Thursday, November 7, 2013


We live in times of facebook, twitters, blogging and others. I have 552 friends in my facebook friend list. Recently through my good friend I have introduced to the world of blogging where I have some 17 followers.  I am also following many prominent people in twitter. I see them every day; read their thoughtful articles and even interact at times.  I am surrounded by so many friends on my computer screen. I chat with strings of people near and far, the people I know and even strangers at times. But in reality I haven’t talked to my immediate neighbor who lives next to my door. I see them every day. I even know what they have for their dinner yet I am stranger to them. These people seem good and caring but I don’t know them in reality. Confined in four corners of my lonely room is me all alone.

I live on the second floor of the building. I have spacious room to accommodate any number of people.  Its peace and its beautiful. As the dawn sweeps in I could catch all the beauty of Paro valley, the majestic golden Taa Dzong glorified with the lamp lights and the artistic Rimpung Dzong sitting over the hill so calm and rigid. The meandering Paa chu making its way to ChunZom and lush green paddy fields along the high way. It’s beautiful and breathtaking, yet I am alone watching through the lens of windows in misty morning, no one to accompany me and no one to hear my description of how beautiful is the morning dawn.
Every working day, bus driver come over to pick me up in early morning and drop me in evening. I travel in the bus with my colleagues and seniors making round from Paro town down to Shaba and finally to the hanger. For a funny joke we laugh, at times we pour out our frustrations and complains. Others sing their heart out. And some sleep and snore for they are tired of tight schedule of the day.  At the end of the day I get down from the bus wishing them good night and I walk alone to my lonely home, tired, exhausted and enervated.

I make calls to my beloved families, who are in far flung village in east. They are too far to hear my grueling complains and to see my tears. I hate these distance. Loved ones are far and I am here surrounded by strangers. Like a broken winged little chick abandoned by her mother, I live alone dreaming for the warmth of loved ones.

 Recently the hands of sickness caught my neck so tight. I was bedridden. I didn’t have even a calorie of energy left in my muscles.  I had to sleep empty stomach at night wondering what if I never recover back. I was admitted in hospital. Doctor asked me if I have any friends with me, he seemed worried at my condition. Covering my face I cried, for I was all alone wishing somebody was there near me holding my hands.

Unlike in rural home I live in crowded place. And in the crowded place I am alone and loneliness is my only companion. 

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