Popular Posts

Total Pageviews

Thursday, March 10, 2011

One day at the Cremation Ground

As the name suggests, Anyone would have guessed what is coming. Yes, Today morning I was at the Dhuetho of our MD's mother. I had never known her when she were alive but then got to attend her cremation. I was one among many who had come to help the be grieved family.

It was my first time attending a Buddhist cremation and I was curious about the whole affair.

while visitors kept pouring in on our side, on the other end of the crematory a woman was waiting on for fire wood so that they could burn her husband. The man had died this very morning cause of some mouth infection. He was survived by a woman and exactly did not get how many children but his son was there at the edge of the pile of the burning firewood sponsored by others who had come for the same.

While, the monks could be heard reciting prayers, three hearths stood blazing. (As if in competition who would burn faster.)

As many of us stood watching the flames bring down the piles of wood on our side, there were none on that side. It looked empty and unattended. So we decided to walk to that side and pay homage. After some time, the whole of Business Bhutan present there gathered around the fire just talking about what human life is destined for and how everyone who take that place in turns.

On inquiring we found that he was from Samdrup Jongkhar, the same place Ata Tashi was from. As the son fiddled with a long stick poking at the fire, " How strong can he be? I questioned myself. I saw not the slightest sign of tears in his eyes.

We stood there for along time looking at the fire burning and just talking.

But how long, could we stand there, the smoke and the wind made it possible so we drifted away. It took a very long time for the fire to burn down the whole set, we could not have waited till the end. As we led ourselves to have lunch, I peeped from the window just to see the fire still burning and thought to myself, " This is it."

Monday, March 7, 2011

the prodigal daughter

Last Sunday was very unusual. Unlike other days of the week, I woke up at 6:45 am, ( the alarm did not even have to go up). Got myself a nice warm bath and by the time my Aunty called, I was all set. I could see that she wan not prepared for that when she asked, " What happened to you today?"

That was rare. The morning air seemed nostalgic as I ran past to catch a taxi.

Perfect! I reached before the praise and worship got over. I felt an extraordinary feeling grip as I joined the choir group with tears surfacing up till my eye lids. I was feeling like that after along time. I was glad, I did not fall back to sleep like other days.

I had to make some strong confessions and resolutions today(;-) That I am keeping to myself and I am glad I have done that).

We had two speakers from Australia, Scott and Ben that day and like they had known what was relevant to me. As I sat listening to these two great hosts, I could let myself loose and strengthen my beliefs to go ahead with my earlier plans.

Ben, 24 in his sharing reflected that he and most young people have similar mistakes and not to loose faith thinking its the end. Our father would always love us the way the father in the story, the prodigal son and waited for his son to return.

I so wanted to confess and go back to what he always wants me to do. I knew he was there watching over me all the time and must have gone sad. I do not know how I lost the track but the hope that I always have the liberty to go back made it easier.

In the meantime, Scott spoke about God's definition about love and said " The power to love" in us comes from the God himself. He said love is something that grows deep in course of time and of another kind which struggles to live with time.

" Love is not based on feelings or attractions but is a choice to extend your love to another in small and larger ways," he said. " There is no risk of rejection, humiliation and pain," he continued.

As he spoke I could not help nodding my head and when he asked, " How are we to love God?"
a long silence prevailed and the young pastor said, "Simple," Pay it Forward."

The only way in which we can show love to God is by loving one another and that is only way in which we can tell God how much we love him.

Bible says, " If anyone says, I Love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For the person who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God who he has not seen.And we have this command from him: the one who loves God must also love his brother. 1 John 4; 20-21.

There are so many commendable things in the book that every time, I open, I have the answers to all my woes and doubts. I need not go to anyone nor consult a expert. Every Sunday, is a Sabbath day http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sabbath for us and I am on my way back.

I know, my father is waiting on me, just like the father who waited for his son to return. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parable_of_the_Prodigal_Son

those Suppandi days

After going through an array on RIP Uncle Pai online, I was talking to a friend, a young chap and realised that he doesn’t know who uncle Pai was. I was taken back.

Referring to characters: Suppandi, Tantri the Mantri, Kalia –the crow, Shikari Shambu and son on, I asked, if he read ‘Tinkle’ and he replied, “No.”

His reasoning to it was that he was born in a digital era and I could relate to it immediately as I have seen my brothers glued to play station or glued to Facebook.

It was true. A flash back to the days when I was studying in Lungtenzampa surfaced in my head.

It used to be so fun going through Suppandi, a village simpleton who always misunderstood the commands of his master, the adventures of the lazy Shikari Shambu , who always ran from troubles but ended up becoming a hero. Tantri the Mantri’s tactics to replace Raja Hooja backfiring, Ramu and Shambu, the two identical twins who always wore checked shirts and shorts. It happened to me and why it happens were always fun to read.

The cover was always inviting and there were times when I used to quickly go through Suppandi features when the shopkeeper was not looking. (It used to happen mostly when I did not have enough money to buy it.)

Nu 25 seemed a lot of money then and special issues of Tinkle which came for Nu 50 always a catch but due to budget constraints, we resolved to borrowing and lending.

It was worth sacrifices on the pocket money. It was with me when I ate and spent hours reading it in the rest room.

These characters were a part of my school days. I assume that most of these generations’ kids have missed that part.

However, it never caught my attention to know-how it was created and who was behind the colourful stories. Of course, I knew the name but had felt the importance to see how he looked like.

And Until I heard of his death, I collected myself to google his image and reflected how this humble looking man used to be a part of my childhood days.

Now I know, he was from Kerala and how intelligently he had blend Indian history into narrative after he learnt that students were bad in history. He used to love children but never had his own.

He has left behind his wife alone and many like me wondering who would take his mission forward.

Rest in Peace Uncle!!

Read the edited version @ http://www.businessbhutan.bt/?p=4888