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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 courage to mar
If only things, happened before at par
We wouldn’t face any kind of this war
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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, 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 live, lived and to be lived.
The short circuiting melted my one year old LCD which till 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 machine 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 neighours into a single file to the direction of my house like a congress of ants. At that moment, the closeness of 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 were 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 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 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

Rimpochhe literally means a 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 new born child from any rimpochhes.  
And nothing is much different for me too. My parents have exposed me to numerous rimpochhes for the same. Of many names from various divine crews, my parents opted for Damchoe Wangdue.
The name has taken its footstep right from census to school admission cards and from school identity to recognition trademark in the village.
In 1997, I did my Primary School Common Examination (PSCE). I graduated with the same name and joined Nangkor Higher Secondary School under Pema Gatshel district.
Four years later, before I appeared for Bhutan Certificate of Secondary Education (BCSE), we were asked to feed our teachers with correct census name and a Xerox copy of Citizenship Identity Card.
I went home on leave. And to my surprise, I saw my name change in structure and sound. It gave a plain and uncomfortable pronounce. From Damchoe Wangdue, it has taken a form to form Dumcho Wangdi.
Burnt with flames of anger and discontentment, I yelled to my poor and illiterate parents being responsible for the change. They knew nothing of it as I interrogated. For as much as I disliked, they found tasteless in hearing that name.
My parents told me about the recent census carried out in our village. A man, who was dressed with almost twenty centimetre lagay but with bare skills of writing human names has helped the Royal government reap the recent census status from our village.
My father, who can light up the page with plain dzongkha writings and scripts, shared me how that ‘census man’ wrote my name in dzongkha: from Damchoe Wangdue to Bumchung Wangdi.
As I returned to the school, I withstood the fatigue in furnishing the details of correct census name to my class teacher. Many friends of mine mocked and few echoed for a week. Thanks to that Census Rimpochhe, who coined a new name from the existing one.
The evolutionary steps for my Name
I remember the Romeo in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet say,
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
Names have no life and breathe. It is colourless and odourless. There is neither strength nor weaknesses in it. It doesn’t differentiate a rich from poor, the best from the worst and big from small.
BUT, as our ears are used to hearing one tone, sudden twist gives a totally alien note that makes us lose our interest in telling public. It makes us feel that the dye of our name is faded casually to make it an object of travesty.
Now, each time my name is called anywhere; I can feel the prick of those ridiculing eyes. Every paper when demands my name, I can imagine how ghostly painful it is to think of that Census Rimpochhe’s carelessness.
And the WORST of all, every time I fill up any official document from different agencies, I have to patiently wait, seek permission, and calmly spell my name as D….U…M..C…H…O. and not Damchoe, as many often takes for granted.  
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"Remember your name. Do not lose hope ---what you seek will be found"-Neil Gaiman
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What is THIS?


I feel like I am lying on a carpet of a dream,
But it isn’t as I could hear others talk and scream
I feel like I am induced with a drug to be crazy
Yet I find myself stable and not so lazy
Then, what is this?
The absence of you from me is a fatal pain
That defers the usual tune of my brain
And when you are next to me my dear,
I find a meaning of being so close and near
So, what is this?
I am jealous of you being with others
The eyes of my heart gets clouded, so to me it bothers
Although our line of living is separate and clear
Yet my heart bleats 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 footpath of our closeness is so rough
Still I want to tread on even with 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?
The 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 surprise and wonder
As your absence rather makes my heart grow fonder
Please don’t say “Are u crazy”, and shout what is this?
Although the destiny has pushed us to a separate room
When met before, our relations has 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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