Fortune!

One Life, one’s living.

His father is a clerk, comes walking like a jerk,

The man got talents, he writes Dzongkha like a pro-

Does translations and speaks English like a Brit-

Oh! Such is a man, a father to a beautiful boy.

How bad, and how low should one feel?

You do feel not a thing for others; no anything,

But for a boy of his age, of such a tender age,

Going through such a thing in life, in one’s life,

It’s unthinkable! Oh, dear goodness.

His father grew up, learned, and married,

He kept pegging away at life; one life,

He made love and had children, like an ordinary man,

And just like an ordinary man, he enjoyed and got drunk,

Got drunk and far drunk.

It was a beginning of an end, an era so dark and dim,

His father swam in the dark ocean of self-miseries,

His wife left him for another free gentle soul,

And his beloved liver, which was strained with galloons of liquor,

Failed, gradually but certainly until it entered the stage of no return,

And yet, his father drank, and drank,

Until he fell down into a dark abyss.

He got no say, for his master is his father,

And when his father’s abdomen swells with 'ascites',

He knows what’s next, and it’s to take him to the hospital for 'tapping',

And once tapped, he takes him home, walking and holding,

Just for him to come back the very next day,

Holding his father – whose abdomen is as huge as a potbelly,

And looking ahead for a future, which lies hugely uncertain,

Pardon, my dear brother, such is life!