What I do 24/7

“Hey! wake-up!“ I hear my friend's voice. “And please snooze or turn off the alarm clock.” How funny it is when you fail to notice determinedly set alarm, almost every morning. It may be funny up to some limit but not if it becomes my habit. Instantly I slip my hand to stop alarm (feeling quite irritated). Another interesting thing I am going through is when I extend my sleep for a minute or five and end up snoring another one hour. Honestly if you're still going through my kind of a situation, be careful. Any ways, I will walk you to another journey of my life which is also part of my daily routine.

Exactly I've thirty minutes for the breakfast after the study; which begins from four past half to six o'clock in the early morning. It takes four minutes to reach mess when I walk fast otherwise entire one thousand eight hundred second will not be sufficient for the slow walker.

Gaen-dru-cho-ni Lhakhang on my way to mess.

On the way to mess I get to circumambulate Gaen-dru-cho-ni Lhakhang which serves six class rooms and a office too.

Dinning hall. 

Hardly it takes fifteen minutes to stand in queue, eating, washing of plates and in other miscellaneous activities. With my filled tummy I am already in front of dukhang when the conch is blown.

 Monks blowing conch shell. 

I sit for one hour and fifteen minutes in the morning prayer. After prayer, I am obliged to reach my morning class i.e., first period. Every session is melodiously introduced by briefing on how rare is to get human birth and why we should rejoice for getting it.

 Hostel, and classroom at the right end. Debate is also
 conducted in this courtyard.

We are repeatedly taught to serve others in order to serve ourselves. It is the only place I am being taught to study my-self. After a tea break for half an hour, second class will begin at nine past half. For another one hour I become an enthusiastic listener, enjoying the sacredness of every word not knowing how class finishes like a dream. Before going for the lunch I've another one hour to remain in the room and do self study; revising can be effective. 

After taking a hefty lunch (11:30/12:00 a.m. to 1:30 p.m.) I can think of nothing other than a siesta. Another one and half hour from one past half will be invested into learning other than academic session. It can be learning of cymbal, dhung chen, conch-shell, Tibetan trumpet and other ritual related things. There's another half an hour break for afternoon tea. When a second hand tick three past half, it is a time for the self study until the next gong.

 Towards Khar-Sum-Pa after 17th summer
 retreat lead by Venerable Chophel Jamthso.

A sonorous sound will be heard indicating us to assemble for the debate which will be for one and half hour. Initially, I had a tough time in understanding basic rules of a debate & yet I've a thousands of miles to travel just to learn debate let alone  other sacred teachings. Debate is also a pillar to upgrade knowledge by sharing with friends. Doubts can be cleared too. Although there are several reasons I'm unable to mention everything, pardon me.

Dinner will be served at six and evening prayer after thirty minutes. Evening prayer is to please deities. We pray for the protection of every beings. 

Evening study beings from eight past half. Then I find a time to completely rest and recharge my body to reignite next morning for the same schedule.

Morning & evening prayer hall. 

In Conversation with a Monk Who Left Worldly Life in His 40s

Life is uncertain. We know it. Life teaches us lesson to escape this samsara but only few are wise enough to understand. Rest of us are hooked in attachment. Recently I met a friend by the name of Kinzang Dorji. Kinzang is currently a monk at Kharchu Monastry, PP-grade, and he is 43 years old. He was born in Trashigang and later settled at Umling in Sarpang after his father retired from army. Kinzang is a divorcee and has three children who are all studying in school. Earlier he also served in Royal Bhutan Army (RBA) for about 7 years and voluntarily resigned in 2006. After that he worked as security guard under Army Welfare Project (AWP) for few years. Knowing impermanence of life he decided to start spiritual journey. 

Like everyone of us Kinzang too has a story to share. I am not writing to expose or defame anyone, including himself. Indeed it is a consensual one. Ever since he disclosed me, I've always wanted to share his interesting life story in brief. 

Kinzang Dorji during study hour

Me: Why did you decided to become a monk?

Kinzang: Um, first let me thank you for taking time and writing about me. That is interesting and difficult question. It is a long story, I can tell you in a nuts shell. (Long breathing.)

Me: Please continue.

Kinzang: Frankly Speaking, I was an alcoholic husband. Everything started from alcohol and my addiction for it. (he paused in hesitation.) There was no single day without alcohol and yet I didn't realise I was with a disease of alcoholism. By the time I realised my own addiction, I found myself in the hospital. Experiencing the worst effect of alcohol I wanted to completely quit but I couldn't. Even knowing my worst situation I continued drinking. I got kicked out of my own home. Fade up, my wife issued a divorce paper. I chose alcohol over family and wandered from one place to another.

Me: Ok.

Kinzang: I reached Thimphu and worked in constructions since I know basic masonry and carpentry. In Thimphu, I did detoxification twice and that's when doctor, knowing my background history, wanted to sent me for a rehabilitation centre. I was introduced to Chithuen Phendhey Association (CPA). I owe them, especially Tshewang Tenzin, Executive Director. From there I was sent to Paro rehab for 3 months where my expenses were beard by CPA. Apparently It was rehab that groomed me become who I'm today. Without support from a people thereof I might have lived beggar’s life or else died in accident somewhere. After staying three months in rehab, everyone is expected to change both physically and mentally. I too decided to start my new life. To start a new life, nothing came into my mind but to live a simple life. I saw it in a monastic life. Sobriety is peace.

Me: Was it hard leaving behind your family, friends and worldly affairs?

Kinzang: No-no. Actually I am fade up with worldly affairs. Sorry to be too dramatic, it is a fact that everything is suffering. When I was denied to meet my children, I lost value of having a family. Not even a single friends consoled me during my pathetic condition, I lost trust in friendship. Recently I found everything; family and friendship in a monastic life, providing me a new world.

In front of Monastry 

Me: What's the hardest thing about being a monk?

Kinzang: Ah. I think it's okay to be in discipline and improve instead of wandering in the streets like a gypsies. When I compare my lay life and monastic life, I have achieved enormous energy of being human in the latter. But if I've to pinpoint, memorising is the hardest thing for me. Whatever I studied in the morning, I forget in the evening. Otherwise there's nothing to complain. (Smiles.)

Me: What's the most enjoyable part of  being a monk?

Kinzang: Another interesting question. Being a monk making others happy is an enjoyment. Every morning when I wakeup I see myself alive for one more day and that's enjoyable for me, I can continue with my Dharma.

Me: Do you ever feel an urge to return to lay life?

Kinzang: Not at all. I never dream about it (laughs.)

Me: Would you like to share anything that we didn't cover?

Kinzang: I don't have any special message. I want to say, please do not waste precious human life simply into enjoyment. If you're unproductive nobody will love you. Be a productive person, even unknown will held you high. Life doesn't end until and unless you accept the challenge as failure.

To err is human;  to forgive, divine. We are down to improve through mistakes. One might be going through hard time in overcoming an addiction. That's okay. You make yourself tough enough to prove who you're. You will surely win. Accept criticism in life for it is the driver of your life. There will be a time when nothing will work as per the way you want. You just console yourself before any kind of odd situation overtakes like mine. There is only one great thing of all and it's ‘you’. Value you, love you, care you and rest will go smoothly.

Last but not the least, I want to share Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo's:

དལ་འབྱོར་རྙེད་དཀའ་ཐོབ་པ་ད་རེས་ཙམ། །

daljor nyé ka tobpa daré tsam

Now I have this unique opportunity, a free and well-favoured human form, so difficult to find.

མི་རྟག་འཆི་བ་ནམ་འོང་ཆ་མ་མཆིས། །

mitak chiwa nam ong cha machi

But it will not last forever; death can come at any moment,

འཁོར་བ་གང་དུ་སྐྱེས་ཀྱང་སྡུག་བསྔལ་རྒྱུ། །

khorwa gangdu kyé kyang dukngal gyu

And wherever I am born in saṃsāra, it is a cause for suffering;

དགེ་སྡིག་ལས་ཀྱི་རྒྱུ་འབྲས་བསླུ་བ་མེད། །

gedik lé kyi gyundré luwamé

Whether my actions are virtuous or harmful, karma’s cause and effect cannot be escaped.

ཐར་ལམ་ཐོབ་པ་བླ་མའི་ཐུགས་རྗེས་ཟུངས། །

tarlam tobpa lamé tukjé zung

O lama, hold me with your compassion, so that I find the path to liberation!

Confession #1

I have a privilege of meeting my old friends every weekends via social network. Thank you technology for easing life of fellow human beings and simplifying workload which benefits a lazy person like me. Our conversation would start sharing about gone moments and would laugh heartily but let me be frank, the intensity of laugh is not as powerful as it used to be. Why? I am not sure but it happens and happened. I noticed. Any ways I believe, it is nothing but a part of change and change is necessary, if one of you've never enjoyed it. However I'm some what guilty to get praise from a friends for I've done nothing worth to receive praises. "You must be lucky to have such a life," they expressed while some even told me that I must be a kind hearted person too. Sorry I cannot define how lucky I am but surely I'll tell you how 'kind' I was & I'm. 

At a tender age of six I started hunting pheasants and this happened more than a score of years ago in a remote village of Phu, it means a mountain in our dialect. My two friends were expert hunter and knew every kind of tricks to catch pheasants. In the jungle we kept a trap in several directions expecting at least one trapped, next day. We would collect a cup of rice, vegetable oil, if possible, chilli and go for a picnic after every score. I was cruel but I was also innocent  during those stage of life. Innocent? Of course, innocently committed sin.

Few years later our family migrated to Gelephu upon receiving new land, as a second resettlement group, in 1998. By then, I was only eight years old. It was a different story being a poor and in a new place with people from different ethnic. Perhaps I was mentally shaped in such environment to become even more cruel than before? I don't remember when did I began but I must have killed thousands of fishes. If you ask me which method I haven't used, it would be uninvented one otherwise my cruelty had no boundary. I used umbrella ribs, mosquito nets, hook, battery and used other method that is not favourable to mention here. Right after school hour, I would be already in the stream with required fishing stuff. My last fishing was in my early twenties. I was matured then.

Not only this, I even became a bird hunting expert. Back then we used to get catapult even from Gelephu bazaar since neighbouring assamese were allowed freely unlike today. I killed several birds for the sake of enjoyment. I think I contributed in the extinction of birds and fish. Even ecologist would like to punish me let alone my negative karma that awaits for the chance every moment of life. This story of my cruelty doesn't end here. Indeed I've so many but for God's sake let me forget and believe that I was not cruel innately.

Dear friends, by now, you know how 'kind' I was.

From Rooster to Tshed-thar: A Tale of Friendship and Ethical Dilemma

"One beautiful night..." That's how stories usually begin, and this trend would continue in our time. Allow me to share my short narrative in the tradition passed down to us.

One night, perhaps during my fifth-grade year, our group of friends planned a simple celebration as winter approached. After discussing the need for food (and, of course, some drinks), one friend—whose name I've forgotten—suggested chicken. "Chicken!" I thought aloud. "Where would we get it?" I asked. In those days, obtaining chicken wasn't difficult, but we were broke. Despite being the sons of civil servants, their pocket money often vanished on useless things. "Not very difficult," one friend broke the silence, looking at me. "We'll eat the one we've been waiting for since last year." Another friend clapped his hands together and declared, "We'll need to catch and prepare it tonight," he continued, "Tashi, your mom shouldn't find out. If she asks, we'll lie." I nodded, unable to speak a word at first, but I masked my discontent and assured them that my mother had no business interfering with our plans. Soon, we headed to my house to capture the rooster.

A year earlier, the same group of us returned from Kalikhola after a day of winter swimming. We were soaked below the waist, eyes red, and faces dried from hours in the water and sun. Hungry, we always found reasons to swim, often without our parents noticing. Chungku took out Nu. 85, if I remember correctly, and gave it to Ngawang for junk food. Suddenly, someone suggested buying chicken. Ngawang and Chungku ran to a nearby house, while the rest of us eagerly awaited their return. I noticed Chungku smiling, but not Ngawang,who was behind him. "Chick!" I exclaimed. I couldn't fathom what we were doing, or what we would do next. Chungku explained, "Our money isn't enough to buy a grown chicken." He gently placed the chick in his palm, patted it, and said, "The uncle was kind enough to give us this little one to raise until it's grown." I thought to myself, "Hell!" "Tashi, can we raise this at your house?" asked Ngawang, and the others nodded eagerly. "We'll tell your mother it's a Tshed-thar." I didn't object, but I didn't show approval either. I listened to everything they said and managed to convince my mother.

I peered through a hole to check for my mother. She wasn't home, and no one bothered to inform her, even if she had been there. Our collective mission was to find the rooster. I probably knew where the rooster slept, but I followed them, mimicking their actions and hoping to see my friends lose hope. Unfortunately, I didn't notice any of them losing interest. They were doing everything they could to find it. Finally, a friend spotted it on a branch of a small mango tree that had grown in front of our thatched house. My heart sank. I couldn't utter a word that would save the rooster's life. I could only wear the mask they wore. But catching a rooster wasn't as simple as you might think! Hours of chasing were no easy task. My friends were sweating, and some even quarreled over missed attempts. At one point, I took advantage of their exhaustion and suggested we try again the next day. Somehow, the rooster ended up inside the stacked firewood on our ground floor. There was no chance of getting it then. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was all over.

But that wasn't the end. Plan B? We would somehow acquire a chicken that night. So, we decided to sneak into a neighbor's house. I trembled as my brave friends slipped in without a second thought. I was only concerned about how we would escape if caught. Ironically, they returned not with a chicken, but with homemade pickle. "Run!" whispered one, "towards the school." I never once thought about turning back. I can't recall how I made it to the school campus. When I looked back, I was alone. Finding a place to sit, I couldn't help but laugh. A few minutes later, I heard my friends approaching. "What were you guys up to?" I asked in a hushed voice. "Bring it here. Let me taste it," I demanded with a chuckle. "We must try again tomorrow. Let's keep watch during the day. Our chicken is a Tshed-thar; we can't kill it," Ngawang explained. The four of us silently ate the pickle, although that didn't mean we disagreed! It felt like hearing a magical word. Embracing them, I departed as it was already late at night.

I wasn't there for the second night's hunt. I heard they only managed to steal more pickle from the same house. What they did next remains a mystery to me, as well as to you, dear reader. The chance is never zero.

Was this fate or karmic connection? Although we raised the rooster to eat, it ironically earned the title of Tshed-thar. We couldn't bring ourselves to eat it because of a white lie. I believed in the philosophy that intent matters, but in our childhood story, our intentions and reality were contradictory. We intended to kill it, but in the end, we raised it as a Tshed-thar. Our family was awakened every morning by the rooster, replacing the alarm clock of the modern world. Nearly five years later, my mother's acquaintance needed a male chicken for breeding purposes. She gave it away while I was away. The story doesn't end here, but my narration does.

Masked Face

"Lopen you're looking smart." Atsara comfortably sat beside me.

"Who is the most," said I, "you or me?"

"Abviously you," he pondered, "no no. I'm the most."

I requested him for a picture, clearing throat, he immediately granted my simple wish. Indeed he embraced me.

Folks, who has the best mask? We're wearing our own mask, therefore, it is difficult to assume/predict the real truth behind mask. Probably wooden mask and flesh mask are deceptive. What you and I see is not a true revelation to what is hidden inside the two fake faces. We look at atsara with contempt! His role is to entertain and primarily is a laughing stock; without him festival is incomplete? Question is, are we confident that he's meant to be a joker? Or perhaps there's a concealed reason, we don't know. Our life is mixed with a preconceived informations thereby limiting us to know and experience the actual truth. Perceiving things not as they're but as we're is the root cause to our problematic life? I am not sure.

Our assumed perception is like a mask which doesn't expose the true identity.

Life has never been a cup of tea and it never will be. Do not get hope less when things doesn't go your way. Sometimes it is meant to come exactly the way you wanted but from a different way.

Reminder

I was simply sitting, crossed leg, coffee on my hand, and mind loitering uncontrollably. Out of nowhere, I heard a news, of course its shock, at least for me. But then after few minutes, I was trying to analyze the things properly. I could realize how uncertain this human life is. Yet we never keep aware of things for eternity. Whatever happens, it happens and goes away in due course of time. What it matters is a time. This emotion of our changes, no matter even if it is a tragic one.

How many of us are aware of death? Definitely all of us. Every being is afraid of dying. Frankly speaking, even ants try to escape from any external dangers. Fact is not even stone remains as stone. It dies to become a different form and then formation after formation. Oftentimes we are reminded in life. I am sure some of you know. Sad part is most of us are ignorant. So ignorant that we even skip morning alarm.

Human life is too short to experience everything. Perhaps that could be the reason why we are reminded to learn through other’s mistakes. And perhaps that could be the reason why we never get to excel in all the things we attempt. Nonetheless, death is a powerful reminder for us. What would you do if this were your last moment? It could be after reading this line. Would you do what you were doing so far?

Most tragic part is leaving behind our own body; the one you and I have cared from any form of dangers. Aren’t we guest for a night or tenant for a month? Why do we attach to a thing that doesn’t belong to us? Why do we express different emotions? Can’t we stick entirely being happy or sad? We change our emotion and that change has molded us, improving our life. For me death is inevitable. Without death I wouldn’t be who I am. It is death that has always guided me, religiously saying, from eons and eons of years ago. And death shall improve me until I leave this samsara.

Today I gets a reminder upon uncle’s demise, tomorrow it could be anyone. May be I’ll not get another reminder. We don’t know. That’s the fact.

Rest in Peace!

Buddha Face

Few years ago I heard from some people about the face of Buddha on a stone in Wangdue Phodrang. I have been dreaming of visiting it once ever since I heard. Recently I was in search of house for a rent with my friend who is newly recruited as an Inspector of mining under DGM, precisely Department of Geology and Mining at Wangdue. Fortunately we reached to a discussion to visit a Buddha face which is a minute’s walk from the bridge but it can be seen even from a highway which lead to Tsirang. We zoomed towards the cliff. Chencho pointed towards cliff describing components and structural form of face. I could simply see stones dangling above me while he could easily tell me “this is nose, look at eyes, the brow, see how would it look if bush were to weed out from chin area.” Poor me, I was adjusting my eyes only to get an image he was describing. With my perseverance I could find the image, it was so authentic jigsaw done by a nature. An artisan is really going to look in awe for nature has created such an amazing monument.

View from Wangdue-Tsirang Highway

The very moment I had a goose bumps instinctively prickling a thought of wonder. A wonder that might have been stored deep in my subconscious level. I have seen nature’s creation but this is something unique to express. This is a mighty piece of nature’s art lying there millions of years ago, perhaps even before that. Only people with destined fate are to discover such a monument.

Anyone aspiring to visit? It is not difficult. One need not have to climb mountain or cliffs. Simply stop by the Wangdue gate and get help from taxi driver, they will help you for sure.

Close view

I am neither philosopher nor religious minded yet it gave me a lesson to accept everything in life without complaining. One may view Buddha in the form of stone while another may view stone in the form of Buddha. We are seeing the same picture but only the difference is when individual of us judge differently. Encountering different obstacles is not an end but beginning of another mysterious journey. There is always another way to face the problem, in life!

P.s I am posting because of my passion and no other intention.