This year's December has been the busiest month. You know it well how we Bhutanese are. We drag everything towards the end and here I am struggling to complete works before the year's end. However, last weekend, I spared a handful of minutes and walked around my office and was awe-inspired by hydrangeas growing so beautifully for us. So pictures here.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Photographs
You know it well that the autumn has just gave its way into winter and it's unassumingly cold here in Thimphu. Hope all of you are keeping yourself warm and happy. However, I bring to you here some pictures of my village Chuzargang that I took during my last visit. Hope you enjoy going through all. Have a lovely weekend!
Saturday, November 22, 2014
The place least explored
So we set on our journey.
We called it road trip; and by then, it was already noon. Our destination was
Haa, and then Chelala.
“We have to drive fast;
else it will get dark,” my friend Pema who was driving the car told me. Then,
he upped the speed.
Quite frequently, we do
this, travel outside Thimphu on weekends and holidays; for no better reason
than to rejoice our time together and meet other friends. So this particular
trip was our fourth time together to Haa only.
A day before, then, a
colleague of mine wondered at me, “Of all place, why Haa again? You crazy? I
think you have girlfriends there.”
And my colleague spoke it
all. Haa, also know as “Hidden-Land Rice Valley”, is still one of the most isolated
and least visited dzongkhags. The description list of the place goes on: “tough
people”, “dry town”, “cold place”, and “tiny”.
However, Haa is a different
and wonderful place; at least for me. My favour for this place comes not
misplaced; for I didn’t have any girlfriends there.
There again, Pema and I were
travelling. This time was autumn; now we’ve travelled the place in all four
different seasons. Once we hit the Haa road from Chuzom confluence, the road
became extremely narrow, thin.
The frequency of vehicles greatly reduced; we
came across hardly any. We raced on and on and all anxious to reach our
destination.
But quite surprisingly, the
beauty of autumn and its allure grabbed two of us. Several times, we stopped
the car and marveled at the colourful and infinite variety of fields and houses
that consumed the landscape. It was overwhelming beautiful. We grabbed our cameras
and snapped shots.
All along, the road has
amazing views of more spectacular villages and valleys adorned with prayer
flags and pristine alpine forests. We simply enjoyed driving, never like
before, and all the more fascinated by the innocence and smiles on people’s
face and rural peasants toiling humbly. We joined them.
As we neared Haa, the cold
air started blowing and the alpine trees appeared richer and dense. Well, the proper
Haa is a steep valley with a narrow floor and the entire valley has been so
preciously guarded by the venerated three brotherly mountains known as Meri
Puensum. The serene Haa River runs right in the middle of valley, feeding the
valley and human settlements for ages. Such is Haa. Such is beauty.
After meeting our friend in
the town, we set on to our next destination, Chelela. This route has got a
gorgeous road and it has amazing views looking down at Haa valley. Oh, I wished
that I could fly across the mountaintops for an aerial view of it all.
We were only halfway to our
next destination when the sun already started to set; we were worried that we
cannot see Chelela. However, we stopped the car again, came out on the road and
shared a small talk. The dazzling grass stirred in the air against the yellow,
pink and blue hues of the sunset as if enjoying our company.
At that moment a thought
crossed my mind, the joy is found not in
reaching the destination, but focusing on journey. When we constantly anticipate
for the destination we lose sight of all the present moments, isn’t it?
Similarly, our life is not
so much about beginnings and endings, and starting and destination. It’s about
going on and on and on, and treating the present moments and time as the
essence, life.
So we charged forward. So
we took our time to appreciate the journey.
Note: Few pictures by Rima
Sunday, November 16, 2014
You’re still beautiful to me
My unfocussed eyes wandered
around the room. It was sparely lit; only a few dim lights illuminated the
entire room. Several sets of couches spread over, and then my eyes’ focus ran
over the people huddled together face-to-face and drinking beers.
A little farther, one dark
corner, I spotted a handful of neatly dressed young men. They were holding
microphone each and singing to rigsar
song that appeared on the screen mounted on the wall. This is one fine karaoke
in Thimphu, I thought.
Then a little right, at the
counter, my focus stopped abruptly. A strikingly attractive bartender kept
mixing and serving alcoholic drinks. Oh my god, her arms, so slim and graceful;
her eyes, so bright and flirtatious! She was at the peak of her beauty.
Each time she passed the
drinks to her customers and received money, her face glowed in an expansive
smile, all the more prettier. She was a joy to watch, honestly.
Oh, I forgot to talk to you
about my friends; I put blame on that bartender. By the way it’s a catch up party,
after long time, with my old college friends. After we started working and have
our own family, it’s quite difficult to meet often.
So five of us lounged on a
couch in the karaoke and we sipped our whiskey. Meanwhile, we passed on
microphones and sang to a song of our choice. It’s the Bryan Adam’s “You’re
still beautiful to me”:
Turn out the lights and close the door
Put your head on the pillow and let me
keep ya warm
I wanna run my hands across your face
Ya lyin’ beside ya still the perfect
place
This song – every word,
every line, and every stanza – evoked ripe memories of our college time. The
time when we were so young, so naïve, so passionate. We remembered those nights
when we used to stay late and sing to this particular song.
So once again, we said cheers
to our whiskey, this time for our friendship. And we burst into the song,
louder, reliving all those reverberating memories:
We’re still goin’ strong
So glad that you came along
Ya babe in every way
You’re still beautiful to me
I just - have to say – you’re still
beautiful to me
So beautiful babe
Time and again, the jarim bartender would visit our couch
and refill our whiskey glass. And always she smiled in that way, mesmerizingly;
how my heart went just zinging and zapping.
I’ve no idea how it came to
be, but my eyes following her so much of the time. Furthermore, I was
fascinated by her long hair worn straight and swaying right and left where it
met her shoulder. Sometimes, it spread wide and ran over her fair arms. Oh, she
looked the classiest and the sweetest. Because I had this mysterious attraction
for this girl, I don’t know why.
We selected another song,
The Calling’s “Wherever you will go”. As my friends burst into the song, I
turned my gaze to the bartender again. This time she glanced back at me and
smiled when our eyes met. Finally, I made up my mind and walked to the counter.
I ordered one more peg of whiskey and sat on bar stool in front of the counter,
in front of her.
“I know you,” she told me.
My head swelled with
wilderness, and at a loss of words, I took another sip of whiskey.
“Well, you’re Riku Dhan
Subba, right?” she asked me with a gleeful smile.
As soon as I nodded my
head, she continued, “I follow your blog. You write very well. But I love your pictures
the most.”
I thanked her genuinely
impressed, but at the same time felt deeply saddened. Firstly, writing is my
first love, not photography. Secondly, I asked myself, can I court my follower?
Instantaneously, I ran back
to my friends and joined them singing,
If I could, then I would
I’ll go wherever you will go
Way up high or down low
I’ll go wherever you will go
………
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Celebrating beauty, life
One morning, these days, I visited this giant river called Torsa in Phuentsholing. I’m not a morning-person though; I hardly rise before eight in the morning. However, just then, I realized what I’ve been missing in my life.
To
my amazement, I was stunned by the picture perfect beauty of the sunrise. The
way it shimmered over the river, over the Phuentsholing valley, absolutely
wowed me. Like a young lad, I ran-rounded the riverside, stumbling at times,
but still thirsting for more of the nature’s splendor.
Meanwhile,
I sat on the riverside and just enjoyed the water running down so effortlessly,
so incessantly like life in itself. The grass like needle that grows tall and
abundant around the river decorates it all the more beautiful. Only a few
humans were seen supposedly taking early morning leisure walk.
As I
sat, my eyes wandered far afar, the other side of the river and then stopped awhile
at a flock of birds catching and feeding on fish.
I
mused, the early bird catches worm, revisiting
the idiom that I learned long before in one of my school textbooks. That
moment, I nodded in agreement, exactly after two decades understanding its true
meaning. Had I not started my day early I would be missing all this beauty.
All
is not well, I thought, I should be living the moment not observing. So I
removed my clothes and jumped into the river; ah, it’s very cold and bone
chilling.
Soon
the sun accompanied me, winking its light on my face reflected from water and
fetching me fresh warmth all over my body. The birds swarmed over the river,
over us, making harmonious noise. The needle-like plants danced gently blown by
the morning breeze. As if all were celebrating beauty, life with me.
So
we swam, we danced, in all joy, as if for eternity!
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Friday, October 24, 2014
May I trust fireflies
“This year too, son, I am
very happy. You have come to meet us,” my father told me as he pulled his chair
and sat next to me.
We were sitting in the porch
of our house in my village, Chuzagang, Gelephu. It is attached right in front
of the house and has been my favorite place to be especially in the evening
like this. But before, during my childhood, I used sit here with textbooks and
read; sometimes, do painting.
As my father and I talked,
the daylight gradually started to grow weaker and weaker. And as usual, the
most spectacular thing happened - the sun turned golden, so were the sky and
plain. This is the best thing that my village offers and as always, I watched
it, awestruck.
In a while, my mother came
with tea for us. As she placed the tea cups in our table, she too pulled a
chair and sat with us. So the evening breeze started blowing gently exuding the
fragrance of flowers that my mother planted around the porch, we continued talking
about farmland and rice cultivation.
My mother agreed with
father, “We are expecting better harvest this year. Despite untimely monsoon
rain, the paddy so far bearing grains well.”
Our conversation has been
momentarily distracted by my two nephews who ran in and around the porch
chasing fireflies following its trailing light. To tell you that so much of my
nephews reminds me of my childhood because this is exactly what I used to do when
young.
So to add more, the evening
came alive with so many activities; it is the most happening time of the day. The
farmers returning homes after work. Loud music blaring from radios. The
last meal of the day cooking. Cattle and chicken retreating to their
shelters.
Amidst all this, I was
simply enjoying this beautiful moment of sitting together and being part of my
parents’ life and talking long about their works and life. The more I listened
to them did I hear their aspirations, brave hearts and sacrifices. It brought
my parents so close to my heart, and the joy that I get from this particular
closeness is truly blessing.
However, deep inside me,
that moment, something very strange started to prick me hard and I nearly
cried. It’s guilt – the guilt that I didn’t put enough effort to visit my
parents in the past and spend time with them. My excuse was that I was busy with
my works in Thimphu; in fact, I was always charging forward and constantly
looking for a life that I wanted.
So fast, like in minutes, the
evening turned into complete darkness.
“Ah, the winter is finally
here. It’s getting dark very fast and the days becoming shorter, colder,” my
mother reckoned the season, holding her hands.
My father looked at her and
nodded. Then he turned his gaze at me. I smiled at him; then he smiled too. Instantly,
my mother’s face glowed in all smile in reassurance.
The darkness engulfed the
entire village, and the number of fireflies increased significantly. They streamed
around, their fire glowing mesmerizingly. My nephews were still chasing the fireflies and collecting in bottles.
I joined them, my heart glowing with sheer joy and contentment like the
fireflies after a long sleep.
I know, with utter
certainty, the fireflies will go back to sleep the next sunrise. Oh, may I
trust the fireflies? I mustn’t. This glow, this light and this warmth in my heart
will remain for my parents, for ever.
Dear readers, have a
wonderful diwali!
Courtesy: 2nd picture from google
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