How did it get late so soon?

Hello blog buddies. How’ve ye all been? I’ve been out of this space for quite long and of all things, I’ve missed this space tremendously, this community. Writing and reading keeps me sane.

I have missed reading all your blog posts, I promise to catch up with you guys soon, on your life updates.

How did it get late so soon? 

Now that we are in the last leg of the year, I’m sure you all have been reflecting on the goals you had set for yourself at the beginning of this year. And I’m sure you have already achieved 98 per cent of it. Even if you didn't set goals, I’m sure you have been living a purpose driven life and that’s basically the same thing.

For once, I thought I will not blog about my recent life’s experience. Then again, I pondered upon it, and was heck, why not? I have to document this, an experience of my lifetime. Strike when the iron is hot and here I am, rambling about my recent experience.

I’m just back from experiencing a three week military training, Integrated training program. It’s a program for my office where we instill discipline, integrity, sense of ownership and loyalty. A program which is initiated upon the command of His Majesty the king, a privilege in itself.

When I informed my friends and families about this training program, they all sympathized me, said that it would be challenging physically. With that skepticism in mind, I kept on postponing my schedule for the longest time. I had initially planned to go early next year but somehow, I took the last leap of action and confirmed that I will go by November. And I did the right thing.

Now that I underwent the program, the whole world seems an entirely different thing to me, at least for now. It embarrass me to think that the life I had been leading till now is so mundane and laid back, physically. 

Routine and discipline are the order of the day in military life. From the moment you open your eyes to the time you close it at night, it’s all about discipline. The word NO is non-existent in the military dictionary. This depicts positivity in the life of the armed personnel.

For someone, who had never seen a gun first hand before had her heart on the throat when trained to fire the bullet. It’s all about the routine, they said. It was so true. After a while, the morning jog with 4.4 kg SLR on the shoulder and 10 push-ups anytime of the day seemed very normal. The commands seem quite funny for the civil mind to register and articulate at first. But now that you have been totally immersed in it, it becomes part of you. And that’s routine again.

With my lovely comrade, friend and a confidante K.C

It’s all about taming your mind. The mind game. If you think you can do it, you can! I had this chill down my spine every time I thought about waking up at 5am and doing the physical training. Just the thought was enough to give me a fever because I have never been that morning person. But with routine, I could wake up and start my day. I was able to see the sun rise and sun set for the entire three weeks. Another achievement there!

It astounds me to know the capability of a human body. How it can be trained to build so much stamina and how it can withstand anything. I'm amazed at my body's capacity to brave such physical strain. 

     

This program opened my eyes to view the armed personnel from a whole new level. My reverence for them has increased triple fold. The sacrifice and life-long commitment they have given to serve the king, country and people is remarkable.  I have nothing else, but deep respect to the armed personnel.

Letting your hair loose and wearing flip flops felt like a guilty pleasure. It was also a total disconnection from the outside world when we were not allowed to wear a wrist watch and carry a cell phone. Sometimes, it felt timeless when you are tuned to the routine and the last thing you need to do is look at the time.  

Its funny to learn that our organization skill is nothing compared to the armed personnel. Starting from tying your shoe lace to ironing your clothes and making sure that your belt and cap are straightened, uniformed personnel knows it best. They are so organized, like pomegranate seeds.

I can rant on forever about my thrilling 3 weeks experience, but I need to stop. Perhaps, we can have a coffee date and listen to me rant further, if you're interested.

All in all, it was an amazing experience, an experience of a lifetime.  And I’m so proud of myself for conquering it. My lovely ladies and comrades K.C and Ana Tshering made it further delightful, I have never laughed so much in my life before than with you ladies. Thank you 8th Batch for being awesome comrades, you guys made it more merrier. Sometimes, all it needs is a little will power to learn life’s greatest lessons.  

Visit to Taj Mahal

Visiting Taj Mahal had always been on my bucket list. And it happened at the right time in this Delhi work trip of mine. This trip was not planned at all. It happened overnight. Everything fell into place like a jigsaw puzzle like it was forever meant to be. For this, I really thank my boss for being so considerate and having that trust in me. 

So overnight, I discussed with Kipchu, my young friend and a blogger who is currently studying in Delhi on the prospect of visiting Taj Mahal in Agra in one of the days.  He suggested we take the direct train to Agra from Nizamuddin station in Delhi and return by the same in the evening. He did the reservation for us as well.

At 6:30 am in the morning, we reached the train station. I had never experienced the local train journey in India before. So this was the first time for me and I was pretty thrilled. Early morning and the station was already swarming with hurrying people. Time was not a standstill here. Everyone had a destination to reach. We followed suit and scurried off to our platform after asking the direction from people nearby. Our broken Hindi was of immense help.

At 7 am sharp, the train left the station. Comfortably seated by the window seat, we could enjoy the sunrise. Soon vendors started selling tea and breakfast and for Rs. 30 we could get a cup of nice sweetened milk tea and 2 slices of bread with some pokora filling. A little conversation with my friend, few pages of reading from my current read and after a short nap, we reached Agra in approximately 3 hours.

From Agra Kant station, Taj Mahal is some few kilometers away. We took the auto at Rs.100. Since Taj Mahal is a highly tourist site the chance of getting ripped off is extremely high. From the self-proclaimed guide to cabbies to the auto drivers and the vendors, every one of them seems to be fixed on harvesting the maximum benefit from the tourist. One should not be surprised when numerous vendors pulls you and offer you so many things.   

Once inside, we took ample of pictures of standing in front of the Taj, holding the Taj and Taj from different angle. With the bombardment of technologies we no longer take time to admire and applaud the architecture of the world heritage. Instead we are so busy taking pictures for social media updates and forgoing the art of being present. It’s a sad times we have come to. 

After touring the Taj Mahal, we had another 6 hours to pass until we catch the train back to Delhi. With lots of time on hand, we wanted to visit the local market nearby. This is when we made a blunder.  We hailed an auto to take us to the market. The auto driver took some 45 minutes to take us to the market through some streets of all sorts, God alone knows where and if we were asked to get back, it would take us forever. We didn’t get to the market we wanted. Later we realized we were being ripped off. 

 

The predicament didn’t end there. 

Once back to the train station we caught another train, early by 4 hours from our scheduled train. After changing a coach, we found that it was a general compartment where there was no space to stand also. We tagged along a kind and fierce lady who was on the way to the hospital at Delhi to visit her brother-in-law. Her college going son was with her as well. Somehow we managed a seat. By then we were the center of attraction in the coach. We were bombarded with lots of questions and despite our limited Hindi, we were quite comfortable to converse with them. 

On that three and half hour journey, we could have a glimpse into the life of the locals. Their conversation centered on the daily wage, communalism, thefts and robberies, education and the advent of digital technologies. They shared their local sweets and hailed a cab for us when we reached the final station. It’s strange how the same breed of people wants to rip you off and help at the same time. We were so grateful to have met the kind lady and her son and another kind gentleman.

I shall not forget their kindness. Their kindness was infectious. We passed on this kindness to another gentleman at the airport, a Bhutanese who was returning from his Masters program from Europe. He must have had a lot to bring home since he had excess luggage.  Another Bhutanese we met at the embassy and the two of us checked in as group along with the guy, since we were travelling very light. It helped him to avoid paying for the excess luggage. He felt so grateful that he was repeatedly thanking us. We smiled and told him to pass on this kindness.  

It was the shortest work trip yet the memories was immense. And that’s what it counts, I believe. If you are reading this Kipchu, I’d like to thank you and your friend Jigme for showing us around and taking me to book heaven. I died there once. And making our trip to incredible India an amazing one. Thank you so much. 

Dear February

Image courtesy: Pinterest

Dear feburary, February, why do I always get your spelling wrong? 

Do you know that you’re the perfect calendar month? I like to think that this makes you sexy and perfect. 

O that February face of yours! So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness. 

Early in the mornings when I pull the curtain to let the light in, the dewy mist you have left on my window glass the previous night makes me so lazy to get up that I leave the curtains hanging there and snuggle back to my warm duvet. 

The crispness in the air has decreased a lot now. Plenty of your sunny days indicate that spring is almost here. 

The warmth in the air has resurrected my plants. They have started to breathe and I can see few leaves popping up already. Does that mean that spring is right around the corner? Definitely it is. Just the thought of it soothes my heart. 

There is something very intimate about you, O February! I will miss the long cold nights when I can snuggle in bed and read away the night. I will miss those rosy cheeks you give us in the cold. I will miss wearing boots and scarves. I will miss writing to you on a lazy Sunday afternoon listening to sweet emotion on the radio. Sigh! We humans are never satisfied. 

But one thing. I shall cherish you while you are here. Please be good.

Holland Diary

Like the locals I like to call The Netherlands as Holland.I had an excellent opportunity to visit Holland for a short training program earlier in March this year. It was the first solo travel I ever did. Boy, I was so anxious. I was googling for everything and I made sure I was equipped with every information I could find. In 24 hours of my journey, I was on air for approximately 18 hours then a train ride for 35 minutes and some 10 minutes tram ride until I reached my destination. 
And I'm amazed it went perfectly well and I gained quite an experience as well. Now I've been bitten with the travel bug and it is quite hard to shake the bugs off. I want to travel more, explore and see the world. 

In memory of my solo trip I thought I will share some amazing and wonderful pictures here on the blog.

Madurodam: If you do not have time to see the whole of Holland, relax! Madurodam, the miniature park is there for you. Located in the Scheveningen district of The Hague, its a home to a perfect 1:25 scale model replicas of famous Dutch castles, public buildings, and large industrial projects as found at various locations in the country. 
The real Holland is 25 times larger than the miniature buildings and castles in Madurodam.  

Madurodam

Amsterdam

The Peace Palace: The Peace Palace is a building in The Hague, often called the seat of international law since it houses the International Court of Justice, the Permanent Court of Arbitration, The Hague Academy of International Law and Peace Palace Library. 

The above picture is the real landmark of Peace Palace and the below one is a miniature in Madurodam

During the weekends, we made a trip to Antwerp and Brussels in Belgium. Weekend train tickets are available at half the normal price at a reasonable rate. While in Brussels we saw bronze sculpture, Manneken Pis, depicting a naked little guy peeing. There are a lot of myths behind that bronze statues though.

From the hot waffles to dripping Belgian chocolates to the beer and the visit to the grandeur churches and palaces, Brussels is worth every visit. 

Antwerp

With a Cambodian friend, Sreymom in Antwerp

Manneken Pis

Atomium in Brussels: Standing at 335 ft. tall and 59 ft. diameter, its stainless steel clad spheres connect the whole forms to the shape of a unit cell of an iron crystal magnified 165 million times. The top sphere provides a panoramic view of Brussels where you can again see the Mini-Europe miniature park located at the floor of the Atomium. CNN named Atomium building as Europe's most bizarre building. 

The Atomium as seen during the day and night

I had one of the most wonderful stay in Holland meeting new people and making friends from all over the world. During the two weeks stay I also got to make good friends which would last for my lifetime. Looking back, I have one of the most beautiful memories. Thank you all for everything.

being anonymous in a city

Certain things in life are best experienced when you step out of your normal routine, out of your comfort zone. 

I had this chance to experience this when I hopped on the plane to The Netherlands. If you have been with me on this blog you will know my anticipation and my anxiousness  about this trip in this post. 

This is my first time to travel solo and I actually spent a few sleepless nights before the trip imagining all the things after having quite a relationship with all those Locked up abroad series. 

After being up on the air for 18 hours and another 35 minutes train ride, my biological clock was not functioning properly. I was starving at 3 am in the morning and sleepy at 12 noon. To find a cure to this  jet lag of mine, I went to the park to get some sunlight. It is said that plenty of sunlight actually helps you recover from jet lag. 

After the Bhutanese,  I think the Dutch are the kindest people I know. Everywhere you go, they are ready to help you. So it was not difficult for me to navigate my way around the city.

I spotted a park and I sat in a bench there. I love to visit parks because I can people-watch, my favorite activity.

I could lie down in the bench and feel the sun on my face. I knew no one. A complete stranger I was in the city and so was the city to me. I felt relaxed, calm and at peace. 

A great sense of freedom filled in me. Not because I didn't have freedom before but because I had nothing. Which means I had everything because I had the freedom to do anything without fear and with courage. 

An expedition to Merak and Sakten

Sometimes you look back in life and realize that that one choice was one of the best things that ever happened to you. 

During my sophomore year in college, we took this expedition for 16 days to the then virgin nomadic community of Brokpas in Merak and Sakteng. 

The Brokpas are a very important and celebrated tribe of Tibetan stock in Bhutan, one of the most spectacular semi nomadic people, a very mysterious and elusive people billed as primitive, unchanged, isolated and remote. 

The Brokpas in their beautiful attire

April 28, 2007: A class of 24 students with their Lecturer/course In-charge Mr. Jigme Nidup left for the expedition to break fresh ground pertaining to the studies on Brokpas as a partial fulfillment of the paper VIII course.(Guys what was the name of the paper VIII course? :P, sorry Jigme sir).

Clad in sunscreen looking like white monkeys with sun cap, umbrella, backpack and our supplies for 16 days, we started from the nearest road point, Phongmey in Trashigang and walked for 5 hours and reached Joenkhar, the nearest village from the road. 

After a night there, starting early morning the next day, we crossed numerous suspension bridges, climbed the cliffs, and crossed the valleys sometimes crawling literarily, cried and reached the most spectacularly beautiful place Sakteng after 8 tedious hours. 

Merak Settlement

Class of 2008 with Jigme Sir

At Nyakchungla, 4140 meters. From left : I, Kunga & Tshomo

With a clustered settlement, all surrounded by beautiful valleys among the Juniper and Rhododendron shrubs and a quaint river flowing between the valleys, it reminds one of an old scene from the medieval English settlement in a movie.

Merak and Sakteng ranges from an elevation of 2,500 meters to 5,000 meters amidst the sublime starkness of alpine grandeur. The Brokpas are known to tend their herds in pastures as high up as 5,000 meters during the summer months, moving to lower regions for part of the winter when a frigid reign is ushered in, accompanied by freezing temperatures, snow and ice and bone chilling wind. 

Polygamy and barter system is part of everyday life here in the mountains. When one wife stays at home and weaves, the other goes herding. 

The men conduct a brisk trade of bartering their milk and woolen products against essential commodities. Interestingly, when the whole country was suffering from Rupee crisis, these breed of people were not affected. 

After living in the tents for a week, interacting with the locals, working on the data collection with them and merrymaking in the evenings, we had to descend towards Merak, climbing Nyakchungla at 4140 meters. It took us approximately 8 and half hours to reach Merak. 

The study being socioeconomic in nature, we could get deeper insight into the lifestyle of the Brokpa community through different demographic attributes. 

Today, things are changing for these nomads. They’ve been connected with cellular phones, roads and electricity and students from this community are participating in mainstream development. 

My heart swells with pride whenever I see or hear or read about them on televisions, radios and papers respectively. 

I always seem to brag about this expedition we took. 

There’s so much to write about it. I just don’t know where to start and how to end it. It has definitely been one of the most interesting and memorable experience of my life and I’m grateful to my friends of Geography Honors, Batch 2008 and the most interesting and kind soul, our Jigme Sir for this beautiful memory.  

When I look back now, I'm super glad I went through this trip.

P.S: I had been meaning to write this post for the longest time, finally it saw the daylight today. Dates and facts have been extracted from our field survey report, Geographers, how many of you still have those reports? Also some particulars are from the excerpts of my journal which I carried with me during that expedition. I hope this refreshes your memory. When I look back, I miss those days tremendously. 

Remembering Khuruthang

Year 2005: I went to Ugyen Academy in Khuruthang, Punakha. With much pride I dare say that it was one of the best decisions of my life to go there. Not because I could qualify for college from there but because I met wonderful teachers and friends and I got so much to learn from them. 

Also many wonderful things happened to me that teenage year which fairly helped me shape to become a person I’m today. 

For whatever reasons people used to say Khuruthang is a dead town. But to me, Khuruthang is a quaint sleepy town. 

The Puna Tsang Chhu river meanders undisturbed in the middle of the town and there are clear blue skies with plenty of warm sunshine; Khuruthang is the ideal place to live in winter. 

It’s a perfect town to untie the lace of your shoes, undress and get into the running river water in the scorching summer heat or take a stroll on the banks of the river towards the balmy evening.

More so, it’s a happy place to visit the weekend vegetable market and bargain for larger than life red dried chillies and crunchy puffed rice (zaw) with the locals. 

It’s the place to eat iced Frooti in summer and not get sore throat. It’s the place to climb a hill, stand on the top and feel the air on the face. Khuruthang is a perfect place for a happy ending. 

Fast forward to 2014: After nine years, I was visiting Khuruthang, this happy ending place. Except that it was not a happy ending this time but rather a distressing one. 

This past weekend, I was visiting an ailing uncle with my parents, only to find on that clear, sunny and warm morning that he breathed his last on the wee hours of that morning. 

Grief-stricken, we prayed for the deceased and the family and returned home.May his soul rest in peace.

I wonder when I will get to visit Khuruthang next and what memories I will have then. Will the memories be as happy and as sad as it should be? 

Only time will tell, I hope. 

2013 - The Year in Review

The cold wind blew. It chilled my spine. Draped in warm and fluffy scarf around the neck I rush to the rescue of the warmth in my office every morning. Sometimes I do some work, other times I attend some boring meetings, fill my note pad with graffiti to save my boredom and sip some warm tea and at times I just stare blankly at the computer before me and pass the day. My days are filled with mundane tasks like these. 

It feels just like yesterday when I opened a blank Microsoft word page and started rambling about the year that was in this post. Since then I expected some grand changes to take place in my life in these past 365 days that will complete tommorrow. 

However, nothing odd and exciting seems to have taken place. I’m just the same old me. I travel the same stretch of road to reach work, see the same set of people every day, have sat in the same old brown/black chair eight hours a day and done the same job for the past three years. I’ve never taken a vacation. In fact my life has been like this; school--->College---->a year of working--->Post Graduate--->working at present. God, seriously I’ve never had a break in my life till now. 

Have I grown wiser? Umnn…I think so…but I’m not sure. Have I grown older? Definitely Yes. Yet life has remained as it is. Nonetheless, I feel blessed in this mundane life of mine. I try to find beauty in these little things and I thank the Gold Almighty for a wonderful life. Even if my life in the year 2013 isn’t exciting, let’s review it in pictures. Yay! 

JANUARY : January saw the first snowfall in Thimphu. I wish for knee-deep snowfall at this time of the year.

FEBRUARY: Finally a place where we can call home could be accomplished. Every morning I wake up to see this gorgeous morning sunrise view from my window.

MARCH:The weather had started to warm up in Thimphu by then, so a stroll in the Centenary Park was the perfect way to bask in the warm sun. The gorgeous snow-capped mountains at the back are breathtakingly beautiful. 

APRIL:The season of hope and renewal, April brought in fresh blooms. I captured this beautiful peach blossoms in Kyichu Lhakhang in Paro. This picture also got a place in a frame on the wall of my house.

MAY: My love for nail paint and nail art must have been at its peak. Like a maniac, I was painting and doing nail art frantically. 

JUNE: I had the opportunity to be a part of the delegate for a visit to the beautiful city of Copenhagen, Denmark in June. Loved every bit of it.

JULY: We went camping. Read the funny story here.

AUGUST: It rained incessantly in August. So it was the time for watching raindrops on the glass of a window and reading in bed. Bliss!

SEPTEMBER: Reading continued. A good deal of time was spent on reading this month which means I also drank a great amount of tea. I read The Fault in Our Stars, The Book Thief and The Kafka on the Shore. I've mentioned many a times about the books here in the blog. You can also find the reviews here.

Via Pinterest (Source unknown)

OCTOBER: My birth month. This letter to my 27 year old self  sums up everything.

NOVEMBER: Mother had her surgery successful. Yet again I contemplated on life in this post. 

DECEMBER: Ushered in the season of holidays and visiting family and friends. On the right is my friend's cute little son. Since selfies are official now, here's a selfie of me wishing you a happy new year 2014. Have a blessed year.

I'm always thankful to the Lord Almighty for this glorious life and a blessed year 2013.

Sometimes the heart brags of human bondage

Thimphu at 6 am in the morning

The half completed assignment was still lying on the desk. The page of the book was perfectly folded and stacked away in the shelf waiting to be read again. The daily favorite tv shows were missed. Everything came to a complete standstill when I left for the hospital. I had an unfinished love affair with my assignment, my book and the tv shows. The hospital ward I had to live in for 5 days became an entirely new world. I was then Alice in Wonderland. 

I had the least of the knowledge that the world I would be living in for the next 5 days will be the one where sorrows, frets and frustrations were everybody’s everyday’s chores. 

Etherized on the hospital bed, my mother had yet to regain her consciousness and return to the reality of pain from the surgery. The water had completely drained from her pale face and she looked ghostly thin. 

Pungent air filled the ward. It fatigued me and made me sick at the pit of my stomach. I wondered how the patients were able to breathe in the air. But they were so much in pain that the pungent air was nothing compared to their pain. 

Dressed in pink and blue pants and shirts with their mouth carefully masked, the nurses came and checked the patient’s blood pressure and gave doses of the medicine as and when required. 

Opposite to my mother’s bed, a middle aged man was tending to his old wife. They had just returned from her chemotherapy treatment from Kolkata, the husband told me. The wife had lost all her hair to the treatment and she looked like a ragged doll. 

Next to their bed was an elderly couple. The wife had just done her surgery the day before my mother was admitted. A urinary plastic bag was attached to her bed and she could not walk. 

The husband was kneeling on the bed beside her and he looked at me with sympathy. I was exactly sitting in the same position like him. He could understand the pain of my mother. 

Through our eyes, we nodded at each other and understood each other’s struggles-struggle to see your loved one go under the knife, that moment of waiting outside the operation theatre and now the moment of waiting for my mother to regain her consciousness and for his wife to heal post-surgery; for her to be able to walk, eat and smile and go back to their village. They came for the surgery from their village, I was told. 

In another bed, a lanky looking man was tending to his wife who had undergone Cesarean Section to deliver the baby. She told me that this is their fifth child in a row. The husband had no job and they had no relatives. “Being poor is difficult, because there’s no one to look after when you are sick.” she said. 

The husband was juggling between the pediatric ward where the baby was kept and to the maternity ward where the mother was. 

The next day, they were discharged from the hospital. An old woman replaced the bed. Surprisingly, she also had no one to look after her at the hospital. Her left part of the body was paralyzed partially. I helped her with her coma to wear the kira and get her meals. She didn’t have a cell phone and couldn’t read or write to have noted down the numbers of her family. 

Everywhere I looked there was agony, hovering with large hollowed eyes. Human bondage is so powerful; even if I wanted to escape it, I couldn’t have gone far. My mother could never have escaped this surgery. 

Soon darkness started seeping in through the ward’s window. I looked outside, the cars flew past, and people were hurrying all bundled up in scarves and warm coats. Everybody had a destination to go to. Anxious they must be to reach the comfort and warmth of their homes, hurrying to feed their hungry and wailing babies at home, excited to see their loved ones. 

Anxiously, I also waited for my mother to talk to me, for her to reach out her hand and tell me to moisten her dried lips at least for she was not allowed to drink water. Often times, the irony of life hit me hard. Today you are here, tomorrow you may be gone. 

Soon silence overcame the darkness. It depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. 

I longed for the comfort of my bed, a cup of steaming tea and a comfortable place to sit on and doze off. For a big time sleeper like me, eye bags had already started to appear under my eyes. 

Just another night and a new hope would dawn upon, I thought.The hope of going away from the ward excited me. The new dawn indeed brought me hopes. Mother was doing a lot better than expected. 

After another four nights, we were finally going home. The warm autumn sun welcomed us crisply. It was a different feeling for my lungs to breathe in fresh air. 

Outside, everything was perfectly normal, as if nothing grave is happening inside the hospital wards and the whole concept of hospital is non-existent. 

I took a deep breath, inhaled the fresh air as much as I could and my smile was the largest. Largest because there’s so much irony in life.