Clatter of thunder,
Incessant, unabated downpour,
In the dark I was
In partial stupor.
Vision obscure…
Smokes billowing in the graveyard
A wrinkled bloody hand
Crept up through the earth.
Cross rose high,
Tilted and fell apart,
Earth loosened and sank in
As the hand pushed up hard.
Squealing wind ferried
The dead souls’ pine
Throwing chills along
The spine of mine.
Dead rose from the coffin
With hollow chest or a shattered knee,
Lifeless warriors of war
Stampeded towards me.
Nauseating stench in the air,
Eerily silent it got,
Save for the frothy saliva
Gushing through my throat.
Body bathed in cold sweats,
Heart palpitated fast,
Few minutes more
And I won’t last!
Solitary and dead terrified,
I had every reason
To turn off, then,
The wretched television.
Karma Thukten
25th November, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
NEW HOSTEL, INDIRA GANDHI NATIONAL FOREST ACADEMY, DEHRADUN-MY ROOM # B-1
Towards the mess, take a slight left turn,
You will see a room, in the face of sun,
Precisely, you get this direction,
Then you stand at the door of room # B-1
Still, you got that confusion
To spot out my room # B-1,
Perhaps then, you may want a small hint,
Simple, ideally follow the course of wind.
GPS, maps and compass you need not
Or laud praises in the name of lord
To get to my room, no haste and don’t run
For the room is conspicuous, room # B-1.
Before the room stands Pterocarpus, a massive tree,
A small garden with flowers that sway free,
Dull looking door with none to adorn
Has the room # B-1.
And if, of your instincts, you’re sure
Give a knock or gentle tap on the door,
Smiling, busy, worn-out or with a yawn
But, you will be welcomed in room # B-1.
Through the window, drawn with brown curtain,
You have the panoramic view of distant mountain,
Birds, amazing creatures and of seasonal flowers you learn
in this room, room # B-1.
Have hot steaming tea, feel at home
For whoever has come,
Spent few minutes here and did return
Always covets to be back here, room # B-1.
I did enjoy and I had fun,
Reminiscences of works well done!
And of a thing I shall warn,
Once here, twice you’ll be, room # B-1
Karma Thukten
09th of November, 2010
You will see a room, in the face of sun,
Precisely, you get this direction,
Then you stand at the door of room # B-1
Still, you got that confusion
To spot out my room # B-1,
Perhaps then, you may want a small hint,
Simple, ideally follow the course of wind.
GPS, maps and compass you need not
Or laud praises in the name of lord
To get to my room, no haste and don’t run
For the room is conspicuous, room # B-1.
Before the room stands Pterocarpus, a massive tree,
A small garden with flowers that sway free,
Dull looking door with none to adorn
Has the room # B-1.
And if, of your instincts, you’re sure
Give a knock or gentle tap on the door,
Smiling, busy, worn-out or with a yawn
But, you will be welcomed in room # B-1.
Through the window, drawn with brown curtain,
You have the panoramic view of distant mountain,
Birds, amazing creatures and of seasonal flowers you learn
in this room, room # B-1.
Have hot steaming tea, feel at home
For whoever has come,
Spent few minutes here and did return
Always covets to be back here, room # B-1.
I did enjoy and I had fun,
Reminiscences of works well done!
And of a thing I shall warn,
Once here, twice you’ll be, room # B-1
Karma Thukten
09th of November, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
AN EPISTLE
A LETTER FROM MY YOUNGER SISTER
I
Was peeking through the window ajar, a tree squealing in the storm, its apex bent through considerable angle that I feared the tree would break, thick droplets of rain pattering over black pitched road and people pacing to and fro hastily not forgetting to exchange rapid greeting by way of reluctant nods, when I heard footsteps approaching the threshold of my door.
‘Tap…tap’, someone knocked, I shrugged woolen blanket from my warmly wrapped body aside and stood up to see who it was.
Drenched in the rain, hairs muddled into messy strands and with an agitated face stood our college messenger in a bowing posture,
“Sir, I got a letter for you” and shoved his fumbling hand into his hemchu*and took out a crumbled envelope, bearing my name,
‘‘To,
Karma Thukten
Sherubtse College- Kanglung’’
On the right top vertex was pasted a torn stamp with a fortress bearing the name- Paro Dzong** in silhouette, rest being rendered obscure possibly by the water that seeped in the messenger’s pocket. I could see Nu.10 on the stamp and partially distorted seal, “Wamrong post office”. The stamp had a serrated outline.
“Any idea, who sent this letter to me?”
“I have no idea sir; it was brought to me by the postman. I thought it would be imperative and mean emergency so I rushed here”.
“ Here, sir’’, the messenger handed over the epistle and hurried downstairs giving me no opportunity to even say,’’ Thank you” or call him over a cup of hot steaming tea.
Looking at the envelope from all facets conjecturing who would have sent it, a medium that’s nudged away and ignored by many upon the advent of modern media, I sat on the pile of my blanket heaped on the bed to open it.
I tore open the envelope assuring the page inside intact and sent my inquisitive glances over the words written.
It was one paged letter penned down over an orthodox ruled paper with horrible pencil handwriting to have been written by any of my adult friends, to the best of my knowledge and it read:
It was a brief writing jotted down with much perseverance and love by my younger sister, Tshewang Lhamo whom we fondly call zamin meaning ‘girl’ in our eastern parlance, at home.
I felt a sudden trauma in my heart as I read through the lines. It has been awhile and possibly ages since I haven’t met my family and to get apprised my younger brother, Dawa fallen ill. The letter, though brief appeared so eloquent, though erroneous looked grammatically perfect and reading for more than thrice had me shedding brimful of tears.
For sometime, I lay on my bed looking at how my joy could fit in that piece of chit my younger sister sent me. I knew I wouldn’t have been that exulted had some bosses in a firm sent a promotion memo or a billet-doux from one’s heartthrob.
Messages in a phone get deleted, sweet words of our sweet heart get forgotten, that can only be partially remembered upon hard recollection but a letter of that ilk from someone who loves you beyond surmise more than your love remains there to be read once, twice, thrice and repeatedly to smile amid tears and feel someone’s there for you when whole world stands aside, away from you.
I can’t say how happy I was that moment but can certainly bet I was the happiest of all, that very moment.
Karma Thukten
4th of November, 2010
*Hemchu is a pocket made by a Bhutanese male gown
I
Was peeking through the window ajar, a tree squealing in the storm, its apex bent through considerable angle that I feared the tree would break, thick droplets of rain pattering over black pitched road and people pacing to and fro hastily not forgetting to exchange rapid greeting by way of reluctant nods, when I heard footsteps approaching the threshold of my door.
‘Tap…tap’, someone knocked, I shrugged woolen blanket from my warmly wrapped body aside and stood up to see who it was.
Drenched in the rain, hairs muddled into messy strands and with an agitated face stood our college messenger in a bowing posture,
“Sir, I got a letter for you” and shoved his fumbling hand into his hemchu*and took out a crumbled envelope, bearing my name,
‘‘To,
Karma Thukten
Sherubtse College- Kanglung’’
On the right top vertex was pasted a torn stamp with a fortress bearing the name- Paro Dzong** in silhouette, rest being rendered obscure possibly by the water that seeped in the messenger’s pocket. I could see Nu.10 on the stamp and partially distorted seal, “Wamrong post office”. The stamp had a serrated outline.
“Any idea, who sent this letter to me?”
“I have no idea sir; it was brought to me by the postman. I thought it would be imperative and mean emergency so I rushed here”.
“ Here, sir’’, the messenger handed over the epistle and hurried downstairs giving me no opportunity to even say,’’ Thank you” or call him over a cup of hot steaming tea.
Looking at the envelope from all facets conjecturing who would have sent it, a medium that’s nudged away and ignored by many upon the advent of modern media, I sat on the pile of my blanket heaped on the bed to open it.
I tore open the envelope assuring the page inside intact and sent my inquisitive glances over the words written.
It was one paged letter penned down over an orthodox ruled paper with horrible pencil handwriting to have been written by any of my adult friends, to the best of my knowledge and it read:
It was a brief writing jotted down with much perseverance and love by my younger sister, Tshewang Lhamo whom we fondly call zamin meaning ‘girl’ in our eastern parlance, at home.
I felt a sudden trauma in my heart as I read through the lines. It has been awhile and possibly ages since I haven’t met my family and to get apprised my younger brother, Dawa fallen ill. The letter, though brief appeared so eloquent, though erroneous looked grammatically perfect and reading for more than thrice had me shedding brimful of tears.
For sometime, I lay on my bed looking at how my joy could fit in that piece of chit my younger sister sent me. I knew I wouldn’t have been that exulted had some bosses in a firm sent a promotion memo or a billet-doux from one’s heartthrob.
Messages in a phone get deleted, sweet words of our sweet heart get forgotten, that can only be partially remembered upon hard recollection but a letter of that ilk from someone who loves you beyond surmise more than your love remains there to be read once, twice, thrice and repeatedly to smile amid tears and feel someone’s there for you when whole world stands aside, away from you.
I can’t say how happy I was that moment but can certainly bet I was the happiest of all, that very moment.
Karma Thukten
4th of November, 2010
*Hemchu is a pocket made by a Bhutanese male gown
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
THERE, HE IS MY FATHER
THERE, HE IS MY FATHER
Didn’t you hold my flabby hand
And lead me through the crowd,
Seating me on your lap
And of my visage laud?
Didn’t you recount tales
Million times told,
Just to lull me into sleep
When I was a year old?
Wasn’t it your tear
From a crestfallen heart,
Incessantly trickling on my cheeks
When your marriage tore apart?
Didn’t you swap your onus
Of being mom and dad
To cater juveniles four,
Whose smiles kept you glad?
Wasn’t it you, who taught me the word, ‘dad’
Which with soft tweets I mumbled,
Hearing which words you wept
Covertly with hands fumbled?
Whenever thorns pricked my soft flesh,
Wasn’t it you, who bore the agony,
Condemning self for not being good
Taking care of me?
No matter how hideous,
Destitute, old or lame
The parents are, their
Children will always love them.
My father, aged are you now,
Vision, weak to see
Your son standing to hold your hand
And walk together as once you did to me.
KARMA THUKTEN
31ST OF AUGUST, 2010
Didn’t you hold my flabby hand
And lead me through the crowd,
Seating me on your lap
And of my visage laud?
Didn’t you recount tales
Million times told,
Just to lull me into sleep
When I was a year old?
Wasn’t it your tear
From a crestfallen heart,
Incessantly trickling on my cheeks
When your marriage tore apart?
Didn’t you swap your onus
Of being mom and dad
To cater juveniles four,
Whose smiles kept you glad?
Wasn’t it you, who taught me the word, ‘dad’
Which with soft tweets I mumbled,
Hearing which words you wept
Covertly with hands fumbled?
Whenever thorns pricked my soft flesh,
Wasn’t it you, who bore the agony,
Condemning self for not being good
Taking care of me?
No matter how hideous,
Destitute, old or lame
The parents are, their
Children will always love them.
My father, aged are you now,
Vision, weak to see
Your son standing to hold your hand
And walk together as once you did to me.
KARMA THUKTEN
31ST OF AUGUST, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
SWEET MONSOON SHOWER
Flowers fill the fallow farm
As monsoon rain spill,
Morning fresh and weather warm,
Monsoon’s down the hill.
Autumn hails brimful of smiles
Of joyous monsoon rain,
Seeping along thousand miles,
It bickers down the drain.
Sings in delight the monsoon rain
Pattering on my window sill,
“I give the farmers grain
And shower at my will”.
Trees sway in unison
When breeze ascends the valley,
Merry birds chirp in fun
Soaring aloft in rally.
Covertly patrols Sarus Crane,
Mooing buffaloes wallow,
Dipping in monsoon rain
Ponds wide and shallow.
Morning damp and foliage green,
Earth abound with cherries,
When monsoon ushers in
Brings in heavenly bliss!
Floral aroma in the air
With laden pollen dust,
To pray, I shall dare,
Monsoon forever last!
Karma Thukten
3rd of August, 2010
TIGER AND THE LAMB
Dimly was the evening lit,
Bleakly shone the moon,
Tick-tick the clock ticked
Seven past the noon.
Staggered forth a thirsty lamb
To where a brook was,
Tiger hid hushed and dumb
Behind the lemon grass.
Alighting beast anon to pounce,
“Spare me”, the lamb cried,
“I weigh lean half an ounce
Won’t appease your appetite”.
“My limbs frail and lean,
Born back the dozen days,
Insipid flesh and belly thin,
Just learnt to graze”.
“How ravenous a tiger is,
Grasses, we munch not,
Predate preys not to please.
To live”, the tiger roared.
“Our food’s hard earned,
Got two cubs to feed,
Empty belly I hunt
We don’t live on tumble-weed”.
“Labyrinth-nature plays,
Doleful creatures stray.
Foodweb’s a maze,
For long it’ll stay”.
“Feet injured and teeth blunt,
Cubs in me has no faith,
If I don’t hunt,
Won’t they starve to death?”
“If morrow, grasses plead
to feed on huss
Or on a fetid meat,
Would you forgo grass?”
“Devour me”, the lamb bleat,
“My skin for you, friend.
Let your cubs feed
Till I wholly end”.
Karma Thukten
4th Of August, 2010
Bleakly shone the moon,
Tick-tick the clock ticked
Seven past the noon.
Staggered forth a thirsty lamb
To where a brook was,
Tiger hid hushed and dumb
Behind the lemon grass.
Alighting beast anon to pounce,
“Spare me”, the lamb cried,
“I weigh lean half an ounce
Won’t appease your appetite”.
“My limbs frail and lean,
Born back the dozen days,
Insipid flesh and belly thin,
Just learnt to graze”.
“How ravenous a tiger is,
Grasses, we munch not,
Predate preys not to please.
To live”, the tiger roared.
“Our food’s hard earned,
Got two cubs to feed,
Empty belly I hunt
We don’t live on tumble-weed”.
“Labyrinth-nature plays,
Doleful creatures stray.
Foodweb’s a maze,
For long it’ll stay”.
“Feet injured and teeth blunt,
Cubs in me has no faith,
If I don’t hunt,
Won’t they starve to death?”
“If morrow, grasses plead
to feed on huss
Or on a fetid meat,
Would you forgo grass?”
“Devour me”, the lamb bleat,
“My skin for you, friend.
Let your cubs feed
Till I wholly end”.
Karma Thukten
4th Of August, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
IT TAKES A WILL TO CHANGE THE WORLD
IT TAKES A WILL TO CHANGE THE WORLD
Whenever in awe you are,
World jeering you with gales of laughter,
Downtrodden and lost in hope,
And when you feel you’re a dope…
Whenever your attempts turn futile,
Foot refuses to walk another mile,
Your sweats seep into dreary river bed
sinking beneath, unrewarded…
Whenever you feel agony in heart,
Your dreams shattered apart,
Repeated failures let you down
I pray, look around…
Look at those beauty created by men,
A car, computer, ship and plane,
Built by an assiduous man so blue
at initial failures just like you!
The will to succeed is what takes you
to success bulldozing your way through
obstacles of criticisms and blame,
Bearing only at the end, fruits of name and fame
Be it to paint skies with colors manifold
Or to carve earth with gold,
It takes an optimist man, young or old
A will to change the world.
Karma Thukten
14th July, 2010
Whenever in awe you are,
World jeering you with gales of laughter,
Downtrodden and lost in hope,
And when you feel you’re a dope…
Whenever your attempts turn futile,
Foot refuses to walk another mile,
Your sweats seep into dreary river bed
sinking beneath, unrewarded…
Whenever you feel agony in heart,
Your dreams shattered apart,
Repeated failures let you down
I pray, look around…
Look at those beauty created by men,
A car, computer, ship and plane,
Built by an assiduous man so blue
at initial failures just like you!
The will to succeed is what takes you
to success bulldozing your way through
obstacles of criticisms and blame,
Bearing only at the end, fruits of name and fame
Be it to paint skies with colors manifold
Or to carve earth with gold,
It takes an optimist man, young or old
A will to change the world.
Karma Thukten
14th July, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
VALEDICTORY WORDS FOR MY SENIORS
Together we watched the sun set,
Together defied academic laws,
Together, mocked at people
Over their silly flaws.
Together we greeted seasons in,
Together merrily sang aloud,
Together, we learnt
Day in, day out!
Together in agony we wept,
Together worked as a part,
Together we soothed
A broken heart!
Together teachers turned us sagacious,
Together hardships we resisted,
Together always, we stayed,
As though loneliness never existed!
Togetherness has become our habit,
Be it to listen or to talk,
But now, as you would go away
We would forget even to walk.
The chairs upon which you sat once,
Vacant later, we may find,
But you shall be missed,
Loved and thought always in our mind.
Deserting the place you would leave,
Poor me, gifts I have not,
But words expressing my love,
For words are all I have got.
We shall pray for thy success,
Almighty deprive thee of pain
And a time more
Bring us together again.
Karma Thukten
28/06/2010
Together defied academic laws,
Together, mocked at people
Over their silly flaws.
Together we greeted seasons in,
Together merrily sang aloud,
Together, we learnt
Day in, day out!
Together in agony we wept,
Together worked as a part,
Together we soothed
A broken heart!
Together teachers turned us sagacious,
Together hardships we resisted,
Together always, we stayed,
As though loneliness never existed!
Togetherness has become our habit,
Be it to listen or to talk,
But now, as you would go away
We would forget even to walk.
The chairs upon which you sat once,
Vacant later, we may find,
But you shall be missed,
Loved and thought always in our mind.
Deserting the place you would leave,
Poor me, gifts I have not,
But words expressing my love,
For words are all I have got.
We shall pray for thy success,
Almighty deprive thee of pain
And a time more
Bring us together again.
Karma Thukten
28/06/2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
ON HIS DEATH-BED
ON HIS DEATH-BED
M
y grandpa lay in his death bed, pale as spring rose swaying amid gentle breeze deprived of nutrition. He looked so worn out from the life he has had spent over 84 years, his physical looks would testify my statement- wrinkled faces with whatever little flesh he had thrown into folds of pink tinge, facial bones accentuated into massive protuberance above the lean jaws, grey hairs so messy as though not combed for ages and incessantly he coughed in spurts moving feebly his sight around us assembled to bid him final farewell. He had blue blanket presented to him by my father during his visit to village, covered his torso till his chest. As he swerved a bit, his old bed, perhaps as old as himself crackled with an obnoxious clatter.
‘’ It feels so great to have all of you here at a same time’’, grandpa groaned with a hoarse voice as my father watched him with eyes brimful of tears, ‘’ its 12 years since your mom passed away Dhendup’’, he told my pensive father
‘’ yes, I remember father, since when I was 18 years of age’’, my father responded in his shaky voice filled with agony as he watched me stand aside to him.
‘’ Karma, I want you to pick up that old tape recorder of mine on the shelf, I won it during singing competition held by the district government. It was the time when Pema got really impressed with me…’’.
“Pema…?’’
‘’ your grandmother’’, my father whispered.
‘’ I still remember the night she was seated on a chair watching me sing on the stage. She was the most beautiful lady then, attired in her favorite Kira* and tego**, her sweet glittering eyes whose glare was so mesmerizing. I was sort of hero then with all my heart given to her. Karma, play that audio cassette of my recorded voice sung that night of 1920, it’s beside the tape-recorder. I listen to it everytime rejuvenating my memories of my erstwhile love, my wife who left me alone to shoulder the bitter world, now that am bedridden, I want you to play for me’’, he said pointing to the shelf with his fumbling finger with tears flowing like a brook along the gorges from his weak-sighted eyes.
‘’ Yes, I will do that’’, I obeyed. Then I shoved the cassette in the recorder and pushed the ‘play’ button. It didn’t take long when we could hear our granddad sing in his powerful and enchanting voice as he took a deep breath of relief listening to it. My father broke out in a burst of tears as he heard his father sing; perhaps he heard the song long before I was ever born.
‘’ I used to collect wild berries from the woods for her. Last week, I went to see that tree but it has dried up, shriveled to that extent that it took me couple of minutes to figure it out, till I remembered the bough Pema used to cling on while I climbed up, it remained all the same’’, he held her photo, black and white torn at the edges close to his heart gazing frequently and crying hard.
On the old shelf were frames with the young photos of him, young and energetic that pretty much looked liked me. Many a times I heard my dad say that I resemble granddad for which I didn’t believe much but now, he truly was like me, same dreamy eyes with that glowing face and notorious smile I have on my face now. The photo lasted for ages all the same conserving his strength though in factuality his strength dwindled and sight weakened.
‘’ It was our happiest day when she gave birth to Dhendup, the symbol of our love that we kept alive all those years. I am weak now, I was also like you Karma, strong and impulsive when I was young, you see that trophy, that one over the table, I got it when I was declared man of the match in a soccer match by the mayor of the district. I can’t even walk now, that’s the bizarre transformation time brings in, my son’’.
I found my eyes tickling at the edges as I listened to him to finally give way to tears. The melodious song was still in the air as though he sang it yesterday and not ages ago.
‘’ Karma, I want you to revere your parents, hurt not others with what hurts you, be good and honest for life is short and we can’t adhere to one we love for eternity. I know you are a good man now, no more a boy. Be rational for wise rule the world. I have to go now, for many times I offended Pema by not reciprocating her everytime she calls me in the middle of the night since she left me. I got to go now. I am complacent you people came to watch me, It isn't an intestate death now’’.
All of us burst into tears as he, for the last time kissed her photo and closed his eyes to get into never waking slumber.
Karma Thukten
27/06/2010
*Dress worn by Bhutanese women woven out of intricate patterns covering their whole body till the toes
** Cloth worn by women over the Kira
M
y grandpa lay in his death bed, pale as spring rose swaying amid gentle breeze deprived of nutrition. He looked so worn out from the life he has had spent over 84 years, his physical looks would testify my statement- wrinkled faces with whatever little flesh he had thrown into folds of pink tinge, facial bones accentuated into massive protuberance above the lean jaws, grey hairs so messy as though not combed for ages and incessantly he coughed in spurts moving feebly his sight around us assembled to bid him final farewell. He had blue blanket presented to him by my father during his visit to village, covered his torso till his chest. As he swerved a bit, his old bed, perhaps as old as himself crackled with an obnoxious clatter.
‘’ It feels so great to have all of you here at a same time’’, grandpa groaned with a hoarse voice as my father watched him with eyes brimful of tears, ‘’ its 12 years since your mom passed away Dhendup’’, he told my pensive father
‘’ yes, I remember father, since when I was 18 years of age’’, my father responded in his shaky voice filled with agony as he watched me stand aside to him.
‘’ Karma, I want you to pick up that old tape recorder of mine on the shelf, I won it during singing competition held by the district government. It was the time when Pema got really impressed with me…’’.
“Pema…?’’
‘’ your grandmother’’, my father whispered.
‘’ I still remember the night she was seated on a chair watching me sing on the stage. She was the most beautiful lady then, attired in her favorite Kira* and tego**, her sweet glittering eyes whose glare was so mesmerizing. I was sort of hero then with all my heart given to her. Karma, play that audio cassette of my recorded voice sung that night of 1920, it’s beside the tape-recorder. I listen to it everytime rejuvenating my memories of my erstwhile love, my wife who left me alone to shoulder the bitter world, now that am bedridden, I want you to play for me’’, he said pointing to the shelf with his fumbling finger with tears flowing like a brook along the gorges from his weak-sighted eyes.
‘’ Yes, I will do that’’, I obeyed. Then I shoved the cassette in the recorder and pushed the ‘play’ button. It didn’t take long when we could hear our granddad sing in his powerful and enchanting voice as he took a deep breath of relief listening to it. My father broke out in a burst of tears as he heard his father sing; perhaps he heard the song long before I was ever born.
‘’ I used to collect wild berries from the woods for her. Last week, I went to see that tree but it has dried up, shriveled to that extent that it took me couple of minutes to figure it out, till I remembered the bough Pema used to cling on while I climbed up, it remained all the same’’, he held her photo, black and white torn at the edges close to his heart gazing frequently and crying hard.
On the old shelf were frames with the young photos of him, young and energetic that pretty much looked liked me. Many a times I heard my dad say that I resemble granddad for which I didn’t believe much but now, he truly was like me, same dreamy eyes with that glowing face and notorious smile I have on my face now. The photo lasted for ages all the same conserving his strength though in factuality his strength dwindled and sight weakened.
‘’ It was our happiest day when she gave birth to Dhendup, the symbol of our love that we kept alive all those years. I am weak now, I was also like you Karma, strong and impulsive when I was young, you see that trophy, that one over the table, I got it when I was declared man of the match in a soccer match by the mayor of the district. I can’t even walk now, that’s the bizarre transformation time brings in, my son’’.
I found my eyes tickling at the edges as I listened to him to finally give way to tears. The melodious song was still in the air as though he sang it yesterday and not ages ago.
‘’ Karma, I want you to revere your parents, hurt not others with what hurts you, be good and honest for life is short and we can’t adhere to one we love for eternity. I know you are a good man now, no more a boy. Be rational for wise rule the world. I have to go now, for many times I offended Pema by not reciprocating her everytime she calls me in the middle of the night since she left me. I got to go now. I am complacent you people came to watch me, It isn't an intestate death now’’.
All of us burst into tears as he, for the last time kissed her photo and closed his eyes to get into never waking slumber.
Karma Thukten
27/06/2010
*Dress worn by Bhutanese women woven out of intricate patterns covering their whole body till the toes
** Cloth worn by women over the Kira
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
MANALI-THE VALLEY OF GODS
MANALI-THE VALLEY OF GODS
Not by the greeting faces of sun-tanned fellows,
Along the highway, by sheer swaying willows
But, immense serenity soaked in the valley
Were we welcomed by the little town of Manali*.
Chilly wind of North escorted us in
Through vales bountiful of fresh floras all green.
Snow clad peaks zeroed in, gleaming white as ever,
As we cruised along, growling winding river.
Picturesque little houses strewn all over
Vales of paradise for enthusiastic nature lover,
Who long to see the glittering glaciers glow,
Listen to the faint jingling of rhythmic wind blow.
Men wrapped in fur overcoats with designed bouquets,
Fumbling hands shoved deep in their pockets,
Wearing wellingtons knee heighted in Manali sold
Do the fortunate mortals rejoice in cold.
Colorful attires and hats adorn the earth,
Men amid delightful weather stroll in mirth
Whistling and singing ditties of spring joys
As graceful young girls walk past the flirty boys!
Majestic Deodar trees on terrains all around,
Tulips growing ubiquitously along the sloping mound
Tinted with flaky white snow
Brings within peace to people dwelling below.
If you hadn’t seen heavenly bliss for ages,
And deem to be one of those lost sages
In quest of tranquility in doldrums albeit,
Visit charming Manali, happiness guaranteed!
Karma Thukten
23/06/2010
*Manali is a little exquisite town in Himachal Pradesh
Not by the greeting faces of sun-tanned fellows,
Along the highway, by sheer swaying willows
But, immense serenity soaked in the valley
Were we welcomed by the little town of Manali*.
Chilly wind of North escorted us in
Through vales bountiful of fresh floras all green.
Snow clad peaks zeroed in, gleaming white as ever,
As we cruised along, growling winding river.
Picturesque little houses strewn all over
Vales of paradise for enthusiastic nature lover,
Who long to see the glittering glaciers glow,
Listen to the faint jingling of rhythmic wind blow.
Men wrapped in fur overcoats with designed bouquets,
Fumbling hands shoved deep in their pockets,
Wearing wellingtons knee heighted in Manali sold
Do the fortunate mortals rejoice in cold.
Colorful attires and hats adorn the earth,
Men amid delightful weather stroll in mirth
Whistling and singing ditties of spring joys
As graceful young girls walk past the flirty boys!
Majestic Deodar trees on terrains all around,
Tulips growing ubiquitously along the sloping mound
Tinted with flaky white snow
Brings within peace to people dwelling below.
If you hadn’t seen heavenly bliss for ages,
And deem to be one of those lost sages
In quest of tranquility in doldrums albeit,
Visit charming Manali, happiness guaranteed!
Karma Thukten
23/06/2010
*Manali is a little exquisite town in Himachal Pradesh
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
THE INJURED BEE
To usher cool breeze in,
I flung the window ajar,
Anon, a bee pushed in,
Battered itself on the window bar.
Ferocious look, sting at its end,
scared, I jumped on my bed,
apprehensive, it would sting my hand
or face or leg or head.
Incessantly, the bee spun on the floor,
Abortive attempt to fly and flee,
As I watched with utmost terror,
Injured was the poor bee.
Contemplating absolutely no danger,
In a box for safety, I placed the bee,
Hoping that poor patient recover
From the plight of injury.
As I opened the box to see my friend
Later, I suffered immense compunction,
I had the bee killed, it met its end
resulting from my flawed redemption.
The love of that bee would have along roadside,
Been waiting for the deceased bee
In the morning twilight, day and night
Searching for distances till the depth of sea.
They would have flown together dating
On bright mosaic petals humming romantic ditty,
Planning their never-to-come grand wedding.
Tell me then, shouldn’t I feel guilty???
Karma Thukten
06th of April, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
THREE MEALS A DAY
THREE MEALS A DAY
It isn’t the prestige that keeps a man alive,
Neither prayers that you chant the whole day,
Not box crammed with a million cents,
But, three meals a day.
Painters spend their lives in portraits,
Dramatists in their fake play,
With a vivid motive of earning,
Three meals a day.
Man awake, guard the whole night,
Forgoing health though for a meager pay,
Just to bestow his families with
Three meals a day.
Destitute vagrants extend their arms on pathway,
Farmers till earth and tend their hay,
Sculptors strive to wear statue the best look
Only to devour, three meals a day.
If three meals’ what men need,
Why affray and violent deed?
What for are the battles fought?
What for are the powers sought?
It doesn’t require a lucrative post,
To make through your way
In earning a simple diet of,
Three meals a day.
Why then people aspire for more?
Confront those impeding their way?
Aren’t these people satiated with,
Three meals a day???
Karma Thukten
24th of March, 2010
It isn’t the prestige that keeps a man alive,
Neither prayers that you chant the whole day,
Not box crammed with a million cents,
But, three meals a day.
Painters spend their lives in portraits,
Dramatists in their fake play,
With a vivid motive of earning,
Three meals a day.
Man awake, guard the whole night,
Forgoing health though for a meager pay,
Just to bestow his families with
Three meals a day.
Destitute vagrants extend their arms on pathway,
Farmers till earth and tend their hay,
Sculptors strive to wear statue the best look
Only to devour, three meals a day.
If three meals’ what men need,
Why affray and violent deed?
What for are the battles fought?
What for are the powers sought?
It doesn’t require a lucrative post,
To make through your way
In earning a simple diet of,
Three meals a day.
Why then people aspire for more?
Confront those impeding their way?
Aren’t these people satiated with,
Three meals a day???
Karma Thukten
24th of March, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
TRUE LOVE DEFINED
TRUE LOVE DEFINED!!
Fallen under a tall growing willow,
Wriggled an injured young sparrow
Scared and weary of helpless flappings
Of its tender and undeveloped wings.
Countless birds chirped merrily in the sky,
Leaving the only bird unable to fly,
Injured, bruised and lame
Amid fiery predators in quest of game.
Aside, a stray dog happened to pass by,
Ravenous, obsession in its eye,
Lurking around for fowls to steal,
Dire hungry to feed even on putrid meal.
The dog alights upon the young bird,
With massive teeth ready to tear it apart,
From its massive jaw, filthy saliva drips,
To devour its prey sly dog creeps.
From a bough, then mother-sparrow fall
Pecking hard on the dog’s nozzle,
Terrified, feathers standing at its end
Heart palpitating, it faces the giant.
Afraid too was the mother-sparrow,
Yet an inward force compelled her to go
To save her baby bird so dear
Driven by love so great for her fear.
The love of her was greater than the death,
An inward force fear couldn’t impede,
Dog seemed to have appreciated her gallantry,
Still hungry, the dog left them free!
Karma Thukten
23rd March, 2010
Fallen under a tall growing willow,
Wriggled an injured young sparrow
Scared and weary of helpless flappings
Of its tender and undeveloped wings.
Countless birds chirped merrily in the sky,
Leaving the only bird unable to fly,
Injured, bruised and lame
Amid fiery predators in quest of game.
Aside, a stray dog happened to pass by,
Ravenous, obsession in its eye,
Lurking around for fowls to steal,
Dire hungry to feed even on putrid meal.
The dog alights upon the young bird,
With massive teeth ready to tear it apart,
From its massive jaw, filthy saliva drips,
To devour its prey sly dog creeps.
From a bough, then mother-sparrow fall
Pecking hard on the dog’s nozzle,
Terrified, feathers standing at its end
Heart palpitating, it faces the giant.
Afraid too was the mother-sparrow,
Yet an inward force compelled her to go
To save her baby bird so dear
Driven by love so great for her fear.
The love of her was greater than the death,
An inward force fear couldn’t impede,
Dog seemed to have appreciated her gallantry,
Still hungry, the dog left them free!
Karma Thukten
23rd March, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
NIGHT OF TRANQUILITY
NIGHT OF TRANQUILITY
The sky is clear tonight,
Bathed in moons’ brilliant rays,
That the heaven wholly lit
Sets dazzled earth ablaze.
Million stars hanging aloft whisper
Filling vacuum with gossips of heavenly bodies,
Enthralling the poor tantalized planets
With their twinkling beauties.
Moon sets out with a boat,
Humming across the clouds, it doth drift,
Halting to repose its massive sphere
at places on rugged earthly rift.
Rescuing the earth from the dark,
When deluded men loses to fake dreams,
Moon cast her royal shadow
Upon blissful winding streams.
Parliament of owls hoot their best songs,
To welcome queen moon tonight,
Who reward with darkness illuminated,
As the complacent moon from the boat alight.
Nocturnal creatures rejoice in triumph,
Dancing as the breeze play pleasant tune,
Clouds fall apart to give way
For the voyage of the Queen Moon.
Early dawn as the sun awakens,
To see mortals in doldrums weep,
Tired stars, planets and Queen Moon
Dimmer their lights and go to sleep
Karma Thukten
22nd of March, 2010
The sky is clear tonight,
Bathed in moons’ brilliant rays,
That the heaven wholly lit
Sets dazzled earth ablaze.
Million stars hanging aloft whisper
Filling vacuum with gossips of heavenly bodies,
Enthralling the poor tantalized planets
With their twinkling beauties.
Moon sets out with a boat,
Humming across the clouds, it doth drift,
Halting to repose its massive sphere
at places on rugged earthly rift.
Rescuing the earth from the dark,
When deluded men loses to fake dreams,
Moon cast her royal shadow
Upon blissful winding streams.
Parliament of owls hoot their best songs,
To welcome queen moon tonight,
Who reward with darkness illuminated,
As the complacent moon from the boat alight.
Nocturnal creatures rejoice in triumph,
Dancing as the breeze play pleasant tune,
Clouds fall apart to give way
For the voyage of the Queen Moon.
Early dawn as the sun awakens,
To see mortals in doldrums weep,
Tired stars, planets and Queen Moon
Dimmer their lights and go to sleep
Karma Thukten
22nd of March, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
SAVE THE EARTH
SAVE THE EARTH
Humans have gone insane and wild,
Such insanity which care not even their child,
The bequest of forefathers they fulfilled not
to deliver an intact nature to the coming lot.
Earth is menaced and ill-treated,
Roses have withered, beautiful glaciers retreated,
Temperature has shot up, earth has got heated,
The trust of Almighty have the mortals cheated!
Copious trees are felled daily,
Which once adorned, now naked lies the valley.
Where has the cool breeze gone?
The tree under whose shade poets sat forlorn?
Where’s the bough upon whose twigs perched the Blue Jay?
The green meadow mob of deer play all day?
The meandering brook that relieved Sambar from heat?
The sedges inside which tiger healed its injured feet?
Hark! The Nightingale chirp melancholic song
‘’ Mercy on us”, for all passers-by drifting along
An innocent request to be disseminated near and far
With sweet and soft tweets, we fail to decipher.
Nature has warned us of our misdemeanour,
With calamities all over, deaths galore
Would be stupid to waste a minute more
To stand and stare wrathful nature roar!
So Swear by the tears in the depth of tigers’ eye,
By the concern of white cranes that flies by,
taking an oath to revive the long lost mirth,
and join hands to save our mother, EARTH!
Karma Thukten
18th of February, 2010
Humans have gone insane and wild,
Such insanity which care not even their child,
The bequest of forefathers they fulfilled not
to deliver an intact nature to the coming lot.
Earth is menaced and ill-treated,
Roses have withered, beautiful glaciers retreated,
Temperature has shot up, earth has got heated,
The trust of Almighty have the mortals cheated!
Copious trees are felled daily,
Which once adorned, now naked lies the valley.
Where has the cool breeze gone?
The tree under whose shade poets sat forlorn?
Where’s the bough upon whose twigs perched the Blue Jay?
The green meadow mob of deer play all day?
The meandering brook that relieved Sambar from heat?
The sedges inside which tiger healed its injured feet?
Hark! The Nightingale chirp melancholic song
‘’ Mercy on us”, for all passers-by drifting along
An innocent request to be disseminated near and far
With sweet and soft tweets, we fail to decipher.
Nature has warned us of our misdemeanour,
With calamities all over, deaths galore
Would be stupid to waste a minute more
To stand and stare wrathful nature roar!
So Swear by the tears in the depth of tigers’ eye,
By the concern of white cranes that flies by,
taking an oath to revive the long lost mirth,
and join hands to save our mother, EARTH!
Karma Thukten
18th of February, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
THE NET LOVE
DISTANT LOVE
Do you love me? Genuinely?’ appeared the query before the screen as I sat chatting on the medium of Person.com with a lass of 19, from Philippines. We were online circa three hours ago and we sat there writing about ourselves, she told me that she was a lass of 19, with white facial complexion and 5ft.3” height. She wrote to me that by virtue of immense high charges and tuition fee, she could not pursue her studies and currently she was working in office earning money so that she could continue her studies subsequently. This was how the chat session went amidst us upon recollecting. The first question I posed was
‘What is your sweet name?’
‘Ryza Salazar and yours?’
‘They call me karma, by the way what is your sex?’
‘Girl. Why?
‘Because I am a boy’ I reciprocated.
‘Boy? What are you intimating to say?’
‘I just wanted to cite Coulombs law that the opposite charges attract while like charges repel’.
‘Ha-ha. So sweet of you’ she responded.
‘Do you believe in blind love because I am having that feel when I am chatting with you?’
‘It is hard to love whom we haven’t seen, what do you say?’ she enquired.
Thinking for a while I responded,’umm… I think it is possibly not mandatory to behold a person, whom we adore, just their charming words could instigate your mind to fall in love, and perhaps it’s what all blind love means, isn’t it?’.
After 20 seconds of wait she wrote to me that she too felt that she fell in love with me, albeit she has not seen me.
This made to think that even a foreign girl could be as compatible as any other girls in Bhutan but, an abrupt melancholy ushered in my psyche that great distance lay between us and in spite of the inclination of the mind to meet her, it simply sounded impossible.
I was quite enthusiastic and found my mind making a vague image of the lady I idolized while on line. So I thought, in pursuit of further knowledge why not I enquire her some more questions and so I found my fingers going smoothly over the keyboard
‘Hey, do you know Bhutan, my country?’
‘Where is it? Please elucidate my dear sweet heart’
Astonished by the question a thought ran through my psyche that we are much behind to that extent that the people are even not apprised of the location of Bhutan. So I began to write
‘Sandwiched between two giant countries, china and India lies a small but serene country where people are compatible and dwell as brothers and sisters, that is Bhutan.
Everything is free in Bhutan and that is why I say with immense pride that to be born in Bhutan you need profuse luck’
‘I see, but here in Philippines, everything is costly. I wish I were in your country, sweet heart, will you take me to your country?’ she enquired
‘Of course, what’s your religion?’
‘Am catholic, what about you?’
‘I am a Buddhist ‘
‘I hope that our religion won’t oppose our relationship during wedding’
‘I think there won’t be any contradictions and confusions. Rather than personalizing religion, I believe in pure deeds, that is my religion’ I typed ‘And I think for these reasons religion won’t stand as a barrier in unifying our souls together, my old flame, I will be keeping my fingers crossed for the day we would be separated by zero distance’
‘I deem myself too fortunate in having you as my heartthrob and if God is the one who brought us together, am quite sure that He will as well unify us’ she wrote.
Then I corresponded instantly,’ my dear! Though the musicians die, their music never die, though the poets perish their poems linger and akin to that, though I may give way to ghost, my love for you will never weather and wilt, it will loiter around till time infinitum’
Like in a dream we met and I don’t know what sort of magical spell did she let befall upon me that now I began to feel a unique sensation in my heart, it took me long to comprehend what was within my heart and only after a prolonged thought did I unravel the fact that I was fallen in so called love with the lady I have never beheld and one who reside miles away. Even in the class I talked of her and my mind with its wing of thoughts took me to her.
The very next day she had sent her photo in my mail address, she was alluring, to be frank. I also sent mine as soon as I received hers’.
Love makes our life worth living and I shall never be able to forget her as she was the one to make me realize that fact. In the book of my life, she has become the most elegant page to cherish and I won’t be able to forget her even if I wish to. I always wait for her, no matter as how the public would view my story but I shall wait for that day when we would be together and I know that day isn’t too far.
No wall can be so strong so as to abandon two hearts from unifying, no distance could be so lengthy so as to alienate two loving hearts and this is the thought which never lets me lose hope. I am sure the world is not so vast that I can’t spot her out.
We still exchange mails and talk about love. I am confident that my dreams will prove true, what do you think???
19/06/2007
Do you love me? Genuinely?’ appeared the query before the screen as I sat chatting on the medium of Person.com with a lass of 19, from Philippines. We were online circa three hours ago and we sat there writing about ourselves, she told me that she was a lass of 19, with white facial complexion and 5ft.3” height. She wrote to me that by virtue of immense high charges and tuition fee, she could not pursue her studies and currently she was working in office earning money so that she could continue her studies subsequently. This was how the chat session went amidst us upon recollecting. The first question I posed was
‘What is your sweet name?’
‘Ryza Salazar and yours?’
‘They call me karma, by the way what is your sex?’
‘Girl. Why?
‘Because I am a boy’ I reciprocated.
‘Boy? What are you intimating to say?’
‘I just wanted to cite Coulombs law that the opposite charges attract while like charges repel’.
‘Ha-ha. So sweet of you’ she responded.
‘Do you believe in blind love because I am having that feel when I am chatting with you?’
‘It is hard to love whom we haven’t seen, what do you say?’ she enquired.
Thinking for a while I responded,’umm… I think it is possibly not mandatory to behold a person, whom we adore, just their charming words could instigate your mind to fall in love, and perhaps it’s what all blind love means, isn’t it?’.
After 20 seconds of wait she wrote to me that she too felt that she fell in love with me, albeit she has not seen me.
This made to think that even a foreign girl could be as compatible as any other girls in Bhutan but, an abrupt melancholy ushered in my psyche that great distance lay between us and in spite of the inclination of the mind to meet her, it simply sounded impossible.
I was quite enthusiastic and found my mind making a vague image of the lady I idolized while on line. So I thought, in pursuit of further knowledge why not I enquire her some more questions and so I found my fingers going smoothly over the keyboard
‘Hey, do you know Bhutan, my country?’
‘Where is it? Please elucidate my dear sweet heart’
Astonished by the question a thought ran through my psyche that we are much behind to that extent that the people are even not apprised of the location of Bhutan. So I began to write
‘Sandwiched between two giant countries, china and India lies a small but serene country where people are compatible and dwell as brothers and sisters, that is Bhutan.
Everything is free in Bhutan and that is why I say with immense pride that to be born in Bhutan you need profuse luck’
‘I see, but here in Philippines, everything is costly. I wish I were in your country, sweet heart, will you take me to your country?’ she enquired
‘Of course, what’s your religion?’
‘Am catholic, what about you?’
‘I am a Buddhist ‘
‘I hope that our religion won’t oppose our relationship during wedding’
‘I think there won’t be any contradictions and confusions. Rather than personalizing religion, I believe in pure deeds, that is my religion’ I typed ‘And I think for these reasons religion won’t stand as a barrier in unifying our souls together, my old flame, I will be keeping my fingers crossed for the day we would be separated by zero distance’
‘I deem myself too fortunate in having you as my heartthrob and if God is the one who brought us together, am quite sure that He will as well unify us’ she wrote.
Then I corresponded instantly,’ my dear! Though the musicians die, their music never die, though the poets perish their poems linger and akin to that, though I may give way to ghost, my love for you will never weather and wilt, it will loiter around till time infinitum’
Like in a dream we met and I don’t know what sort of magical spell did she let befall upon me that now I began to feel a unique sensation in my heart, it took me long to comprehend what was within my heart and only after a prolonged thought did I unravel the fact that I was fallen in so called love with the lady I have never beheld and one who reside miles away. Even in the class I talked of her and my mind with its wing of thoughts took me to her.
The very next day she had sent her photo in my mail address, she was alluring, to be frank. I also sent mine as soon as I received hers’.
Love makes our life worth living and I shall never be able to forget her as she was the one to make me realize that fact. In the book of my life, she has become the most elegant page to cherish and I won’t be able to forget her even if I wish to. I always wait for her, no matter as how the public would view my story but I shall wait for that day when we would be together and I know that day isn’t too far.
No wall can be so strong so as to abandon two hearts from unifying, no distance could be so lengthy so as to alienate two loving hearts and this is the thought which never lets me lose hope. I am sure the world is not so vast that I can’t spot her out.
We still exchange mails and talk about love. I am confident that my dreams will prove true, what do you think???
19/06/2007
THE DOG
The dog
I peered through the dark and my sight alighted on a skinny dog that was busy excavating lumps of earth beneath the debris that came out from the pine leaves beside the soccer field laid once as floor, during convocation held at Sherubtse College.
I paused for a moment, pondering at the dog’s act of building its home, solitarily in the murk of the moment. A thought ran through my psyche that the dog was prudent, while his friends were busy lost in the daily mischievous deeds, that dog was unto a meaningful task, building shelter just aside the college soccer field.
Since then, I found the dog always in its home or at its vicinity.
When students were on the ground playing soccer, the dog simply popped its head out of its burrow and watched the game enthusiastically.
I admired the dog and as I passed its domicile, I always dropped pieces of biscuits for the dog. I felt that some dogs could be much better in their disposition than are some of us, whose mind is stuffed with malice and evil thoughts. The dog always sought shelter in the burrow and whenever nasty boys kicked him, he ran whining and got in to its burrow licking and nursing its hurt parts, whether in agony, mirth or excitement, the dog associated itself with the hole he deemed beyond his playmates.
My interests towards the dog grew to that extent that I began to feel the dog as mine like any other kith and kin of mine. At leisure I used to visit the dog, sometimes I could see him coming to the hole with lumps of food grasped in its mouth, or at times playing with alter egos of its own kind. When the weather marred and gave way to rains, the dog simply kept itself snug and cozy in his room.
It so happened one day, at the act of procuring food from the drain of the college mess, one of the cooks infuriated by the sight, struck the dog with a vegetable knife, the bleeding dog promptly rushed to its safety towards his home, the tint of blood that oozed through the wounded body accentuated the path the dog treaded. The dog ran mourning as if complaining what wrong it had done to the cook, he was just taking food dumped by men and not snatching the shares of others’ right from the plates.
I berated the cook for his malicious act and followed the dog for rescue. I found the dog outside its hole, the blood rushed out of his body in spurts, I stood helpless aside, with eyes filled with tears upon the sight. I tied a thin cloth over its injured spot and could somehow curb the spontaneous flow of blood, the dog seemed to gaze at me with gratitude. We, people interfere in the lives of the animal and devastate the serine state the animals enjoy, we personalize them and display our superiority over the innocent beings, while laws are framed against human injustice, and they are ignored.
God sent us here to live in harmony with all the animals, but much to His surprise we tend to dominate them. That night I came to see if the dog was okay, I retuned being complacent having seen the safety of the dog I adored.
Next morning as I went to pay my humble visit to the wounded friend of mine, I lost my conscience for a moment and started crying to find the dog given way to ghost, he was dead in that same home where he sought shelter, where his every glee was affiliated, see the dog died without complaining, none mourned for the dog save for me. I finally buried the dog in its own home once built by that assiduous dog and prayed few lines for him. Since then, save for the memories of the dog, nothing remained.
Karma Thukten
01/06/2007
I peered through the dark and my sight alighted on a skinny dog that was busy excavating lumps of earth beneath the debris that came out from the pine leaves beside the soccer field laid once as floor, during convocation held at Sherubtse College.
I paused for a moment, pondering at the dog’s act of building its home, solitarily in the murk of the moment. A thought ran through my psyche that the dog was prudent, while his friends were busy lost in the daily mischievous deeds, that dog was unto a meaningful task, building shelter just aside the college soccer field.
Since then, I found the dog always in its home or at its vicinity.
When students were on the ground playing soccer, the dog simply popped its head out of its burrow and watched the game enthusiastically.
I admired the dog and as I passed its domicile, I always dropped pieces of biscuits for the dog. I felt that some dogs could be much better in their disposition than are some of us, whose mind is stuffed with malice and evil thoughts. The dog always sought shelter in the burrow and whenever nasty boys kicked him, he ran whining and got in to its burrow licking and nursing its hurt parts, whether in agony, mirth or excitement, the dog associated itself with the hole he deemed beyond his playmates.
My interests towards the dog grew to that extent that I began to feel the dog as mine like any other kith and kin of mine. At leisure I used to visit the dog, sometimes I could see him coming to the hole with lumps of food grasped in its mouth, or at times playing with alter egos of its own kind. When the weather marred and gave way to rains, the dog simply kept itself snug and cozy in his room.
It so happened one day, at the act of procuring food from the drain of the college mess, one of the cooks infuriated by the sight, struck the dog with a vegetable knife, the bleeding dog promptly rushed to its safety towards his home, the tint of blood that oozed through the wounded body accentuated the path the dog treaded. The dog ran mourning as if complaining what wrong it had done to the cook, he was just taking food dumped by men and not snatching the shares of others’ right from the plates.
I berated the cook for his malicious act and followed the dog for rescue. I found the dog outside its hole, the blood rushed out of his body in spurts, I stood helpless aside, with eyes filled with tears upon the sight. I tied a thin cloth over its injured spot and could somehow curb the spontaneous flow of blood, the dog seemed to gaze at me with gratitude. We, people interfere in the lives of the animal and devastate the serine state the animals enjoy, we personalize them and display our superiority over the innocent beings, while laws are framed against human injustice, and they are ignored.
God sent us here to live in harmony with all the animals, but much to His surprise we tend to dominate them. That night I came to see if the dog was okay, I retuned being complacent having seen the safety of the dog I adored.
Next morning as I went to pay my humble visit to the wounded friend of mine, I lost my conscience for a moment and started crying to find the dog given way to ghost, he was dead in that same home where he sought shelter, where his every glee was affiliated, see the dog died without complaining, none mourned for the dog save for me. I finally buried the dog in its own home once built by that assiduous dog and prayed few lines for him. Since then, save for the memories of the dog, nothing remained.
Karma Thukten
01/06/2007
SECRET IN HEART
Secret in heart
Sometimes I feel am concealing a word within,
Which finds no way out to flow,
Confined in the walls of my heart has it been laid
being left unheard, unseen and unsaid!
The word turned toxic upon the passage of days
corroding fleshy walls of my fragile heart.
I cursed my diffidence, despite being male,
a simple word of love to my beloved I couldn’t tell!
Heart, akin to thumb drives is limited with memories,
With copious words flung in heart in disarray,
Only imperative ones in the heart remains,
Obsolete forgotten, remembered are only those the heart retains.
Etched in my heart is the lady I adore,
Indelible and impalpable in my heart she dwells
Oblivious that in my heart she is,
Whom I desperately love but couldn’t reveal this!
From a nook do I observe her,
satiating the thirst of seeing her.
How could I ever confide the words I have got
to the rustic lass I adore a lot?
It isn’t humane to let a heart suffer
more even when the reason is self.
Is it the wealth, fame or a person’s wit
that can win the hearts of women to be with?
The weather changed not my love for her,
She guided and taught me to love while in heart,
I bore the agony for years or perhaps more
as for her was my love galore.
She was in my heart and will stay for eternity
though I shall never get my much awaited response.
Love need not be reversible; her hatred won’t make me blue
because I know my love for her is god damn true!
21/06/2007
Sometimes I feel am concealing a word within,
Which finds no way out to flow,
Confined in the walls of my heart has it been laid
being left unheard, unseen and unsaid!
The word turned toxic upon the passage of days
corroding fleshy walls of my fragile heart.
I cursed my diffidence, despite being male,
a simple word of love to my beloved I couldn’t tell!
Heart, akin to thumb drives is limited with memories,
With copious words flung in heart in disarray,
Only imperative ones in the heart remains,
Obsolete forgotten, remembered are only those the heart retains.
Etched in my heart is the lady I adore,
Indelible and impalpable in my heart she dwells
Oblivious that in my heart she is,
Whom I desperately love but couldn’t reveal this!
From a nook do I observe her,
satiating the thirst of seeing her.
How could I ever confide the words I have got
to the rustic lass I adore a lot?
It isn’t humane to let a heart suffer
more even when the reason is self.
Is it the wealth, fame or a person’s wit
that can win the hearts of women to be with?
The weather changed not my love for her,
She guided and taught me to love while in heart,
I bore the agony for years or perhaps more
as for her was my love galore.
She was in my heart and will stay for eternity
though I shall never get my much awaited response.
Love need not be reversible; her hatred won’t make me blue
because I know my love for her is god damn true!
21/06/2007
TENSIONS
TENSIONS
With tensions directed from every direction
It’s tedious to be a traffic man,
To be entangled in the web of encumbering thoughts,
Yet, we strain to eschew as much as we can!
It doesn’t wait for approving day to appear,
Ushers in, depriving the comforts of men,
accosting the working brain of impudent or kind,
Devastating and altering the homeostatic state of mind.
People hang and slay themselves when confused
by virtue of the tensions they know, albeit.
No cure and no excuses does it entertain,
Ailments, avoidable, but from tensions you can’t quit!
As the most alluring roses bear thorns
to curb the actions of those who touch it,
so are the people here. There is but none
who, devoid of tensions on this earth are born!
People there, are rewarded and recognized
who concedes the perturbing distress
and rises confidently, with head high to shoulder
the hurdles that obliterates their way to happiness.
Tensions, for optimists are a lesson
Not to keep their tasks pending or undone!
But, for the pessimists, a source of burden,
who deem their tasks impossible, when they can.
Tensions aren’t born but created
By virtue of your immense lethargy,
Nothing is insignificant when it comes to doing
Do it! If you want to be happy!
To have the feel of extreme ecstasy
You can’t quit tensions, you can prevent it
By being rather practical, do what you need to do,
Just don’t let futile tensions hover around you!
06/06/2007
With tensions directed from every direction
It’s tedious to be a traffic man,
To be entangled in the web of encumbering thoughts,
Yet, we strain to eschew as much as we can!
It doesn’t wait for approving day to appear,
Ushers in, depriving the comforts of men,
accosting the working brain of impudent or kind,
Devastating and altering the homeostatic state of mind.
People hang and slay themselves when confused
by virtue of the tensions they know, albeit.
No cure and no excuses does it entertain,
Ailments, avoidable, but from tensions you can’t quit!
As the most alluring roses bear thorns
to curb the actions of those who touch it,
so are the people here. There is but none
who, devoid of tensions on this earth are born!
People there, are rewarded and recognized
who concedes the perturbing distress
and rises confidently, with head high to shoulder
the hurdles that obliterates their way to happiness.
Tensions, for optimists are a lesson
Not to keep their tasks pending or undone!
But, for the pessimists, a source of burden,
who deem their tasks impossible, when they can.
Tensions aren’t born but created
By virtue of your immense lethargy,
Nothing is insignificant when it comes to doing
Do it! If you want to be happy!
To have the feel of extreme ecstasy
You can’t quit tensions, you can prevent it
By being rather practical, do what you need to do,
Just don’t let futile tensions hover around you!
06/06/2007
Thursday, February 11, 2010
BSc. Life Sciences class, Sherubtse College (2006-2008)
BSc. Life Sciences class, Sherubtse College (2006-2008)
As I retreat late night on my bed,
My eyes pondering about the empty space,
Reminiscences usher in my mind
of those bygone college days.
Small class of circa thirty five,
Laughter and giggles of my fellow dear
Is what haunts and faintly jingles
deep, still in my ear.
Sleepy heads juggling amid life and death,
Back benchers engrossed in deeds of distaste,
Few appear meticulous and studious
in their quest of doing the best.
Throughout the year laying in serenity
Striving only at the end for the exams to pass,
Abrupt silence in lieu of the query posed
Were all that used to happen in my class.
Now as I stand in this forest academy,
Abiding by stringent norms befitting an officer
Away from all those blissful life, I pray,
Once again my college days to recur!!!!
10-02-2010
Karma Thukten
As I retreat late night on my bed,
My eyes pondering about the empty space,
Reminiscences usher in my mind
of those bygone college days.
Small class of circa thirty five,
Laughter and giggles of my fellow dear
Is what haunts and faintly jingles
deep, still in my ear.
Sleepy heads juggling amid life and death,
Back benchers engrossed in deeds of distaste,
Few appear meticulous and studious
in their quest of doing the best.
Throughout the year laying in serenity
Striving only at the end for the exams to pass,
Abrupt silence in lieu of the query posed
Were all that used to happen in my class.
Now as I stand in this forest academy,
Abiding by stringent norms befitting an officer
Away from all those blissful life, I pray,
Once again my college days to recur!!!!
10-02-2010
Karma Thukten
Monday, February 8, 2010
THE SOLITARY SLEEPER
THE SOLITARY SLEEPER
The rough unpaved road converged on a small hamlet that lay half concealed in dense forest. I tramped the entire length of road, rejoicing in the way nature looked in the early spring. Everybody knows my craving and how crazy I am when it comes to rambling in our countryside. My mind was soaked in ecstasy with melodic birdsong in my ear; the verdancy of flora adorned the area and a little brook that sparkled added to the poignancy of my experience.
As I ambled along, drinking in the fields and the fruit they bore, my eyes lit upon a solitary lass, who stood amidst the barley field, toiling on her own. The wind whistled, playing a pleasant tune in my ear, and I paused to snatch a better look at her.
I grew curious about this singular lady, her village, her status. All manner of queries tickled my fancy. Agog was I, keen to unearth everything there was to know about her.
Closing in to a distance of a score or so metres, I could make out the smart apparel she wore. A hat designed to block the intense heat of the scorching sun stood out but the rest of her attire escaped my notice. Many thoughts ran through my mind as I drank in the vision of this bucolic beauty. My mind began to fashion an imaginary palace where I found myself in the lady’s embrace. Alluring, she’d enthralled me at first glance and I lay there, supine by her side.
She sang for me and a flock of birds circumambulated us, joining in. A strong gust of wind restored me to my wits. I shook my head to drive out empty thoughts. The lady remained there, still in the field. Had I my camera, I would have taken her snap, then kissed it. I marvelled at how a village girl could look so drop-dead gorgeous. Perhaps, she was the girl who slipped into my dreams and haunted me. The time for thoughts was over, I decided, now for the advance: get closer, get in some wooing.
Talk to her about love; when the words are withheld, they grow toxic and eat at one innards. It’s better to give in or else give up. Making up my mind thus, I zeroed in, eyes fixed on my destination.
Nobody would suspect how overwhelmed I was. A silly smile was on my face as I pictured myself conversing with the lady. I had a lot to share: about my expedition and, especially, about my suffocating feelings for her, secluded lady in the barley field.
My thoughts took me to the extent that I was talking to our children of the future, telling tales of how I met their mother, and the kids would applaud our love story.
I kept that stupid smile on my face as I fantasized on my way closer to this woman of my dreams. Getting real, I thought that, even if our life together was not akin to the fairy tale I conjured up which conclude “happily ever after,” we would still be blessed with enough joy to last a lifetime.
We are mortals and going to the grave may be our ultimate destination but ought not to be our ultimate aim. We must make our stay noteworthy. Fearing death, shall we cease loving?
No, never!
We are here to proliferate love and that is what keeps the world going round. The most meaningful aspect of life lies in loving. The lady I beheld before me was the one who confirmed my world view.
I walked towards her with my speeches prepared and, as I reached a distance of about a half a dozen meters, I became avid to see her face, so I began to pick up the tempo of my steps.
I reached near her but OH MY GOD! The lady was nowhere to be see. In her stead stood a well-simulated scarecrow looking exactly like a lovely lady. My dreams were shattered but I couldn’t help laughing. Surely, my buddies would have a belly-laugh when I told them about it!
Yet I did not discontinue my journey. Hope springs eternal. I kept walking in anticipation that I may meet my soul-mate, and really this time.
5th October, 2007
Karma Thukten
Life Science Sherubtse College
Kanglung Trashigang
The rough unpaved road converged on a small hamlet that lay half concealed in dense forest. I tramped the entire length of road, rejoicing in the way nature looked in the early spring. Everybody knows my craving and how crazy I am when it comes to rambling in our countryside. My mind was soaked in ecstasy with melodic birdsong in my ear; the verdancy of flora adorned the area and a little brook that sparkled added to the poignancy of my experience.
As I ambled along, drinking in the fields and the fruit they bore, my eyes lit upon a solitary lass, who stood amidst the barley field, toiling on her own. The wind whistled, playing a pleasant tune in my ear, and I paused to snatch a better look at her.
I grew curious about this singular lady, her village, her status. All manner of queries tickled my fancy. Agog was I, keen to unearth everything there was to know about her.
Closing in to a distance of a score or so metres, I could make out the smart apparel she wore. A hat designed to block the intense heat of the scorching sun stood out but the rest of her attire escaped my notice. Many thoughts ran through my mind as I drank in the vision of this bucolic beauty. My mind began to fashion an imaginary palace where I found myself in the lady’s embrace. Alluring, she’d enthralled me at first glance and I lay there, supine by her side.
She sang for me and a flock of birds circumambulated us, joining in. A strong gust of wind restored me to my wits. I shook my head to drive out empty thoughts. The lady remained there, still in the field. Had I my camera, I would have taken her snap, then kissed it. I marvelled at how a village girl could look so drop-dead gorgeous. Perhaps, she was the girl who slipped into my dreams and haunted me. The time for thoughts was over, I decided, now for the advance: get closer, get in some wooing.
Talk to her about love; when the words are withheld, they grow toxic and eat at one innards. It’s better to give in or else give up. Making up my mind thus, I zeroed in, eyes fixed on my destination.
Nobody would suspect how overwhelmed I was. A silly smile was on my face as I pictured myself conversing with the lady. I had a lot to share: about my expedition and, especially, about my suffocating feelings for her, secluded lady in the barley field.
My thoughts took me to the extent that I was talking to our children of the future, telling tales of how I met their mother, and the kids would applaud our love story.
I kept that stupid smile on my face as I fantasized on my way closer to this woman of my dreams. Getting real, I thought that, even if our life together was not akin to the fairy tale I conjured up which conclude “happily ever after,” we would still be blessed with enough joy to last a lifetime.
We are mortals and going to the grave may be our ultimate destination but ought not to be our ultimate aim. We must make our stay noteworthy. Fearing death, shall we cease loving?
No, never!
We are here to proliferate love and that is what keeps the world going round. The most meaningful aspect of life lies in loving. The lady I beheld before me was the one who confirmed my world view.
I walked towards her with my speeches prepared and, as I reached a distance of about a half a dozen meters, I became avid to see her face, so I began to pick up the tempo of my steps.
I reached near her but OH MY GOD! The lady was nowhere to be see. In her stead stood a well-simulated scarecrow looking exactly like a lovely lady. My dreams were shattered but I couldn’t help laughing. Surely, my buddies would have a belly-laugh when I told them about it!
Yet I did not discontinue my journey. Hope springs eternal. I kept walking in anticipation that I may meet my soul-mate, and really this time.
5th October, 2007
Karma Thukten
Life Science Sherubtse College
Kanglung Trashigang
Monday, January 18, 2010
BACK TO MY COUNTRY
Along the railway tracks of India,
Crossing terrains I cruise with euphoria,
Speculating at wee minutes there I will be
On the heavenly land of my country.
The noise- polluted populous place
Culminated into a splendid voluminous space,
For one to stretch and loiter, tension-free
On the holy land of my country.
Distasteful noise of busy streets pacified,
Chaos and crowds flung far out of sight,
In a gust of relief retreated my worry
As I stepped on the blessed land of my country.
She is an idyllic paradise on earth,
Where not all but fortunates get birth
To uphold and submit to the power of three:
The King, the People and The country.
She is an abode that bestows bliss in totality,
Where ‘humility’ describes citizens’ mentality
Where not on individuals but on ‘we’ lays the scrutiny
She is the serene Bhutan, my country!
Karma Thukten
04/01/2010
Crossing terrains I cruise with euphoria,
Speculating at wee minutes there I will be
On the heavenly land of my country.
The noise- polluted populous place
Culminated into a splendid voluminous space,
For one to stretch and loiter, tension-free
On the holy land of my country.
Distasteful noise of busy streets pacified,
Chaos and crowds flung far out of sight,
In a gust of relief retreated my worry
As I stepped on the blessed land of my country.
She is an idyllic paradise on earth,
Where not all but fortunates get birth
To uphold and submit to the power of three:
The King, the People and The country.
She is an abode that bestows bliss in totality,
Where ‘humility’ describes citizens’ mentality
Where not on individuals but on ‘we’ lays the scrutiny
She is the serene Bhutan, my country!
Karma Thukten
04/01/2010
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