To my late Aunt.

Dearest A-ney,

It has been almost one and a half years since your lovely soul departed this world. Nothing much has changed yet everything has been different. I hope your soul's in Nibbana taking a long-needed rest.

It's early summer, and the weather's been fine for the last few days. It's cool in the mornings and evenings, with the chill breeze and mostly sun-drenching during the daytime. The blossoming season is almost over, beautiful flowers and their fragrance have given way to fruiting, and rhododendrons are wilting graciously. The river down the gorge started swelling, and its turbulent waves are becoming wrathful. The hillock on the other side has already shed its winter coat and now with summer time it has become lush green, and the gardens are rich again; greens growing luxuriantly.

Everyone's been good. Some are doing excellent and good, yet some are just doing okay and not-so-okay. But this is nothing new or surprising and certainly not agonizing. Dechey will be going to college very soon. She will be attending Jigme Singye Wangchuck Law School, the first one in our country. You should be really proud of her. Others are doing good as well.

Today's a fine day and as usual, I had a busy morning. But since I have night shift today afternoon was free. I needed to use it for relaxing and to loosen up myself a little. I went for a walk, more of a hike. I walked for almost 2 hours. On my way as usual I thought a lot; about work, people and their habits, and also about life and its uncertainties. And I thought about you; how I grew up playing around you, how we enjoyed your fine dishes. You used to get hold of us and clean our ear waxes one after the other, gently and affectionately. Even though you left us in the prime of your life, what you have been to us and everyone who have had come across you would know what a great soul and a caring woman you had been all your life. All the great memories we have had together are warmly cherished and cared for. All these thoughts made me cry a little. I am so sorry. I was not lamenting. I was celebrating.

I thought of you today, but that is nothing new. Rest peacefully in Nibbana A-ney!

Wangchu
Yours'  Nephew.

Medicine!!

"Because so much of what doctors are subject to is incomprehensible. The hours. The pressure. The exams. The culture. The training. The politics. Every single day. It is unrelenting." 

~~ Georgina Dent

Well, this is the truth. The fact. What's there to hide about...it is indeed a tragedy waiting to happen. Everyone's aware about it including people who have gone through these....the hardships, the trainings, the bullying and the brutal work conditions. As much as it remains as the story of the past, it is a reality in today's world too. 

Scientific evidence has shown that overworking, stress due to excess workload and exhaustion (both mental and physical) can lead to severe stress, burnout and compassion fatigue.This could lead to work-arounds and errors potentially compromising patient care. Health care is changing and for all bad reasons, it is becoming stressful. It is a well known fact. Health care providers are getting stressed and over-worked. Suicides among health care providers including doctors have happened and will happen. 

Medical training is pitiless right from the very beginning, and will be the same until you reach the very top. Is it the price that one pays for a prestigious vocation? Are we going to let this known fact, but less-cared tradition be allowed to continue? Or are we prepared to confront it? If so, at what cost and how are we going to do it?

Power for Peace.

“I am privileged by fate to live here in Princeton…In this small university town the chaotic voices of human strife barely penetrate. I am almost ashamed to be living in such peace while all the rest struggle and suffer.”

This is what Albert Einstein said in 1933, after escaping to US and seeing his fellow Jews struggle and suffer under Nazi's. That was a time. A time when humanity survived.

What do we see now? Well, we see that change; the demeaning of humanity and it's values. There has been drastic deterioration in respecting human lives and upholding human rights. It is a time, this very indefinite progress of existence where we see people who talk more and do less, the hypocrisy. We foresee something very apocalyptic and sinister looming large upon humanity. It is precarious. It is so when the very democratic and open government gives way to tyranny and issues "executive order barring Syrian refugees from entering US until further notice" so blatantly. 

It is very unbecoming for a democracy and a modern civilized world. For a government and country as resourceful and capable as US, a time for explicit reckoning has come. The entire world need that America's leadership founded by your great leaders of the past. Show to the world that it still exists and lead the world by examples, good and befitting examples. Let those examples embolden other nations, and let humanity revive.

Let there be peace on our beautiful Earth!

                                                   Dochula pass. December, 2016.

Think or think not!

Thoughts!

I think and think, think so deeply,

What's so profound in deep thinking; I think,

It makes you think more, and just more,
It hops from one summit to the next, far and near.

Thoughts entangle you and your mind,

It's in thoughts you discover and re-discover,
All good ones and not-so-good ones,
It makes you play, run and eat.

Your mind is like an empty slate,

You scribble as you think, slate after slate,

The slates get mucky and sully,
And yet you think.

Under the bluish clouds of sky and shadows of sun-rays,

2016 went by and 2017 just came by,

Obama's gone and Trump's sworn in,
I think and still think.

May the prayers be heard and songs be sung,
Let peace perpetuate and hatred plummet,
May I live and my inner being sustain,
And let my thoughts make me think. 

Drolang Goenpa, December 2016.

109th National Day.

How so fortunate and favored!!!

Every time I watch National Day Celebration, my sense of utmost belonging and patriotism for our nation gets electrified. That feeling is unwavering. And every time I watch His Majesty the king award the National Order of Merit (gold) to fellow citizens, who worked diligently, faced numerous ups and downs and sacrificed comforts all their life, I feel emotional and my soul-stirred.

It's natural and instinctive for one to feel emotional, more energized and invigorated. It's a privilege for all fellow Bhutanese to observe our fellow citizens who had put life long dedications and commitments, who had given their life in serving one's land getting recognized and appreciated by His Majesty the King himself. What's more uplifting than being a Bhutanese in this beautiful country.

Pic courtesy: Yellow Bhutan FB page.

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!

Waiting.

Wednesday was gloomy and it was already one past thirty, she left for a short seminar. I was waiting outside the seminar room jotting down a few lines.

A few minutes before the inception of the afternoon there was a torrential rainfall. It rained cats and dogs; water gushed down the drainage lines. Window panes were clouded. It was warm and damp, moist and gloomy. The temperature outside was high enough to vaporize almost every droplet from the wetted surfaces. A flock of unknown birds flew swiftly and perched on the slippery branches of shabby trees.

The rainfall ceased suddenly, and ultimately the day gave way to another bright time. Our life is nothing short of what these summer weather and sky give us, uncertainty! Yes, that's right. Uncertainty.

There I was, stationed on that steel chair with my hands caressing a long-standing wall; the wall that kept me away from the rather surrounding chill and humidity. Each drop of water fell off the shiny edges of the gutter and splashed against the steely surfaces of the drain. As the drizzling ebbed, a flock of birds started diving into the sky of clouds, merrily and swiftly. I was left gazing, fancied.

Moisture-laden wind're fresh and cool; brought gentle kisses and left. Neither should one wonder nor envy the agility of wind, for it is beyond past and future, beyond the very purpose of survival. I was still sitting and gazing, and brooding. I could lay my eyes upon an impressive architectural design, a well-built concrete standing solidly; perhaps designed by architects to last longer than what could remain after ages. I suddenly felt desolate and bereft. For making there's decaying; for joy there's sadness and for living there's this...loneliness.

 The gloomy weather and the taste of unripe mangoes were no better than a bitter companion. There was that longing, a hankering, a craving. I was waiting, all alone and at all costs, for her. And I craved to hold her hands, her hand with soft tiny, slender fingers. Well, she hasn't arrived yet. I touched my hands, and my fingers and gazed nowhere. Had I not seen her or touched her, I would have never known what I felt and knew how it felt. But at that moment in time, the waiting and the longing intrigued me to wait and desire.  Waiting is the thing that I abhorred the most. And that afternoon I could feel each second pass. Time seemed to cease. Hopes lost. But there was that 'longing', a sense of wanting in that waiting! I should wait, well at the least for a gentlewoman of my choice; a good dinner of treat.

I could hear melodies; smell the fragrance of water. I feared if it was all real or if I was just mysteriously hallucinating. Every note of sound each water droplet made on the rooftop; every rush of water vapor evaporating were fascinating. Could it be true this time I thought. At that moment in time. It was time for her to return and to appear. Right there, in front of me to ease off the anguish of waiting and gratify my very sense of longing for her.

And there she appeared, my prize for waiting. It took me up and down; high and low.