Miti – friendship mightier than a blood relation

My house, back in my village, was unusually different that day. People of all walks of life in and around the village stopped their fieldwork, and arrived at my house. All of them wore their fresh clothes, neat hair.

The smell of delicious foods flooded everywhere, and the laughter of children simply filled the air. It was a breathlessly exciting day in the village, everyone around looked happy. By the way, it’s not wedding or any other pujas taking place in the house. A miti ceremony was taking place between my father and his friend. They have long known each other; were good friends.

However, that day they decided to become mit, a friend in Hindu culture that was considered way precious than a blood relation. It was widely practised in the southern Bhutan, but now gradually disappearing. And to become a mit with your friends, you had to undergo the miti ceremony, rather vigorously.

All the villagers, relatives and children crammed in a place where the ceremony was taking place. My father and his friend sat on the mats facing each other, all cheerful and a little bit nervous too. Their wives (and my own mothers) seated next to them.

The village elder began the ceremony, chanting a prayer. It had lots of rituals, in fact, to be followed solemnly. After the prayer was said and done, two friends were barred with a cloth piece, signifying that they were before strangers.

They prostrated to each other.

The cloth piece was removed, meaning that now they were no more strangers. Again, they prostrated. For the next bit of time, they exchanged khadars and gifts.

The village elder, once again, continued the prayer as the two friends exchanged rings. The prayer ended, the rings exchanged - eventually, they were pronounced as miti, precious friends.

The two friends, tied the miti knot, would remain as miti, for eternity. They would unfailingly show respect for each other and consider enormous support for each other, in any circumstances.

Then the two miti would go around the room, talking to the fellow-villagers. They would put tika on their foreheads and distribute money to each and every one. In return, they would receive blessings and prayers from all the villagers. 

Refreshments and alcohols were distributed to all the guests, young and old. After that, a feast was served, delicious shel roti and lunch.  

As the night fell on the day, more people gathered. It meant more foods, more drinks. Some would play cards. Young boys, neatly dressed, would court the village beauties. Others would drink and dance hard, all night, until the next dawn.

Note: I wrote this post only to record the miti ceremony. It was hugely practised in the past in southern Bhutan, but today gradually disintegrating. Also, it’s to remember the powerful legacy of my family, and place, what I am born into, what we pass down, and what we preserve. 

Pulling closer my beloved ones

 

I fell sick. Worst of all, I was bedridden. But quite amazingly, all my siblings and friends have attended to me. They rendered all kinds of supports they could do for me - taking me to the hospital, buying me medicines, cooking foods. All this really worked magic on me. Because today I’m recovered and doing all good.

I feel that I’m blessed.       

And so, going forward, I want to tell you how I had muddled my health. I hate to say it though. For the past six months, I was insanely lost in the busyness. I think I’ve to call it workaholic. I had become that person.

I didn’t know it’s a disease until I fell sick. This, in fact, is the ultimate effect of it. Isn’t it? Being a workaholic is the recipe for bad life, best I could tell. It didn’t permit me to enjoy the beauty of life. Always, I was caught in the busy and demanding situation of life.

Hard to say, but I had less or no time for what I loved to do. I didn’t read much. I didn’t write lots, too. I forgot to watch the sunset. I hardly visited my siblings, relatives and friends. And barely did I spend quality time with them, on them. In actuality, I was building wall against them, shunning myself away in my own work.

That being said, I missed a lot of things like that, big and little.        

However, this realization came early. Thank goodness. It’s all that my health couldn’t really tolerate it anymore. Oh, how fragile we are. How vulnerable we are. The world’s tremors and storms could easily maul us.

So all we have is who we have. Our beloved ones. When I was sick and when my own beloved ones were standing near, I felt way better. I feel safe and blessed when I’m surrounded by them.   

From right then, I started saying NO to many things. I resigned from Go Youth Go (GYG). And also I discontinued a few other projects and simply declining taking more.

Now I’m pulling my siblings and relatives even closer. To spend more time with them. To join and cherish the spontaneous laughter with them. They are the greatest gifts of all and all that.

Also, I’m spending much of my weeks in the company of my soul friends. We get better when we open our hearts to them. And a comforting hug, a sincere smile, a word of encouragement often makes our day a little happier and less hard.

Share your flowers, share happiness

I know my friend Tashi Namgay would be very proud to see this flower - blooming beautiful, red. What’s there for you bigger joy than seeing your own flower from your garden taken away by your friend and blooming now out there?

Two years back, I got this flower from Tashi’s house. A tiny sapling. Immediately, it sprouted into two. So I gave away another to my college friend. In fact, it’s the first flower I planted for my new house, then. And blooming, too. I also got others, but they withered, died.

Now this flower, stemmed into two big separated organs, really beautifies my apartment. Sometimes, it attracts humming bees, colourful dragonflies and even unknown insects. Everyday, I protect it from the wind and rain. 

It gives me boundless joy and happiness just to nurture it, water it, moreover, just to behold it.

Please share your flowers, share happiness. 

Photograph

I miss those times when I used to sit for hours and write for my blog. I do, really. Even I miss those times when I used to jump from one blog to another reading your wonderful posts. Eh, my blog has remained un-updated for almost two weeks now. I’ve a lame excuse here, though, I was busy. But dear readers, I’ve here photograph of a beautiful flower that I took it today in my office garden. Have a wonderful day!