Pallor: Three Parts

Our Democracy

The theme of question is to outwit,

While the tail of position curling behind,

“What is your plan?” Misty eyes grind—

Indolence self-vindicating—guffawing fit.

The mildewed old sensitivity still reigns

Despite litany of self-praises, our goodness—

The bestowed people’s rights to meekness.

Criticism-Resistance-phobia in form benign.

Our Common Enemy

“How much you could say against yonder?”

The said ambiguous enemy, the tool of time

When just to silence off a voice on a dime—

One aimed inwards or against one’s dearer.

Yes, oh, shouldn’t I ask myself,

“How much it’s intended to hurl there

Rather than mouthing grandiloquence

And, so disgustingly, siding aloof?”

My Fate

Squishy golden autumn leaves matted out before me—

The fallen gold and the hanging gold illumine a sepia splendor,

In which I deceive myself the time is healing, always lovely;

The effect is of the overcast sky and shaded vibes. They glisten.

As so saddening a close friend estranging away

As my own fellow fall narrower; as odd conceit

Keeps us apart as my own odyssey, the one I need,

Numbs me from being able to figure out myself—the oddity, my fate.

Now my own side pops up,

A voice carrying such tender venom,

And wants me to galvanize into gyrating so—

“Learn farming by looking at your neighbor!”

If I do so,

Then how we will look and fall?

Should I do so?

Little Angels

'ལུང་པ་རང་ལ་མེད་ན། གཞན་གྱི་བྲན་གཡོག་ཡིན་ནོ།།' Ringing the lines from the lyric in my ears, I want to say:

Tibetans are enslaved in Tibet. Then why not outside. We should know what we are. The process of great mixture of people through globalization has tarnished its shine. Now as we can see in the West, people are connected more by virtual world than personal interaction through basic understanding of human senses, will and envie. Seen are those sour expressions, now insecurity expressed by taut faces too ready to flip into another twisted form like swerving one's steps on a path dotted with potholes filled with water. Despite being so infectious it is learning after all, but only through self-mirroring. Yes, as a few of so rare experiences, I have come across so lovely smiles emanated from lovely cosmopolitan faces younger than 10. I should say they have healed me so far.

*

One of my fellow compatriots here in France, who I met a few days ago after almost a couple of years, has left me sort of trying to figure out how to see through his eyes. He has changed a lot. Now equipped with a smart phone, an iphone, with constant beeps indicating influx of incoming messages on Wechat, he switched between personal interaction with me and dealing with his phone like he was rather semi-consciously hovering betwixt the two. Once poked at his fuss, he nervously behaved like he wasn't paying attention to the other. Knowing him so far, even back in India where he used to be a loner, I had the impression that he might be seeing me as just there, a company who breathed and talked. Once spotted something of his interest on me, he sneered and seemed to be seeing me as a comic figure trying to compose myself in letting appear less lagged behind. Or, as per his own fuss or semi-consciousness, as a drifter, a lost one. It was like our insecurities communicating themselves without our conscious knowledge. That is what we have become aside from the more fussy businesses of searching for, having yet not satisfied with a drudge. Not seeded with a viable learning root, we just let ourselves become alienated from us. But we pose to be interested in our cause as ambiguous as relying on, mouthing in quandary like a child learning to speak for the first time.   

Sikyong: I, not You

Ever heard about such mode of casuistry? It's about sort of collective karma that we like to mouth and lip-hallow. For the ongoing staged campaigns by the five self-declared candidates for Sikyong 2016 and from the footage, thanks for Internet and our mass media portals, I have learned about it. One of the candidates did almost brazenly say that it could be the collective such destiny of the Tibetan for electing him who can be destined to lead us to the same appeased victory. Yeah, it's okay. He can say so or make such ambiguous remark, if he is that thick-skinned. But he didn't stop there. He was too obsessed with self-illusion not to reveal his parochial stand that the other, one of the five, as sort of collective ill-fate, if the majority supports him or if he wins by it. His own self-importance and depicting the other, one from Tibet who had been political prisoner, as down of our collective well-being are too much for me to digest or ignore. Does Free Speech support groundless defamation by cleverly playing with such abstract notion?

WHO AM I?

It costs the ability to maintain a thread of recalling consciousness (is it called mindfulness), especially at the nick of time to do a great job of any from creativity to means of taming inner jumble. It's really a challenging task, not for simpleton. Yes, but there isn't such one as simpleton but self-obedience. The other way is not to give one's ears and eyes to single channel. Hypnosis engenders jingoism and depression. Like overused la paix and love pluralism is at real stake--we are being compelled to conform to a single order, mode, style, taste and even way of thinking. That's horribly disgusting. Shallow individualism to mechanical mode of speaking to digitized brains are the worst victims. I wonder if they can taste pizza as pizza. Clever are those brooders, thinkers who have every back up not to give way to self-destructive pique and chagrin. Yes, poor and free. I can't say happy as that abstract entity hasn't a uniform experience like joke.