Your roots!

Just when you grow up!

Of all the days in a year, i think i love a day in November. There isn't any specific reason for it. I don't know why, but i am in love with that day. I am a believer and have strong faith in myself and circumstances.

I am a simple guy born in a small village in Central Bhutan, a small land-locked Himalayan nation sandwiched between two world powers, China to the north and India to the south. I grew up just like any village boy would, i had three wonderful brothers to share those childhood days. Looking back from now, all i have is good memories of us, playing on the beautiful slopes of my village. It was in nature and everything was so pure and clean. The air was fresh and mountains were hugely amazing.

Dorshong Goenpa, Trongsa.

We went to the nearby forest, herding our cattles and collecting firewoods in winter. Summer was pretty boring and gloomy. The weather's mostly dull and the whole village remain'd under thick brown clouds. Green shabby grasses grew up to knee-length and are ladder for long and slender Himalayan leeches. Some days we would find wild fruits and nuts which were so bitterly sweet. The laughs and tears, what would one find in such a natural heaven.

Then a winter, a season full of wonders and beauty. Sky overhead us was impeccably blue and high, as clear as an open-armed ocean. At night it gets endowed with millions of star-lights and with different heights of mountains and hills from ground below, my village is like a geographical model built for an exhibition.

Morning times were such spectacular hours of the day. It was cold to bones and the chilly north-eastern blizzards were too cold to bare. Yet, as the majestic Sun rose above the horizon and brighten'd the dawn, and as you see the valley below and on the other side, the cold you feel externally is an appetiser to the beauty you enjoy with your heart and mind.

I miss my village, especially the beautiful winter days.