Fulfilling an Unfulfilled Project- College Magazine PART VII

Beauty of life

Duly clad in a pleasant weather with neither heat nor frost,

The cock crow unfolded with bizarre mirth, attesting massively

Ever extra-usual sunrise. The immature dawn unfurled most

With soothing stance before the largest fire that furtively

Looted a look in between two peaks and gazed upon the road;

Positioned in mild and calm sate under the colors

Of birds, warbling and chirping nearby, cast-board

Their tuneful ditties, and paved the way with warm welcome,

For the people who bypassed the thoroughfare.

The road seemed clean and scintillating through the bed of roses;

Bloomed wide open around and bees, attracted by their aroma,

Landed on to suckle the nectar from them, the place was

In absolute serenity lacking even a presage of disharmony

And made up the heavenly spot to rejoice: outshone and surpassed

The Godly peace, and promised for its eternal tranquility.

Amidst a peculiar milieu, appeared an aristocratic lass

On her tip-toe heels, bearing an impeccable visage which shone

As bright as full moon during a clear winter night, with her dark,

Long hair sagging loosely in the air when budged by the soft

Dawned-breeze. I wondered, ‘What a beauty of Life.’ They befitted

The feminine, walking impetuously in beauty, and composed no flaw.

She sparkled off her red-striped Kishuthara designed with silky

Patterns, with pinkish Wonju inside the black Goechen Tego,

And a blue, fingerless muffler twirled twice around her neck,

And the knotted under the chin. Well suited her inborn pasty

Complexion and made her to shine more.

 

Her pointed black boot, that befitted her, lashed on the paved footpath making a

Hoofing resonance that reverberates far and wide, loud and charismatic

To the onlooker, and made rhythm for the hymns of the morning

Birds and the sound of a garrulous brook that captured the ears

Of living creatures around, and ushered the lady with utmost homage.

Now the sun hid behind the clouds, the rainbow disappeared

Among the mists, the flower began to fold and drop down,

Songs of birds, din of river, and buzzing racket of bees

Clogged at sudden. “Is this the beauty of life?” My second

Heart inquired me, but sarcastically. I could not wrangle

With him, but pitched my self in great perplexity.

                                         Thukten Tshering.

 (EH-III)

Life

This life isn’t the end but,

Beginning of the end.

Because I like to begin,

When one ends because an end is-

Just the beginning of yet another.

Ups and downs, tears and laughter,

My life is composed of all,

I love the way life is,

Jack of all, master of none,

Varieties, spice of life.

I cry, I laugh, I sing and I dance,

Life surely is good but also bad.

I fly high, I fall deep,

It is all a fall and rise game life,

And I felled and I rose.

Past failure-long time gone,

I won’t look back, no regret,

Future- still long way ahead,

I won’t pine for, no fantasy,

Here I am, dwelling in the moment.

Like the sun setting today,

Only to shine the next morning,

And with more warmth and,

Light, may the world be protected

From the cold and darkness.

Salt and oil, chillies and cheese,

With all make a dish palatable,

I like the taste and the way too,

Neither salts more, nor oils less,

Varieties, masala of the dish.

To care is to crack, to fall is to rise,

You fall seven times, stand ten times,

And everytime you rise with hope and,

The last fall be the last, because you know,

How and why you fell- you won’t fall again.

The past isn’t you, nor is the future,

Your past is dead; your future is unborn,

You are the moment, the present be it,

I’m the moment; I live in the moment,

If you think, I am a shit, you are a double shit.

Phub Dem

EPA III

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Individual diversity

Some are borne high, others low,

Some are lucky and others wretched,

A few are polite, most are cruel.

Some are kind, others inhuman.

Changeable are some, while

Rest, ‘as constant as the northern star’.

Yet none to be cursed but selves;

Result is what we experience today,

Of the deeds we performed yesterday.

Others dance on lap of luxury,

Whilst some still are on breadline’

Some learn fast, others late,

One’s medicine is poison to others.

Some reap success and bliss,

Others go round in circles,

Without any joy but failure,

Still then grumble not, for is this

The effects of that we have cultivated.

Some are inclined in babbling,

Others reserved, some look elegant,

Others unsightly, some love socialization

While others are merely lonely wolves.

Some are slaves under others;

And some become commanders

While others servant to them.

But a cloth, whether be made

Of ‘goechhen’ or ‘khasha’, are to fade.

Some are playful, others a cold fish

Some succeed, others cast envious eyes,

Some think deep, others surface.

Some work with tongue, others with brain,

Courageous are some, others timid.

Sincere are a few, some act smart

In other’s clothes, some are great,

But others act great, yet curse not others;

Bear with whatever you possess now.

Wise are some, but hypocritically,

Others are while, what they are,

Some do things  rationally,

Others plunge themselves into regret.

Some are honest and truthful;

Others-clock that reads the wrong time,

Some -always busy as bees,

While others are as free as birds,

Yet destined are all to enter a death tunnel.

Nima Zangmo

EH, III

Days that are no more

Sometimes when I ‘m alone

And loneliness haunts my heart

I sit near the window—in total silence—

And think of the days, the days

Those are but only memories

I love to go back, way back to the land

Where everything is in harmony

Nature and its elements,

Where love of parents, smile of friends,

And kindness of neighbours in abundance

I love to go back, way back to the puddle

Where I played and had fun,

Where I could steal the glance

Of sparkling water fall in distant view

And cows grazing the fresh grasses,

Hear birds chirping, wind whistling

Bees hovering and butterflies fluttering

I love to go back, way back to the world of

Nursery-rhymes and story books

Where I have seen the beauty of words

And the wonder of story books

Where I discovered friends

And expanded my world beyond

I love to go back, way back to the college

Where I discovered my identity

Build the dreams of life

Where I roamed in best company of friends

These memories, so permanently

Printed in my memory are but

Great company in times of loneliness

In times of distress,

In times of happiness too!

Wish I could fly now

To my native land and

Fly back rejuvenated

Tshering Wangchuk III EP B

  Terror to my happiness

Life has solely graced me with unpleasant memories

When my soul forever longed for immortal happiness

“Fed up” the ultimate phrase I am left with

To soothe my vulnerable, heart breaking soul.

Little happiness did I ask God as my share

In price to my flawless enchanting prayers.

Eternal peace and tranquility I have been praying for;

Tears! The ugliest thing I was ever gifted with.

Alas!  My numbed heart aches;

The beat could be heard across the ocean.

O! The saviour of the universe, I beseech you, drag me not

Into the catastrophic stormy ocean of tears.

Like the thirsty cactus beneath the scorching sun in the Arabian desert

Yearning for erratic shower to descend from high,

I am amongst one with my wounded heart as dry as desert

Longing to cast eternal shower of happiness in my life.

It’s a nightmare for me to flash back over

My heavenly life ruined into particles of dust because

Misery had crept over my numbed body;

Opened its mouth to the optimum to gobble them up.

I did my best to beautify my illusionary life:

I gave my best to soothe myself from being demolished

I gave my best to reach the pinnacle of blissfulness

But vain if life is unenthusiastic to offer her happiness.

Exasperation and torment has crept over my life

Like the ivy creeping over the trees;

My dream in pursuit of happiness

Is being watered down. 

Now I give up in pursuit of happiness

Nor can I pretend to be happy anymore.

Perhaps, the unripe time has overshadowed my life

To reluctantly bid farewell to this filmy world.

People, I urge you to wake up;

Open your curtained eyes; look at yourself

We are a mere puppet dancing to the tune

Composed by this illusionary world.

                                                                            By Mila Wangchuk EH III

Memoir of my mother

She was the cornerstone of our family,

A paramount in our life,

An industrious woman,

For her painstaking children.

Buck us up in confronting chaos.

I could see her munching lettuce,

Doctor told her to devour it so.

She crunched as much as she could,

For she wanted to be heal,

From the terminal disease she had.

In lieu of being robust, she deteriorated day by day,

And plunged the time

Where she had to slouch on her bed,

Day and night.

My sister hovered near her,

Escorted her everywhere.

Alas! The haunting day came.

My mother went to deep slumber

Awfully very far from us.

Eyes welled up with tears,

My brother was scaffolding her.

We were anesthetized

And all I could hear was clamour of cries,

And prayers chanted by the monks.

Living us like birds without wings

In this catastrophic world,

We would be desperadoes.

Where we need her inspirations,

And avocation in each pace we leap.

“Take care of my children”,

Was her last word.

Time elapses by but still,

I savour her ephemeral presence in our life

I would be complacent,

If I am her child in the next generation.

Pempa Lhamo

English pry ‘B’ III yr