Articles by: zenithoo
At the beginning of each year, we are given a big book with blank pages. We are to prepare our own pencils, pen and paint and write our story down and paint it bright. It's not about who can write or draw or paint the best, it's about the journey taken and the time spent filling up the blank pages.
It is time to start another book, to take another journey through the magical land of paints. I did my best to make my previous book interesting. I have learnt the art of mixing colors and shades, in order to get my type of shades and colors. I painted my book with every possible color I could get and drew every possible pictures and designs I can think of. Bright happy colors can't complete any stories by themselves; the dark shades are always there to tell another half of the story. My story contains bright flowery color to dark coal-like color at the same time. A donation of ideas and colors from a family, a friend, a neighbor or even a stranger is always there to complete yet another part of my story. I help them color their book and they help with mine. I had a great time drawing and painting, and I am proud of the worn out yet paint-filled book of mine.
Hope you guys are prepared for another year of drawing and painting!!!
HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011
It was my first day at the ward. The sounds of wailing children and the look on their parents face added to my nervousness and worries which I had been experiencing from the night before. I looked around the place and I saw him there, peacefully sleeping. A quick look at him and I could say nothing was wrong with him. He looked nothing like the other children who were there. Another strange thing, no one was nearby.
The next day, I learnt his name was Simon. His parents were not around when I passed his crib. 'Where are the parents?' I asked myself. The nurses at the ward took turns feeding him, bathing him and holding him. It was evening again, still no sign of his parents. A friend saw me watching him and said 'Maybe he is the son or the grandson of one of the nurse here. Did you see how they always take such good care of him? Nothing seems to be wrong with him. See how rosy his cheeks are and I never heard him cry like the others do'. 'Well, maybe he is', I said.
On the morning of the third day, I checked on him again. A nurse was playing with him and I saw no one else. Towards the evening, when all works were done, I sat by the nurses' station and wrote down some notes as usual. I saw the head nurse come and sit after feeding Simon. So I asked her 'how old is Simon?”. 'Almost 3 months now' was the reply. I continued 'If you don't mind me asking, what is his story?' There was a pause for a while and she said 'His mother left him here right after he was born, so we have been taking care of him since'. I didn't say anything, so she continued “She ran away 4 hours he was born. We tried to look for her but couldn't. She used a fake name and fake home address. Now, we are looking for someone to adopt him. He just can't grow up in the hospital.” “Poor Simon” that was the only thing I could say. “How old is his mother?” I asked after a while. “17 or 18, I don't remember” she said.
I have seen girls as young as 13 years old giving birth and a whole lot of others who are admitted after an attempted abortion gone wrong. According to a survey, a lot of Simon is born every year.
And the only thing we are doing is give a big sigh and say 'Poor Simon'.
I was going through my old files and I came across something I wrote ages ago. I thought I will post it here before I erase it from my files
In my small room, in my small house, there is my small study table. I don't know from where it was brought or who kept it there. I just know that from the time I can remember, it was there unchanged and firm. On that table I have a old ink stand, I guess it is as old as the table itself.
This table is the important part of my life. As I grew up, I started studying more and more and the space on my study table got less and less. I can still remember, a few years back, my table got only some few thin books on it. As time passed by, these thin books were replaced by thick ones and the number of books also increased with passing time.
I cannot increase the size of my table but everyday I try to find and makeup some spaces to keep my new books. The size of my study table remains the same every time and will remain the same all the time but I try to expand the space on my study table.
This study table is important to me so instead of replacing it, I try to expand the space on my study table. I believe that I can have enough space on my study table even for an encyclopedia. The only thing I have to do is try find space for my books.
Sometimes my table gets so packed up that I feel like throwing away my old ink stand to make up some space but I know that is not possible. The ink stand is as important as the study table to me.
The inkstand came with the table and will stay with the table.
Everyone has their own table and their own unique inkstand. The only thing they have to do is make up space on the table and care for the inkstand.
31th December, 2009
………………Its New Year eve and I am here all alone hooked to this computer, trying to figure out myself……………… As I open my arms and my heart to welcome the year 2010, I wish others and myself a very happy and prosperous new year………………….
1st January, 2010
………….. sometimes the feeling of not belonging drag you down, ………… you fear……………… And things just find their own place and start belonging to the other something…….
…………………. one long day sleep and I feel like I haven't been living on this planet for years.
I have come up with a New Year resolution today “I will try to screen out the things I say”. A jester should always know her place……………….
2nd January, 2010
………………………………. I feel bad and good at the same time.
And one more thing, I think I will have to stop eating chicken for few days (winks).
I can still remember how I used to dislike my brother when he took over my favorite place to sit- my grandpa’s lap. Next, he was playing with my toys, reading my fairy tales and even started going to my school. I really didn’t want my brother to hang around me , especially at school. As soon as my friends found out about him,I felt like they liked him more than they liked me. I was mad, mad at my brother and my friends.
He followed me to my primary and then my secondary school. I never told some of my friends about my brother being in the same school, but now I know that they always knew about him all along. They thought that it was very weird of me to forgot to tell them about him.
Then I was in high school and he followed me there too. I was little upset at first but hey, he is my brother. This time, I made sure that everyone else knew about my brother.Soon, I had this some kind of weird feeling, a feeling that never creeped into me before, somehow I knew I was feeling proud, proud that I had such a lovely brother.
Just yesterday, he calls me, telling me that he will be going to college in Sri-lanka. He asked me if I am okay with his decision. I said, its fine with me if its fine with him. I still can’t believe that he has grown old enough to be leaving home (even mom finds it terrifying), but yet, I am a proud sister here.
I do have to confess something- For the first time in my life, I am upset that he had decided not to follow me to my college too .
God keep him safe at all times.
My cousin (she is 8) has been saying lots of funny things lately , thought I might share some here….
Few days back, she comes to the kitchen while I was cooking, watches me carefully for quite sometime and says " Ana, I can be a better cooker than you are." I could just laugh and say "bet you can"
We were playing snow at dochula, when she comes and announces " Mo om lok deykhai, ja feet finger khurla"
One evening my uncle treated us ( we had lots of pizza) and my little cousin was there too. She was eating her share when my mom asked " Baby, ajang ga hang yekpay?". So she quickly turns to face uncle and said, " Zhimpu la na". I thought she was going to thank him for the pizza
Well, she comes to me on yet another evening and asks " movie singma thur sowala thong ma mo?". so i asked her the name of the movie and she replies " Yue ki B-H-U". i thought they might have made a movie based on the basic health unit somewhere but later i found out that it was "Yue ki bhu"
I was watching the rain fall on my window pane and listening to the rhythm of the sounds made by the rain, when my brother ( he is 15) hands me a book titled " Preparing to die" , and with a big grin says " You better read it first, you are older than me". He might have meant to say , since i m older, i will die before he does. i just took the book from him without commenting . Now i know i was so stupid to do so. This was what happened last summer when i was back home.
I have heard people say “Death doesn't care how old you are, how rich you are, how clever you are etc etc". Now i see and i know death really doesn't care. i see people of every age, every race , every status die everyday. Sometimes i even start to think that life doesn't have any value, death is everything that matters. i am being taught to take death as a natural part of life, but when i see someone losing their life, others losing their love, there is nothing natural about it.
A few days ago, there was a lecture on the topic “Preparing your client for dying”. As the lecture was half way through, i was half way through thinking “Am i prepared to die?". The professor asked us to answer three questions “when do u want to die?" "how do you want to die?" and "where do you want to die?". i am still thanking god that the professor didn't pick me to share my answer with the class ( lucky or unlucky me??). Nowadays, in the pretext of learning how to prepare others to die, i m learning how to prepare myself and constantly keeping myself reminded that i should be ready too.
I still got one more thing to do. I will have tell my brother that I have started reading the book and that he should also start reading it too..
A boy of about 10 years old goes to every person he sees asking for money in the street. i couldn't stop wondering where his parents were. Some people were kind enough to spare him a baht or two, some didn't even care to look down . i was there in the street looking for my friends who got lost in the crowd or maybe i got lost. I called the boy and gave him 20 or 30 baht ( i don’t remember well, i am suffering from goldfish syndrome). He left and i also walked around looking for my friend. i couldn't find my friends but i was surprised to see the boy again, this time he was calling me. Then i got another surprise, he shyly handed me a pretty red rose and said " Thank you for the money, i will make sure I give it to the person i am collecting for" i asked him who he was collecting the money for and then he pointed to a blind man sitting by the pavement. i was dumb-struck at that moment. i went along with him to hand over the money to this man. The boy was emptying his pocket, when a woman rushed to the boy. She told me that he has walked away when she was buying some fruits. He was lost too.
i realised i met a cute little boy with a very big heart.
It feels good to be back home but it would have been better if I was not down with cold during my first week here and if some of my friends were back home too( Now, now SZ,UC and JW please dont say "we told you so") but i have to admit i do look cute with the red nose.
Whatever is happening or whatever is not, i m glad that i am back home even if it is going to be for a while. Now i can watch what my brother are up to eveyday ( can't believe that they have outgrown me or have i shrunk?). Grandmom has become crazier than before, dad more absentminded than before, mom more restless than before, puppy gooffier than before and thimphu dustier than before( am i the only one who thinks this?)
The only thing that hasn't changed are the two trees outside my house. Dad once said the trees are bending away from the house because the trees were angry with me. Guess those trees are still angry with me.
" It feels great to be back home where I don't feel alienated"
One of my friends was lecturing me on the how important it is to have the will to do anything. She ended her lecture with the following quote:
"Where there is a will, there is a way and if there is no way, u can always hire a bulldozer"
So, here i am in the library again thinking what to do. The room is so quiet except for the sound of the air conditioner and the flipping of the pages by people nearby. The room is filled with shelves, shelves filled with books and every where i turn, i can see people long lost in pages. Why am i not lost?? That is because a friend for mine took all my notes for photo copying, so i am waiting for him to return my notes. So where was i?? Oh! people lost in pages, at that moment i started thinking since when did i start spending so much time in library, since when did all the librarians here started recognising me and since when did the security guard at the door start smiling at me… and then i got the answer.. ever since my friends started telling me lots of ghost stories, i started spending more time in the library. It may sound funny, but i thought maybe, the so called ghosts won't try to frighten me if there were lots of people around.. hehe.. silly me…
When you have a angry friend nearby, a sick friend in hospital, 43 naughty toddlers to care for, piles of book to read, half done assignments,exams after a week and have to take crash course every day, do u guys get stressed?( even superman will get stressed i think). so how do you guess cope of with the stress??
Well, i tried sleeping but it didn't work( maybe i shouldn't have drank two cups of black coffee before i tried to sleep). Then i tried going for a walk only to see lots of other guys studying in the pavilions nearby( you guys should have seen the look on my face). i even tried eating ( yucky, who would like eating squids, when one cannot figure out what to do) and mind you guys i don't like jogging or playing games. No friends of mine were available to talk and play around with me ( guys, they have to study for exams). i couldn't even chat because my doctor said that staying a long time infront of the computer is not good for my eyes( or is it because there is some problem with msn messenger and druknet, and i forgot my yahoo ID..). Watching T.V also didn't work because Disney channel has some tranmission problem ( i dont like watching BBC when i am bored to death, and no other channels are available in english language). So, finally i decided i will write something here but i didn't know what to write. i thought for sometime but nothing strike my empty head. Guess what guys….i think i am writing something finally. And about my stress, i think i dropped it somewhere, when i was trying to figure out what to do…if any one finds it, you can give it to the most deserving person here.i dont want it….
Last night I was so bored that i did something i shoudn't have done. I spray painted my hair only to realise that it won't go off when washed with soap and water and i was out of shampoo.. So at about 11:30 pm i had to run to the nearest shop to get some shampoo with a very funny looking hair- wet, half of it pink and half of it blue. On top of it i realised that i was still in my night gown only after i reached the shop.. What a disaster.. i just hope people were so busy looking at my hair that they didn't care to see my face….
Today we had a birthday party again and as usual it was drinking session and to my disappointment no food or potato chips (i do eat a lot). So here the girls (4 of us) are saying, we will do with coke and we dont want to drink but the birthday boy starts complaining and tries to tell us why we should drink, atleast a little. He says that since we are all sharshops we should drink atleast a little. He says that we are spoiling the name of sharchops back in bhutan.
i was just wondering why is that we should drink if we are a sharchop. Is it true that sharchops drink day and night (i mean the people back in village)? i never been to my village, so i dont know what happens around there.
I am writing down one of my memories again.
When I was studying in class 9 and 10, I used to be little naughty. During those days, the word 'tonight' used to bring those naughty smiles on my, my brothers' and my cousins' face. it was our secret code. Neither of u guys would be able to imagine, for what we used that code.
Last summer when I went back home for my holidays, my cousin came to stay with during the weekends. While having lunch one day, she whispered “tonight" in my ear. I couldn't stop laughing. I did do something weird that day. I didn't wait for tonight to arrive. I just walk to the kitchen in middle of the day and filled my mouth with milk powder. My cousin laughed a lot that day. I laughed too. The sad part of all is that I didn't like the taste of milk powder that day( I think I have become different from what I used to be)
Mother used to say that laughing at others is not a polite thing to do. I never felt that way until I m getting laughed at every day. Being a foreigner in the class is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Firstly I don’t understand what friends around are saying and the worst thing is I don’t understand about 70% of my professor's lecture. Just visualize me with my mouth half open when my Ajan (professor) is giving us direction to do something. If I try to speak English to others, they show me their “what the hell are you telling “face and if I speak their language, they laugh at every sentence I say. So I usually keep my mouth shut.
On top of all that, all the ajans are always picking on me all the time, esp. that biology ajan. Every time he has a question and no one else could answer him, he says " where are those Bhutanese students (2 of us but the other rarely shows up for class)". Now can I answer, most of the time I don’t understand what he is asking and even if I understand the questions, I don’t know the answers (biology was easy in high school, not any more).just recently he says " give me three reasons to prove that mitochondria and chloroplast are kind of bacteria". I said " I didn't even know that mitochondria and chloroplast are bacteria" ( just answered in their language….all broken as I call it). He just gave me that "I thought so" look and gave me a link where I can find everything about it.
After staying at this place for two years I still doubt whether I should have come here in the first place and I ask to myself everyday "Do I really belong here?"
9th November, 2007, Friday, 9 am..OMG, my chemistry lecture started an hour ago(i.e at 8). 'If I take a quick shower and skip breakfast I can atleast attend the lecture for an hour' I thought to myself. So I took a quick shower,grabbed my notes from the untidy table of mine and ran. It was only after I reached near the science block when I realised that I have left my timetable with other sheets, so there was no way I could find my lecture hall now. It was 9:15 now, 40 minutes left for the lecture to end. I decided I will not attend the lecture,so I walked to the library.
In the library, I saw something that made me feel guilty for not doing my duty as a student properly. I was going through the 'bangkok times' when I saw him sitting nearby. A happy and a satisfied face scribbling something on his note sheets. I can make out that what ever he is writing down, he is doing with great interest. Lots of other students were doing the same but he caught my interest. This was because he was on the wheel chair. I heard from someone else later that both of of his legs are paralysed.I just watched him with interest for about 15-20 minutes. After sometimes , he looked as his watch, collected all his books and went out of the library(he probably was going for class I thought.it was 10 am now). I noticed that he uses his bare hands to make the wheel chair move.I am sure his hands must hurt a lot once he reaches his class, but still he attends his class. Look at me, I have all my legs and hands functioning properly but still I am always late for all of my morning class. By looking at his face I could say that he has no complains about anything but allI I do is complain.
After this encounter with him, I realised something very important,something that cannot be taught in a class room. I realised that I do not appreciate the real me, I just try to be what others want me to be. I realised that I dont appreciate what I have, I just want what others have. But now I feel a little different. That guy on the wheel chair has shown me something different. Now I have deicided I will do my duty as a student well and I will never miss my classes. Today I reached library at 8am and I saw the same guy on the wheel chair there. I just smiled at him and he smiled back. He must not have realised it but I learned something very important from him