Gifting me my Lost Dream

Eight years ago, I proudly walked the gate of Kuensel for my first “Best Story of the Month” certificate. That was just the beginning of the long road. The next month I saw my name again. I had been unkind to Writing then; from the prize money I bought watercolor and brushes. I was appreciated more for my paintings those days. Of all the prizes for poem, short story and paintings that followedI was moved by the “Best Short Story Writer of the Year” award Drukgyel school gave me. I changed my dream. I wanted to become a writer. I used to say, my dreams may change me but I won’t change my dream.

By the end of another year I had completed 30 short stories, edited them over hundred times, and kept them aside for publishing. I designed a cover for the book, wrote the introduction, even the acknowledgement. Everything had to be edited over years…many names changed in my acknowledgement. Perhaps there are none now.

How many stories you have finished by now? If someone asks me this question, my answer is: 30. I never wrote again. It’s not that I gave up so quick, I had to give up eventually. I went from publisher to publisher, printing press to government agency with no money in my pocket. I finished several shoe soles to return disappointed every night. Everybody promised me something and none did anything actually. They say it is not profitable. I even said I want no money out of that!

I spent thousands in printing manuscript and binding them for submission and many of the publishers have a copy with them, may be not anymore (they may not know that I spent all my pocket money on those). What left me disheartened and discouraged is not that they didn’t accept it but they rejected without even reading a story. I know it is not my fault at all but why to write in a place where even publishers can’t read.

Thus, I lost my dream…

But dreams die hard. My friends and teachers from good times regard me as a writer, thank you so much, even if I am far from it. Sometimes I run into strangers who tell me that they read my story or poem and express how good I am, thank you for the pleasant surprises, in those brief moments you reminded me of something great. And most of all, my friend Nagwang never leaves me alone, just as Kezang Namgyel is. They squeeze stories out of me with their good intentions. I owe these two guys my best dream. Thank you for gifting me my lost Dream.