tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69757573740194982722024-03-23T06:40:31.653-05:00WORLD OF FANTASY VIA INTOXICATED EYES-KAR10THE AGONIZING AND VIOLENT WORLD SEEMINGLY DELUDES TO BE A SPLENDID WORLD TO LIVE AND BE WITHIN WHEN BEHELD VIA INTOXICATED EYESKar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-87952876790242394322023-11-26T22:07:00.001-06:002023-11-26T22:07:19.201-06:00<p> <span style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A Way of Life!</span></p><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="fmfps-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fmfps-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="fmfps-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;"><br data-text="true" style="color: initial; text-decoration-color: initial;" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="bkus2-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bkus2-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="bkus2-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">It's okay to be going through rough times</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="1hvga-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1hvga-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="1hvga-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">It's okay when your life flickers with the dimmest glow.</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="fkde2-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fkde2-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="fkde2-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">It's okay to be broke sometimes</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="9veco-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="9veco-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="9veco-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">or have your luck running all time low</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="djteh-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="djteh-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="djteh-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;"><br data-text="true" style="color: initial; text-decoration-color: initial;" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="618bs-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="618bs-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="618bs-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">Life teaches when you have nothing</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="9ph4c-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="9ph4c-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="9ph4c-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">There's no charm without struggles..</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="1clb9-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1clb9-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="1clb9-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">would you fancy playing easy games</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="rtjl-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rtjl-0-0" style="color: initial; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration-color: initial;"><span data-offset-key="rtjl-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">or a game riddled with puzzles?</span></div><div><span data-offset-key="rtjl-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;"><br /></span></div><div><span data-offset-key="rtjl-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">27th of November, 2023</span></div><div><span data-offset-key="rtjl-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-color: initial;">Lamaigoempa, Bumthang</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4rptm" data-offset-key="87g14-0-0" style="color: initial; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration-color: initial; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-10914206679039486922022-05-25T04:11:00.003-05:002022-05-27T22:56:16.995-05:00Let's tell tree tale<p> Around a little town's corner </p><p>amid rain and breeze,</p><p>growing by the roadside</p><p>there's a tiny grove of trees</p><p><br /></p><p>"I'm grown along the roadsides,</p><p>my leaves are nutritious and mellow.</p><p>People grow me for fodder</p><p>cattle loves me", smirks willow</p><p><br /></p><p>"I might be deserted for being crooked</p><p>left to grow on a rock,</p><p>people shelter under my boughs</p><p>in the scorching sun and rain", prides oak</p><p><br /></p><p>"Majestic and virile</p><p>I can't be felled to make a log,</p><p>creatures dwell in my hollow..</p><p>ecologically important I am", says hemlock</p><p><br /></p><p>"My exudate's used as libation,</p><p>evils with my incense I repress,</p><p>associated with the Buddha</p><p>I am sacrosanct" cries cypress</p><p><br /></p><p>"I can be sculpted on..</p><p>tender, soft and fine</p><p>sought after for furniture</p><p>I beat you all", remarks pine. </p><p><br /></p><p>People from the municipality comes along</p><p>when the bright sun shone</p><p>with maps and axes...</p><p>an hour later, all the trees are gone!</p><p><br /></p><p>Karma Thukten</p><p>25th of May, 2022</p><p>Maokhola-Gelephu</p><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-41580851598839198152021-09-19T04:54:00.002-05:002021-09-19T04:54:17.599-05:00Naturally Beautiful<p>O! Beautiful bodacious angel!</p><p>Dancing in the air,
</p><p>Naturally graceful, naturally elegant,
</p><p>Majestically Painted with flair.
</p><p><br /></p><p>She hasn’t done her eye lashes,
</p><p>Bleached to accentuate feather colour
</p><p>Or whitened her visage,
</p><p>The beautiful European Roller.
</p><p><br /></p><p>She isn’t buxom,
</p><p>She hasn’t worn a wig,
</p><p>She dazzles with her radiance
</p><p>Perched on a squishy twig.
</p><p><br /></p><p>She needs no fancy apparel
</p><p>and put on some ultra high heels,
</p><p> Her beauty isn’t to coax
</p><p>Cockerels to pay the bills.</p><p><br /></p><p>You don’t expend resources
</p><p>To look like a tart,
</p><p>You were innately glowing
</p><p>Right from the start.</p><p><br /></p><p>You’re naturally beautiful</p><p>You don’t need no beauty parlour
</p><p>And if of my words, you don’t buy
</p><p>Remember her, the European Roller!
</p><p><br /></p><p>Karma Thukten</p><p>19th of September, 2021</p><p>Maokhola Outpost, Gelephu</p><p>
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</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-87258141086947438322021-09-16T04:39:00.002-05:002023-09-11T00:45:49.740-05:00Cloud formations- A marvel<p><br /></p><p>Have you ever gazed up the sky,</p><p>Watched the cloud</p><p>And wondered what shapes</p><p>Are they all about?</p><p><br /></p><p>Sometimes you see a turtle,</p><p>Sometimes a palm tree,</p><p>And rarely army of ants</p><p>On some hunting spree.</p><p><br /></p><p>On occasions, you see a cabbage</p><p>A carrot or a cauliflower,</p><p>The shapes keep on changing</p><p>Each passing hour.</p><p><br /></p><p>At times there’s that hare</p><p>And the slothful sluggish snail</p><p>Racing Against the breeze</p><p>Leaving behind a teeny tiny trail.</p><p><br /></p><p>Sometimes you see some eerie figures,</p><p>Sometimes you see some faces</p><p>Or some inconspicuous maps</p><p>Of ancient medieval places.</p><p><br /></p><p>Some shapes are just strange</p><p>Of whose shape, you can’t relate,</p><p>Like a forlorn farmer in the field</p><p>Of oat and millet?</p><p><br /></p><p>Sometimes you see God</p><p>Seated on a throne, our King,</p><p>For inquisitive minds in the sky</p><p>There’s always a thing.</p><p><br /></p><p>When your days are hard,</p><p>Gaze up the skies</p><p>To see some crazy shapes</p><p>Unfolding before your eyes!!</p><p><br /></p><p>Karma Thukten</p><p>16th of September, 2021</p><p>Maokhola Outpost, Gelephu</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-6958316859049667002021-08-02T14:25:00.004-05:002021-08-02T14:25:41.739-05:00Place I call Home<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I see no charm in the brimming river</p><p>or ecstatic tune in the thunderstorm,</p><p>nor melody in the skylark’s song,</p><p>I just miss my home.</p><p><br /></p><p>I am exulted not by the sight of shiny gravels,</p><p>neither the winding brook with frothy foam</p><p>or the mirthful breeze that sweeps along</p><p>but the place I call home.</p><p><br /></p><p>I don’t long for rainbows arching over the vales,</p><p>or moon poised in her silvery throne,</p><p>but a warm cuddle to my kids</p><p>Back at home.</p><p><br /></p><p>I’d rather listen to the plates clatter</p><p>than the nightingale’s song,</p><p>deafening wail of my daughter</p><p> is melodious than its tone.</p><p><br /></p><p>But I have an important job to do,</p><p>Safeguarding my larger home, my country,</p><p>Few months away from my little home...</p><p>Until my Nation’s pandemic-free! </p><p><br /></p><p>Karma Thukten</p><p>2nd of August, 2021</p><p>Maokhola II Outpost</p><p>Gelephu, Sarpang.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-77731737344227380992021-02-18T22:15:00.002-06:002021-02-18T22:15:42.444-06:00A Leader in my Opinion<p> <span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">A great leader is someone who neglects 99 of your follies and commends on 1 good work you've done. He'll never belittle subordinates, pass on condescending remarks, vilify dull minds and infact be the quintessence of inspiration, epitome of motivation and byword for success! At the end of everyday, he'll assess number of colleagues he helped make a difference! That's the Leader we need, that's the Leader a Nation needs, that's the Leader, You and I need!</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-70705432455173367352021-02-04T02:42:00.002-06:002021-02-18T22:14:31.393-06:00Can Money Buy Happiness??<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Can money buy
happiness<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Money has certainly made life convenient but we shouldn’t
confuse convenience with happiness. Money might be able to buy predisposing
factors to happiness but not happiness per se. Worth of a thing can be gauged
by the placement of value by people. Money to a toddler won’t make him happy.
Money can buy a candy that can make a kid happy but not the money itself. Now,
candy can be presented to the kid from a plethora of ways like baking,
stealing, borrowing, the kid finds pleasure in biting into the candy and not in
finding the source of its appearance. Money doesn’t make him happy but the
candy does. It’s like saying money can buy a house but not
home.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Money is a recent development, imagine the era of
prehistoric civilization where there was no monetary concept, were our
forefathers grumpy and sad all the time without even an iota of happiness in
them? Well, if you still argue that money can indeed buy happiness, let’s
exhume a rotting carcass from a graveyard, cram a billion Ngultrums* in his
coffin and place the corpse back. Let’s return the day after and see if the
corpse’s smiling.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Happiness is not a product at a sales counter that money can
buy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> *Ngultrum is Bhutanese Currency calculated at par with Indian Rupee</o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Karma Thukten<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">2<sup>nd</sup> of February, 2021<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Lamaigoempa</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-45886001068063248422019-12-29T22:23:00.002-06:002019-12-29T22:23:59.058-06:00Word of Wisdom<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Don't belittle someone else for his/her sheer being. If someone else ain't upto your expectation, guide the person. A child wetting bed won't stop doing so by mere scolding but if you take the child to the loo in the middle of every night, he/she probably won't wet the bed. Guide a person and he will dazzle everyone with his fiery brilliance. Every person is a raw blemished diamond waiting to have their dusts wiped out and reveal its true being. No one will rise up under suppression/duress, give him space, love and ample motivation, he would probably surpass your potential</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Karma Thukten</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">23rd of December, 2019</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-32073837488445836542018-12-12T23:42:00.000-06:002018-12-12T23:42:13.750-06:00Remix of Well known Saying..<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Early to bed & Early to rise<br />Makes a person healthy, wealthy & wise.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Early to bed & late to rise<br />you miss out your breakfast of tea, omelette and rice.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Early to bed & late to rise<br />Is a shocking surprise.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Early to rise & late to bed<br />you need paracetamol to ease your head.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Late to rise & late to bed<br />Half the neighbours think you're dead.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-top: 6px;">
<a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=100000212401729&extragetparams=%7B%22__tn__%22%3A%22%2CdK-R-R%22%2C%22eid%22%3A%22ARB1CmJDsQbf88cPSIl4vQTiLXJfaAWnhoj_PM9MViyewdYw_2hiKTd5wjq7HUEK2Bx2D5afkLQydwMQ%22%2C%22fref%22%3A%22mentions%22%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/IamyourKar10?__tn__=%2CdK-R-R&eid=ARB1CmJDsQbf88cPSIl4vQTiLXJfaAWnhoj_PM9MViyewdYw_2hiKTd5wjq7HUEK2Bx2D5afkLQydwMQ&fref=mentions" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;">Karma Thukten</a></div>
<div>
December 12, 2014</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-43152353682956302912018-07-31T00:06:00.003-05:002018-07-31T00:10:03.348-05:00<br />
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<span style='font-size:9.0pt'>Take left to<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<span style='font-size:9.0pt'>Kheybeythang<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"
textboxrect="5400,5400,16200,16200"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="_x0000_s1028" type="#_x0000_t126" style='position:absolute;
left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:-3.65pt;margin-top:9.8pt;width:7.3pt;
height:29.05pt;z-index:251660288'/><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><span style="height: 45px; left: 0px; margin-left: -6px; margin-top: 10px; mso-ignore: vglayout; position: absolute; width: 12px; z-index: 251660288;"><img height="45" src="file:///C:/Users/user/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image003.gif" v:shapes="_x0000_s1028" width="12" /></span><!--[endif]-->In a magical cauldron, in the heavens,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="about:invalid#zClosurez" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>wizards conjured
up miracle for days</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
adding in
mysterious mix of potions,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
whipped up this
place.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
A place with
myriad wild flowers,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
colloidal clouds
drifting on tree tops,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
where sparkling
brooks meander</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
along verdant
forest crops.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
This is a place of
immense serenity</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
interrupted only
by faint chimes of cattle bell,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
an ecstatic heaven
born out of</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
invisible forces
working its enchanting spell.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
Rustling leaves
play melodious tunes</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
as dancing breeze
on them caress,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
a perfect therapy
for mortals</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
beset with
societal distress.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
Cross breathtaking
Phobjikha vales,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
away from hamlets
far-flung,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
greet lasses
shying away with timid smile,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
We welcome you, to
Kheybeythang!</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: right;">
Karma Thukten</div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: right;">
24th of July, 2018</div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: right;">
Kheybeythang Nature
Study Center.</div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-89120450944990658842018-04-23T23:28:00.000-05:002018-04-23T23:28:09.620-05:00Damn Life!<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
There are a million ways humans could die of: let's start with the four elements of life- </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
1. Earth/soil: you could die being struck by a falling boulder, tremors, avalanche, being buried alive in a tunnel..<br />2. Water- inundation, tsunami, drowning, ...<br />3. Fire- torched by house caught in fire, molten metals, volcanic eruption, electrocution...<br />4. Wind- storm, cyclone, hurricane, being hit by CGI sheets air-borne</div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px;">
There are myriad of diseases-HIV, Rabies, Diabetes, NCDs, cancers...that claim human lives, unabated.<br />You could die of food choke, sudden cardiac arrest, slain by infuriated boyfriends, alcohol, nicotines, car accidents, commission of suicide, battery, massacre, carnage, suffocation during massive stampede of humans...</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
And of all those life taking predicaments you triumph over, you would certainly die of senile age-the ultimatum. By all angles, we, humans are bound to die...</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
It's us(humans) against fiery natural/artificial foes..we should stand united without killing eachother and devising alternatives to stay put and breathing, proliferating love while on Earth. Next time you plot against anyone, think twice of humanly struggles we are going through to remain alive..</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
.......Karma Thukten Rinpochhe comes with wild thoughts sometimes....</div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-2630353538222915122018-04-23T23:26:00.000-05:002018-04-23T23:26:21.061-05:00Who is the true employer? Drayang workers or the Drayang Owners?<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br />I know, this could be little sensitive but I thought it should be brought to the limelight deeming every day struggles these so called "Drayang staff" have to go through to accomplish their journey, people call life. After weary hours of dancing and consistently being shoved off when asked for money, what ever the collectibles, they have to offer 50% to the owners at the end of the month. Owners don't pay salary<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"> to the dancers, all they do is provide the young dancers the platform to perform. Some may argue that the owners take 50% off the bounty collected in lieu of business tax, rental charges, electric bills and hordes of other bills..which business entity doesn't pay up bills? considering exorbitant and unregulated prices of boozes and stuffs charged, I feel it's only fair to rev up percentile of bucks collected to the dancers who painstakingly earned or have separate allowances for the dancers from the side of owners besides 50% of "requests" gathered by the dancers. If I ain't blatantly blundered, I heard there's incorporation of "PF system" for employees in that kinda sector, is it defunct? with all these points, I come to my question of who the true employer is, owner who plunders certain percentages of monies collected? or the dancers who offers certain share of their earnings?</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Note: It is entirely my opinion empathizing our sisters working at the entertainment arena. I may not be cussed, please...<span class="_47e3 _5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;" title="tongue emoticon"><img alt="" class="img" height="16" role="presentation" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f9f/1/16/1f61b.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span aria-hidden="true" class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">:P</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-90214424520104961502017-03-29T00:03:00.000-05:002017-03-29T00:03:08.543-05:00The way My Bhutan should be- Through my visionQuite frankly, I don't follow much of Bhutanese news owing to the nature of duty I perform. You can say I am a Conservation Researcher in a way.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Recently, I have been thinking hard on how restrictive our Bhutanese laws are with public being continually imposed with tyrannical sorta rules. Can we ever be free to express our innermost desires, live the way we always wanted to?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Bhutan has been flaunting her pride on how well managed the country's laws are: Business entities including bars, discotheques and entertainment centres are made to close on time and it is ensured that the boycotted products are on constant scrutiny.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We love it the way public revere those regulations and the way government claims to prioritize public sector development amongst other developmental goals.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My topic of discussion is mostly centred on timing of business centre closure. More than often, I forget to buy certain stuff and the time when I actually remember I find the shops closed. Why don't we have shops that remain open till morning all through the night? In other countries, they have cities that never sleep.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Why does our government restrict shop owners from keeping their business up and running till late night? Is this private sector development priority? Well, leave it to shop owners if they want to sleep and relax.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Instead of juxtaposing upsurge of crime and business centers not closing on time, why don't we invest on better surveillance and beefing up of security services in the country?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I read through statements made by some important people on how the number of entertainment centers and meat shops have augmented in the holy town of Bumthang in the recent times, a plausible remark, indeed! but i am kinda wondering how this should affect the community?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Let's say Bumthang has a population of 500 and 4 entertainment centres. 300 men continually visit those night clubs. Then hypothetically it would be 75 men visiting each of those 5 night clubs.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now say, a man establishes fifth night club. Then it would be the same 300 men visiting those facilities but with wider range of visiting options this time (60 men in each 5 night clubs). An additional night club won't draw visitors all the way from Thimphu or nearby towns but the same regular visitors. On the contrary, there would be more employment to destitute teenagers vying for means to support their family.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How would it look if there's a way we could go to a shop and get our stuff at any given time in case we forgot to enlist it in our shopping memo earlier??</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's time we rethink on those restrictive provisions.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Note: It's just my opinion and I love my Bhutan, no matter what.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-56898835824525373382015-09-07T04:15:00.001-05:002015-09-07T04:15:27.564-05:00I Searched for you<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 18.6666660308838px;"><b>I Searched for you.....</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">…among the boisterous
crowd,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Yelled your name aloud,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Plodded along the
sparkling brooks,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Combed all the odd nooks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Looked even in a
mole-hole,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Fiddled with numbers to
give you a call,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Looked for you in the garbage
pit,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">And in a murky room
candle-lit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Spared not, even a trash
bin,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Probed inside shredded pods
of bean,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Hunted every room of
office,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Isn’t it you among Langurs
on tree canopies?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I searched for you inside
ice-crammed water pipe,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Searched for you on Facebook
and Skype,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Interrogated all brunettes
and blondes,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I turned all the goddamn
stones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I dived in all the bone
chilling rivers,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Hoping to find you among
the beavers,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Sauntered along with the
foxes,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Opened and tore all the
carton boxes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Where are you, my girl?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Exhausted! I am beginning
to fall,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Not fair, come on give me
a clue,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Tearing earthly rifts i
shall reach you !!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Karma Thukten<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">8<sup>th</sup> January,
2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-61436861206329495202015-09-07T04:12:00.004-05:002015-09-07T04:12:18.584-05:00For Teacher’s Day<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oblivion is a murky passage, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
impeded by trancing rut, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You risk a lone walk </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and allay your cognitive gut.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Teachers are fiery
flames, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Illuminating that
dark passage, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9W61DBeulD2xsV9PWWZ3j620OuhSh2BxJUEDoN0tu-n1syL6TqRY67ab5sjRnBwN4LUgCniGPnklDQ7Y-pc4DPS0GVs1D8cq_ilXCaYFrmpXexytTqGSh4M3I6vMG1ehWJSpp1hQW9kI/s1600/agree.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9W61DBeulD2xsV9PWWZ3j620OuhSh2BxJUEDoN0tu-n1syL6TqRY67ab5sjRnBwN4LUgCniGPnklDQ7Y-pc4DPS0GVs1D8cq_ilXCaYFrmpXexytTqGSh4M3I6vMG1ehWJSpp1hQW9kI/s1600/agree.gif" /></a>the helm of infallible wisdom, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
under your feet I offer my reverent pledge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You ushered rays of brilliance</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
into my ignorantly tainted soul</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
pacifying my urge for wisdom</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
you made me whole.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
May 2<sup>nd</sup> is a historic milestone,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For me to laudably say,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear teacher, my Mentor</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ Joyful Teacher’s Day”. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-14550050893117827192012-09-27T05:01:00.005-05:002015-09-07T03:33:25.245-05:00IRKSOME NEIGHBORG
ray Toyota-Hilux truck drove along the bumpy farm road that bifurcated from the highway, closely followed by fumes of dust and pitch dark smokes, rumbling with distasteful clatter and halted with an abrupt jerk in our neighborhood.
A bald man in his late thirties jostled his way through the truck gazing at the apartment he had rented recently.<br />
<br />
He wore a sweater tinted with a mosaic of tiny purple flowers and letters that looked more like graffiti than mere adornment, and Blue Jeans that went pretty well with white pair of sneakers. He was followed by a maid and a fair lady, his wife (or sister?) who was constantly throwing tantrums on him. It was much to expect, newly moved in couple quarrelling over petty issues in the neighborhood. They were followed by consignments they had brought along with them, sofa sets, tables carved with exotic woods, finely varnished chairs, TV set and other comfy amenities.<br />
<br />
That night, boisterous moment amid newly moved in couple nearly woke up half the neighborhood. They were quarrelling: one could hear crashing of bottles, ceramic plates and mugs, loud din and noisy two-way mutter in a dimly lit interior at the moment when people get used to hearing whining and shrill howl of nocturnal wolves and foxes lurking about the premises.
“Damn it!” my cousin complained as he changed his sides on the bed, “they have begun too early”, looking at his watch with partially opened eyes and soon began to snore.<br />
<br />
Fortnight elapsed in Tokhaphuville, newly moved in neighbor kept people at arm’s length not even bothering to exchange greetings. Most of the times the husband would be found with infuriated grimaces, he talked less save for the complaint that the place’s festooned with hell lot of rats, of assorted sizes and colors that found no other jobs than to nibble up his exorbitant articles. His wife kept herself indoors, I wonder if other neighbors saw her for once.
Late night quarrels were usual phenomena in their house after they put up in the neighborhood of Tokhaphuville.<br />
<br />
The neighbors walked office agitated and their inability to sleep the previous night formed the topic of discussion every morning since the novice entered the neighborhood. None knew him to furnish any details if one were asked for except that the couples were irksome and kept on fighting the entire night, making their home a wrestling arena.
He mowed his little lawn, painted fence posts with lime and erected a huge signboard at the entrance of the gate that read:<br />
<br />
<b>YOU ARE ENTERING A RESTRICTED ZONE </b><br />
<b>WE LOVE OUR PRIVACY </b><br />
<b> YOU ARE NOT WELCOME!!!</b><br />
<br />
Everyone respected the signboard and none seemed to have the audacity to trespass his premises. We were good the way it was, to be at a safer distance from the weirdoes and, him, from us. He was an intolerable cynic and a sadist!!!
It was Saturday evening; the dusk crept at a snail’s pace and the little town of Tokhaphu lay adorned with brilliantly lit lamps with smokes issuing from the chimneys that left faint trails as it rose aloft.<br />
<br />
Everything seemed perfect that particular moment, when, as usual but this time, little bit violent, the distraught new neighbors quarreled.
“I will kill you! There’s limit to tolerance and you surpassed that thin line”, the man yelled
“Kill her before we wake up half the neighborhood”, the wife joined in.
The dialogue was followed by clanging and breaking of household stuffs, assault and resistance interpolated by brief silence and loud noise that would have awoken even a deaf duffer or perhaps dead.
The people assembled under colossal oak tree with faintly lit lanterns whispering and muttering about the commotion in the neighbor’s house.
Someone from the crowd suggested, “Let’s call the cops before we witness cold-blooded murder in our vicinity”, and began to punch 112 when an elderly man interrupted, “it’s no use calling the cops, by the time cops arrive, he and his wife would have murdered the maid, it’s an open and precarious conspiracy of murder we are dealing with. Let’s break in their house and save the maid”.
“What is with this man? Is he on parole? For how long are we to face this sorta predicament?” someone muttered wrathfully.<br />
<br />
The crowd, more like a mob stampeded toward the “No Entry” zone, flung the gate wide open and entered in like pack of horses galloping to a finish line in a race.
Inside the house, commotion and quarrels seemed to have unabated. Glasses broke, TV crashed on the floor, tables and chair dislodged and loud bang of someone’s head being battered by a club was heard.
“I will get you, bitch. Just wait and see. Let me get a rock to crush your damn head”, the man inside yelled and pushed the door open to fetch a sizable rock to crush the maid’s head.<br />
<br />
As the man heaved the rock and tried entering inside, the crowd caught him by the arms entreating, “Please, simmer down. You are unto a heinous crime that would lead you nowhere than behind the bars. Let’s sit down and talk”.
“What the hell are you talking about?” the man asked quizzically baffled by the crowd outside his porch standing like deserted animals seeking shelter from the downpour under thatched roof of a ramshackle hut.
“Why are you so pissed off anyway?” the elderly man asked as he placed his hand on his shoulder to pacify him.
“I have spent sleepless nights by her notoriety.<br />
<br />
By virtue of her, half the neighborhood lay awake as I heard them speak behind me. I have had enough and I am gonna smash her head and dance upon her corpse”, the man retorted maliciously.
“You don’t wanna be committing the crime. Take pity on the maid and spare her valuable life and you save yourself from redemption. Isn’t it even?” the crowd protested.
“Maid? What the heck are you talking about? Let me go or she evades, hold me not for I got to do this work at any cost”.<br />
<br />
But the crowd clung to him firmly advising him not to do anything he was upto…
“Leave me for this is the perfect opportunity I was waiting for since I moved in here. She will escape…she will”, he writhed trying hard to get out from the hold of the crowd when suddenly, a fat rat leapt out of the door followed by his wife with a broom stick, “There she goes…” the man muttered resentfully.<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten
27th of September,2012<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-32996252955647520762012-09-03T23:44:00.001-05:002015-09-07T03:30:21.992-05:00LATE NIGHT VISITORI
drew the shades of my 2 feet window apart trying to lend my ears to the patter of rain that was playing pleasant tunes in my ear one wintry night. Thick droplets of rain were battering the ground, excavating lumps of loosely embedded earth out. Attired in my night gown, I placed my coffee cup on the window sill to let drown few rain drops that struck my window pane. It was murky outside with the stars and heavenly bodies snoozing in the veil of the night. I think it was 9 pm when my cell phone rang.<br />
<br />
I picked up my phone…
‘’Hello?”
“ Oi, Chenga here. How are you? In Bumthang, right?”
“ Oi, how did you remember me? Yea, I am in Bumthang and am good. What about you?”
“I am good too. I am planning a trip to Mongar so thought like, I could halt at your place, enroute. It’s been long since we last met. Together we can hit the bar and spend some time there. What do you say?”
“Splendid! When are you coming? I stay near Bhutan Telecom colony, you can call me when you get here” I responded excited by the thought of finally having a real friend with me and going to the bar, grabbing frozen beers and drinking into oblivion.<br />
<br />
He told me he would come the next day with his uncle driving the car. The same uncle who hitched me ride home in his red car, BP-2-2222 printed in bold on its number plate.
Yawning with want of sleep, I curled myself up in my woolen blanket and I slept off. I woke up early in the morning, drew the curtains apart and looked outside,it was snowing: white flakes of snow fell from above like fluffy cottons ubiquitously heaping on barren land and atop verdant shrubs that grew rampantly all around.
<br />
<br />
The day went on with me lazing about in the room for it was Saturday and office was off. I was waiting for my friend who would have started off in the morning and would halt in Trongsa. I feared the snow accumulated along Yotongla pass would deter traffic movement the other day when he was expected to be here, with me to paint the day with joyful smiles.
Much coveted Sunday came too slow. The day was looking majestic; the snow shone bright giving off dazzling reflections to pedestrians who paced to and fro plodding in thick snow wearing knee heighted welling tons and clad in warm clothes..<br />
<br />
The day crept unnoticed and it was noon, my alter ego showed no sign of arrival. I tried calling but couldn’t connect for he must have been in a network scanty area. The dusk came, gulfing exquisite town of Bumthang and soon it was dark. I dozed off several times waiting…waiting…seated motionless on the chair.<br />
<br />
Giving up my hope of seeing my friend, I dined and headed for the bed groping in the dark for the erratic electricity had gone off. I think it was 11 at night when I heard engine of a car rumbling in the courtyard, halted with a jerk, door slammed shut and footsteps approached near the threshold. I was keenly listening to the footsteps. The man stopped near the door, paused for a minute and then rang the door bell.<br />
<br />
I stood near the door with a candle dimly lit, “Who is it?” I asked in a rigid tone to sound brave when I was actually trembling through my bones. There wasn’t any response for wee seconds and then heard him say “Karma, open the door. It’s Chenga”.
I opened the door with a relief “Thank god! It’s you. I thought it was some ghosts lurking around my house. Where is your uncle?”
“He stayed in his brothers’ place in the market. I drove the car here.<br />
<br />
He wants me to pick him up tomorrow morning”, he said whisking off snowflakes that got on his jacket.
“How come? You told me that you didn’t know how to drive. One may not have learnt to drive in a single day”. I asked glaring at him
“I lied to you. I know how to drive, come and let’s talk on the bed, I am dead exhausted”, he said walking to my bedroom.
“What about the supper? Sure, you would be ravenous and tired by virtue of the journey”.
“No, we had dinner on the way. I am full.<br />
<br />
I got to catch some sleep, would you mind?” he responded getting on the bed.
It was chilly even aboard so sleeping sounded great thing that moment. He turned aside trying to sleep when I felt like talking to him for we had met after a long time.
“Come-on Chenga, tell me how your journey was or else tell me a tale”, I pleaded.
“I think the latter sounds tempting. Let me tell you a tale, a true incident that happened a year ago”, he continued, “It was during the fall when a friend of a man died when his car skidded down the road.<br />
<br />
The ghost of that man visited his friend at night who was unaware of the mishap. They conversed the whole night and slept. Early morning when his friend awoke, the visitor was nowhere, thinking he had gone to toilet, he checked but found the door latched. He searched the whole house but found no trace of his friend, the door was bolted so he didn’t definitely go out. It was until next morning he was wary of his friends’ demise. The man died of shock the following day”.
“Why do you sound like you are narrating the tale of you being dead and visiting me like the person in the tale?” I joked to pretend I was not at all afraid after his scary story which really ate my innards.
“You and your craps. Let me sleep now and get yourself some sleep”, he bid me good night and slept.
I was feeling drowsy that night like never before so I deemed sleeping the best thing to do. I rolled myself up adhering close to him for warmth but found that his torso was dead cold, may be the chilly weather bit him hard.<br />
<br />
As usual, I woke up the other morning by the crow of my neighbors’ cock. I wiped my eyes clean, stretched for sometime and as the thought of waking my friend came, I found my friend missing. He must have woken up early so as to pick up his uncle, I thought. I rose up to check the door but found it firmly bolted from inside just the way I left the other night.
Shocked, I drew the curtains to peek outside to see if his car still lay in the courtyard but found it absent as well. Finding it hard to believe I sat on the chair marveling, when my eyes fell on Saturdays’ Newspaper: On the front page was the photo of what was left of a wrecked red car, with the heading “Car topples off the road near Dochula, killing all four aboard”…I pushed the paper aside and as I stood up to leave, my glance fell on the Number plate of the wrecked car…BP-2-2222<br />
<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten
4th of September, 2012
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-6171318318551737652012-09-03T01:17:00.002-05:002015-09-07T03:34:39.897-05:00VISIT OF APPARITION AFTER A YEAR OF GRANNY’S DEMISEIt was a weary climb uphill to my hamlet. The path led through scrubs of thorny boughs overhanging undulating route that abutted against barley field on both sides with copiously grown red crowns nearing harvest. The scorching sun tanned me brick red as I walked staggering forth perspiring all the while, when I heard an abrupt commotion in the field. I could hear women wailing and chanting of Mantra that swept through barleys right to me. Having my inquisition tickled and to unearth the bizarre situation, I swerved through the barbed wire fence fighting my way through barleys impeding my way and straight ahead headed for the source of commotion.
I descended down a bit taking a detour around a stupa sending curls of colloidal smokes that faded beyond the horizon.<br />
<br />
<br />
From a distance of score meters or so I could see group of folks stampeding toward the scene and some flocked around a woman, trying to allay her pain who lay there whimpering and wriggling like an earthworm in a scorching sunlight. I jostled my way through, flicking my dark hair behind my ear and zeroing my sight on the poor lady dusted by the earth she rolled upon. Oh! Isn’t she my mother? Her countenance, she looks like her, yes! She was my mother. My father had slipped his fumbling arms around her neck gently stroking her gazing at the crowd and to my mother out of confusion. Brox, our dog was sitting on his haunches, barking in the void facing away from the crowd. They were guarding the field in a temporarily constructed shed.
Terrified, I squatted near my parents gasping air hard, “what happened to her, dad”, I asked my weepy father, stiff wrinkles on his forehead faltering as he breathed hard drawing air that rumbled through his nose.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I think spirit has gotten inside her, it will be fine. We have summoned saint from the monastery, he would be on his way”.
My mother moaned, and giving us all a surprise glance she asked, “ Could I get a cup of tea, please? I am really thirsty for I haven’t drunken a sip of it in ages, please, please”, she pleaded now and then. My father drew thermos flask from the basket, took out a cup from his *hemchu, wiped it clean with his sleeves and poured tea in it and offered to her who gulped hungrily through her gullet. I think she took four.
Then, she began, “I feel immensely solaced to be finally at home and having my thirst quenched, it makes me euphoric. Where are my children? I want to meet and hug them; it’s been almost a year since I last saw them”. The boisterous crowds were whispering, “it’s the spirit of my grandma who succumbed to prolonged ailment of malignant gastric cancer at Thimphu JDWNR Hospital in 2008”.<br />
<br />
My father’s calloused palm clutched my mom as she (the spirit) spoke, “I detest the supervisor who lets us toil hard. In the morning he takes us atop to three-peaked mountains ( Ri sum tse ) and makes us descend down to the confluence of three rivers (Chu sum Dhue) in the evening. The iron boot we are provided with wears off in a single day. Neither are we bestowed with food nor with a drop of water. The wife of my son maltreats my daughter Ngawang who I left with them after my demise. I saw her beat and push my daughter with unbearable tantrums that could deafen ones’ ear. When I stood infront of your door, you all ignored my presence and did not respond to me when all I wanted to know was to assure you all were happy”.<br />
<br />
<br />
My grand ma’s sister who was amongst the crowd asked my mom (the spirit), “Do you meet our brother in law, your husband in the world you live in?” My grandma’s husband died a year in his senile age before my granny passed away. “No, he was a pious man while on earth. He must have been born somewhere unlike us who by virtue of sin commission is left astray to find our own route suffering all the while. Ask them to come here, my friends are watching me”, my granny pleaded pointing her index finger, to the utter amazement of the crowd who stood quizzically puzzled.
I learnt that our deity who resides in everyone’s house do not allow alien spirits beyond the threshold of the house where they didn’t belong, that’s why the other spirits were standing outside in a spot where my granny was pointing her index finger .
“ I know I am dead and with the weight of sin clung on to me, I cannot find my way out than to undergo atonement. While on earth, you have to earn good merits, help those destitute vagrants who extend their arms on streets, love animals and all sentient beings. Life is but one big test, a test to check your honesty, altruism, philanthropy and the good in you. I have to go now, take good care of my children”.<br />
<br />
Soon as she finished saying it, my mom gave a shriek of pain, muted for half a minute and resurrected into herself.
Glaring at the crowd bearing shocking visage, she was like, “why are you looking at me? Has anything happened to me?” she rose up, wiped clean the dust from her dress by few gentle taps and headed home like a small kid, without even looking back for once.
This is a true story narrated to me by my fiancé who after repeated petition decided to get rid of my pestering queries by telling me those tales. To preserve the veracity of the tale, I have written the story putting myself in her boot. The story changed my life; I know now what is there in those worlds after one passes away. If you hear faint chime of bells emanating out of my house and alight quaint monkish attire I wear, don’t get surprised...I have gotten into praying….<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten
3rd of September, 2012
<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-43283249771181543202012-03-05T01:20:00.002-06:002012-03-05T01:20:53.876-06:00NOMADS-THE GALLANT ARMIES ALONG THE BORDER<b>GALLANT NOMADS-THE ARMIES ALONG THE BORDER<br />
<br />
In bright raiment of black and red,<br />
Hail! Every single nomad,<br />
Ones, who prop our pride tall<br />
To this festive carnival.<br />
<br />
Enclose our untainted love and respect,<br />
Shoved safe, deep in your pocket,<br />
O! mighty warriors of the Himalaya,<br />
Disseminate it all across, Merak to Laya.<br />
<br />
Fatigued by arduous wintry toil,<br />
Tilling the earth of our Bhutanese soil,<br />
And of all torments, I shan’t mention<br />
To ward off all alien intrusion.<br />
<br />
Plugged in a pot-hole, like a welded iron blade<br />
To curb trickling water evade,<br />
Unarmed in unison you all stand<br />
To protect our Bhutanese land !<br />
<br />
Highland cultures and traditions you preserve,<br />
Immense reverence from us you deserve,<br />
Bhutan flaunts of your age-long lore<br />
With incessant air of vanity galore !<br />
<br />
Come, let us celebrate, I got an idea<br />
To mark this day with utmost euphoria,<br />
Let’s fill our glasses to the hilt<br />
And gobble it to astounding mores you have built !<br />
<br />
While living along exquisite border tinted with beauty<br />
Lost in your strenuous labor, your daily duty<br />
Keeping our country’s foes barred,<br />
Mind you, you’re not ignored but remembered !<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
3rd February, 2012<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
Forest Officer<br />
Wangchuck Centennial Park, Bumthang<br />
For 3rd Annual Nomadic Festival, 23rd-25th February, 2012<br />
</b><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-73712688197176362442011-07-14T05:11:00.001-05:002011-07-14T05:15:05.722-05:00MAN IN THE MIRROR<b>MAN IN THE MIRROR<br />
<br />
I once looked in the mirror,<br />
Exquisite frame studded with gold,<br />
Last time I saw, I was twenty four,<br />
Now, I am 60 years old.<br />
<br />
A worn-out languid figure<br />
Gazed back at me,<br />
Shriveled face with no vigour,<br />
I was dubious of his identity.<br />
<br />
Who was it in the mirror?<br />
Frail, senile and ugly,<br />
Then, to my utter horror,<br />
His familiar countenance told me, it was me.<br />
<br />
The figure stared at me contemptuously,<br />
“You are hideous goon unlike your other peers,<br />
Estranged from your own affable family,<br />
Now, for you, there’s none to shed tears”.<br />
<br />
“For money, you stooped low,<br />
Aloof from the family you had been,<br />
That you didn’t even know<br />
Your son had turned eighteen”.<br />
<br />
I retort, “I have wealth,<br />
On nutritious food, I feed,<br />
Great physique and good health,<br />
Isn’t it all an old man need?”<br />
<br />
“Can wealth buy love you robbed of family?<br />
Or trade with your erstwhile youth?<br />
Can it afford laughter of glee?<br />
Or replace your fallen tooth?”<br />
<br />
Queer figure continued, “Life is a playful park<br />
To be with your family, to fill the gap,<br />
Waking together in the morn, retreating in the dark,<br />
To see your kid take his first baby-step”.<br />
<br />
I with much plight realize then,<br />
Children eschewed me, so did my wife,<br />
Having all treasures and monetary gain,<br />
Yet, I had lost so much in life!<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
13th July, 2011<br />
</b><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-35117405337859062532011-07-01T04:48:00.002-05:002023-09-11T00:48:59.546-05:00THE BIRTH OF A CURSED PRINCE<b>BIRTH OF A CURSED PRINCE<br />
<br />
6th May, 1986 was special,<br />
It was a historic milestone,<br />
With eccentric ways the nature celebrated<br />
The birth of a Royal son.<br />
<br />
Heaven drizzled tears of delectation<br />
Filling up earthly crevices and rut<br />
Footing to the tunes of patter,<br />
Hail! The lineage of Royal blood.<br />
<br />
Birds chirped and dandelions swarm aloft,<br />
Fun galore for youths and teens,<br />
Earth was never ‘ere blessed<br />
With the birth of a majestic prince.<br />
<br />
Folks flaunted of their age long lore,<br />
Wine in a glass filled to the hilt,<br />
Hopeful citizens sang praises <br />
Congregating from near and far afield.<br />
<br />
<br />
Every nooks of the county were lit<br />
By dazzling luminescent beams of fiery flame,<br />
O! This was the day citizens were waiting for,<br />
A venerable prince, the kingdom’s helm.<br />
<br />
There was joyance on the ground,<br />
There was ecstasy in the mist<br />
Along the bonfires did the folks dance<br />
Merrily they drank and merrily they kissed.<br />
<br />
In the heaven, there was a feast<br />
On that very occasion,<br />
Angels, fairies and god<br />
Commemorated the day the prince was born.<br />
<br />
White bearded God made a toast,<br />
“To the success of our long dreamt dream,<br />
To the prince we sent beneath,<br />
Finally, from the heaven, we got rid of him!”<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
1st of July, 2011<br />
</b><div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-19749718719646832722011-06-26T07:27:00.001-05:002011-06-30T14:25:30.481-05:00FACELESS ANGELFACELESS ANGEL<br />
<br />
Into the untainted cloudless skies<br />
With brimful teary eyes,<br />
Gazing through the wide flung door,<br />
Whom was she sobbing for?<br />
<br />
Her face in the veil of night,<br />
Whose beauty the darkness did blight,<br />
Cheeks smeared by thick teary stain,<br />
She was so beautiful even then.<br />
<br />
Flowers pinned into her plaited hair<br />
Drooping in the tear drenched air,<br />
Her face nestled on her elbow,<br />
Was she waiting for her beau?<br />
<br />
Peering at the abandoned road<br />
Over the fields of barley and oat,<br />
She hid her face in her palms<br />
with tears fretting soft fleshes of her arms.<br />
<br />
Wall in muted shades of red<br />
Had a photo of a youthful lad,<br />
Encased in a dexterous hand-made frame,<br />
“My love Karma”, his name?<br />
<br />
The glossy lips of an unknown hue<br />
like a leaf blade gently caressed by the dew,<br />
Oh! It glistened in the dark<br />
Like a dungeon lit by a lightning spark.<br />
<br />
Would he come for her?<br />
Or is he stuck in the murky woods afar?<br />
Or by the guiding star misled?<br />
Fighting mists in the dark, dead?<br />
<br />
Or the songs she kissed in the wind<br />
Shall bestow him the hint,<br />
The pure love she had kept,<br />
Died waiting at the spot where she wept?<br />
.<br />
<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
26th of June, 2011<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-25768118387898305162010-12-06T08:07:00.001-06:002010-12-06T08:07:57.426-06:00NIGHT OF HORRORClatter of thunder,<br />
Incessant, unabated downpour,<br />
In the dark I was<br />
In partial stupor.<br />
<br />
Vision obscure…<br />
Smokes billowing in the graveyard<br />
A wrinkled bloody hand<br />
Crept up through the earth.<br />
<br />
Cross rose high,<br />
Tilted and fell apart,<br />
Earth loosened and sank in<br />
As the hand pushed up hard.<br />
<br />
Squealing wind ferried<br />
The dead souls’ pine<br />
Throwing chills along<br />
The spine of mine.<br />
<br />
Dead rose from the coffin<br />
With hollow chest or a shattered knee,<br />
Lifeless warriors of war<br />
Stampeded towards me.<br />
<br />
Nauseating stench in the air,<br />
Eerily silent it got,<br />
Save for the frothy saliva<br />
Gushing through my throat.<br />
<br />
Body bathed in cold sweats,<br />
Heart palpitated fast,<br />
Few minutes more<br />
And I won’t last!<br />
<br />
Solitary and dead terrified,<br />
I had every reason <br />
To turn off, then,<br />
The wretched television.<br />
<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
25th November, 2010<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-83686630411447268732010-11-09T00:47:00.001-06:002010-11-09T00:47:27.638-06:00NEW HOSTEL, INDIRA GANDHI NATIONAL FOREST ACADEMY, DEHRADUN-MY ROOM # B-1Towards the mess, take a slight left turn,<br />
You will see a room, in the face of sun,<br />
Precisely, you get this direction,<br />
Then you stand at the door of room # B-1<br />
<br />
Still, you got that confusion<br />
To spot out my room # B-1,<br />
Perhaps then, you may want a small hint,<br />
Simple, ideally follow the course of wind.<br />
<br />
GPS, maps and compass you need not<br />
Or laud praises in the name of lord<br />
To get to my room, no haste and don’t run<br />
For the room is conspicuous, room # B-1.<br />
<br />
Before the room stands Pterocarpus, a massive tree,<br />
A small garden with flowers that sway free,<br />
Dull looking door with none to adorn<br />
Has the room # B-1.<br />
<br />
And if, of your instincts, you’re sure<br />
Give a knock or gentle tap on the door,<br />
Smiling, busy, worn-out or with a yawn<br />
But, you will be welcomed in room # B-1.<br />
<br />
Through the window, drawn with brown curtain,<br />
You have the panoramic view of distant mountain,<br />
Birds, amazing creatures and of seasonal flowers you learn<br />
in this room, room # B-1.<br />
<br />
Have hot steaming tea, feel at home<br />
For whoever has come,<br />
Spent few minutes here and did return<br />
Always covets to be back here, room # B-1.<br />
<br />
I did enjoy and I had fun,<br />
Reminiscences of works well done!<br />
And of a thing I shall warn,<br />
Once here, twice you’ll be, room # B-1<br />
<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
09th of November, 2010<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6975757374019498272.post-79559384111471215402010-11-05T10:12:00.001-05:002015-09-07T03:35:06.593-05:00AN EPISTLEA LETTER FROM MY YOUNGER SISTER<br />
<br />
I<br />
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. <br />
<br />
‘Tap…tap’, someone knocked, I shrugged woolen blanket from my warmly wrapped body aside and stood up to see who it was. <br />
<br />
Drenched in the rain, hairs muddled into messy strands and with an agitated face stood our college messenger in a bowing posture, <br />
<br />
“Sir, I got a letter for you” and shoved his fumbling hand into his hemchu*and took out a crumbled envelope, bearing my name, <br />
<br />
‘‘To,<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
Sherubtse College- Kanglung’’<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
“Any idea, who sent this letter to me?”<br />
“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”. <br />
<br />
“ 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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
I tore open the envelope assuring the page inside intact and sent my inquisitive glances over the words written.<br />
<br />
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:<br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I can’t say how happy I was that moment but can certainly bet I was the happiest of all, that very moment.<br />
<br />
<br />
Karma Thukten<br />
4th of November, 2010<br />
<br />
*Hemchu is a pocket made by a Bhutanese male gown<div class="blogger-post-footer">THANK YOU FOR READING MY THOUGHTS</div>Kar10http://www.blogger.com/profile/04169704672216983366noreply@blogger.com0