What is this new year bringing new in your life?

I began writing a story of my own when I was in first year. It was a story near to my heart. I could have written so much about, but soon I began to realize that there is so much to know about. Just having content wasn’t enough. Then I came to know about this blogging. It was so easy to publish what I want to share.

Today this is my fiftieth post here. With posts from some personal feelings to some stories, today I am a proud writer who however explored more of me more than I ever did. These writings have dragged me to the deepest wrath of burdening exploration to sentimental persuasion of things around me. Some posts are blatantly bad, while few are crude in its language but I claim they are the best to my own capability and love.

My posts here have been with me through thick and thin. Their companies will always be cherished throughout my life.

Photo courtesy :http://www.sodahead.com/

However the bad, life’s been, it still deserve a good deal of gratitude for the good things we had. Personally, 2010 was a big year to me. Of so many unexpected things caught my feet, but those stumbling blocks were equally pressed down with some happy things in life. I escaped so many harsh things while few beautiful things I lost. It’s time to forget and wait for another year. So folks, I wish you a great new year ahead. Let’s hope, we would be rich with so many things to share here amongst ourselves.

It was in 2004, I was in class ten. We needed to give our bio-data to BBE. Because I had an uncle who was holding a big post in government civil service, I got my identity card without having to submit a form which I need to get from a village gup. However, in the identity card, my age was increased by a year. There was no mentioning of date and a month. So here, my class teacher asks me what’s the date and the day I was born? I tell him that in my identity card, my age is been increased by a year. And there's no date and a day.

He takes a chalk and on a board, he writes “30 th December or 31 st December” and asks me “You need to have a date and a day. So which one of these two dates, you prefer?

http://www.slw.org/

After scratching my head, I think for sometime without knowing what to do with it.

“Moreover, the first dates of a new year are almost near to these two dates. It doesn’t change anything”

I knew it, that it doesn’t change anything except that I don’t know when was I exactly born, and now I am here getting a new birthday (hahahaha). First my uncle made me aged by an age and now my sir gives birth to me by giving me the new birthday dates.

“30 th December, sir”, since then, I am born on this day when the year ends.Spare me if i am being stupid here (hahahaha).

So as for me, it’s a new beginning at this day of a year. I am becoming older by a year. 

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Bhutanese Architecture; Vernacular and sustainable

Whenever people asks me, what is one place I want to visit in my life time, I always answered them that it should be Lhasa- you bet the kingly feeling as you sit at the top of the roof of the World and you feel like the whole creation is just flourishing right underneath it.

As unique as our culture, our architecture has also been the one of the most unique identities we have. It stands out so much, not just superficially and theoretically, but also in its practicability of usage. These dzongs, otherwise known as fortresses are the living monuments which just do not embody our long run of history events, but are the direct answer to how sustainable our architecture is without forgetting how beautiful and glorious they over look the valleys that which flourishes beneath them. In the past, they served as the capital place of protection and the sit to the head of the valley. The piousness has now increased to these fortresses being used as not just administration offices to the direct representatives of our noble king, but it is also the place for young monks to get educated, it has become nothing less than an abode of the religion of which we are all the ardent followers. Do we need any other evidence of sustainability of Bhutanese architecture then? And even our house, the traditional houses are closely built to be sustainable and they house ultimate sustainability.

The idea of sustainability is still a luxuries term in the world of architecture. Architects still see it as some fashionable subject at the moment. There is another indifferent approach towards making architecture environmental friendly and that’s making it Green. The challenge is that while sustainable architecture can be green, it’s never the same when we reverse the equation. The greenest buildings which rotates, and adjusts it orientation with conditions of climate, and dweller’s choice can never be sustainable if it costs more money and if the embodied energy into its production can be can never be acquired at the equal rate at which it is used. Sustainability takes into an account of conserving while it serves and saving while we can use it. It goes with idea of using what we can produce, thereby keeping future intact and if possible creating more for the future generation of ours.

Most of the traditional architecture is sustainable to certain extent or more. They embody the idea of long sustainability and true vernacularism through usage of locally available materials and techniques which tell many stories of our culturist approach in design. Our farm house have withstood the force of nature, our bridges do not just carry the exquisite details of painting and intricate elements, our temples aren’t merely guarding the beliefs of our sect, they also have evolved so much and politically upheld the sacred architecture of ours not to mention how these architectures, even if it’s a small farmhouse, it’s built with strict accordance to orientation of sunlight, wind and the our ever long superstitions. Mud and the wood are perhaps the most eco-friendly materials to build the houses. They not only are pollution free, but also cheap and reliable resources. The mud mortars, stone boulders carved manually, hand planed wooden members, and above all the nail-less architecture makes nothing but a very inexpensive sustainable houses. We don’t have just the sustainable buildings but we also have the luxury to do it almost cheaply.

Bhutanese architectures, traditionally, we never used metal nails to fix our doors or windows.  The doors even these days in rural areas, they either hang on something or they rest on a hole with an extra wooden member. Such hinging techniques prove so much of our beautifully expressed architecture, not to mention how our huge dzongs are also jointed by such delicate (or durable) piece of technique. They are innovative as well. The sliding on windows also do not use any other mechanized channels. The window sills are low so that it fits our way of sitting on the floor. Even on the shingles on the roof, these were held by the stones on them (because of which we normally had the low sloping roof which was not possible though in southern foothills where rainfall was extreme). The cornices are perhaps one of the most beautiful combination on our buildings, these cornices carry so much a load of trusses over them due to free nature of movement and agility. These are also responsible for distributing the strong wind forces and earthquake forces equally throughout the building skeleton. Perhaps one drawback our traditional farmhouse has is sanitation. Of course, it serve protecting domestic animals from dangerous predators, but it is so much a hazard to the sanitation with cows and pigs shedding right under the floor where we sleeps.

Now the era of concrete and steel has majorly dominated the market. The new techniques have conquered over the traditional due to easy and fast construction. The time when whole villagers gather and start building a house is way over except in few rural areas. Even to the facades which used to have a wonderfully crafted ekras made out of wooden frames with beaten bamboo pieces fixed over it with mud, we have concrete facades faking such details with falsifying paintings or with an elevated line of cement plasters. Wooden shingles are very much out of sight with iron sheets proving sturdier. Window sills have been raised to a meter or less, it doesn’t really allow the usage of natural light to a monk who is reading our religious sects by sitting on the floors. Well, as for the materials’ adverse affect to environment around, one can possibly be a witness to how harmful waste cement mixtures are to the vegetation and the soil. However with certain innovation, use of such materials are also considered sustainable though.

Our country needs infrastructures in almost every field to usher a new era of development, and we need builders and architects at larger scale to play a pivotal role. It is no mystery that tomorrow when we would have our country built using the same materials and techniques like others in the world do, we would by then think of innovating the global ideas of keeping buildings and spaces sustainable. It would be blessing if we would have not lost the real originality of our architecture then. Of course going by the norms and by-laws of our City Corporations, there’s so much a restriction on architect even trying to change the facade design of our architecture. It might restrict the innovation of architects though, but there can always be more fascinating and beautiful way to cross the river if not by a bridge. It can evolve, though, in a way it doesn’t deviate from the way it is and it upholds the same value and uniqueness. It’s a challenge to keep our traditional architecture sustainable, beautiful and sacred.


P.S: This article is published in The Asia Magazine..
you can read it here, Bhutanese Architecture: Vernacular and Sustainable

http://www.trekkingbhutan.com/-photo courtesy

http://bhutan2008.blogspot.com/l-photo courtesy

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I ain't a writer, but it doesn't stop me from writing

I am all done with exams and juries. It’s like I am almost into final year of my architecture course. Except for the dissertation which I need to submit at the end of the February, I don’t need to attend the classes until the first semester of my final year. And after the end of the jury for dissertation, my training for next five months starts. It will be full of fun and adventures making myself involved into the profession…..:)

But until then, I would be sitting at leisure except when I Google out and edit the verses in my research book. So basically I have lots of time to do so many things which would keep me engrossed and contained to.  But one most common activity or a thing into which I would be sticking myself on will be blogging (hmm…sounds so crazy with not many good entries so far in the blog and yet trying to shed out some more craps out of the empty vassal? Well for that, blame my passion for writing!). You know what? It never lets me put a break. I am not a kind of person who says myself that, you got to be kidding writing all these stuffs which doesn’t makes any sense and if it at all it does, it can’t be related to anyone in any god damn way. I like keeping myself running as if there is no end to the mile. Why should it be bothered so much when you know that after all it’s about how you learn to keep on trying and aspiring to live the things you dream of, no matter how bad it goes, you got to keep yourself doing things you like if not for others but for yourself. Yeah, if I can remember, I have read my own entries more than a dozen times. And I know these are always the ones I believed so much and took my valuable hours to keep on record.

But one thing is so obvious about this undying flame of desire to put things penned down, and that is- it’s not easy to write something useful; you can’t call yourself a writer with few pages you write. The pages without many stimulating things and without beautiful things to come up with, it doesn’t keep the flame undying anymore, it rather belittles the enthusiasm and even cheats folks who visit my writings expecting something beautiful. Poor language and a thin depth of content, it surely doesn't make one to wonder, but a giggle.The sheer lack of proficiency overrides the zeal. But I still prefer letting the path grow bigger no matter how barren it is left, there’s still a hitting road ahead. When the age defy me the physical virtuosity of life and muscle, I would come back once again to these worlds which I have frozen up in my own way, certainly in a way I like the most. It would then be considered worth to have kept the lines of life well tracked down. Someone said, if you think there’s no book which you like to read written, then you have to write it. And I believe, everyone’s tale is something unique to share with others.

The fright of not being able to get into it with what others like to call it-a good writing, or what readers like to read, it shouldn’t stop someone from writing. The literary attires are needed though to dress your thoughts and ideas, but most men are born naked. We all learn through time and through practice. Hopefully, I would be able to one day come out in a fashion everyone gets something to read from it.

I spent so many hours reading other’s work as well. It makes me realize how much I need to learn, and it drives me crazy to think that by the time I am able to write something so informative and beautiful, I would have learnt about so many things. It will be worth a journey.  

So folks, bear it or not, I am coming with many more craps beautiful writings.

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Make kids abler, success will follow!

From the great words of Baba Ranchor Dhass Chanchar, Make kids abler, success will follow.

3 Idiots, who haven’t watched the movie? I am sure many of us did, but if you haven’t yet, my friend, this is the best advice I can ever offer to you and I won’t regret it for giving you and you won’t for taking it seriously. Watch it, its one hell of a movie!

Well the movie could be remembered for many things to which viewers can relate to, I was caught flabbergasted and intrigued with the line at the of the movie, it read “Make kids abler, success will follow”.

And I was seriously thinking, not to mention how much I was absorbed and how much I loved the movie, did it read something so REALISTIC about human life? Yeah REALISTIC! Aren’t all success famished humans full of desires to achieve and ambitions to climb on? But what do we do to stand at the end with it?

The kid has returned home with marks he acquired. The parents are not happy with a kid for not being able to score more or greater marks even though he did well to pass. They bothered least that the least the kid expected from his parents was a pat on the back or a head for having passed it. It would have propelled him with a big encouragement to do it better next time surely to deserve a hug or a kiss from his parents. And from what I know, kids at young age are more sensitive to such human gestures. They grow up to what we make them out.

How many of us have passed our exams just by by-hearting the textbooks? I began it in junior school, and in middle secondary schools, I began to realize the value of understanding the faces behind the lines. It was crucial to try to seek shelter within the lines to actually get the true depth of the knowledge and wisdom. But then the pressure of fast approaching exams and last minute preparation most of the time culminated in me having to memorise things, and of course it did fair well. I passed the exams with good results. But what did that I acquired other than the marks? Do my academic scripts with all the good marks allow me to claim that I studied fully to substantiate the materials and have comprehended the most, if not almost all? I honestly feel that I have acquired nothing though I might have passed a lot.

The way Baba Ranchor Dhass explains the term called machine quite makes sense. What good it will be if one doesn’t understand what is machine, what machine can do, and how do we human relate with it? Only because we know how to define the machine doesn’t mean we understand the machine properly. It’s important to know what it means other than understanding it superficially. And he gets chucked out of the class to have made a funny explanation on the term “machine”. Many of us are like his professor. We are so much used to superficial things. There’s an old adage in Bhutanese folklore; Kanjur-Toenjur- Ta-Ra-Ra, Ka-kha-Gha-Nga, Nga-mashey (Religious text books, I can read, but alphabetical letters, I don’t understand).

While we have read the possible incidences that we are so much a part of a trend, what are the possibilities through which we would be able to stand along carrying the proud tag of being abler?  Is it a time to rethink our ways and try mitigating the resources with proper understanding of education? By the time we end our academic period, shouldn’t we also get the best of the sources we had than just passing to get some lucrative job with a degree that says so much otherwise? Let’s learn how to learn, not just to finish the pages.

 Photo courtesy : http://www.showbizgalore.com/

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A story of a same wine in different cups

Often many are intrigued with the beauty of the surrounding of one than a person one is inside. Even in the things of same inner depth and quality, often the character which draws a higher degree of differences is due to one’s status and one’s external beauties. There’s so much a little difference on the fact that whether one is beautiful wearing a most elegant face in the world or the one is a daughter of a poorest beggar that the real beauty of a beauty is a soul which resides inside the beauty. This small incident of which I really don’t know whether its root can be accountable true or not, but the message that it claims to give away is something that I really admired.

Two body guards were entrusted with a duty of a beautiful landlady. She was married, though, but the beauty that she wore was blissful and her euphemism   ensnared anyone out of their normal self. She was the height of beauty, one of the living epitomes of how a mankind can be so lovely and superficially gorgeous. The elegance made these soldiers go crazy.

“God, she is so beautiful.”

“Ya man, she is really beautiful. I had a chance to see her half naked last time when she was taking shower”, the guards shared discreetly at the gates.

The human tendency of competing towards the best attention and a reward from a person whom one is serving, these two men fell into the qualm of jealousy and foolishness. The other guard reported to a landlady about the one of them having seen her half naked and wanting to go to bed with her.

The accused was called while an informer was sent out. The former was afraid of losing his job because of his casual and careless talks about the landlady.

“Do you drink?” the voice however sounded fearing than sweeter.

“Yes, madam”, he was shy, though.

She offered him a local brewed wine in a cup that was adorned with golden threads. He gladly drank it, and then he was offered the same wine in an ordinary metal cup.

“How does it taste?” she asked him after he finish drinking the wine.

Well, though, the content here could well be little unclean, the message was clear and loud. How many of us in the world are like that soldier forgetting that it’s the inner soul that which matters, not the external expressions and beautiful attires?

The different types of a cup won’t make a same wine taste anything better or less, it remains same.

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Contact Me

If You have any queries about the things in my blog which you want to know or you feel i have written something wrongly, please feel free to email me at  sonam_lekda@yahoo.com.

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Defeat continues but winning never stops- An ode to my brother

Chinese say” Fall seven times but get up eight times”, does it makes sense to try again and fall back much lower than the position you were before you end up failing many times? How about walking away and try something which we can easily get out in hands.


If you read any biographies about any great persons either living or have lived, there’s one thing so common about them and their stories. And their stories are not short of any failure. In most of the cases, it’s the failure most of the stories are about. Some lost the battle fields, some lost the competition, and some lost the loved ones. It would have killed their hope for survival, and the desire to compete with life, but it hardly happened with them. Failures did not stop them, and today history is full of their stories, the stories which would motivate so many souls who gave up, and inspire so many who aspire. They fought the depression, failure and discouragement.

Albert Einstein was assumed to be retarded and was left out of the school. It was not so long when he went to become the one of the greatest scientist we ever had. Lincoln succeeded becoming a sixteenth president after having failed and lost more than a dozen times. It is said that when he was young, he went to a war as a captain and returned as a private. We won’t be having a bright light had it not been for Edison who invented the bulb and he was asked to leave the school while he was small. His mother taught him. Do you know what happened to Honda? He was rejected by an automobile company for an engineer’s job. And today, Honda is one of the most successful automobile companies. Honda made his own scooter and sold them to the neighbors. Stephen king’s first novel was rejected several times, but his wife fished it out from a bin and resubmitted it, and he went to publish many novels. "I have missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game winning shot, and I missed. I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed." You know who quoted this one? Jordan, yeah Michael Jordan and we all know who Jordan is.

Life is all about learning from a failure. All the above facts somehow show that, that after every dark night, day light follows, that at the end of the tunnel, there is a light and no matter how many times you fall down, you can get up. Failure makes you introspective. It gives you a chance to do it in something better than the earlier try. It rejuvenates the valor with extra care and wisdom.

But the best experience about such stories are the ones of which we are the part of. My brother couldn’t perform better in class twelfth examination. I was in first year in my college. He wanted to do engineering, but his marks couldn’t even take him to become a teacher. Dad was under a pressure of forcing him to do a diploma in engineering for which he got absorbed. There was so much a pressure in the family, dad was literally saddened and my brother was totally devastated with the overturn of the exam. He wanted to reappear, but couldn’t make out a decision before father. I always knew that he can do better than me in anything if he puts little bit of hardwork. I acted a mediator in between and my brother got admitted into Bajothang high school to re-appear the exam once again. Since parents stayed in Bajo, it was convenient for him to stay with parents and study while he can also help dad.

After completing my first year, I went home. At first, I was little angry with him for not having taken the examination so seriously. He was better than me, but he couldn’t bring out the best we expected from him.
We had a several discussions about so many things. But one particular talk that is so much to my heart was telling him that “A defeat continues but winning never stops”. I told him about so many people who made mistakes and succeeded. Like a mantra in morning, before he wakes up, I asked him to dream about his own life some years from now.

And there it was, he scored pretty good marks that too just by studying without going to school. He was given the admission by school which would make him eligible to give final examinations, but couldn’t let him sit in the class. It was the rule against Bhutan Board of Education to allow repeaters study like regular class twelve students. He not only did pretty well, but got more than enough marks to guarantee himself in an engineering college in College of Science and technology. All that I said to him was “Dude, I think you deserve a salute from me”. It was so special feeling and a big achievement. He replied “It’s all because you were there for me as a big brother. Thank you!” Today he is pursuing his dream in CST which he almost left it on the half way.


http://www.sportspsychologycoaching.com/ (Photo courtesy)

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Throughout the darkness, i was thinking

“Light went off”, I was talking in a phone with my friend.

“Oh! Your shitty hostel”, the reply ended with laughter.

“Who are you talking to?” this time it was my friend (not the one on the phone). He was lying down on my bed, just having a casual visit to my room.

“Oh! I am on a phone with a girl”, I replied in darkness.

I was feeling bit uneasy to have a conversation with a girl in front of him, so I went outside on the terrace and was talking there. We talked about so many things and I returned to my room.  There was a complete darkness. And the silence and a fear commanded my consciousness.  Let me tell you, I am no good in darkness. It scares shit out of me. I always avoid watching horror movies. I basically never believe in even imagining the worst possibilities and fatalities coupled with human life. The dark as night was, my fear over ruled my little bravery left in me. Of course the noise and shouting people made outside the square of which my room was nearby was full of people buzzing and talking in darkness. I silently put down myself on my bed. He was still there but fast asleep. Until the light comes back, he would be resting in my room, so I was happy and have an easy feeling of being in a dark room with my friend.

There’s something so bizarre about me. Though I don’t like imagining fearful things which we even doubt about their existence, I always go on thinking about some ghost in a toilet while attending the call of nature or I expect someone so fearful to come out behind the wall and wipe up me out of the earth I am standing on.  I sometimes avoid it by trying to think something nicer, something beautiful about life or someone I like. There’s so much an effort in trying to replace the virtual image that I go on thinking about.

So here I was thinking again. I was thinking what if it’s not my friend who is sleeping beside me? What if my friend left my room while I was talking in a phone outside? What if I am lying beside one of the kind of ghosts I have been imagining so far?

I was getting to sink in the frightful sea of fear of which I am the creator and I don’t have anyone nearby on whom I can cling to safe myself from getting drowned. There was deep silence, and all the noises didn’t make any noise, I was totally enveloped into my own blunt ideas and worst thoughts.

“I got so many works to do. This light is making me worried”, the noise woke me up from my imagination. Finally I got someone to save me from getting drowned in my own imaginary sea. I dreaded so much to have lost in what people called as over thinking and getting closed up into your own virtual world. “But wait! Did he sound familiar?” I was thinking hard with some sense of unclear thoughts.  “What? Can’t be? Then who is this person lying down on my bed?” It was terrifying to hear the voice of my friend who was lying on my bed before I left my room outside. It frightened me more to know who the person is lying beside me right now then. My thoughts seemed all intended for by some unknown special power. I felt like I was always true about things which I would dream about and i was virtually shivering from within at the mercy of fearful night.

I couldn’t reply him, and my voice started to tremble. The whole body felt under the shear numbness.  The darkness, and the silence, now punished me harder. Without even speaking a word, I made an attempt to stand. He didn’t seem to be bothered. The quavering of the moments never disturbed him though, and that was a little help in times of utter desperation.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Someone’s sleeping there on my bed”, I took a deep sigh, continued “I was thinking it was you”

Before we could finish our conversation, the light came on. And to my utter horror show which I had all through the darkness, it was one of my friends. He came to talk with me, and while I was not there in the room, he slept off.

By the way, this story is not real, it’s another kind of my own imagination, which I don’t know what to call, but you are welcome to call it in anyways you like to…:)

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Exam Time and Ap Rada

Exam starting from tomorrow....and i am here calling Ap Rada. Hope He bestows me the marks to get me into the next grade...:)

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Thank you for Blogging!

I always had this dream of putting things between the lines; it lets me keep the moments alive and ignite the rested thoughts. I began enjoying it ever since I remember. There used to be some of my friends who used to take tuition classes in primary school. I was in class four. I used to look with a much curiosity at them from outside. The teacher noticed me one day and the next thing I was doing was writing essays about anything he asked me. When I started brewing the smells of love with growing life, I spent many times writing love letters sometimes to serve my own craving heart and sometimes to my friends. I can remember only one club I used to get enrolled in during the school days and that was literary club most of the time. I was a literary captain in middle school. I had this wonderful opportunity to work on producing the weekly magazine that published few numbers of articles collected from the other members. I still feel somewhat withdrawn to come clean on the fact that I once published a love letter which I wrote it under unidentified writer. We actually landed up earning few amounts through selling the magazines which we donated to the patients of nearby hospital.

It’s been so many years of journey and I know that it won’t end. Now with the blog, it’s been very simple for me to bring out online and learn lot about improving it and of course learning from it. Its been almost an active year since I seriously started to pen down (actually type it down) many things which I felt good to share with other people. I get to read other’s and learn from it as well. Today I follow many bloggers around the world, though most of the time I interact so closely with Bhutanese bloggers.

Passu sir has a dream about Lungtenzampa. The pride and historical name the bridge carries is more marred with the outrageous dumb engineering skill. And it truly makes no less a good journal of an ordinary Bhutanese.   Luzee sings her heart out, and the song crafted with so many beautiful lines. And I guess Luzee has her heart not anymore hidden with such songs. There is Aurora, a poetess full of life. Clothed with attires of golden lines, the feelings portrayed tremble to speak a language everyone shall get mused and she dons every bit of beautiful things, that the adornments shall leave any surprised. Her words truly are worth millions. Kinga has been living with photographs which carry many special hours of life captured in time her dad was a proud owner of a camera bought from Jaigoan, and now she ponders the intention behind our politician’s decision of not incrementing the pay rise in their own salary. She writes these things to the God with certain glimmer of hope. Kuenza, lately took me engrossed into her thoughts on GNH. She makes GNH possible and attached in everything we do and in everything we can do. Her Diary is full of beautiful articles about love, relationship, philosophy and Life.  

Dorji Wangchuk, a man revered more and has earned more in life. It’s a great pleasure to have his thoughts and ideas published online. I am one lucky followers of his blog. He embodies nothing less than a true son of dragon. And there is a Dragon tale echoing as far as States, Sonam Ongmo fights every injustice to humanity and involves in every social issues human confront. Penstar is with the mentality of doing just once for ourselves not to show others but with purpose and cause. Ganzin, She puts up things of experience, of thoughts, of people, of politics (perhaps sometimes) and of love.  And there are so many. I am sorry I would like to keep it short (hahha..i guess its too long already). I would like to request those bloggers (whom I may have forgotten to put up) to keep things coming on in your niche, I would very much like to read and learn from you. The window should open now, the reflections have to come out right out of your heart, and keep the journey alive.

We are known through this one particular medium which we may call as our own feelings carved out in the form of letters or some online book called as Blog, it’s either way that which makes us known to each other.  

My writings keep me accompanied and busy, not to mention how I may be informing people, appeasing them of certain entertainment or sometimes hurting through unknown form (but it doesn’t deter me to not to write, I will always keep it going, and doesn’t hesitate how bad I am trod-ding, one day I will make to the end with so many things to share and of course having shared so many).

P.S: Sorry to the bloggers I mentioned above for not taking your due permission. I hope you people will forgive me if in any way I have offended you. By the way thank you for blogging!

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From my Status Bank in Faceboook

Ever since I joined Facebook, I have been always updating my status whether there is something I really have to tell someone or whether I am going through it (But I guess there’s nothing so genuine to feel about to keep your wall updated, do we?). I always write something or the other whenever I am in Facebook. Sometimes I write it to ease my heart, refresh my thoughts and pass my messages to the ones I care and also ones i don't ( Hahaha). Sometimes I write it my own philosophy and sometimes I borrow others (no matter how good or bad it is, if it clicks with my thoughts and ideas, I promptly record it on my wall). Sometimes I ask my friends how they are, and sometimes I tell them how good or how bad I am doing. There are comments on it, some disagreement and some likes, but it truly makes my day most of the time. I learn so many through it. And I believe my statuses are having some good clash with other fellow friend’s thoughts just like theirs with me.

Lately, I have been goggling to search a good status, something that is cool and yet practical. Whenever I give my own words, I always put it with Bearded Man; few friends knew it’s who I like calling myself. And of course the due owner when I borrow other’s. I didn’t find anything I would have loved to put it down on my profile wall, but I came across with the application in facebook. It was called My Status. I clicked on it and I was there on the page that would show all my statuses written so far on my wall. It excited me, because I always thought that it would mean so much fun and so much learning through many reminders and many going back. And I excitedly collected all my status so far. And to my astonishment, I have written as many as 667 since I borrowed that page from facebook. It proved much more than what I expected.

After going through it, I thought I would take out some of the best, some of the worst, some of the funniest, some of the best that I borrowed and some of the total crap (By the way it’s all my own judgment using the little brain that I have, may not be good enough though).

1.            The best entries in the category of Best that Bearded Man quoted:

- Dreamt so many beautiful things...But it never walked....and now i and my dreams are all that is left..and yet i dream that oneday these dreams will catch its shadow---Bearded Man   (8:29pm 4^th december).

- A DeFeaT ConTinueS But WinnING NeVeR StoPS---Bearded Man   (3:21pm November 30th, 2010)

- Broken wings and clipped feathers, the bird just dont want to die....world let the blood become cold. There is so much pain here--Bearded Man   (1:29am November 7th, 2010)

               

- All those who inspired began with aspirations---bearded Man   (5:07pm October 26th, 2010)

               

-memories never die. some sweet and fresh. some faded and painful. they all are but what makes our life. they all are but what reminds us of people who we were with. they all are but what served our life. -Bearded man   (6:56pm October 12th, 2010)

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4th year Housing in Architecture Course

One of the major submissions we have to pass as an architecture student-Housing. Me and two of my friends (Chimi and Jamyang) grouped to do it as a team work. we have been doing it since the beginning of the semester. It ended Today with the external jury.

These are the photographs of our model.

 

The project is meant for housing 1000 families of different income group. The site location is in Unnao, UP.

 We integrated community centre and commercial spaces in the ground floors. The Lake infront of the site was nice element to the site. And the design all faces towards it.

 Top View. 

 

From the backside. We have a highway on the left and the commercial areas are easily accessible by residents and outsiders both.

 

3-D view

 

Chimi posing with the final model after external jury.

Jamyang with the model.

 

And thats finally me. Its like we are almost done through 4th year.

This thing here is not just a work of three of us, its all those friends of ours who helped us in reaching to this final product. Thank you SPARTANS:

Tempa , Yeshey Cody, Ugyen, Penjor, Som Tashi, Namgay, Dendo, Tshering Wangchuk, Pema Wangchuk, Denka, Dorji Yangki, Tashi (Karpola), Chosangand finally Anju.

Because of you guys, we are here with

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The UDEE Team

We grew up together, and we were together known as UDEE boys by then. UDEE is a furniture workshop and is one the premier companies in Bumthang. Like my dad, many used to ply their skills in wood works in the UDEE Company. Though the Udee was to more with our fathers, we, kids were also nothing less than them. There used to be an archery tournament as team Udee against other places. We played football as team UDEE. We were known in school as boys from UDEE.

Phuntsho, he was the boss. The boss, simply The Boss, someone through whom we were known and someone through whom we teamed up to form UDEE. He is the son of the proprietor of UDEE Company.

There are plenty of memories. Our main picnic spot was Taleng, some few kilometers away from Chamkhar Bazaar. We always came up with either archery, or football or picnic. We were always busy. Now I guess the picnic hot spot is being constructed with air port. During hours where there were no special events, we gathered in Phuntsho’s house and used to either watch Video or play war game. The guns made out of sticks did well for many of us than Phuntsho. He probably had those toy guns made in market. He was the boss!

I probably can’t forget that we actually caught so many fishes from the stream that ran below my house and that after taking so much time in catching the fishes and put them in a wooden water tank which was located some few distance away from our houses, we lost those fishes to some little rascals from the neighboring place. They stole every fish of ours.

The marble games were always the safest of all we indulged in. I used to play with the tethered pant and pocket full of marbles but with a younger brother on my back. I finished my primary school with my brother on my back. I always carried one or the other during off school hours so that my mother would indulge in some productive house chores. We cleaned up an apple orchard of Phuntsho’s dad and made it into a football ground. Later on after collecting enough saw dusts, we made a wrestling ring on it. Those were the moments where all innocent rascals used to come up with perfect things to do. It was considered more important than anything else. I had my bashing at the home sometimes when I actually miss looking after my brother due to my indulgences with my team UDEE. Gone days of bliss and ignorance are all over today amongst us. We are grown up and scattered over the world. Miss you team UDEE.

And yeah Team UDEE members included Phuntsho, the boss, and he is in Malaysia doing Journalism under the scholarship of Royal Government of Bhutan. Sonam Delek, I remember him as our goal keeper, is in Chennai doing a LLB under Government of India scholarship. Phuntsho Dendup, known as Phunso Chingula ( Phunso small one), and a cousin to Phuntsho is in Gedu College of Commerce.  Kinley, my own brother is in College of Science and technology in Phunstholing. And of course myself, I am here in Delhi doing architecture. And there are many whom I don’t know where about. Wherever they are, I guess all of us miss those moments where we fought, cried, laughed, played the war, went for fishing, played football, archery (and like so much a believer of superstitions, we actually used to bury eggs underneath the opponent’s target (hahhahahaha)), and of course WHERE WE GREW UP TOGETHER.

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The Rickshaw Paddler in India

 http://img3.photographersdirect.com

The rickshaw paddler? What’s his cost? That ten rupees note he earns for making one trip towards Community center from my hostel (Some half a kilometer distance)? They rush up in their tethered clothes and sun beaten skins (as if they haven’t taken a bath in ages) whenever they see us coming out of our hostel. They lack pure sanity, how can they act so insane for the few bucks that which would mean so much toiling and so much sweats? Even when we wait alongside the road for auto rickshaw, they paddle in front us trying their luck lest we change a plan to sit on their little seat and travel through the large crowded road. Their most trips includes towards the bus stand or the community center from our hostel. They always gather themselves around our hostel gates much to the abhorrence of guards and the vehicles in and around the hostel. It is believed that there are more than 10 lac rickshaw pullers in entire region of Delhi.

It was Saturday night. As I stay in hostel, the mess remains closed in Saturdays. Though I don’t eat in the mess most of the times, it was kind of boring and same old food which I was feeding on in the hostel though I was on varieties from canteen and Nescafe.  I and my friends decided to visit a community center. We cleaned up ourselves and headed for our dinner.  I was with one of the friends on the rickshaw.

We were aboard on one of the rickshaws. It was getting darker. The dusk has already given its way to the night. The vehicles honked with headlights. People on the road were busy. I could see him properly except for the shawl that he was covered with and the piece of scarf which he covered over his head with. The paddling with his torn out slippers, and the dark brown muscles were quite apparent. I was observing closely in the darkness. He breathed hard, but was quite easy on his driving.

“Kanhaan se hai abb, Bhaiya?” I asked him.

“Bihar”, he didn’t even look as he answered. I approved with a thought that he was busy and attentive. The road had so many turns and cuts. It was full with vehicles. Delhi claims to have more vehicles compared to the number of vehicles combined in Chennai, Mumbai and Bangalore.

“Toh, abb ka ghar main kaun kaun rehai ta hain?

“Ma, chota bhai aur main”

“Toh who lok kya karteh hai?”

They basically survived on his rickshaw income which collected around 200 to 300 a day or less when fortunes are less on the lanes. The rickshaw apparently didn’t belong to him. It was on rental. There are as many rickshaw pullers in urban Delhi who migrated from rural states of India. Just like everyone as in urban cities, they came in search of a better lives and a good income.

The traffic got heavy. There was a jam in the red light junction. The vehicles fought for their way. They weren’t less insane as well. No one followed the traffics properly except when policeman stood somewhere nearer or on the point. He shoved us through the maze of vehicles. It made him easy with rickshaw. I used to be terrified in earlier days in Delhi. Now I am used to heavy traffics and constant jams.

My friend and I were getting little anxious about the dinner with friends who were waiting for us. So we urged him to paddle faster. He didn’t dismay us. And he paddled harder.

We got off on the pedestrian platform. I was asking him if he has some changes when it sent the chilly thrill through my vein. I became scared with what I saw. He was without one hand! And the one-hand-rickshaw puller paddled us through such heavy traffic and I was on it? I was shocked and terrified. My dad won’t allow me to travel so often in vehicles back at home and here I just rode on a rickshaw paddled by a man with no one hand. That was ridiculously terrifying!

I was afraid, and the thought that such a despairing situation of such a less-fortunate man didn’t give up the burden of life made me confused but scared. What could have happened had we met with an accident? Who in the world allowed him the rickshaw? Even when auto rickshaw drivers charge us lofty money, we retaliate with questions like what in the world a beggar needs to demand, and here I was shocked and hurt but can’t do anything to him. Would I care less about his misfortune and brag him about his casualness in taking a rickshaw or would I care less about his carelessness in being a rickshaw driver, thus jeopardizing other’s life, and sympathize his misfortune? A person of my character who gets easily sensitive on such pathetic issues of life, I didn’t know how to balance my anger and my sympathy to him.

That night I had the most tasteless dinner ever. I was engrossed in such brutality and accident of life.

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