The Weather of Memory

The village magistrate sat on a throne which resembled a miniature hilltop and him like some proverbial deity on it. Somewhere below which probably would remind you of a vast valley, stood similar to a dot, our hero with his kabney on. On this particular day, our hero had frightful back pain and in an ill-fated turn of events our deity on the hilltop noticed it with no uncertain terms that our hero was not bowing to him in a way of respect. This triggered the wrath of the deity on the hilltop that our hero could literally count the doma spits liberating out of the hilltop deity. This doma that spits of authority now lay all over the place. Of course, the distance between our characters was some light-years away, but our hero had that gift of an extraordinary vision that he could account for all the remains of doma that came out of the doma-stained mouth of our hilltop deity. For the first few moments he exactly counted the doma dregs to what we usually refer to as number th...

Do you believe in things you can't have? I had those rare feelings of knowledge The first time I saw you, but How cruel 'that' knowledge seems If I hadn't promised 'that' one thing No, you wouldn't want me still... I wonder... Is this coincidence? To mix my thoughts and life with love This love for you, those rare feelings..? But a life of coincidences prevails I took my time this morning I didn't want to be early Someone asked how I felt I said I didn't feel anything There was a stone in place of my heart The shortcoming of looking for love… I walk in, feel the same loneliness But nothing will ever be the same again I want to identify love I am not sure I am short of that I am not even sure if I like love But it had to stop for sometime Pain is easy to write Joy, yet harder to express somewhere And love never ends Does it? This has been the cruelest month, mixing Love with failure, but In ...

I am a pretty normal bachelor, for the most part, in the capital city of Thimphu. However, a few days back, my father paid me a visit, traveling two nights and three days from the village. And he has claimed that the village Gup gave a sermon (But what I feel is that it must have been one of those Gup talks) on Gross National Happiness. Now, my father urges me I should get married right away reinforcing it’s a matter of the state—a piece of advice that I am never able to take in favorably, along with GNH. Blame Thimphu girls for the former, Gross National Equal-ness for the latter. (To be happy, everyone should be equal, once my colleague had pointed out, which still rings in my head frightfully). The Gup had convinced the villagers to achieve the philosophy of GNH, every bachelor should be married. My father thus had the wisdom to say, “I don’t understand how you keep yourself happy without a girl in your life”. “In my time, a young man like you would be fathering a few kids, eq...

It was seven O’clock and at this time of the evening, the streets of Thimphu were illumed by different colors of light and the Thimphu populace moved in a zombie trance, the purpose of which was hard for an average intellect to pin down coherently. Our hero, Tashi, resembled the crowd in the respects of zombie movement but he moved past the only movie theatre in the city with quick steps. The legendary movie hall is said to house Nilkamal plastic chairs and mosquitoes enough to suck a single viewer down to skins (keeping in mind, mosquitoes are not interested in bones). Rumor has it that a doctor while watching a premiere once remarked “The infesters here in the theatre could put the blood bank in the national referral hospital to shame!” And the doctor never went near the theatre in the future, not because he disliked the movies shown there, but for the fear of mosquitoes loitering freely in the hall. (I even heard he drafted a letter requesting the people responsible for traffic ru...

Peach trees blooming everywhere; I fell asleep on my desk; Not a darn thing to worry about; I lay there, like a dead log Lumbering over my work desk; Spring is here, at last!

Alone And deep into the night, When reason meets insanity, You long For times gone. A face draws beautifully To your imagination; Your sorry solace. A cup of ara on the table And memories of a beautiful past. You take a sip from the cup; Only to burn your inner self. Another sip, another thought... You draw semblance in love and ara: Its funny how you try forgetting Only to remember And miss it more... You retire To a reverie of the most exciting thoughts: - Thoughts of a singular lovely face. Love and ara, Locked in a dead grip: Your weakness. A tear drop grazes your cheek, The joys of heaven, You reason. Deep within, Chained to your nature, Your thoughts in trains are But Just a subject, Subject to your delusions of love. You love Only to employ feelings of indifference. You drink Only to thrist for more. You see As far as your dreams. The rest Is oblivion . Slowly Your senses draw a vague picture A p...

Down by the river On, and across the dark rocks Drops of life In full beauty, Now with spring The cherries blossom In the thickets of the streets Along the hopes of time I walk… Looking for a familiar face In the crowd, you stand Among the cherry blossoms of my thoughts Now, beside a barren tree, I rest Basking in your love. Cherry blossom in the air Beauty against the wind of times To love is transporting Beautiful, but hurting Painful, yet not lasting Here, but ever changing Will we ever die? And forever live? Passing thoughts, pressing moments Moving crowds, falling blossoms Rising hopes, dying reality But, for now In the spring of hopes, In the blossom of flowers, In the dew drops of mornings, In bosom of your warm thoughts Life moves on, ever beautiful…

There you go again... With that murky face Have you no respect for life? For fun, of smiles? There you go again... With that murky face For the love of mirth; Gently, peel off your face There you go again.... That you have lost your face; I smile...

Where are my knees? I try, I try... Hem of my skirt-length dress drops at the top of my knee is all I can see, but I cant feel a thing. My knees are non-existent, by feeling. Some blame the wintry Thimphu cold, some their ancestors. But we take the blunt of it all, the anger of the seasons and the mistake of our ancestors. How long, before we can keep our knees warm without shame? How long, before we can feel and see our knees in winter? The answer still awaits my bleating prayers and ice-cold knees!

Building blocks of language... The articulatory speech of thoughts that defines me, you and the environment so well is communicated through these building blocks. In words, we live. Without them, we are fading shadows. Beauty be words;- whipping and nurturing at our wits!

A letter of placement at the then Regional Engineering College, Durgapur, came through the office of the Royal Civil Service Commission in September, 2001. It was quite thrilling to learn about the confirmation of placement after having waited for a long time. It was learnt that nine of us were placed at the same Regional College. The prospect of reaping unfathomable experience over the next four years in the college, learning newer knowledge and skills, amongst new friends and environment kept us fully occupied during our journey towards the college. The very first trip onward the reputed college at Durgapur via Kolkota without proper itinerary, guide and schedule was not so pleasant, though memories would languish itself in funny recollection of our destitutions. Moreover, none of us had traveled to the city before. The endless hours of waiting at the Howrah train station was more menacing than being cheated by the taxi drivers. Having waited for more than five hours, we left Howr...

(Everywhere across whatever sorrows of which our life is woven, some radiant joy will gaily flash past!) Date:14 th  September 2007 Time: 7 PM- Venue: Lovely Bar Present, in alphabetical order: Chabilal Bastola Deewakar Chhetri Heruka Zangpo Singay Dorji Sonam Phuntsho Tenzin Dendup Guests: Nar Bahadur Sanjay Gurung The evening of 14 th  September 2007 had started drizzling and the graduates of 2005, Durgapur, had slowly started gathering, one by one, with Chabilal and Deewakar having reached the venue before everyone, shortly joined by Singay, then Tenzin and Sonam. The last one to come, Heruka was late, defying all managerial sense of timing! Nar Bahadur and Sanjay Gurung were the guests of honor. For the ones who had reached on time, they had started the night off with a cup of tea, save for Sonam who had kick-started with a cup of coffee. Hardly had they finished drowning their cups of tea and coffee, Singay suggested to starting with the “...