Articles by: Dangkhar
A man who considered himself a lucky guy and lucky he was. He met this wonderful woman whom he found her the best. As days followed months they began to grow fond of each other. Then one fine day, there was a misconception of the crank calls that turned into a question of doubt.
This communication technology and skills brought lots of gray thinking between them that made him feel like a nincompoop. He cursed the gods for playing the wrong dice to his fate. But what fate is all about; he tried to console himself by thinking in his own mind. In the final confusion he thought to himself it must be the way – How gods play dice of our fate?
No sooner he turned himself into a simpleton than it turned out to be simplicity of chaos. He was totally confused with himself and in his lost state he took the silky route to listen to whispering songs of the wind pass between the rocks and sands. During the night it was the cold weather that was unbearable and by day he could feel the global warming effects.
His happiness disappeared while trying to find Nemo. This gave even lesser hope of finding Xanadu. He promised to make a new resolution for the New Year by wearing a red robe and learn to be content with life. On the eve of New Year, a miracle happened to him. He did not have to change his robes but he was quickly transformed into Quasimodo. It looked like he had frostbites all over his body and face. He lost hope of life and lay quietly in his room ashamed of his deformity. He was really sad to have thought of making New Year resolutions.
One fine day, some of his friends told him that he could go to Bangkok and have a plastic surgery done. His friends said the entire process would cost him more than four hundred thousand. Hearing the cost, he was demoralized and felt that he is no longer the same lucky guy. It was like getting hit by a weapon of mass destruction. Since that day, his dreams fell apart and decided to hibernate and stay away from the limelight. ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
These days Quasimodo is feeling lethargic from his uneasy slumber. He dreams and wonders what is there for him for the rest of the day. Quasimodo recalls his good old dreams and wants to get back to his bed but he knows there must be some hope left. His dream falls apart as soon as he thinks of the limousine ride his dream girl went up the romantic highway. His mind goes wild when thinks of the godly hour tring. His thought goes wild when thinks of the weapon of mass destruction. He wonders why all this has to happen to him only. He curses the gods for his deformity and curses the cupid angels for all the misfortunes. He feels lonely and cursed as he begins to crawl back to his bedroom in the tower of Notre Dame de Paris. He is again gone back into his damp rusty and noisy bed. Good Night beautiful and fashionable people of Paris. Enjoy the beauty while you can. Here I am lost and hiding in my dungeon and trying to see a beautiful dream. Hope is the best thing we can have. I hope my dream girl will come back to me.
When I am dreaming of my dream girl, the hardest part is to wake up and let go of my dream. But when I dreaming with a broken heart the hardest part is knowing have I lost her already? My memory lingers, she takes me in with her crying eyes but now she wonders whether she can still be a dream girl? At all times I ask her in my dreams with the following thoughts….. Will she disappear in the blue skies? Will she disappear down in the hard ground or will she disappear in thin air? She may think it is a goodbye but am wondering will my love going to stay besides me when I wake up? If I lost her in my dreams, I wonder why should I lose her and why can't I find her anymore? Dreams are meant to be dreams but when dreams become reality and the reality cannot be like a dream that disappears when I wake up. The hardest thing is to forget the dream I had and be in this real world…… ?????????? (Author is inspired by my dream girl)
April was the month when my entire world stood still for a moment. I could not believe my day would come with such horrific Hitlerism attack. My blood turned cold; my brains stopped functioning; my body felt numb and my eyes gazed like dead man.
My dream girl came to my rescue but the crusade was too strong for both of us. My dream girl stood strong and bold but after a while her strength began to wear off. My body like a shield held her high but the battle was fierce from the horrific Hitlerism attack. The battlefield was bloody and harsh spiky words came from the opponent, the attack was fiercer than the Genghis Khan's warriors. There were more empty shells than the so-called defenders.
The attack was all in vain, it seem more like the Iraq War, when Bush attacked Saddam Husain for possessing weapon of mass destruction. Why did the war begin in first place? Is it merely a conscience of having a chip on the shoulder and could not bear seeing goodness? Is there a need to destroy the weapon of mass destruction that never existed? Was that just purely out of sheer anger to conquer the world like Genghis Khan who never got to enjoy the kingdom he had?
I can never understand the complexity of such chaos that created a holocaust in Hiroshima in my life? I am smoothen flat like a rock that Guru Rimpoche once sat to meditate for centuries.
Even Quasimodo had good dreams but looks like he overslept the dreams and the dreams had disappeared before he woke up. He dreamt of his dream girl and spent most of his time together whenever she had the time. He believed in his wonderful dream girl to be the best and only one for him for the very reason that she had always been amiable and loving despite of his deformity and hideous looks.
But he mistook her magnanimity to be uxorious and he did not know that she already had someone who she passionately loved him. ……
One fine day he saw them drive along the love highway where she was full of smiles and talking to him and sharing glimpses of little romance in his limousine. This shattered his dream and began to see his dream disappear like smoke in thin air. He could not believe his eyes, he rubbed his dreamy big eyes still not believing what he saw yet he gathered his courage and started to re-shape his dreams but the dream was never was the same….
Poor Quasimodo he is now determined to go to Bangkok to overhaul his looks and deformity……Hopefully the determination does become like a dream too……
Feeling like a desiccated apple after living through this unusual winter, I can still feel the chilly breeze running under my gho. My Harley Davidson is not the best mode of transport for a place like Thimphu. Its either the dust on my visor that makes my drive very uncomfortable, or the icy breeze below my belt or the wet-set looks that gives after a downpour. I see lots of cars —- beginning from Maruti launching the A-star, Skoda the Fabia, Toyota the Yaris with a new hatchback look and of course the Korean cars that has sporty looks with a twist of jaguar sports car looks.
Whenever I get hit with the wintry breeze, monsoon shower and not to forget the dust on my visor, I always dream of buying one of these new cars. Sometimes I wonder if there is a way to aggrandize my income through some kind of discreet economy benefit. Or am I afraid of the aunty corruption coming after me or am I afraid that of being swarmed by the groovy classy chics that may notice me in my new flashy car.
Whether I dream of a flashy car or my poor man's Harley Davidson, but am always thinking of my good old dream girl, who has shown me the path how to be from Quasimodo to frog prince who was kissed and turned into a handsome young prince. Sometimes I wonder if I change my Quasimodo looks and fly off to Bangkok to have an overhaul of my physical deformity and a make over of my face or buy a new flashy car through discreet means of economy boosts…..
AHHHH…. Never mind my dream girl always told me that it is not what the gift is but it is the thoughts that counts……. This reminds me that I should be what I am. So I am back to my dusty visor, still feeling the chilly breeze under my belt and wet-set looks from the monsoon rain and still dreaming of my dream girl for more advises.
An extract from John Donovon witty verse…… from Saturday Evening Post, 1946…..
Call a woman a kitten, but never a cat;
You can call her a mouse, cannot call her a rat;
Call a woman a chicken, but never a hen!
Or you surely will not be caller again.
You can call her a duck, cannot call her a goose;
You can call her a deer, but not a moose;
You can call her a lamb but not a sheep
Economic she like but you can't call her cheap.
You can say she's a vision, can't say she's a sight:
And no woman is skinny, she is slender and slight:
If she should burn you up, say she sets you afire;
And you'll always be welcome, you tricky old liar…
That night, when I was dressed in black and all set to go for a kill. I waited for the prey in my usual hiding place. I waited for more than four hundred minutes for the prey to pass by. Within the four hundred minutes I came across a prey which I had killed for my dinner. I liked it but is not of my palate. The unwanted prey walked and tossed around my hideout who knew I would not take a shot. I just hated the look in the eyes of the unwanted prey.
After four hundred minutes, finally the prey I like the taste walked by. I took a careful aim and gave my best shot. The kill was a perfect 10. I picked up the prey and roasted it on a big fire and slowly ate it without any hesitation. The hesitation did not make me feel a little bit of remorse to have him shot and eat for dinner. I was happy and content and forgot about the unwanted preys. I did not even give a second thought to my unwanted prey and had the most wonderful dinner of my time; I had really missed the kill of my palate, it's been a long time since I ate that kind.
A month later, I began to feel a bit awkward with my stomach. May be it was the meat I ate that gave me the stomachache. I remember, I always developed rash on my face after eating my favorite kill sometimes the rash also over grew all over my body but I just love to eat the particular species. The rash developed like pimples on my face. This is my second time I happen to get the uncomfortable feeling of my stomach. Anyway, I enjoyed every moment of the kill and waiting of four hundred minutes. But I just like the taste of the meat and its royalty taste. Now I am worried if my stomach will get any better or worsen. My poor stomach, although I enjoy every bit of my killing. Did I eat too much or the meat does not suit my system or it was just my illusion. Anyway, it was worth the four hundred minutes wait.
There is no place on earth like Bangkok for any given Bhutanese…. For women, Bangkok is a paradise for shopping… The dressing sense …..it is the best place for dream come true for elderly and middle aged Bhutanese women….who have dream of wearing the high and mini-skirts and tight leotards and skimpy t-shirt and many more. They don't hesitate to wear in Bangkok. ……..
Back in Bhutan they always cover themselves to the maximum may be to keep away the cold or just shy …. Whereas Bangkok has the ideal weather… Anyway all dressed up to shop…. Taking the sky train to Siam Paragon looking for high class boots, leather bags and mobile phones….. Walking up to Big C to pick up gifts for the village folks back home…. A drive to Panthip to pick a gift for her hubby and some electronic gadget to please herself Running around the parfum section in Robinson and Central and then finally a quick peep into Louis Vuitton to look at what is the latest fashion for this season and then rushing off to MBK or Chatuchak to search for a replica Loius Vuitton handbag or shoes…….. this ritual continues till the blisters under their feet begins to hurt their sole and then a quick foot massage helps her to be back on their feet for the next round of shopping spree….. they splurge with all the saving they have (had).
For Men… Bangkok is a paradise to feast their eyes and belly. Morning sunrise does not make any sense as the sun cannot be seen due to pollution and high rise building, so it does not bother them at all…. A late brunch in the street stalls makes them happy and content and the a early Chang beer starts their day wishing for the neon lights to turn on. There is plenty of day light, so the men decide to pick up some souvenirs ad gift for their family back home making sure they do justice of their visit for their family. May be the gadget fanatics rush off to Pantip or MBK for a short moment.. A quick round in the Central and Robinson malls satisfied with the justice to their family.. The gifts and packages are dropped off to their rooms and shower makes them feel young as ever… all set to climb the stairway that leads to heaven on heart…..I mean the skytrain that takes them straight to Nana or Godown or Soi Cowboy.
The real moment starts after 10 pm… the dancing bar girls, strip tease.. and loud noise …In Soi Cowboy…..Bacarra is the best joint they slip under the skirts, long gun to look at the live show….nana's to catch a chang beer and listen to thundering sound and please themselves with the gourmet that laid on the dancing poles.
The year of the Earth Female Ox is a good year….2009. It is the meywar gu year. Is everyone planning to have a baby… Another baby boom…..
Is this going to be like 2000(?) dragon year when there was a baby boom in China, every Chinese wanted to have baby in the year of the dragon. Chinese astrology considers to have a baby in the year of the dragon, it brings luck and prosperity in life… Is this phenomena coming to Bhutan in 2009, the year of the meywar gu.
According to Bhutanese astrology, a child in the meywar gu is considered to be lucky and brings lots of luck and prosperity to the family. Good luck to everyone who wishes to have a lucky baby. As for me, I still have to rush around to find my soul mate before I think of a baby… the poor Quasimodo is still in chaos trying to find a hope amongst the well dressed like the James Bond waiting for another kill.
I am searching for my soul mate in this cyber world and hopping around with the hope to be the lucky guy. If I am not lucky in finding my soul mate by end of March 09, then I may never have a golden (meywar gu) child. I will probably resort to red robes or maybe think seriously about making the godly hour trings to meet my model like lady. Will the god play his dice well for me so that she will accept my godly hour calls or create chaos just to amuse himself. It may seem fun for him but it will be like a frostbite that will eventually give me an opportunity take up a new resolution to never look for a soul mate. A die-hard attempt will be to develop a communication skill and forget about my looks. To do this I may need to travel to Big Apple and leave the land of Happiness to make a turnover of three to four million Ngultrums so that I can walk the smooth silky route to win the heart of my dream lady. If all my attempts does not succeed, I will finally rest my long quest and opt to red robes and be like any other nincompoop who is strolling along Norzin Lam.
My house is a small one with four small rooms….one bed room which call it the master bedroom where i try to fight the winter cold in lonely queen sized bed, the second room is the kitchen where I receive all my daily nutrient, third one being the toilet, where I love to sing at the top of my voice….oh I hate the mirror and the fourth room is a common room where I host all my entertainment for my friends and gods… one small altar houses where the Almighty Lord Buddha sits and watch us with amusement. I wouldn't call it a home yet. I prefer to call it house because it is so empty and cold.
I have an old bike that went through lots of changes from a Bajaj Kawaski looks to a Harley Davidson design. I am proud of it for it takes me from point A to point B whenever I needed to be on the move. I don't have to wait for the rude taxis or the crowded city bus. I am happy that at least I have something to cherish, which my parents bought for me when I graduated from one of the best colleges in Bhutan. My parents were proud of me in the hope of becoming a Dasho Quasimodo one fine day.
Every morning I proudly ride my bike to office feeling like James Dean in my leather jacket of course ignoring the bottom part of my body. In summer, it is a great feeling but during winters it is like getting a sharp knife up my crotches. As soon as I reach the office parking lot, I have to walk like one of the Wild West cowboys ready for a gun draw. Waddling like a duck troddle to my office cubicles. I forget the cold bites as soon as I reach my small cubicle office, for I know that a small blow heater is right under my desk to warm the pair.
The day begins with a click on my computer and the blue window screen appears where I quickly sign in to my chat rooms….MSN, Yahoo and druknet chat forum. Then I shuffle through old and new document trying to keep myself busy with no output at the end of the day. Everyday, I take a long hour tea break to chitchat with my colleagues to catch up with the new happenings in other parts of Thimphu community. Often we discuss on the new happenings in the administrative business. After awhile we break for another long hour lunch break. Of course we don't have our pack lunches but we ask the office messenger girl to make us a quick koka. While we wait, for the watery koka, we again sip our free tea provided by the office. By the end of the lunch we rush off to our desks and start to tidy our files for the work is done for the day. I quickly browse through my inbox to see if any last minute tasks.
Most of the times, I always hope my beautiful lady is signed in to say good-bye and catch you later or shall we go out eating. I love the eating part. The last meal of my day is usually very nutritious and with lots of affection poured into by my love. If she does not have any program with me, I drive off to my house and try to sleep early. But those darn windows and doors of my house that has cracks like a mouse hole and through these cracks I can feel the cold breeze trying to hit my bones. I make a super fast supper and try to rush into my bed, where it is little warmer than the whole house. I glue myself to the idiot box for more news and entertainment till my eyes are shut. Once my eyes are shut, I am again busy dreaming of my love one…. Before my dream ends, I am up and again back to the beginning of my story.
Is technology a boom or curse? I recently read the local newspaper, it said about the calls and wrong person responding…hahaha….it was funny incident but it is a serious matter. It could develop a strong sense of mistrust… In first place, was it a wrong number u dialed or was it the wrong person you wanted? Is the calls genuine enough to make it sound like wrong number? Do we blame the technology or the service provider? Or do we blame oursleves for being so nice to the callers? Or is the caller being harsh and dirty to call the lily-livered person? The question is who is to blame? Technology or thyself.
I woke up at around 7:30 am. I was thinking whether I should call or wait for a call. Heaven knows what was happening but my mind was playing tricks with me. I just could not believe I had to rush off before my eyes could be open. My lazy bones sprung up like the jack in the box. Was i dreaming or is it just my imagination since I am not an early bird. I got onto my bike and rushed off like a wind.
The wind on my face was like hitting myself on a cold rock. My ears were numb and my nose almost falling to the bike's bar handles. My gho was puffed up like a parachute and my thighs were looking blue from the frost bites. My knee caps gave way to cold wind…. after a while my brains stopped functioning since i was hit by the cold morning breeze. brrrrr……… I reached my office, but then I had forgotten the errand I was asked to do. Quickly I realized, i once again kick start my bike and rushed off for the errand but then it was too late. I found my friend had already frozen with anger and had turned blue from the wintry cold. As I reached there I could not find my way to help her. Shee was so frozen, she would barely talk to me and hher eye balls looked as though she had fiery dragon inside her. I cursed myself for being a nincompoop.
I was born in a small remote village somewhere in Zhemgang. When I was a kid I was so xenophobic, I hid myself away from any new face seen in the village. I was more or less possessed a xyloid head. My face looked unkempt and messy with all the dirt that you can think, my teeth were more xanthic than white. My coccyx was almost comparable to a golden langur's. I was complimented with tight-lipped especially if the new person was a female and if she was young teenage like me. I had the inferior complex and I still have. I feel like the great quasimoto from Notre Dame, whenever I looked into the mirror and wishing to say…. mirror mirror on the wall…who is the ??? of all… As years passed by I grew to be an ugly duckling, short and typical of a barbaric look straight out of Jurassic Park movie. Now I am a full grown adult but still has the fear of complexity which is growing more and more within myself. I fear that my recently found love (one sided that is from my side only) who may find and learn about my inferior complex or my true quasimoto looks. Refer to my first article….. lucky guy
This was the strangest evening of my life. I have never seen anyone like him.
Yesterday afternoon I called him up and asked, wai buddy what's your plan for this evening after office. He said ..nothing much and he will be home trying to do some clean up. After office hours, I went to a shop and picked up some foodstuff to join him in his lonely cold evening. Of course I was not an invited guest but I invited myself to his house for some chitchat.
I rode up to his flat and rang the doorbell. He would not open the door and I thought he was busy so I waited for almost 20 minutes at his doorstep. Strangely enough, he did not open the door. The long hour wait got me worried and curious too, wondering if he was at home or not. I looked in through his window with some guilt, but I was worried if something must have happened to him.
My worry turned into amusement when I saw him in his room and was not responding to the doorbell. The amazing part was that he looked like he was dressed to kill. He was dressed in black – black pants, black pullover and a black trench coat. His dressing sense made me look stupidly dressed like a vagabond. He was the one who was supposed to be cleaning the house whilst I was the vagabond going to my friends' house for a dinner and to bottoms up some of his home made brew.
I called him up on his cell. Then he realised and opened the door for me. I walked in to his house and made myself comfortable since his family had gone on a vacation to a warmer place. As I sat down in one of those wonderful couch, I just could not help asking him about his dress up. Wai Toysa… what is this you look like you are dressed to go and meet someone lovely. He said, no I sometimes just dress up when I am at home.
But…. I interrupted him… do you always dress up to clean up your house. It does not seem right and that too in black. He gave me a sheepish smile and said nothing and sat down to pour some drinks and heat up the ready made food I brought for dinner. I kept on bugging him and said, you are crazy to dress up if you are not going out or meeting someone special.
He almost blurred out that he was meeting someone but something withheld his stammering words with he still wore that sheepish smug on his face. I told him trying to be more specific, are you going to see your friend who is leaving tomorrow for a week long training course to Bangkok. He smiled and said no way my dear friend I don't even like her…………. I did not want to act like Sherlock Holmes, so I changed my topic of discussion.
The excitement ended there and we ate our dinner and drank to glory and by mid-night I was heading home in the icy breeze…..mind you I was riding a motorcycle… brrrrrr… I was almost frozen to death when I got home…..
All buddhists' dream to touch the soil where once Siddartha attained buddhahood and began his first sermon. It is none other than, Bodhgaya, lumbini and sarnath and etc are part of the Naykhor. Every winter there is a big rush of all ages hoarding the druk air (elite ones) and Jaigaon Bus terminals trying to make this religious Naykhor.
To start with, I never been to Bodhgaya but as all buddhist, I also dream of visiting these holy places before I am too old to make it happen. I may sound a bit unorthodox and anti-buddhist, but I am not. I am very much a Buddhist and live my life of a Buddhist. I am very much like out of the book "What makes you NOT a Buddhist" by Dzongsar Jamyang. I am just a simple village bumpkin who is learning to live a Buddhist way of life.
I was of opine that Buddhism is not a religion but a way of life and the teachings are very easy (not very sure) but Buddhism is all in our own minds. But the question is…. Is it worthwhile to make this Naykhor when all those religious minded people are always showing off — how many times they gone for Naykhor, making the lesser ones feel guilty and lesser blessed. Some of these very religious minded people even have the nerve to say … have to got the wang from this and that lam.
If this is the situation and ideas we develop from going to Naykhor, then I am a little discouraged to go and do the round of my Naykhor. Buddhism teaches us to control our mind because it is our minds that is the source of all evils….deyba (desire). It is this desire that makes us not buddhist. Then where does the question come from …how many times you have been for naykhor? The desire to show that you have visited more than the other person makes you feel more important and more blessed. Is this budhhism? Should I wear a red robe to show the world that I am the holy one? Is buddhism just a outwardly show by saying that I have been for Naykhor as many as 100 times or visit all lhakhangs every holy day or get blessed from all the eminent holiness?
Is wearing a red robe not mean you are practicing Buddhism. It is a sad case that so many of these red robes are giving our simple folks the wrong notion of Buddhism. Should not these red robes tell us what is wrong and what is right? Whereas, I find all those who have been for the holy Naykhor should have come back with a glow in the face (enlightened) or a halo over their head, but they come back with an attitude to gossip with the buddies. Irony but true. If you don't believe me then you should listen to your old folks sitting around Memorial Chorten. The talk always takes place just before winters when it is time for the wonderful Naykhor. The same words are shared with the red robes in the monastery. The first statement of any conversation would start like…. Wai.. how many times have you gone for Naykhor? The reply by the less fortune would be… Aiye mo… once only but I wish to go at least 3 times before I die. The more fortunate ones would say, we go every year and intend to go until I die….. This is so not buddhist….. Bottomline… are we practicing new form of buddhism or some kind of egocentric religion. I pledge that the red robes should show us the middle path instead of showing the simple old folks the wrong views.
As 2008 fades away into our past and we recall it is like a dream and try to make it better in the new New Year by pressing the refresh button. Comes the 2009 and we all dream to freshen our hope that later is like a dream.
This dream is like a tip of the iceberg. We always wonder how big is our iceberg and how long it will stay afloat and what is there for the whole year to come. Is it a good or bad fortune? Everyone runs to the astrologer to clear the path, everyone prays for the best thing to happen, everyone looks forward to better future. All these things come into our mind while we forget the reality of life…. In pursuit of Happiness.
Let us all celebrate the new year and have fun and be happy. Nokpin members let us make a resolution to be HAPPY in the the land of happiness.
Mr. perfect was hovering around aimlessly to find a good friend with whom he could share his experiences. Aimlessly strolling like a lost puppy, he suddenly bumped into three good-looking people who were also in search of the ultimate nirvana. He hung around with them in search a perfect sanctity. Each of them also had their own problem and was shared amongst themselves. Three of them were always there to backstop each other when in times of need or even share a small moments of good times. It was a perfect harmony like the thuepa puen Zhi without the fourth one.
They looked more like the three musketeers before the fourth member joined who were ready to help and share with each other in good and bad times. Now that Mr. Perfect who was aimlessly strolling was accepted as part of their team, the team has turned into thuepa puen Zhi trying to make a perfect harmony. Although a good balance but still shaky and it requires more time to mature and gain enough equity to make a perfect harmony.
The four friends had their weakness and strength but they started to look at each other's weakness and make it into their strength and used their strengths to inculcate for betterment of the other person. Where else can you find a myth turn into reality but within these four friends? A perfect example but it still needed more time to strengthen their bonds especially with the fourth new comer.
The three ex-musketeers had already developed their bond but still needed more time and with the fourth one joining the group required more time and thoughts to process. Each of the members had different problems and pertinent to their own lives. If this bond continues probably their goals to harmony and nirvana is not very far away.
A story told by my friend when he was in love with a woman and my advice to him. The story goes………
A whirlwind courtship is one thing but qualm can be something during the whirlwind courtship. Does these two go hand-in-hand? I suppose when you are in love with someone, both the players can develop a sense of togetherness and according to Russian proverb "Jealousy and love are sisters".
His heart skips a beat when he is with my dream girl. But his heart skips more than few beats when her phone goes tring tring. She picks up her phone and a soft hello and then few words murmuring in her mother tongue that sounds Greek to him makes him more like a curious cat. The whole ordeal fills him with anxiety and gets to torment him. Is it simply because he don't understand a word or he is just being obnoxious – curiosity kills the cat. It is weird when he does not understand what she is talking about and most interestingly with whom.
She tells him … oh it was call from her old friends who admired her but there is nothing going on in between the two of them. Amazingly, the curiosity jumps higher when the caller calls her again and again in wee hours….tring tring…. My advise to him was please count your heart beats and ask her for her honest response. I told him that according to studies it shows that either the strange call means that he loves her or they admire each other to accept his calls in godly hours. If they were just friends then he would not call her in godly hours. I suppose when you are in love with someone, both the players can develop a sense of togetherness and according to Russian proverb "Jealousy and love are sisters".