Autumn of seventeen

Feelings of final summer rains,

Painting willow leaves yellow and pale,

The swiftly rippling autumn air,

Washing my valley,

The hues of Autumn.

Early dawn, i hear the beating droplets,

Never filling the gutter drains,

Until it last downpour.

Oh lord Queen!

I have something to tell you,

I will scroll down all that occupies in my heart,

Oh lord Queen, will you listen to me?

Oh lord Queen, your spring has made me mad.

Oh lord Queen,  Autumn is in air now.

I dont wanna listen to cruel Autumn of seventeen.

The hues of autumn '17.

Oh lord Queen, will wait for in winter then.

Morning Apple- I

Vibrations, was vibrating a whole mass of my bed. Buzzing sound was beating my ear drum frequently. Ops my dear alarm. I reached my self to off the alarm, instead my phone galloped between my fingers. It displayed 5:00 AM, just three hours passed i have been sleeping. 

Sun may be crescent above the horizon far away, birds are singing and chirping. summer breeze are gentle, flapping my jackets twinkling with the zipper as if a jingle bell. Roads are wide and decent, left with traillings of tyre prints. Atmosphere, shut in pindrop silent like universe is listening to my dancing walking footsteps.

Kilometer stones are left, yet not noticing a distance i travelled. Earphones closely plugged in, musics telling me lot of stories. My eyes are too close listening and lost between the stories mother nature narrate. Shadowed in the shavy shed of oaks, when leaves rustle with the flaps of prayer flags. In a far distance i hear a doe barking, may have lost something she loved. The ripple sound of morning dew, draining down the long blades of grass entangled the shining sun. 

Sorry, tears were univitable impinge was loud bomb. Aligning a sense in heavy rack. storming my eyes, riveting a heavy heart and drool feelings.

Far away in a distance, i noticed not mannerly hung sign boards. I knew i came so long from my house. The town was dead, few dogs lazily yawning and opening their jaw. stretching thier heavy legs to initaite a one long day tour. For lazy town occupants, whirling morning fresh air has to cyclone all the dusty and bumpty street roads. I bowed within sayining good-morning & hi LA.

U- turning back to home. i felt all imbibe in water, filled with sweats. slow walk back, musics seems so lazy and heavy. legs trying to crumbled up. heads are getting heavy, trying to get in wrong place. i knew i am exhuasted. 

far behind me i heard engine roaring, suddenly a stylish prado swiftly flew off a inch beside me. i felt like someone pushed me a bit. careless driving i murmered, as if she heard i said. black gogs lady looked back and happily showed me a middle finger. trying to pullout her finger so long.

                                                       - to be continued.

Summer '17

It splashes and nails in the rhythm over my window pane. 

I hear heavy rustling of leaves and deep gurgling of sky.

 It started again, again down pouring. 

My valley, pristinely covered in petals of flowers.

Magically painted in light green- yellowish chewy leaves of oak. 

Farmers started sowing and whistling to their Bulls. 

I hear my beloved singing me sad tune. 

It's summer again, season of rain. 

When leaches and beetle wrestle, I keep my cup of ara on the stone watching them. 

While a friend plays me flute of sad tune, I keep my tears rolling down. 

These wheel of samsara, I recollect you summer of 2016.

It's 21, May may take me old. 

I step out and in listening into you. 

Waiting for the love stories you write when heavy down pour beats. 

I know, you have torrential tackles and soothing move too. 

My dear summer, please bring some rain adorn in flower. 

That will feel everyone a lovely touch. 

Dear summer, you are not so far. Bring me beautiful stories. 

Some sentimental music and guiter will make me cry. 

Thus, wanna cry when you rain on me. 

Summer 2017!

Zangpola

January 2008! Winter breeze tosses my jackets collar and softly slams my ears. Tightening my skin frame and clogging blood passage through veins. It was curving my fingers like leafless deciduous tree and my hairs like spikes of fork. Everyone in my house was making warm and comfortable near heater while I was dialing number to call Zangpola.

I couldn’t connect him, so I texted him asking about results. Shortly my phone beeped, “dude I am not qualified for higher studies, study well brother and I will be missing your company” he replied. ‘Without Zangpola life is boring’ instantly his dialogue flashed and picked up my cell.

Hi, Zangpola! Are you sure about the results that you didn’t qualify?

‘Hi, yap bro! I knew and was sure about that because my exams were horrible’

Why don’t you apply for recheck?

‘It would be useless and just wastage of money, thought of joining as a NFE instructor in my village and moreover my mom is very old, she needs an attention too’

I know dude your mom is too old, but I think it would better you continue your studies. Dude you got lots of relatives to look after your mom.    

‘Umm yap its true brother, but feeling ashamed of brothers and sisters they have been helping me a lot. By the way you study well and give my regards to Pembalas and all!’

Ok then brother, I will miss you and I will let all group friends know about you. Bye will see you dude.

I hung up call and joined family for breakfast.

“This is Mr. Zangpo. Though it is unfortunate for him that he couldn’t continue for his higher studies but we are lucky to have him in our family as NFE instructor and he will be teaching music and coaching games and sports too. So once again let’s all of us cordially welcome Zangpo to our school and wish him a happy stay with us.” Principal introduced him to students and teachers in morning assembly the day he joined.

He used to call me, and I still remember asking him for recharge voucher most of the times. It was sometimes in December; I met him and visited his school. His small hamlet school was full of harmony and peace.

2009! It was a New Year, new students and new teachers. Euchung Lhamo was one of them. She was a New English teacher.

Autumn picked up! Season for farmers to harvest their cash crops and it was season of love for Zangpola. Where he was madly and deeply in love with Euchung (he never told us when he was in relationship). “Sweetheart, I’ll C U in library B4 Assembly. Be on time baby” every morning Euchung used to text Zangpola. They meet in library, talk awhile hug and kiss for starting a day. Euchung was one who has added tremendous elixir on Zangpolas life. She gave him wings of hope, inspire to soar high. He was completely engulfed in her love; he could just give her enormous feelings of his love.

It was pouring down heavily, nailing drops on Zangpolas CGI rooftop. Summer (Midterm break of academic year 2010 ) again, he tried to call Euchung but network denied him. After awhile he discovered phone was switched off. Heavily loaded heart has beaten faster than a normal rate.

Next day, early morning he waited for text. There was neither a message nor Euchung Lhamos sign of return from break. The intense thud inside and day became gloomy.

“He is my husband Zangpo” said Euchung. Hi and hello, murmured. It was a worst introduction he ever did. He couldn’t do anything. He was just a class X pass out simple boy, who is compare less to son of contractor and English madam.

There after he started drinking and smoking. His punctuality and honesty has faded. Interest of teaching lost and finally he got fired.

Standardization of equality defines here. Scale of false unity he assumed. His dreams got shattered. Presuming initial formulae of goodness answers the worst. Best thing is you give your best and expect the worst.

Zangpola is loyal friend and simple legendary man I will ever meet. He is currently a final year student of Sherubtse college undergoing bachelors in BA English dzongkha.

When Life Answer

Things got changed, but not seen. Way of living got advanced, but not lived. People come and go in life playing and presenting individual roles. Some are awesome and make us feel wonderful while some aren’t, yet more to meet. Life is sad, because things aren’t moving on the track but to the ones who have everything they desire, life’s fantastic.

Life is like playing archery, many aims to hit the bulls eyes, unlike all only few succeed, some give up, some blame the field range and some keep on trying. In life, we have many things to get done; in spite of trying hard and working cautiously things are still left undone. To define easiness, it’s sometimes where we have to initiate from intricacies. Tune with delicacies; freeze with complexities and deriving the life’s equation becomes valueless. However, to simulate the frequency of rhythm and to sing songs of life enriches the meaning of being in the world.

In-fact, they say life ain’t fair, yes it is and one must agree. Life is cool until you face the torrential phase, it is a heavenly place until you entered the hell gate and it’s beautiful when you ignore to see ugliness but life, it comes in package.

He sometimes wonders why it is like that.

He opens his diary every evening. His pen genuinely dances, to write her. He felt it, felt the pressure of pain when it digs. He took it as the pleasure. He wrote notes dedicating to her, pushing much on, making it shall happen someday. He knew story won’t be like what he thought, but his hopes lived. He sailed ahead with no destination and moved with no proper route. Time, made his thoughts wrap in a strong sanguine.

In spite of being insipid wine to her lips, she ignored to hurt him. Unlike him, she was little conservative and cognitive. She lived in her minutes, but he lived in her seconds. She employed her smile under his feelings. He lived in those memories.

The worst thing of life is when you are sure and it suddenly turns out to be uncertain. It just needs a strike, to blow off completely. Preparing seems like just building to destroy. You build it so nicely, and you felt so attached with it but when it departs its pains you.

Indeed you fell in love eventually and again you learn it you aren’t to be. Philophobia!!!

The Other Side

Winter was on mist hanging. It was cloudy and gloomy day. We were returning from Phuntsholing to Thimphu with his new SUV, BMW X5. He gently manages to press on the music player button to play his favorite list, ‘nge thimphu-by misty terrace’ was the first song. I was struggling to pull cork of the wine bottle ‘la Crema’. Balancing force and tension with bumps on road, I finally opened. Cheers to your new car boss, I raised my glass to kiss his.

It was 7:15 PM when we reach his place. Both of us gathered near heater with bottles of foster. And he went into kitchen to get glasses for us.

His phone beeped, displaying ‘Yangsel- text message’. Oye! Sangay some one call Yangsel messaged you. As soon as I called him. He rushed from a kitchen with wai wai and maggi not with glasses. He unlocks his phone, and focuses his eye lens blinking very curious.

“Common dude, its party time lets enjoy” he said to me. He went outside and brought some more foster, it made me little curious about the message. We again cheered for another round of fosters with pigs intestine. This time both of our face displayed maroon, like a ripen pumpkins. It sensed something is wrong with him, actually he never drinks that much! It made me ask him what the problem is.

“Last year summer gila, I was returning from my tour, from investigation case at Trashi Gang. Early morning, it was raining and I was first one to board the bus. Slowly, all gathered and got settled with respective seats. But my seat mate, showed no sign. Driver horned angrily, and it made to asked him to wait a little on-behalf of my seat partner. Few minutes later, a girl banged on the door! She was completely drenched in rain. Driver asked her, ‘ausa nan gila mo seat number 11 ga’ nope she replied. My sister is going so I came to drop her, in instance her sister came and she sat near me and waves her hands to her sister. Eventually we marched to Thimphu.

At first it made me irritate and angry, but she was a complete stranger to me and can’t say anything to her. I too wanted to tell her that I asked driver to wait for her. She was gorgeous dude, amazing morab, her smile is breathtakingly awesome and her scent still lingers within my nostrils. Till Chazam, both of us were buried silent. Suddenly she broke silent, ‘I was late right?’ I answer, yap few minutes late. I could see her, the feeling of sorry of being disobedient. That made her cute and more beautiful. I offer her candy and she exchanged with ‘thank you, Atta!’

Another round of silence, we reached Mongar. I thought it’s my turn to break silence, I offer her window seat if she is feeling not well. She said, ‘I am ok here’. And it made me little uneasy. I asked her details of going to Thimphu and finally learned that she is a final year student of Royal Thimphu College and her name as Yangsel.

I was in love with her, she knew I am employed and made her to accept my proposal. (Using slang) I thought she is in love with me, she isn’t. Dude these days girls just need money, and when their purse if filled they change their SIM-cards. Be careful Yenten!”

Shit! Yangsel, the one messaged him right now, how could she do that to him. I know my friend; he is deeply and madly in love with her. I told him to call and ask what the problem was. He denied, and showed me message.

‘Sangay! Sorry to tell you. I think you are not the one for me, I tried to keep hold on but it’s very difficult. I know it will hurt you, but I must tell you right now. I need to go away from this garden, some garden deserves better so I need say good bye!! Sorry once again’

The modern era, modern girls and advanced style of letter writings!!!

Every Evening

All day after, wave her orbs to west,

Summoning, lovely crescent moon to shine,

With flowery drizzle and crystal drops,

Shutting the cover of universe,

Saying goodbye, closing her eyes,

Kissing horizon, so tenderly to say I enjoyed today.

Flapping sounds, thundering rush and eloping tunes,

She comes every evening to meet me,

We talk, dance, drink, eat and even we kiss sometimes,

I do help her to paint her wings, those wings already adorn beautifully,

And help me to harvest my day.

With wishes and prayers, we close our eyes,

Tomorrow! In early dawn she is lost and no remnants are left,

Rather her fragrance makes me felt her absence my pain,

I bid goodbyes, with another hope to see her again,

See her again, every evening.

Dear Beautiful Butterfly!

Your beautiful wings, stole my heart and left nothing inside me,

I build love in your memory, and in your absence.

But can’t tell you when you are with me!!!

Dear Beautiful Butterfly! I always paint love on your wings

Hope you find those someday!

Dear Beautiful Butterfly!!