Deche's memoirs

My mother gave birth to me at a very tender age giving me all her strength and health. My mother lived through all of life’s ups and downs and I now hold my head up with dignity. My mother raised me to be a good person reminding me to fight ‘real’ bad by being good. My mother taught me to be just and fair telling me to always stand up and demand justice. My mother said being generous always brings you the much wanted happiness and peace. My mother made me believe nothing was better than a smile brought by respect and love. My mother showed me right from wrong helping me find the absolute righteous path. My mother told me all about being humble sowing the successful seeds of humility in me. My mother explained all about life, and the life lessons have made me want excellence more. My mother accepted, forgave and tolerated, teaching me tolerance and helping me persevere. My mother with her love and compassion helped me realize my purpose in this samsara. My mother ...

The drive up the Namo Buddha hill in Nepal in a small cramped Maruti 800 on a rough farm road once again brought my attention to this constant annoying screeching. Upon being asked, my father said it was the sound of an insect called a taemjim (in Dzongkha). I had heard this screeching many a times before. The more I listened to it, the more annoying it was getting. The hike down the hill was peaceful though. The screech had disappeared. No screech of the annoying thing. Later I found out from father that it had timing, which was quite interesting. And it was a relief because I could not imagine the lives of the people living in the area if it continued forever. Just about a week ago, upon our arrival into the jungle that was about fifteen minutes from the Gasa hot spring, I started hearing the screeching once again. This time before I could complain, my father asked me if I was hearing the sound of the taemjim . We then compared the climate and the vegetation to that of the Namo Bu...

As he entered the premises of the Taba home, the six year old came running to him, shouting excitedly and cheerfully. She was overwhelmed to see him. He had traveled the whole day from Dzongchu, their village home in Kabesa, Punakha. She took him by the hand and led him up the stairs into the family kitchen where her mother stood cooking at the stove. The little girl’s excitement to see him was her love for packed lunches. He had brought packed lunch prepared by the grandmothers at Dzongchu. Her mother poured tea for them as they sat on the warm wooden floor.  She sat next to him, her elbow on his knee. She could not wait for him to open the packed lunch. He served her the rice in a bangchu (bamboo knit plates). He was cutting up the sikam (dried pork) for her into chewable bits when she grabbed a long sikam . She put one end between her teeth and tugged at it with her left hand. The already fatty sikam had been cooked specially in oil for the journey. Before he could s...

I have never been much of a writer. Perhaps I was a little too busy or may be a little too lazy. My notes lie unorganized and piled up somewhere on some shelves and my files on the computers I have used so far cannot be found. I have often taken time to wonder what it was that kept me so busy or lazy. I have no answers to it. If I were busy I would have a product, something that is complete and done. If I were lazy, I would have definitely had some guilt feeling about it. Anyway, looks like it’s just another past to put behind my back and move on. Resigning from one place of work and joining a new one has kept me busy. Looks like I can use that as an excuse. But I do not want my “first” blog to be about excuses. I want it to be about “Learning”. This is one thing I have known all my life that one can never stop learning. It was just about a month ago that I learnt how to blog. It was ages ago that I learnt how to write my abcs and Ka Khas and 123s. Just yesterday I learnt what cou...