Tshewang's Journal

Upon our arrival in Bhutan, Phuntsholing greeted us with open arms, beckoning us into a local restaurant where we indulged in a feast of Bhutanese delicacies, a long-awaited treat after a year of absence. The journey's dust made an impromptu visit to the restroom necessary before I could fully enjoy the meal. There, amidst the comforts of home cuisine, we reveled in dishes that spoke of familiarity and nostalgia, far removed from the Alu Parathas that had become our staple abroad. Our journey took a humorous turn upon reaching Gedu. My friend, known for his reserved nature, unexpectedly disrupted the silence with a loud fart, prompting an exchange of jests between us. His excuse? The fermented curd hadn't sat well with him. Little did I know, my own stomach would soon join this comical rebellion. Indeed, as we approached Tsimasham, my insides began their own uproarious laughter, compelling us to request an unscheduled stop. I silently prayed for anonymity in my discomfort, unwi...

In the quiet town that nestled between tradition and the pulse of modern life, Karma found herself at a crossroads, carrying a secret that would alter her path forever. The news of her pregnancy brought a storm of emotions, but none so poignant as the moment she decided to share this revelation with Chencho, the man she believed to be the father. Their reunion was a tapestry of unspoken words and suppressed feelings, underlined by the gravity of Karma's condition and the uncertainty of their future together. Chencho's reaction was a blend of disbelief and fear, his mind racing through the implications of this unexpected turn in their lives. The conversation that unfolded under the shade of the eucalyptus was charged with tension, each word heavy with the weight of decisions yet to be made. Chencho, grappling with the societal and familial expectations placed upon him, saw escape in the form of a drastic suggestion — an abortion, a solution that offered a way out but stood in st...

Like fruits, shaken free by an impatient tree, From the veil of its seed a growth of shrubs; And ye be shrub; and thou flower, Thou comest, the soothing flame, in gentle breeze Of whirling in frantic dance  Amidst the the wind-lashed cloud and infuriate shower, Whilst trampled by thy turbulence doth Scattered all thy fate in an eddying agony to death. Yet in the tempest of mood, Doth i write this trying to be Keats But ye know how thy Keats ain’t And ye Knowth the Best.  Of yore in a sour wait of moment; No lobby for playing ye charm, For doth I not your prince charming; Wait; and let live the life; for it unwraps The hope of ye, fulfill.

Yesterday, at last period; My English teacher taught us a factual lesson by giving a simple example. He started asking us with the differences we can see from comparing potted plant and the wild plant. All I can think of at first was they are both plants. They both give the same physical description and they were both plants of same species. However I realized that there are differences. “What could be the differences?" I thought, before i could speak any differences our sir, told us the differences. The potted plant is being cared by the people. People water them, put fertilizers, and make is way so possible to look beautiful. They give flower which adds serenity of human beauty. On the other hand, the wild plants do not get any of those. All that they get is the water from rain, manure from the natural soil, and care from the Mother Nature itself. Yet both give the same flower no less. I took the scale from my bag, and made column for listing the differences. I listed all that ...