གཡོ་འགུལ་གྱི་སེམས།

༈ ནམ་མཁའི་སྐར་ཚོགས་འདྲ་བའི་ཐིམ་ཁྲོམ་ནང་།།
རང་སེམས་གཡོ་མེད་ཙོག་ཕུར་སྒྲིང་སྒྲིང་འདི།།
རྒྱ་བཟའ་བལ་བཟའི་བུ་མོ་གཞོནམ་ཚུ་གིས།།
རང་དབང་མེད་པ་ས་ལས་བཏོན་ད་ཡི།།

༈ རང་སེམས་རང་གི་དབང་ལུ་མེདཔ་ལས་བརྟེན།།
བེམ་པོའིི་ལུས་ལུ་རང་དབང་ག་ལས་འོང་།།
རྟག་བུ་ལམ་བསྒྱིམས་འགྱོ་མའི་མགུ་ཏོ་ཡང་།།
མོ་གཞོནམ་ག་ཏེ་འགྱོ་ས་མགུ་ཏོས་བསྒྱིར།།

༈ རྐངམ་གི་སྒོམ་པ་རྟག་བུ་ཕྲང་རུང་རང་།།
རྣམ་ཤེས་མེད་པའི་གཟུགས་ལུ་ཉན་ཁུག་མེད།།
མོ་གཞོནམ་ག་ཏེ་འགྱོ་ས་རྟིང་བདའ་སྟེ།།
ཚོང་དཔོན་མེད་པའི་བློ་གཅིག་བཙོང་ད་ཡི།།

༈ རྟག་བུ་བློ་ཚིག་དོན་ཡོད་བཤད་རུང་རང་།།
རང་དབང་མེད་པའི་ཁ་ཡང་བུམོ་གིས་ཁྱབ་།།
གླིང་བཞི་གླིང་ཕྲན་ག་ཏེ་འགྱོ་རུང་རང་།།
ཁ་ལས་ཐོན་ཚེ་མོ་གི་གཏམ་རང་མས།།

༈ མིག་གི་དབང་པོ་དུས་རྒྱུན་གསལ་མི་གིས།།
མཇལ་དགོ་མནོ་བའི་ལྷ་ཚོགས་ཚུ་གི་ཞལ།།
མིག་ཟུང་བརྒྱང་རུང་རང་གི་མཇལ་མ་ཚུགས།།
བུམོ་འདིན་མི་བལྟ་ཟེར་རུང་མཐོང་ཚུགས་པས།།

༈ རྣ་བའི་དབང་པོ་རི་དྭགས་བཟུམ་ཡོད་རུང་།།
ཆོས་བཤད་འདི་ཚུ་ཉན་ན་གོ་མ་ཚུགས།།
མ་དག་བུམོ་གཞོནམ་ཚུ་གི་ལོ་རྒྱུས་འདིན།།
རྣམ་ཅོ་ལགཔ་གིས་སྤུབས་རུང་གོ་འོང་མས།།

༈ དྲན་པ་སེམས་ཀྱི་སྙིང་པོ་བཀུག་སྟེ་གིས།།
སེམས་ལུ་བརྟག་ཞིབ་འབད་ཤེས་འབད་བའི་སྐབས།།
འཛམ་གླིང་འདི་ནང་ང་འདྲའི་སྐྱེས་པ་གཅིག།
ཡོད་ག་ཟེར་བའི་ཚིག་གཅིག་ཐོན་ནི་འདུག།

བཀའ་དྲིན་ཆེ།

སེམས་ཀྱི་བརྩེ་མིག་གི་མདའ།

སེམས་ཀྱི་བརྩེ་མིག་གི་མདའ།

གཟུགས་མཛེས་ཉ་གང་ཟླ་བའི་ཞལ་རས་ལུ།།
རྟ་བདུན་དབང་པོའི་འོད་ཟེར་ཕོག་པའི་ཚེ།།
སྲིད་གསུམ་ནང་གི་མཛེས་མ་ཀུན་འདུས་ཏེ།།
ཁྱོད་ལུ་འགྲན་ཟླ་འབད་ཚུགསན་ང་ལུ་གསུངས།།

སྤྱན་ནི་ནམ་མཁའི་སྐར་མ་འདྲ་བ་གིས།།
ལན་གཅིག་སྟག་ཤར་ག་ལུ་བལྟ་རུང་ཡང་།།
ལུས་ཀྱི་རྒྱལ་པོ་ནང་སེམས་ནོར་བུ་འདི།།
མ་བརྐུ་ཟེར་མི་ཡོད་ན་ང་ལུ་གསུངས།།

ལག་པའི་ཕྱག་རྒྱ་རྐང་པའི་བྲོ་གར་ཚུ།།
དྲི་ཟ་དང་ནི་ལྷ་མི་སུས་མཐོང་རུང་།།
ཁྱོད་ནི་སྒྱུ་རྩལ་མཁས་པ་ཨིན་མས་ཟེར།།
སེམས་ལུ་མ་ཤར་ཟེར་ན་ང་ལུ་གསུངས།།

གསུང་སྙན་ཁུ་བྱུག་དང་ནི་དྲི་ཟ་ཚུ།།
འཇིན་རྟེན་ནང་ལུ་སྙན་གྲགས་ཨིན་རུང་རང་།།
ཚིག་དོན་དབེན་པའི་སྟབས་ཀྱིས་ཁྱོད་སྐད་དང་།།
འགྲན་ཟླ་ཡོད་ཟེར་སླབ་ན་ང་ལུ་གསུངས།།

སྐུ་གཟུགས་རྩཱ་རིའི་སྨྱུག་མ་ལྡེམ་ལྡེམ་ལུ།།
རིས་མོ་ལེགས་པའི་དཀྱི་ར་རྒྱན་ཆ་ཚུ།།
ུབརྒྱན་ཏེ་རྣམ་འགྱུར་ལེན་གཅིག་བཏོན་ཙམ་གྱིས།།
ཕོ་རབ་དྲན་མེད་མ་གྱལན་ང་ལུ་གསུངས།།

མཛེས་མ་མཛེས་མ་ཟེར་བའི་མཛེས་ཚིག་འདི།
ཁྱོད་ལས་གཞན་ནི་སུ་ཡང་འོས་འབབ་མེད།།
ཁྱོད་མེདན་མཛེས་མ་ཟེར་བའི་མཛེས་ཚིག་འདི།།
འབྱུང་བའི་དཔེ་ཡོད་ཟེར་ན་ང་ལུ་གསུངས།།

གསུང་སྙན་གསུང་སྙན་ཟེར་བའི་སྙན་ཚིག་འདི།།
ཁྱོད་ལས་གཞན་ནི་སུ་ཡང་འོས་འབབ་མེད།།
ཁྱོད་མེདན་གསུང་སྙན་ཟེར་བའི་སྙན་ཚིག་འདི།།
འབྱུང་བའི་དཔེ་ཡོད་ཟེར་ན་ང་ལུ་གསུངས།།

ཁུ་བྱུག་སྐད་སྙན་ཟླ་བ་མཛེས་ལྡན་དང་།།
སྨྱུག་མ་གཟུགས་མཛེས་ཡོད་པའི་དཔེ་འདི་ཚུ།།
མི་གཞན་ཧ་གོའི་དོན་ལུ་འབྲི་ཡོད་རུང་།།
དངོས་སུ་ཁྱོད་ནི་ཁོང་ཚུའི་དཔེ་སྟོན་ཨིན།།

ཚད་མེད་བཞི་ཡི་ནང་ལུ་དགའ་བ་ཟེར།།
དགའ་བ་དངོས་སུ་མྱོང་བའི་དུས་སྐབས་འདི།།
མཛེས་མ་ཡིད་ཀྱི་དགའ་བའི་སྣང་བ་འདི།།
མེན་ནམ་ཟེར་བའི་ཐེ་ཚོམ་ཁོང་དུ་འཆར།།


འབྲི་མི་: ཚེ་རིང་ཕུན་ཚོགས།

The 5:AM Club Habbit

The 5:00AM Club

I am trying to install a new habbit in me that is 5:00 am club, I mean waking up at 5:00AM sharp, every single day.

The latest video by Robin Sharma says that, "it takes 66 days of practise to hardware in a new mental pathway known as a habbit" (It was the latest research done by University of London)

To me, waking up early is the hardest part that i have ever experinced, but now I am trying.

The quote "Change is hard at the  beginning, Messy in the middle, Gorgeous at the end" touched and chills every nerve and hormones in my body which perfectly answered, You Can Do It. I loved this positive answer.

A simple reason to why you should wake up at 5:00AM every day is while rest of the world is sleeping, you can do, what you wanted to do at that hour and you 'll be a step ahead of them. Just experience it.

(For more information, watch Robin Sharma's video on Youtube. )

                         

                       

A Widower

A Widower

Apa: The Widower whom I refer to

Sangay's father was lying near the corpse with an unrestrained tears. Sangay was petrified and the fear sends shiver down his spine. "A...A..Apa" He stuttered. Apa wasn't replying at all. The question of what has happened stirred up in his mind as he saw many people gathered in his home. He was astonished.

 Steadily, his family and the relatives huddled around them. By the time he saw the tears in the eyes of his relatives, he knew that the corpse that was covered with 'Khasha' behind his father was his demised mother.

Remembering the full moon face of her mother, the unwavering affection and the love that she has given, tears started to flow down his cheecks simultaneously.

The waves of nostalgia swept over him of his stay with an emanated 'God Tara' mother repeatedly, no matter what he does and think because he has loved his mother unconditionally.

Every one was mourning and from the back, his sister came making a squealed sobbing sound near him. It was a melancholic situation. 

Sangay has just entered into the door of adolescent and was in sixth grade. He has a younger brother who has just crossed his toddler stage who out of nowhere appeared near him and holded tightly from the back of Sangay's gho. "Ata, where is my Ama?" He questioned. Sangay didn't know what to answer. He rubbed his tears unoticeably. 

Uttering of word was difficult for him at that moment. His relatives were gazing at them. "Mother will arrive tommorrow, she has gone to bring a cycle as a present for you." Sangay stuttered. No sooner had his brother stood silent than he made a screwed face. 

"What was behind my Apa and why he was crying?" Again he questioned Sangay abruptly. It is always hard to answer and explain to a child.

Sangay did not answered, rather he embrace him, stroke and patted him on the back. Sangay was dying inside.

Death was natural and all will die one day is what all he knew. He has never seen practically until the death of his mother.

Monks, Gomchens and a Lam were there to commemorate the death. After few minutes, Sangay's mother, who was covered with white khasha was taken to the cremation ground.  They prayed, chanted 'Mani' and started moving from the cremation ground. Sangay's mother who has always stood behind him through thick and thin and shined like a pearl before has now turned into ashes. The situation broke him down into pieces.

After few years.

Time has healed everything and Sangay's feeling of melancholy about his mother has deminished. Amazingly, his father stood as a perfect immortal widower. All those situation made him to realize that, "the tapestry of life is difficult to design until you experience a mournful, melancholic, and remorseful situation." It always stung in his mind like a bees in summers day.

Thank you

Thimphu Gi Dro: The Taste of Thimphu

Thimphu Gi Dro: The Taste of Thimphu

I know Thimphu is a denizens of all kinds of people and they have their own unspoken problems. Similarly, as a young introvert degree holder graduate, from the ocean of suffering, a drop of it fall upon me that made me mentally disturbed.

PC: Google

I have no say over the people who have their own supportive family, brothers and sisters at Thimphu, but have a story to tell for those who does not have. I want to make them feel that they are not only the ones who is suffering.

After completion of my studies, I have to go to Thimphu to appear preliminery exam for which I have no option left then to stay at my cousin's home because I am financially weak to stay by myself paying a rent. The rent in Thimphu is beyound my comprehension.

Preparing some gifts like Kharang, Yuechum, butter and cheese, and some vegetables to the cousins, I left my village with 7000Nu. whom my parents gave it to me after their tiresome hardwork and indispensible hardships. It's hard for me to expect more and I never demand more and nag for insufficiency because I know the hardship to gain a single penny. Their hard earned money is like gold to me.

As I step into Thimphu city, the swarm welcome of noise and air pollution made me feel doomed and sweft nostalgia emerge that made me to miss my home desparately.

 After arriving at Thimphu, I took one taxi to reach me at Hejo. While in the drive, I was engrossed in the world of fear and hesitation. I get stuck with how to confront them. I fear, if there are some other guest. I fear that I may add blunder to their way of getting financially sound in the stars like town as most of the people living at Thimphu, money matters a lot. 'Money thunders in Thimphu'.

However, I made an audicious attempt to enter my cousins home. They welcomed me with a warm smile which lifted my heart high. I thought, first impression is the last impression and repayed them with some sweet intro about the conditions at my village. I also mentioned them about the well being of my family. Though I am not a gregarious person, like somebody says, 'I faked it to make it' that a I am not a silent person. Then I got some hot tea and a delicious dinner. I also offered all those gift that I brought from my home instantly after some talks. The next day I was given a hot tea in the morning and then offered a breakfast.  Similarly, they offered me a delicious food for one week but the guest name plate get changed after you stay couple of days. Their attitude purely reflects what kind of thoughts are runing in their mind. May be I am wrong!  As a humankind, I also don't feel like to stay like a guest because I am there to stay for more than two months to appear RCSE. Subsequently, when your money get dissapeared each day, heart gets groomed and painstakingly mind get tensed so much. I can't tell my parents to send money for this short peroid of time repeatedly and therefore, train of thoughts evolve in your mind.  On the other hand, how can I tell my cousin for money as they too are reluctant to give. I understand them because I would have felt the same in their shoes. 'Some people's conditions in Thimphu are worse'.

A gulf of hesitation develops internally because you have nothing to help them than to eat, wash dishes, and then sleep. Even if they say, "don't hesitate" in a polite way, you develop a inner feeling that will make you heard as if saying in a different tone that makes you feel more unattached to them.

As time passes by, you land up lingering without meals. You are lucky, if you have a friend who are financially sound because they help us and even offers you meals but those unlucky have to suffer with empty stomach. Ausssh!  And at cousins home, as they request you to eat, you hesitate and you will respond that you had a meal though your stomach thunders so much.

A real relm of suffering was in that situation, where you have to suffer your own. 

While in the midst of preparing preliminery exam, I have to fight back with this distructing emotions and when the exam nears, you feel like your wieght of suffering was deminishing but each day there was increment in my fear.

Moreover, the only thought that revolve around me repeatedly was, What if I don't qualify in P.E? What will my parents feel about me? How can I face my friends? What should I do the next? What's my back up plan? The moment you start thinking those questions, you even get a goosebumps but whatever it was, life is determined by some percentage of luck,  perseverance and some percentage of what is so called karma, 'the fate'. I feel the 'wind of karma' has much effects on our life. No matter what happens, life goes on. 

So, may be there will be some person similar to me who would suffer but in a different way. Eventhen, I want to convey that you just need to give your 100 percent perseverance and should not forget to pray to Triple Jem. Not only when you need but everyday because somebody has rightly said that " you should not pray when rain falls, if you don't pray when sun shines." Prayers must be made. I feel it's useless to get bogged down with what's going inside you, the emotional things as it's temporary. Everything heals with a flow of time. We should not be complacent in this little time of preparation and recklessness shouldn't be there. Just prepare thoroughly and even if you don't get through it's okay. 

 Getting through RCSE is not only the way out to our life, there are many possible ways that we can lead our life. May be when we are disqualified, we think this is the end point and most of us get doomed in this midiocre of life. Eventhen, positively life is giving us a challenge to invest more in utilizing our unrecognized talents which most of us are devoid of recognizing it. And I am still confused of my talents! I know when we are not qualified, we feel some instinct of sadness but we should not feel the end point as every end point is a starting point. 

(Good luck to 2019 P.E and RCSE appearing candidates)

#Everything depicted herein this little write up are purely based on my experiences which was mixture of  fiction and non-fiction. So are the places, names and events#

Thank you.

Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom,

Time flies and life is in full swing no matter whether it's hard, peaceful or emotional. Our father is with me supporting me through thick and thin. I am sure that I  might still choose a wrong way, but our father is here for guidance.

Me with my mom ( Jangchuk)

I am still a reckless and indecisive child. I wonder when I will be a man? My brother is getting  braver than me and I am still like a infant mewling and puking. We sometimes talks about you and our talks will prolong narrating hardships, troubles and the arguments that our family have long time back. It melts my heart when hearing about how much hardships you faced. Eventhen, you mould everything in a perfect way no matter how much you are bogged down by those heart breaking circumstances.The story of  your sister neglecting you, boasting and over powering that she will get everything gets into my nerves. We as family are genetically weak in being oratory. We aren't loquicious. We are some kind of introvert. But doesn't matter, everything is over now. I don't have any grudge for them. Our family is fine with them now. On the other hand, father talks so nicely that I could recollect some of our incident. I have a numerous incident of getting a slap or a nice stick on my back or buttock from father but the time you were there, father never gets an opportunity to beat. You were firmly shielding me. I still remember hiding back side of yours and you strongly arguing with him. You are powerful. But father was not wrong either. One of the interesting story, my father repeatedly share me was about my brother Sonam and me getting drunk. You and father went to weed the maize. Sonam and me was a child and we have never taste alcohol before. That time was a first experience. On that day, we took out a freshly made Ara that was bottled and emersed in the cold water bucket to get it cold. We shared it and we were drunk. We made our way to maize field, swinging here and there like a pendulum. Father and you came to know that we are drunk and I still remember your statement, "Yalama, onu wagtsa niktsing nyos pa gewa la". ( Oh my God! This two child are insane). Father was furious. We are out of our sense but Mom, you came to us, led us to the water tap and made us to take a shower. We are saved from beating.  May be that was the first taste of Ara in our life. Some of the incidents are weird and I don't  like to remember at  all. So, that was about what we recollect and contemporarily, all of us are fine and we missed you mom. I am sure that you are watching us from that beautiful heaven. I will get back to you soon.

your lovely son,
Tshering Phuntsho

Book Review on Lomba

PC:Google

My Response to “Lomba”

The story “Lomba” by Pema Euden was another form depicting and describing the festival of Lomba that was prominently celebrated in Western part of Bhutan; Haa, and Paro. In the way of describing the myth behind the festival, it illustrates the values of friendship, relationship, trust, and most importantly the message that we should never take anything for granted. However, the recurring question that struck in my mind while reading was, ‘Can Lu really take human to their world if they skip dinner on that night?’ It is because the entire story was based on prominent myth’s story of Parops and Haaps that skipping dinner on Lomba night is a mysterious thing to do.

            The author has beautifully described about the Lomba night and I generally feel that the purpose of writing this book is to preserve our old tradition. The part that made me zest in reading this book was the complexity that the author creates when the protagonists Seday and Dawa were on the verge of finding their way to Human world by learning the story of Luethrim from Lu called Masel, but he dies without telling his secrets and killer of Masel is said to be their trustee Lu friend called Rigzhen. “I was taken aback. We had been so desparate for an escape for days and kept it from us all along. Did the ones I had trusted with my life turn out to be liars?” (Euden, 2016, p.151). They were doomed by trusting Rigzhen.  Consequently, I learned about Lomba which is a bizarre for me until now and most importantly it reminds me to preserve our positive culture and beliefs by portraying through story that everybody can understand.

The story “Lomba” was created based on historical belief that people of Haa and Paro have, but the instant question that evoke in my mind was; what is the main reason behind Lomba festival did not flourished to the eastern part of Bhutan? “I’m from Trashigang. “We don’t celebrate Lomba. Then why the hell am I here?” (Euden, 2016, p.62).  The character Dawa, who was from Trashigang was also trapped by Lus even though he was not aware of Lomba festival. I want to learn more on the consequences that eastern people will face if they start to celebrate Lomba.

Unlike other stories it was imaginative, has simple language and can easily connect to the personal experiences of our life. It expresses about the friendship, family and consequences behind trusting others easily. The story illustrates the festival that they celebrate and in a way connects to a myth’s story behind not eating dinner on that night. It was an amazing Bhutanese culture story engulfed by a myth.

References

                Euden, P. (2016). Lomba.Thimphu, Bhutan: Kuensel Coorporation Limited.

Letter To My Mom

Letter to My Mom

Dear Ama,

It was almost thirteen years since I did not see your face anymore but I am still confident that you are watching us from that blue and milky cloudy sky. Ama, you might have known that I was not there when you took your last breath and I even could not make my presence at your crematorium because you were directly taken from hospital to the cremation ground and I was in the class at that time. I was in class five. When I reached home, they were talking about your ashes. They told me that my elder brother and some other relatives have gone to the river to immerse the ashes, so I could not even accompany them and that even made me more remorseful looking at my life.  However, I am happy that my younger brother has stood with you until your last breath even though he didn’t know what has happened to you. I can still hear from him about your last facial expression and I can still ask him about that when I miss you Ama. And our sister and the brother in-law still share how you acted when you are in the midst of your unconscious state. And my eyes can no longer hold tears when I hear about that. The time I heard that you left us, I mourned a lot because I foresee that we can never function like how you used to live in the home with everything set up and ready like an indestructible illusionary machine. Even then, our perfect widower, our father has managed everything that he can do and our family was doing perfectly fine though all are peasants except me and my younger brother got opportunity to study.

Ama, I could not find any words to perfectly describe about your care and how you mould us. We are indebted to your kindness and care. The only thing that comes in my mind to compare you was with the ‘God Tara’. Everything is incorporated with her deeds, I swear! Subsequently, I just wanted to say that yesterday night you came into my dream and I am extremely glad to see your face. Though I have a photo of you and me holding your hand, it was with my father and I could not get it as it was far from the place I stay. Even then, you are printed in my mind like a scripture on the stone where I can reflect you whenever I miss you. I felt, if dream turns real so that at least I could convey my family that you were there with us for every tomorrow through thick and thin like you do before. I have so many things to share with you about our family but I have got limited time to write it all. Even then, I will share you when you come next time. See you again, Ama.

Yours lovely son