Wednesday, 24 December 2014


In a bush covered lonesome moorland,
A lonely old-timer watches his cattle grazing
From a mossy rock that is a vantage point.
He beams sending furrows deeper on his wizened face,
A bamboo hat on his head, a machete hangs on his hip,
A flute to serenade is tugged under the belt,
The belt that holds his threadbare Gho well above his knees,
And he shouts barrage of habitual commands to cattle in the meadow.

In the distance is a small hamlet,
Dark houses sprawl on the slope,
Till the place where no longer a home can stand.
Eerily silent the hamlet looked from afar,
Hardly is it different when you are closing near.

Dark are the houses and some in ramshackle state,
All bear sooty looks from ageless use,
Of ceaseless burning of woods in their hearth.
Though they stand as testimony of habitation,
There is no sign some are in use anon,
And the cowboy says half are empty and half on the verge.

This is the place where many herded cattle,
For generations and as long as he can remember,
Where they played traditional games in midday,
And in groups shared some of their rowdy jokes in rain,
Of their muscular heroics and tryst with fairer sex,
But it is he alone who come to the same place now.

His bones are aching from arthritic joints,
His muscles are wasting and eyesight failing.
One day he will no longer herd his cattle here,
And that will be the death of a tradition, his infatuation.

His heart laments on his emptying village,
The old are passing and young are schooling,
Learning how and why not come back to old ways,
The agile are drifting looking for greener-grasses,
People are becoming heartless like any other races.

But he leaves a message-what you are looking for is here,
He know it’s all futile and no one will lend ears,
No one is made to listen but to be egocentric,
He cries inside of what he is witnessing,
This village now is a far cry from what it used to be,
But, he must be subservient to the fate he is consigned,
To the day he is able; he will come back and herd his cattle here,
Until he is no more able or no more are his body and soul together.

Gyembo Namgyal
December 24, 2014
9:30 PM


  1. what a writings la...keep sharing

    1. Thank you Sancha sir. Hope you are having a great vacation.