Beauty of My Favorite Song

The melody of some songs and music really touches my heart. When all the splendor of this world is still and distant, it is only the resonance of songs and music that cheers me up always. It escorts me to the summit of emotional world, making me easier to combat with my restless days. Indeed, it is only the songs and music that remains close to my heart forever as my timeless companion. Sometimes I wonder how all those who do not love or listen to music can manage to escape the miseries and loneliness in life.  

The decisive factor to like a song is a little meticulous for me. Regardless of my narrow awareness on songs and music, I always try to look from the perspective of professional artiste. I consider at the creativity in music, sweetness in tune, and poetic sense in lyric. These are the atypical qualities at least in Bhutanese music, but a few still touches my heart in different ways. 

Today, the modern Bhutanese duet song, ‘Ya Namley Thredung Nima Sharno’ of lesser celebrated singer Ugyen and Minzung Lham has become my favorite song. Every quality of good music and song are perfectly harmonized in it. 

For an instance, the intro melody of the music has a sense of ‘Aija Mero Mango’ – the tune of a kid’s game. As soon as I attend to the intro music of this song, it harks back to my beautiful childhood days, which consequently cheers me to listen further. Music is clear and lines are plain, making it accessible to the heart of every music enthusiast. With lots of comparison to the beauty of nature, and insertion of occasional rhyme and rhythm, the lyric offers the sweet sense of poetry.  

In the earlier part, the male vocalist marvelously describes the beauty of bright sun in the sky and the blossom of lily on the ground. As if like a little lily budding with the beam of sun, the peerless love and affection from his sweet-heart brings much of unconditioned smile on his face. The first four lines are followed by a tuneful hum pleading his love to stay close to him forever. 

Soon after a short interlude, his sweet-heart expresses her appreciation relating to the picturesque glimpse of nature. She describes the woods and blossoms on the mountain; sweet melodies of singings birds among the trees; and the prosperous and beautiful harvest in the valley. 

The male vocalist continues thanking his sweet-heart for bringing the sun of happiness in his miserable life. He compares her with the manifestation of great Yeshi Khando which brings much pleasure to him. The tuneful hum pleading his love to stay close to him forever repeats here again. 

As if like in ending of some comedy movies, the song ends with beautiful union of true lovers. She expresses her happiness of being together in the heavenly like valley with her much-loved. She likes the times watching the beauty of nature and sharing words from their heart.  

With every beat of music and rhythm of lines the sentiment in my heart increases. As if like I am experiencing some deep romance, the song really touches my heart and virtually brings tears in my eyes. For me, I feel the essence of music with my heart, and not by my ears.

              

Songs in My Heart

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When my heart is hit with some insufferable emptiness, I even feel like to forgo this miserable life. I go all-out with various probable measures to escape from this aching loneliness, but nothing beauty of today is superior to those days gone by. The beautiful memory of the past appears in my mind incessantly as if like I am following the sequence of some romantic stories, and makes my fragile heart unconscious. 

At every crack of dawn, I open my notebook, and attempt to translate the songs of nature into words. But, with my laughable lexis, it seems like I am only lessening the sweetness of the songs. I strive to search out comparable words which can describe all the allure of the nature, but loveliness and sweetness of nature can never be descried perfectly in words. Not considering the quality of the piece that I am able to insert in my notebook, I am always pleased as long as I am able to get away from the hurting morning hours. 

Every so often, I stopover the rich flower garden and enjoy the splendour of every colour. The buzzing of the bees keeps my sense engage as if like I am attending to some saccharine melodies of celebrated singing groups. The sweet aroma of each plant never fades away with the time, and inspires me evermore. Yet, the contentment in my mind is always filled with some anxiety. The beautiful times of what went before always interrupt the pleasure of my present. 

Sometimes, when the tenderness of loneliness is relentless to accept, I choose to walk among the woods and listen to the rustling of leafs. But, leaning alone against the chest of the huge tree, sometimes I wonder if I am living or dreaming. With no songs from the bird, no moon in the sky, and no winds from the north, my world seems to be so silent as if like my wandering mind is in some seventh heaven.    

The Shadow of the Moon

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The reflection of beams of silver moon from the auburn Paro valley brings much enchantment in my forlorn hours of darkness. When the world is tinted with such a beautiful, yet momentary colour of light, I cannot bring myself to a halt from walking in its illumination. The vibrant beams make me moderately sightless as if like I am looking through some deep visors, but my unconscious mind never miss to feel its splendor.

When the moon is shining enough to give a heavenly luminosity to the earth, every earthly nature seems to be in a tranquil state as if like they are showing homage to her exceptional beauty. The singing birds lower their pitch; the chill breeze blows softer making the bare minimum possible echoes and the prayer flags as silent as a perfect yogi in the mountains. The only resonance that I hear is my own escalating heartbeat.   

Walking through the woods, I can also perceive a weak hum of soft rustling leafs above my head, making my walk even more beautiful. Thousands of silver moon rays pierce through every breaches of the trees and escorts me through the shadows of the forest. When I feel the shells of fallen leafs beneath my feet, it often perturbs my cheerfulness, but instantaneously the reflection of the moonlight impressively consoles my lost heart.  

When I am completely lost in admiration, sometimes I even forget to gulp the air, yearning for some better melodies from my adored nature. The wonderful silhouette of the moon inspires me to dream some most unattainable dreams in my life. Regardless of its bleakness, I still enjoy my dreams which are more beautiful than my real existence.              

Under the shelter of the beautiful moonlight, my memorable expeditions always end even before I could realize my own footsteps. Sometimes, I wish a journey of thousand miles if the beauty of nature is on its acme always, where I can forget the stern pain of my heart.  

Beams of silver moon brings me much delight but always filled with some anxiety, because deep in my mind, I know that shortly it will fade away in the empty sky leaving me all alone. The scenic exquisiteness that I enjoy today brings much happiness in my mind, but the missing heart that follows is more painful.                

Wishing for some more days

Falling of leafs in the autumn days is the natural phenomenon that nobody can change. Even the expected nature has no influence over this truth. But the falling leafs of autumn, 2011 fetches different sentiment in me. The golden leafs of willow trees rustling with the pace of winter wind really touches my heart. As if like attending to the death-bell, the jingling of tiny golden leafs reminds me of something unpleasant – the pain of missing. 

Watch the flowing Paa Chhu, and you will find bizarre beauty in it. Like never before, the water in it are crystal clear presenting the unique mosaic beautifully blend with colorful pebbles. The jazzy dance of glittering silver fish in the shaft of sunbeams is the rich visual feast under the autumn sun. Even the rhythm and melodies of Roaring River is perfectly harmonized with the songs of nature, making my last days at Paro more beautiful.  

Fluttering of the prayer flags on the face of holy hills and splendid views of temples reminds me of spiritual life. I never realized that the wish-fulfilling jewels – the abode of God are close to me. My materialistic dream of excelling in academic has utterly diminished my path to enlightenment. Today, when my days at Paro is on count-down stage, at some deep level of my psyche I realize that I have overlooked much gold in the due course of staring at some sparkling silvers. I can only wish for some more days.        

           

The beauties of all beauty are hidden till the closing stages. And so is with the beauty of my college days. The delight that I benefit from this last movement is beyond measure. Even the birds seem to sing sweeter. The autumn trees swing more with the rhythm of northern wind as if like they own monopoly over the last episode of my college life. 

College days are deviant – the flexible manmade law, and not the natural phenomenon. Still, the law is so stringent that not a soul can avoid it irrespective of excellent performance both in academic or co curricular. Essentially, every event that the college imposes is for the benefit of us. But, who would like ‘Graduation Day’ or ‘Farewell Party’ when it only reminds us of our painful departure which is impatiently waiting for us. It is no better than hearing the frightening jingle of death-bell.  

The icy hands of nature seem to be increasingly waving now. The only choice left for me is to miss the scenic beauty of Paro – the valley of wisdom. When I am alone in some far-flung valleys of the country, I will miss my college days and friends a lot. Yet, when the silver moon is bright in the sky, I will send my sincere wishes for all my friends. If the beams of moon pierce into your room, then remember that it is me who sent it just for you. I will share all my joys and miseries through the rays of moonlight. If the full moon is dazzling high in the sky, just watch it and think that somewhere else, someone is still watching with you.                         

The Reason Why I Write

First thing that I must admit is that I am not a writer. I am just a scribbler who scribbles everything that comes into my mind. I never expect anyone to read it too, after all it is just that I am filling up my open diary. I keep the record of just three occasions of my life: Happy, Sad, and Normal. For me, emotions are never complete until I put them into some visible words.  

With my narrow vocabulary and suspicious grammar, I always inscribe my random thoughts and uncertain experiences into at least 200 words a day. A few I contribute to flourishing print media, some goes into my open diary (blog), while others remain unpublished in my top-secret folder. The most dismal part of my selfish leisure pursuit is that, sometimes I write for the whole day only to delete everything at the end. I may not like my work, or I find it inhospitable for my chance audience who purposefully or inadvertently put their eyes on it. However, the satisfaction that I attain at the end of the day is never the different. As far as I am able to spend my time in writing, I am contented.  

I seldom refer encyclopedia, dictionary or internet to find some standard words or appealing ideas. It only impedes my creativity. For me my place of competence in language in the eye of my audience is least important. I just arrange whatever words that comes in my mind into most possible sweet ways. I value the sensation of sweetness that comes out of reading than the level of status that it illustrates.  

Further, I never sit and hunt for the topics to write, but it is topics that twist my arm to write. The only dilemma in my pastime is when I am left blind, unable to choose one from all. But, my personal phantasm often dominates my writing topics. For instance, sometimes, I immerse myself deep into some imaginative love stories. In my paradise of imagination, bashfulness and imperfectness notwithstanding, I am able to express my whole feelings in sweetest language. I am able to experience the complete sweetness of love only when I put my imaginings into words. 

Nature is my all time source of inspiration. As far as nature is alive, I will not go down. I will listen to the songs of nature, and make it echo visibly in my open diary. Still, I am not a writer, I am just a scribbler.

The rock speaks…

Facing the western sun, I have been still and desolately watching the habitual life of Paro from the time I was born. I cannot remember my own age exactly. But I still remember some weaken memories of infamous Paro Penlop Tshering Penjor and Agay Haap. As far as I remember, they are the most authoritative power that occupied the majestic Rinpung Dzong, only next to Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyel. Many historic facts of Paro and afar are spilling over from my memory, but will not interest you much, I guess so.

I have enjoyed the princely comfort of this world in my early days. I had several friends, mostly the naive monks of chief abode of Rinpung. They jog, run and play around me while I enjoy watching them mutely. The caring women of nearby villages visit me habitually and offer pure and spanking new foods. They clean my environs and paint my faces. The delicious aroma of their burning incense always pleases me. I use to be keen on the offerings of their new harvest in every fall. My desire are for eternity to keep the so called ‘The Rice Bowl of Bhutan’ be filled with rich grains. 

My status and morality has dropped down to ground during my teens. To my dismay, my part had been identified as a soil for capital punishment. I made countless prayers but all in vain. None of my God answered; or even listened to it. By then, loads of immoral men have been penalized to death here. Soon, many rumors have been born from the imaginary mind of innocent people. All fictitious stories of ghost have feared the people, and I am looked as an abode of treacherous spirit.         

Somehow, the stereotyped mindset of people has diminished since the ban of death penalty in Bhutan. Thank you, the peerless kings of Bhutan. 

Some years ago, the motor road had been constructed to connect the two at odds units of PCE (Paro College of Education). The neatness is maintained under the kind directives of the college. Now I belong to PCE. I smile to show my immense gratitude when I see PCE family moving to and fro, but still unseen. I am happy to be adopted by PCE, and seems like I will not be able thank enough in my life and living. 

Even though, I am terrifying dark rock for some weak hearts, I am helpful for many of my friends who pass by. I bless all the passer by, with knowledge and wisdom. I am dwelling for lovers and hiding site for suspicious minds. Irrespective of love or offense, I like people seeking refugee here. Some lovers swear to live together till their last breath while others just remain silent unable to utter a word. Some suspicious heart beats loud, while others remain in tranquil. I pray best for everyone who comes here. 

Recently, a group of good soul from PCE came and cleared all the dust that had been settled for about a decade on my face. They explored the sanctified alphabets and highlighted it with vibrant paints. I regained my beauty and holy in the eye of people around. Further, the other aspiring artist came together and made my face as bright as the goddess of beauty. I never even in my dream thought that such happiness will befall on me at this age. I never found a way to thank them, but their kind deeds will remain imprinted in my heart forever. 

(Dedicated to: Singye Dorji EPA, Kelzang HP and group)

         

 

       

Dreaming of a Better World

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In my boyhood, I often stare out of the classroom window, and get completely lost in a daydream. My friends and teachers use to bother me, but my outlook on daydream is never the same to theirs. For me, daydreaming is never a depletion of time, nor a hunter of happiness. It is indeed, only the daydream that is able to take me to the summit of contentment. Even today, I spend hours daydreaming on all the beauty beyond this world. The happiness that I obtain from the world of dream is always greater than the happiness that I obtain from the world I stand on.         

 

I would stare at the snowcapped mountains and fanaticize myself to be the princess of snow – the snow leopard. I live in the mountain paradise where my mind as pure as sparkling snows and my body as strapping as marble. Nothing melancholy in my mind perturbs my cheerfulness as long as I live with the shadows of gorgeous mountains. 

Every so often, I dream myself to be the singing bird high in the sky. Watching the splendor of every trees and grasses I can reach far and wide to the places I wish. I can sing the finest songs with the harmony of breeze and please all thoughtful inhabitants on the ground. As a bird, I can flee from all the insufferable miseries of this world, and live in the cloud nine forever.  

In some ascending nights, I watch the crescent moon hanging high in the sky, and wish my memorable past to appear again. The shafts of moon light evokes my cherished time when I was with my dearly loved ones in some beautiful moonlit night, walking through the woods and sharing words from our heart. For me, recalling some of my treasured times silently only brings double happiness.  

When the melancholies that befall in my life are relentless, I even dream of entering into the world of intoxication. A perfect world of phantasm blended with the beams of colors and echoes of music. Where I can forget the stern pain of my heart and relax in the world of fun.   

At this time, if I am ever asked to make one last prayers, I would ask my God to make this world as serene as I wish OR to keep me eternally in my dreamland. I would rather prefer to close my eyes forever and stay in my world of illusion than to endure such painful miseries of this perceptible world.          

My Lost Pigeon

Every evening, I spend some time in my veranda attending to the sweet echoes of nature. All the thing of beauty: the mountains, the streams, and the trees sing their finest tone for the loyal ears. Even the innocent mortals like birds exhibit some ideal human moral fiber, which is enthralling to watch and emotive to sense.  Now I feel that life is never perfect until you listen to the songs of nature. 

Autumn twilight presents the lively sight for the aspiring writers and visual artist. Even the meek and mild birds like pigeon flies out of their balmy nest to show homage to the descending beauty of mother of all nature – the sun.  

In the recent days, I was enjoying the cuteness of a lovely pigeon couple, who always saunter near me in the sundown. As if like a typical lover Romeio and Julet, the intensity of love and care that they share is beyond my mind's eye. Often lazy they spend a lot the day chilling out in trees and sharing the words from their heart, as if like they understand that love is never perfect until it is shared.  

Occasionally, they fool around like Tom and Jerry irritating each other. They press on, dart or scream and stay separately for some time, but they always come back together at the end. Seems like deep in their heart, they never wanted to lose each other. Until now, I never realized that the love that we witness is sometimes sweeter than the love that we experience. 

An hour before, I was out watching the heartrending sunset. The cold northern wind is strong enough to make the autumn leafs sing. The mountains are high as usual, and the streams flowing at a snail's pace. But the song of nature seems to be missing something today. Like never before, the rhythm of her every tune seems to be low down.

Most sorrowfully, one of my lovely pigeons – the cock has gone today. The hen was all alone, sitting forlornly on my windowsill. Her eyes are as red as a ground cherry, which visibly confirm that she shed a tear of blood for him. She was staring feebly to the available feathers of her love. The soreness in her heart is so perceptible and powerful to have me tearing up. I wish I can reprimand that pussy cat, which ruined the beautiful romance of blameless creature.    

Now, I will not visit my veranda any more. I don’t want to watch the sunset in the evening too, because it will only remind me of my lost lovely pigeon. Als! Sometimes, it is better not to recall our beautiful times. It only brings second loneliness in our heart. The song of nature is sweet, but its sorrow is bitterer.                

The Song of Nature

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Some lost nights; I just open my notebook, and stare around to decide on the several of topics that I aspire to inscribe. Writing keeps me so close to the beauty of nature, and thus keeps me away from the world of loneliness. The beauty of nature is invaluable, that not even the riches of this world can purchase, nor the power can be in command of. Yet, nature is an omnipresent companion for the people of all walks of life.  

When the song of nature is sweeter than ever before, I get completely lost in admiration. I forget the stern pain in my heart, fear of examination and brutality of weather. You may find me so forlorn, but I cannot be lonely as long as there is nature around me. It is possible for a person to be lonely in the crowd, and then it is also possible for a person to be cheerful all alone. For many, friends should be vigorous, but some prefers silent company of nature who can still touch each other’s heart.  

Sometimes, I remain around persistently till late night just to attend to the midnight songs of singing birds. The melodies that are heard in sunshine are sometimes negligible when compared to that of midnight songs. Sometimes, I even forget to respire when the harmony of her songs are sweet to my ears. Songs are the ordinary aural feast for the loving ears, but for me I feel its melody. Sometimes, I wish if the singing bird could recognize her earnest audience, who is so fond of her songs. 

My God almighty, I need my singing bird to be around me forever. Her songs have become my finest companion and now I cannot live without it. Beauty of friendship is sweet, but the pain of missing that follows are more severe.         

Dreaming of Jomolhari

Beyond White and Cold

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What we see white on the mountain tops in the chilly winter days are not merely a snow. Just as a nightingale for John Keats and loving heart for a love birds, sparkling of snow are the best view for the sightseers. Thousands of tourist visit highlands to watch the falling of snow from heaven to the earth in the winter days.          

Likewise, for the group at Ura, snow is more allied to their serious living than their leisure life. It has both its spiritual and secular significance. Thus, some snowfalls are distinguished even more than the Tibetan New Year at Ura. With its pure color and chill sensation, comes the luck and riches for the community – they believe.  

Just like in prophet Isaiah, snow signifies the purity; Ura’s mores cannot deny the fact the snow is the God of Harvest. Happiness in the mind of Uraps finds no bound when they see their village and its environs covered by the thick mantle of snow. Snow brings more hope for the farmers for the reason that the flat terrain crops like wheat, buckwheat and millets are directly associated with the water drops of the melting snow.

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For the spiritual monks high on the mountains, snow is the imagery of good luck. They foresee the days with the sun of happiness for the inhabitants living in his vicinity. The elderly people even rejoice the snowy day with all the yummy foods and vivid cloths. Furmity warmed with local egg is the prominent menu in the feast during the snowy day at Ura.

Beyond spiritual significance, snow also brings an immense excitement for the youths. Like in snowy country of New Zealand and Switzerland, the game of Snow-War is seen everywhere until the snow completely transform its appearance to Cristal runny. Some build snowman while others engage themselves fully in recording the finest scenes before the exquisiteness of snow is lost in the hand of scorching sun.         

Remembering My Apprenticeship

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The eight months of apprenticeship at Dechen Pelri Community Primary school has been rather triumphant for me. It was the thorniest experience in my days but at the same instance it was a great experience that I know I will never forget. I had learned to learn and teach but learned more from my students than what I taught to them.

As I gaze back at my apprentice teaching, I just feel humiliated and disgraced. I have wasted quite a lot of government’s money and my precious time just to blight a number of brilliant students of Dechen Pelri. And at this point I feel like saying sorry to my dear students. I had used a very traditional method of teaching which brought lots of confusion and suspicion to my students.

I feel so awful for Thinley Dorji of class IV for closing my eyes upon him throughout my apprenticeship. He is a mentally disadvantaged little boy and I thought that there won’t be alternative special way to educate him. I just let him to carry out whatsoever he likes. But at this moment I apprehended that I had done a grave mistake. I have left him alone behind and now I am concerned as to who will lend a hand for him to come up. Now I have learned that there is a modus operandi for each category of child to educate them.

I have controlled my students by demanding them to fold their little cute arms and to maintain a complete silence during my teaching. I in no way inquired for their views in my entire teaching, which at this time I feel is too odd; and a rather outdated teacher. I have just clogged the views of children which they fetched from home to share among their little classmates. I on no account had a notion that at times the child is creative, resourceful and artistic.  I had just obstructed my students from beautiful days ahead.    

To be forthright, I have utterly failed in the field of Measurement and Evaluation. I haven’t reserved any evidence of the continuous assessment; I haven’t set any criteria for marking a child’s progress but rather done a miscarriage of judgment. I have done a foul play with my smart little students.

Today, after 3 years of intensive training, I comprehended all those sorry state of affairs. At the moment not just from my lips but from the inner part of my heart, I would like to plead sorry for suchlike erroneous deeds I’ve done for Dechen Pelri community. Never the less, here I would like to express gratitude to the Principal, teachers, students and parents of Dechen Pelri for lending their hand for making my days of apprentice beautiful and memorable.

If I could acquire an alternative to serve another time, I’ll give my word to be the driving force for the youth of Dechen Pelri.

A Picturesque Glimpse of Pangkhar

The Last Surviving Prayer Wheel

Ta Mani -

The Long Prayer Wheel

Gigantic Stone Bridge Built by Dung Nakpo

The Last Surviving Watermill 

The Ruin of Prayer Wheel