Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , , , , ,

Choki Sherpa and Sujana Rai, the flower sellers.


It’s very hard to see people selling colours and happiness to people but there are some who sells contentment, happiness. Choki Sherpa and Sujana Rai have been selling gladness, a sign of bliss to the other people (customers) from the past six years. They have settled their shop beside the S.T.N.M. Hospital below the Fly over. One can see variety of flowers like Jarbera, Rose, Lilly, Anthranium and some seedlings of seasonal flowers in this mysterious place. The place is usually crowded with the hodge podge of tellurians, vehicle’s honk etc. They have now taken the business as their vocation and further while trying to understand about their life. We came to know the following fact files.

Chunki and Sujana started the vocation blindly by just thinking of engaging and making life full of activity. As time passed by, they slowly went on realizing the bitter truth of life; they had and still have to face various difficulties. They rope in flowers basically from various places of Sikkim like Daramdin, Namchi and Dughalakha etc. Even the varieties of flowers keep on changing on the basis of season and climate. Chunki further stated that People in Gangtok enjoy buying flowers and people from all walks of life come to buy flowers. She further affirmed the business to be delicate as the flowers gets damaged oftenly and if we demand 400 flowers than its very usual that out of the total flowers quarter gets damaged in the first hand only. But still, their passion is as such that it can even defeat the worst of challenges.

On the background where it’s difficult to find Government jobs, Private jobs in Sikkim in particular and the world in General, These Flowers sellers undoubtedly sets a perfect example to all the people to utilize their creations in a best way possible and further proved to be a best example of the quote “Become a job giver rather than a job seeker”. The shop keepers have now given job to two or three job seekers.
It’s just beautiful to see people buying flowers for their loved ones who might be waiting for them in home, hospital or in a Café. A flower has the potential to change the mood of men from awful to wonderful. Masochisting the pain behind, person like Chunki and Sujana still ushers multiple happiness to the people of the city. Such is the life of the Flowers Sellers and the beauty presented by the flowers. 

As “Kahlil Gibran” upon flowers has rightly stated: - “I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath; I am the memory of a moment of happiness; I am the last gift of the living to the dead; I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.” 


Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , , , ,


by - Dweep Mustang. 

 Myriad streets, the coal churning toy train, clandestine lights, and a posthumous humorous man. We are talking about a man, who was/is widely known amongst the Nepalis' diaspora, for his much revered stomach aching jokes. We are talking about the posthumous HumJayega, “The King of Nepali jokes and humor”. He is at a meagre amount imagined much as a fictional character by most of the Nepali speaking people. Let me evase this distortive notion pervasive. Humjayega's original name was Dal Bahadhur Gurung, born in the early years (1921) in a very hardworking peasantry family in the outskirts of Darjeeling in a place called Chungthung Tea Garden. His father’s name was Lt. Man Bahadhur Gurung and his mother’s name, Lt Amrita Gurung. His wife’s name was Lt. Dhan Maya Gurung. Furthermore Humjayega in English means “I Will Go” as per his working audacity even in harsh situation.

                 Lt.Humjayega's Scottish Cap.

A brief account about/on HumJayega.

Dal Bahadhur Gurung, also known as Hum Jayega, had five children out of which four were girls and one, a boy: Jina Gurung, being the eldest of his daughters, followed by Jasudha Gurung “Late Geeta Gurung”, Indra Gurung and his only son Dukraj Gurung. 

The king of Nepali humor had a unique way of life. Apart from being a jeep driver, he was a responsible family man, who took extra care of everyone. There lived a moribund society of the natives and the saheb's(Gorey babu). Darjeeling that we see today was built step by step by both the babu's and the natives. The weekly market in the past was named as "Gundri Bazaar". It maybe rendered that Darjeeling had progressed much more than the less developed other hilly regions and it was an almost surreal place to the bucolics. As a result, the centre (Darjeeling) had all its hold on the modus operandi of the periphery. 

The wildfire that has now spread all over the forest, the first flick has to be the healing heights that the hill queen had already attained during a deficiet time. 

Darjeeling soared high and so did Humjayega, he portrayed his life, full of pomp and grandeur. “He hardly let others feel unrest”, and would on most of the time joke with the gathering in Joey’s Pub “If we eat “Gundruk”, we should come out of our house, prickling our teeth, as if we had eaten a huge lump of meat”. Many of the people talk about Hum Jayega and regard him to have died because of extreme drinking. Far from the rumors, he was a moderate drinker, who, after drinking two pegs of alcohol, would face the mirror and joke to him-self. Dukraj Gurung, the youngest boy child of all the children, fondly remembers the yesteryears with his father Hum Jayega. Dukraj states: “There is a lot of misleading information about my father: In this world, more than being a humorous celebrity, he was a humble person, kind, down to earth and loved by the children of the village. First of all, I would consider late Hum Jayega to be the father of not only me, but of every Gurkha. He did not know English language, but still, he had that aura of entertaining all the tourists, and moreover, every tourist would want to get in the cab of Hum Jayega, “cab number WGY 1265”. He was influenced by the everyday riddles. One could find him humming typical Nepali songs like “Saili Maili Darjeeling Kasto Cha”. He happened to act in the Kollywood film, “Kusume Rumal”, and the lyrics he pronounced were written by him-self. 

The most surprising event that happened and came to be known is that he was born breech. There is a belief amongst Nepali's, that if a person is born breech, he/she can cure body aches. Dukraj Gurung states: “I use to enjoy people suffering from back-pain or body aches. My father, standing upon the body, would cure the person with his feet. There would be a queue in front of our house just to get the healing kick of my father. Dukraj opines another incident “Once, while coming from Nepal with my father, there was a sudden indefinite strike. We were in Kakarvitta, Nepal, with limited amount of money. I wanted a soft drink, so we went to a hotel where a person identified my father. Thereof, slowly, people started gathering around, and than the laughter continued.... As a result, we stayed in the same hotel for five days without payment. Each and every time I called my father, people gathered around him, would buy my more soft drinks, so that I would not disturb the guff”. Most of the older people in Darjeeling still remember his European outlook. His dress style was proper, with a Scottish hat, tidy ironed clothes, either with a chequered jacket or coat, and well-polished shoes”. 

Humjayega's Youngest son Mr.Dukraj Gurung with
Kapil Thapa, The Runners Up of Indian Idol.

As we know, he is no more with us. But HumJayega’s legacy remains, as his quotations, such as 

(i) “Royera Bidha na deu malai, ma ta hasi hasi jana chahanchu”.

(ii) “Today I drank a peg of Rum and my heart is warm, my hair is white, cheeks wrinkled with a red nose, this dirty coat and a torn note of mine, no one does accepts. Now, everyone knows me so nobody gives me anything in credit. For, Oneday Humjayega “and many more.

Before his death in "Bara kakjhora", a very harsh and coincidental plague struck during winter season. It had already led to the death of twenty-one neighbours; all the villagers were frightened and brought in shaman to look in the matter. But the plague was too enigmatic to be ceased. Hum Jayega started feeling ill. Even the hospital staff and the medicine could not save him, only to have caught his last words: (Aab kohi nahi jayega, Aab HumJayega) “Now no one is going, but I will go”. Along with his death, the avenged plague came to a halt.

His Chequered Coat and Ironed Attire.

Darjeeling is famous for its tea, toy train and landscape. But let us not forget Hum Jayega, for his unique identity may perish someday. Hum Jayega dedicated all his life to the happiness of the people. He would hide his sadness and teach people the joy of laughter. A music album on the Late. Humjayega entitled as “30 point Humjayega” with artist like Indian Idol Runner’s up Kapil Thapa, Thupden Bhutia and many more and a biography on Hum Jayega will soon be available on the market. 


Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , ,


The place abundantly filled with nettle
It is where our ancestor happened to settle
Turning its face towards Darjeeling
The rustic sensation from “Moh-Bhir” flies with its wing
Gumpa Dara nestled in its head
People to Barsey enroute do tread.
The heart of the town
A five minute long bazaar wears a gown
Colorful myriad gown
Majestically, the heart of the town (1)

Stretching its one hand towards Timberbung,
The tune of “Haakparey” do the Limboo’s sung.
The melody of “Dohori, Haakparey” flows
By the rice, paddy field that glitteringly glows
To “Tharpu” just below its navel
The bucolic tunes just like Aesop’s fable
Suddenly arouses the man from their babble. (2)

The city of light
To the further does it bright
“I don’t want to remain in here”,
In damp; Malbasey utters in fear
Playing its reed while herding the cow
Making the enthused spirit of Budang low
What has happened and gone wrong?
Oh Shamans… elucidate the gist of the song (3)

The natives then play the tune of Malshree
Evoking the content reminiscence of by gone days
The Limboo carrying its kettle drum plays,
The myriad beat of animism.
Malbasey hereof smiles in the shade of pantheism.
The sound from the Kettle drum
And as the then tunes of Malashree hum
Mingling with the swirling flowing Rangvang rivulet (4)

The gorging and swirling “Rangvang” rivulet
To its foot positioned like bed
While Tharpu and Budang at times
Malbasey during weekends
And Timberbung, once in a blue moon
Rests their head in the bed like rivulet
While Soreng looks upon
At the bed shaped rivulet
Soreng… About to utter but calm
Obelisk and quietly stands tall. (5)

  1.  Soreng – It lies to the West of Sikkim. It was previously known as “Sore-yong”. A name which was kept        by the Lepcha’s as the meaning in Lepcha - the place full of nettle.  
  2.  Lepcha – The aborigines or the natives of Sikkim.
  3.  Barsey – The Rhododendron sanctuary in West Sikkim.
  4.  Darjeeling – The famous Hill station faces Soreng face to face. Darjeeling also known as “Gundri – Bazaar” during the past yester years.
  5.  Moh – Bhir – “Mohbhir” and also known as “Bhir Dara” is the ultimate face of Soreng. It may be one of the highest precipice in Sikkim and is very unique as it attracts a lot of tourists.
  6.  Timberbung – A small mainly Limboo inherited village in Soreng.
  7.   Tharpu - A small mainly Limboo inherited village in the outskirts of Soreng.
  8.   Budang - A small village in the outskirts of Soreng.
  9.  Malshree -A beautiful tune played mostly during the celebration of Dashain. This tune gives a melancholic reminiecenes of Dashain and Tihar which is observed by the Nepali people once in a year all over the world.
  10.“Haakparey”- A limboo way of singing song which is full of rhetoric and prosody
  11.Dohori – The Nepali name for folk song which is sung between two arch rivals as they continue to thrash                                    each other by words used in their song.
  12. Malbasey – The birthplace of former Chief Minister of Sikkim. Shree Nar Bahadhur Bhandari.
  13. Rangvang Rivulet – A small rivulet that flows by the foot of Soreng.

"The Sanctum of Art"

Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , , , , ,

My First book entitled "The Sanctum of Art" in collaboration with Pempa Gyatso Lepcha.


The story content in the various books deals either in the name of “Art for Art’s sake” or “Art for Humanity’s’ sake”. The book “The Sanctum of Art” deals with both types of narrative description and is a compilation of the features displaying Post Modern themes and style in Prose and Poetry. It further portrays the post modern factors like angst, absurdity and existentialism etc. The chapters in the book are all related to realistical issues except for the topic of Tibet which has been taken from the Documentary “Kekexilli,” The Mountain Patrol”.
Furthermore as quoted in the book!
Inside all human lie sublime feelings and only the one who sticks to it can express them freely and this inner tranquil place being called "THE SANCTUM OF ART". So, at this point people, readers maybe curious about what might be the inner core of the Art? There is nothing that can be hidden and there is nothing that cannot be known. Well, the sanctum of Art from the views of the reader may refer to various passionate things. It depends upon the way how they perceive the Sanctum. An Art has no limitation and in the same way Madness and Creativity are infinite and boundless. Art defines what human values and morality fails to define. There is nothing above and beyond art because the way of being Human is also an approach of Art. An art has the capacity to lend hand to the people to hold on to their Dreams, It has the capability of reaching itself to the unseen and further bringing the hidden to life. The passion and their march towards liberation of writers like John Milton, Shree Laxmi Prasad Devkota and Shree Aadi Kavi Bhanu Bhakta etc. Are we to define or term their passion as Madness or Creativity?

The Book as written by Dweep Subba in collaboration with Pempa Gyatso Lepcha has tried to label the definition in the following way –

Madness… Every day we try to learn something new gaddingly. In this march towards liberation which is swayed by passion in every voice, image, talks, gossip, situations becomes an allegory behind every writing and painting.

Creativity ... speaking for those who can't,
lending a hand to hold on to their dreams
and reaching out to the unseen...
bringing them to life,
assuring them that they are remembered,
for they too belong here
and that's why God created colours.

Madness and Creativity belongs to God, It is the Key of His creation.

Furthermore, the book was released on the eve of 198th Bhanu Jayanti Celebration in Soreng, West Sikkim. The book is now available in various book stores in Gangtok, Namchi, Darjeeling and Siliguri etc. The Book is an epoch and has been looked up as an artifact globalizing the literary taste of the Himalayan state.

Martyrs and My Revolution…

Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Martyrs and My Revolution…

Born in this immense land                                                                                                                                           
Sprinkled with the blood of martyrs, is the enormous land
The sea of hugeness and prideness of this land infinite, pure and chaste
Where blood of brave martyrs and their commitment we find. (1)

Bejeweled with Hill, valley, river, springs, mountain and plains                                                                  
Teaching Ahimsa, Love and Unity to the world
 Edifying the power and strength is this Great Gandhi’s land
Such is the homeland, uniting various religion, culture, language and tradition
Whereby there flows pure Ganges and Yamuna instigating the message of yielding.
But! (2)

Today the condition of this land is blasphemous                                                                                                               
The heart of this motherland is grief stricken and tortured.
It seems the image of brave martyrs getting diminished before thy sight
It seems the bravery and valor of the brave martyrs living out to be only an Oral story
With people paying no heed and veneration (3)

In the name of the homeland trampling thy selfish wish and dream                                                        
A son defying the oddity of his land seems to diminish
Since we find no one to transform the dream of brave martyrs into reality
Absconding Vanity and untruthfulness, embracing thy arms of Truth and reality
We find no one!
The karmic land of the martyrs today has been a chopping board of the meek and poor
Where a raped woman, we find wailing upon thou smell of avarice and sin
Where we find suffering of a juvenile boy upon the famine of hunger and thirst (4)

In this country which instigated and accentuated “Satya Mev Jayate”,                                                                   
It seems the land only being ruled by (Asathya) Untruthfulness
In this holy land where humanity aroused
Shrinking of Humanism is what we find
In order to fulfill the dreams of thy martyrs
Our civilization is need of a warrior (5)

I will borne a revolution and forever be a revolutionist                                                                                  
Shall cleanse away the name of unjust and unfair
Shall put an end to wants of the suffering martyrs
Even, shall wipe the tear of the weeping mother
And continue to erect the wall of truth and mercy. (6)

But my revolution will not be that of guns and bullet                                                                                      
But that of knowledge and intellect
The ideals will not that be of Hitler but shall espouse the morals of Ahimsa
My revolution shall carry and fabricate the inferno of Peace and completeness (7)

My friend now is the time not to scatter and ramble                                                                                      
But a time to join hand in hands and arm with arms
Now the time is not about you and me
But the time is to proclaim our message of courage and guts. (8)

I shall now assert my upheaval and lit the fire of revolution                                                                         
The warmth of the fire shall not heat you but shall provide gust of air
The revolution won’t abide the selfishness and egoism like mine
But shall endow in it the values of serving with pride (9)

If given a chance to meet a valor death during revolution                                                                             
Will, I gladly accept,
And after death a truthful proof of my love towards my land
To Almighty I would at last gladly espoused (10)

… I shall hereof be a revolutionist and shall give birth to a revolution.


Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , , , , ,


As time passes

You will know how much I love you

I wake up imagining your gestures

And I sing heartily

Forgetting the veracity all behind.

I love you so much,

Never was my feeling so strong

Never was myself so alive

I feel…

What mighty hearts failed to feel?

I love you so much,

For night holds thorn

And like a creeper grips me

Up in the skies

Layers of grey fog shackle

I call upon thee

But devious thunder overhaul

I wail, weep

Rain rinses potent tear jointly

I call upon thee

As of roar

Supersedes thou truthful voice


The tears trickle down the aisle

Only to amalgamate with the rain

Never gets the voice heard

And never gets the cries glimpsed.

But, as the time passes

You will know how much I love you.



Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , , , ,


Thee, a sign of water
Flowingly permeates me.
Colourless yet transparent
Nothing to hide... Water...
Water I find in you.

Quenching my thirst
I find water in you.
A drop of you forms myraid ripples
Abstract ripples...

The colour of my life
Along with water Immemorial
forming ripples
It is how my life flows.

Water is all I find in you...

Sheer Feelings... Minute Feelings...

Author: Dweep Subba / Labels: , , , , ,

Sheer feelings… Minute feelings…

Silent talks is there in the lips

Whilst not been provoked

Only takes a glimpse from the eyes

While with you, whilst with me,

It wants to hear few expressions

Exhibiting appearance till lips

Would disembark she!

Uniting voice with the arm of its voice

Toil thou!

Whatever the talk is

Its sheer feelings… minute feelings

Like fragrance it is,

Hovering in the winds

Cologne which is dumb stricken

Even you know the address of it

And the information, so do I

Thou cannot be veiled from the world

Don’t know… What furtive is it…

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