d for dzong

winter is in the bones. and i remember a year ago at drukyel dzong. bhutan's last outpost that in medieval times fought away invading chinese millions with a handful of sharp archers.

in their frocky khos, archers lined up behind drukyel dzong's baked walls and aimed and rained arrows on the hordes. that was many centuries ago. today the walls are crumbling under the weight of one too many indian tourists' graffiti onslaught. i love you rani. kemcharan das, patna 1996.
one year later i'm still besotted. with 3 days in paro. when paradise briefly relented a peek. in bhutan something strange touched me.

and it continues to itch.