Proud to be a Sikkimese: Sikkim Travel, Culture & Local Heritage

My mother O! The moving air, O! The moving air, When you move around, did you hear of my mom? I feel, she is somewhere there beneath the blue sky, she hides. She is timid, she is shy, look for her, and you might get her. Do tell her, we miss her, Do tell her, we still believe her. Our world has not changed; our memory isn’t so bad, Unplugged we do live to her; do tell her, we love her. O! The moving air, Help me send my message, Help me on my words. Memory keeps on coming, Eye dries up every morning, But the moment is still alive, alive to my heart, alive to my breath. I keep on saying, there shall come a day, someday, We shall meet again, Where I shall again touch her, feel her. If you happen to meet my mom, Promise her to visit us, to the same place, To the same heart, where she left for forever. O! The moving air.

I wanted someone to write on the book Don't Ask Any Old Bloke For Directions but never found any, the book is something i too wish to read and for some time had been hanging around my fantasy. Out here in Singtam, i do not find people wasting time flipping around quality books only flashy magazines rocks here. It was a sudden meeting with my former senior colleague Serah Basnet of Weekend Review days all thanks to the beautiful Facebook that she send me a link from a page published in The Hindu which might be of interest to many. In earlier post i had shared a similar review on the very book written in one of the web page which to me wasn't a pleasing reading still i gave a try, at least some one would come up with a better review. But i believe like me they might not had gone through it or could be they did not find my post worth commenting. Out of no where i found a comment from some Anonymous. I would love to share his/her view straightly... "i enjoyed the book imme...

The historic bell (the new mandir is in the background) I first wrote about this Rongli Shivalaya Mandir bell in 2003, but even to this date, the mere thinking of that bell fascinates me. I never had imagined that a small article would have such an impact that the old mandir was dismantled and the new mandir was set, which is still being completed. More than five years later, when I again decided to re-write an article on this bell, I just wanted to have a first look at that antique metal piece. But this time, I was awaiting more mystery about the bell's whereabouts. I still recall when the century-old Shivalaya Mandir at the heart of the Rongli bazaar was dismantled for renovation in 2004. The relics were kept in Rongli Police Station for safety. This time, my cousin's brother Praveen and I were looking for that historic bell. Still, to our surprise, the personnel at the Rongli Police Station were somewhat surprised to know that such valuable materials were a...

I am starting my 2009 with an old poem writtten by me and published at Weekend Review Newspaper. Sukhim , Sikkim and me!!! It was an awesome dream, A dream that had million trims. I saw a battle being fought, A battle that had no army men, No weapons and no horses, And still it was a war, A great tussle of words. A shinny man in old torn cloths, Touching his withered forehead, Caught on with the debate, I tried my best to recognize him, But the wrinkled face fooled me. Upon I look to the other side, A debonair, dashing, Determined face he had, I took a chance, And went close to him, I easily found his freshness, Phoney it did not looked. But I felt, I should, Ask both of them, Their existence, And the word for their fight. The beard man looked right towards me, He saw my sleeping suit and looked his upon, He rubbed his eye and moved his lip, Slowly he told, he was “Sukhim”. From the past he had come, For t...