Like a movie show

 
A little over a month ago, I headed for the Trowa Theatre, Changjiji, where “Sem Hingi Samtang”, a Bhutanese film I was eager to see was screening.

The movie is quirky, humorous, and very moving. As the film moved slowly, spectacularly, across the terrain of one beautiful scene to another, after sometime, I found myself so engrossed. I got so involved with the characters and with what’s happening on the screen. I became happy and sad with the hero. When the hero dances, I danced with him (with his angelic heroine). When he meets accident and hurts his limbs, I too felt his pain. When he’s heartbroken, I also underwent depression. My five senses were so attached to what’s happening on the screen. And I felt everything was real. I think this is true for all.

After the show, I broke singly from the crowd and marched towards home. And I followed a route, less noisy. As I walked, I apprehended that our life is like a movie show. This understanding overwhelmed me! Like watching a movie, we too think that the world around us is real. Actually, a world around us is created based on our interpretation of what we see, hear, and perceive through our five senses. Everything looks real though.

I agree with the eastern ideology-it’s our mind and thoughts that create the world. The world we experience and the life we live are the reflections of our thoughts. These thoughts make us expect, behave, talk and act in a certain personalized way. They shape our circumstances and relationships. But we can change our thoughts like we change the cassette to watch another movie. By changing our thoughts, we can change the illusion and experience a different reality.

At home-obviously a quieter, fewer distractions, stiller place-I could still my mind and the senses. It seemed that I could wake up completely, understood and became conscious of reality of world. There were no thoughts in my mind; my consciousness shifted into a new dimension. I became conscious of the world beyond the mind and illusions. And the world I knew and believed as real began to lose its reality.

It’s like when you’re watching a movie and suddenly you went out for the washroom. As you walk out, your attention will be withdrawn from the movie. And you get snapped out of the illusion the movie is creating and you are thrown into a different reality. However, the projecting machine keeps on projecting images on the screen. And you know that it’s the only light being projected through the film onto the screen. What is seen on the screen is not real, but yet it is there. It is same in our life, we call reality.

Even I could wake up from this illusion, it doesn’t mean I don’t see and experience the world around me. I live my life in the same manner as before, but fully awake. It’s like I’m watching the movie, but no longer interested in it. I dance no more with the hero; I cry no more with him. I’m fully disconnected, fully detached from the world around me. Rejection depresses me no more, failure hurts me no more or success delights me no more. I’m no more a slave to illusion. Now, every action in my daily life has been shaped in a better way (stronger, happier, practical and without worries).

Note: Thanks to Amrith for sharing this ideology to me; Remez.

The warmth of solstice

A handful of days ago, I set out for home early from office.  I walk office on foot, everyday. Honestly. I don’t own car, I don’t hire taxi. Winter is already here: the day turns into hateful cold, the wind adds frosty to it and the sun going down early. But I walk. And only a few Thimphuiets do walk on foot like me in this most barren time of the year.

Midway to home, my eyes feasted upon a tree, just a few yards down the road. The tree sat abandoned, eerily. I inched my way towards it. And I looked so uninterruptedly, so absorbedly. Only a flock of birds were wheeling around it. Once plentiful of leaves and colours, now it stood bare and dispirited. Its leaves and seeds have stripped down, decaying on the ground. Alas, this tree was exhausted by hardest of wintry weather.

I couldn’t help thinking about this metaphor in my life, too. I’ve loads of memories from when I was a high school boy. However, this past is mostly remorseful and something useless that only hampered me.  Like this tree shed its leaves, I also let go of my memories one by one.

But suddenly, I felt a great emptiness within me. A sense of nothingness seized me which turned out to be as scary as blackness. Worse, my mind filled with doubt and anxiety. I had trashed my past, but I didn’t know how to live without it. I didn’t know how to stand firm in my own emptiness. And I became as lonely as this tree.

Again I looked closer at this tree. Contemplated more seriously. An understanding dawned upon me, ah. Though the hardest of season had beaten it, the tree was stunningly alive and still fighting with unparalleled ferocity will to live. It let go off its leaves, yet it stood firm in its own cruel weather, emptiness. It best taught me: it shed all the leaves, standing bare all winter and it always trusts that spring will come.

This internal understanding filled me with a surprising sense of comfort. No matter how cold, how dark, how cruel, how empty it can get, winter always holds a promise-that spring is no far. It’s this hopeful light of my own belief that radiates these days in my desertedness. Here, now, I embrace the darkness, emptiness and earnestly waiting to be embraced again with comfort, warmth, laughter, love and fruition.

Devil will devour her anyway

Last Sunday evening I was at my sister’s place, Changbangdu for dinner.  Lisa, her 8-year old daughter was tellingly excited to have me visiting them. Each time I visit them, for, I always surprise her with sweets, cakes and gifts. She is alert and bright. And keenly observant.

My sister and her husband are not book smart. They are not widely read. So like any usual Bhutanese conversation, we set onto talking about our works and family.  

Dinner was over. My niece, Lisa started playing toys with her three friends from the neigbour houses in her room. Oh, her room is full of toys, fairytale books, paints, teddy bears. And the walls papered with fairytale characters, super heroes.

Light went off. Suddenly. The children shrieked in noisy jerks. And frenziedly, they busted in the living room where we were seated on the couch, still talking. Their panic was further appalled when one child yelled, “Bhoot! Bhoot!” as if she was calling out for ghost. All I could sense in their eyes was increasing fear.

But to my pleasant surprise, when her friends were trembling in horror, Lisa was standing at the door, just aloof and unafraid. Only her eyes containing curiosity. The curiosity, understandably, to know why her friends were screaming.

She marched briskly towards me. Crawled onto my lap, she whispered in my ear, “Uncle, what’s bhoot?” I watched her, strangely shocked. Well, I found that she was not remotely aware of ghost. And of course of fear, of horror. I had the answer, but I was perfectly aware that to let her know about ghost at her age may cause her damage. Scratching my head, I answered, “Umm…bhooth is something…not good.”

I quickly threw a warm hug, though. Ah, a smart way to bamboozle kids. And how sweet, she looked entirely assured, convinced. Light came. She marched back to her room and resumed playing toys. 

Lisa has been predominantly brought up in an environment where she was only taught to experience love, kindness, gratefulness, beauty, gentleness, happiness and discipline. Her parents have never taught her about ghost, fear, horror, anxiety and hatred. Creating a good environment, teaching them good manners and protecting them from the negative influences; however, we can shape our children’s life.

But as I returned home, I left worrying about with her inquiring mind, TV, friends and social media all around her how long can she be shut off from the reality. I left thinking about how she would react when she knows about ghost, fear and anxiety. I left imagining her as a beautiful fairytale princess sat sewing in her room and devil will devour her anyway.

Photo: Googlesearch

For the love of reading

“I got a book you surely love to read. Tell me when you want to read it,” a friend of mine text me recently. She is one of my book friends that I’ve found and kept. She being one, today we’ve formed a small community of book lovers and writers in Thimphu.

It’s one fascinating thing, as to have a bunch of friends who love books. We meet. Not so often, though. There, our conversations hardly derail from books. We enjoy talking books. And we cruise into recognizing the power of books and to value them and buying them. Reading and loving books and sharing them has brought us together. Undeniably.

We’ve another thing in common. Writing. We love to write, consistently. Share our stories to each other, encourage, inspire and throw constructive criticisms. This way we improve. This way we celebrate our writings.

Knowing Life

This Christmas was different to me. A special one, though. I’m not a Christian, but I always spend the Christmas with my Christian uncles, cousins and granny. I love it! And this Christmas I spent all day home, alone. After breakfasting late, I nestled in my bed and popped the TV shut. 

My eyes travelled wastefully over the ceiling for a half minute. It went so far as to the corner wall and stopped where a photo frame hung. I looked at the photo attentively. A mighty sea is sailing magnificently in a perfect rhythm and it resigns, ultimately, in triumph in the cosmic ocean. I went closer and contemplated on it. This photo which has been hanging on this wall for the last eight months surprisingly offered a completely different awakening to me this Christmas.  It reflects back my own true self. Like us, mortals, this sea too has life.

I comprehended that this sea is the perfect metaphor for our life. Life as this sea is ever moving, without a pause, unequally distributing joy and distress, seeking finally to merge into an ocean that was even greater and eternity. Like this sea, sometimes you see something on the banks you really want, you dash toward to grasp it and float back.

Like we prosper and rise in the ladder of success, this sea too rises so high as if to catch up with the sky. And at times, it drifts down so low and looks vulnerable, desolated. Like that of our life, the sea too meets with the hurricane of disastrous tsunamis and floods. It becomes unsettled and distracted. Yet it rises reassuringly and just resumes floating with the current, keeping its balance.Sometimes, it floats fast but mostly sails in tranquility.

And how sweet, it seems confident and optimistic in its journey. Its unshakable faith reflects in its industriousness and is still in hunt for further glory. Finally, this sea triumphantly retires from its life and joins the cosmic ocean which I believe is life-after-death, union with God and eternity.

Now, I have realized that there’s nothing about life that had to be examined, analyzed, questioned or understood. I feel that life is just process and cycle, just the doing. Like this sea, life goes on, unmindful of beginning, end, crisis or glory. Life is all about hard times and good times and just how in the end everything is perfect and union with eternity.

Youth in voluntary action

A group of 11 young volunteers of YDF cleaned the JDWNRH guests house, Thimphu last Sunday. Most of these young people are students on vacation. Refreshments and lunch were provided by the Jangsa, Animal Saving Trust. Pictures (by Tashi Namgay) below:

My friend, Jigme

An eerie, frightening howling of dog outside in the corridor woke me one Sunday morning. It’s 6 in the morning, last summer. The cry was very intense, painful and ominous. My friend who was putting up with me that day thought some misfortunes would fall upon the tenants of the building as was customary.

My mood was one of disgust, for this dog disturbed my restful Sunday sleep. I swiftly pushed aside blanket, rose from the bed. Sleep still looming heavy in my eyes, I ran toward the door, in no doubt, to kick out that annoying dog.

I strike open the door, marched out. A lean unkempt dog was seated over few yards down in the corridor. Previous night’s monsoon downpour soaked him. As soon as he saw me, he beamed in a gracious smile like that of a timid guest. His tail wagging non-stop and producing slow shrieks, he marched briskly towards me and nudged against my legs. His ribs hit against my legs. I sensed, instinctively that he hadn’t had foods for a week or two. Good heavens! He was in intense hunger.

The fleeting rush of anger in me was quickly gone. I darted inside my kitchen to look for rice for my early morning guest. Yes, there was leftover rice in my cooker. I mixed it with cheese and emadatshi in a plate. Then I placed it in front of him. He gobbled furiously.

I sat next to him, quiet, watching him stuffing. And at the same time, I wondered how long he had been run-rounding the town, abandoned, hungry, and crying for foods. Do humans understand his hunger and pains? I understood, then, that this dog was not calling for misfortunes, but he was in such a hunger that he couldn’t help so he had to vent the great noise for foods.

He wagged his tail again and gazed deeply into my eyes, his smile beautiful. I sensed he wanted more foods. I had bread and cookies. I added them in his plate. He emptied the plate, but this time he jumped at me, climbing up on my lap and nudging his head and tail over my neck. He then magnificently bounced back, whined and barked in a decorative joy. He was doing all this as if to express his gratitude to me.

He found his master and a place called home. At last! He has his bed of my old gho next to the entrance door. And guess what? He stopped making noise and commotion. Ah, now he has grown huge, docile, friendly, intelligent and admirably handsome. Also, he has become as homely as his master. When my 13-year old niece visited my place last month, she gave him a name, Jigme.

To tell you honestly, I was a loner and melancholic person. I used to spend most of my day home, alone. My daily activities included reading, writing and watching TV besides office works. But after Jigme’s arrival, my life’s changed completely. I’m no more lonely and sad. I am happy, always loved and cared for.

Every evening, we go out way above Motithang. Long walk. I still have moments of sadness but Jigme can sense them. He comes to me, curls up on my lap and puts his head on my shoulder as if he is giving a hug to cheer me up.

Other times, when we’re out in the parks and roads, we romp and play. He crawls when I crawl, he sleeps when I sleep. He gives a jolly jump and furious run his ears pricked up and I lie flat on the ground laughing my lungs out. He darts off to comply with my every single command. All this have irrevocably bound us and make me happy. 

Interesting thing is that Jigme even knows my office and most of my colleagues. At times, he gives me nasty shock. He shows up in front of my office door unannounced. Only after I buy him foods from the canteen, he returns home.

It’s been exactly four months since I met Jigme and now I’ve discovered that dogs are great consequence in a human’s life. They love you unconditionally, always seem to know when you need them most and protect you from harms. The power of a special bond, loyalty and everlasting love that my Jigme shared with me is way beyond any special person had brought in my life.

Youth vs Police

One day, police brutally thrash youth. Another day, a group of youth mob at policemen.

This picture below shows youth occupying the main traffic, Thimphu:

And policemen overtaking the space: