is we often have people who are not reluctant to label themselves “social misfits” and some even declare it proudly because it elevates them to an altogether different realm from the usual “social butterflies” and “commons”.
Apart from these people who claim not to belong to the normal world order, we have others like atheists, apatheists, free thinkers, radicals, conservatives, fanatics, humanists, secularists, you name it. There is every category of people alive on the earth but the bottom line is – WHAT MATTERS?
Evolutionary biologists term people as just an aggregation of selfish cells and molecules which battle for survival as in Darwin’s theory of Natural Selection where the “fittest survives”.
It leaves no room for a human soul or the existence of the Divine.
And unfortunately, many people are broken just because they cannot connect to a source of external Supreme power which exists.
However, surprisingly, the theory of ultimate secularization, which most atheists and agnostics propound, with science making all its gigantic steps is not only nullified; it is being reversed.
In the 21st century, there is a global revival of religion. According to Dinesh D’ Souza, the author of the best selling “What’s so great about Christianity,” more than 90 percent of Americans believe in God, and 60 percent say their faith is important to them. America, thus supposed to be the most secular country in the world is the most religious country in the Western world.
He also states that despite the limitations imposed by the Chinese government, it is estimated that there are now 100 million Christians in China who worship in underground evangelical and Catholic churches.
“Thus, the thesis of inevitable secularization has lost its credibility.”
Ever wonder why this is happening?
Peter Berger argues that “modernization helps people triumph over necessity but it also produces a profound crisis of purpose in modern life. The greater the effects of modernization, the stronger the social anxiety and the striving for something more”.
“Secular culture itself produces a deep need for meaning in life and therefore also for religion," says Wolfhart Pannenberg
I always argue that people essentially are spiritual beings. They have something inside them which materialism and hedonism cannot fulfill. There is always a longing for something more meaningful and the sense of an everlasting.
I would like to believe that a human being is definitely not a robot-like creature which just thrives on survival, satiating its desires and passing on its genes. Living without reason, purpose or hope is one of the greatest tragedies mankind could ever face.
We hope because there is something intrinsic in us which makes us do so. In the same way, we believe in the Divine because there is a sense of the spiritual within us.
We may scoff at the idea of a monotheistic God or Creator but even Science cannot prove cent percent that there is no Divine Being that governs the world and its functions.
In fact, most modern scientists state that the latest findings of Science support religion.
Now, coming back to my lead. How many of us have been broken? Broken by inacceptance, guilt, hatred and shame? Why would we feel this way if we were unfeeling creatures? If we were simply machines made to consume resources, reproduce and die, why do so many find solace in the spiritual?
Every heartbreak has a life lesson to offer.
We often strive for the eternal when things in the limited world don’t go our way. In fact, that is a blessing.
Here I would like to quote from a devotional, “A Cup of Comfort”:
“Have you noticed how God uses broken things? A broken flower blossom gives off sweet perfume. Only broken soil can accept seeds to produce a ripe crop of wheat. And the bread must be broken if it must sustain our lives. So...what about a broken person? What about you?”
Ask yourself this question and think if it’s time you changed your perspective about life and existence.

SUNNY SIDES UP!!!

Animal figments:
Bulls cook up a lot of shit
Lizard tales are always broken
Parrots crack up a lot
Crocodiles smile to welcome while their tears are a façade
Pigs take mud baths as beauty treatment
One can never make out whether a hyena is laughing or crying
How come zebras never cross the road?
….like moths to a flame
….like flies to a jar of honey….Damn! The flies definitely have better taste!
Mom silverfish: Darling, are you still hungry?
Child silverfish: Yes, the book you gave me was too light.

The Chinese discovered silk and tea
The Greeks discovered philosophy
The Italians Art
And the Bhutanese an excuse


Albert Einstein apparently encountered a lot of static in his experiments. Evidence: His flyaway hair

Mona Lisa’s smile fetched a fortune. Lucky we don’t have to look for the toothpaste otherwise we would have to spend a hell lot of energy and resources for it

With the China-India-USA intrigue building up in the Himalayas we need little heat from global warming to melt the glaciers

Heard in the (famous for media people) Jorden restaurant:
“Are you a vegetarian?”
“No, I am a carnivore.”
“Monks in Bhutan do a lot of monk(ey)ing around”

Heard in a Bhutanese home:
Father- In the good old days, we used to go to school in shabby clothes, walk in chappals, collect firewood and water, and cook ourselves.
Son-I would rather be in the bad days

Girl 1- I paid Nu 10,000 for my new hair-do
Girl 2 to Girl 3 (in a whisper)- I would not pay a penny more to look like that!

HAVE YOU EVER LOVED....?

Have you ever loved someone so much that your heart literally bled with pain?
Have you ever loved someone so passionately yet him could never attain?
Have you ever loved someone so madly that to lose him would be gain?
Have you ever loved someone so badly that you wished you would die?
Have you ever loved someone so truly that all you wanted was his happiness at your expense?
Have you ever loved someone so much that you would not mind losing him?
Have you ever loved someone so deeply that all the pathos you could see in his eyes?
And hope to see fulfilled all his desires?
Have you ever loved someone so madly that to be close to him was your life’s wish?
Even if it could not end in a kiss?
Have you ever loved someone so much that you were willing to sacrifice your desire?
And never ever end up in a mire?
Have you ever loved someone so deeply that you could bear the distance between you two?
And all other contradictions, too!

GETTING UP AND MOVIN' AGAIN

God has been gracious.
They say repeating mistakes is a crime.
I have committed many and I have repeated them, too.
But through all my trials and tribulations, through all my guilt and self- hatred and brokenness, God has been there.
He has nurtured me as a Father would a petulant child.
And I am grateful to the Almighty that he has forgiven and forgotten my past, wiped clean the slate and presented me a pristine new sheet of paper to write my life on.
It was hard going.
When morals clashed, when madness reigned, when passions surged.
It was tough.
When guilt robbed me of inner peace, when my cherished morals were shattered, when my ideals came crashing down.
I have had my fair share of inner demons torturing me.
I have not been immune to gossip, self-condemnation and a burning resentment against God and all mankind.
I have asked the question “why?” a thousand times.
“Why me, God?” I have wailed in despair and shed copious tears.
But then I realized that you learn.
The elements can transform the crudest piece of rock into a glittering diamond.
I can’t say I have attained my ultimate form.
But I have changed, yes.
And all the bitterness, rage and heartbreaks I went through have made me a stronger person who can now comfort others going through similar predicaments.
Maybe God meant it that way.
After all, He is the Great Teacher.
And when a teacher or a parent reproves his student or child, the latter always gains.
It may take ages for him to realize the good that the cane has done him but when he does, there is nothing but gratitude.
Now that, I have been given a new lease of life, I can’t afford to commit a crime.
I can’t afford to repeat my mistakes.
Though even if I do, but return with a contrite heart, my Father remains ever welcoming with open arms.
Bertrand Russell, the famous atheist, once said: “Unless you assume a God, the question of life’s purpose is meaningless.”
What is there to life if there isn’t an “ever after?”
Isn’t everything then futile? All life’s toils and troubles?
But we carry on because we have a sense of the eternal in us.
This life is just a preparation for what comes next.
The Nazi camp survivors confirmed this. Those who survived the worst, most inhumane conditions in concentration camps had a hope that fueled their desire to live and they did not give up.
That hope was God.
As one of them, Corrie ten Boom, said: “If you look at the world you will be distressed, if you look within you will be depressed. But if you look at Christ, you will be at rest!”