thedawaring's blog

Shambala is a mythical Buddhist heaven known for peace and joy and long life. Seemingly useless and small thoughts and actions that we are carrying out now is for ever recorded in our memories. We do not realize the beauty and value of things as it happens. But when we look back few years afterwards, the same memories bring tears of joy and sorrow to our heart. So what is the secret behind this phenomenon? Why things like this happen to humans? Well, i don't have an answer either.  For instance, we do not bother to live each and every moment as it comes and happens. Sitting by the sea and watching a Fisherman take a nap in his small fishing boat, the boat gently made to dance by the gentle waves... it never was a sweet thing back then as it happened a few summers ago in the beautiful place of Goa, But now, as the day ends, as the sun begins to set and as a melancholic cry of birds squeeze by my office window, those old memories are far more sweeter than the presen...

A slice of Nirvana in September One Friday evening in early November, I return from office as usual. Reaching home, after taking a warm bath, I open the fridge. There is no milk. I sip a glass of water and switch on the TV. Nothing of interest shows up even when I swipe channels one through seventy. I open the door and go on the veranda. Resting my elbows on the cold concrete structures, I gaze at the express-way below my apartment. Vehicles ply up and down. Everything seems to be going on normally usual. Nothing is extraordinary. The   evening air is cold. A pair of blue Jockey inner wear hangs on the clothesline.  The cold air is helping it dry. As time passes by, I feel it is a drag to be at home alone. I walk inside my room and call up my friend and ask if he is coming for a drink in the town. He agrees without hesitation. I put on a pair of faded blue jeans, vertical-stripped-white Tommy Hilfiger shirt from college days and a black jacket. I cover my neck ...

September 2015 Ruskin Bond and Autumn Sky Ruskin Bond? Yes, the great Indian children’s writer who wrote scores of beautiful countryside tales and short stories like The Cherry Tree & Garland of Memories etc . This afternoon, while walking in the autumn sun, I just thought of Ruskin Bond out of nowhere. He had great love and appreciation for the Himalayas and hill stations like Shimla. Reading his short stories would make one immerse into a blissful display of imagery words.  In short he loved simple things in nature and found beauty even in a dried, crumbled leaf! Wearing the immortal literary eyes of Ruskin Bond, I went to a solitary walk last week end. With a camera in hand and keeping the senses open to enjoy every bit and piece of small yet beautiful things and events occurring in the nature.  As I walked by the river side, the feel of grass on my grey converse was different. The river had become less noisy and more peaceful. It no longer was dragging lo...

One night in August, Thimphu, Bhutan Walking home from work yesterday evening, I came across trucks and trucks of military men passing by. A cool August wind laden with aroma of lemon grass was blowing, brushing my curly brown hair. School children were going home too. A drunken man lay asleep beside the road. To perfectly soak in the moment, I plugged in my earphones and listened to the good old Scorpions song: Winds of change. Change, then I thought, is a part of life. The most romantic month of the year, August, is slowly giving way to September. For someone who takes great joy in the beauty of nature, the coming of September is a huge treat. In September you get to see clear dark skies at night, filled with a billion twinkling stars. In September, you get to behold green leaves on the trees turning into colors of yellow and red. In September, you get to enjoy the peaceful & joyous Bhutanese festivals. And in September, we welcome our first Bhutanese Losar: Thrue Bab...

A friend tries to take off  People we meet in life As we travel along a mysterious journey we call life, we come across many fellow travelers. Each and everyone out there has a lesson to teach, a painting  to give you, a story to share, a song to sing and a reason to smile. And believe me; each one of them leaves an eternal imprint on our soul. They subtly shape the way we perceive the world. Back in college days in Goa, I had a catholic friend named D’souza.  She gave me a copy of The New Testament. Later she also gave me a copy of the Bible. I would read it in the evenings when the singing birds would return to nest on the giant jack fruit trees near my hostel. The central learning from my reading the two holy books was our purpose to love. God created us to love without boundaries. God sent his own son to show how much he loves each and every one of us. We love because we need to love.  Love is an act of faith. Not an exchange of emotions. Then, ...

Mid Summer in Thimphu, Bhutan. Finding happiness towards late June It is not often that you wake up one morning feeling perfectly happy.  One Sunday morning in late June, I wake up feeling a complete new sense of bliss. I jump out of the bed and head towards the veranda. A fresh, soft and cool morning air blows gently past my face. I pull out a red polythene chair and sit to watch a mesmerizing morning magic unfold itself before me. I play the song SubhanAllah from the 2013 Bollywood film ‘Yeh Jawani hai yeh Deewani’on my old fashioned cell phone and listen to the melody fuse itself with the beauty of the morning.   After two days of clouds and rain, a bright sunny morning was opening up. The owner of my apartment was burning pine leaves, perhaps praying for a good day ahead. The smoke wafted across the space riding on the gentle morning wind. The river below my house was swollen. Debris of logs and leaves were being carried away by the murky water. In the...

December,2014, Trashigang Sunset through the Window When I opened the old wooden windows of our house, a cool & gentle December wind was blowing. Pieces of colorful flags danced in harmony to the tune of roosters signaling the end of the day. The western sky presented itself to me as a magical formation of shades of yellow and orange. A sweet natural melody erupted from the wind blowing into empty bottles lying around in the dry grasses. Flakes of white clouds turned grey above the horizons as the sun began to set faraway behind the towering mountains. A sense of blissful air slowly covered the whole hamlet. From above the monastery, the aroma of juniper being burnt spread throughout the whole village. A full moon day as it was, monks playing the soulful jaling could be heard. With every passing second, the golden sun dipped itself deeper behind the shadows of the mountains. Then and there, I was once again, as always, struck by the eternal beauty of seeing the sun setting....