Letter to My Parents

note: writer is my cousin, Hannah who expresses her feelings for her parents in this letter.

Dear Papa and Mama,

You have your daughter who is remembering you in this piece of paper although it seems so worthless. It is worthless because you will not know what I’m writing here. It may look like the insects scattered here and there on the bright wall to you. But I know that you will smile when you gently pick the paper and bring near your nose tips. You will smell a fragrant of something which you won’t be able to describe what it is. Both of you will argue for a while mainly on what language I’ve used to write to you. And here I can see both of you vividly; papa dominating the argument,'mom'. Then ‘papa’ will call my brother in tenth grade and insist him to read for them. He will unfold  my paper with hesitancy and start to read them aloud, translating to which both of you will give a sigh of relief. Then he will explain my above words missing out most, exaggerating some and I am sure he will not read you this line. I know he will be burning inside while muttering the lines about him, but he won't realize how much I miss him. He then continues, this time with the easy smile and reads these lines.

Papa and mama will not be able to estimate how happy and sad I am when I’m writing you this. I’m happy as I am who I am because of you. And the sadness is just by thinking how you both are feeling now, when you are hearing what I say from someone else. And I’m very much sure that the cold feeling of regret visits your mind…the regret of not being able to write me back your love and consolations. But I feel I’m really lucky to be born from you, raised by a corrective father and protective mother engulfed with your profound love. I can’t tell how much papa and mama meant to me while growing up. I am so proud to be your daughter.

I can still remember your whippings papa. You have done it right papa, when other friends of mine melts on something small reason, I do not despite how great the problem is. It’s your countless sticks that have made me bold and stronger at heart. And you fulfilled what the king Solomon said, ’’Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him”. Dear mum,  you have sacrificed a lot to keep us safe. You would have some discussion with Papa as every husband and wife does…but you always remained  superior just to bring a peace at home. I know papa is also proud of you for having you in his life.

So when all my words are coming to an end, I only want to bind all my respects for both of you, that you sacrificed and you missed a lot of special things just to keep one thing-a perfect relationship between the children and the parents bounded by love and the God’s guidance. I know you couldn’t provide us a good house and we are not born with a silver spoon in our mouth but you gave us a home. I had these emotions since a long time back when you made me a person able to rationalize things, but I held it till now as you know I never express things directly. 

I love you, my dear parents. You are and always will be my inspiration.

Yours loving daughter

Hannah

where the mind is without fear

As my blog title suggests, "Where the mind is without fear" i was inspired by the Rabinranath Tagore's poem of the same name. First time i came across the poem was when i was in middle secondary(grade ninth and tenth). Very moment, the message passed was very clear. " where the mind is without fear". Am totally not for  domestic/global divides that cultures, religions,caste et al  or to sum up ignorance brings in. Rabinranath Tagore have written a work that calls in the world where humanity and the presence of mind exists.

Rabindranath Tagore in Kolkata (probably 
taken in 1909, the year he was 
granted knighthood) wikipedia

Where the mind is without fear 


Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake
 poet; Rabindranath Tagore 
Rabindranath Tagore (7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941), sobriquet Gurudev, was a Bengali poet, novelist, musician, painter and playwright who reshaped Bengali literature and music. As author of Gitanjali with its "profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse", he was the first non-European to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature(1913). His poetry in translation was viewed as spiritual, and this together with his mesmerizing persona gave him a prophet-like aura in the west. His "elegant prose and magical poetry" still remain largely unknown outside the confines of Bengal. source; wikipedia

Memories

Author: Kinzang Wangdi, second year med- student in colombo reflects his departure from his home. 

I can still feel exactly how i felt when i left my home back then. And this memory strikes episodes of flashbacks, especially when i am all alone or when i realize what the truth is. The truth is; i wouldn't be walking, bearing these pounds of remorses on my head had i been a little more caring to myself, a little more workaholic and a little more conscious of the way the time passed and passes.

The regrets (not really regrets; some sort of helplessness) come, not from what i couldn't do, but from what i didn't do. Never did i realize that it would make me go insane until today and when i realize it does, am far down the line. I know it surely will take me sometime to get over these thoughts. I never gave time, the value it has. On the last day i felt i was weak and shuddering under the fear that i will miss everyone so close to me.

It was the Blessed Rainy Day! i can say i had no pleasure however special the day was but i was at least happy that i had one more day with the ones i loved and cared. The ones with whom i wish my whole lifetime together. That was the time when i realized how much of a perfect fool i was.

It's true, time fleets very fast when we need it by our side. The night soon gave in. The morning was cold and still dark. My parents had made everything ready by the time i woke up. I was preparing to leave for the alien land again. Thoughts rushed through my mind: messy,mixed and unclear. Time drove and dragged me and i had to leave my home. I remember my mom shedding tears for her reckless son. The true meaning of parental love and care, departure and all sorts became crystal clear. ''if only i had studied a little more harder....'' 

Sometimes in April

note: Tshering Jamtsho, second year medical student in Colombo reflects of the April at his home with his family. This is his original writing published here with his due permission with mild changes but keeping the originality as far as possible.


After aging ten, he spent just one April with his family.
It's not that rainy always, cool and virgin. Everything grows green, birds singing, stream nearby is so gentle,
winds blows from northeast and the people are in their farmland. Fields softens to germinate seeds and the doves and pigeons are plenty. Catapult placed perfectly over left hand and pulled hard can make dozens of doves fly back.
He is not surprised to see people in the field, before the dawn till dusk had kissed the mountains. He understands it is simple way villagers live.His mom would tell, 'when those peach flowers blooms, it is best time for chicken egg to hatch'. Dad would say, 'we can compare the cleverness of boy by the sharpness of the sword he carries'.
He loved to spend his time in the forest with cattle. Leaves of Oak trees to the east alongside the main footway would grow from rat's ear to calf's ear. On free time, he goes to the chorten and watches his neighbours sat randomly drinking refreshment. When sun sets, he is relieved. He ties up the cattle and is happy to see the calfs grow cleaner and bulls getting thier neck thickened. Washing with the tap water pouring helplessly to wooden black trough, he would hear insects' sounds and  his little cute sister would be back from the school.
Four of them would mostly spent time together in kitchen. To the right of the white painted gigantic clay oven, his mom would cook typical Sharchop curry, more of soup which his father always preferred. On the left outlet of oven the maize would be distilled for Ara. To the left of the oven is his favourite place where he would play with the charcoal with his little cat. Father would  exhaustively  weave Bangchung and sister would sit on the carpet with wrinkled forehead with her homeworks.
He might have flown over the sea to cities, may be enjoying but is hardly happy. Sometimes in April he asks  'Do i miss those days at home?' and wonder who might be sitting in his favorite place.


author; Tshering Jamtsho alias KB among his friends circle.


chorten; a stupa. 
Sharchop: easterner. 
Ara: homemade Bhutanese wine. 
Bangchung: a cane made, intricately designed circular plate like container used especially for carrying and storing foods. 

Mother

Almighty Lord, how beautiful is this universe

So work manly made, wonderful design it is

The mathematical precision none can match

Trusty an Engineer art thou, thy creation works smooth

Grasses green, trees majestic, mountains high

Plains vast, rivers perennial and oceans deep

Magnificent   beauty to behold

All singing thy praise in one accord

 You have multiplied the seed of men

Unto the numbers of sand by the riverbank

Living soul
have thou given them

And a mother to keep their watch

Blessed are the women who bear the fruit of mankind

They are benevolent; no one would love their child like they does

Their hands are tender; loving care runs in their every vessels

They would weep one weeps and the joy of laughter they would share

They are our mother; who labored to see us smile

The first word that we utter would bring in much joy

She is one woman I would not stop loving

She is my mom, I salute her deepest regard

source : earthsky.org

None can rival her love; words are less

Diamonds are less precious

Sky is less wide and oceans shallow

I thank mighty one for giving me a wonderful mom

Most beautiful of thy creations grand

Thank you Lord, I have seen you in her 

One Surviving Silver Oak: a Wise Pride?

The tabloids, televisions and radios are filled with the news of Climate changes and destructions. The news of earthquakes, floods, melting glaciers and disappearing islands are not uncommon these days. The alarmed decision makers (whom we have trusted would make best decisions for generation now and future) are meeting in more numbers in flashy hotels at mountains, sands and smoggy cities with agendas to better the policies and initiatives to conserve the remnant of natural environment natural and reduce the further human (inhumane in nature) insults on life supporting earth. Either it be failed Copenhagen summit or more successful efforts elsewhere, to live in a natural earth is main cause at heart.

Reduction of factory emissions, emissions from vehicles, proper management of garbage, recycle of wastes, conservation of natural reserves, parks and fauna are some of the best efforts talked and energy devoted to. But with ever increasing population and their demands for better living conditions and comfort. The factories need to equate the demands with supplies. To meet the needs of the market factories has to burn more fuels and people has to drive more cars and make more wastes. The stress on nature is immensely multiplied. Nature has to give its way, it can’t hold any further like people losing their cool when they have to stand in a cue for time more than expected. I am no vicar to escape that. It is very instinctive or put it in other words ‘natural’. This is fine example of how natural things cannot remain natural forever. It certainly justifies the havocs we see around. That’s not so pleasant to learn. We are bearing fruits of our wayward shopping spree with nature.

Some days are dedicated to please the nature like World Environment Day on June 5th or Social Foresty Day on June 2nd in Bhutan. That looks a decent effort. I remember how enthusiastic we were as a primary school kid about planting our own sapling on June 2nd. Our seniors in school would pride about how tall their plant is. My sister had a eucalyptus by the roadside on our way to home. I would look at greening leaves and widening branch and would say to my peers that’s my sister’s plant and wish I would one day have my own plant to pride about. I think about it and I am always assured it was a wise pride.

One June I was one of the students entitled to saplings, I had a pine and was deemed old enough to take care of the sapling I was given. I dug a hole near cliff as recommended, tore the black plastic that wrapped the sapling and planted the pine amongst black soil and cow dung manure. And a fence to guard from the animals was secured around it. I would watch my plant every morning during the social work. Sometimes I would prune the weeds or water if I found a decent container. Plants of my friends grew green and tall. Mine of course survived the summer and the fall. Next spring when our school reopened I went to see my plant for last time. It wasn’t green and tall, a dried stalk was what was left. I thought winter chill ate my plant. It was a failure to make my school clean and green and a serious dent to my pride of owning a big tree one day. Next June I got more saplings but only one silver oak survived to grow tall and green. It is beautiful plant with tapering end and silvery leafs. That’s only pride I can be proud of when I recall of my effort to keep earth green and happy.

If we do the math, it would be 7 billion saplings we will be adding if we plant a sapling for each living person every year. This certainly shows working in one accord towards conserving the nature would yield us fewer woes. It is our earth and our obligation to keep it clean and happy. Let’s contribute with our little efforts every day.  Save nature to save ourselves for non can escape nature's fury.........can we?......