Hi, Sonam (name changed)
Well today I could not stop myself from writing this to you. Do you know, at some phases of my life I loved u so much to the extent of betting my own life for you? I really feel foolish now because I loved you so much that it bored you to hell. You were the pioneer of those three golden words which I felt for only you.
Now after this big heartache, I am doing better in rectifying myself and I have quite progressed in this assignment of forgetting you. Whatever happened to my heart, whatever happened to my eyes from weeping for you and whatever happened to my life from falling in love with you is solely my fault.
Hope you will soon meet your perfect match and I will be always hoping on a hope that you will be always happy.
“When you are Young and Stupid you stumble on your first love….then he breaks your heart and it takes you to grow Old and Wise to realize that It was just a mere infatuation”
I am confident that every one of us is aware of whose money is our salary? However, as a matter of sharing and reminding, it is people’s money. In other words, it is hardships and sweats of people collected in the form of taxes. Farmers pay land tax, house tax, firewood tax, etc. Civil servants pay income tax. Business people pay business income tax. Corporation pays corporation income tax.
In short taxes are people’s money. But who are the people paying taxes? The answer is you and I. Then whose money is the taxes? The answer is “our” money.
Could we say government is paying us salary? And who is the government? We (you & I) are the government. Who are you and I? Answer would be the People of Bhutan. Who are the people of Bhutan? The answer is farmers, civil servants, parliamentarians, private and corporate employees, business people, etc. Infact, all the citizen of Bhutan are government and the people of Bhutan.
Having understood this complex system, are we justifying our salary? I have often seen and heard people saying why to care government’s money like one’s own money? It is important to understand whose money is our salary and how much each individual contributes for Nation and important to ask question to ourselves if are we justifying receiving our salary.
It is also necessary to ask ourselves, to whom we are working for as an employee? Is it for government or to fill the stomach of self?
He and I worked in the same office for eight years, until he changed his job and left the office. Though he was senior to me by several years, we became good friends. By friends, I mean, he embraced me in his friendship as an equal to a man, seen and perceived like a man. I don’t think there was even one moment where he saw me as a girl. He would pat me on my back and treat me like a little brother to him. The joy of sharing such friendship is that, there is closeness and openness that can make you share everything without having to worry about what you may look like to a man. You are stripped of all artificial emotions and gestures, and you are simply yourself.
Then, after he resigned from my office, I did not meet him for five years. It is surprising that we did not even attempt to make contact. Looking back at it now, I wonder if we did not feel the vacuum. The emptiness of someone close having left all of a sudden. It seems unbelievable and unnatural that we should have remained without contact for five years. But our friendship was pure; we had no expectations from each other. While we were together, we were together. And then, when things had to change, it had to.
Then one day, suddenly, after five years, when I was running through the thoughts of buying a second hand car, he pops up in my office. He was right in front of me, unannounced, and real. He volunteered to take me and help me scan the possible market and there again – off we went riding his bike, like two young boys, swinging in the air. And that is when the twist happened. I can’t really remember how it first started, but the next time we realized, we were more lovers than friends. And since then, we have remained true to each other, this time, love encircling us and promising us better days together.
We have plans to get married. That way, we will be sealing our love, and making a bigger commitment as adults to be there for each other, every day, till the end. But now, I am here, studying, far from him, separated by long, uncountable distance. But, it does not mean that we are not in each other’s thought. When we love someone, there is always a way to show it and when you love someone so truly, you find that nothing is impossible.
It was my birthday few days back and early in the morning, someone was knocking on my door. It was a flower delivery and there I was, showered by red roses and chocolate. I was totally taken by surprise. He had arranged a flower delivery by making an over-seas call. This was no small gesture for me. I was totally touched and I felt like I fell in love with him thousand times over. Do you know what I mean? It was like, love toppled me over, and over and over, till I was dizzy and I was going crazy loving him. And now, I can’t wait to finish my two years of study and go back. I miss the warmth of his hug, the sweet touch of his lips. I miss seeing his silly smile; and most of all I miss him.
Author’s note: a story of a friend. The way she received flowers and chocolate on her birthday from her fiance who is overseas inspired me to write it here.
The firmament clad in the thickest clouds,
Foretell bleak ambience tonight.
Anon, dusk ushers in unannounced,
And bid cheerio to the fading twilight.
The darkness gallops on its stallion,
It exorcizes last remnant of the sunlight.
Then, the gentle breeze mournfully weeps,
For the unwelcome intrusion of the darkness.
Unwillingly, people retire behind their closed doors,
Fleeing defeated by darkness invasion.
Plethora of tiny creatures endeavour their escapade,
Against dark icy hands and dead sentence.
Outside, dogs bark nonsensically,
Grumbling against darkness despondency.
Inside, nocturnal mice begin their foray,
Wisely shielded by darkness as blessing in disguise.
Suddenly, torrential rain escapes from the firmament bondage,
Drenching everything as it touches, unsparingly.
Wicked and gusty wind accompanies the firmament fugitives,
Exacerbating nightly punitive manifold.
Lam Karpo was a great yogi and saint in 8th century. After he passed away, finding of his reincarnation was very difficult to his followers.
Two years passed away and there was no sign of his reincarnation. After three years, many parents from different district came to prove their child for the great Lama’s incarnation. Lam karpo’s followers had a set of strict questions to be answered and many observations to be made to prove that the child is real reincarnation.
At the mean time, the man who lived nearby Lam’s temple had a plan. He was very humorous man. He was very great fan of Late Lama’s spiritual wife.
Coincidentally the man had a boy who was around 2 and half years old. The man wanted to create some jokes with them.
He told that his boy was showing some sign of sipiritual interest. The Lama’s followers made an appointment to meet the child. The man had seen all sort of questions asked to identify the reincarnation.
Before taking his kid to the temple, the man had told all answers to his son. The man also told how to identify the items, and all sorts of questions.
After reaching the temple, the boy was asked many questions, but he answered. He also identified all items. Actually that was how his father told him to do.
The followers ask last question. “where is your wooden cup that you use daily?” The boy replied “My father didn’t tell me that answer” ….all laughed.. hahhahha
These days I feel that I have lost my voice… not literally but I am not able to voice my feelings any more. I am not able to share my feelings with anyone. It’s not that I don’t have friends or close ones but they would not understand what I feel and also because I don’t want to burden them with my problems. I feel I am being bullied and misunderstood. Whatever I do, I am being criticised and finding faults in everything. Even though my intentions are good, but I am made to feel that I am not good enough. Sometimes, I don’t know where I have landed or how I ended up being treated like this.
Am I the only one who needs to compromise? Am I doing the right thing by taking things silently? Or will it lead to more troubles in future? Why am I being taken for granted? I didnot used to be like this but I feel so weak now. I want to end it now but again I have to think of so many people who are dependent on me and their happiness. For now, I will take it as long as I can bear it physically and mentally. I will keep a smile on my face for the sake of others and pretend to be dumb.
Entangled are our fingers, feet on one counted step alike,
Walking the street with smile of one reason, custody of each other,
Frequent checks with wallet, to lessen irrelevant purchase she makes,
And regret for reason she can’t find, why she bought the things,
Giving me courage to call her a thoughtless girl, but with a deep love inside.
Dress she wore, the best attire we choose to fit her face print,
Outer and inner apparel are then held on, the best we both can see,
Slipper and boots, a seasonal channel change, the choice of her,
And, what other say to her looks, is what touches my romance,
Pulling my strength to call her a thoughtless girl, but with love in my speech.
Home care, decoration, arrangement are the chores of weekends,
Heavier if the thing is, my name always rings, to push it,
Lighter if is, proudly she moves with guidance and arranged with respectable line,
Making the home, change its looks, many times a month, frequent in a year,
Hurting my emotion to call her a thoughtless girl, with attachment eternal.
Kitchen queen, a dish of choices tabled, sometimes a home reflection food,
Though with sweat dripping, sweet aroma rushes, with song tune along,
Calling sometimes to open a can, which after decade of practice she could not,
When dark, to close the curtain, for her soft heart to be bold to cook alone,
Pushing me into her to call a thoughtless girl, with care enormously.
Weekends, though an early alarm clock calls, waking late is her habit,
Kid climbing on her messy hair, making her scream but nothing disturbs,
Until, a loud noise of playing thud comes from me and son,
Letting her wake up, with one eye still closed, a blink of anger to us,
Hesitantly, I call her a thoughtless girl, with a same wink on my eye.
Frequent as shooting star, her anger strikes his mouth,
Changing her tune of speech, sometimes which makes us shed tears,
Mostly a word of fun, to bring back the lost love by force of anger,
And in real anger, a person, not to be disturbed, just not to add on fuel,
Fearfully I call her a thoughtless girl, but a word of emptiness, of no reason.
Never wish there be a day I want to be away from her,
“Thoughtless girl” though I call her, I count on our decision, her power,
As she is the mother to our home, an icon to lend lap, when in moods,
Quick her thinking moves, the better the consequences,
And happier we are, luckier we become and peacefully we can lie,
Together towards the line of death, satisfied, and with prayers to match again.
I believe love starts to grow only after everything bas dramatically been broken apart for no pain is greater than that of love in vain.
Rigden fall in love with Yuden when they were in their school. It was late winder morning of year 1998 right after the school reopened after the winter break, when Rigden set his eyes for the first time on Yuden. He was washing his plates near by the girls’ hostel when their eyes met and he was simply smitten by her. Thereafter there was no looking back…
The next day he thought on thinking about her and even thought of expressing his feelings to her through a long letter, a “love letter” as it was called. The day was perfect with the sun radiating the window and with his hands rested on the window sill he kept on thinking about her beautiful face. Whenever he thought of her, which he often did, he could not resist the bitter sweet feeling of love and his thoughts about her appeared in his dreams too. Sometimes he would even spend sleepless nights, always thinking about her.
On the next day Rigden meet Yuden again in the same location while he was fetching water. That day was perfect for him to meet her and try to talk to her. She looked beautiful than ever with a golden ring on her left middle finger and sliver painted ring sparkling on her ears. Rigden greeted to her and as she walked straight towards him, he could not hide his excitement.
“Hi! Yuden,” Tobden, greeted with a smile.
“Hello!” She replied with taint of blushed face too.
“You are Yuden right?” he asked.
“Yes; I am Yuden,” she replied.
And then he told her that she looked very beautiful to his eyes and she simply laughed. As she walked away towards her hostel carrying a bucketful of water she was still blushing from an unexpected compliment.
The next during the afternoon tea break he met Dema. Dema was Tobden’s childhood friend and they grew up together. As they chatted for a while, she casually teased him that he looked lost which made him open up and he told her that he met a beautiful girl the previous day and that he is madly in love with her. She wanted to know her name was he didn’t dare reveal it. He simply told her that he is very much in love with a girl and that he is a lucky person to have found her. He was sure of himself that he has found his soul mate. But no matter howsoever she tried, he was not ready to reveal the name.
But she was not ready to give up. She kept on asking and finally he had to say the name.
“She is none other than Yuden of class VIII B,” he revealed at last.
Dema was simply astonished! She knew that Yuden was Tobden’s girl which was all that she was worried about. When she told him this he was all shattered. He had never imagined that his love would be broken this way.
The next Saturday afternoon he met Yuden while he was on the way to the canteen. By then he was a familiar face to her and she greeted him and asked him what was wrong as he looked little pale. He thought it was best to act normal and said that everything was OK with him.
But the fact was he was normal no more. He was so shattered and heart broken that nothing mattered to him. He could not concentrate on anything and gradually lost interest in his studies and failed in exams. So devastated he was that he lost interest in everything and became addicted to drugs.
One day he was admitted to a hospital and died in the same day in the name of Yuden. The teacher called his parent to attend the death body. Next day death body was taken away by his parents and students and teacher performed prayers for his departed soul.
I had often heard speaking of more jobs in the job market than the available job seekers. It made me wonder and question myself, is it really true? If it is true, why the people are saying the government could bring down unemployment rate to 2.3 which was achieved more than targeted? Atleast to me, it sounds like, we have to struggle further to create more jobs.
And the other reason often spoken for the youth unemployment is mismatch between the available jobs and the tastes, irrelevant studies and trainings carried out by the youths. If it is so, why did not the authority have been put a system in place to pursue studies where the studies are relevant to the job available?
A farmer working in the field is a job. An uneducated person guarding a school campus as a caretaker is a job. But do we expect graduates to work in field of like farmers and consider it a job?
If this is a case, it would be like a person rearing cow for many years to serve the purpose of dog for barking and not for milking. Although educated farmers may be better than uneducated farmers, don’t we think that it is a waste?
I have seen and heard that some of the parliamentarians were rising the point in the parliament that, they are like a guest for the term of five years and if not selected in coming parliament, how they will find job as they are already resigned from the civil service and not allowed to work again in civil service by the rules once resigned.
The irony is that if they consider everything what one do is job, they are allowed to work in private sectors, they can also work in field like farmers and take that as their job. And these confuse me.
In conclusion, in my opinion it is better to convey the message to the youths correctly by saying “there are jobs but one should compete for it and better ones will be/are given preference which may lead to competition in studies by the students who are currently studying and it will lead to better citizen of the Nation.”
Thousand miles, though I crossed away from thee,
Never a single minute I forget, so like unending wave of sea.
Days counted on a torn calendar on my room wall,
I long to meet, to hear your voice, to see you grow tall.
Best friend we will be, and do naughty, together and same,
Walk the same step, and conquer the success and fame.
I promise, never to let us be away neither too far in bed,
We will dream on a pillow, smile on same sprit to sad.
Your mother, my wife, we shall include her name in our prayer,
Her health is our happiness, and smile for her best care and dear.
Our home, your heaven, the palace we belong to, from birth,
We keep bright and warm, for our safety for impossible dearth.
Blessed am I to have you on my lap, with great hope,
Never would there be any negative, your words I judge top.
Among best, the offers I will make to you are better,
To let not gloomy face overcome, but to keep always sweeter.
Best will be the time, when we pass it together with care,
The better time, we continue with beauty in love and live near.
Let the prayers, I beg continue the journey to reach the blessing images,
To shower us, his best enrichment for our long life together.
“Yes for yes and no for no. Cat is cat and dog is dog.”
Suppose a contractor was favoured by the tender committee to win the contract, and later found out by the authority that power has been misused by the committee but only after the said construction has been completed. Now who would be accountable for corruption; contractor or tender committee?
It is my personal opinion with the limited knowledge in my domain of brain; the people involved in tender committee are accountable as they are paid to render services to the people with fairness and transparency, in accordance with the rules and regulations, etc. In short the tender committee should not favor anyone and should say yes for yes and no for no.
Although in many cases, our Bhutanese laws sometimes interpret an apple as a banana and vice versa, and sometimes that same apple is even interpreted as an orange by the same interpreter at the same time and situation, this is a pure case of conflict of interest and the tender committee should be held fully accountable.
In same line, going by my interpretation the allotment committee should be held accountable whatever case may be; allotment of land, allotment of houses, allotment of jobs, awarding of tender, etc. as the very purpose of having committee is to evaluate the things properly, correct it, provide justice and not to favor anyone, and to say yes for yes and no for no.
With tears rolling down my cheeks,
Pain overflowing in my heart,
My love just slipped off my hand.
With sorrow and sadness brimming in my heart,
Sweet pain visibly stinging my eyes,
My girl left for someone else.
With memories lingering in my mind,
Emptiness filling my soul,
My lady walked out of my life.
With numbness spreading through my entire body,
Loneliness reigning my entire existence,
My empress abandoned me insufferably.
With appetite suppressed on my mouth,
Sleep stolen form my eyes,
My darling betrayed me unforgettably.
Once there lived a wonderful son, and a mighty father.
They had a horse which was used to carry their luggage’s.
And they also used it for their amusement in horse-riding.
One day the horse got pregnant, and a day came when finally she was about to give birth.
When father was feeding fodder to the horse, the little son came and insisted
“I want to ride that pony (little horse), when it is born”
The father was so angry and replied “You will break the little pony’s back”
And the father gave a nice blow to his son, and he almost fainted out of pain.
“The anecdote was that, the little pony was not ye born”…hehehe
“Are we optimistic to curb corruption and do we feel we can stop corruption in Bhutan?”
I have seen and listened to many people talking about zero tolerance on corruption. And I have seen lots of awareness programmes were being hosted on curbing corruption.
I did not see farmers talking about value of curbing corruption. But the leaders and civil servants were seen so many times giving lectures, guiding and giving advices on do’s and don’ts, good and bad, etc. about corruption.
In my opinion, farmers are not able to talk on corruption because they did not have any experiences on corruption and leaders talking so patiently and dedicatedly on corruption because one has seen some practicing corruptions and through their own experiences. As such I do feel, it could be better poorest farmer from Bhutan may be invited to give lecture on how to avoid corruption as they don’t practice corruption despites they are in need of many things; definitely rich people have comfortable life but why the poor farmers wont practice corruption to become rich?
I personally feel, there could be some truth in farmers not practicing corruption despites they don’t enjoy even basic needs sometimes and the rich and educated people hunt for so many unlimited wants leading to corruption.
In my feeling, I do not think Bhutan can stop corruption by giving lectures and awareness by the leaders and educated people on zero tolerance to corruption unless poor farmers may be invited to reveal the truth they practice to avoid corruption and inform the nation how he or she does not practice corruption despite the fact they do not even have basic need.
Writer’s note: It is just my personal expressions as every human has got their right for expressing what they feel, and no not of intention to hurt anyone, even the minute creatures existing in this world.
What is a poem?
Someone says… poem,
Is powerful words expressed,
through agony of a broken heart
during the struggle
when love is but pain.
Nothing is neither right
nor wrong when it
comes to the title of a poem,
It can bring a theme of passion.
from sorrow down to happiness.
A poem is the hardest sentence
That comes from
Our lamented heart;
Poems are sometimes called
Thrilling words of tragic sadness,
Words are expressed silently
From our heart to
Give a fire in a man’s brain
Nothing is harder than an epigram,
Greater than sorrow;
Softer than pain.
Pathetic word of a poem;
saw the seed to germinate anew.
to one another sorrow.
That of time we all called it paradox.
Poem is the greatest word,
Spoken by a man,
A poem is read by deaf and dumb
Felt by those who suffer the same pain.
When a man’s boredom is uprooted
into the words of acceptance,
And a poem comes as a purpose of a man.
The power of writing poems ruled the heart
As much as human feel the truth of elegy.
Now a man cannot write a poem
Unless he lived through tragic sadness once….
IN all, a poem is the greatest pain expressed!
It is just my personal opinions and I do not intend to hurt anybody.
Few months before I have read in newspapers regarding the so called prostitutes being caught by police officials and put under police custody and the case being forwarded to court for justice.
Well, I appreciate the duties carried out by police officials as they are mandated; but I just wonder who has studied the situation put into the shoes of these so called prostitutes. Were they compelled to do it or was it out of no other options?
In my opinion, firstly, it is against basic human rights. Secondly, they may have indulged in such activities not out of their own will but because they did not have any other options.
Few things we need to ask; do these so called prostitutes have other jobs? Do they get enough care from parents or relatives or the society at large. Do they have sufficient land to works on? So many questions pop in my mind…
I guess they engage in such activities because they have to have something to sustain their life. It is the mandate of police officials to arrest them but whose responsible it would be study more about them so that we solve such social problems?
“…….yea I am smiling but inside I am dying.” Someone truly said and this is the pain that he has been going through for the past three years. His fate cheated him and he is led on an ironical path to his destiny. Every night he endured loneliness and wished he has a different journey to his destiny. He used to walk outside at the middle of the night and look up into the sky at the brightly shone moon and silently whisper “good night”. He would read love stories and found out that they have similar ending. He smiled and said “mmmh…my love story has a different ending.” He fell in love with a virtual friend three years ago. She appeared in his dream and before he could express how he felt, his friend woke him up. And he never got a chance to express and he never shared with anyone. The fact that his mind never gave up over that matter made his belief over karma and true love stronger. He had fallen truly for her but due to his own shortcomings he never proposed. He feared that she might reject him, she was just a virtual friend, and he thought that he may not be able to keep her happy. He hid the pain and never showed to anyone. But, one day while having conversation, she asked whether he loved someone. He blushed out and didn’t answer, she knew by his answer and asked “who is the girl?” He shook his head, but she insisted…..He said, ‘it is YOU’…Silence dominated the scene. He said, “I am sorry that I said this to you. I know you are happy with your boy. I a….mmm…sorry..” And he walked away his eyes filled with tears.
I knew not you’re in the heart of broken yore
The trust of thy is shaken
Till the end of burning pyre is taken.
I can see the smoke on top of the wind
Floating like the stratocumulus;
Those smoke does not belong to me
It all belongs to the mortal death.
Oh! Son, be the tearless man to cry;
Before I was burn to ashes.
But my sickness won’t be last long.
I am happy that thou saw my death!
Has come from all angle;
To grieve at my eternal leave taking.
Truth of death never lie;
It keeps on stretching with the streak
Only angle of death must tell you the absent.
Feel the knot of thy death knell;
When everything is decay for the warm to feed
I lay propped against the wall of my shanty hut, trying to overcome tediousness and boredom. Meanwhile, I endured the sweltering heat of the summer inside the house. Partly lighted by the last remnant of the sunlight, before its final respite behind gigantic and majestic mountains, I tried to pen down my inner feelings and emotions spontaneously. My shanty hut may look small, but it’s compacted with lots of things, exceeding its normal capacity. Things lay strewn and haphazard everywhere, creating perfect hide and seek place for mice and insects.
Timely, I had to steady and adjust myself properly to write with the help of faint and dim light pouring through opened door. My hands are burning excruciatingly, which ensued due to handling of chilies earlier, yet I am not deterred to quell my writing spree. I have just begun to embody my inner feelings and emotions, so, I am determined to carry this task till the end, what may befall.
Now, light seems to be fading gradually, as I struggled to strain my eyes in presence of weak light. I could see mice getting rough and tough, chasing one another speedily; flies have been annoying, distracting and frolicking unreasonably all the time, and an army of ants busily collecting and hoarding foods. Seeing all these things unfold in my presence injects allergic and eerie feeling in me.
Nonetheless, I am hoping for gentle breeze to swift into my shanty hut. But nothing came, leaving me sodden with my own sweats. I felt like I am being burned inside blazing furnace. At the same time, I am getting uncomfortable and uneasy continuing my task of penmanship. But, I am not going to abandoned it anyway.
My bums are getting sore, and calves are hurting due to immobility for longer duration. Hence, I changed my sitting posture, ah! I feel lot better and at ease. I gazed at the roof, and unbelievably, only thin tarpaulin sheet and cartoons were sheltering me and things inside the house. All sorts of questions were brewing inside my mind such as: are they going to keep away rain? Are they going to survive the storm? Are they going to protect and guard durably? I was bit dubious and skeptical because I could see holes and gapes everywhere creating the pattern. Those gapes and holes cannot be gagged, plastered and mended, oh! God, heavy shower is going to transform my shanty hut into swimming pool; I am worried and afraid too.
As light gives way to twilight, innumerable insects come to seek unwelcome refuge within my house. I am aghast at the deluge of insects’ creeping into my hut, as if they are fleeing from darkness. I couldn’t do anything rather than unwillingly accept them as my companions or guests of the evening, though with mixed feeling. At the same time, houseflies are provoking my adrenaline, but I wouldn’t let if burst, because, these poor creatures are fulfilling their instinctive obligation, so, I promised, I won’t pour my wrath on them. On the other hands, mice are getting rowdy and indiscipline, taking advantage of darkness as their hiding shields. They transform the house into clamor insignia of their dominance. I remain helpless amid nocturnal insects and mice, rejoicing their part of the day.
Burning sensation inside my hands have not yet desist, indeed, its intensity has escalated manifold. Chilies seem to be insidiously eating my flesh, making me suffer like a fire of hell. Therefore, with perpetuating burning sensation, I put an end to my writing, indiscreetly buying time to soothe my burning hands.
I rejoice greatly in the environment, for having them encircle us and make us have a wonderful passage about new life. Their suffering and death for the benefits of mankind are incredible.
It is wonderful to see how the plants grow. From the little cute heart shaped seed to germinating serene plant to see sun and make environment that’ll let people romance. Romance for the benefit of our own and that we’ll not care whether they are stepped and crushed. And as I see the plants being not cared, I think of them speaking, trying to tell us what we must know:
I am helpless. I can’t speak to defend you. I bloom to beautify thy surrounding. I don’t care what I look like but you choose me to be here. You watered me when I was young and energetic. You touched me when I was fresh. You sniffed my leaves when it was able to dance to the rhythm of wind that was not frequent. I was overwhelmed when you were happy for me to see me come into buds. And I was over excited when your little son was smiling when I was decorated with little beautiful five red flowers.
It was my fifth day after I came into flowering plant. I was lonely from the beginning. I did not have friends to share my smile and wave at to share my happiness when you treated me like yours as ever. But what happened now?
Your little son gives fewer smiles. You never touch and sniff me, instead you have started giving me less water. I am suffering. I don’t have strength to hold my own leaves. My barks are darkening day by day. My head can’t hold its position. It is under compulsion to bend to see how dry my soil is. Please help me my lord. Let me live more and have dignity to be old and taken care of.
The day is uncertain for me when I’ll bear the greatest trauma of no soil to support my roots and no water to support my old leaves and I’ll be abandoned forever.
Let me face the dignity to return where I was grown. Let me give my body parts to future coming plants so that they can grow easily to benefit you as I have done. To let you keep me touching and sniffing. To let your little son constantly smile.