Chaychay’s Tree House

When Charmi called me up to cast my daughter Ninzi on a television show, my wife and I agreed without question. Charmi had taken Ninzi on a stage show before, and we have seen how she was a magician in bringing out the best in people and more. Therefore, when she asked, we knew it would be a great learning experience for our little one. Knowing our daughter, we were worried if she could go the length of a 10 episode marathon. But Charmi had no doubts. She was confident, having worked with Ninzi on a show before and seeing her cute videos on Ninzi Show.

While it was Ninzi whom they signed, my wife and I had to be on her duty throughout the shooting. When we began, I had little hope. First, I was worried if my daughter could handle the volume of the script she had to study for each show and to shoot for hours- wouldn't she be a burden on the rest of the team?. Then, I wondered how the show's format, which is shot in the studio, would appeal to the masses in the era of great cinematography and special effects. 

The entire cast and crew with Dasho Kesang Chuki Dorji

The shooting of the first episode alone shot down all my doubts. My daughter was completely in her elements in front of the cameras. My wife looked at me with teary eyes when she said, "It's as if she is not our daughter Ninzi once she is on the set." At home, we struggle to get her to be serious about anything for an extended period, and here she was doing an entire show with such maturity. 

When the show went on air, it was warmly received by the people. Children hummed the tune of 'Chaychay's Tree House' jingle when they saw Ninzi, while the parents were grateful that such a show laden with knowledge and wrapped in fun replaced the foreign cartoon shows for a while. The reviews were great. 

As the youngest member on the set, my daughter was a real Chaychay in the studio as much as she was on the show. She was showered with affection. And soon we didn't even have to drop her or wait for her, she managed with her new family. She enjoyed her time with them no matter how long the day stretched. You will see the chemistry between them on the show. She was playing along with rockstar Aue Kunga Tenzin Dorji and little star Sonam Choney Dorelma, who helped her in getting a better grip on the art of acting and performance.

Episode 1: Funny Weather 

Episode 2: Little Me

Episode 3: Fun with Numbers

Episode 4: Jojo and I

Episode 5: King's Love

Episode 6: Young Archer

Episode 7: Oval Face

Episode 8: To Sir and Madam

Episode 9: World of Colours

Episode 10: Pride of Lions

And behind the camera, besides the show writer and director Charmi Chheda, there were two other ladies, Tashi Dema and Neelam who juggled so well between their professional roles and being a crazy sisterly figure for the girls. Thank you to the ladies for being a memorable part of my daughter's life. And thank you to all the crew members who worked so hard in the background to lay the foundation for the success of this show. 

I Lied in 1988

I have only a few fragmented memories from my early childhood. It’s said that you remember those moments for certain reasons, buried deep within our subconscious mind. One such memory is of my friend Pempu. He was the first best friend I had in my life. We went to Gyensa Pry School together in 1988. I was 5 and he must have been a few years older. 

My First Best Friend Pempu. I owe him an apology. 

A senior from our village, Achu Rinzi, locked us inside an abandoned BHU during our exams and we had to repeat PP together. From the next year, we refused to be kidnapped during our exams and I did well in exams year after year but Pumpu repeated PP several times and realised school was not for him. We went on to help his father who was a rich nopoen (Yak header of Dasho Lampon). That’s how our journey parted.

During my Young Professional Leadership Program (YPLP) at RIGSS, Dr. Adrian Chan gave us a seemingly simple exercise to draw a Personal Event Timeline. It was to dig deep into our memories and record those events that had some sort of lasting impact. He believed that an unexamined life is not worth living. 

In deep silence we were to travel back in time and note down those impactful events from our life: 

1. What was it? When did it happen? 
2. Why was it impactful then?
3. What have you learnt from it...?

Wow, it was intense. I never thought it would be so emotional to evaluate something that has become a part of the past a long time ago. There were some seven events that made me slow down and take notes on my swift walk down the memory lane. I hope to blog about them all gradually. 

Pempu During 2017 Yangto Bongko

The very first memory was of Pempu. I saw myself waiting for Pempu to come out and play with me after we returned from school. My mother was not home so I was still in my school uniform. He did not come out. I made our usual code sounds but he showed no sign of coming out. 

I was lonely and upset, and thinking of ways to take revenge on him. I still don’t know why I didn’t just go in and play with him in his house. The next moment I saw myself climbing on the stonewall of his kitchen garden to get his attention. That was when I stepped on a loose rock and the stonewall came crumbling down with me. My big toenail was gone and it was bleeding badly. I cried as loudly as anyone could hear but no one heard me. I limped my way home and fell asleep at foot of the ladder. 

“Lama kheno, look what’s happen to my son.” My mother's loud cry woke me up and I began to cry again. She asked what happen and before I knew I had said, “Pempu did this to me.”

My exhausted mother, who has just returned from the field carried me on her back and stormed towards Pempu’s house. 

“Chimi Gyamuuuu..... Kaka Tsheriiiiii... come out and see what your son has done to my child.” My mother screamed from outside Pempu’s house. The whole village would have heard it. 

The whole of Pempu’s family looked out of their window, shocked. “Pempu didn’t even go out after he reached home.” Aum Chimi, his mother, shouted back as a matter of fact but my mother was so furious and went on cursing them. They defended Pempu for sometime and after a while, they were convinced that he must have sneaked out without their knowledge. I could see him being dragged away from the window by his father, who is known for his bad temper. Then I heard my revenge, some thud sounds and his deep bear-like cry. 

I could almost see the look of evil on my face as I recollect that event. I was five. How did I even do it! We must have made it up the next day despite our parents warning us not to be friends anymore. And over the years I thought the event had faded out but during the exercise, in deep silence, the event played in front of my eyes like it happened yesterday, and more dramatically I could see myself in the third person. 

That’s when I realised that guilt from 1988 has lived with me for all these years, because otherwise why would I remember it so vividly when I can’t remember any other thing from the ’80s. I think, perhaps that event must have shaped me into an honest person that I am now- considering the burden of guilt I had to carry to this day. 

And yes, this has helped me become a smart teacher and parent who adores children for their cuteness and innocence but won’t rule out their capability to lie and manipulate the truth.  

I owe Pempu an apology but I think he won’t even remember, it’s me with whom I have to make peace.

Two Precious Years to Mature- by Removing Class X Cutoff Point

(Re-sharing my facebook post made on Feb 4, 2019) 

Unlike in the past, class X graduates are now barely 14-16 years old. When such young teenagers don’t qualify to study in class XI and if their family can’t afford them private school education then they have to go out trying to make a living on their own. 

They are not yet ready to make good decisions for themselves, and they are not physically ready for laborious jobs or worse for marriage. But once out of the school, they are on their own and vulnerable to all sorts of social ills and abuses. We all know that.

Government allowing them to stay two more years in the school, by sending to to class XI, is a blessing of two precious years to grow, mature and become more ready to face the world. 

There are many examples of people who went to private schools after X because of their bad results, and had their awakening in the two years, thereafter acing their class XII exam and doing so well in life now. Therefore, these two precious years are vital in allowing children to grow from child to young adult. Not everyone will make the best of it but what’s important is the opportunity that must be there. 

Talking about the whole cost of giving scholarship to thousands of otherwise disqualified candicdates, we must remember that it’s a priceless investment in our national Human Resources Development. Of course, like Tenzing Lamsang suggested, we could reduce pressure on the cost by giving it just to the needy one. But at the end everything will be worth it.

Constitutional or Not, In my opinion, without trying to play with legal words (which I don’t know), if Constitution could speak it would say, “I’m so happy that you did more than what I thought would be possible.”

Simple example could be that of our forest cover, we are required to keep 60% of our country under forest covered, but having 71% is not unconstitutional. It’s rather a pride. So is the move to give free education till XII.

Some are questioning what this move would do to the quality of education. Well, rethink equality of education. What schools and teachers can do to transform these children into good human beings (without caring about their exam marks) will determine the quality of education. We often mess up in thinking that the exam marks determine the quality of a human begin. We must stop that.

Honest Scooter

A brief story on this incident was earlier posted on my Facebook wall. 

A few days ago I witnessed a disheartening incident at the Changlam square in Thimphu. There was a group of high school girls who hurriedly gathered along the pavement, craned their necks across the road and began laughing at something seemingly very funny. I got curious and walked a few step to get their perspective. I thought they were looking at Phuba Thinley because he was capable of making people laugh on the street.

But just then I saw a young couple riding on an old Bajaj scooter and the girls continued laughing as they passed by. It looked like a typical scene from a movie- a snobbish gang of girls mocking at a poor newcomer in the school parking. The couple seemed to have noticed because they parked behind a car and didn't come out until the girls left.

My Friend Che Dorji sent me this picture to make his statement

I looked at the girls and wondered how it was possible for these young girls to reflect the same old school outlook we saw during our times. I thought their generation shunned this cheap social-status mentality but I felt so sorry to see the dark shadow of our generation cast over their innocent path. They forgot the Cinderella story already. They had
misplaced their values living in our hypocritical society.

For them the scooter was a joke. They couldn't see how unpretentiously the couple rode on what they could afford. They couldn't see the humility of the couple to ride a scooter among the big cars. They couldn't feel that perhaps it could be an honest scooter owned by a content family.

And perhaps they didn't know that laughter could be dangerous; the couple might go home and think of buying a car and to afford the car they will land up selling their happiness, and worse even their honesty and integrity. But I prayerfully hope this didn't happen.

It's not nice to laugh at anybody unless they are joking, but if children love laughing at all I recommend them to laugh at high profile thieves, con artists, and manipulators who have betrayed the king, country and the people. Their name list is with the ACC and many names have already been published in media. They may not be riding on Bajaj scooters but whatever they are driving is stolen.

Letter to Kelzang Chhoden

Dear Kelzang Chhoden,

Along with thousands of people across the world I read those heartbreaking letters your dear husband Tenzin Dorji wrote to you ever since you left him. It was so painful to read yet so enthralling to avoid. In the midst of reading my vision would blur and before I realise tears would roll down my cheeks.
In those letters we knew you, we saw the radiance of your young heart; in those letters we celebrated your selfless love; in those letters we felt your ambition and drive for change, your perseverance was far ahead of your age; In those letters we pained in your sickness and those letters shattered us in your death.

But you left behind a dream, and I am writing to tell you that your husband lived that dream bigger than you ever thought. You have left him a purpose, a deeper meaning to seek in your death beyond the endless tears and sleepless nights. He hasn't left a single stone unturned in building your dream on his broken heart. I must tell you that your memories have touched countless lives, which pains me to wonder what you would have done if you lived on.
It's the hardest to digest knowing your death was avoidable and I am proud to tell you that your husband fought a hard battle against all the people who were involved. He knows that you are gone forever but he didn't want the same to happen to anybody. I hope this time the message went deep and high.

Tenzin Directing a Child at the Camp!

Your husband engineered your dream into Camp RUF(Rural Urban Friendship) and it has inspired the largest assembly of charitable Bhutanese, they came forward to offer help in all humanly possible ways. They came together to support your husband in his sincerest pursuit of your dream. They seek love, compassion, kindness, and peace in helping him because his love for you, even in your permanent absence, was a heartwarming surprise.

We followed your dream to Dagana, Lungtengang Pry School, the school where you taught. It reminded me of my one year in Sombaykha, Haa. I saw the room you lived in, the ceiling was almost falling down and there is hardly any natural light coming in. The toilet was over hundred meters aways, without water. Tenzin told me how hard it was to walk you over that painful distance at night when you were sick. I felt so guilty knowing that in your sickness you lived in such difficult place while we lived easy urban lives.

The camp, likewise, was a big eye opener for the 54 urban students and volunteers. I had joined over 150 campers as a photographer along with my South India friend. While I grew up in village and had been in equally difficult place yet the camp had so much to offer. It made us realise how many things we have taken for granted, it made us realise how ungrateful we have been. I could see the reflection of how the urban children would feel in my Indian friend. He was a lucky child and he only realised it in Dagana. He was totally underprepared for the place and after four days he literally gave up and I had to leave the camp with him. He still tells me that he is happier than ever after Camp RUF, he says he now has no complains about his life at all. I hope the camp had same impact on all the children too.
Your mother and sister graced the camp and I know how painful it must have been for them to be there but you should have seen the pride in there eyes as they look at your husband. When your mother left she left a message for him, "Tenzin, you are no more my son inlaw, you are my son."

Those four days at Camp RUF with my camera gave me the opportunity to capture the joy of giving, the joy of helping, joy of sharing, the joy of friendship... I will never forget that expression on Ap Phuntsho's face on the day the campers help him rebuilt his home. I wish I had stayed one more day to experience the moment when children visited their host families and gifted them clothes. But I know by leaving the camp early I have saved myself from the terrible pain of departure. Those three evenings where I presented the photo slideshows made me feeling the subtle attachment to those innocent faces and selfless friends I had captured.

At times among the busy crowd of happy campers I saw your husband lost in his thoughts, I know he is wishing if you were there. Sometimes it seems like he gave way too much joy that he had nothing life for himself but he told me that those silent moments were spent in celebrating your memories and thanking you for giving him so many sincere friends and making him live a purposeful life.

Lone Tenzin watching the campers 

It been a while and I am looking back at the pictures from the camp and in those thousand pictures I see how a man can change the world. Your husband made it. I hope the successive camps will be as successful and inspiring.

With Love
Aue PaSsu

P:S: I forgot to tell you that Tenzin has finally decided to move on. He found a Kesang in whom he saw a little bit of you. I met her on my way back. I hope they find in each other the divine love you left behind.

Rastafari in Primary School

What is the significance of Rastafari (The green-yellow-red) flag? The question is no even important to anyone of us. Whatever its significance were in its glory days of 1930s, now it’s reduced to a mere symbol of Marijuana smokers. The flag and its ideology has travelled countries and oceans from Ethiopia to Bhutan. It has invaded the young minds with illusion of fashion and happiness. Now the taxi and trucks are carriers of the tricolour flag. 

The Flag that has nothing to do with Bhutanese Truck, Taxi or Youth yet they all carry it so religiously! 

It’s already a worrying trend that a new flag has become a symbol of something very exciting among the young people and that they are proud of it, and what makes it scary is that the adults who run business make all the choices available for the children to pick- from shirt, scarf, cap, locket, wristband, handkerchief, to name a few. 

Bob Marley, a Jamaican reggae singer-songwriter, who sang ‘Buffalo Solider’ and ‘No Women, No cry’  was a very popular Rastafari (follower of the believe or movement), today not many young people sing his famous songs but they do carry his picture on their dresses or ornaments along with the tricolour flag. He is now considered the lord of the drugs. He died in 1981 from drug overdose (Sorry for the factual error) and after 32 years he is still brainwashing children.

It was bothering me for years now and I have written about it before. More trucks and taxis are decorated with the flag each year. Suddenly one day I went to a primary school for some official work  and there I was confronted with my worst fear. I always thought this ideology won’t make sense and would spare the primary school students but the first child I talked to was wearing a Rastafari wristband. 

“Do you know what is this?” I asked, with the hope that he must have worn it innocently.

“It’s Rasta, sir” Which means he knew all the wrong connotations of the flag and still chose it wear it on proudly.

“Do you know what type of people like this type of bands?” I was hoping again.

“Yes sir, people who love Marijuana.” It broke my heart right way. 

The evil ideology from 1930 Ethiopia has travelled across time and distance into a primary school classroom in Bhutan. That child wasn’t the only one with that fascination for marijuana, throughout the day I was in that school I had to see chilling number of children with that dreadful influence. By the time I left their school gate I was convinced that only few who are parented well will be spared.

The flag has already found it's way into Bhutanese tapestry 

Note: RSTA can help remove the flags from all the trucks and taxis if it's done during the annual fitness test- because it's not our national flag. It may sound like a petty thing but as a teacher and parent I must tell you it's a sign, a very bad sign. Bhutan need not go through this. 

Bhutanese Mask Collector

Forgive my ignorance but I have never heard of any Bhutanese Mask Collector, or for that matter any sort of collector. We consider that as the prerogative of foreigners. I have rather heard of Bhutanese smugglers who buy antique mask to be sold in black market across the border, never to be seen by any Bhutanese ever. I have also heard of foreigners who collect mask, antiques and ingenious art pieces and fly them away from Bhutan. Many of us are more than happy to see our priceless art pieces fly away overseas.

Believe it or not, there is a Bhutanese who is doing his share of collection. He won't let us sell all our arts to the foreigners. His name is Kelden Jigme Namgay (Call him KJ). You won't believe he is just a two year old if you see his mask collection. This afternoon I went to meet him and with the approval of his parents and grandmother took pictures of him and his collection.  

KJ with his collection

He is not only the youngest mask collector but also perhaps the only collector in Bhutan. He is just an ordinary little boy who is born among the kids who love wearing Spiderman and Batman mask but quite strangely KJ started asking for scary Bhutanese masks ever since he could demand for toys. Sometimes he would ask for a specific mask and his parents have to scan all the handicraft shops. His collection is built mask by mask, from Paro, Thimphu and Bumthang. He knows the masks by their names and can even locate where each of them are bought from.

The Collector. Photo Source: His Parent's Collection

It was this summer that his parents could finally make him happy after finding the last missing piece in his collection: The Dudhar Mask, the white mask worn in the dance of death. They couldn't find it in any of the handicraft shops. It was finally found in Paro Airport handicraft shop. He almost rescued it.

The Last Mask: Photo Source: His Parent's Collection

It's hard to say if KJ was born with that interest or he acquired it later but one thing that we must acknowledge is the way people around him nurtured his unique passion. Children of his age are after Ben10, Chota Bhim, Spierman, etc but remember no child is born with love for cartoon films, it's the lazy parents who let such movies babysit their children and overtime they tend to like it. We force children to like cartoon movies but KJ's parents and grandma didn't let that happen. They let him be different.

KJ lives with his parents and Grandma in Punakha.
Enjoy his collection:

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

Twelve Frames of Inspiration, No Bob Marley

When we were young Bob Marley was just a great singer who sang 'Buffalo Soldier' and 'No Woman, No Cry', Now Bob Marley has suddenly become a god among the already confused generation. The Rastafari Flag, with either Bob himself or with a marijuana leave on it, is all over the place. For someone who died in 1981 to brainwash smart kids of 21st century is so unbelievable. Bravo Bob.

He is on the cap, scarf, shirt, locket, wrist band, pants, shorts, socks, shoes, taxi, truck, and even on the cover of textbooks and notebooks (kids buy three cello-tapes to cover their books in Rastafari Flag colors). If Bob Marley lived to see this day, how proud would he be? I swear he will shoot himself. Of all the things in the world he wouldn't want to be worshipped as the lord of the drugs. Bob Marley is grossly misunderstood by this generation and therefore when you see your child liking him you should start fearing.

Where does your child take inspiration from? If people on television can tell what your child should believe in then you are even closer, you should touch his soul with your strongest finger. If people in the town can influence your child more than you then you should question yourself.

I am a computer teacher, and I don't want my students to worship someone, they believe, who smoked marijuana all his life. That's not, I suppose, why they chose to take up computer. I want them to read about Bill Gates and dream big, I want them to believe in the excellence of Steve Jobs, I want them to be fans of Mark Zuckerberg and aspire to be like him... I want them to pause and reconsider where they want to go in life.

Therefore I want them to look at the Twelve Frames I have hung on the Computer Lab Wall, the twelve pioneers in the world of computer technology, and wonder how they must have done what they have done. Wonder, Appreciate, and Get Inspired.

12 Frames on the Wall

Enlarge the picture and see who all have made it on my list of Twelve. Did I miss out anybody worth featuring on my wall? Let me know.

Tunnel Ghost Busted

I had some friends over for dinner last weekend. What was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday dinner suddenly turned cold with fear. A friend, senior tunnel engineer, was flipping through his phone pictures when he suddenly spotted a picture of his worksite with ghost in the background, a whitish girl on the tunnel wall. His face turned white and mood subdued when he showed the picture to us.
I couldn't believe it. But the fear on my friend's face and the intensity with which he refused to accept any of my scientific explanations of possible manipulation of the picture soon gave me goosebumps. His phone doesn't have internet connection to download the picture from elsewhere and he was confident that it was the picture of his worksite and he took the shot himself.
He grew restless and paranoid. He sweared he will never enter the tunnel again. He recalled how his camera didn't work when he took picture of himself. He took out his phone from time to time and looked at the creepy picture, and worse made us look at it. After a while I could look at this picture no more. It was as if the girl would look at me anytime. I even asked him if there's some dirty bloody secret inside his tunnel that's now coming out in the form of spirit.

Rest of the evening went in talking about all sorts of ghost stories. And when the dinner was done one of my guests, the youngest among us, couldn't go home. He is also an engineer but not in tunnel. He doesn't have a family yet and all his roommates were not home that night. He easily accepted my offer to sleep on my couch. (Talking about critical blogger Dawa Knight, lol)

Look Closely, you don't wanna miss the ghost!

Next Day: (I heard) The senior engineer friend freaked everybody outside the tunnel at his worksite. He approached his boss with the picture and it had the same effect on them as well. Their office gathered all IT experts to study the picture, and finally they could disintegrate the picture of the girl from the picture of the tunnel it was photoshopped to. They also managed to photoshop it onto the tunnel of other site and post it to them.

The question remains: It was a flawlessly done photoshop work, who did it? how it came to his phone? Why would anyone do it? The answer same from his wife who spent the next day investigating the same. She found out their kids have played with a camera app called Camera360 which has many options which includes Ghost Mode. Ha ha ha kids can scare the hell outta adults with technology.

The Youngest Bhutanese Blogger

How young do you think will be the age of the youngest Bhutanese Blogger?
Would you believe if I told you he is a 10 year old boy in Thimphu? Well you have to.
Singye Namgay is the youngest blogger I know in Bhutan and perhaps the most unbelievable. At his age I couldn't write a sentence in English correctly and this boy is reviewing books, movies, TV series ... with utmost spontaneity and brutal innocence.
Reading his article is like listening to an adult native English speaker, with soothing transacting from sentence to another and not to mention his great vocabularies, some of which aren't yet in my dictionary. Everytime I open his blog (www.singye.bt) I get goosebumps and I can't help wonder what substance this little soul is made of.
Let me not reduce his worth with my words, his own words will show you his true worth. Visit his blog by following the link above or by clicking on the picture below, and remember I am not responsible for what happens to you on his blog ;)

Singye's Blog 

Because My Parents Are Divorced...

Once upon our time divorce was a strange word, and we were made to believe that stepparents are always evil. Interestingly I grew up with my stepfather who proved my beliefs wrong. As a child I waited for him to treat me bad so that I could challenge him and run away from home. I was 21 when he died. I thought I cried enough but I was wrong. Often during my sleepless nights I miss him, in fact I could never overcome the tragedy of his death. A part of me was broken forever.

Not all marriages are made in heaven, some people are never meant to be together, and divorce is not everybody's first choice but there comes a point in relationship where all all logical reasoning ends, where the best chance is to stay away from each other. Lucky are the people who could choose their separation this way, unlike my mother who was separated from my father and even my stepfather by the unforgiving hands of death.

Psychologists say that children from broken families are vulnerable to many social problems, and it's mostly true. Some children change overnight and some bury the pain inside until it snaps. But some children selflessly become part of the happiness that their parents gradually find outside of their irreparable marriage. Sometimes it's good for children to live with happily separated parents than to bear with unhappily married parents, who fight every night.

As a teacher I am witness to so many problems related to children in school and being in School Human Resource committee (discipline committee renamed) I had the opportunity to get to the depth of many issues. We have been very sensitive in dealing with children when they appear before us and before we decide on anything we do a thorough background check on them. But recently a new trend of blaming parents' separation as the cause of their mischief has become popular, probably it could could be because of their initial success with the excuse.

• A boy bunking classes, says he is doing this because his parents are divorced.
• A girl caught smoking during the lunch break says, she is smoking because her parents are divorced.
• Boys caught smoking marijuana in the school dustbin tell they are doing this because their parent are divorced.
• Girl who ran away from home with her lover says parents are divorced.
• Boy who breaks class window with his punch says he misses his father because he stays with his mother. They are divorced.
• Girl who drinks during the weekend and found sleeping on the road say she is depressed because of her parents separation.

All the above examples are not real but do have connection to real incidences compiled from different times and places.

With due regard and sympathy for the children who are really suffering, I would like to urge those children who break rules to be honest enough to accept the outcome of your misdeed on to yourselves rather than shamelessly dragging your parents along to take the blame of your selfish behaviours. Know that there are millions of children around the world without parents, without home and without food, and consider yourself very lucky that you have both parents. When you don't appreciate the enormous luck god gives you now and make mockery of it, you may have to live without it someday.

And remember you have to become parents one day...

Malala is 16 and Special, so are you

Malala Yousafzai is a girl born among guns and bombs, grew up with fear and finally became enemy to world's worst terrorist group: Taliban. She was 14 when she began her war for education for girls in Pakistan, took several bullets in her head yet she fights for education.

16-Year-Old Malala Yousafzai Leaves Jon Stewart Speechless

Our children are born in peace, brought up in peace, education is given as right and yet some do not understand the true worth of school. Teachers give endless speeches, parents give all they have and our country is trying desperately and children blame the world for their problems, which they sort themselves.

What's going through Malala's head and what is going through our children's head? Malala is just 16, in case you think you are too young to think about yourself. You may think Malala is special, god's special child, so you are. You must stop blaming everything and anything, leave behind lame excuses and make yourself useful.

Watch Malala speak in this video and reflect on your age and on your attitude to life and education.

The Cold Holy Bath

We went on a dry picnic yesterday to Punakha. But of all the days yesterday wasn't a day to joke with the idea of remaining dry in all senses. We took a potable swimming pool for kids to enjoy their holy bath but seriously I didn't expect the pool to take three fathers and 70 buckets of water from Puna Mo Chhu to fill it up.

Our plan was to leave the pool in the sun to warm up before letting the kids in but they won't understand the kindness behind our unkindness. They got into it even before we could fill it up.They had no idea that the river just came from the glaciers and it's ice cold even when it flows down warm valley of Punakha.

The cold water however couldn't stop them. They played in it until they turned pale and their jaws froze. But they still hated the idea of getting out of it. So we have to force dump the water out of the pool before kids suffered hyperthermia in the name of holy bath. The conclusion was two angry kids. They had the thruelbub of their life time.

Three Fathers, 70 Buckets filled this pool

Ninzi and Bobo

Bobo turned pale with cold

And of course we parents had ours best watching them with temptations to jump in with them. At this age it lot more fun to jump in glass than in swimming pool. We parents had our share of stolen moments of romance.

The Thruelbub Moment of Romance ;)

NOTE: If you are in Thimphu Tomorrow Evening (Monday, 23rd Sept.2013) Please care to turn up for Blogger Meet. Place and time will be confirmed on Blogyul Facebook Page.

Gawa- The Story of the Fatherless

Bhutanese movies are usually lavish in length and miser in depth with occasional bollywood cliché. One prominent movie director once told me that anything other than that would not sale in Bhutanese cinema. Perhaps he is right because despite the odds he survived as the most successful director in Bhutan.

"Gawa- The Other Side of the Moon" chose to be different because it has a serious story to tell beyond commercial milage. It was inspired by a true story and it has a mission to inspire true stories.

I won't share the whole story here because I expect you to watch it for yourself because it has a story to tell to each one of us. It throws light on the dark side of the nightly rural courtship culture that men engage in for pleasure. And often it's the urban visitors who destroy the lives of innocent women in villages with their empty promises.

The movie portrays a girl, born out of gang rape and abandoned by her broken mother, in search of her identity and hers is the story lived by many children in our country. These children not only grow without their 'father' but also have to face the humiliation of being born that way. The most heartbreaking point in these children's lives is when they are denied civil registration just because they don't have fathers.

The movies has the potential to change the new generation of men, educate the young women, give hope and dignity to the victims and scorn the men who were responsible. At best it should remove the social stigma against victims and bring about the realization that if there is anybody who should be blamed and who should be scorned it's the men and not the betrayed women or the faultless children born out of it.

I wish this movie goes to my village Yangthang in Haa because there we have many fatherless children who need support to live with dignity, women who must understand their legal rights and know that it wasn't their fault, young women who must be educated, young men who must be changed and some disgraceful men who must be scorned and brought to justices because so far they are proud like a mating bull.

My father passed away when I was a baby and I used to think the same happened with my best friend's father. I used to ask about his father and he would ignore my question and turn away. One day he disclosed his father to me and perhaps he must have regretted later because I laughed so hard. I laughed because I couldn't believe someone else's father could be his father. The man he called his father was the richest man in my village but he was in rag just like me. Much later I learned that he was registered as his brother in-law's son in the census. My friend died three years ago from excessive drinking and in his short lifetime his father refused to accept him, though he looked like a photocopy of the man. I heard the rich man paid the cremation expenses of his denounced son, as if he waited for this very day to extend a helping hand.

The fate of my dead friend is shared by over 25 other children from 15 mothers in my village as far as I can remember and everybody in the village knows who their fathers are including the children themselves. People are open about this and women aren't scorned like in other societies but there is no culture of these fathers helping in raising the children. Some father wouldn't even spare a photocopy of their ID card for the registration of their children yet women take it silently.
In a small village of 50 households we are all somehow related to each other, and by disclosing this story I may become enemy of many but I am ready to face it for the sake of justice for the victims

'Gawa-The Other Side of the Moon' ends in poetic justice where the three men are brought to justice in the most satisfying way and much like the movie does its executive producer RENEW shares about having identified 770 children who received help in registration and in going to school. I hope children in my village are among the 770 who found the means to live better by the grace of Ashi Sangay Choden Wangchuk, the president of RENEW.

Movie Poster

The movie is certified to be screened in all schools across the country for educational purpose and viewers can make voluntary contribution. The proceeds from the screening will go into educating these children.

PP Teacher Forever

My Aunty, Madam Lhaday, is over 90 kg and does little or no physical exercise but what keeps her healthy is her job. She teaches Class PP in Dechencholing. She has been teaching Class PP for last 30 years. Some of her PP students are now principals, directors, senior officers,... Today she is teaching children and also grandchildren of her once PP students. Her hair has turned grey but nothing has changed in the way she teaches and deals with children... Watch the video to see what I mean:

My Lost Turtle, The Free Turtle

When something wrong is going to happen you feel the energy from the first hour but because we are just human we can comprehend it only after it has happened. This morning I was up by 6:30 AM, something very strange for someone who sleeps at 3AM, and then by 7:30 AM I sneaked out of home with our pet turtle. I was like a little boy, wanting to let my turtle play in the Blue Pond which my class created in the school.

The Pond

The little creature lost its friend last year and had been alone in the aquarium so far. If he could talk he would have asked us to set him free rather than being alone among colorful stones in glass confinement. I took him out once and promised to take him once the pond is done. Yesterday I changed the water and cleaned the pond to welcome him there. kezang hates my rashness, therefore I ran out when she was still in bed.
The turtle in the Pond was an instant hit, there were students who never saw one in real before and there were teachers who knew everything about it but yet to see one outside TV. Excited kids wanted to touch it, feel its hardness, see it react, throw pebbles at it when I wasn't looking. I said nothing, I wanted them to experience it. There was crowd after crowd around the pond when I left for class.

During the First Outing

I finished my class with VIII C and rush back to the Pond to find no one around, and my dear turtle gone. The boy who was supposed to look after it has gone to his class too. I searched for my turtle everywhere around the pond and soon called off the search hoping the boy would have kept it somewhere safe.
The boy came to me asking where the turtle is, and perhaps he saw the color change on my face. Soon it was toilet break and dozens of students came to see the turtle but the poor thing was lost. Everybody helped in the search operation. There was no clue about what happened to the turtle, given it's speed it couldn't have ran so far from our reach, its hard shell would have protected it from birds and dogs, what else could have happened?
I couldn't go for lunch, because I was answerable to Kezang who has invested so much of herself to the little animal- from feeding to cleaning. It was her companion when I am in school. I snatched it away from her.
But looking at it from the other side, turtles, or for that matter any animal, are not meant to be kept in glass confinement, there are born free and deserve to be free. We humans exercise our supremacy over all species; eating what can be eaten, taming what can be tamed, and imprisoning beautiful creature for life by giving them a sweet name called 'Pet'. My lost turtle is finally liberated, hope it didn't land up with someone else to be confined in glass box again, hope it didn't land up in a dog's mouth to be crushed to death, I only pray that it finds its way to the river to be washed down to where it belongs, where he will find his kind, to play to mate and to reproduce his genes. Bye little one, farewell.

Lesson: I shouldn't be rash, must fence the Pond before I bring in the fishes and other aquatic lives I could get.

Little Boy-The Victim of Fails

Kezang went to hospital this morning and was calling me and telling in deep anxious voice that my friend's child was hospitalized. I had heard the news of a young boy being attacked by pack of stray dogs in Khotokha about a week ago. The boy had gone beyond the fence to play when the pack of dogs attacked him. He was rescued by a monk who was passing by. And that boy happens to be my friend Damchoe's three year old son, who is now nursed back to health at Bajothang Hospital. It took 84 stitches on his head, back and arms to close his wounds. The boy is doing well now.

The repaired scalp 

The Dog Issue:

However, it's time we pay serious attention to stray dogs. Some half hearted dog rehabilitation attempts have separated dogs from human population and now many dog-compounds are shut down. Homeless and hungry the abandoned dogs are now roaming forest and villages attacking cattles. And this year alone we have reports of two incidences where humans were attacked- one was in Haa last months and the other my friend's boy. What measures can be taken to reduce the risk of dogs attacking humans? Who should be taking care of this issue? How long should we wait until we start taking action?

Drug Shortage Issue:

Another problem that surfaced today was the shortage of Anti Rabies Vaccine (ARV), which is a must take vaccine for dog bitten victims. Even a smallest wound from dog bite requires this injection and in this case the little boy was bitten by around seven dogs and literally peeled off from head to back. Unfortunately ARV ran out of stock. Tencholing didn't have it, Thimphu only has enough for their patients and was waiting for the new stock to arrive in two weeks. My friends was asked to find it on his own. Medical Shops are handicapped by new policy. 

It was boy's luck that Punakha Hospital had some doses left. He was taken to Punakha for the first dose but there is no guarantee if there will be any left when he goes for the second dose, which is on 17th May. I took the issue to Twitter and I was inspired by the support and concern shown by fellow Bhutanese. Some even offered to send from Delhi and another from Gelephug. Thank you to all the people who answered to my tweets this morning.

In such time we must awake to the reality that something in the system is not going good. Such emergency medications should be readily available in every corner of the country. I am hopeful this concern will be considered seriously by whoever is responsible. And if it's very difficult to pave through tedious Bhutanese procedures then why not allow private pharmacies to sell them?

Teachers Day in Bhutan- The Day to Reflect

It might sound quite theoretical when I say Teachers Day is the day of reflection but I have realized that only on this day I get the right emotion to stop and ask myself if I am a good teacher. And I have worked on trying to carry the resolutions I made on Teachers Day to the rest of the days. Every year I am find myself smiling with lesser guilt, that I don't have to pretend to be a nice teacher on the day when students present me with gift, rather happily be the friendly teacher that my students have always enjoyed being with.
People are right about not having the high performers from schools and colleges in teaching profession, being an average intelligent student and below average performer I used to be worried but now when I look far back and remember the teachers that made impressions in my life I realize that teaching is not all about big brains, because I only remember the kind ones, the funny ones, the caring ones, the impartial ones, the truthful ones and the principled ones.
When we were young we would proudly talk about the teacher who wear different dresses on different days, teacher who could kick the football highest, teacher who could slap us to unconsciousness , teacher who could remember the whole dictionary, teacher who could remember every line in the textbook, teacher who could break 50 willow sticks on your butt... but these are not the teacher who make lasting impression on our lives.

Parents and Teachers on the Stage

I have suffered so much in the hands of brutal teachers and I suffered more because of where I came from and how I looked, but because that couldn't break me down it only made me the sensitive teacher I am today. I know when it hurts most and where it hurt worst, I know how it feels like to be treated this way and that way... I see hundreds of myself seeking love among the lucky many, I know how to make them feel nice about themselves because I also met some great teachers in life who made me feel good about myself.
So these are the types of reflective emotion I go through on such auspicious days and I don't leave this emotion here, it's another new beginning to cast away guilt and earn personal satisfaction on professional journey.  

2013 Teachers Day Cake in Bajothang

Today, Bajothang celebrated Teachers Day along with School Sports Day, making to fun for both teachers and Students. They had a cake and it seemed like a birthday party for all the teachers. The stage was set right in the middle of football ground, we have to walk there to receive gifts from students- I ran away before my name was called and I landed up missing the cake as well.

Gift!