those who creep under the covers

There is a threat looming large, and sinister, in the dark. She feared the darkness. She had heard many stories of the night taking on predatory shapes; and attacking young, unsuspecting women. Just the other day, Chimi had been woken up by a cold hand on her breast. It was just that, the cold hand. Some unlucky women had suffered more than that: an unwanted child, and utter ignominy. There was talk that the ones who moved in the night, were the visitors; Deki felt it was the ones she knew, the women knew; the ones society approved of. So why did they turn into monsters in the night?
Dorji walked by sharing a friendly smile. Deki shivered. The sky was turning purple, the mountains a silhouette against the darkening evening canvas. She quickened her pace.
Home was warm with dinner, and a loving mother. As Deki closed her eyes to the night, she felt under her pillow for her Drozum; hard, sharp and cold, it comforted her.
Deki woke up to wails: Chimi, the Gup’s daughter had hung herself from a tree. She was five months pregnant. The Gup was a man of steel; unmoving, unforgiving, and totally incapable of love. Deki felt something burn inside her, and grow cold. Chimi was sixteen, the same age as Deki, they had been more than sisters, and now Deki was lost.
That night, Deki was tired. More tired than usual. Her sound sleep was abruptly disturbed by a chill, and a sudden pressure. As she mouthed a scream, a hand quickly stifled her.
Panic. Panic. Paralysis.
The DROZUM! Deki struggled under the heaviness. She bit the hand, it was plump and warm. Then all went black. When she came to, she felt stiff, sore, and wilted to her soul. She knew she was like Chimi now, a victim.
She glared at her Drozum, it had betrayed her. Deki picked it up and threw it at the wall, it stuck neatly, right in the centre of her sketch of Galem and Singye. The couple’s embrace was butchered. Grim satisfaction. Deki decided to let it stay there. She cursed the man who had stolen into the night to meet his forbidden love; his bravery had been turned into a farce. Men had turned into animals without faces. At least animals didn’t hide their faces.
Deki’s mother read her hair. She couldn’t meet Deki’s eyes.
The end of the month gave Deki hope, when she saw red. She waited that night, watching the bundle in her bed. It was Tshe Che Nga, there was good light in the room. The Drozum no longer interrupted Bhutan’s eternal embrace, instead it gleamed in Deki’s hand. The window creaked open. A shadow squeezed in through the window. The Drozum went in through the shadow’s heart. For the women, for Chimi, for herself. The brute was dead.
Deki grinned at the loser, her mind suddenly lit with the thought: he, who creeps under the covers, so deserves this fate. Then she jumped out the window.

Healing

To think
to stand still
To hear
to feel the shadow
Could have been better, or worse
you decide

the choices
the mistakes
the laughter
and then the forgetting
Kundera was right

to undo
to neglect
to forget
to embrace
Shed a tear in silver
The scar shall heal

happy heroes

To think that life could be so simple, would be like waking up in Fool's Paradise. To think life could be so difficult, would be like living in the darkest depths of Hades. To think that life could be wonderful, in all its shades of grey, would be when you have a Happy Hero in your life. I'm in love. Blessed that I am:)

The Moment

It happens when it is the least expected; and when it happens, you cannot believe how dreamlike, reality suddenly becomes. It is a little confusing. A little overwhelming. A little unsettling. Bliss. That one insignificant moment becomes the most momentous minute of your life! Milton thought midnight to be powerful; Lucifer fell from heaven and many a tide was turned; what is this magic about midnight and the hours that follow it? The pre-dawn hours? There is a certain recklessness in these hours-the possibility of potentials: the holding of hands, the meeting of the eyes, the caressing of the lips. Then, the moment is gone;never to come back;lost in the wheel of time, a length of thread that joins the web that weaves yesterday, today and tomorrow. LOST. No Regrets. Just happiness, that a moment was fully lived.

...

I feel I've been wrung out to dry in the wintry sun and been choked by the dust. Therefore, the quietness here

Mark Twain Vs Buddhism

"Don't wake up a woman in love. Let her dream, so that she does not weep when she returns to her bitter reality" Apparently. That's Mark Twain for you. True, that love is important for our existence, but it isn't necessarily the only vital tool for our survival. Well, maybe not tool, how about element? Elemental. Sentimental. Attachment. Both men and women in love experience something transcendental- this is not romanticism...they are uplifted, inspired and hopeful. Happy too. This really is a dream, not the fantastical kind, but the transitory kind. There is nothing to be sad about, just as the "love dream" passes and you move on...the "bitter reality dream" will too. It's all in the mind. And in the mind it shall be. For better or for worse. And better still:)

of the past and the present

You know when you think back to when you were in Junior High School or let's go further back to primary school...and there were these people who you thought you would never like or get along with? Especially the bullies? Well, there was this boy who bullied everyone, and I disliked him immensely. I used to dread going to school because of him...but as the years passed,the memory of him dimmed until it disappeared completely. Then, just a few days ago, I met him. It had been nine years since we last met. He's an engineer now,runs his own consultancy firm, is happily marrried and is a new father...Was I blown away by the encounter! He is who he was, the core remains the same...what he was then, he still is now. I was surprised by his unexpected present. Everyone has the potential to be the best and has goodness within, even the most criminal of men. Buddha and his teachings come alive in these disparate yet connected incidents. Of the past and the present, and of the river and ocean...the same,always the same.