In Gorkha Dress With Our Bhutanese Kids

At Tenzing Sherpa's Park, Darjeeling Zoo

My Forestry Family At Darjeeling

Great Khasi Warriors of All Time

Black Hat Dance At Drametse Monastery

Taking The Evils Out Of The Courtyard

The Parade of Monks Chasing Evils

Together We Fight, Evils Always Loss

The Warriors Celebrate Victory Aginst Evils

He Makes Sure That Evils Don't Return

One Two And Three, We Are Next

Gather Your Men, Begin Your Mission

Make Sure You Have The Arms

Make Sure Your Arms Works

Thank God,We won Battle of Our Life


Life, Death and Rebirth

This piece of writing is not an endeavor to craft my memoirs with invented tales or preach religion to the planet by exemplifying my babyhood accounts. It was my contemplation that this writing would to some extend make the readers believe in death and rebirth rather than gluing into a concept of single lifetime and clinging into heavenly pleasures or habituating yourself in wrongdoings. Otherwise, to enlighten on theories of death and rebirth, I ought to dig heaps of spiritual manuscripts or meditate for eons chasing the trail of Prince Siddhartha which may perhaps be not destined in my current lifetime. Forget about my big talks on death and rebirth, I am not in the state to properly justify that why the memoirs of past lives like in dreams appears only during the babyhood and never can it be recalled when aged, except by Bodhisattvas. When cited about remembrance of past lives during early ages, some readers may get confused that why not every person is gifted with such merits. In this case, I’m not the right person to shed light on to your doubt, may be you get spiritual advice from concerned individuals.

Let me not deflect from my points, and allow me to outlet the narration of my babyhood to exemplify the dead and rebirth in simplest mode as far as possible. I was born in male metal horse year of lunar Bhutanese calendar in remote hamlet of Korphu during the time when a number of civilians were slaughtered by some rebellious group of people claiming to be southern Bhutanese. May be the timing I stepped into the world was premature since my birth coinciding hundreds of bloodshed was an omen to show that my past lifetime’s mission of practicing dharma has reached to closing stages. This statement is however my own assumption and should it not necessarily mean to be true, may be the spiritual tutors have their own opinion in this regard.

According to my grandfather (see the Photographs inserted), during my early ages I used to declare that I am a Buddhist monk from Trongsa Choekhor Rabtse Monastery. When young, locals tease me by the name ‘Gyalong’ for the reason that I used to be always clothed in saffron shawl to embody a monk’s robe.  It was in mid 1990’s when I was taken to Trongsa (the place linked to my past life) by my family to attend funeral of my uncle ‘Gyembo Mani’ who passed away during the most awful bus accident in the history of Semtokha School of Language and Culture,  killing many sons and daughters from the corners of Bhutan. During the occasion, though infantile I cried while spotting a man riding on scooter which was supposed to be mine in the past life. Though having spotted my past life’s belonging and relative (man riding on scooter), I was not destined to meet them since my present family ignored, may be the timing was not good as they were in grief for having lost my uncle.

If truth be told, presently I don’t remember whether I declared myself as a monk or not and I’m certain that it’s too late for me to recall the past life again for I’ve graduated my high school from Trongsa but during my stay I never had hallucination of my past life. During babyhood, the memoirs of past life are seen to overlap with current life may be because the baby’s life stage is close to previous life or his mind is crystal clear, not like the mind of adults that had been wrapped by dust of sins and self absorbed desires.

In my birth horoscope, it was in black and white that I will be able to carry on my dharma practice in near future. So, while studying in my primary grades, I was determined to join the monastery. But my father gave me word that I shall only enter into monk body after having graduated high school in view of the fact that a child cannot cope with the discipline of monastery. Today, though completed my high school I failed to accomplish what had been prophesied since at some stage of my studies ‘Romeo and Juliet’ turn out to be so popular that today I’m father of a child. Even if I’m not fortunate to continue my life as a monk, I shall remember ‘Death & Rebirth’ and as a lay man practice dharma to peacefully prepare the death and return back into the planet changing my current flesh to continue my mission of practicing dharma as a monk. This is what Reincarnation means, and by definition it not necessarily means that the phenomenon happens only with spiritual masters.

“Readers may kindly forgive me for the grammatical errors made during the time of narration” 


Tale of Mysterious Dead

It was during the late June, when a group of people made a consolation visit in a house where two children died mysteriously. The house is located in the isolated woodland over the hill top. It was observed to be covered by grasses and bushes, giving disillusioned view. When asked, the mother of deceased kids mourned, “Forget about cleaning the surroundings, I was not even having a minute to spare for my kids whom otherwise would not have been dead.” She was mother to six but has no husband because of which her daily earnings turned inadequate to run the house. To lessen the complication in managing house by the lone bread earner, the eldest son and a daughter left the home in search of their destiny. The daughter was said to be married while the son renounced the world by entering into monk. However, the situation at home was not improving even after having reduced members to be nurtured by her. Therefore to get some additional source of income, she took a father of her two younger kids to district court.

The visitors could not conceal their tear when the climax of the story was revealed. The two deceased kids, one who is four years old and other just 2 years old were said to be locked from outside during day hours. The mother would only return late night from work and when drunk, she wouldn't reach home. The routine continued for years since she was left with no other alternatives or hiring a babysitter would only mean to add more expenses. It was difficult to survive such prolonged captivity but they lived to tell the tale of their survival by eating partially cooked meal prepared by the four year old daughter. However, the survival story was short lived when the two kids died mysteriously on the same day of late June month. 

No sooner the news was reported, a batch of police was joined by a doctor for the postmortem of the dead bodies. The postmortem report revealed that consumption of poison was the cause for such tragic dead. “I hardly stay at home during day hours in search of bread, so for what purpose shall I keep any sort of poison at home. My kids were the dirt in the eye of world, so gods know who liberated them permanently from my prison?” cried the mother while giving testimony to the police. Poisons are seen at home only to kill rats, fleas or other wise used by cattle owner as a medicine, but the double roomed house has no other basic obligatory items so how would a poison be kept carelessly to be only consumed by the kids. Some visitors also found the remains of food cooked out of rice which was said to be vomited by the kids before dying. This was evidence to suspicious plot because the statement of mother says that for the past one week they are in shortage of maize stock, forget about of the rice. 

In whatever manner the kids died it was not for sure an accident. But whoever committed such brutal offence, the blind and deaf law was helpless to dig out the truth since there was no witness or evidence to prove any one as guilty. The world can only suspect the offender but cannot prove, so just waiting for the case to be closed.

Some would argue that out of six children, I talked only about four children in the above narration and the rest has no role play. In this case, I would say that one was a third grade student who was looked after by a monk (uncle). The other, died of disease one year ahead at the same timing corresponding to the death of two poisoned kids.

The above story was ended mysteriously with no proper conclusion, but it is anyhow a true story which went unnoticed by rest of the humankind and media. The exact timing of the story and the name of the village and people involved are not mentioned because I am writing this story without any legal permission. Be it new or old, story shall be forgotten but never it shall be forgiven. Such are the story in the corners of our nation highlighting the demerits of being under poverty line. At this point I shall leave open ended forum to all the readers, and pardon me for all the grammatical mistakes I made at the time of narration.