A usual day

Beep Beep goes on my noisy alarm, and at such a point I just want to chuck it the farthest possible and go back to my dreamy slumber, which I do, and press the snooze; twelve minutes later it beeps again, I utter a disgruntled noise and press the snooze again. After some five snoozes, my watch reads some 7.45 AM and to attend 9 o'clock classes I should be up, infact up long back, then I curse myself for snoozing the time, curse the morning for being so cold and curse my bed for being so inviting.

Get up on a morning and that too late, then you start running like a mad person. Brush your teeth quickly, no time to glance on your oil soaked sweat laden face, shower even quicker, get out before the water settles in your body, mop roughly and there you are running around your room, and especially if you are messy like me, then you are running in your not so big room but everything strewn everywhere; books, pen, notes, phone, ipod, glasses, make up, and there goes the missing liner again, so search for it, beneath the bed, in the shelves only to find it sticking out with a wicked grin from your bag, ah! mornings. Dab some powder on your face, look a little presentable, look for your stole to cover the neck, and pack lunch, thank god I did it the night before itself, now that was being clever or just plain lazy!

Then I gather my coat, wear my stockings and my jeans and pocket my purse and go through the bag again, I live quite far from the department and coming back to pick up forgotten items would be a night mare, re-check, scan, done, ahh then the keys? the keys, bike and room keys...oh well in that am really intelligent, I never take the keys out of the key hole; once not very long back I got locked out of my own room, twice in a day, so that is never going to happen again, so I prove to the door that I finally have brians.

Slam, goes my door, click it sounds, and am out for the day.

Run downstairs, gobble some cereals, drink the milk making a throaty noise, gulp gulp, swipe the remains of the milk and then juggle to find the keys to open the door and close it back, be sure not to disturb your house mates since you would not want to be disturbed too. Then find the bike keys, unlock them, walk the bike across the road, cycle, and before five minutes of cycling, am cursing my breath again, ciggarettes, they are bad, bad, puff pant, they are bad, red light says the traffic, thanks for giving me the break. So it takes twenty two minutes to cycle to my department and I go find a seat, lower my back pack and today they tell me, the clock went an hour back, well the time settings!

Oxford Town

"Congratulations," said some Ministers, some friends, some known people and some unknown
"Oh, nice" or just "hmm," said some, who perhaps did not know how to react or did not want to or simply didn't care, " I did not know you were an intellectual said a few," " lucky you ( was that all luck?)," said a bunch and all the hiss and siss and comments were for getting into Oxford. Frankly, to me it did not matter how people reacted or how not, I had to say it for I was looking for funds and all I got was words, 'congratulations' which became cliched within time. Here I was hoping to have inspired more Bhutanese to make the west know of our existence and to ourselves that we too are capable of anything that we want to do, but I often wonder if my doings have been mistaken, scorned at, I do hope someday people will understand.I am paving a path, or maybe just clearing one, I hope you will follow or your kids will....

Since I applied here, I do not deny I was not fascinated by the course I had applied for and of- course the ancient university. It was an ideal dream. Writing letters to the college, filling the numerous forms, juggling between university and college contracts, arranging money, crying, weeping and cursing myself for dreaming, it was all quite a process, and as I lie stretched in my bed, smoking a cigarette, I wonder if it was all worth it.

Then begins the saga of freshers and introductions with a template of questions asking " where from, which country, which department, which college, which road you live on and so on," and all I get when I say "Bhutan," is "where is that," "oh, cool! but am bad at geography," "you have the happiness index there, damn cool," and you meet some who would not care unless you are USA or Canada or Australia or some big sized place on the map, and to those wanting to know where it is I say "Himalayas," and if you don't know that and you got this far, you got to very clever indeed!

Oxford systems are bizzare at times. Everyone is affiliated to a department and also to a college. College for socials and parties and cocktails and other fancy jester like items and department for lectures and seminars and all academic bits. The terms are even more intense, an eight week marathon and before you know it it is over. But the eight weeks are full of readings and lectures and independent motivated studies plus beer, pub crawl, ale and cider. You have a huge platform to go and attend the extra subjects that you like and whatever fits into your schedule. I volunteered for the newspaper and went to cover Dwain Chambers, the British sprinter, and meeting him in person after having 'wikipediad' him was a moment. Seeing his metal tooth gleaming and hearing him talk openly at the Oxford Union (expensive union to join) on drugs and sports was quite interesting.

Cycling, I have a pink dunlop bike ;), they seem to not like the word cycle and hence its a bike. I fell down a couple of times at the traffic, got bruised and embarrassed, managed to get up, smile at the car next to me and cycled again, yes am learning...

It is nice to be here but I do believe it is quite hyped and coming from a close knit community like ours, it is a tremendous change. Changing rooms, finding houses, buying food, eating 'bread, missing ema datsi,' is all a part of life that I have chosen. It is shit expensive to live in the UK, shit shit, it is. From the bus that charges you two pounds to cover few hundred metres to the food in the supermarket to the medicines in the dug store to a pint of beer in the bar, it is all money. Capitalistic views surround sound, and for the moment the favourite word is credit crunch, know it or not know what it means, it is the word to use.

Amidst all these you do meet interesting people too, name the country and you might bump into a citizen. I met someone from Barbados and am living with a house mate from Malta, Mexico and have classmates from Greece and Croatia and Venezuela and other places on earth. Met poets who recite poems while drinking beer and tell me of Blake and Ginsberg, scientists who work on some fancy atoms but nevertheless drink a lot, archeologists, anthropologists, photographers and the list goes on; you meet humans who have been brought up in different cultures and want to meet people from around the world, travel, learn and share. Academia, Oxford is truly one in that sense; there is room for everything and everyone, though this bit is debatable.

I am not trying to sound lucky or plain snobbish, I just want people to know that if they try, even this is accessible, but unfortunately there are no scholarships for Bhutanese and I did try speaking to the authorities but it seems they need funding from the government to give students of that government a chance. Politics, everywhere, it reeks in every corner of the world.

Autumn leaves rustling on the streets, falling overhead, green to yellow and to none, is a gorgeous sight. Panting and puffing, I ride my cycle, it is the cigarette that I should not be smoking, it makes my breath shorter, and I gaze into the pale blue twilight, the architectural marvels of the historic town, a student town, multicultural town, it reverberates of ideas and colours and drunkards and drinkers ...

Good old town Oxford, many a people have come and gone, written and done, been and seen and I will be in the many soon but I shall indulge in you Oxford,till I last in you.Hope someday we have more Bhutanese coming here. Hope to share my experiences when ride back and gently climb the mountains where I belong.

To sum it all up, happiness is desirous to all human beings and you do not need university education for that, no you don't. Just be happy at home, there is nothing like it but if you are adventurous and would like to experience unhappiness, escape from innocence and know the world, then well, try you may and you should.

Nature Pees

Dark Grey shadows of the sky,
the clouds seem to silently move,
becoming darker and darker,
till hell will break loose,
and when it does- they will pour,
with a vigour so vigorous,
it will prove its Englishness.

Chilly and cold wind,
leaves rustling and rubbing against the stony floor,
making 'that' sound,
maybe autumn beckons..

Here I am, south of England,
eating sausages and baked beans,
admiring the country side,
sitting on a wooden bench,
Oh meadows so beautiful,
oh gorgeous doe- eyes,
but today you are overshadowed,
with the dark grey clouds,
it's like it brings forth a message,
the message of rain- heavy rain..

Did the English weather drink a lot of beer?
Nature pees....

Mystic Me

A poetess in love with words,
A traveler in love with the road,
A clam shell- A woman deep inside.

Nature, my paradise,
The Himalayas, my abode,
The mountains my friends, the wind my breath, the rivers my joy,
Trees I love them,
I am a fire tigress, an Arian,
Art my food,
Camera my eyes,
Speech my reach,
And friends my need,
Knowledge my thirst,
Poetry my song,
Oxford my dream and
You- my destiny.

Tic tac toe

Tic tac toe,

The clock ticks ever second

Tic tac toe,

A minute has passed,

Tic tac toe,

An hour has passed,

Tic tac toe

The day will pass

Tic tac toe

I am one day closer to death.

Tic tac toe,

Who invented you?

Tic tac toe,

Why do you matter so much?

Tic tac toe,

They tell me you are precious

Tic tac toe,

You remind me of work,

things to accomplish before I hit the grave,

Tic tac toe,

Can I shut you forever?

Or will you shut me?

Tic tac toe,

You never leave me, you annoy me,

Tic tac toe,

You are the fleeting moment

Tic tac toe you shall always continue,

Time you are timeless,

Tic tac toe-

I give up!

I want to Run or just melt away

I want to run or just melt away,
I try,
I ain't growing shorter by the day.
I want to disappear,
but I keep on re-appearing.
I want to float with the clouds,
kiss the skies,
but I can't fly.
I want to understand the whys and the hows and the whos,
and all I hear is a silent SOOOshhhhhh.
Eyes are open and yet closed,
Ears listen and don't hear,
I breath but with no air,
I freeze and cold I have not become,
I can't comprehend the cosmic happenings,
so I will try vanishing like a ring of smoke among low hanging clouds,
fast and quick.

To the Rain

You poured today,
and in so long I haven't seen Thimphu so drenched.
The smell of summer pervading in the sky,
seeping through the rocks,
billowing from the clouds,
ah! the fresh smell of summer,
or is it giving way to autumn?
Mornings are colder,
sleep you get is longer,
slumber and slumber.
I watched the sky,
to figure out how you fall and from where,
clouds of shades I could find,
out of blue skies you were pouring at places,
some out of dark,
Some shiny clouds smiling,
and after the Rain,
a friend once said,
Thimphu looks happier,
I think it does,
people look brighter,
dogs bark louder,
things look better,
Ah, rain come again tomorrow!

To Oxford that I shall never see

I dreamt,
and it was madness.
The dream started young,
a dream so beautiful,
full of literature and poetry,
of Thames I dreamt sitting by Wang chhu,
I couldn't share the dream,
for everyone thought it was madness,
and madness it was,
and this madness drove my thoughts,
thousands of miles,
it perhaps met Shakespeare's soul there, or Elliot's,
it is still a dream,
and the madness is wearing out,
of people I have begged,
and people do sound sympathetic but its my dream,
they wouldn't care,
and never have I wanted the evil money so much,
never, never before,
nor do I crave for more,
for I know all this is for the plants I grew up with,
they talk to me,
I can feel them and it hurts to see them deplete and burn,
logs and logs burn,
and my heart burns with it,
this is madness I know,
like that 10,300 km on the road was not enough,
the fourty days in the car,
madness is wearing out,
I am growing older,
But I still do not understand the world,
am sure none do, but all pretend to,
of death I wait,
I am not even scared
and hopefully
it will be a mad death.
Amen!

Faces of Trees

It is a desire of every human heart to live till, and experience old age. Trees are no different; they too have life and they too would like to experience the bliss of longevity.“Man-kind” has made this world his kind only; giving little importance to nature and environment which actually supports this world. Deforestation of tress, careless forest fires, logging and other human activities are inhumane to the nature cosmos and this greatly hinders the life span of a tree.

This estranging photograph of a tree found in the Eastern Ghats of India, clearly exemplifies the tree as not only a breathing being but by giving human features to itself, it makes us realize that trees are also “living, feeling” beings. It presents us the face of a tree, the body of an old woman bent with age and yet treading the path of life. This tree is a metaphor for nature, old age and our savage behaviour which has prompted nature to show its face, attracting us and yet estranging us, thereby making us realize its place in this world. There are also lessons to be learnt by us homosapiens; it shows how the young protect the old as seen here in the protection of the old tree by youthful neighbouring twigs and branches. The zest to live life till its last breath is seen in the weathering of the bark, but the tree’s enthusiasm is not dead yet, for the colour on its body is very much vibrant and full of life. This picture does not portray a scenic, conventional beauty of nature but instead this picture is to remind us of the law of individual differences that exists among trees. At the same time how their vigour to live life is similar to ours and how we should not take away their life and let them live, and perhaps in their old age we will see faces of trees like in this one.

As a photographer, what caught my eye was how bewitchingly beautiful the tree was and in my journey from the Himalayas to the jungles of south India, this is one tree that made me realize, trees not only have life but they have an identity too, which often goes unnoticed by an unfeeling being, the so called and proclaimed mammal of higher intelligence, the humans. Humans die, but nature is perpetual, alas,we can no longer say so for we are killing our environment every passing moment and this tree’s howl is one such testimony.

Futurity

She sits there,

her arms wrapped tightly over her knees,

her body at complete ease,

her skin glows a beauteous hue,

the sun amplifying it further,

she feels pulchritudinous.

Then she wonders;

the skin that glows will someday wrinkle,

the face that she sees in the mirror, will disfigure,

in front of her eyes,

the alcohol and the cigarettes, slowing consuming her body,

and her brain, deteriorating, dysfunctioning, and then

what will remain?

The soul that one has never seen,

The body which will go back to the earth,

The mind that dies with the body,

And yet the cycle continues,

the unknown cycle,

and this future is not her alone,

It is for all of us.

Ode to the Mountains

You stand majestically,

clad in green,

barren at some,

at times adorned with white,

purity is your essence.

you never stoop,

never stumble,,

you are born to stand majestically, till eternity.

Seasons come and seasons go,

autumn paints yellow all over,

and winter comes,

snow and you,

earth and heaven,

white and mud red,

the white sinks in you,

makes your red richer,

and when spring sets,

you are greener than never before.

But still you stand,

never budging,

never complaining,

your patience is a virtue-

humans will never learn,

your elegance- no woman can ever compare,

you are THE MOUNTAIN,

the land raised high above,

so high that you divide the earth and the sky,

and yet so low,

that without you,

there is no Home

DUSTBIN

No one hails you,

no one's written poetry about you,

no one loves you,

for you are a trashbag- a dustbin.

But i admire you,

you take in everything,

good or bad,

delicious or rotten,

broken or not,

you take in everything.

But I admire you,

there are lessons you teach,

the humble lesson of acceptance.

You accept what it really is,

you never complain,

you never cry,

you never get angry for what people throw at you,

and after all that endurance,

they still call you a DUSTBIN.

You arn't simply a bin,

you are a collector,

a healer,

you are a teacher,

you are everything but a DUSTBIN.