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Thursday, March 28, 2013

If only………..


Courtesy: hdwallpapers.in

From every slit of a small angle 
I watch you, with others mingle
Only to find you like a cute little girl
Stunning, striking and lovable
If only, you know this fable 
My life would be blessed and more stable 

When I could not see your face
I feel like going mad for days 
And when you ignore at your pace
I hate my life in many ways
If only you remain near and pays 
For what I missed, I would be happy for always 

When I come close and near
In your eyes, I find fright and fire of fear
Not because you are with me dear
Because of the room that is so clear
If only others pretend not to dare
Our presence can be something we can bear

Romance is what they are
The age always has no bar
Race and region’s effect is also very far
Nothing strong possess the courage to mar
If only things happened before at par
We wouldn’t face any kind of this war

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

The Fortune of the Misfortune


If the grain of the misfortune is already sown in the field of our name, it is destined to grow one day with the click of the clock. Escapism is the rarest breed that one can afford to buy with the currency of our luck.

It was Sunday, the seventh of October, twenty-twelve. A piece of day in the calendar of my stay here that printed a seal of misfortune in the pages of my life, lived and to be lived.

The short-circuiting melted my one-year-old LCD which to date fed me with the songs of the current global affairs. To my utter despair, half of the used-to-be magnificent screen mirrored to be the best worst electronics I have ever seen.

The cruel hands of the inferno had an extraordinary length of courage that it grabbed one of my friends scanning machines into a roasted ball of carbon. The flame had danced with the contemporary steps over the carpeted floor of my room, thereby ignoring the presence of few minute electronics. Their fate was ruined with the wind of its strength that it completely lost its genetic shape and size.

And fortunately, as its song of the smoke danced out of the door of my curtained window, it accidentally pulled the trigger of hairs inside the nasal chambers of the people around.

These pollens of smell ought to be the synonymy of pheromone that pushed the neighbours into a single file to the direction of my house like a congress of ants. At that moment, the closeness of a bunch of ladies became the furthest strength to strangulate the fuming flame inside my room, since their timid hearts were engulfed by the tentacles of fear and panic.

But with the life of their cry, it towed the crowd of archers who became the heroes in the fire battlefield. The fibre of their muscles was put into an acid test that they assassinated the flames like an infuriated Brutus killing Julie Caesar. Their might echoed the famous Marcus Brutus’s line: It is not that I “loved Caesar less,” but that I “loved Rome more” as in the process of putting the fire off, it involved making my windows nude, breaking the door and soaking my entire bedroom. 

After I reached the scene, I lost some hours to knit the wool of my courage to believe what has really happened. Thank God, I gave a huge sigh of cry that it only injured me and saved the life and hard-earned property of fellow mates. Keep aside casting the casualties, the fire ignored to impair the rest of anything other than mine. It sent me a thrill of message that fortune comes at the cost of misfortunes as well.

[Actually, the article was supposed to be posted on 7th October 2012 but failed. I was not able to log into my blog]

The Census RIMPOCHHE

In Buddhism, Rimpoche literally means 'the precious one' and by and large, stands for a highly learned spiritual leader. 
Being Bhutanese, we have a system that we queue to get a name for our newborn child from any rimpochhes.  

Nothing was much different for me too. My parents have exposed me to numerous rimpochhes for the same. I was blessed with Damchu Wangchuk as my name. 

This name has taken its way from the census to school admission cards and from school identity to recognition trademark in the village.

In 1997, I appeared for my Primary School Certificate  Examination (PSCE). I graduated with the same name and joined Nangkor Junior High School in the Pema Gatshel district.

2 years later, I sat for Lower Secondary School Certificate Examination (LSSCE). My name had by that time transformed to Damchoe Wangdue

Yet in the school, in almost all the school documents and other records, my name was reflected as Damcho Wangdi. Even I have rented that new name.  

In 2001, I was getting prepared to attend the Bhutan Certificate of Secondary Education (BCSE). As the first batch to sit for this high-stake examination after the Bhutan Council for School Examinations and Assessment (BCSEA) took over the Indian School Certificate Examination (ICSE),  I was already thrilled to attend it. 
But before I appeared for the BCSE, I was asked to produce the original name as evidenced in the national census record and submit a copy of the Citizenship Identity Card (CID).

I took leave from school to collect the CID duplicate from my home. Reaching home, I was engulfed by surprise because the transformation cycle of my name has not stopped yet. To my utter disbelief, I saw my name change in its structure and sound. It gave a plain and uncomfortable pronunciation. This time it was Dumcho Wangdi.

Burnt with flames of anger and discontentment, I yelled at my poor parents for being irresponsible and careless in letting some people assume the role of a carpenter for my name. Sadly, my parents knew nothing of it as I interrogated them. For as much as I disliked it, they found it tasteless to hear that name.

I was told about the recent census being carried out in our village. A gentleman with an assistant visited my village. They have taken nearly 2 days to collect census information on nearly 70 houses in my village. It was thanks to this gentleman from the census office who changed my name. 

I returned to the school and submitted the CID copy. The next day, my class teacher entered the class with our final and original names printed. We were asked to confirm it as he read it loudly. 

I was already nervous about having to face my classmates who would jeer and mock me at the mere mention of my name. I saw that dream before I slept. I was right. 
My name was hilarious to my teacher as well, who uncontrollably roared into laughter with my friends. 
 
Someone from the backbench screamed, "it's the name of a dog".

I have detested using my own name since that day. I withstood the fatigue of furnishing my name whenever it was required. Inside the class, several of my friends ridiculed me, and a couple of them echoed the mockery for some weeks.

Thanks to that Census Rimpoche, who coined me a new name. A name that was almost equivalent to a dog's name 😡. 

The evolutionary board of my Name

Decades later, I realised that I have already acclimatised to my name. 
remember Romeo in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet: What's in a name? That which we call a rose; By any other name would smell as sweet.  

Names do not have life and breath. It is colourless and odourless. There is neither strength nor weakness in it. It does not differentiate the rich from the poor, the best from the worst, big from the small. 

But, as our ears have been accustomed to hearing the same tone of name for years, a sudden twist gives an off-the-scale rhythm that makes it appear clumsily funny. I had an impression that the dye of my name faded casually to be a material of joke.

Still at this time what I do not like about my name is that I have to stand next to somebody and spell it to them. Otherwise, I have to pay the price for their negligence because unless it is ours, we take others always for granted

What is THIS?


I feel like I am lying on a carpet of a dream,
But, it isn’t a dream, I hear others talk and scream
To say I am induced with a drug to be crazy
I find myself stable, not so lazy
Then, what is this? 

Your absence from my sight is an injurious pain 
That numbs the usual tune of my brain 
When you are next to me my dear,
I find meaning in being so close and near
So, what is this?

I envy you for being with others
The eyes of my heart get clouded and it bothers
Although our line of living is separate and clear
Yet my heart beats with pain without any fear
And I wonder, what is this? 

Sometimes, I don’t want you with me here 
As I fear you would say you don’t want to hear 
I know the path of our closeness is so rough 
Yet I want to tread on without fear, as it is not enough 
That makes me think, what is this?

When you are just out of the house
Wearing that elegant blue blouse
Over the slim body and take a walk
I want to join your cold hand openly and talk
And let people watch, what is this? 

Every single bead of our moment 
Is archived in my heart that I really can’t 
Erase to start something new and make ours lost 
For such kind will never happen at any cost 
It’s special for me to reflect what is this?

To describe you, the words don’t have the capacity
The lyricist would fail to compose on their own ability
As charming as you are, so is your closeness  
Which I miss and enjoy, so shall I confess
But I know you may think, what is this? 

People may make fun and as abnormal, you may find 
Because it might or not have occurred to you of such kind
To me, it doesn’t make me surprised and wonder
As your absence rather makes my heart grow fonder 
Please don’t say “Are u crazy”, and shout what is this?

Although destiny has pushed us to a separate room
When met before, our relations have failed to bloom
Yet with the destiny’s pity hand and heart
We will craft our relation into one best form of an art
And let destiny itself wonder, WHAT IS THIS?

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