Monday, May 23, 2011

My daughter

Dechog, my elder daughter playing in the sand. Watercolor painting done from a photograph taken few years back, while at Lhuentse dzongkhag.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

An incomplete sketch

This is an incomplete sketch of my younger daughter. It started out well but somehow my laziness barred me from its completion. Even today, I'm not able to get back to it and declare it complete. So waiting for one fine day...that shouldn't be far away.

My unsuccessful artworks

While still a college student one of my friends embarked on compilation of folktales from South and East of Bhutan. I contributed few stories from the East (which comes from those narrated to me by my mother). He wanted me to do illustrations for his stories and I did give in my heart to it. I was then learning to do illustrations that required not just imaginations but clear understanding of the story...while skills were just beginning to emerge. 

The chances of his stories getting published was bleak those days. He tried hard seeking Bhutanese publishers. Meanwhile, I kept focusing on illustrations to his compilation of stories. But our togetherness was to give way to our graduation. Thereafter, he pursued teaching and I joined administrative job that separated us wide apart. We lost contact. 

After few years my friend managed to publish his story book. It has been illustrated by one of his friends - also an artist (whose artworks I admire since college days). Today he is a writer with already few books published and I'm still an aspiring artist. I wish him good luck.

Following are some of my illustrations done for his stories:

Some of my old artworks

Browsing through my shelves, I came across some of my old artworks. All these years my wife had been kind enough to keep it safe. Today, as I look at it, it has it's own story to tell. I hope my visitors would enjoy it.

Tadzong of Trongsa painted in 1998 (a decade ago). As a member of Sherubtse Art Club, I must have been learning to use watercolor. Looking at it after almost a decade, it still appears beautiful and it keeps me encouraging to push further.

Gasa Dzong, also one of my watercolor works from college days. I've never been to Gasa, but it's majestic grandeur kept me captivating.This is why I tried out a painting of it from one of those photographs available those days.

This bird, probably I may have painted from one of the books while at Sherubtse College. I was then a member of Sherubtse Nature Club (Singye Karm) and later served as Secretary to that Club. Bird watching used to be one of the main activities of the club then.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Midnight phone calls

Do you get any phone calls at midnight? Well I did get couple of times. That also in the middle of the night. I never fancied anyone's girl/women, or, I never had any extra-marital affairs, or, I do not remember to have made enemies in my life. But someone called me several times in the middle of the night about few months back. Every time when I received it, line was cut off immediately. These calls have given me this idea to write a ghost story...

...and this is just the beginning! 

“Deki…Deki! Can you hold this table for me,” Karjey climbed on it to fix the portrait of His Majesty the King on the wall of their large spacious living room in one of the apartments that they hired recently in Thimphu. That was the last thing left to declare them settled that evening. 

Karjey got down the table and diligently pushed it to one corner of the room saying, “Here we shall have our 32 inch Flat TV very soon.” Deki, his wife shyly giggled, “Very soon! It’s easier said than done.”   

Karjey stood staring at the portrait for a long time in akimbo, with his right hand still holding the hammer. He finally sighed, “Hmm…It looks perfect with HM’s portrait in the middle.” But Deki felt incompleteness of the room setting and blurted out, “Either this room is too large or our furnishings are inadequate.” “Cool darling. We’ll have them done, but slowly,” he assured his wife.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Khe Yongbu gives me a hope

People say if child is notoriously active and inquisitive from the moment they learn to speak, they grow up as normally (in fact generally) intelligent and bright individual. So does our old Bhutanese proverb proclaim, “Mi chig wongna chunglay wong; Ta chig wongna tewlay wong” meaning if a person is to grow as responsible human being with all the qualities of a good human, then s/he will exhibit those traits from the childhood itself as is the case with a horse. 

As parent and a father, I often land up observing my child’s development on daily basis. My elder daughter, like any other children is naughty and would not listen to anyone. In fact, she would want to do what we insist her not to do. This allows her mother to yell at her repeatedly (I don’t know how many times…countless!) and father to catch hold of a small whip (particularly designed for that only). This doesn’t help, because she is a child and she wants to learn things by herself as she grows. That’s fine! But one thing she has not been able to impress me and my wife until now. Amidst all these notorious acts of hers, she has never come up asking us how, who, what, when, where and why? Should she ask I’m sure we would find ourselves in an embarrassing situation?

Last weekend, my wife and I bought her new school bag, a pair of shoes and a sun cap. The moment it was presented to her she got so excited to own these new items – she put on her cap, wore new shoes, loaded her bag with books, pencils, water bottle and other accessories and started carrying it. That Sunday evening I was doing a story on “The Real Supermom” as she came near me still carrying her new bag. I ignored her presence. She patted on my right shoulder and said, “Apa…apa! Yongbu,” pointing her finger to a large Khe Yongbu on the plastic matt. Then she said, “Apa why Yongbu is not flying today?” I stared at her for a moment with great excitement that she is now learning to seek answers and replied, “It fell down from the window just now and it’s sick. Please don’t disturb.” She said, “I’ll not disturb but I watch with my eyes namo Apa.” I said okay. She lay on the bed still carrying the bag and fell asleep watching that sick Khe Yongbu on the floor.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Pencil sketch of my best friend

My wife: December 2011

We saw each other for the first time in 2001 in the far east of Bhutan. We became good  friends in 2002. And today, we are still a good friend...

She is my Best Friend!

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Some more from my watercolour collections

Lone temple: A4 Size

Mountains from elsewhere and Lhakhang from somewhere: A4 size

An old Taktshang: A4 size

Sunday, May 1, 2011

24 Hours On: the Real Supermom

Image courtesy: Google Images
“Sleep well my guests and see you tomorrow morning,” wished Aum Penzin as she lit the bunch of bamboo from the furnace. She served us Kharang mixed with white rice and ema datsi for our dinner. She prepared us our bed in her altar room and served us Zimchang – ara to ensure good night’s sleep. But for Aum Penzin, activities kept rolling in one after another and to miss one of them by chance would mean foregoing better days ahead. With her bamboo lighting raised above her head she left to guard her maize fields from wild animals while we laid down in her altar room for a much desired rest.
In the silence of the night, even noise of fleas hovering underneath the blanket is heard distinctly. Fleas kept jumping from my eyes to nose, and to my ears almost making me sing along a popular nursery rhyme – head and shoulder. It wasn’t a nightmare that kept me awake. Fleas all over had been really nasty but something deep inside my heart kept me wandering all night long.
The music of monsoon showers kept playing at a regular interval and “Oie…Ah…ho…ho” noises of people from the surrounding maize fields filled the hell of the dark night. Not a single dog barked and I wandered why people are not using dogs at night. Oh! Yes, Aum Penzin did tell us about the whole of village dogs falling prey to a leopard. My friend, a Surveyor on my left enjoyed sound sleep, probably few cups of Ara that he had must have been in action.
Frequent showers outside and its cool breezes that rushed in through crevices of window shutters kept us cool that hot summer night. “Ah…hooo,” I could hear our host lady shoo away wild animals from time to time.  Fully awake, I let my thoughts wander back to the moment we got in here.
My friend and I made a late start that in the maize field we lost our way as darkness surrounded us. Fully drenched by the drizzles throughout our journey we landed up seeking a nice place to halt for the night. Our quest took us to a large house in the middle of the maize field. The house appeared deserted. We knocked on the door hesitantly. There appeared a young boy, probably around six or seven year old boy, from the dimly lit room. As he opened the door, cloud of smokes gushed out through the door almost choking us.
On the left side of the hearth was a lady, Aum Penzin who was busy preparing dinner. As we stepped in, “We lost our way and we would like to seek your permission for a night halt here,” she, at first ignored while her hands kept busy over her dinner preparation. Probably our presence meant an additional activity on top of her already busy schedule. She managed few eye contacts with her daughter, Yangzom who sat on the other side of the hearth feeding her infant baby and then said, “You are welcome. We have a large house although we might not have anything special to offer you.” With a hope to dry our clothes we sat around the hearth.
Not long after we settled there, “How old is your baby?” I was asking Yangzom, “Where did the father of the baby go?” She just smiled and did not answer. “This is her second child,” Aum Penzin answered from behind, “That boy is also her son. His father left us long ago.” The child on her lap was probably a result of illegitimate relationship that left her handicapped from helping her mother although she tactfully hid her helplessness in that smile. “Had her husband been with us, I would not be in such a chaos,” Aum Penzin expressed her difficulty.
While our conversations went on, “Ahem…” came from one corner of the room. I tried to catch a glimpse of him in the flickering light, when Aum Penzin interrupted, “He is my husband. He has been lying there bedridden for last two years.” But “why?” I started to question, “Why is he not in the hospital?” There was no answer. I looked at my friend. He nodded and said, “Medication would cure him.”
“He has been to all the hospitals – even traditional hospital at Thimphu and tried out all sorts of medicines. Nothing seems to cure him. His medication and treatment has only left us broke with our minimal savings already spent on it,” came in the frustrations of Aum Penzin as two of us sat there filled with guilt over putting-up such a question. After about few seconds Aum Penzin continued, “Nothing would cure him it seems. He is under the spell of someone’s black magic. And only return magical spell would let him free, but to hire a magician is beyond our capacity,” as she lay dinner in front of us.
Thinking these over and over again and sometimes feelings of guilt for troubling this family running through my mind kept me awake whole night while my hands desperately sought fleas underneath the blanket.
At around 5:00 AM, my host lady returned home. I could not resist myself from going to the kitchen only to discover that she is 24 hours “On”. Yes, she was 24 hours on, her cycle of activities kept her on toes. At night she guarded her fields from wild animals. Her day started with breakfast preparation while her daughter could not be of much help with infant baby on her lap. Aum Penzin feeds her husband food and helps him to toilet; she dressed that boy and sends him to school located about a kilometer away; she collects nettle leaves, minces banana trunks, boils them and feed their pig; she collects grasses to feed their ox; she makes a round of her maize field during day time too to ensure crops are safe; she sometimes even manages to go on errands; and in the evening she is near the hearth preparing dinner for the family and by the time she finishes her dinner, it’s already time to go and guard her field from wild animals. Yet she was full of energy and hope in keeping the family spirit alive. Therefore, I would not be wrong even if I call her – the Real Supermom.
My friend joined us in the kitchen and soon breakfast was served. My friend and I handed her Nu. 300.00 each, as we left to the next village – our final destination.

***I wrote this story to pay tribute to my host lady, whose true identity I beg to conceal. While it is based on my real life experiences I may have spiced it up to make it more interesting to its readers. The names of characters have been changed and actual places are not reflected in the story. Therefore, it may as well be considered as a work of fiction.