VICISSITUDES REALIZED
Born in Lower Bockray, Chirang Bhutan, in 1974, Pokhrel attended his primary education from Damphu Junior High School. He completed his secondary and higher secondary education from Nepal and has Bachelors degree in Humanities’ with sociology honors from West Bengal, India. He is one of the founding executive members and vice-chair of Bhutan Press Union (BPU) and founding member of Bhutaneseliterature.com, one of the much browsed literary sites of Bhutanese across the globe.
Also, currently is the Secretary of Literature Council of Bhutan (LCOB) established in 1993. He served Bhutanese Refugee Children as a volunteer teacher under Caritas-Nepal from 1996-2001 and taught in a few private schools in Nepal prior to his departure to the US.
He has an ardent interest in poetry, short stories, and drama work since his early days. Has contributed more than two dozens of his poetry works and write-ups both in English and Nepali in Kuensel Weekly published from Thimphu Bhutan in the past, an equal number of his literary works are published in other regional magazines and portals, and few of his dramas staged so far.
One of the founders of this portal, Pokharel served as Managing Editor from 2010 to 2014. He also served as Secretary of Literature Council of Bhutan (LCOB) from 2014 to 2019. Currently, he resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and works for BNS as its Chief Editor, President of Bhutanese Community Association of Pittsburgh (BCAP), Service Coordinator at Jewish Family & Children Service, Pittsburgh under Immigrant Services and Connections (ISAC) program.
R N Pokharel/ CA, USA
He breaks his comatose sleep
Wakes up with coy eyes
Looks hurried in quest of error
To appreciate the world at rise.
He stands in front of a long mirror
And looks at it and weeps.
He opens his mouth wide
Counts teeth and says thirty-two
And recites” Medical science says
An adult has thirty-two, and I do….
Epics say he is luckiest if so possesses”
And asks, “As of epics does it abide?
Ha….ha…ha…am I lucky to be bold?”
He laughs benignly in all his vocal.
He opens his uncared file
Bearing his degrees cert. and laurels
Speaks to them and gives eerie smile
“I wish I were told
When I was four
You become a doctor
For needy, a philanthropist.
Me…..Oh God! Philanthropist, a doctor!!
Yah, for sure I’m a true moralist
What should I seek more?”
He then blames antsy part of his
And lies flat on his bed
Rolls hither and thither
Starts pondering touching his head
“What I really lack my maker?”
With all pride he speaks
“I am an ingenious teacher
Teacher… a guru… a true guide”.
He salutes his jane sais quoi and brain
Still looks insatiate, finds him in onerous side
And utters in alfresco again
“Who opened the Pandora’s Box to pester?”
Question resounds within the four walls, glued
He sits and bows his head low
Perhaps, to visualize the visages
Of his exs. the loved duo.
He then only realizes
How devilish is the lust for evil fluid?
He speaks “Enough….Enough… its forgotten
The evil fluid! You dry with dew
I dare you not even with fried tuna
No joie de vivre I share with you
Not for all the tea in China .
He jolts in gay and says Pandoras box is no more open”.
Great!!!
Pokhrel ji,
I tried to sort out ur e-mail but I did not get. I thought I did not save it earlier. Please write me once at: twmnbhutan@gmail.com. Need to reach out to you. By the way, the poem here looks cool, fantastic, perhaps mind-blowing! keep writing.
TP Mishra
New York
http://www.tpmishra.com