Nothing is more painful than revisiting the old hard times.

Revisiting Childhood Days

                   Part I – Rural Growth: A blessing in disguise

The article will be full of digression. Please bear with me. My thought is  bizarre, so is my writing.

I was born and brought up in a far-flung village in Lhuntse Dzongkhag – to be more specific Ladrong under Jarey Gewog; the gewog once considered as the least developed gewogs in Bhutan. I can still remember that the annual gewog performance ranking would be 205 for Jarey Gewog. Indeed, the last rank! The nearest market and road connectivity are 15kms away from our Gewog. Kurichhu and rugged terrains played their part in thwarting the developmental activities. Until 2010, we did not have electricity and until 2012, we did not have road connectivity. We are isolated.

Ladrong Primary School and Ladrong BHU - II.
Photo Courtesy: Ms. Reidi, Himalayan View

Until I was 12 years old, I have not been to the nearest road point cum market area - Autsho. It was only when my dad decided to take me to market place to buy some basic necessities for upcoming local festival – Lha[1]. And I assure my readers that during those days only privileged few of my contemporaries got to go there. My experience was – I was in another part of the world. I realised that there are settlements beyond hills of my village and plains at the foothills. I saw motor vehicle for the first time. Being a barbaric village boy, I had to run away when someone starts the engine. I haven’t heard such annoying sound before. All I was acquainted with were sweet melody of brooks, early morning zephyr, chirping of birds and those of cattle, horses, cats, cocks and dogs. My dad asked, indeed, requested the shopkeeper to give me a peg of orange squash. I took a sip and I was like what – these people take sweet water made out of tsalu[2] all the time!

Ah! I forgot one thing. While crossing Kurichhu Bridge, something took away my eyes with the flow of river. Later I realized that it was motion sickness.

I had seen car in 2000. Until 2001, I haven’t ridden one. In 2001, when I was in class five, there was inter-primary school Dzongkha[3] Mid-term Exam performance competition. I was informed that I was one of the prize recipients. It was announced that the prize will be awarded during the National Day Celebration in Thimyul. Three others students from my community won the award. Our fathers were guardians. On 15 December 2001, we came to Autsho (my second time) to travel to Lhuntse to hold a night before proceeding to Thimyul on 16^th. My dad told me that we will be going by sa-ri-b-c.[4] I was already imagining so-called sa-ri-b-c must be a huge object for its going to carry all five of us. I was told by people in my villages that first timers will puke when traveling in gari.[5] I was tensed and whenever I saw cars coming towards me or going away I used to get butterflies in my stomach. Finally at 03:30pm the sa-ri-b-c arrived. It was a green DCM truck. We climbed and took seat on an empty wooden bench fixed on the cargo bed of the DCM. The engine started and everything was moving along with me. I told my aku[6] who was sitting next to me that why all the trees and mountains are moving. He told me to look at the very distant trees and mountains. I nearly puked but I managed withstand it. I was able to debunk the myth of puking while riding motor vehicle for the first time. The night that we spent in a forest below a footpath on the basin of Kurichhu on 16^th December 2001 was so romantic. The fire that our parents made to cook and warm us was so charming that Wordsworth, Shelley or Keats would have written a poem describing that beautiful night. The melodious flow of Kurichhu in darkness added a soothing charm of the serene night in Thimyul forest. My dad and I carried a blanket and he allowed me to use it. He must have spent sleepless night adding woods to keep fire alive.

Waterfall on the way to Jarey Gewog from Autsho
Dergang Chhu
PC: Ms. Reidi, Himalayan Views

My world started widening as I grow up. My four year stay at Tangmachu Middle Secondary School and two year stay at Lhuntse Higher Secondary School, erstwhile known as Phuyum Higher Secondary School had allowed me to see other part of the world through books and occasionally through television. When most of my classmates talked so much about going to Thimphu and Phuntsholing during winter vacation and having fun, I would just recalled my happy vacation back at village herding cows, going to jungle to bring bamboos and collect firewood. At times, our friends would keep on talking their fun times in hostel room late into the night, and I used to think why I am really unfortunate. I have not gone beyond Mongar until 2007. But I used to console myself that I will study hard and will go to see Thimphu one fine day.

However, I was contended being in village. I used to interact with elders in my village, learn values and skills from them. I get to go to different households for chogu.[7] Moreover, I was with my parents. Today I can proudly say I know certain level of cane and bamboo works, wood works and masonry. I know all most all the farming works – from ploughing of field to cultivation of paddy; from sowing of seed to harvesting. I know how to milk the cows, churn the milk, extract butter and make cheese. I know so many wild products which are edible. Thank you Apa and Ama[8] for not having any relatives in Thimphu during my upbringing.

In 2008, I was selected to participate in the first ever Golden Youth Camp in Thimphu. The journey, though by bus, it was really enthralling. When I reached Thimphu, I realized that it is a big city. I kept on forgetting routes. The funniest one is I was on Lungtenzampa Bridge and I could not find the way to go to the bus stand. I walked over the bridge four times. And someone saw me doing that time and again with a bag on my shoulder and asked me “is everything all right?” I replied to him that I am looking for a way to go to bus stand. With a broad smile on his face, he showed me the way right in front of me. I had failed to notice steps leading to bus stand right under my nose. Thimphu was too crowded and noisy for me then.

My dad is a chowkidar in Basic Health Unit – II (BHU-II) in my village. People used to refer to him as chowchilla[9]. And children – chowchilai busa gangpo. [10] It’s a kind of discrimination. My mom is a farmer. Her health is fragile and most of the time she used to fall sick and even today she does. Both my parents are my inspiration and my role model. They are indeed, HEROS. With their proper guidance, I am where I am today. As I sit in the hut of my office terrace, I can vividly remember how my parents suffered for our upbringing. Access to monetary activities is limited those days. My parents struggled to get Nu 150 to pay our school fee. Though life was hard in rural areas, my parents never let us feel hardship. My dad and mom would go and attend the chogu of relatives. However, whatever meat item is being served, they would not eat. They would pack meat in bangchung[11] and bring to their kids. Such a love and care! A selfless love. Kadrinchey beyond the earth and sky.

To be continued… 

Thank You Your Majesties and the Philosophy of GNH - [upcoming]

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[1] Bon festival celebrated in Maedtsho and Jarey Gewog in Lhuentse, and Tsamang and Banjar Gewog in Mongar Dzongkhag.

[2] Orange.

[3] The National Language of Bhutan

[4]  During those days, the people in our community used to pronounce service as Sa-ri-b-c. It is a daily transport service between Mongar and Lhuntse operated by Jampel Transport Services in Lhuntse.

[5] Car

[6] Step-father – one’s father’s brother.

[7] Annual Puja

[8] Father and mother

[9] Chowkidar/caretaker/sweeper

[10] Children of that chowkidar

[11] Cane product which serve as a food storage

Thank You Teachers

As I realized lately, May 2^nd was at my threshold. The D-day is very special to every Bhutanese. History noted the date. We recall this date. And the celebration ensues paying tributes and gratitude – tribute to His Majesty the late third Druk Gyalpo for opening the door of this tiny Himalayan nation to the outside world and gratitude to all the teachers in Bhutan for widening the intellectual horizon of Bhutanese youth.

Ever since we join schools, we are with our foster parents. Life started shaping in their presence. My ability to write and read this is purely given by my foster parents. ‘A’ for ‘Apple’ and ‘Z’ for Zebra, teacher taught us in elementary classes. From ‘Dechen and Dorji’ and ‘Momo Monkey’ to ‘what should do’ and ‘what we shouldn’t do,’ we learnt as a part of English subject. ‘Water cycle is continuous movement of water,’ is learnt as a part of EVS in class 2. ‘BODMAS stands for bracket, of, divide, multiply, add and subtract,’ class 4 Math teacher conveyed to us. ‘Galileo Galilei invented telescope’ Class 5 Social Studies teacher told us. ‘Process of making alcohol is an example of distillation,’ class 6 Science teacher taught us. འདས་ལ་འཕུལ་ཡོད་ཡང་འཇུག་ཡོད།། མ་འོངས་འཕུལ་ཡོད་ཡང་འཇུག་མེད།། ད་ལྟ་བ་ལ་གཉིས་ཀ་མེད།། Class 7 Dzongkha Lopon imparted to us. Class 8 History teacher communicated to us that ‘the Battle of Changlingmathang was fought in 1885.’ ‘Tethys Sea disappeared due to plate tectonic movement’ class 9 geography teacher uttered while teaching Bhutan Geography. Class 10 Physic teacher in conveyed to us that ‘latent heat is heat needed to change solid to liquid, liquid to gas and gas to solid’ in class 10. ‘V₁/T₁ = V₂/T₂ is formula for Charles Law’ learnt in the same class but in Chemistry subject. ‘Endocrine gland is a producer of chemical messenger in the body,’ biology teacher told us. ‘In economics, goods and services are abided by the law of demand and supply but Giffen goods defy the law’ taught Economics teacher.

Invincible! The knowledge we gained is profound. We learnt a lot. The knowledge of teacher flows like a water, never ending, though long and tiding, the final cause is efficient and effective. There will not be kings, politicians, doctors, engineers, architects, planners and policy makers had there being no teachers. They are the machines. They manufacture raw materials into fine products. Teacher is only profession where maximum dealing is made not to papers but with human beings.

The work of a teacher is not confined to a classroom teaching. They are the guide, advisor and friend. They spend hours of their precious time in preparing for the next lesson. Families are paid little concern. Hours of shouting in the class, hours of preparing, hours of guiding and hours of motivating us, teacher devotes their time to us, a much sacrifice is done for us.

Many people attribute education as a light in the darkness but what if there are no teachers to convey the content of education. Teachers should be given more credit for they are the middleman. Teachers make us wiser and broader in terms of thinking. They elevate our horizon of intellect.

Teachers hardly complains about the hardship they face. They merely assume to enjoy their profession. Teachers in the rural part of the country walks miles from the road point. They prepare lesson plans under the dim kerosene light, inhaling sooth and weakening their health. Though constraint by limited technologies, imparting knowledge is not hindered. Teachers bring all the best possible solutions to help the learners.

When we are wrong, they never ostracize us. Instead they correct us and encourage to change ourselves for a greater cause. When we are emotionally down, they provide us with walking stick. When there is a very tiny place to stand, they sacrifice for us. When we are alone, teachers walk by our side. When are in the darkness of misery, teachers come with the torch of solutions. When we are trapped in the chains of problems, teachers come to us with bunch of keys to unlock. When we are flying high, teachers never envies us. Instead they watch us fly with a beautiful smile.

Thank you teachers for your wisdom, hard work and sacrifices you made for us. You make our world – lucid and firm, calm and enduring, bright and pleasant. Thank you teachers.

If you are reading this, it is because of the teachers. Please thank teachers for their efforts.

Division?

Recently, I was going through Thimphu Confession Page. I was somewhat distracted by what I saw. It is not what I wanted to see. A person with hidden personality has written an epic story. As a democratic country, the writer, whosoever it be, has the right to express his feelings. But one thing you should never forget is when we have rights, we also have duties. The writer has written something about Lhotshampa and Sharchops. Expression of frustration is being penned in the confession. And I was really disturbed by the fact that the administrators of the page posting such confession. It actually sounds, especially to me, not like a confession. It is rather a revolting thought expressed in words. The writer somehow demands division, and the true meaning of confession faded in the air with the breathing of the confessor wrote the confession and the administrator who posted the confession.

Another case is defaming students studying in India, especially girls. Whether they go after Indian guy or with animals, it is their life. They ought to have their freewill. They know what are they doing, and their doing will be good as long as it does not hamper our national security. If you think girls going after Indian guys is a total blunder, don’t we have our people married to foreigners? Why are we so much against Indians? And one confessor does not want them to come back to Bhutan. If so, then where should they go? Aren’t they registered with the civil census of our country?

We always talk about GNH and being Buddhist. What we do in actuality and what we speak are hardly in line with those that we talk. GNH and being Buddhist is not all about hurting others’ sentiment. We all talk about Bhutan being harmonious country in the world, but aren’t we indirectly calling violence in our country? We have so many incidences calling for division. Some people blaming the government, some blaming opposition, some saying DPT was bad, some saying PDP is not worthy and many more. What are these indicating? A division.

We need to know that Bhutan is a country with just 38,394sq.km of land with nearly 700,000 people. We do not have economic might. We are far behind in technology. Military might is just a dream to be achieved. We have intellectual might but we lack proper platform for the intellectuals. We talk so much about rich natural resources but we do not have enough to develop our country. The only thing that kept our country secure is our unity – our ability to stand together in the times of need.

Division can be possible, but when we go for division, we have to think a lot. We are a small nation with just a walking stick to stand. If we break the stick, the pieces cannot function as the previous stick use to function. Division is an easy thing but uniting is difficult. For a population less than 700,000, it is wholly wrong idea to go for division. Being Bhutanese we love division, indeed. When there is election, Bhutanese people have gut not to talk with their relatives for not supporting the political party that they are inclined to. Aren’t we living fools?

Be it Sharchops or Ngalops or Lhotshampas or Khengpas or Kurtoeps, we are all Bhutanese. We have been together from times immemorial. And why can’t we do the same from now?  Bhutan is not a land meant for experimenting. It is a country meant to live for posterity. We cannot go and experiment division right here.

We have seen so many riots in other parts of the world. The riots are mainly attributed by division. We see religious massacre, caste massacre, creed massacre and many more. Do we really need such thing to happen in our country? Do we need somebody to dictate our government?