Even when the path is unclear
You keep walking
Trusting that each step will find its ground …
The world shifts around you
But your courage stays steady as breath …
There is no need to rush
No race to win
Just the unfolding of your becoming …
Every doubt carries a lesson
Every pause a gentle renewal
Every moment a seed of strength …
You are here
You are trying
And that is already enough …
If someone listens to a song
And she appears in the verse
Not summoned, not expected
Just felt, like a breeze through a half-open window
Then that is love in its gentlest form …
Not loud, not declared
But tucked between notes
Where memory breathes, and the heart still knows
What it never forgot …
And if they play it again
Not to relive the past
But to feel her near
Just once more …
Alas, the song fades!
But somewhere in its echo
lives a moment
They never said goodbye to …
I was listening to a song when a sudden thought settled in, if someone ever hears a song and thinks of me, isn’t that one of the most deeply emotional and sacred gestures?
That moment stayed with me, and I ended up writing ‘When a Song Remembers Her’ … It doesn’t follow any structure or rhyme, but it holds something personal, love, memory, longing …
Maybe it’s a poem. Maybe it’s just a feeling shaped into words. I’m not entirely sure …
But I wonder, what do you think, can something like this be called a poem? Or does a poem need rules to be real, or can it simply be a moment that moves us?
Also, I’m just wondering about you, have you ever heard a song and found someone gently returning to your heart through it?
Tell me,
Isn’t it beautiful how music remembers what we try to forget?
I♥️
When R stepped off the small plane that landed in Paro, Bhutan, she felt something shift, not dramatically, but like the settling of dust after a long journey …
The valley stretched wide beneath her, green and golden in patches, framed by distant, unmoving mountains. It was quieter than she expected. Even the wind seemed to move gently, as though not to disturb the stillness that held this place together …
She had arrived not as a tourist, but as a teacher, a woman in her late thirties from Bangladesh, with a degree in English and a quiet but persistent belief in meaningful work. Years ago, it had been just a passing dream, one that took root on a monsoon evening back home, when her father handed her a book after returning from a short business trip to Bhutan: Married to Bhutan by Linda Leaming. She didn’t know then that the book would become more than a gift. It would become a roadmap …
She read it in one sitting, and then again, slower. The words painted a life far from the chaos she knew: one of rhythm, simplicity, joy without extravagance. Something about it stirred her. Not just the country itself, but the idea that a person could choose a gentler life, one rooted in intention. Ever since, the desire to live and work in Bhutan stayed with her, not loudly, but like a thread running through her decisions, pulling her quietly in one direction …
It took years to make it happen. Teaching jobs weren’t easy to come by. There were rejections, delays, moments of self-doubt. But eventually, things aligned. A school in Paro welcomed her. And so she came, with a suitcase full of essentials and a heart full of the unknown …
The school was modest: a few classrooms, basic supplies, and a staff of deeply committed educators. Her students were bright-eyed and curious, some from the surrounding hills, others from the valley towns. They called her Miss R with respect and affection. She taught English, but often, she felt she was learning more than she was giving …
In Paro, life had a slower pulse. Mornings began with mist hanging low over the rice fields. The walk to school was lined with prayer flags and the occasional passing cow. She started wearing the kira on school days, awkwardly at first, then with growing comfort. Suja, salted butter tea, became something she reached for on chilly afternoons …
She missed home sometimes: the sound of the call to prayer, her mother’s cooking, the overlapping laughter of cousins. But Bhutan had offered her something she hadn’t expected, a deep and gentle space to grow. Here, her work felt rooted. Each lesson she planned, each conversation with a student, each moment of solitude looking out at the hills, it all added up to a life that felt fuller, simpler, and strangely her own …
Some evenings, when the rain returned and wrapped the mountains in silver, she would pull out the old book her father had given her. The pages were worn now, the cover faded. But the feeling it gave her, that tug toward a life of simplicity and purpose, still felt as clear as it did all those years ago …
Living in Bhutan hadn’t made her someone new. It had returned her to someone she had always hoped to be: grounded, purposeful, and joyful. She wasn’t searching anymore. She was, finally, living the life she had once only read about …
She is here …
Teaching …
Living near the mountain valleys she once only imagined …
And in doing so, she has become a part of a beautiful story …
And at the end of each day, amidst mountain valleys, in the hush of Paro’s twilight, that felt like enough …
Bhutan has a sacred place in my heart. I visited once, and it felt like stepping into a world where everything slows down. Peace seemed to rise gently with the mountains …
I remember the kind people, the prayer flags fluttering in the wind, and the quiet beauty of the dzongs. Everything left a deep impression on me …
Rafting was one of the most exciting parts, unexpectedly wild, joyful, and full of laughter. That whole trip was truly an adventure I’ll never forget …
Before leaving, I bought the book Married to Bhutan from Paro International Airport. After reading it, something in me shifted. It changed the way I see life, more simply, more mindfully, and with a greater sense of purpose
I hope to return to Bhutan again and again
Out of life’s deepest tragedies often rise the wisest truths : pain becomes the teacher, and time, the witness …
Now the evening descends in stillness
And the burdens of the day return to the hands of the Divine
He knows what the heart held in silence
And wraps the soul in mercy, soft as dusk …
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Recently I happen to read a haiku by Bashō:
Such stillness
the cicada’s cry drills deep
into the rocks.
It stayed with me. The depth, it felt like something more than words. That’s when I found the Japanese word Yūgen. It means a deep, mysterious beauty that can’t be fully explained. It felt just right for what I was feeling, so I kept it with me, as the title for something I’m slowly shaping in my heart …
Yūgen (幽玄)
A deep, mysterious sense of beauty and the grace of the universe, often felt during twilight or in quiet moments
Build, love, and strive in silence. Then arrive with grace, not noise; after all, why reveal your next move when the final one will speak for itself!
Are you guarding your vision or giving it away too soon?
Reflect and focus on your vision …
Your absence hums like a violin string snapped mid-note
A comet that vanished before its trail could unfold
The eclipse of a lighthouse on a storm-battered coast …
Time crawls, a spider weaving webs of empty hours
Memories linger like fireflies trapped in a jar
Each one dimming, yet refusing to fade into stars …
Your voice was rain stitching needles through thirsty leaves
Now silence looms like an unfinished symphony’s grief
A mosaic missing its most vivid, sacred piece…
I search for you in the scent of forgotten gardens
In waves that speak like poets lost to their stanzas
In winds that carry secrets of unuttered mantras …
Truth is, I miss you like the moon misses its tides
A ship adrift, no constellations to confide
The ache of a heart where all its echoes reside
I♥️
My Dear,
It’s likely that as you were writing to me, I was walking back home from work, taking in the beauty of the flowers in my charming neighborhood …
I adore my neighborhood. The scenery is incredibly captivating with its tall trees and beautiful blossoming flowers. I frequently opt to walk home from work, as it’s only 850-1000 steps from my workplace to my home …
So, what I was saying about my neighborhood!
I really admire the shade under the tall trees and enjoy watching the breeze rustle through the colorful bougainvillea. It’s lovely to see people walking along the footpath and enjoying their time. As I passed by the mosque, I noticed people seeking relief from the scorching heat under the trees in front of the mosque. I adore the vibrant colors, the fragrant scents, and the sense of simplicity in that scene.
It was scorching heat outside. And there I found myself embracing the warmth of the surroundings. There was refreshing cool breeze and thoughts of you. It may sound unbelievable, but it’s the truth. Your presence in my thoughts remains unwavering amidst the whirlwind of life’s events. Please, believe that.
So, where was I? I was expressing my fondness for the delightful, blossoming, shady path in my neighborhood and how much I’m fond of you …
Today I took a break from work as I was feeling an intermittent cramping in my abdomen. Some rest will help me feel better. However,. Sudden leave from work leads me to think, “How can I best utilize this extra time at home?” Swiftly, I begin mentally compiling a to-do list. Eventually, I decided to walk back home…
While returning, I found myself feeling happy to see these blossoms and greens. The outside heat was too strong but I cared less and I continued walking, intermittently pausing to capture photographs.
I returned home and checked my email once again. I was so surprised to receive your mail. This news brightened my day so much that now I feel inspired to spend the next few hours painting.
I find great pleasure in painting when my heart is filled with happiness and I was very happy to read your mail.
Your words and painting will grace my own solitude for today, now and here.
Do you enjoy solitude?
I eagerly await your response to my somewhat poetic emails.
Have a peaceful, wonderful, blissful day!
Yours truly,
^^
Do you enjoy solitude?
C’est la vie means ‘That’s life’ 😊
There once was a curious soul
Wondering how your days roll
What activities fill your time …
It’s something she often wonders about …
Completely immersed in the moment
What do you do when you’re happy or very happy?
Can you perceive
An unseen bond between us?
It ties us together; trust it, my love …
It’s invisible, yet unmistakably sensed
Certainly by me …
Do you not sense it as well?
A connection surpassing time and distance…
Ours is an endless bond
Our eternal, cherished blessing …
Through moments fleeting and forever
The thread weaves its way …
Stretching, sometimes tangling,
Yet resilient, unyielding …
As time, as it is infinite, it will stay …
Oh, my beloved, my dear …
Please pardon me, the mistake was mine
Throughout the moments we shared
And the clarity we’ve known …
It took me a while
To fully understand your essence …
Now I know
This love endures, and
Time, place, circumstance may shift,
This love is unbroken, my constant uplift …
I’m uncertain if the title fits these verses. Do you have a suggestion?
^^
I reconnected with that girl anew –
Who once embraced life fully …
Who danced with every step and radiated joy
Whose eyes were some sunflowers, blooming
And whose soul ignited fireworks, dazzling …
I played music for that girl again …
In hopes that its melody would ignite her spirit within
Creating a haven for her to emerge from the shadows
And dance once more under the stars …
Knowing that she would find solace within these moments
With each sunset painted in hues of gold
And each gentle breeze whispering
Through the trees ….
I hoped to create a sanctuary where she could feel safe enough to reveal herself once again …
Deep within, I felt her presence stirring,
A flicker of recognition amidst the silence …
Longing for my kindness and effort that shimmered with possibility
I vowed to nurture her return
To guide her back into the light
Where she rightfully belonged ..
She belonged to the poetry within her …
The pic is from the archive of memories of a young girl; another of her mirror image. She was travelling by train, from Kolkata to Delhi ….
It was an amazing journey!
His presence lingers always
In thoughts, he resides …
When will I be able to let go of the enchanting pull of Kashmir, with its grand mountains and stunning scenery? I believe I’m entirely in love with it.
Discovering happiness and serenity along the path and journey ….
Have you ever visited a place that lingers in your mind long after you’ve left?
Your thoughts are coming in waves …
Ceaselessly, constantly …
Crashing upon my mind’s shorelines;
Uncontrollably …
Hijr/ urdu
(n.) the feeling of having lost or been separated from a loved one ….
What broke your heart so bad
That you had to close every door,
That you say you have a dark soul
And can’t utter the word ‘love’ anymore?
Sanhita Baruah
Quite heartbroken wounded words these are, yet so beautifully expressed, I think. So I shared with you all …
I loved these lines so much that I even tried to recite in my naive voice. About the recording and my voice, I think I sound too childish, and that makes me feel nervous about it. It might sound boring to some, and it’s a bit dramatic also, as if I was actually telling you …
I hope you know this …
Love & Light,
Roksana
Midst the silence of the valley
As I walk through
I feel
My hurt inside is too loud …
Midst the silence of the valley
As I walk through
I feel
I’ll never ever forget you …
Midst the silence of the valley
As I walk through
I feel
I just don’t want to let you go
But inside I know I must …
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Roksana Tales 