To Teach and Learn

My son loves ghost stories. I try my best with the few ghost stories that I know and when I run out I have to create them. Most of the time before I finish a story he falls off to sleep but there was one story that we were able to finish. Image from www.ramayanainfo.blogspot.com Dangphu   dingphu… there lived a demon. He had ten heads. The demon, Doe as we Bhutanese know it, was very strong and intelligent and it was all because he had ten heads. He could think ten times faster than an average demon and all his senses were ten times stronger and clearer than other demons. He had long hair on all his heads. He had fangs in all his ten mouths. He had ten pairs of bulging bloody eyes and ten pairs of huge sharp ears. Strong and powerful as he was yet these powers came with unbearable itches that his heads underwent every moment of his life. He did the best he could to get rid of the problem but every remedy failed to redeem him from his troubles. Tak...

Image from www.lisagetz.blogspot.com The first spoons were of gold, forged in the heavenly blue fires of the Gods (Lha). Men were brute then and dinning manners unknown. Happy as the Gods were beholding man, it deeply troubled them to watch a man feed. Thus, the Gods counseled among themselves to resolve this brutish eating manner and gifted the first of their spoons to the first kings of men. Beings from all the realms witnessed and glorified the Gods for their noble deed. But not everyone was with the same mind and heart. Some disapproved of man's worthiness and claimed the civil hand for themselves secretly fearing the Gods' wrath if they openly laid their claim. The desire lurked like the long dark shadows of the deep woods and drew darker and stronger lines with the light from the godly moon. Image from www.pureinsight.com The  Lhamoens ( Lesser Gods)  were the feistiest and fiercely nurtured their desire to lay their hands on the spoons. It was they who defied...

One year ago I was at the Tata Medical Center in Kolkata. My grandfather was not well. As I was sitting in the waiting room, I saw a familiar face. She was my student from two years ago. I taught her English. There was the usual ‘Hi’ and ‘Hello’. She was studying in Kolkata and she was in the hospital because her stepmother was sick with cancer. As we went on talking her elder sister joined us and she introduced me. With my name she added, “… my sir who always talks about his wife whom I mentioned…”   After saying what she said, Choden (my student) felt awkward or that was what I read on her face. But I thanked her for remembering me as a person who loves his wife (some students, I feel, think I am obsessed with my wife). Now, two weeks ago thirteen teachers from my school attended the workshop on “Educating for GNH”. One of the pertinent reminders was on Role Modeling. They said, “Teachers are remembered not for what they taught but for how/what they were.” ...

Picture by Botho, my sister The sky from the window looked somber my father said. He had fallen asleep after a glass of ara on that Sunday afternoon. He was alone as we were at Thimphu that winter.   The room had become dark except for the shade of light that fell on the floor, which shone from the streetlight and the moon outside. He stretched and got up to get out of bed. As he got up, a man was facing him standing in front of him in his bedroom. He could not make out the features. The room was dark. The man glared at him, they stood watching each other for some time. My father said all he felt at that moment was sheer cold fear. The hair at the back of his neck rose in bumps. His heartbeat in his head and he could hear the beating wild and fast. Words choked in his throat and he couldn't speak. He said it was like an invisible hand throttling him as he gasped for air.   It lasted like it seemed for hours. Slowly he tried to push himself out of bed an...

You are so beautiful that Even the roses envy your loveliness. Like a blissful creature bestowed upon man. To teach him of worship, You have come to me. Your eyes shine so vivid That even the stars shy away and The creator himself with bliss Carved your face. Your kiss is sweeter than the sweetest nectar That I say; ‘O sweet Nalaypem, make me immortal with a kiss’ . Fortune has favoured me   With your eyes guiding me. I now m grateful for its bounty Of delivering you to me. If Shakespeare were to write a poem on you, He would have done so that it would make me envious. But he would have found no word Beauteous enough to label you. For you are far sweeter than frail Juliet, Far bolder than Portia and far beautiful than Helen. You are to me what I ever wanted in love. My passion has come alive with you, To make my human flesh Godly and good, Capable of love that is to bloom. ‘O sweet Nalaypem I love thee much....

Grateful for the space!

Have you ever heard the riddle, " Why do girls hiss when they piss?" .....................no?..........may be some of you have and may be thinking............. that's easy ........or.............some of you may be thinking.......... wait I know the answer ... what is it? what is it? what is it? ........and some of you may be saying "Girls hiss when they piss because they don't have silencer pipe like boys! Ha Ha"  Courtesy- cheekychick.hubpages.com Courtesy - clipartof.com Well I don't know how many of you will believe me but I created this riddle back in the winter of 2002, when I finished my class twelve. Yes, today I would like to own it officially on my blog. If there is any one who claims the same, you are always welcome to challenge me. You may do so by writing in my comment box and I will respond to validate my claim.