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ROARING SIXTY, a tribute to my king.

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There showered happiness in the world, angels danced in glory, when you were born. I’ve read of him I’ve heard of him I’ve seen him from far A kind king to all hearts All kings.                                                                 How I always slept and woke                                                                  In my little world next to him.                                                                  I always wanted to be him                                                                  With time only to grow                                                                   For such a dream                                                                   Only a beautiful dream I shall always know.   Thou were seventeen To be our sire, our king, Young enough, the world mayn’t have ever seen. Ere, thou could even feel The charm of youth Thou made us grow in peace. Gratitude sire, gratitude my handsome king.   
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SCHIZOPHRENIA

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THIS IS A STORY I HAVE WRITTEN ABOUT A BOY NAMED GYATSHO, AND OF COURSE HIS FAMILY. IT IS ABOUT FAMILY, LOVE AND ALL THAT YOU'LL KNOW AS YOU GO ON READING. DO ENJOY... “I’m sorry”. A mute shivering body drenched in red laid next to him. His hands shaking like the words he just uttered in turmoil. In a bit of distance that could have barely made ten steps stood a woman who calmed him with a blind mouth, and whose presence comforted his fear. Near her was a garden shovel. She stood there gazing at him in tears,and a long piece of cloth on her neck as if a thick thread worn like a like thin scarf, which might have been the edge piece of her dress that was torn from the bottom. In an illusion of darkness and red hands, fear and the random thoughts in mind, the woman started blurring in his eyes and in a while everything went dark. “Gyatsho!Gyatsho!” a hastening ApDrukpa shook his sleeping son, “wake up! You are already late for school and me, for the court”. It was a Sun
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Folk Literature, subject to learn!

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     ´According to MacEdward Leach (SDFML 1984:401-402), “Folklore is the generic term designate the customs, beliefs, traditions, tales, magical practices. Proverbs, songs etc.,;         Tales have been taken over by movies and animations today. But, on the other side of the region where there are no buildings and fresh green grasses breathe, orature- an art of passing down tales from word to mouth is practiced.  The first man to narrate. Amazing man indeed!       Folk literature is a module or subject we learn here in Sherubtse, Kanglung. It is about discovering and learning about old stuffs like, Folktales and folk materials. It might sound antique at first but it is not as the course proceeds. The class begins with defining and understanding terms like, Folklore, folkloristics, etc which are also the key words of this subject. When these get over, we A.K Ramanujan and our very own Aum Kunzang Choden with their beautiful works on collections of folktales. We try to relate
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I love English! :)

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Well as I have mentioned in my previous posts that I am fond of writing (scribbling or articles), in this time I would want to mention about English. Yes, I love English! I have been in love with it for years now. I remember one of the lines I read in one of R.K. Narayan’s works as I start to write this, “English is my mother tongue, even though my mother doesn’t know a word of it...” I love Hollywood movies of any genres but most I prefer are movies that inspired from true stories. Some of my favourites from what I have watched are, The Lady, King’s Speech, Freedom Writers, The Book Thief and many others. But, I tell you I love watching movies with subtitles. I love watching movies with subtitles because, I love speaking along with the characters in the movies, the tone, intonation, accent and everything of the way they speak. Anyone can be witty or intelligent! I love witty and intelligent people but only if they speak just too well in English. When I say well speakers here, I
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