Of Late.

I have heard about a turmoil among Haap Dhoros on Facebook. I guess it was about someone 'shooting mouth'  and other one not being able to accommodate with it. I don't know who is right and who is more right, but I think both are  equally right in their own terms. All I wish is that Haap settle their own storm in the cup before it slips above the brim. I think there is no need for middle man here!  

And yesterday, on Facebook again, I had to stop my discussion on becoming a vegetarian, when a guy named Donkey started making fun about the discussion. I wanted to discuss more about veg and he wanted to divert my attention by discussing about sex and pork. So before any middle man could come between us, I quietly removed him from my list and we were done. 

My dad wanted me to become teacher in my life. Fortunately or unfortunately, I couldn't become one. In fact I ended up becoming someone I was not made for; a Customs Officer!. Not being able to see his son live his dream must have pained his heart. But of late, I have got this strange feeling. 'I wanted to become a teacher in my life'. -As if to say that I want to live my father's dream.

It sounds strange because there are many people who are dying not to become one. My wife, who is a teacher, says that, people regard teacher no less than a donkey. Therefore, she doesn't fancy me becoming one. But I feel my urge to become one so intense. 

I have nearly put up a decade in Customs already. Now I wish I could become teacher someday and spend my another decade there. If possible, I also wish to become.....uummmm.....aheeemmmmm.. dasho after that! wait, Did I say Dasho? If not I would want to retire peacefully to become a monk. I wish to work for the benefit of innocent sentient beings who, according to Buddhist philosophy, say, they were once my parents, my siblings, my kids and my friends

Hey folks, I have exam tomorrow. So I better stop day dreaming and get going with my studies. Wish me lots of luck.

Have a nice day!

Strange Feelings

Of late, I have been busy both with my books and Facebook. Books, because I have exams to write starting 19th May and Facebook, because I am a very social person. I know many will join me when I say that 'exam days are never a pleasing moments.' I dislike the very idea from the core. Therefore, I often ask myself as to whether these things called 'exams' are really that necessary in ones life?

But the reality is real! Exams are like salt that adds taste to our life. Without exams, today it wouldn't have been possible for me to say that I have B.Com honors degree from Kanglung. I am not blowing my own triumphant but it was through exams that I could proclaim as an RCSC select graduate.

It is indeed through exams that I got my job. I am already making a humble living!  But the exam thing is yet to stop in my life. Like a greedy person in pursuit of knowledge, I am still drenching and slogging with books!. Some say, Economics is not a subject for average Tom and Dick, but here I am, trying to bite more than what I can actually chew.

In a years time from now, I would be finally done with my Masters programme. I would be saying good bye to the University that groomed me intellectually and would be rejoining my friends and family once again. These things gives me enough reason to smile and be happy about.

But there are other things that I worry about. I worry about my next transfer! Of late, I came to the knowledge that my Department even conducts exams to decide our next transfer place. I was told that the exams were conducted to ensure that the only brainy and browny gets a chance to serve in head office!. This is surely a work of genius mind and as a loyal service man, I cannot question the credibility of such a creative procedure. So long it is workable, i think its cool idea.

Random Ramblings

Picture courtesy: Facebook

Apparently, I was mad when University declared our initial exam dates. As per the schedule, we are suppose to have exams every day starting from 18th May till 24th May!. This meant, we have less time for our last-minute preparation.  It  enraged 'last minute-freaks'. But that thing was not to last. Students started protesting by visiting Controllers office and without much fuss, the exams dates are being rescheduled. Now we will be having exams every alternative days starting 19th May. 

Thanks to rescheduled exam dates, I am now able to blog about how busy I have been those few days. Obviously I was exceedingly busy with my exam preparation. I slept with my books and got up in mess. I drank coffee like addict and peed like horse. Under stressful hours, I often shouted like lunatic. I watched 'Friends' and laughed like mad.  

Besides, I have also an interesting story about a friend who wouldn't mind putting his pillow under his butt but wouldn't allow others to do the same. As a Bhutanese, I am of the opinion that pillow (or hang) is strictly for head and mattress (dhen) for butt, but he still wants to stay tall with is his unreasonable logic. To get at him I asked him a very logic less question in return; -"Do you use your underwear as cap?"

We are four friends who share a flat. By virtue of living next to the toilet, I often end up being the miserable most of the time. In our recent past, it was about someone peeing from the door. But of late its been about someone not using water while shitting! I have to shut the door because I have Buddha's picture hung in my room. 

I enjoy facebooking and the the reasons are innumerable. Apart from meeting friends and strangers alike, I like the idea of facebooking because it gives me lot of courage and guts. Through facebook, I can chat nonstop with anyone. I can even yell at my MP!, vent out my frustrations and get consoled.....and many more....But mind you I am a very faithful husband and dedicated father. Honestly, I salute the creators of facebook. I wish I could write exam on facebooking as well!

By the way, I have exams starting 19th May. So wish me lots of luck. If I again top my class, then expect a treat from me.

Good night folks.

For My Mother on Mothers' day

My Mother then and now

Hi Mom, 

There are not many words with which I can thank you enough. But on this special occasion of Worlds mother day, I would like to thank you for all the tears you have shed, all the pleasures you have forgone and all the pains you have overcome in bringing me thus far. Mom, you are sincerely and wholeheartedly endeared. You are loved from the core of my heart. 

It is visible that the age has taken away the luminosity off your visage, but you are still my shining star. Your innocent toothless smiles have always done the magic of brightening up my mundane life. Thank you millions  for being my loving mother.

Mom, you are rare. 

Mom, I love you more

and Mom, I can die for you.

Happy Mothers day to all the mothers in the world. 

She Wants to Become Miss Bhutan!

Sonam Dechen Thinley

'I failed to win the fashion contest in my school but I believe I can become Miss Bhutan some day'. -says my second daughter. She wasn't happy for the fact that someone in plain track suit won the contest.

The way she consoled herself made me wordless. I have known her to be only a crying machine and nagging freak. But in three years time, she have changed by many folds. 

Happy Teachers Day!

Picture courtesy: Google

I wish all my Teachers a very very happy Teacher's day.

May god bless you with good health and Happiness.

With this, I would like to remember all my teachers', Both living and dead for all the goodness they have done in transforming me. From a rough village lad, I have truly come a long way in my life. Credit goes to all my teachers. In celebrating my happy life; -everyday, I celebrate the love and kindness of my teachers. You are all remembered from the bottom of my heart! Thank you all millions.

May god bless all Teachers.

Long live Teachers.

Why May Day is Our Day

I don’t know why, but when I first stepped into my manhood, getting married was the last thing on my mind. But on a very fateful day, on 1st May 2005, irony was to happen. The last thing on my mind became the first thing to happen in my life. -I got married to my dearest wife. 

We did not exchange rings nor did we say ‘I do’ to each other. No Lamas, no astrologers, no parties, no gifts but our wedding was unique and romantic in our own sense. In our magical moment, spurred by the spontaneity and over flow of powerful feelings, we tied our knots never to be untied. Together we cheerfully made our lifelong commitments, - to be together, till eternity! 

Since then, we have been together through all thick and thin. We had good times and few bad times. But we always emerged and prevailed. So far, our life has been anything but a match made for ourselves. 

Today marks our 7th anniversary. It also means that we have crossed that ‘itching seven years’. It brings me lot of joy to reflect and recollect our bygone days. Except few ‘itchy incidents’, I am less hesitant in submitting that we had lion’s share of good times together. We may not have prospered materialistically, but the way we raised 3 little angels in 7 years time has been the subject of envy for many people.


Well, folks Wish us good luck and happier days.

How I Survived the Corporal Days

Picture courtesy: My Colleague Tashi Namgay's facebook page

Naughty, vibrant and full of mischief, I started my schooling some twenty five years ago. It was upon my father’s incessant persuasion that I finally agreed his idea of my education. Being illiterate man himself, it appeared to me that my father understood the value and importance of education lot more than any other person in our neighborhood. It was his humble wish, that I should someday become, well, not dasho but a teacher.

But unfortunately, I later discovered that schools weren't  the bed of roses for mischief and over-zealous lad of my likes. The over sized headmaster with big and bulging eyes, who spoke of flowery things from his doma-reddened mouth on my admission day soon turned out to be the tyrant of my life. As the days progressed, to my astonishing youthful realization, I discovered that in school, teachers meant business.

They taught me things from the syllabus. Along with it came the box that swung from left to right. They kicked on my bony buttock, slapped on my rosy check and lashed my weak calf and fragile fleshy palm. Sometimes they quoted their reasons but most often, they did it for apparently no rhyme and reason. They called it an art of disciplining and transforming rough village lad to refined human being.

But, the fact of the matter was, their way of disciplining made my life miserable. I felt like a piglet in  the boots. Therefore, as much as I hated them, that much I feared them too. Their overwhelming presence was felt far beyond school fence into my village alley where I once acted like king (among dogs, cats, cocks and lambs). It made me think twice before I beat up my neighbor. It made me more hesitant to lay ambush for the seniors who oppressed me. I underwent an impulsive transformation. From a person who threw lamb size stones and stilled a running sheep, I was soon reduced to a frightened boy because of my teachers.

So to say, I survived the most corporal schooling days in our history. Of many such incidents, there are few instances that I still remember as though it happened yesterday.  It lingers in my heart and head afresh  all the time.

It was once in 1987, that I fought with my peer over who should lead the line for dinner. Surely, that did little to please our headmaster. He pulled me out of line and then began his lashing. I vividly remember the a bamboo bow used. By the time 2 cooks came for my rescue, the bow was all broken into pieces and dinner was served. As I limped  into dormitory, empty stomach, I thought he broke my ribs and limbs. But to my good fortune, I survived.

Then it was once in 1988. Dinner time again. I was  never taught to say Buddhist version of grace before our food. All I did was learn it by heart after listening to our seniors. So in the process, I got most of the words and meanings wrong. As a young boy knowing meaning was unimportant. What was important was how loudly you say the grace.  Then there was one line that I said  it wrong with my voice at its max. Here it is: ཡེ་ཤེས་དཔག་ཡས་ཚེ་ཡི་མཆོག་སྩོལ་མ།། But in place of མཆོག་སྩོལ་མ། I said "Chok torma". It was gross translation of the holy text, but little did I realize then. "Chok Torma meant "shit like stick". Once again I was pulled back from the line. With an overwhelming sense of fear, I waited for the school captain to fetch teacher-on-duty a stick. Luckily, school captain did not bring a bow that time. He instead got a bundle of slender willow shoots with their leaves removed. Then the Teacher-on-duty took the liberty of whipping me left and right. He stopped when his hands ached and couldn't proceed further. When I refused to cry even after countless lashings, he labelled me as 'Paw'. -loosely meaning, 'tough boy'.

The next incident that I remember with exact precision is a 'Shouting case'. Yes, we were once shouting on top of our voice when we saw a herd of wild boar wrecking the potato field that belong to a local farmer. Many of us were involved so we were given a 'mass punishment'. In a bright sunny day, we were all made to hold our ears and then stand on our knees with sharp gravel underneath for an hour (for 2 periods). Unfortunately, I happened to be the only tiny boy in the group!

Then there is one incident, that still haunts me day and night like devil. This incident has a reference to the same Headmaster, who used bow on me. That time it was not bow, but a cable wire with rods removed!! He picked on me, when my marble-playing companion complained about me bullying him. I saw my Headmaster go mad beyond measure. he pulled me to a room. After he put my head between his thighs I became like a helpless goat tied for sacrifice. He whipped me  incessantly and I could sense the damage cable wire was doing on my soft buttock. Surely, when he released me, I could see blood clotting every where, starting from buttock to calf.

Later it turned out into wounds and took ages to heal. With whipped-wounds everywhere on my body, I refused even to be bathed by my loving mom on weekends. When my Mom finally saw what was on my body, she cried bitterly. Soon my three sisters joined her. I was treated with grand Egg maru that day.




To conclude this post, I wish all my teachers, -past and present, living and dead a very happy teachers day.

One Year in Gujarat.

I decided to pursue my tertiary education in an age, where every average Pema and Dema eyes those exotic universities in Australia and Europe as the ultimate education destinations. Every Prospective Bhutanese student dreams about it, because there is a general believe among many Bhutanese that one can mint a lot of money and in course of two years. I don't know how but many believe they can build their empire. As it stands, this notion have taken deep root. For now it seems most people are more after "money making" than real education.

I don't know which one I chose, 'education' or the 'money making' but under the auspices of GoI scholarship, I happened to be one among six Bhutanese who landed in Gujarat in the fall of 2011 to pursue my tertiary education. Forgoing all those fortune making opportunities, I chose; -well, in words of few people, a slum somewhere in India as my education destination. 

Prior to my departure, I remember attending a briefing session. We were not even twenty, so it was a small insignificant number not deserving of a grand briefing session with meals and banquet. But nevertheless, we were briefed by one Dasho, who  almost took half the session briefing us about GNH. At the end, we were given a book about Bhutan. I liked it so much. The pictures in the books says volumes about Bhutan.  We were also given a small national flag which in the words of Dasho ‘would remind us about our home-sweet-home'

I reached Gujarat in good health, but felt lost and nervous.

However I am now nearing to complete my first year here and I have lot to reflect and recount on. From a fan less room to a water less bathroom, from a bed less bedroom to a table less study room. It was all but an adventurous going. In those adventurous mood, I thought to my self that even without those basic  necessities in my room,  it would be so wrong to consider my place as a slum. So the very first realization I had was that, I did not land in a Slum to pursue my Masters course.

But on the other note, it turned out to be the most painful days of my life, not because living condition was horrible, but because I missed my home more. Even tough I was given the apartment fit for 'Readers', it took me many agonizing months to settle. But with each passing day, I came to agree with the terms of living a life away from my loved ones. More, when I started making friends with Gujarati fellas, I started appreciating life away from home.

Diversity in Gujarat took me to higher level of understanding humanity. Starting from a Autowalla, who charged fares not by judging the meter but by looking at the faces of commuters to a retailer and a vendor who charged prices not on the basis of weight but on the basis of bargaining power. From Homeshop18.com to flipkart.com who delivered books at my door step. From 'Times of India' to 'Ahmedabad Mirror', the papers I subscribed but did not read. From 'pani puri' to KFC, that drained my wallet, From 'Lal darwaza' to 'Jamalpur darwaza' where I squeezed-in in the street to get the best possible secondhand books. From Vestrapur to Gandhinagar, from Kankaria lake to Sambarmati river. From Gandhi Arshram to Gir Foundation. From CG road to MG road. From ISCON mall to Alphaone mall. From Hyper city to Shoppers stop. On goes the list and on goes the insight I have gained.

My association with friends, both Bhutanese and Indian have further enhanced my understanding of human behavior. I feel truly privileged to have come to a place far way from home to learn about the complexities of human values and Morales. I am astounded to learn that human beings are truly a surprise package. I saw that in the gullibility of  a  man, promises of a gentleman, frailty of a women, Beauty of a being faithful and on goes the list. In the midst of all, I have also learned that that how a hollow man really sounds like an empty vessel while the honest browny man remains undeterred and unmoved like a everlasting mountain.

I wouldn't say that in one year time, I have transformed myself from a Caterpillar to a butterfly. But I wouldn't deny the intellectual richness I gained by coming to Gujarat. I feel blessed to have associated with some of the most learned people in Gujarat. All my professors have showered unending love and support from the day one to which I humbly remain indebted. It is here that I further expanded my horizon of knowledge.

Gujarat, indeed has become my home-away-from Home. For now I am truly enjoying the enchanting biodiversity and ecosystem that surrounds me.  Even though the tropical heat is little uncooperative for a man from cold Himalayas, I think, for now I am reasonably well adapted.

Graze Like Hungry Yak.

Ever since the day my family sold off our yaks, I felt a great sense of loss. We let our dad's most prized possession, which took so many decades to accumulate, go in a wink. I was helpless like my dad. All I could do was blame the forces of change. After so many years of close association, it pains my heart to even think of those beautiful animals gone forever from our lives. To me, this feelings indeed indicate how much indebted I feel towards those animals.

But today I am not going to write about yaks. Today, I will not even let the topic of yaks overwhelm me for a second with emotions. It’s about the most coveted saying that I am going to write.

“Graze like a hungry yak".  It actually means work hard.

Although I never fully understood the sublime meaning of the coveted saying, I did my best to interpret it in my own ways.  For a worker, it literally means working like a shaving blade, not  leaving any hair standing. For a student, it meant running through pages of the text and trying to get everything, either through understanding or through mugging. There were days in my distant past, where my friends would even memorize the registration number of a truck in the picture in our text books! Such was the way we grazed then.

Grazing like yak was not at all fun. Sometimes it was killing and boring. But like it or not, there was no other options. Everyone in life has to pass through this and I was no exception. I too did my grazing-like-yak part. So to say, I grazed like a yak even when I was really not in the mood.  But now, I  think I got this far in life for having grazed like a hungry yak.

Not only that, As I plan to move further in my life, I see grazing like a yak has lot more meaning than I saw in my earlier days. As I graze in the endless pasture, I make sure that I graze to the best. But when I look back, it awes me only to find the grass behind has grown lot taller and that it needs further re-grazing.

I am No More Brokpa

Like many of my contemporaries from Shingkhar, I grew up being called as Brokpa. Roughly translating it to English, it means nomad, yak herder or highlander. True to that name tag, we lived in highland and depended on yaks for our livelihood. We loved those animals and we cherished our moments with them. But there was something, that I still couldn't agree with when people referred to me as Brokpa. I simply hated it.

I used to hate it even when people called me 'Brokpa' with lots of love and affection. I disagreed and defended my stand. It may sound one and the same thing but to anyone who called me "Brokpa' I told them that 'all brokpas are highlanders but not all the highlanders are 'Brokpas'. But people still insisted that all yak herders are 'Brokpas'

I hated it more, when the caller was none other than my uncle. My uncle used to be a teacher, but in the field of nicknaming his students, he must have surely outdone many Rimpoches’. In fact it was my very own uncle who tagged me and my peers with that name. Since he was my (our) teacher, protesting against him was not a prospect, but internally, I always questioned him and told him that he (was) is more 'Brokpa' than all of us combined.

Now that my dad has sold off all the yaks, I can finally say that I am not brokpa anymore. But sadly with this, I now feel an aching sense of loss. It is a loss beyond my description. It is my exotic brokpa entity that I am now losing.

Once Upon a Time when I was that Boy in the Picture

When I was that little boy in the picture, I was care free, wild and naughty beyond words and description. I recall, even the most strict and corporal headmaster (of our time) had difficulty administering me.

But on the affirmative side, I feel happy to have been the most affectionate, diligent and obedient son. With my parents around, I felt responsible. I felt the need to work harder, do better in my studies and repay them later.

As I grew up, there were often days, in which I asked my dad as to what I should become in my life and to which, he always responded; -‘son, you should become teacher’. That was it! My dad had a dream and that dream was to see me become teacher someday.

Dad considered teachers as the noblest person and teaching, the noblest profession. Unlike other profession,  dad considered it as the most safest and secured profession.On the basis of knowledge they impart, they are considered as the source of light. Dad taught me how a teacher should be respected and that refuting against him (was) is a sin. I remember dad sharing Buddhist wisdom which says that ‘a person who dishonor ones teacher would be reborn as dog for five hundred generations!’Dad considered the roles teacher played, a sublime and beyond any beings. So, dad had all the reason in the world to make me become teacher. 

Here I am; a fully grown up man. I don’t know whether it (was) is my fortune or misfortune, but certainly I couldn’t become teacher as dreamed by my dad. Not being able to live up to his expectation still ache my heart. 

But, as if to compensate that loss, I got married to a teacher. Since she is my better half, she surely must have brought the much needed respite to dad's heart that longed too long for a teacher in me. Trust me, My wife has all the teacher materials in her. She has a remarkable patience in dealing with kids and she loves her job like she loves me!

But after the "UNICEF-expatriate-beating-up-teacher" incident, I have told my better half to be careful. But she took me by a surprise. She told me that, given a chance, she would want to resign completely from teaching. This was the last thing expected from a die hard teacher!

"what will you do after resigning?" I asked her softly. 

She answers; "I will be your parasite tey"  

"But not until I become Dasho darling"  "and ya....don't say your are my parasite, because you are my better half" I comforted her. 

I told her that after I become dasho, 'She would be considered as good woman behind a successful man' 

he he .lol...that was the biggest chicken count ever, before even knowing where the eggs are going to come from.

"But we have 3 daughters, do you honestly think you can feed and clothe us all" comes her other query

"Why not, that makes just four of you" I defended 

"How?" comes her another question

"you know, there are dashos who handle more than 4 aums, so handling my 3 kids and my wife should not be a big deal". I defended further  

"You know what". I continued

"What?". comes her response.

"Once I become Dasho, I can avail all the ex-country training between the earth and the sky".

"I can even avail training that are meant for my peons". I continued.

With that little conversation, I told her to be cautious. I told her not to keep everything for law because law is blind.  Lastly, I told her that if she requires a weapon for self defense, I might get her a rambo knife from Jaigon.


(Very Important Note: I am not propagating violence here, I am talking about self defense)

As reported By Kuensel

A village, once synonymous with this domestic animal, now bids farewell to the last of them (and hails a new breed)

Sonamla with a milking yak

Shingkhar, Ura, Bumthang: The practice of herding yaks may soon come to an end in the Shingkhar valley of Ura, Bumthang, with the last herd of yak in the village waiting for their new owner to lift them.

The last herd, surviving in Shingkhar that belongs to Sonamla, 75, will be grazing in highland of Sephu in Wangduephodrang.

He sold them to a herder there.

Shingkhar was a village known for its strong culture of yak herding, and their livelihood mainly depended on dairy products from the yaks.

But ever since the road reached the valley in the mid 1990s, Shingkhar started potato farming and dependence on yaks for a source of livelihood reduced.

Shingkhar’s vast and lush pastureland is a visitor’s delight, and an ideal place to rear livestock.

Over a hundred acres of green pastureland surround Shingkhar village, showcasing its serenity and livestock culture.

This factor was the main reason for the community’s vehement protest against the proposal to use parts of the pastureland for a golf course.

Although the last herd of Shingkhar’s yaks is to leave, of late, the pastureland has been housing a new herd.

Over 100 tsedar yaks (yaks saved from being slaughtered), were released to graze on the land in Shingkhar. Sonamla, 75, who has lived with yaks since his youth, believes it was some kind of a sign.

All these years he did not give in to his children’s persistent persuasion to sell yaks and give up yak hearding for a more comfortable life.

“We can’t convince him, because his yaks are a part of him and herding them part of his life,” one of his sons Kuenzang said.

Sonamla, however, had to give in to his old age.

“My beloved yaks helped me raise my children, who have all grown up and are educated,” he said.

His legs began failing him from trudging uphill to higher altitudes in summers and bringing them back in winters.

Besides, he experienced a trauma attack following a fire that burned their yak herd makeshift last year in January that killed 14 of his yak calves.

Eve since, for about a year, his 35-year old daughter, Tshering Dema, has been taking care of the yaks, alongside her chores at home, and tending to her three children and her ailing father.

“While yaks in summer should be taken to a higher altitude that requires days of walking, I only managed a few hours further from the village last summer,” she said. “I have no one at home to look after my parents and children.”

Tshering Dema said the family did not want to sell the yaks. But it was growing difficult to tend to them.

Besides the tsedar yaks only aggravated the problem, because they had to herd the additional yaks, since there was no one to look after them.

Tshering Dema said the tsedar yaks posed problems to the existing herd during the breeding season, and rearing them for a lone woman was a major problem.

“These yaks are on tsedar and there is no proper caretaker,” she said. “I had to suggest my father that we sell our herd and he said that I call the shots.”

The number of households owning yaks in Ura has been declining every year since a decade ago.

In 2006, farmers of Ura’s four villages out of six reared yaks.

By 2007, yaks in Ura Madrong, the biggest village, disappeared.

Somthang villagers sold all their yaks in 2009.

Until mid-2011 Shingkhar had two households, including Sonamla’s, that still kept yaks.

When Sonamla’s yaks leave Ura valley this year, a lone villager in Pangkhar will be the last to rear yaks.

Records with livestock extension officer in Ura, Phub Thinley, show that of 250 yaks in 2007 in the valley it dropped to 223 in 2008 and 207 in 2009.

In 2010, it fell to 180 and to 100 last year; most of them sold to herders of Sephu in Wangduephodrang.

He said, Sonamla had about 45 yaks, which once gone some time this year will leave the valley with only about 55 yaks.

Of the 40 households in Shingkhar, about 10 reared yaks.

Almost all households owned about four to five yaks, which they kept with households that owned more yaks.

“Like many age-old customs of livelihood, this one too has become obsolete,” a farmer Sonam said. “With education and the pace with which the country is developing, our children will not want to do this.”

Meanwhile, Sonamla and his daughter awaits the buyer from Sephu to take away their 45 yaks, of which 15 are milking ones that graze on the green pastures of Shingkhar.

By Samten Yeshi

This song is very soothing

སློབ་དཔོན་འཕགས་པ་རྗེས་བཙུན་འཇམ་དབྱངས་ཀྱིས།།

ལྷ་དང་ལྷ་མིན་འཐབ་རྩོད་གཞི་ཐབས་ལུ།།

ཚིག་དངས་སྙན་པའི་གླུ་གཞས་རྟེནས་བྲེལ་ཚུ།།

ཐུགས་རྕེས་ཆེན་པའི་སྒོ་ལས་གསུངས་གནང་ཡོད།།

འདོད་དགུ་ལོངསྤྱོད་འཛོམ་པའི་ལྷ་ཡུལ་ནང་།།

མཐུན་བྲེལ་ཆོས་མཐུན་སྟོད་པའི་གླུ་གཞས་ཚུ།།

འགོ་ཐོག་ལྷ་ཡུལ་ལུངས་ལས་སྤེལ་གནང་ཏི།།

འཇིག་རྟེན་མི་ཡུལ་ལུངས་པ་དར་དེ་ཡོད།།

སྨོན་ལྗོངས་ཙནྡན་བཀོད་པའི་དགའ་ཚལ་ནང་།།

ལྷ་ཆོས་ཨྱོན་པདྨ་འབྱུང་གནསའི་ལུངས།།

སྦས་མིས་འབྱིན་གྱི་རླབ་པའི་རྟེན་བྲེལ་ཚུ།།

ཐུགས་སྤྲོ་མགར་གྱི་མཆོད་དབྱངས་ཕུལ་ནི་ཡོད།།

ཆོས་སྲིད་གཉིས་ལྡན་འབྲུག་གི་རྒྱལ་ཁབ་ནང་།།

ཕ་མཆོག་དྲིན་ཅན་ངག་དབང་རྣམ་རྒྱལ་ལུངས།།

གཞུང་སྐྱོང་གཞི་བཙུགས་གནང་བའི་རྟེན་བྲེལ་བཟང་།།

ཕུན་གསུམ་ཚོགས་པའི་འགྲོ་མགར་འཆམ་ནི་ཡོད།།

དགའ་སྐྱིད་སྤྲོ་གསུམ་འཕེལ་བའི་གླུ་གཞས་ཚུ།།

སྲུང་ཞིག་སྒྲུབ་ནས་ལུངས་ཕྱོག་དགའ་སྟོན་དང་།།

ཕན་ཚུན་ཙ་སེར་དགའ་སྤྲོ་མཐུན་བྲེལ་ལུ།།

མངའ་འབངས་ཡོངས་ཀྱི་དགའ་སྤྲོ་གླུ་མགར་འཇུག།

This song is very soothing and I was told that it was composed by our His Holiness Jekhenpo. I am not sure who composed the tune, but i feel it is a work of  true genius. 

Originally sung by Mrs. Pema Lhamo and Mr. Pema Samdrup of  RAPA (Royal Academy of Performing Arts) it is by far the most touching song. The sense of humility in its presentation is far far uplifting and sensual. the song goes so well with our traditional musuc -Dramnyen

I am bad in English typing and worse in dzongkha typing. So please forgive me for all the typo errors and spelling mistakes I have made.

I Gave the Best and Left the Rest...

                                                       G u j a r a t   U n i v e r s i t y                      

Exam.:Sem. 1 of  4                       Master of Arts    held in December-2011

Seat No. :   1709                       Name: THINLEY KUENZANG                    

----------------------------------------  -----------------  ----------------- 

                                           External           Internal     

College: (020) USS         Centre: 01  Combination:           - 1-1600000      

Subjects                                    Max Min  Obt       Max Min  Obt   

Economics-402 Macro Economics-I             70  25   50        30  11   23     

Economics-401 Micro Economics-I             70  25   53        30  11   27     

Economics-403 Public Economics-I            70  25   44        30  11   25     

Economics-404 International Economics-I     70  25   56        30  11   22     

Economics-405 Growth and Development-I      70  25   51        30  11   25      

Economics-406 Environmental Economics-I     70  25   59        30  11   25     

---------------------------------------  -----------------  ----------------- 

                                           420  --  313       180  --  147     

Enrol.No.: 201101900349                   Total: 460 /  600  Result:PASS       

Result Date: 02-APR-2012             

Although I will be sitting for my second sem internal exams very shortly, with little over 76.66 aggregate marks in my first semester exams, it appears to me that I am officially through to my second semester.

Having worked so hard, I expected good harvest in terms of marks. But more than the marks, what surprised me was that I topped my class. Not only that, I happened to be among the top 50 candidates in the overall University ranking  for Masters of Arts category. (I stood 19th) 

Apart from my hard work, I feel this is my reward for all the sacrifices I have made. I had a horrible life staying away from my family. It was utterly difficult leaving behind my daughters. I missed them terribly. Of course, I missed my dearest wife along with them. 

It was even more harder thing, leaving behind my sick and ever ailing dad. Since, he never wanted me away from him, it was my dad whom I miserably missed.

Today, I dedicate my little success to everyone I missed (back home). This is for you all from me, with lots of love and affection. 

With this, I would like to thank my professors who took extra care in getting things across to me and my friends for all their valuable support and encouragements. I would like to Thank my senior  friend Sonam for all the supports he  rendered wholeheartedly to me.With his support and presence around, my late admission to the course wasn't a hindrance. I was fairly able to catch up with my friends. 

Lastly, I thank my protective Yeedham, Meme Ragula for all his blessings. Meme Ragula Khenoo

My Dad in The News.

As Reported By Kuensel, Bhutan's National News Paper. 

༉ བུམ་ཐང་རྫོང་ཁག་ ཨུ་ར་ཤིང་མཁར་གྱི་ གཡུས་ཚན་དེ་ སྔོན་དང་ཕུ་ལས་ར་ ལ་ནོར་ལུ་ འཚོ་བ་བརྟེན་སྡོད་མི་ཨིནམ་ལས་ ས་གནས་ཀྱི་ མི་སེར་ཚུ་ རང་མགོ་རང་འདྲོངས་སྦེ་ སྡོད་མི་ཅིག་ཨིན་རུང་ རྒྱལ་ཁབ་གོང་འཕེལ་འགྱོ་མི་ལུ་བརྟེན་ ལུང་གཤོང་དེ་ནང་ གཡག་གསོ་སྐྱོང་ལམ་སྲོལ་དེ་ མར་ཉམས་འགྱོ་དོ་ཡོདཔ་ཨིན་པས།

དེ་ཡང་ འདས་པའི་ལོ་ངོ་བཅུ་ཕྲག་༡ དེ་ཅིག་ལས་འགོ་བཙུགས་ ཨུ་རའི་མི་ཚུ་གིས་ གཡག་རུ་ཁག་སྦེ་ དབང་འདུས་ཕོ་བྲང་རྫོང་ཁག་ ཀློང་སྟོད་དང་ ཀློང་སྨད་ཀྱི་ འབྱོགཔ་ཚུ་ལུ་ བཙོང་ཡོདཔ་ལས་ ཧེ་མ་ གཡག་ལེ་ཤ་ཡོད་མི་ ཁྱིམ་གུང་༢༠ དེ་ཅིག་ཡོད་རུང་ ད་རེས་ནངས་པ་ ཤིང་མཁར་ལུ་ གཡག་རུ་ཁག་སྦེ་ གསོ་སྐྱོང་འཐབ་མི་ ཁྱིམ་གུང་༡ མ་གཏོགས་མེདཔ་ཨིན་པས།

ཕ་བརྒྱུད་བུ་བརྒྱུད་སྦེ་ ལ་ནོར་འཚོ་སྐྱོང་འཐབ་མི་ ཨཔ་བསོད་ནམས་ཀྱིས་ ཁོ་རའི་བུ་དང་ བུམོ་ཚུ་གིས་ གཡག་ཚུ་བཙོང་དགོཔ་སྦེ་སླབ་རུང་ དང་ཕུའི་ལམ་སྲོལ་ལུ་ གཞི་འཛིན་འབད་དེ་ ཉན་མ་བཏུབ་ཨིན་པས།

ཁོ་གི་བུ་ ཀུན་བཟང་གིས་ སླབ་མིའི་ནང་ ཁོང་ཨ་ལུ་ཚུ་ག་ར་ སྦོམ་ཐལ་ཡོདཔ་མ་ཚད་ ལ་ལུ་ཤེས་ཡོན་སྦྱང་ཚར་ཏེ་ ལཱ་གཡོག་ནང་ཡོདཔ་ལས་ ལོ་དང་ན་ཚོད་རྒས་པའི་ ནམ་དུས་ལུ་ ལ་ཁ་ལས་ཕར་ ལ་ནོར་འཚོ་སྟེ་ སྡོད་དགོཔ་མིན་འདུག་ཟེར་མནོ་སྟེ་ ཨ་པ་ལུ་ གཡག་ཚུ་བཙོང་སྦེ་ ཁོང་ཨ་ལུ་ཚུ་དང་གཅིག་ཁར་ སྐྱིད་ཏོང་ཏོ་སྦེ་ སྡོད་ད་ཟེར་ ག་དེམ་ཅིག་སླབ་རུང་ཉན་མ་བཏུབ་ཟེར་ཨིན་པས།

སྐྱེས་ལོ་ ༧༥ ལང་མི་ ཨཔ་བསོད་ནམས་ཀྱིས་ ཁོ་གི་མི་ཚེ་ ལ་ནོར་དང་གཅིག་ཁར་སྐྱོང་སྟེ་ ལོ་ངོ་༌མང༌རབ་ཅིག་ སོང་ཡོདཔ་ལས་ གཡག་མེད་པར་ རྩ་ལས་ར་ སེམས་ཆགས་མི་ཚུགས་ཟེར་སླབ་སྟེ་ བཙོང་མ་བཏུབ་ཨིན་པས།

ཨིན་རུང་ ད་རེས་ནངས་པ་ ཨཔ་བསོད་ནམས་དེ་ གཡག་ཚུ་ལུ་ བརྩེ་གདུང་དང་ ཞེན་ཆགས་ཀྱིས་ གཞན་ལུ་བཙོང་ནི་དེ་ སེམས་ཀྱིས་བཟོད་མ་ཚུགས་རུང་ ལོ་ན་རྒས་པའི་སྟབས་ཀྱིས་ ལ་ཁ་ལས་ཕར་ ལ་ནོར་ཚུ་ འཚོ་སྐྱོང་འཐབ་ནི་དང་ བལྟ་ནི་ལུ་ གཟུགས་ཀྱི་ལྕོགས་གྲུབ་མེད་མི་ལུ་བརྟེན་ ཁོ་གི་གཡག་དང་འབྱིམོ་ མཛོ་དང་མཛོ་མོ་ བསྡོམས་༥༠ དེ་ཅིག་ཡོད་མི་དེ་ བཙོང་དགོ་པའི་ གནས་སྟངས་ནང་ ལྷོད་ཡོདཔ་ཨིན་པས།

ཁོ་གི་ བུ་ཅིག་གིས་ སླབ་མིའི་ནང་ ཁོང་གི་གཡག་ཚུ་ གཞན་ཁར་བཙོང་ནི་དེ་ ཨ་པ་ལུ་ སེམས་ཀྱི་ན་ཟུག་སྦོམ་ཡོད་རུང་ ཐབས་ར་མིན་འདུག་ཟེར་ཨིནམ་ད་ མ་བཙོང་པར་བཞག་རུང་ འཕྲལ་ཁམས་ཅིག་ཁར་ ཤིང་མཁར་གྱི་ རྩྭ་ཐང་ནང་ གཡག་༡༠༠ དེ་ཅིག་ཚེ་ཐར་ བཏང་ཡོད་མི་ཚུ་ ལྟ་རྟོག་འབད་མི་ག་ཡང་མེད་པར་ ག་ལྷོད་སར་ བཏང་བཞག་ཡོད་མི་དེ་གིས་ དོ་འགྲན་སྦོམ་བྱུང་སྟེ་ཡོད་ཟེར་ཨིན་པས།

ཨཔ་བསོད་ནམས་ཀྱིས་ གཡག་ཉོ་མི་ཅིག་ ད་ལྟོ་ འཚོལ་བའི་བསྒང་ཡོདཔ་ད་ ཁོ་གི་ གཡག་ཚུ་ བཙོང་ཚུགས་པ་ཅིན་ ཤིང་མཁར་གྱི་ རྩྭ་འབྲོག་དེ་ནང་ རྩྭ་བཟའ་མི་ ཚེ་ཐར་བཏང་མི་ གཡག་ཚུ་ཡོད་རུང་ ཤིང་མཁར་ལུ་ གཡག་གསོ་སྐྱོང་འཐབ་སྟེ་ ཐོན་སྐྱེད་འབད་མི་ག་ཡང་མི་འོང་ནི་ཨིན་པས།

ད་ལྟོ་ དཔལ་འབྱོར་རིག་པའི་ གཙུག་ལག་ཤེས་ཡོན་སྦྱང་པའི་བསྒང་ཨིན་མི་ ཀུན་བཟང་གིས་ སླབ་མིའི་ནང་ ཨ་པ་གིས་ གཡག་བཙོང་མ་བཏུབ་པར་ བཞག་མི་དེ་ཡང་ གཅིག་ལས་བལྟ་བ་ཅིན་ དོན་དག་སྦོམ་འདུག་ཟེར་ཨིནམ་ད་ དེ་ཡང་ཤིང་མཁར་གྱི་ རྩྭ་ཐང་དེ་ རྩེད་ཐང་ལུ་ བསྒྱུར་བཅོས་འབད་ནི་གི་ གྲོས་འཆར་བཀོད་མི་ ཐོན་ཡོད་རུང་ མི་མང་གིས་ སྒོ་ནོར་གྱི་དོན་ལུ་ རྩྭ་འབྲོག་སྦེ་ སྤྱོད་ནི་ཨིན་ཟེར་སླབ་སྟེ་ མ་བྱིན་པར་ སྲུང་སྐྱོབ་འབད་ཚུགས་ཡོདཔ་བཞིན་དུ་ དེ་ནང་ སྔར་སྲོལ་ལྟར་དུ་ ལ་ནོར་གསོ་སྐྱོང་འབད་མི་ ག་ཡང་མེདཔ་ལས་ ཁོ་གི་ ཨ་པ་གིས་ ཉམས་མ་བཅུག་པར་ བཞག་བཞགཔ་བཟུམ་ཅིག་འདུག་ཟེར་ཨིན་པས།

ཨིན་རུང་ ལ་ནོར་གྱི་ གསོ་སྐྱོང་ལམ་ལུགས་དེ་ ཉམས་འགྱོ་ནི་གི་ དུམ་ཁར་ལྷོད་ཡོདཔ་ལས་ འཕྲལ་མགྱོགས་ར་ ལོ་རྒྱུས་རྐྱངམ་གཅིག་ལུ་ འགྱུར་ནི་མས་ཟེར་ བཤདཔ་ཨིན་པའི་གནས་ཚུལ།

To All Shingkhar People

A Typical Pasture land for Yaks in Shingkhar 

Any one know why so many "tsedar yaks" have been brought to Shingkhar ? this is my personal concern to some extent general concern of all Shingkharpas. Its good that some people are getting involved in saving the lives of those innocent animals. But my question is that to what extent and how long? I am happy to know that so many innocent animals have found heaven in Shingkhar. But My concern is again to what end??? 

Not long ago we all, in union fought against a foreign idea of golf course in the name of conservation and preservation of Shinkgkhar's tradition. I think all of us stood firm and strong and won the battle in question. 

Now that we have so many influx of Tsedar yaks (more than 100 now and still more to come) Given a limited grazing area, Isn't this going to pose a serious threat to the survival of local livestock? Isn't this going to create over grazing in our limited pasture land? Isn't this going to degrade our limited pasture land in times to come? Isn't this going to hamper the productivity of our local livestock? Can we know the reason why those Tsogpas have chosen to transfer all those animals in Shingkhar alone? ?

It may be noble initiative saving lives of any beings but it doesn't mean it should come at the cost of some people's livelihood. 

Being a yak rearing family, my family is first in line who is affected. The huge number of wild yaks roaming in the common pasture land have created havoc and have made it very difficult for my dad and sister to look after our heard. As much as they are havoc they are found to be menace for the survival of our herd.

Now my dad is going to up yak rearing. Although there are various other reasons, this happens to be the prime reason. Tomorrow it it could be any one who will have to give up cattle rearing.

By the way, I am amazed to know that all Shingkharpas have become Buddhisatowas overnight.......

have a god day folks

Yak Nearing Extinction in Shingkhar

More than five years ago, I persuaded my father to sell off his most prized possessions. It consisted of little over 50 yaks, both males and females, milking as well as non-milking.  The reasons were simple and straight. Notwithstanding an adverse economic implication at home, I wanted my parents to come out from that nomadic life for once and for good. As an educated son with a decent job, honestly, I couldn’t bear to see my parents still toiling after beasts in the wilderness, -all round the season.

But I was surely not the first offspring to persuade him. In the past, many such attempts have been made by my elder siblings too, but none succeeded in influencing dad. Those radical advices and persuasions simply failed to lure or divert dad’s perspective.

Having survived the harshest possible life thus far, it was his notion that living his life, his way, on his terms was something that amused him more than anything else. As an ardent hard working farmer, laboring was something he cherished and so were his hardships with yaks in the high up mountains. To him it was just another season that would pass like any other ordinary days.

In all those long years, I thought my dad was right. I thought he has made an apt decision not to relinquish his possessions, because Shingkhar has been for ages, an ideal place for yak rearing and therefore his decision to continue the legacy of yak rearing was right by many folds.-He was right culturally. He was more right traditionally, ecologically and economically.

But with time and space even the fortitude as that of my dad’s is also subject to change. Change can neither be imposed nor can be forced. Such is the state of affair with my dad now. He now realizes that his ailing health is no longer energetic to answer the calls of the duty. He feels the crippling effect of old age. With no more options left, he is now on verge of becoming the last Shingkharpa to relinquish yaks for good.

His relinquishment would mean that yak is facing extinction in Shingkhar! the worst nightmare, long feared by my dad are soon becoming reality. While making that decision, My dad surely must have felt thousand steel hammers beating and tearing his heart apart.

My dad Milking yak

When the yaks are long gone from Shingkhar, 

I will remember them as follows:

I grew up with yaks, 

They are the animals that my dad loved 

Because they were source of our livelihood.

On my rare trips to his domicile, 

I remember myself being fed with butter 

That sized larger than the plate 

And a tea prepared not with water 

But with cent percent milk. 

In summers he would go lavish 

Sending me and my siblings 

A parcels of butter wrapped in etho-metho leaves 

And cheese in white sacks. 

I am 32 plus

My Birthday Cake

My birthdays used to be a very insignificant days. Let alone celebrating, I would not even remember it correctly. Unless I have a business to fill up my official forms, my birthdays would just remain there on the calendar and would pass like any other day without even being noticed. 

It went unheard and unnoticed, because I come from a place and a family, where birthday celebrations are not very widespread. The idea and the culture of celebrating birthday being relatively foreign, I have NO or very LESS incentive to get excited and elated on my –so called birthdays. 

But this years’ is a different story. With my friends from Ahmadabad, who value their birthdays over and above any other important days, it appeared thousand percent unlikely that my birthday would pass unnoticed this year. As we marched in to March month, I could finally sense my birthday excitement level growing within me as well. 

Finally on 13th March, it was my birthday. I called off a day from my college. It was self-declared holiday for me and my three friends. 

They took me to a place from where Gandhiji advocated doctrine of non violence. They gave me a gift which I had in my wishlist and a card that read, 

7 things for a Happy Birthday. 

7. HOPE that makes you believe and do the impossible 

6. DESIRE, that makes you want despite all odds 

5. PATIENCE, that never allows you to give up 

4. FAITH that makes you trust the calling of your heart 

3. TRUST, that makes you rely on your own unseen powers 

2. DETERMINATION, which keeps going in the journey of fulfillment 

1. UNDERSTANDING, that you have everything that makes a winner. 

I was overwhelmed by the plans and gifts my friends had for me. We lunched in one of the best restaurant and went for a movie which featured my favorite actress. It was by far the most memorable day of my life. I couldn’t thank my friends in words. 

When the dusk fell, we called off the day. That evening, I went to bed thinking, as to why my daughters are so much fond of celebrating their birthdays or attending others birthdays.

(I Would like to thank all my friends both near and far who wished me on facebook) 

A brief history of Tobacco

Tobacco Plant

The history of tobacco cultivation goes as far as 3000 years. (even Buddha was not born) The people in America grew the plant for various reasons.  They in fact cultivated the plant for medicinal purposes. It is also widely believed that people grew it to appease the spirit and heal the pain of a sick.  In 1492, Christopher Columbus discovered tobacco in Cuba and he later imported it to Europe for the first time. There the tobacco was simply used as an ornamental plant.

Later in 16^th Century it was declared as a “universal medicine” by Doctor Phillippe II.  Somewhere, during the reign of Louis the XIII, tobacco was consumed both as a medicine and was also smoked in pipes out of pleasure. Since then the smoking of the tobacco plant began which ignited many revolutions and evolutions in the human history.

It was in 7^th century, that a Buddhist saint Guru Rimpoche declared tobacco contrary to what Europeans and Americans did. -So called the “universal medicine” and  “Queen’s herb” was declared evil. This attracted many interpretations from the intellectuals far and near. To me, I firmly believe that Guru Rimpoche must have declared tobacco as an evil out his compassion because tobacco when excessively consumed caused Physical infirmaries which ultimately led to the loss of precious life. This loss brought unbearable sufferings not only to the souls of deceased  but also took away solace of those surviving and bereaved ones. Since Buddhism as a way of life (or as a religion) is based on compassion and kindness, anything that took away happiness was considered evil (dhue)

Long after Guru was gone, Zhabdrung enacted tobacco law in Bhutan, which became the first tobacco law (for the monastic body). If what Guru Rimpoche declared was a bill then it became law during Zhabdring’s time.  Bhutan for the first time must have had a tobacco control law until we had the recent law of 2010.