Pema Dolkar’s silky hair
A tale of love, betrayal, and self-discovery, follows Pema Dolkar as she breaks free from a toxic relationship, choosing self-respect over heartbreak.
The door opened, and he entered. The lonely, miserable bed now had two occupants—sleeping together yet so distant. Yeshi Dorji fell asleep quickly, while his girlfriend, Pema Dolkar, who had been waiting for him, twisted and turned throughout the night and couldn’t wake up early the next day.
He was already downstairs making breakfast, whistling a new tune. She looked at him, amazed at how he could be in the kitchen pretending to be fine when nothing was going right. Their conversations had dwindled, and the communication was barely civil, but at least he still looked happy while she looked a mess, dark circles under her eyes from overthinking about his whereabouts and which woman it might have been this time.
She looked at his face and felt betrayed but chose to remain quiet and passive. He glanced at her and asked if she was feeling better. She was about to respond when his phone rang, and he quickly made an excuse and rushed outside to take the call.
Pema couldn’t take it any longer. She went upstairs, packed her bags, and met his shocked eyes at the door.
“I’m leaving you. I can’t live the life of a doormat anymore. I tried hard, you know that, but I can hardly recognize myself,” she said. Through sobs, she told him how depressed she was and that it was high time she took control of her own life. She hugged him tightly and whispered that she loved him dearly, but her self-respect wouldn’t allow her to endure this any longer.
He made a feeble attempt to win her back with the same tired excuses. When he realized she was serious this time, his mood shifted, and his true colors showed as his face turned red with malice, hurling expletives at her.
But it was truly over. She decided to ignore him, walking out with her head held high, though her heart was breaking inside. She chose not to show how she really felt, refusing to give Yeshi the satisfaction of seeing her shattered. He didn’t deserve her love anymore. Though a part of her longed to forget everything and embrace him, she knew Guru Rinpoche, her lord, wanted her to stand up for herself.
The fatherly love she so desperately craved and tried to find in her boyfriend had failed her repeatedly. Now was the time to choose herself and learn to love herself, not seek it outside. She was beautiful, talented, and intelligent. Yeshi, four years her junior, wasn’t as well-educated nor did he earn more than she did.
It was her inferiority complex, combined with overthinking and a people-pleasing mentality, that made her feel ugly, low, and undesirable compared to her boyfriend. Yeshi had won her over with his seemingly innocent and simplistic behavior, presenting himself as a hardworking, gullible simpleton from West Sikkim—a stark contrast to the lazy, pleasure-seeking men of Sikkim whom Pema disliked. However, like all those before him, Yeshi was merely pretending to be a good guy. Once Pema let her guard down, he controlled her emotions while he feigned decency.
When Pema left, he barely noticed her departure before calling his latest conquest to his flat. He indulged in a wild affair with a married woman, despite Pema’s warnings. However, he soon grew tired of her demands and manipulations, realizing how foolish he had been. Yet his ego prevented him from reaching out to Pema, though he did stalk her social media and kept tabs through mutual friends.
Three years later, outside the ATM near MG Marg, someone brushed past him to enter. Just as he was about to protest, he looked up—surprised to see his ex looking radiant in a pink salwar suit. She smiled at him, making his heart ache as it had three years ago when he first saw her at the jeep stand in Geyzing.
His mind flooded with memories—how he had charmed her with his simple ways, only to betray her loyalty. He recalled the countless times he had lied to her, expecting her to stay despite his indiscretions. Initially, he felt relief when she left, free from the guilt that gnawed at him after each affair. But over time, he loathed himself and the shallow flattery he used to manipulate women.
The pain of her absence grew unbearable, but his ego kept him from reaching out. Now, seeing her again, he mustered the courage to face his mistakes, uttering a weak “hi.” However, his hope was shattered when a gust of wind lifted her silky hair, revealing the red vermillion hidden beneath.
Pema walked past him without a word, as though he had never existed, never been the cause of her tears or panic attacks, never the reason she had to seek therapy. She had walked out of his life, never to be a doormat again. She had healed, thrown herself into her work, and married her best friend, Umang Rai—a man who respected her, the very quality that led her to say yes to his proposal.
For Pema, self-respect had become more important than love. She found the peace she had longed for, missing in her previous relationship. As she walked away, knowing Yeshi’s eyes were upon her, she silently thanked Guru Rinpoche for the heartbreak that had set her free.
She hailed a taxi home, never looking back, knowing that whatever happened had been for the best—just as the Gita, gifted by her husband, had taught her. Though she worshipped Guru Rinpoche, in Lord Krishna, Pema had found a true companion.
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