My kind of Losar

I never wish for a grand celebration on the losar day. I do not crave for extravagant foods and drinks to glorify the day. To blast a party with gushing champagne, throwing out luxurious laughter isn’t within my budget. Getting festive with archery or any other entertainments has long abandoned my bones. This may sound weird and pessimistic, for my kind of losar isn’t the way most people would want it to be. Then, what is it?

It means a big day for everyone – for some it is a celebration of achievements of the past one year while welcoming a fresh new year filled with promises of success, joy and happiness in abundance; for some, it is the day to drown all their difficulties and misfortunes in the mist of merry making with a hope that such be the part of their life for next one year; and, for few others it is a day of thanks giving to Kenchog Sum (all deities and invisible forces included), the King and the Country – for having granted a fruitful past one year without any hassles to one’s Lue Ngag Yid Sum (body, speech and mind).

I remember when I was a kid my parents would wake up early on the losar day and get them to cooking. The day would begin with early morning Thukpa, Suja and snacks (normally Tengma), and fried Ara session followed by the main course of the day – a descent meal with scented rice, one meat item, fried eggs or cheese and a Kangchung maru. Throughout all these courses my parents would ensure that all family members were present and served each item equally except for the Ara, which was served little to us small kids. After this friends and neighbours were invited to share food and drinks and then visit their places for a similar treat.

My kind of losar is simple.

I would wish for a simple gathering of all family members sitting together involved in happy gossips over moderate rounds of Ara and modest meals, while meeting friends to share these happy moments must not remain out of my priority list.

But this is really difficult to see it happen.

Mainly, because we live in different places – our parents are at home holding the reins of our ancestry; our brothers and sisters live elsewhere struggling for their own survival; and our children are in the far away schools. It is a matter of chance that we sometimes get to sit together on a losar day. But even if we get such an opportunity, some would prefer to walk out not because we aren’t worth but because he or she finds themselves out of place.

And our friends, they have their own plans and priorities (quite similar to my kind of Losar) that make it harder for us to come along as envisaged.

But thanks to this fast technological revolution. Thanks to B-mobile for its wide range of connectivity, we can now at least talk to our parents, relatives and friends over the phone; text our wishes and prayers to our loved ones who aren’t near to us. This renders an opportunity for us to make feel our presence at the other end while their presence is felt at our end.

By now most would have realized that my kind of losar rarely happens actually. Just how hard it is. Now, particularly with the change of time and development, with other priorities slowly taking over our lives my kind of losar is already pushed at the backstage. I’m sure; my kind of losar is in the minds of many, but it has increasingly become a mere dream for most of us. But I’ll not stop dreaming about it here.