Winding Road & Wild Companions

Did I write this nearly a decade ago?

First published on February 9, 2013 shortly after my month long stay in Bhutan.....the trip I had made to find a direction. I was lost. I had a job, a regular job that people would be envious of.  I craved for expression. Writing that touched the soul, not just copy, pasted and recreated from other people's work...often call research ...especially in humanities....

I have gotten better both at academic work and have published more creative work, so in an essence a balancing act has been achieved. 

I still look for direction. But one thing I have found is that most people are looking for direction. Humanity knew it, so it created things like family, and marriage and rearing children.  It is an automatic way of providing a direction, while having some organic fun along the way!!

It is special day...Sunday, in August, and I am going to go for a walk...with an open heart and mind....

May be some new messages will be air dropped by invisible forces!

PS: I am making up for this past friday that I missed....

This was my walking path for a few weeks, right behind the hotel.  The country is at a high altitude. The hotel where I stayed was even higher.  This path that you see goes a step further.  People lived up here.  Construction in several places is also a sign of rapid development in Bhutan.  

This was my view for nearly a month. I would walk down the hill towards the town and on the way, stop several times to simply stare at the silence.  Often I would walk back with grateful smile on my lips. Bhutan had been a dream since I was a child. And especially since I knew that their Prime Minister also went to Penn State!! Yoohooo!!

My wild but compassionate companions: October 13, 2012

Paro, Bhutan, October 13, 2012

I had meant for this post to follow direclty the winding road around this wanton world. 

I get a daily email from 'dailyom'.  They are usually spiritual messages that either shed light on the things we tend to ignore or provide us with new lenses to look at things. I do not have the time to read them all.  So I get them on two different email accounts, and hardly ever delete them before at least browsing through them.

On this day, I got a message that directed us to look for messages from Animals in nature.  Messengers in Direction. 

Animals in nature always have a message for us, start noticing what animals show up in your life and when.  

I read it, looked around, found some bugs, and discarded the idea.  

Like always I was contemplating much at the time when I was trying to shun all thought.

When I went for my little promenade (walk) that evening, I saw two dogs tag along.  I love 'beings' so there is no particular aversion to animals, but because of experience I am wary of them. They are animals. And not always rational.  Just like us human beings, only with less accountability.

So I kept to one side and let the dogs go ahead of me. Then I thought I should slow down to increase the distance between them and I.  So, I slowed down and finally stopped for a few seconds.

Only to realize that both of them would stop only a bit ahead of me.  Then wait, until I started moving again. I did this at least three of four times. And they would stop each time.  I could not stop smiling.

It was a crazy evening, and for a short while I had contemplated solitude, its advantages and sort of 'disadvantages', but these 'animals in nature' had come, of their own accord, to keep me company.   I got close to one of them and petted it. The dog was dirty, unkempt, and smelled bad. But I could not ignore that they had formed a connection on their own with me.  That they had given me attention, without me giving them anything. 

What message were they bringing me?

May be that, sometimes too much inward thinking can make us overlook those who notice us and care for us.  So, on the days when all is not going well, may be we should recognize that we do have companions.  Even when we do not appreciate them.  

That we have many companions on our path.  Each for his/her own reason, for his/own time, with a specific rhyme and reason.  May be, no particular message except to recognize that we share this experience with numerous others.

When we came down the hill, I bought some crackers from the tuck shop for the dogs.  One of them I noticed was a 'she'.  She showed a completely different side of herself when I fed them the crackers.  She was ferocious and scared the other dogs away.  Even I was scared of her then.  But because I had seen her gentle side only a few minutes ago, I had to come up with various other reasons to understand her.

May be she had been treated badly, may be she always had to fight for food.  May be she was saving it for her children (pups)?

What message was she bringing me?  

That we cannot make conclusions on knowing people partially.  But more importantly, that we always know people partially.  

So, this winding roads our life path, we must never take our understanding of others too seriously.  That our companions -often- carry within themselves both the compassionate and the wild simultaneously.......

As I strolled back to my room, I tried to hold the image of this neglected dog, who not only kept me company without asking, but stopped every few minutes --so I could catch up. 

We all have this silly, loving and wild companions on the winding roads of our life!!  I wish you many kind ones!

Smiling Salesman

First published on November 28, 2012--Here it is again. I remember this incident like it was yesterday.  Remember his face like I saw him this morning.  And the joy that spread his face when I took this picture still makes me all happy and want to be the nicest person in the world!!  Thank you sir!! We should all smile, we never know how it is helping someone!!

We were headed to Tak Tseng: The Tiger's Nest.  One of the oldest Monasteries in Bhutan.  

It was nearly 3000 ft above the sea level.  From ground to the monastery was about three hour gruesome climb.  As is always the case, there were vendors selling goods at the base.  

I have learnt to identify things that we must spend money on and those that we should leave alone.  This year my goal was to 'not shop'.  Mostly, I have realized, I spend just as much time in looking for gift as in enjoying my break.  This break was meant to take me deep within.  So my goal also was to not buy gifts for anyone, to not talk to many people, just be alone, not email, no phone calls, no connection with the world.  All of it proved difficult, but useful in the long run. But I reduced my email checking considerably, only spoke with 2-3 ultra important people who would not let me alone, during this time. I had left my check-in bag at Singapore and carried only a hand-luggage to Bhutan.  Half of which was filled with paper and books to read.

I did not realize not buying gifts would prove so difficult.  I would look at things, and then come back a dozen time to buy them and at least two times I would return with the good in my hand.  But at least ten times I resisted the urge to buy.  It was a great exercise for someone like me, who spent many hours on looking for gifts. Among other things, this time, a resolution and carrying only my hand luggage proved helpful.

I have also realized that souvenirs often cost more (in time and effort) than what they mean to who you present them to.  So, this year....I knew whatever I bought would either be for other people, or something I could not do without.

There was one such a thing they were selling at the base.

A walking stick.  

I have climbed a few of these 'high up' places, so I know how important a stick is.  As I started looking at them, about three people rushed with their sticks towards me.  The sticks were very nicely shaved and sanded.  Very smooth, and very strong.  

'Buy from me, from me' all three said. Two women and one man. 

I have to admit though that the vendors were not as aggressive as I have seen in other countries.

Then this woman came up to me and said, 'buy from me, the other two are together, I am alone.'

That one line made the decision for me.  This man tried smiling, cajoling, but I leaned toward the woman who had said, 'buy it from me, I am alone.'

The man, with a child-like round face, responded with a pout.  I felt really bad for turning his smiling face to a pout.

'I am sorry, I am sorry' I told him, 'Ok promise I will try and buy something from you when I return.'

But he would not look at me.  My last image of him, before I headed towards the monastery was that of a face that was 'sad, forlorn, disappointmented.'

I felt bad, but needed only one stick.  And I had to be ruthless to stick to my 'no frivolous buying policy.'

I met some of the most interesting people on my first hike up to Tak Tseng (I went twice).  I will write about those people in another post.  

On my return, I saw him sitting with his goods.  The moment he saw me, he tried not smiling, but ah a pure heart-- how could a pure heart not smile?

'See I told you, I will buy something from you, but not until you smile for me.'

'Yes, yes, smile for me, a bigger one...'  

He gave me an ear to ear smile....and that is when my camera went, 'Click'.

A Recipe for Heaven!!

First Published on January 23, 2013, only two months after my visit to Bhutan here it is again.  I mean, sharing a recipe for heaven is ALWAYS a good thing!!

A handwritten note at a primary school in Bhutan!!  Does not need any explanation, only repeated recitation!!

Yoezerling Primary School, Paro, Bhutan, October 2012.

The Time to be Happy is Now

And the Place to be Happy is HERE

And the Way to be Happy is to 

Make Someone Happy

And We’ll Have a little 

Heaven Right Here!! 

Chantal

September 2012, Thimphu, Bhutan

I cannot believe that it has been two years since I met her first.  We have exchanged a few emails since.  I met her on my first visit to Thimphu, Bhutan.  She was with a travel group.  We struck up a conversation right away.  She was warm and filled with joy.  Her english was so good and she had so many interesting things to share.

She asked me where I was from, and if I were a 'mixed' person.  Which always makes me say that most of us just look alike, we forget that.  There is not that much difference in the way people look between the extreme dark and light.  IN between many of us could pass for Italians, Mexicans, Brazilians, Columbians etc.  There has been enough mixing of people around.  And it will only continue.

She nodded.  She told me that she had been to India and that she was starting a bed and breakfast in her country--Italy.

I have not had the time to visit the country yet, and really want to go.

But the point of the post is that even though I met her only once and we talked for all of 20 minutes, I still remember her face, the warmth with which she took me.  And at the end of that short conversation extended an invitation to me---

You can come and be my guest!!  And I was a total stranger.

If I have learnt anything from my travel, that is that people are amazing, they have incredibly large hearts.  And media, instead of bringing us together does us a disservice by always focusing on the negative.

So, as we move into a new year, I wanted to put the picture of this lovely, warm woman on my blog to remind me how lucky I have been to meet grand hearts.  

And there is certainly many times more goodness in the world----than the opposite.

Thanks Chantal!!  

Where Roads are Made...

Where Roads are Made, I loose my way---
                                       Tagore, The Fruit gathering

This little one had a big name, Bahadur (brave) or something. I loved his innocent face and asked his mother if I could take his picture. Paro, Bhutan, 2012

A over head view of Paro Cho (river), Paro, Bhutan, 2012

Budha Point, Thimphu, Bhutan, 2012

Three School girls returning home….two of them on the ground, because they had started laughing at something, as all young girls do. They laughed so hard that they lost control--oh, the joy….., Paro, Bhutan, 2012

Where roads are made I lose my way.

In the wide water, in the blue sky there is
no line of a track.
The pathway is hidden by the birds' wings,
by the star-fires, by the flowers of the
wayfaring seasons.
And I ask my heart if its blood carries the

wisdom of the unseen way.

                                                                       Tagore, The Fruit gathering

Majestic Manos!!

Every country has its own focus on beauty.  Often times a quick tour to the ladies room tells you what is important in which country….

In the US, its often hair.  Women are always brushing their hair. In India, and Colombia (am assuming Latin America) it is the lipstick.  In Fiji?  Well, nothing comes to mind…may be because its hot---there is no use--make up will run down your skin and hair will get frizzy anyway…..

In Sweden its often blush and foundation, to make the girls look sun-kissed……. In Bhutan, well, again not much on the face---so there is not much grooming in the ladies rooms.  But for sure something that requires women to do in their leisure time.  I noticed that women in Bhutan wore some of the most unusual colors on their nails!!


Here are a few pictures….!!

If Vogue Knew!!

The above and below picture are not of the same person....but taken at the same time, at the same place, October, 2012

Bhutan, October 2012

I found her breaking rocks by roadside in Paro town.  Her toddler was climbing on her back.  I walked up with my camera.  And tried to talk to them.  They all spoke 'mild' hindi.

Her eyes captivated me.   She noticed me smiling straight into her eyes and she looked away, giggling like a teenager. 

Please, may I take a picture of you?

She giggled and hid her face in her right palm.  Her clothes were old, the sweater seems old enough to unravel any minute, her hands were dry and coarse, tell-talling her hard life, but those eyes could not but reveal the untouched soul.  

It took me a while to get two photographs, because she just would not look at me.  After a few minutes I settled for two shots, neither which of has her eyes towards the camera.  She was simple and straight forward in herself-consioucsness and shyness.

Neither did I ask her name, nor did I pay her for this photograph, nor try to establish any emotional contact.  I was not sure how I felt around this soul, that oozed its essence in the simplicity that it embodied.  

Her friends giggled, and laughed at the attention she was getting.  Somehow, I feel that they knew that they could not give her that royal treatment she deserved!!  Looks, handwork, kindness, simplicity, all rolled into a short Bhutanese/Nepali frame!!  

As I walked away, I kept wondering, how long before that all fizzles after she works in sun and heat, cold and winter, breaking rocks day after day, as she feeds her child by the street.  A stray thought brought me a smile, 'Only if Vogue knew about her'

As the distance between these women and me got farther --I wondered if it was a blessing that Vogue did not know about her.  In that obscurity the woman had maintained an allegiance to authenticity--not to be found in fashion magazines!!  

May be that is why my feet stopped and I knelt in front of her to request for a photograph! 

Three Musketers!

I  met them at Yoezerling Primary school, in Paro, Bhutan. October, 2012

Bhutan has a significant number of people of Nepalese origin.  Their population is usually concentrated in southern Bhutan.  Beacuase, as is the case in any 'multiethnic/multiracial' nation people who do not fit the description of a 'native' have had to struggle for equal status.  Today if you ask someone, they will identify themselves as "Bhutanese' or at the most southern Bhutanese rather than Nepalese.  Same as Indo-Fijians often preferred to be called Fijians, rather than Indo-Fijian.  And to a great extent there is truth in that.  They are Indian, they are also Fijian.  But they are Fijian to the extent that their emotion and political loyalty remains with the land they know as home.

For example, African americans usually complain about being labelled so. They are Americans.  Bara (Just)  American!!

Once when my nephews were barely 6 years old (they are twins), I overheard them to talk to each other.

‘Brother, are you a white or a black american?*

My sister was really upset at this. ‘Who teaches them this?’ she had asked in frustration.

But I guess, living in Tennessee had made the boys consider the question as ordinary as, ‘What is your name?’

And. I was amazed at the smart answer my other nephew had given.

‘I am neither, I am a tanned American’, he had shrugged.

I have told that story several times.  

This past weekend on a train to stockholm, I sat across two ‘oriental’ siblings, chatting in Swedish.

‘Katrinaholm’ they said, when I asked them where they were from.

And I remember the two Ethiopian girls who though dressed in Ethiopian outfits, as the UN tour guides, were chatting to each other in Swedish.  

The above picture made me think of all those ideas of ‘hybridity’. 

If you notice the boys on the right, are of Nepalese, origin.  The cutie on the left is of mongoloid origin, or some mix.  So, are the boys on the right, but they are considered southern Bhutanese, or those of Nepali origin.

Why did I think that far, instead of just looking at their adorable faces?

Well, because the middle one, who had a very hindu name, was running after the one on the right, yelling at him in English.

‘Wait, wait, silly, wait’

And then when I talked to him in hindi, he responded.  He spoke to me for about 15 seconds in hindi, when his attention turned to the adorable round face on the left, who was yelling at him in Dzongha....pointing at something at the bottom of his shoes.  So in the matter of a few minutes, this five year old had communicated in three different languages without realizing what he was doing.  

I had to take their picture.  Partly to remember their adorable faces.  Partly to acknowledge the richness they live in, with this very obvious hybrid identity.  Which adds to the richness of a nation, that houses only 700,000 thousand people, but can boast about 3 main languages and several (upto 30) dialects of Dzongha.

She Knew!!

 At Thimphu Teschu, the Bhutanese festival, color was in abundance, the sun was generous, and the wind was at rest.  It was a beautiful day for taking pictures.  It was my first week in Bhutan, and I was still drunk from the beauty of the country.  I could not stop clicking my camera.  This young woman was keeping an eye of my movements.  

I smiled.

She smiled.

I pointed my camera.

She smiled back.

I took another picture.

And then casually, she looked away.  I sensed that she did not want me to look away or put my camera down.  So, I kept lingering around her.  I did not say a word, but kept watching her from the corner of my eye.  And then, she turned her head, tipped it a bit and rested her eyes.  For a few seconds she did not move.  

That was my cue.  I needed to take a picture.  That last picture that I took of her was just perfection!!  There is a glint in her eyes, her mind seems at rest but not blank, ---the thoughts have slowed down, and there is a faint smile on her lips.  If you notice, her eyes have a smile larger than one on her mouth.....

I think she knew what she was doing---subconsciously she was giving me the angle that made her look her best self!!  Women, they are the same everywhere!! Thimphu, Bhutan, October 2012!!

A Safe Journey, A Safe Return!

Phurba Dorji: A seven year old monk blesses a visitor!!

What is your name?

What do you like to eat? Hear his friend whisper 'banana'.  In the video that I took on my semi prof video camera he had said he liked Chocolates! 

What do you like to drink?

What time do you wake up in the morning? 

After I interviewed him I saw him play with his friends--just like any other child......After all 7 year olds the world over are the same.

I see a safe journey, I see a safe return

May I become at all times, both now and forever
A protector for those without protection
A guide for those who have lost their way
A ship for those with oceans to cross
A bridge for those with rivers to cross
A sanctuary for those in danger
A lamp for those without light
A place of refuge for those who lack shelter
And a servant to all in need. 

Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama

The Dzong, is the first major building you see as you drive from Paro airport towards the town.  It is colored in the same colors as all buildings in Bhutan.  But the first day is when you notice it.  It leaves a sense of calm in you.
The building is painted white on the outside and all the windows and roof work is done in Bhutanese style.  Most of the buildings in the country are built that way to keep a uniformity.  The Dzongs are the fortress like structures.  Only they are meant to train the monks.

In all the Buddhist countries that I have been to so far, there is a wisdom that underlies many things. I am sure there is corruption and other wrong doings, that result from ego. But it does seem that they work from a stand point of developing the character of an individual.  Often those who are too poor to send their children to school send them to the Dzongs.  The young are then trained in reading and writing, the language of the country, and knowledge of the mind.  Other than getting education, these young men are made to think of character and its significance.  The focus is on impermanence and therefore a persistence in joy. 

In Lao, the young monks usually stayed in these monasteries till they were twenty and then joined the real world. In Thailand many adults, after being disillusioned by the 'real world' come to the monasteries as a refuge to save their souls.

In Bhutan, where like all buddhist countries, sending children to monasteries is considered praiseworthy, families often pride in sending one of their children to the Dzong --to get an education that might save the entire family.  

So, about ten days before I left, I finally made it to the Dzong.  It was a nice 25 minute walk from hotel to town.  And then about 10 minutes of an uphill walk that must equal an hour of walking.  When I arrived there, I was huffing and puffing.  But seeing the red robes of the monk flutter in the wind against the white backdrop of the fortress like building brought me the well needed rest.

The fun part about Bhutan was that most people spoke hindi.  After generic talk with the guard and other monks, I walked in.

One of the thing as a traveller is that you must have the time to actually understand the country.  Not in the country but before you arrive there.  I, am embarrassed to say that I do not do that.  But that is because my goal is different.  I never arrive as a tourist.  I arrive as a person.  I meet other people, make friends and  leave with friends.  But I learn much, because often I get the inside story.

So, when I enter these monasteries and temples, which after the first few all look the same, I look for the human element.

This time, I spoke with young monks, who were not very well versed in english.  I took some pictures --of Paro Cho (River Paro), some shots of the river and the surrounding area of the Dzong, was lucky enough to get an amazing shot of a plane flying above the mountains.  

And then I asked the monk if I could just stay inside the monastery for a short while, in silence.  They agreed.

I set my timer and sat there.  I could feel the gentle glow of the  butter lamps, sense the gaze of Buddhas carved in stone, breathe the colors inside the monastery.  It must have been only a few minutes when I heard this pitter patter.

I turned around to see this tiny thing fixing his robes. 

The littlest monk....7 years--my nephew's age.  But with a big commanding name--Phurba Dorji!!

I could not hold my chuckle, and got restless just looking at him.  I wanted to touch his forehead, pull his robe, ask him questions.

He spoke no English, I realized very quickly.  In in a few minutes monks of all sizes were around me. This tiny one ran out with the ones his size--probably playing a game of catch.

I could no longer sit in peace, I had to capture this.  

I went outside and I hugged him.  In fact, I could not stop hugging and kissing him.

Older monks helped me converse with him.  

What do you want to be?  What do you like to eat?  What do you like to drink is what I asked him.

His friend who was a year older translated some for him.  The older monk, who understood better, kept our conversation alive.  But interestingly enough there was a 7 year old-- a non-monk, who translated english to Dzongkha just as well.  Children in Bhutan learn both Dzongkha and English in schools. 

His father passed away, and the mother has six other children.  He was sent to the Dzong to become a monk, only a month ago.  So, the newest monk.  A month old....  

I told him that i will take him with me in my bag, if he was ready to come with me. 

I asked him who was his favorite sibling? 

'Mom' he said.

He told me that he aspires to be the head lama.  I told him he had to bless me now, since I wont be allowed to hug when he is the big shot!! 

He giggled at least 6 times before the other monk got this shot from my camera....

Readers will be happy to know that on my next planned visit, I took him bottles of mango juice and some chocolates, as he had asked me to.