I heard from someone that “Life is a race not a morning walk”, Shame on that guy ha ha, just kidding I totally agree.
Hours slips by like minutes and minutes like seconds. The clock makes me nervous, wish I had the power to edit it and make it slow-mo. A sit-down lunch is a luxury, jokes are refreshing no matter how stupid, subway cars are resting place and the lonely walk back home from the train station is when I become a singer! ha ha
Thats life in New York City eh?
We exchange thousands of words in a day,
Few, only a few, stays in our memory.
We meet hundreds of strangers, shake their hands or hug and kiss
Few, only a few, stays in our heart.
Once in a while I miss mussoorie; Dalai hill, camel back road and the ever so romantic company garden.
Dalai Hill is a small hill just above the beautiful Tibetan Monastery (the first monastery in exile) and behind Central School for Tibetans Mussoorie. I remember there was a tiny narrow path leading to the old stupa, the walk was always refreshing, colorful pebbles below my feet and the vast blue sky over my head, the cool wind always made me feel so free and strong. A broken rusted iron gate would welcome me to the stupa, I would always try to fix it and temporarily would fix it but it would be broken the next morning (yes, I went almost everyday to Dalai Hill 
The smoke from the burning incense at the corner, would make the stupa look heavenly as if I was walking into the clouds and the fluttering sound of the colorful prayer flags reminded me of my existence.
I would alway stand on the edge of the steep hill and look down towards the small and distant world. I could see my school and a small village nearby, busy people; running here and there, talking, eating etc. and I was up there, doing nothing but watching and feeling the wind. I don’t know why but I remember I always did that.
Jigme and me composed a lot of songs on that same hill. Words that we thought about, he would put into rhythm with his magical guitar skills and we had a song every time we came back from that hill. Jigme later formed, now famous, Tibetan Rock band JJI exile brothers with his brothers.
Camel Back road was basically again a narrow road behind Mussoorie’s main bazaar and that was the place where young dates would stroll. The name came from the view of the camel back shaped hills from the road and not the road itself. I had been a lot of time on the camel back road, unfortunately not on dates 
but for mischievous reasons. There was a cemetery we would often visit to see who got scared first. That was so stupid but we often went there on midnights.
Once I was standing behind the abandoned church and I was talking to, whom I thought was my friend Tenzin, we were there for a hour or so but I noticed he looked bit strange… ha ha just kidding. I don’t wanna spoil your dreams.
O Company garden. What can I say. That was the official romantic place in mussoorie. couples from all over India would come there during their honeymoons. The view of the majestic hills from there was awesome, there was also a small artificial pond with oversized boats which was so fake but other than that, everything was beautiful. Me and my crazy friends would usually rent bikes on weekends and disturb the peace there, the gatekeeper hated us, just below the garden there was a small road with makeshift Tibetans shops selling Manali shawls etc.
Back in school, everybody was so open and innocent. Friends were real, food were real (organic? ha ha everything is organic in India; come on) and nobody had to work!
Sorry, were you saying something about some Shambala thing?
O man, I wish I could rewind or had the power to edit life.
Nevermind, I’ll wrap up now.
The road to mussoorie from Dehradun.
Why can’t we sit down with the Dalai Lama who has abandoned calls for “independence” and now advocates a “middle way,” and negotiate with him with sincerity, to achieve “stability” and “unity” through him?
