Monday, June 25, 2018

Losing a Son

Will I ever know the pain of a father losing a son at his prime adolescence? I might understand but can never feel his pain. Seeing him broken makes me feel that the god has been little harsh this time by taking the son; leaving pain and despair for family. The fact that they couldn’t even get his remains aggravate the loss. The real loss, no one really saw it coming.

One unfortunate day, a father gets call from unknown number informing that his son has been washed away by the river, and the search team has been sent to retrieve a ‘body’. Numb with the news, the choice of word ‘body’ pricks his sense with the possible truth that his son is no longer alive. Wails from home reverberated in the valley, gathered crowd couldn’t lessen the pain. While the mother and daughter cries their heart out, father scold them that their son is still alive, praying it to be true. Who was he trying to fool, them or his every broken pieces? He tried his best to stand firm, it broke us to see him crying like a baby while pretending to wash his face. He couldn’t even grieve openly, that’s how men usually are.

His son has kept everything intact at home, with the promise to return home. A promise he failed to keep; he specifically ask his mother to keep his favorite Chelsea jersey, it is still hanging on wall while ‘buray gho’ they have ordered for his graduation is still lying in the cupboard. He is gone too soon to be true, a father says. Had he known that he will be gone this soon, he wished he hugged him tight during his last departure and said how much he loves him.

They couldn’t even get to see the body to say a proper farewell. The alienation and desolation speaks a volume about his loss. His smile no longer reaches his eyes. Time was supposed to fill and heal the loss, however with every passing day, the burden of losing a son seems to weigh him down; gnawing from inside as his bone are projecting outside.

Whenever, someone calls ‘Dorji’, he turns back to see the person and always wish him to be his son. The undeniable hope and then despair is visible to whole universe, longing for his son continues. We might forget with the time but will he? I think there should have been proper closure for them to say goodbye to each other.

Friday, December 22, 2017

Gray Rainbow

The world seems to have stopped
Its move at your doorsteps.
Those melted clock on the wall,
Frozen yogurt in the fridge,
Laden dust in the corner
And the stopped heart at other.

Barely a whisper lacked the meaning
And the life has lost its luster,
Never imagined a gray rainbow; it existed
When the seasons of color mourn
And existence began to heavily weigh
Beyond the will to carry on.

The never enough winter’s sunshine
To light the smile on everyone’s face.
Those eyes, full of thousand stories,
Buried all when she closed for the last time.
The world is a miracle of miseries
Ready to applaud when it is others’.

Friday, July 7, 2017

Fighting Them

For hours, I flipped the pages going deeper through the eyes of Toru Watanabe in Norwegian Wood. I finally gave up to strained eyes and striking midnight. The fatigue easily induced sleep. Long before I could process the thoughts or complain about the nights, I subconsciously slipped into another world. The monsoon and rain, not much to complain.

I woke in the middle of the night by soft knock on the door followed by the bouncing of basketball. Alarmed, I reached for cellphone to check the time ‘Seriously? 1:48am, who the hell is playing basketball at this hour?’ The urge to get out and smack the punk was more than failing heart at that moment.

My ghost walked through bedroom door, main door and verandah door without unlatching a single door. She had a cricket bat clasped tightly. FYI a cricket bat from neighboring kid. Black tights were complimented well by the black boots and leather jacket, a top tied hair and fire in her eyes. The full moon illumination made it picture perfect just like a scene from a movie.

As light as she walked inching closer to them, she never felt stronger in years. The smirk on her lips, determination to teach lesson to those bastards and upright posture almost gave chill to those immature punks. She scanned around to each face and counted the head. As per her quick mental calculation she jumped high, kicked all six of them subsequently and landed with a class. She beat two of them with bat while still kicking and pinning others with her boots. The groans and cries made her to stop beating the shit out of them. She almost beat them again and warned with conviction to never disturb the neighborhood again. They agreed instantly and ran away feebly.

With the triumphant smile and fireworks in the background, she threw the bat in a style and walked as if she owned the night putting shame to the witnessing stars and a moon. Yes, without unlocking, she passed all three doors and came to celebrate with me. She looked radiant glowing with the undisputable confidence.

There she found me cornered at bed, draped in blanket clutching the bed sheet, sweating profusely, holding a pee, prayer beads in hand and chanting ‘Om Ah Hung Benza Guru Pema Siddhi Hung’ thousand times.

Friday, June 30, 2017

Savvy Time

She waited for him to return for so long
Savvy was the time, who witnesses the futility of the wait
Cruelty of the fate, duality of the game played by thy love.
The innocence perishes with the betrayal
The pain was slyed with the veil of hatred.
Did her heart bleed and eyes puff from crying?
Nah, she was too strong for the display of weakness
From the continuous denial of the emotion surfacing,
She eventually became void of emotions.
Savvy was the time, a witness of all
It will unfold what fate has stored for her
Will time seal the past and heal the pain?
Nah, fate seems to have another sinister plan.

Musing: Note to Self

The usual emotional rollercoaster ride in recent times had me thinking for so long and ultimately knocked me with the revelations of the blessings in my life. Admittedly I have had enough of complaining and whining, exaggerated the petty things and started being so pessimist for so long to lose the days of my life. Now, when I take a long breath and look into my life I realize I am truly blessed to have so many things in my life. I take a moment to be grateful for the gracious generosity bestowed upon me by life, of course in an abundance. I have everything I needed and more than that I am gifted with the ability to achieve whatever I need. I am not going to belittle the beauty of life by worrying or complaining.

Just another day in a regular conversation with myself, I was grinning like a fool for many satisfying experiences with the life. Sometimes it is in the little things we find the joy of life. My preference over life have really changed in a recent times such as listening to light and happy songs to sad melodious songs (when I listen to sad songs these days, I cringed my nose realizing how depressing it sounds), bright color of clothes I pick and the way I swirl and twirl in a room with the loud music in the background.

Isn’t life too beautiful to live worrying? Mental note to self :D Leave worry at bay; don’t worry even if you are not doing as good as you expected (you are doing better than many), don’t panic even if you make mistakes (that is way you are learning and the proof that you are trying), it is ok to be broken sometimes (you will learn to stitch yourself up) and the most importantly if you are feeling the crest and trough of life, girl you are living the life in a right way. There is nothing wrong in making mistakes; it is ok to fall in love and get your heart broken, it is ok to get snapped while arguing with boss, it is ok to get into arguments with subordinates older than you, it is sometimes ok to fight with siblings or disappoint parents, it is ok to drift apart from friends, it is ok to dream big and fight for it, it is ok to feel everything at once and nothing at next.

So see, not a big deal. Stay positive, stay happy. Thank you, I am grateful for everything.

Thursday, May 25, 2017

A Cup of Tea

“A cup of tea.” I said. 

“Anything else.” She asked. 

“No, thanks. I just had a lunch.” I said. I looked into the diagonal pattern of table cloths in red and white, stain from ezay was still there. Mental note to self, if I open a restaurant, never to buy a white linen clothes. But white is a color of purity, only if you can keep it clean.

I started guessing the dimension of the room, looking at the aesthetic view of particle board paneling on the wall but timber paneling would have been better, rich creamy colour of wall and I was doing everything to keep myself from running away.

Run away but why and from whom?

“Hey? Tshering? Why are you so lost?”

I jerked from the inner monologue and her confused inquiring eyes made me more perplexed.

“Huh? Sorry, nothing.” I said and looked into beautiful frame with a black and white painting of an old man. I stopped breathing when I looked at the serenity and contentment on his face despite ragged clothes, barefoot and scarred face.

“Tssheringgg.” Her cautious voice gently tugged me out from envious happiness of old man in a painting.

“Huh…yes.” I noticed a cup of tea in front of me and coffee on her side.

“You are doing it again.” She said sternly.

“What?” my mind fail to assemble what she was saying.

“Mumbling to yourself, cracking knuckles and existing in different world.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“What is bothering you?”

to be happy, which seems impossible for me. Am I asking too much?”

“What do you mean by wanting to be happy? Aren’t you happy?”

“I know I should be happy: I having a successful and stable career, loving people around me, have everything needed in life except happiness.”

“Define happiness.” I avoided her intensifying glare.

“Something is not right. There is no inner peace, I am perplexed and agitated all the time. I am not satisfied with life. Look at that picture on the wall. All I want is serenity and contentment in that old man’s face. Look at him, he has nothing yet everything.” I saw people around me, staring. Maybe I was louder than I intended.

“Why aren’t you happy?”

I didn’t bother to answer as I gulped a cold tea in a one go. Coldness of a tea didn’t bother me but life did.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

An Escape from Life

Last December, I quit both my job and relationship because I wasn’t happy. It made sense in every way, I didn’t find a reason to live by compromising with my happiness. I simply walked away from things that made me unhappy. I realized I am good at walking away. But how long and far will I walk away from the people and things? I wrapped up things with my job and love, packed and came to place to start a new life. Fast forward six months, new things aren’t new anymore and I am not happy. I was wrong, changing place and people will not change unless I change myself. But staying in one place for long sickens me. A fresh start won’t help unless you are that old whining you. I am constantly questioning myself “What do I want?”, “Happiness” Is an instant answer. Is it too much to ask for? I don’t think I am reasonably being unreasonable by asking for it. What is happiness? There, you see I get stuck, I don’t know what happiness is? Nothing scares me more than not knowing what makes me happy.  

Recent visit to Dungkhar in the locality had me there for long time even after I returned to my place. While going up to the place, I felt the feeling I never felt before. I was so contented walking, it was like I was a different person at that junction; calm, peaceful and happy person. That moment was a rare combo persona of myself. I didn’t feel like returning. It is a possible choice if I ever escaped this so called living.

Another escape would be owning a library of my own. I will never have enough books provided those borrowed books are returned to me on time. I bury my weekend by snuggling in a blanket reading books. This is my kind of solace from the work and life. I recently asked my friend “Is there any kind of job that will pay me for reading?” “Be a writer.” She said.  I thought ‘Only if writing is as easy reading’. Why do I escape from the real world and transit in virtual world? A simple answer is ‘I am so tired of fake people around.’ People are scary, vicious, manipulative and cruel. Now you see the reason why I can’t trust people easily. I met my share of people to know enough that human are so unpredictable. So, people outside and books inside is my philosophy of life. If I can’t travel across the globe, let me know the world through books. One day I will sum up my courage, wrap up so called existing in the name of living and start living in a real sense, doing what I really love even if it is difficult.