Thursday, August 01, 2002 - 

 So absolute she seems, and in herself complete, so well to know her  own, that what she wills to do or say seems wisest, virtuousest,  discreetest, best-John Milton. 

Clad in a flamboyant salwar, adorned with a smile-so radiant and tender, almost thin and svelte- a perfect creation she was. I most stumbled to greet her vivid brown eyes. Hi, I am Tanya she said, almost whispering. The softness in her tone pierced my heart deep within as though shot by a cupid arrow and the momentary gaze she gave me ignited wildfire in my veins. 

She was going to take my classes for a fortnight. The first days  passed bywe ran out of words and she spoke far too less. The accidental meetings of our eyes only made us blush. Yet I couldnt  help forcing my eyes on her, and I would often steal moments to take a glimpse. Her hand ran as soft on the papers, and I got chided for loss of concentration. Following days, our closeness grew; we became friendlier and fonder to each other. And each day I found myself obsessed with her thoughts. I had developed a foolish liking for her, wit no definite intentions, no designs. She was a sheer dream girl. And whats more I even succeeded in creating a room for myself in her heart, overcoming the xenophobia in her as well as me. But somehow I felt destiny parted us, with either of us in a wrong place. She was not going to be mine anyway, as endowed with myriad obstacles. The mere imagination only halted my heartbeats. What if I ventured to confess my feelings and she reciprocated ditto. The victory of my undefined love would be trivial. And I was haunted by the obsession that aggressive increase in my feelings would only put us in a vulnerable position, as I was a declared loser. My conscience forced that I ought to disperse her thoughts from my mind, yet it was difficult to plaster the wounded heart.

However the optimism and maturity in me forced me to dissipate her thoughts. Reducing the frequency of our meetings and eventually meeting no more, I forgot her as a dream. I thought, dreams come and go, and this was no exception.

But it indeed was a beautiful dream to cherish 

God forbid war!!!

 Thursday, April 03, 2003 -                            

               Breathtakingly beautiful to the naturalists, serene  to the peace lovers, sacrosanct to the devout this is our country-Bhutan, very well known as The Last Shangri-La. Picturesque verdant valleys surrounded by soaring hills piercing the blue sky, ferns cascading down the tantalizing spurs and the roads snaking in  the green hills 

If only words could slimmer like diamonds, it could have been easier  to describe the depth of beauty of our country. Poetic expressions apart, today I would best describe it as war free zone. Yes, we have no threats to the war in progress, save the oil crisis. Each motor owner is concerned with price hike of fuel. But little do we  realize that, the next moment we scan our TV to retreat from days work with our favourite channels, we are stuck at one channel that shows the devastation of a country, almost our neighbour-the cities  that might have taken years to establish bombed with a single missile  attack, hapless innocent lives being brutally snuffed out, the bereaved wailing, and everyone haunted by macabre of death. What  must be running through their lives? They are humans too, with inexplicable aversion towards violence and death, and like us they have their own dreams. We can discern the phase they are through. They must be waiting for God in the form of someone who is going to  put an end to all these. But why do we leave all these in the hands  of God, when even more powerful than him are on this Mother Earth. Today, in this world of racism, patriotism, and chauvinism, the  phrase Mother Earth is a sheer misnomer. Isnt it irony that the  current war is a war for peace?

  There never was a good war, or a bad peace, and no matter what the  objectives are, to me it is a sheer dastardly crime against humanity.  The history already replete with wars seems to be repeating itself.  What has happened to the post war civilizations? Do we still need another Lord Buddha, Mahatma Gandhi? The Human Rights Commission, religions, and civilizations have vanished. The countless anti-war protests remains unattended. The unrelenting war shows no signs of ending, human lives are being turned to dust, innocents starved to death. And we can, but only commiserate with the bereaved and hapless  innocent ones and wait with bated breath for Him to forbid violence and send Peace, beneath. But when?

-I do not know the answer, nor does anyone.

To Solan with love. 

 Tuesday, December 03, 2002 -

 Tring, tring........

I wonder how long the telephone bell had been ringing, but it abruptly disturbed my serene afternoon nap. Grudgingly, I forced myself, my eyes still closed to attend the call.

- Hello, is it Nawang?

- Speaking.

- This is from RCSC, we have received your confirmation. You have to report the institute in a week. 

The news threw me into ecstasy. Within moments I found myself framing anew  pictures of my days ahead. I had heard of Solan for the first time then. But Shimla was not new to me. I had often dreamt of visiting this picturesque hill station. And now that I was heading there, it was a mere dream come true. The Hindi-movies-craze in me made me feel that my life would be no less than those college lives  portrayed in hindi films. The comfortable journey and frenzy in me took me to Chandigarh in no time. Referring to my notes, I now had to board a Shimla bound bus. Minutes later, I found myself in an old bus-almost wreck and antique, with fug of bidi smoke and unfamiliar awful smell inside. My handkerchief aided me till Solan. I had expected a warm welcome to me as a foreign student and hoped to increase the radius of my friendship circle to a larger extent. But things seemed to hoax my dreams. Everything was hype. Every senior was a boor. Ragging was what every senior relished while for a junior student it was a sheer phobia in the so-called campus(to me  it seemed on par with hell). To my amazement even my own classmates  behaved boorishly towards me. Chauvinism ran in their blood and this peeved me beyond extents. I wanted to head back homebut somehow tad optimism left in me, convinced me that I could battle against all these and make my life brighter ahead.

This was almost four years ago from now.

But everything changed with pace of time. And I changed as a person too. The days ahead were moments to cherish. I found myself a family  in the form of Bhutanese group. Even other friends grew friendlier and fonder. I found a friend in each one of them. We brightened our days with get-togethers, celebrations, and indigenous jokes. I learnt a lot  being with them. Each one played a role in molding my life and creating best moments of my stay. Ever since my first encounters, I had always looked unto them for love, reassurance and a comforting company and always found in them the warmth and generosity. They have been friends in need, giving so much of themselves and assuaging my woes when I was down. We shared milestones  of special relationship and the eternal moments of our togetherness helped in cementing the bond we shared. 

Solan to me, became arguably one of the exquisite places. En route to Shimla, perched at above 4000 feet, the place was easy to fall in love with. The route to Nauni, embracing the spurs and the tantalizing views of pine trees in all periodic blocks was a sight to the foresters. Sauntering in the mall each evening, making it every weekend to Anand-a popular rendezvous for Solan youth is memories to cherish. 

So this comes from deep within my heart to all my endeared ones,  a world of thanks for everything. And to Solan who sheltered me  for all these wonderful moments.The beautiful moments wouldn't have  been possible without you all. Dear Solan, I had carved a niche for myself in you. It will be a  heart-breaking moment to depart.

CHEERS TO OUR FRIENDSHIPLONG LIVE SOLAN!

    OM AH HUNGAn evening at Thimphu.