Archive for May 2007

I Just Dream

May 28, 2007

This is a sick world.

Somewhere, people kill each other for some so-called cause. Somewhere, people die of famine. War, famine, calamity, disease…What are we, people, what are we doing?

You may say I’m a fool.

I dream of a perfect world. I dream of peace. I know the road I’m on doesn’t lead me there, but I’ll keep on dreaming…


Blue Sky, White Clouds

May 28, 2007

These feelings that do visit me sometimes cannot be morally sown nor can it be ethically reaped. Oh, glorious! How often do we wake up to a clear blue sky and feel as free as the floating clouds?

Death is not a mistake. Life is.

Sample of life can be found in traces – all over my face – a life I lived in perpetual pain, pain that tells tale of woes and shame.

Single life. Countless deaths. How do I live them all? How must I leave?

Tender as a bud, joys disappear as soon as it blooms. Beauty, so transient, so trivial, so insignificant, what for do I live this life?

Gates opened, why am I afraid to walk through?

There it is, my end, your end, our end. I can see it. I can feel it.

I tried to understand life. I understood death. Death knew me. A fair bargain. A fair bargain.

Once a king, I’m a beggar now. What’s a beggar if not for his boundless wish to be a king? Yet, so he dies, along with his wishes. No one remembers him. Nor must he be remembered. A social cyst, a disgrace to his family, he must well be forgotten as we forget the ashes that we cast away into a river of oblivion.

At last! At last do I feel free – freedom without ends, yet with a price. Have I not paid them all?

There, there, as clouds in the clear blue sky, I wander aimlessly, clear as the blue sky.

What about these feelings? Why do I feel them? These feelings that seem to break me apart, that disjoints the very purpose of my existence?

So must it come. So must I leave, mere garbage in the universe.

So be it…

A Man from the Fortress

May 25, 2007

Now who could that be? No, let me, dear wife…

Oh! What a pleasant surprise! Kuzuzangpo la, Dasho. Welcome…welcome…please sit down. Sorry, we don’t have a better seat…heh heh heh…

Yes, Dasho? Sorry, I’m a little hard of hearing…yes, we are well.

Prepare something, dear wife. Yes, warm the ara…yes, eggs too. Prepare some meal. Yes, fry some cheese…yes, okay…

We’re blessed, Dasho, with your visit. You should have told us…yes, Dasho, this year the harvest looks promising, because of your gracious visit…heh heh heh…

Yes, yes, yes, Dasho…uh, thank you, Dasho, thank you very much.

Oh, she’s our daughter. Zangmo, Dasho, we call her Zangmo…yes, she’s a student. Er, class ten…right, Zangmo? Yes, class ten Dasho.

Please, have some ara, Dasho. No, no, you must drink some…here, you must Dasho…though it’s not so good.

Heh heh heh…it’s not so good, Dasho. Some shakam, Dasho. Yes, my wife just brewed it today. Thank you, Dasho. I don’t know…yes, I drink sometimes…okay, Dasho.

Give me a cup…no, the bigger one…heh heh heh…I’ll just drink a cup, I promise…heh heh heh…

Yes, Dasho? Oh, we are old now, Dasho. Oh…she’s sixte – seventeen…ha ha ha…no, Dasho, she’s not pretty…Yes? Oh…yes, Dasho. Yes…Yes…Okay, Dasho…heh heh heh…yes, okay…Dasho…

Some food, Dasho? No, no, you must eat something. We insist. How can we let Dasho leave without offering anything? Please, Dasho…it may not be delicious. Some more ara, Dasho…No, I am done…It’s okay, Dasho, I’ll pour myself…he he he…

Leaving already, Dasho? Yes, it’s Dasho. No, no…we don’t need anything. Please, take back…er, yes, Dasho. No, it’s too much, more than too much. Er, we shouldn’t have accepted this…anytime, yes, okay, no I won’t forget Dasho, heh heh heh…

Close the door, Zangmo and go inside…

Yes? Er, one thousand…yes. Dasho wants her tonight. Er, go tell her. How can I? Oh! How can I ever show my face tomorrow?

Tell her, not to be afraid and all…can you, dear wife? How can we? You know how Dasho is…he’ll kill us! Tell her not to worry…Oh! What am I saying? Er, I’ll go to our neighbour’s house…yes, it was his daughter yesterday…no, I am not hungry…no, I won’t drink. Er, maybe a little? Heh heh heh…

Oh, bring me my rosary. I will be back soon…

Om A Hung Benza Guru Pedma Siddhi Hung…
Om A Hung Benza Guru Pedma Siddhi Hung…
Om A Hung Benza Guru Pedma Siddhi Hung…

The Lost Self

May 23, 2007

This is bad, you grunt,
this time you’re right.

Colours, pale and dull – lifeless too,
your past’s just a flux,
you do not understand though,
you do not even remember…

You watch them, random faces,
singling out some,
you try to find yourself –
lost and buried in the crowd –
you do not find,
you just look blankly,
without purpose or emotion…

Of Bellies and Double Chins

May 22, 2007


Yes, respect you say and live in its shadowy expectations. I know you will do anything to earn other people’s respect. I know you desire more than you deserve. What? You didn’t hear me? That’s all right.

What do I live for? Well, I don’t know. Not for respect, for sure. I just live. No reasons. No strings attached, as some of you say. Yet, I don’t even have the willingness to live. I live as life permits me to live. Yes, I know it’s strange. Vain? You think so? Maybe I am vain…but I hate philosophical questions. I hate politics. I hate religious sanctions. Yes, even social norms too.

How do I feel? Well, I don’t feel anything. I don’t think so much as to dissect my consciousness. Thoughts and feelings, what are they? Useless, don’t you think?

But there you are, encapsulated in worldly glories – maybe beyond that too. You think pain is a nuisance, suffering a mistake, death dirty and rude. You would rather live in peace and snore in destitude. You want to live life to the fullest. So you say. Or even beyond that too.

No, I don’t envy you. Why must I? Yes, I wish I could possess some of your traits. Like your belly – acquired through long hours of work in the civil service. I wish I had your intelligence, yes your quailfications too. I should have cultivated such noble aura that surround you, coupled with your ability to propagate your masterly hands in the government’s wealth. But these are not envy, mind you.

Yet, why must I seek those glories that you seem to enjoy in full? A poor man, I’m just as I am. Pain and suffering is my choice to live. I don’t complain. I understand life, not how to live it. A mere shadow of a grain of dust in the vast cosmos, I would rather be forgotten as soon as the shadow disappeared. Why must I want a monument in my name of all things? Why should I want to be remembered in timeless ages to come? I don’t want any of these…

Yet, there you are, deserving – and desiring too – all the glories of the universe. Let’em erect a golden monument in your honour. Let’em build copper statue of you. You’ll look good, especially your monumental belly and your double chin. Yes, I know, you look good because of them. Let people cry when you are gone. Don’t worry, they will…even if they don’t, I’ll hire hundreds or even thousands to cry for you. Yes, just for you. They’ll sing and dance in your name. I know. No, I don’t have to hire them. They’ll surely sing and dance when you’re gone. Yes, I’m sure…

Girls, young and beautiful, love you. So you say. Yes, you love them too. You can do anything to love them. You did, many times. Yes, they are like your own children. I know. Ha ha ha ha…

Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. No, I didn’t laugh at you. Yes? Oh…you can call me anything you like. Yes, sir, call me a madman or a pest…it doesn’t matter to me – at all. I would rather be mad or a pest than any other thing. He he he…I know.

Oh, must you leave?

Gone? Such fine geltleman! He he he…

Life – a Short Fable

May 19, 2007

Based on a true rumour…

She was numb with pain.

‘when?’ She thought desperately.

She looked around for her husband. She felt too dizzy to see anything.

There is no greater pain than this, she thought. She concentrated for one last breath, for one last ‘push’, the last of her strength loosening her very existence. She gathered up all the pains and concentrated on a single point, a point so minute and charged that she screamed hoping to destroy the pain.

How many hours? She could not remember. But at long last, she felt a surge of relief, but she was too numb to feel any comfort.

She smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks as she heard her baby cry. What joys! She felt love, tender and true, that she kept crying until she heard a thud and the crying of a baby stopped.

She looked at the nurse with horror and fainted.

Later, a doctor had signed on a medical form, ‘Still born…’

She wept silently in her husband’s arms…

That World, His World

May 19, 2007

‘Ha ha ha…’

‘What’re you laughing at?’

‘Er, sorry…it’s just that everything seems funny.’

‘Funny? How?’

‘Look around you…look at the people, the world, look at the way we live…don’t you think it’s funny?’

‘I wouldn’t say that…anyway, don’t you have parents?’

‘Of course I do. What do you think? I’m born of a lotus? Ha ha ha…’

‘But why do you do it?’

‘It’s fun…and it takes away my pains.’

‘What do your parents say?’

‘What will they say? They don’t like me anyway. I’m just a product of their pleasures, desires…a product best done away with…’

‘You are young. I think you should stop and think about your life…’

‘Well, this is my life, it seems…’

‘Don’t want to live like the rest of us?’

‘What for? How do you live anyway?’

‘I think you should stop indulging in those substances…’

‘Maybe I will…one day…but for now? This is my only solace…’

‘I think you should…’

‘Stop it! And get out of here…leave me alone!’