Flutter my Flutter-fly...

You are bursting with air,

Your wings- stunning,

Hovering hither and thither,
and yonder,

in search-  sweet nectar.

Your flight- awe-inspiring

Flowers await you,
 to rest on them,

to offer their sweet nectar.

Your spirit is pure,

Filled with innocence.

 indeed pretty,

A spectacle for the eyes,

your every stand.

Your beauty- prominent

The colours-  ostentatious

Yet I pity you,

You live but a beautiful short life,

A life overflowing with colours,

 complete with enchanting scents,

 all that last for a very short period.

I aspire to see you every day,

Your flight! -  refreshing and graceful.

As the dew drops on a morning grass,

Your beauty is incomparable.

You possess the identity,

The true variety of natural loveliness…

Flutter- flutter away with gracefulness,

My pretty butterfly.

Climate Change Versus Food Production

This is the second guest Posting by my student, Sherub Dorji . The essay has been written as an entry for the essay competition organised by the MoA.

SPIRITUALITY

At times,  when in solitude I muse over the greatest words of Buddha or Gandhi and even Shakespeare. I ask this question: Are these quotations mere phrases or Am I going in line with it or how far is it true and realistic?  Then,  Spirituality begins to take its form in my empty mind…

The world is never devoid of rational species but most intellectuals are always absent of their intellect.  From our own parents to schools, till our very own old age, we are but taught about being wise and leading a virtuous life. But how far are we applying what we have learnt? The numerous quotations we quote and scribes of religion that we learn are always moral. I speculate these wise words but end up being contrary to what it meant. Spirituality is a broad theme which is most interestingly revered and exploited.  Religion is directly associated with spirituality, as far as we perceive. I ponder over this question: Is spirituality religion then?

Spirituality is more than religion.  It is the quality to appreciate the existence of everything, be it an algae or the Eiffel tower. The belief that we have towards all things around us is spirituality, I believe it so. A fresh tuft of grass has its own reasons to be there and you might ignore its existence which may lead to trample it or pluck it out without any second thoughts.  On the other end, if you respect the small beings presence and take it as a part of your environment, then that is spirituality. We belief in thick wallets, bank balances, buildings in our name, posh cars and merely ignore the other end of all this. Ignorance is bliss but is it always so?

Religion is spirituality as we believe in intangible things in religion but spirituality is not, wholly, religion. I feel sad when in the name of religion, healthy lovely trees are felled to raise prayer flags. And I envy people who could afford to put forward plans and forge roads leading to a sacred site. Spirituality is a deep belief in something, not just physicals part of life. Did someone think about the 108 trees before they are destroyed to erect the fluttering flags? How sacred and spiritual will the sacred site be after exploiting its sacredness with trash and other pollutants?

A lama represents spirituality but all lamas are not Buddha. Buddha mastered all and propounded that everything is emptiness. I assume that it was spirituality that led Buddha towards his enlightenment. Buddhism is all about spirituality. This makes it obvious for the red robed bald practitioners to be associated with spirituality.  The irony of red robe spirituality  is now a question. A monk driving a cruiser, a lama holding a glass of beer, or a group of red robes enjoying a bar dance are some from many areas of concerns. Did Buddha wanted to preach this through his spirituality?

As a boy, I grew up in a society where most deeds were sinful and against the laws of nature. We were brought up to respect the elders and care for our younger ones; we were  taught not to kill and not to lie; we learnt about being generous and being polite… we learnt more than what we could take in. Spirituality became a part of our lives but unnoticed and unrecognized, it lived silently within. I believe that every cause has its effect and I know that even a plant has a life of its own. Thus spirituality adorned me and mine. Yet, I am a humble being whose deeds are always more against spirituality and seldom in line with spirituality.

N.B: The ideas presented are purely personal. This essay is not organized at all and I beg pardon from my readers.

The Painted but Haunted House

A fiction...

 

If we happen to visit the hamlet of Wachey in Wangdiphodrang, we will come across an elaborately painted house which is believed to be haunted. It is a majestic piece of architecture overlooking the peaceful village.

       Not long before, Ney-Chey Ap Novu (Treasurer of Wangdi dzongpen) build his house on a ridge above the main village of Wachey. He had two sons and a daughter. Since he has been a rich and prosperous person, the house was well furnished and painted. It looks elegant overseeing the whole village but the contradiction is that, the house is deserted and believed to be haunted.

         Aum Lem (daughter of Ap Novu) who was known for her beauty married a Tibetan businessman. The couple did not have a single child. When her husband died, she was not near him to hear his final words. She was the one who took care of the house as her two brothers went to the dzong as boedgarps (attendants of the dzongpoen).

After her husband’s 21^st death day or nyisho tsa chi, her father died. He had a miserable death. He had fallen off the balcony and smashed his head on the stone paved courtyard. This death wounded Aum Lem so much that she was ready to end her life too.

          Since then, there was death every now and then in the village. Her two brothers also died. The two fell off the mighty bjaeda roed che cliff while going to Trongsa. It is said that a black horse with red stripes is seen running near the house, neighing in troubled mood. If some one sees this, death is for sure. The lo ta of the dead Tibetan was Horse.

         One day Aum Lem felt uneasy and somewhat different, so she called Aum Bakhu to stay with her. Aum Bakhu was a poor lady with no one too look after. She grasped the opportunity and agreed to stay with Aum Lem. After three weeks something out of the ordinary happened. That evening Aum Bakhu saw Aum Lem acting abnormal. She was speaking in a man’s voice. She had bruises all over her body. Terrified, Aum Bakhu ran to seek the help of the local lama.  The lama arrived and tested Aum Lem in many ways. He pricked her with needle to test her sense. He said that Aum Lem was suffering from shi-ngo(spirit of a dead person entering the living body). He also said that it was her late husband’s spirit. The lama blessed Aum Lem but she didn’t survive long. She died a few moments later. Aum Bakhu fled the house and she too died on her way to her house. Her body was bruised with marks of horse hooves.

       With this fact no one dared to go near the house. It is believed that the spirit always affected the villagers here and there causing death and pain. On this the villagers held a meeting and decided to invite a great lama to put an end to the chaos and death turmoil.

       That time, lam Khamchu Singye (a great Tibetan scholar) was in Trongsa. So the villagers invited him. On arriving, the Lam slept in the house for one week. After that he held a Jeen-ser (blessing of the land) for three days. Then he locked and sealed the door of the house. He told the villagers not to venture near the house.

        From that day  the majestic dzong like mansion of Ney-che Ap Novu is a topic on line for new comers and a place to avoid for the pioneers. My grandfather says that the house is full of sounds of cry, pain and horses at night but it was less heard after after the Lam’s visit.  Only rats, wild animals and trees flourish near it.  So, this is the story of the painted but haunted house of Ney-che Novu.    

A Successful Year of Blogging

I joined the blogging world with multitude thoughts and intentions. I wanted to write my views and carve episodes from my life. The blog is environmentally friendly, there is zero waste. The blog is truly a ‘green’ product.  How’s that for GNH?   As for the title, From a Teacher’s P.O.V was selected, as all the views are based from my personal point of view, through the eyes and mind of a teacher. 

It was a very enjoyable journey of a year as a blogger. The battle of slow “net speed” and my patience fared well. The journey was enticing with great blogs to follow and work on my own to better it. But my true motivation came from my visitors, through their time and comments. 

Thus, I would like to thank my readers and my supporters…  gratitude beyond mere words

My Dad is My Hero!

In 1964 and at the age of 16, rather than reaping the teenage magical moments, he was teaching in the ramshackle classrooms of a newly established Bhutanese school- Samtengang Primary School in Wangdue, teaching students older than himself.  He was referred to as a strict teacher by his students. Teaching became a part of his life for more than two decades. Then he was appointed as the District Education Officer in Samtse from where he resigned to work with UNICEF as a consultant. A strict teacher cum family man was busy bringing up his children- 9 in number. His better half is a humble house wife. The burden of keeping up the large family fell on him and forced him to be a jack of all trades. Nevertheless, he won the losing battle and here he is now at 64 years of age, all healthy and his youngest is pursuing a bachelors in India. He is a proud father of five sons and four daughters. His children now look back and reflect the bygone days where their father kept the fire burning in their hearts. Some days are vague yet few makes the tear drops drop but the thought of his hard efforts always heightens my spirit.

For now, he is an old man coordinating a Dzongkha Learning Center and a consultation house in the busy capital of Bhutan but his family celebrates him as a great father. He heads the large family and plays archery…Mr. Rinzin Dorji dedicates all his might to any form of trade he ventures and this has made him a sincere and hardworking man of honor. His stern character makes him a nightmare to some but the gentle innocent heart is always a blessing he blesses.

Today… 2012 and at the age of 27, I stand as a teacher in the same school where my father has been a teacher and a headmaster. I was also born in the headmaster’s quarter  of this very school in 1985, while my dad was heading the school. I look back and with gratitude, remember my father. I am so as he was so is all that I contemplate. I thank him for everything.

                                                       My dad is my greatest Hero. 

Dawn of Dusk

Yonder into those mountains,

I wonder what happens,

questioning who dwells in such haven.

I speculate life there,

and gaze with serenity.

I perceive zilch but splendour,

enchanting beauty of twilight,

 the dawn of dusk.

I become the faithful spectator,

over those mighty elements,

to witness the clouds drift,

flying freely over the green giants,

kissing them as they enjoy the escape,

constructing mirages and pulse,

over the cosmic ocean of blue sky.

Brightness succumbs to darkness… but mutually.

I feel the natural vigour,

that crafts day and night.

Dusk embarks to envelope,

those potent beings and everything.

The sun returns to rest.

For it has to dawn yet again,

once more to call it a day,

                                                                         and to give us a  fresh start- to a new beginning.