Maid of Astolat

Today, one blog that I miss the most is http://maidofastolate.blogspot.com/. An undergraduate girl, this anonymous blogger used to write extensively on teenage life, unlikely romance and her untreated crush on classics literature. Like her, many good Bhutanese bloggers have stopped blogging (for better or worst - I hope for the better). And here, I share one of her stories that I loved so very much. Read it below:

Five-minute taxi ride

“Hey stop!!!' I screamed as usual hurrying past the gate of my house. Oh, it’s 8 am and the school assembly starts at 8.15. I was getting late. Darn!

My tego was still half-worn, my hair uncombed - half flying, half tied. I’ve my packed lunch bag in one hand and water bottle in other. And the bag on my back. It’s my usual routine though. I was a student of Yangchenphug HSS and always I would run to my school late. Everyday, I would wake up at around 7.30. And it would be 8 for me to wash up and get half-dressed for school.

Every morning, at 8, I’ve to run frantically and it’s not at all easy to find a taxi here. I lived in Jungshina, about 7 km north from Thimphu City. Sometimes, luck would fetch a cab for me right away. But every day was not Sunday, and my name would be already called out by my captain in the school and be marked absent.

However, today was another lucky day for me, for the car that I shouted at had stopped for me. “Thank god, at least…I won't be late today,” I sighed in a sheer relief.

I dashed into the backseat of the car and without looking at the driver, I shouted, “Auu, please reach me at YHS.” Meanwhile, I started shoving my hands through my tego’s sleeves and doing my hair - hoping that the car would zoom off immediately.

But the driver even didn’t start the car’s engine. I looked up at him, angrily. And I saw the driver turning back, looking straight at me, as if I had horns sprouting out of my head.

'Auu, be fast la. Please, I’m already late for school,' I pleaded, still trying on to get my tego on.

He showed me his regal face, and I wondered that how come a cabbie being so rude to his passenger. I just stopped for a moment and looked at him again – he is a good looking young man, well dressed - presumably, in his 20s. How come a taxi driver so good looking? I wondered again. But since I was in a rush, I didn’t dwell on it for long.

“Yes madam!” he obeyed my instruction, uttering it all in a mocking tone. He started driving. But a sort of an amusement flashed on his face before he said that.

I felt angry and disgusted at the driver as when I treated him well he acted sarcastic at me. Since I was getting late, I concentrated back on my tego, pulling it on properly and start folding its sleeves and wonju. Then, I started doing my hair. I pulled out the comb from my pencil bag and combed back my hair looking on the mirror to make sure it was being tied properly. I saw the driver's eyes on me, his expression amused. I ignored him, murmuring, “Irritating driver, huh.”

Then, I fetched out the lips gloss from my hand case and started pushing it against my lips. And I applied lotion on my hands and face. I could see the driver glaring at me in his rearview mirror. But, I purposely glared back at him, annoyed.

His face turned into a huge grin. Laughing, he asked me, in accented English, “Do you always get dressed in the cab?”

“I don't!” I replied him in a bitter tone. But I was still engrossed wearing myself.

“It looks like you are dressing up for me,” I remember him saying. I noticed his accented English and I must have wondered how a cabbie could speak English so well. But I ignored it as I was busy wearing my make-ups and only worrying about getting late. You would hardly meet a cabbie who speaks so good English in Thimphu, but jeez, this man had British accent. 

I replied him, “It’s just ah...small modifications”. Somehow that made him laugh loud, throwing his head back. I threw a dagger at him with my eyes.

“Alright, alright, I give up,” he said raising his hands as if in defeat though his smirk said otherwise. I arranged my books in my bag. He continued starting at me in the rearview mirror in a grin expression.

“Hey, do you mind driving faster, I am getting late,” I remember ordering him.

“Laso la madam!” he mocked at me, turning back and staring at me. I ignored him. 

I reached my school gate. All done by then- I put in my water bottle and arranged my bag and did little tidying up with my wonju and tego, still ignoring the driver. My hair perfectly tied. My tego neatly folded, wonju perfectly made. I looked like a typical good school girl. The driver looked at me and smiled broad, appreciatively though.

Annoyed, I hit at him, “What?”

He just laughed and said, “Nothing Madam.” I glared at him.

The school students were still walking towards school. And my friends were waiting for me on the footpath. Thank god, I was not late, I sighed. The anger left me, instantly. Though the driver has been intrusive and annoying, he reached me school safe and on time.

I asked him the fare, “How much?”

He stared at me, his eyeballs rolled for a while and replied me, “Tell you what, it is free, you don't have to pay.”

I didn’t expect that. Since I didn’t like him and I didn't want to remain in debt to this rude man, I shouted at him, “No, take this money.” I threw Nu 40 on his lap.

He simply smiled and said, “You’re one stubborn lady, aren't you?” And he continued, “I bet your teachers are having tough time keeping you under control.”

My anger resurfaced. “Mind your own business,” I said and came out, slamming his car door.

His only reaction was a loud laugh. 

As I walked towards my friends, how I wanted to tell them what a horrible driver I met that morning. But as I soon as I reached them, they waved and cried at me, “Who is that hot guy who just dropped you here?” 

Puzzled, I looked back and to my surprise, it’s not a taxi. Err…I had climbed into a private car. I had mistaken it for a taxi and took a ride and treated him very rude. I felt so embarrassed and to think, I paid him. As I looked back at him, realizing my mistake and blushing, he laughed glaring at me. The Nu 40 (that I threw on his lap) tugged in his fingers he saluted at me and drove past me back to the town.

Today I try remembering him, but I cannot. Even, I don’t remember his face. I’ve no idea of his working address, and his name. I don't think anyone be so kind to drop a crazy school girl at her school. I don’t think that anyone would tolerate my behavior and rude words like the way he did.  By the way, I tried looking for him, at least, to beg from him forgiveness and to thank him. And I looked at the drivers of all cars I came across, thinking he would be the one, but I never found him. But I know that I’ll always remember him – he stays deep in my heart. However, this writing article is one way to remember him, to thank him for his generosity. Since then, I’ve never mistaken a private car for taxi. But how I wish I’d mistake it again and again. Perhaps I would meet him.

Setting the right precedent?

The picture below I took during the DPT's first convention meeting at YDF, Thimphu on April 28, 2013. More than a hundred of cars (mostly the big ones) of DPT members and supporters were parked and lined up from the Swimming pool until Changangkha.

The other day, this man, Tshering Tobgay, the former Opposition Leader, handed over his official vehicle. He justified that the country’s economic was in a bad shape and buying a new set of cars for the next elected Prime Minister, Cabinet Ministers, the Speaker, the Chairman of the National Council, and the Opposition Leader would cost our government huge.  

And now, we see a huge outcry from the DPT supporters and the general public about it. Is it about setting the right precedent for our future policymakers? Does this mean “misuse of political authority” on DPT government’s part? Or is it a political game as our country nears the next elections?

Only time will tell.

Note: Second photo: BBS.

On walking

I’ve been waiting since a very long hour. Also, I was praying - earnestly though - this rain to stop. So that I’d take a walk in my neighborhood. It’s only in the early evening that the downpour was done. The grey clouds were pulled back on the mountaintops. And Thimphu valley appeared starkly beautiful, clear, fresh - after the rain.

I slipped on my fuzzy slippers, and instantaneously ventured out on a walk. As I walked, I was greeted by the brilliant green leaves of the trees, raindrops sprinkling on them. The flowers, on both sides of the footpath I walked, were blooming to their fullest. Summer was abundant, everywhere. Oh, how much I admired it! 

A little over a handful minutes of walking, I reached a tiny hamlet, perched on a gorgeous hill. A few huts, scattered over the hill, honorably owned the hill. Each hut was all surrounded by small gardens of potato and maize. It’s a peaceful place, even dogs here didn’t bark at you. The peasants were gracefully weeding and digging their gardens for the new cultivation.

I came across a middle-aged woman. Seated on a wooden tool, at her courtyard, she was reading a non-formal education textbook. I smiled at her. She looked me full in the face and smiled back, shy. And she continued reading, keenly. Deep inside her shy smile, I saw her insatiable determination to learn, read and write. Yes, even at this old age.    

I was genuinely humbled by this village, by its simplicity and beauty. Immediately, I removed my slippers. And I walked barefoot on the footpath, on soil that was slightly muddied by the rain. Ah, I loved this feeling of my feet on soil. It felt so good, so natural. It’s been so long that I didn’t walk barefoot. Like this.  

Continuing the walk, I came across a bunch of young nuns stuffing themselves on ice creams. As soon as they saw me, they hid their ice creams. “Taking ice creams la?” I asked them just out of courtesy. They giggled and gave out a small laugh, shy - their eyes all glittering. Then, I met a group of boys playing soccer on an open ground. I joined them and played this beautiful game - sweating, laughing. So much joy and fun.

I returned home, feeling elated and deep at peace. This simple solitude walk and noticing minute things taught me the power of opening my eyes and it fed my soul. Simple thing has the capacity to work magic. Only if you let it happen. 

Note: I took these pictures on my phone.

No women elected in the NC Elections 2013

                                          Pic: Two women contestants of Zhemgang lost to Pema Dakpa

It’s quite surprising. Not a single woman was elected on the National Council Election 2013 poll day yesterday. It means that the National Council Parliament will not have any elected women representatives.

It worries me, and I hope same to you. Will this undermine the voices of women? I feel that women’s representation in the parliamentary is utmost important because over 50 percent of the total population in Bhutan is women. Moreover, our women need many of their issues and expectations be addressed and met. Empowering them is another desired need.

Out of 67 Candidates who contested in the National Council Elections 2013, five were women. Now it calls for greater participation of women in the elections and policy making. Women need to come out of their “comfort zone”, be courageous, take risk and participate in the elections. Only through political participation,  you can achieve what you want to call “women empowerment” and “gender equality”.    

However, there’s one last hope for women - that our His Majesty the King has power to elect five more members of parliament in the NC. I hope HM’s decision would solve this problem. 

For the NC Elections result, link here: http://www.kuenselonline.com/ncresults/index.php

Casting vote based on my mother’s recommendation

This morning, I received a phone call from my mother. All my parents live in a beautiful village called Chuzargang in Sarpang. It’s two-hour walk from Gelephu town.

But this is quite unusual of my mother. She asked me which National Council candidate was on my mind to cast on my vote for. I replied her, reflecting hard, “I haven’t yet decided on it. I am still thinking over it.” Three days to the 2013 NC Election, and here I couldn’t decide my vote.

There are five aspiring NC candidates contesting from my dzongkhag. That’s all what I know. I had never expected that I would be so poor in making the choice of my NC candidate this year. I don’t know much about them - their aspirations and manifestoes. I haven’t met them in person, too.

I read about them on newspapers, about their CVs and manifestoes. But I can’t really make up my mind to vote based on these materials. The brutal truth is that I missed the debate of the NC candidates contesting from Sarpang dzongkhag.

I blame myself for this because I was in a meeting that evening. But I too blame the ECB and BBS TV for the poor show management. Due to lots of distractions in between the debates, the shows have become way longer and inconveniencing for viewers.

I know that to understand the strengths of each contesting candidate, to make informed decisions and vote for the right candidate is imperative. But it’s also the duty of the ECB and other relevant agencies to facilitate and advocate better participation of general public in the politics.

My mother continued, “Vote for…That person is really good.” So here, I’m casting my vote based on my mother’s recommendation.

Photo courtesy: BBS

Dear Seday

I’m covering a book here – a gorgeous book by dear Bhutanese friend, Ugyen Gyeltshen. Dear Seday. The title of this book says it all - it’s a novella written in the epistolary style. To my surprise, the entire book is one letter. This letter, yes, this book astoundingly chronicles the author’s remotest memoirs, his delicious childhood days.   

Should you wish to read this book, I drop a few more lines here. Its narration though. Nadola, 32, is the protagonist in the story. He works as a road supervisor at Thrumshingla Pass. It’s “pouring rain” one day and the road gets blocked.

On that day, at that moment, he sees Seday, his high school sweetheart, inside a car stranded on the roadblock. By the way, he hasn’t met her for the past 15 years. It makes him jump in the rain. And instantaneously, he starts writing a letter to her.

He tells his readers that this letter “should have been written fifteen years ago.” It hits you with a fresh curiosity. Why he didn’t write it before? What has happened in their love? How they separated? Does he still yearn for her love? Many questions roll on your head, and this would urge you to turn pages of this book one by one until you know what happens to the last word on the last page.   

And his letter to Seday is this gorgeous book, Dear Seday!

As Nadola writes the letter, the book moves slowly, sumptuously, across the terrain of different places and time – his life’s journey that he has travelled in the last 15 years. And everything in the past unfurls. It takes you back to 15 years of time in a lovely place of the Khaling countryside in eastern Bhutan where Nadola is born and raised. Through his story, the book depicts the typical Bhutanese life in the rural farms and the difficulties of rural parents to send their children to school.

You would be brilliantly amazed at the way Ugyen Gyeltshen could remember and write down all his childhood and school memories. This is, indeed, a strange talent. He brings flashbacking everything; moreover, he has woven all that together beautifully, humorously. His first encounter with television. Nicknaming teachers. Night hunting. Digging in girls’ garbage. Befriending school cook for foods. His crush on Seday.   

Let me tell you one more thing. His words are full of bluntness, straight and punctuated with honesty in this raw and beautiful book. You’d feel like you’re listening to one of your best buddies. So much of his book reminds me of what was my childhood. It seemed to me that I was reliving my childhood life once again. And the story he narrates becomes a part of mine too.

This book is more than a love letter to Seday. It’s also about the change of time - from adolescent to man, from remote to urban, from being naïve to facing the reality, from being young and shy to growing old and truth-telling.

Final words. I almost can’t tell you more about this book than ‘read it’. I will tell you why. Because Nadola, the main character of the book, is so humble and dear to us that you would simply accompany him to the end.

About author: Ugyen Gyeltshen is an engineer by profession. Today, he is happily married. His second book is almost complete, and will be launched very soon. He is on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Tukuli. Know more about Dear Seday: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Dear-Seday

Alcohol problem in Bhutan

Yesterday when I was going through my pictures that I took in the last one year I was quite surprised.  I have taken pictures of these people. All of them were drunk, lying in the Thimphu Street. And here Sonam Jatso has rightly pointed out:

"We need to deal with alcohol problem in our country soon. It is destroying our people—our families, our youth, our children, and our society. I hope and pray that the next government—elected leaders and parliamentarians—takes this up on a top priority."  

 

Note: The last two pictures were taken by Sonam Jatso and Tashi Namgay respectively.                                                                                                                 

On Liebster Award

I say a very deep and heartfelt thank you to Kathleen Kenna for recognizing and nominating my blog on the Liebster Award (http://stateofgrateful.wordpress.com/category/liebster-award/). And here, I’m overwhelmingly excited to answer thoughtful 11 questions that you posed for me. However, today, I’m going to answer only one of them. My answer is:

1. Why were you inspired to begin blogging?

My parents were illiterate. So to speak. My siblings were not widely read, not book smart. In short, I was brought up in a family (locality too) where the importance of literature was not known. It’s never encouraged though. But this passion of writing has been there in me, from then, since very young.

Who or what inspired me writing? How? I don’t know. More aptly, I don’t remember. Perhaps - my friends or my teachers or those books I read, or my resilient imagination. Maybe the locality – its simplicity, beauty and vigour - where I grew up. Or, it could be all.

To add one more thing - I’d scribble on everything. Always. Either on a piece of torn paper. On tree leaves. On walls. On floors. On tables. In my note books. Everything. Everywhere. I’d write down anything that comes out of my mind. The truth is that I was a shy young boy, an introvert. And this is how I talked, expressed myself and interacted with the world around me. Scribbling. Writing down.

Unlike other kids, I always used to pay a huge respect to all kinds of literary materials. I kept letters, school magazines, newspapers, books, autograph books, cards, diaries – all in my tiny wooden box. And I could do anything to protect them. I had never let them be used for wrapping doma. Even not let them plastered on the walls. It’s quite strange for my parents and siblings.

In school days, besides writing love letters for my friends, I’d contribute articles for the school magazines. And how thrilled was I to see my own articles published there. My parents couldn’t read, yet I’d run with the magazine to them, all happy, and unfold it to show my articles.

My mother would give a glance at it and smile back at me, proud. But my father would take the magazine from me and try reading it. Curious. He’d mumble a few first sentences, give up reading it and return the magazine to me. One day, he told me (I still remember his words), “Congratulations son! Keep writing…you can become lyonpo in future.” 

Back in my village, those days, our parents couldn’t wish more than their children becoming a civil servant, a minister too. Typical of my village though. My father’s wish was no exception. But deep inside me, I wanted to become a different person in life. I always wanted to live a humble life - reading lots of books and honing the skills of writing. Nothing more.

However, the year 2008 was the biggest crossroad of my life. My passion for writing even impeded in the job that I wanted to take up. In one hand, I wanted to join a good and secure job (civil service). On the other hand, I’ve this passion to protect and hone. I was – in a word – confused.

It’s absolutely for this passion that I joined a newspaper as a journalist. It did serve my passion, I was happy. Coz I was writing. And more importantly, writing for my living. But after a little over a year later, I quit the newspaper and decided to join the civil service. I don’t know why I did that. Sometimes, everything is just not fair. Isn’t it?

I regretted and grieved a lot over this decision. At that moment, at least. Because I thought it’d be the end of the thing I loved most – my passion for writing. And then, for better or worse (of course, it is for the better) I joined the civil service. This new job only asked me to do official write-ups, correspondence and implementing programs and projects. No creative writing. I was sad.

Two months into the civil service, July 2010, this blog was born. There are scores of people to thank for this. My friends. My colleagues. And a handful of Bhutanese bloggers. For their support, inspiration. Of course this blog lifted back my spirits immensely.

It’s been almost three years that I’ve been blogging; also working as a civil servant. Now I learned that anywhere I can practise this healthy act of writing – be it in the journalism, civil service, my village, school, college. Even as a kid, as a lover, as an adult, as a loner, as a humble person, as a novice thinker.

Today, at 29, I’m just a naïve writer still learning how to write. I’m still learning how to put everything into words. And I take out my camera out there, anywhere, and take pictures. Because at times my digital lens tell the stories better than my words. I feel what I’m doing is right for me. This is what I wanted in my life – a humble life and pursuing my passion of writing.  

Tulip in Bhutan

It’s a beautiful day, today, in Thimphu. A bright day. A few patches of clouds that scatter above the valley hide the sun. I ran towards my office, this morning, like always. But oh, I spotted tulips blooming in a garden above the road at Changangkha that I walk on.

You can never guess how much I love this flower. They are open, striking red, and have delighted me with its exotic colours of glory. They really are the flowers of spring. The truth is that I didn’t expect Bhutanese people grow tulips here. Also, I didn’t know tulips would grow in Bhutan, that’s also in a garden, out in the open. I only heard about the tulip known as ‘Queen of Bhutan’ which was a gift by the Bhutan+partners to Her Majesty the Queen of Bhutan on the occasion of the Royal wedding in October 2011.

I took out my camera, marched above the road, and try taking its pictures. The garden is well fenced. I tried jumping over the fence, but a dog barked at me. I was scared. After hearing the dog’s bark, a beautiful woman sprinted out of the house. I looked back at her, gesturing that I loved her flowers and taking the pictures. She smiled back at me. Leaning over the fence, I took a few shots of the tulips.  

Phurba Thrinlay

He, indeed, needs no introduction. I’m talking about Phurba Thrinlay. Yes, the comedian king who is so hugely popular in Bhutan. Almost all of us know and love him, don’t we? He is, unanimously, known for his hilarious jokes and sidesplitting dialogues. You can instantly recognize him wherever he’d be – street, restaurant, stage, TV, radio. And at the mere sight of him, you would laugh hysterically.

Quite strangely, he is paid exceedingly higher and respected than any lead actors of the Bhutanese film industry. The truth is that most people go to watch movies only because he is in - to laugh non-stop at his jokes, to get amused with his facial expressions.

And here, I’ve a delicious news to all those Bhutanese cinema-goers and fans of Phurba Thrinlay! Wangchuk Talop, a prominent Bhutanese filmmaker is brining to you a feature film titled “Phurba Thrinlay’. Presented by Yangchen Pictures and camera by Chencho Dorji, it will be released soon at City Cinema in Thimphu. Intended to be comical and humorous, this film is an attempt to give Bhutanese people an ideal ironic and circumstantial comic sense. The film is titled “Phurba Thrinlay’ given the present status of Phurba Thrinlay as the living comic icon of the Bhutanese society. Given its name, Phurba Thrinlay himself is to be engaged in the role.

Let me narrate the storyline of this exciting film, shortly though. Phurba Thrinlay and Tandin (Tandin Wangchuk) are good friends. As artists, they are working together on a film project under a producer named Kado. Glamorous Yangdon (Tshering Zam) who has recently been crowned Miss Bhutan, 2012 joins the project as the female actor. Phurba Thrinlay falls in love with Yangdon. However, Tandin manages to win over Yangdon’s love despite Phurba Thrinlay earnestly pleading him to spare her for him.  Driven by pride and jealousy, Phurba Thrinlay resorts to mastering “Ga-nga” (a mantra cast on someone to lure his/her feelings and attraction) and successfully wins over Yangdon’s love by feeding her ga-tse.

It is known that when the spell is cast on a foodstuff, it becomes “ga-tse”, the food of attraction. And when the ‘ga-tse’ is given to and eaten by someone, one can lure his or her love and feelings.

The film gets into an unexpected climax. Now Yangdon is obsessed by the spell and gets sensationally attracted to Phurba Thrinlay.

And we worry…does Yangdon leave Tandin for Phurba Thrinlay? Will Tandin learn to dispel the hypnotic ga-nga over Yangdon? Will he win her love back? What will happen after that? Questions in your head go on and on. Now, there are so many things you would like to ask and curious about to know in this film.

However, this film has another striking twist. Should I talk about it here? No no. If I narrate the entire storyline of the film here, it’d bore when you to go to watch the film.

I don’t hesitate to say that this film can be the real cinematic treat for you this beautiful spring. It has all the technical elements to become one of the biggest blockbusters of the year. For surety, the comedian king, Phurba Thrinlay will keep you amused, gasped and entertained throughout the film never like before.          

In the stillness and silence

I spend much of my week muddling through endless tasks. You say it and the list goes on: office works, attending meetings, incessant phone calls, doing household chores and clearing bills. I just wonder (at times) that I was set on for a rollercoaster ride - that simply goes on and on. Filled with constant ups and downs, tears and laughter, joy and sadness.

And you just can’t imagine how much I love weekends. Weekends, for me, are the perfect time to set myself on a predetermined task, un-dictated by time and circumstances around me. I’m much luckier, too, that I live here in Motithang. Because just a few minutes walk uphill I can step into the most serene and beautiful hill of Thimphu.

This is the place where every weekend I march into for a quick stroll. The hill overlooks the entire Thimphu City. It is, undeniably, an ideal escapism from the stresses of modern city life; yes, from the rollercoaster ride of life.

Like on all other weekends, last Saturday, I walked on a meandering footpath here breathing in the spring’s fresh fragrance. This footpath leads to somewhere faraway. I don’t know precisely where. And I’ve my hands shoved into my jacket’s pockets – whistling a song that I really don’t know.

I kept walking and walking with no precise destination in my mind. By the way, I was just enjoying the walk as much as those birds wheeling around the spring’s blossoms. I tell you that walking here is healing and all that, my mind at peace. I can’t explain you how, for it’s something I cannot put into words.

Should you aspire for a meditative mind or a peaceful moment after your stressful week, perhaps a walk here be proposed.

Remembering the first Happiness Day

I’m writing down this post to remember the first International Day of Happiness. And the way I celebrated it here in Thimphu. The day shone with a bright sunshine, only a few patches of clouds spread over the valley. It’s a beautiful day though.

I was undoubtedly happy - for one good reason – the government declared the day holiday, a national event to observe the day and to contemplate the importance of life. I didn’t plan anything for the day. Perhaps I was not sure what to do, how to celebrate the day. One of my colleagues remarked, “Happiness is very subjective. It shouldn’t be the national event.”

I too had mixed feelings about the day. The truth is that I was not a big fan of GNH. However, I was thinking to be home all day, reading book and going out for a stroll in the evening.

But later, at noon, I marched down towards the town. I was very surprised to see the street unusually spilled over with hundreds of people. There was not a single vehicle in the street. People of all walks of life were sumptuously walking by - all smiles on their faces and sharing laughter with their family members and friends.

A loud noise of songs and dances was blaring out from an entertainment centre, the Clock Tower. The place was overtly crowded. A row of food stalls around it served people with foods. And how sweet, scores of people were sitting around, so relaxed. And they were graciously having foods with their beloved ones. It gave me a cheerful feeling and the tint of my mind was all happy. It’s a real happiness day. Believe me.

Then, I went to GNH Centre where I was invited to attend a meditation session. Through mediation, I learned to relax my mind. The mindfulness training helped me to understand my mind and emotions. After that we watched a wonderful movie, ‘Life of Pi’.     

It was late afternoon when I walked back home. On the way, looking at children playing and laughing made me all happy. The world burst into bloom, and I admired it on notice things walk.

Back at home, I read a few chapters from J.K. Rowling’s Casual Vacancy. And I contemplated on the day, the first happiness day. It’s uncomfortably joyful day, enriching and happy. And yes, eventually, I realized the significance of the day.

I realized that how we’re lulled into “busy” humdrum of our lives every day. Remember that we hurry every time. We run after time, after scholarships, after appointments and after money. We run after people, conflicts and controversies. And the sad thing was that we hardly spare our time to contemplate on the most important aspect of our life i.e. happiness.

The Happiness Day, however, provides this opportunity for all Bhutanese people take a break from our busy life and to reflect on the importance of life in order to understand our life better, love ourselves better, and become wiser person, happy.

Finding beauty in everyday life

The most beautiful word in the English language is “Beauty”. For me, at least. This earth as we walk on, the beauty manifests or unfurls in a thousand different ways every moment, every single day. And I’ve fairly believed that we, humans, deserve all good things life has to offer us. And in order to notice and honour beauty around me in my everyday life, I named my blog, Finding beauty in everyday life.

So, beauty is the heartbeat of my writing, running through every post of my blog. And more eloquently, it also runs through my own life. My blog, my words, talk deliberately about the beauty that spreads around us, about the good things, and about the magical joy. Also, the photographs of what appealed to me, what intrigued me.

Everyday – for everything - I walk around, seeking out for beauty. I spare a small wedge of my time from the busy schedule and watch the sunset. And I’m constantly overcome by wonder.  I love witnessing the snowflakes, feeling magical. I feel like a fairy amidst the spring flowers and trees. I even try finding grace and comfort in our monotonous and mundane activity.

I admit that I’ve to fight the temptation not to look out for or write about the things that stress or offend me. Like anyone of you, my life too has a plenty of tears, struggling, frustration, and weariness.  But I always try to find and see the beauty and grace mixed in all this.

It’s more than that, too. The practice of writing here, on my blog, finding beauty in everyday life, has deeply changed the way I relate to and engage with the world and people around me. It sumptuously healed my wounded spirits - my negativity disarmed, my aggression dissolved, and my hatred and confusion slowly disappearing. I feel that I’ve discovered a greater talent for joy, a larger embrace of life. Maybe I am wrong. But I’m doing what feels right for me. Finding beauty in everyday life. Both internal and outside.

Today, right now, right here, as I walk outside, the brilliant green leaves and blossoms of the peach trees stir in the air. I watch them. I’m dazzled. Lo and behold, there’s a thing of beauty!   

A new beginning

Once again, the world around me blooms in fresh vagaries, the sun bright and stronger, and the air so cool. I see Thimphu turning into spring, all beautiful. But this reminds me one thing, common though, a new beginning. Students start their new academic session. Rustic farmers ready for the year ahead. Bureaucrats kick-start their new fiscal year.  Everything looks livelier and lovely here. Some pictures that I took in my mobile phone: 

Taking one day, one moment, at a time

This is a beautiful quote, isn’t it? It is. Oh, you have to agree with me, at least for this. A dear friend of mine mailed it to me last week. And I’m writing this post to tell her what she had done, what this quote meant to me.

The quote - decorated with all gorgeous words - is direct and punctuated with a simple meaning and logical truth. I relate myself to its each word. I read it, feeling elated and deeply at peace. I read it again. This time, nodding my head yes, yes, yes. For it stirred up my own thoughts. This is something that I’ve long felt and held dear, but I couldn’t grasp within myself and put into words.  

In actuality, it enriched me in my life’s walk. And we all know what life is. At least, we understand that life is a journey. A difficult long journey with its alternating ups and downs, and uneventful passing moments of joys and sorrows, challenges and successes, tears and laughter, ignorance and blessings.

But how everyday I was immersed in a series of life’s cycle. That my life became like a pendulum, swinging between two extremes – the past and the future.

I tend to cling to my past. Even worse…I tend to think that it was offering me comfort, feeding a balm to my loneliness. Sometimes the tint of my memory is happy, other times angry; but mostly, all of these recollections spread sadness, irretrievable loss, and grief.

Again, I’d be constantly looking for the details of a life that I wanted to live. Studying abroad, earning more money, buying classy cars, and owning tall buildings. And I’d live in fear – fear of failures, fear of truth and embarrassment, fear of being deceived and rejected, and fear of death.   

Today, I’m already 29. I’ve completed my university degree from a renowned college five years ago. And here, I work as a civil servant (the most sought-after job in Bhutan). I’ve wonderful and very supportive parents and siblings, and a bunch of lovely friends.

However, it seemed to me that my real life hasn’t yet begun. I felt that that it was about to begin. But all times, some difficulties appear: something to be achieved or do first, a problem to be solved, a credit to be cleared. And I was always striving to become better in life.

In fact, I was lost in between these two - past and future. And I was disengaged from the sight of the present moment. I disliked “present me”, “my present obstacles”, and “my present status”. This is the reason why I was preoccupied with my past and future.

But this beautiful quote alone gave me a pause for thought and helped me understand that these “obstacles”, “status” and “present me” were my life. It taught me to treasure every moment I’ve by taking one day, one moment, at a time.

Now I’m taking on my life in a different way. Working in my office. Visiting my friends. Admiring the aura of spring. Reading books. Writing stories for my blog. Being a bachelor, a man. This daily life of mine simply goes on and on like the present participle.

Similarly, I’ve realized that my life is not so much about my past or future, beginnings or endings, or about reaching my goals and destinations. It’s all about going on and on, and how to be sad or amazed by life, or maybe a little bit lost and stumble a few times.

Spring unfolds in Thimphu

“I glanced out the window at the signs of spring. The sky was almost blue, the trees were almost budding, the sun was almost bright.”

                                                                      ― Millard Kaufman, Bowl of Cherries

Photographs that I took around my office this afternoon. Dear readers, have a wonderful springtime!