Archive for November 2009

Off Air

November 19, 2009


Who is Kundun?

November 15, 2009

Kundun! He shouted and walked towards me. I saw reverence and admiration in his eyes. Tears too.

What do you want? I would have said. I said nothing.

Kundun, I found you at last!

I’m not Kundun. Who is Kundun anyway?

Don’t play that trick with me. I found you once. I’ll not let you go this time. Kundun!

Who’s Kundun?


Me? I don’t even know what it means!

Haha…don’t play that game of yours.


You’re from Tibet, right?

No…I’m from Bhutan.

Close enough.

Look mister, I don’t know who you – ?

Kundun! At last I’ll die in peace! Please empower me, purify me, help me cross the ocean of Samsara…liberate me.

But I’m not Kundun…who’s Kundun anyway? Excuse me.

So I left. I could feel his teary eyes following me, his face frozen in some smiles. All I could think was, who’s Kundun?

Then I knew. I laughed.

Shadows of questions

November 13, 2009

To hell with philosophy!

He was an angry man. Angry man is not a reasonable man. Reasonable man is religious.

He thew a copy of Za Patrul Rinpoche’s Words of my Perfect Teacher right to my face and demanded I studied them to perfect my devotion towards a teacher. Who that teacher was I never knew. He did not tell me.

Next thing I knew, I copied some passages from the book and pasted on the wall – a reminder that I must study the book. Instead I ended up reading Nietzsche’s Thus Spake Zarathustra. I thought I was understanding the book when a question struck me.

Why do I do this? I thought without definite answer. I did not want any answer. I just asked because someone said wise man asked questions, the unasked ones. But mine was asked and unasked by so many minds – both sane and insane. I was not a wise man.

I doubted my master’s anger. I doubted so many of his temperements, even his smiles and kindness.

One day he called me into his chamber and told me to go away.

Where? I wanted to know.

It’s upto you. He said, smiling.

I left, hurt and lost.

So many questions. No answers.

The Nose

November 5, 2009


I remember there was something wrong with a nose. Whose nose, I do not remember, but it was somebody’s nose. Maybe my nose. I do not remember.

The nose was there, yet it seemed it was not there. No eyes, no mouth…just a nose. Even the face was not there.

What’s wrong? I heard a voice ask that sounded like cat.

Nothing. I chuckled. Did I laugh?

There’s no nose, is there? The voice of the cat continued.

Yes, there is. But I don’t see anything beside the nose.

Huh? The cat voiced. Nose, eh? How come I don’t see a nose but a face?

I don’t know. I said.

But where’s your nose? The cat meowed.

Right here. I said, pointing to my nose.

Then, what is this in my hands. Said the voice that sounded like cat showing me a nose.

It was my nose.