It's not every day that I receive a mail from a reader who loved my book or otherwise. There are not many readers, and not many readers take their time out to write a review or a mail. That's why when I do get a message, I really treasure it.
Following is a heartwarming email from a young girl who finished reading my book in two days. It goes to show that she really enjoyed it. From a short mail, I can make out that she is quite a reader, and for her to like my book is a significant compliment.
Besides that, the timing is important to me. It's been over four years since my book was published, and all the hype is gone with the wind, yet for someone to read my book a and write to me makes me
Dear Author,
This might be an odd way of expressing my appreciation, but I couldn't find a better way of connecting with you. (I preferred email for my lengthy message )
I must say, you are really an inspiring figure for youths in our country. I have heard a lot about you and your contributions to Bhutanese society from others. Still, to really be honest, I never actually knew who you were. Perhaps I never tried to discover the works you have done, or I haven't read any piece of your collection yet.
Just recently, I finished reading your book "PasSu Diary", which I got as a recognition prize during the reading week in my school. I am not a bookworm, but I do enjoy reading. However, I hardly read a book till the end as my interest in reading truly depends on how the writer expresses each line. This might sound weird, but it has been my style ever since I was a kid.
The moment I read the first lines of your book, it just gravitated my soul towards the next page and so on. Trust me, I was done reading your book just in two days. Reading your book was like getting an opportunity to be part of all the events in flashback. Your writings also give a sense of pride and a raw perception of being a Bhutanese. The sentences in each chapter boosted my thinking capacity. No other prize could have been better than this book.
As I went on learning about you, I discovered that besides writing, you had been a social activist in various fields, and above all, you are someone that youths can look up to. Your writings have motivated me to become a passionate reader and a responsible citizen.
Dear Thrompon Kinley Dorji, Thimphu, I have very high regards for you. You have been the biggest and the nicest surprise we had out of the voting machine. I applauded you every time I saw you on TV; for your work, you honesty, your fairness and your fearlessness. But this time I am thoroughly disappointed with you. I want to ask you, what’s the worth of a poor man’s life in your city, Thimphu? The way you handled the death of your 63-year-old employee was very insensitive as the employer. He died in the line of duty and it was your duty to give him an honorable funeral and compensate his family as per the company policy. But you have reduced his life’s worth to Nu.40,000 that’s not even worth the smart phone in your hand. You have left the rest to the fate of the case against the building owner who is busy blaming the ambulance. Amidst this shameless and endless blame game the sentiments of the poor family is sidelined. The family’s sole bread earner is gone, widow is in her sixties who now has to look after several children, some of whom are disabled. The family is not even worried about car or phone, they are running out on food supplies. Why should the family suffer for so long? The family needs support now and the company compensation should have reached them already. You as their leader should have at least managed to comfort the family with normal compensation. The building owner who built that burial wall should be held responsible for death of a public servant on duty due to their negligence. This case should be fought with all your might and come out with a landmark victory that will pave way for all Bhutanese to understand their right and to respect other’s right, regardless of social status. Whatever you can draw out from them can be paid to the bereaved family as additional compensation. Yes, additional compensation, the real compensation should not depend on this.
And if the wall owner thinks Nu.200,000 is huge and wants to keep blaming the hospital for not sending a health worker along with the driver, then they should perhaps read the story of a widow who won a $23.6 Billion Lawsuit against tobacco company R.J. Reynolds. In this case, her husband died of lung cancer and not killed by their company truck. Personally, today on father's day I miss my father who was killed in a bus accident. The bus company should have been responsible, the driver should have been responsible, or the house owner who kept debris on the narrow road should have been responsible but only my father paid the price. My family alone suffered. This should not happen to anyone at this time and age. So, dear Thrompon please pay the compensation first and then pursue the case with the wall owner. In your city even a pet dog gets more respect, he was a human being, he worked for the city, don’t let this happen. Still Very Respectfully Yours PaSsu
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.
Dear Kinley Dorji, Thinley Jamtsho, Pema Dorji, Tenzin Jamtsho, Nim Dorji, Tashi Dorji, Purni Maya, and Karma Dema, (See in picture)
I hope all eight of you received the message I passed around on 18 December. It was about your winter IT assignment. I wanted to meet you personally to discuss this topic for your winter assignment but by the time I knew some of you were long gone after taking your results.
The topic is not quite from your syllabus but by now you must have realized it too that your Computer Studies syllabus is highly traditional, and unsuitable for our age and time. Therefore, I want you to create a personal blog each and keep record of your winter activities in it. Your blog is the first thing I wish to see when you rejoin the school next year in XII.
Where is Pema Dorji? 2011 XI IT Students!
I don't know if you have read this news report: "Computer students unable to find jobs in Bhutan" in The Bhutanese newspaper last week(?) but I wasn't surprised at all. I only hope you are not discouraged.
You just slept. It took a long time, you were feeling strange, I know, it's your first day without milk in your entire life. But we could see you were trying so hard, you already finished over five bottles of orange juice by the time you closed your eyes. Thank you babe, for being such a nice girl today. You have always been so cooperative when it came to taking big steps in your life like the toilet training last week. We sat you on the potty one time and the next time you asked for it. These for many other kids proved to be very difficult and often painful but you are special.
My Daughter's Recent Picture
There are 14 days left for your second birthday, which is when we had planned to quit breastfeeding you but today out of the blue your mummy excitedly shared with me what she has done to you in my absence- she applied soya sauce over her nipple and showed to you saying it's so painful. You looked at her with worried expression and asked her to cover it up. You then asked for bottle. By the time I came home for lunch you have already passed six hours test without milk. By then you were resolute, you were saying No even when you mummy teasingly tempted you.
Darling, we are very sorry to have done this on to you but you must understand that this has to be done one day or the other and it is always better to be done earlier. We were with you undergoing the same pain every minute today, trying to comfort you each time you were frustrated.
Babe, you have to know that you are the only lucky baby in whole of locality who had the luxury to suckling for entire first six months of your life without mixing with a drop of water. Your mother was very insistent on doing this so that you live a very healthy life.
You are the storeroom of million surprises babe, for the last one month you constructed many sentences and even had your four new teeth. You have shown craze for technology, which I think I should control and of all the thing today you surprise us by being so nice, which we thought would be very difficult. Now you have climbed one stage up in your life, and thank you for making it so easy for us. Love you.
(This is in reply to National Development Minister Khaw Boon Wan of Singapore on his comments made on our country )
Dear Mr. Khaw,
I was not surprised when you said Bhutan is not the last Shangri-la on Earth, because I had a friend from your country who found Bhutan only "full of mountains and valleys". When you visited Bhutan, what did you expect? Those flying mountains you saw in Avatar? or Every Bhutanese merrily dancing in designer clothes? Well, you must have at least expected fancier cars and taller buildings but we only have taller mountains (not flying ones) and thicker forest (truly natural).
I am not surprised even when you said "Most of the time, I saw unhappy people, toiling in the field, worried about the next harvest and whether there would be buyers for their products." because I heard a proverb in school that goes, "Two men looked through the prison window, one saw the mud and other saw the horizon". I am only surprised that you have spend "Most of your time" in Bhutan looking in the fields. I am amazed at your ability to figure out whether the people are happy or unhappy just by looking at them- O' you even knew they were "worried about the next harvest". No wonder you country export human resources.
The Man who didn't find happiness in Bhutan. Source:channelnewsasia
I visited your wonderful country sometime ago, and it felt like a city from the future. The transportation system held me spell bound, Cleanliness of the street is so much that I didn't find a fragment of dust on my shoes after walking for the hours, Every building and car looks new, and there is no question about the civic sense among the people. Four days after I landed in Bhutan I woke up and started sharing the stories of your wonderful country- yes it took me four days of sleeping to shake of the hangover of many sleepless nights in your 24X7 country. I read the amazing history of your country and thought to myself, if Bhutan's to develop, Singapore can be our vision.
But since you questioned the presence of happiness in Bhutan, let me answer by telling you few things that you overlooked when you visited my country. Those people you saw in the fields weren't unhappy, if you have gone closer you would have heard them singing and enjoying the social lives, perhaps you won't understand that. If you have spent a little longer time watching them, you would have seen and a woman with basket on her back and holding arms with several children coming with steaming food- we don't have McDonald or KFC. Then everybody will sit down to eat their lunch, laughing and joking, feeding babies, for over an hour- you wouldn't have had so much time to sit and watch I know, times means money in your country. But we have luxury of time. People don't worry "about the next harvest and whether there would be buyers for their products." In fact, we don't do much commercial farming, we do most of them to keep with the tradition. And when the sun sets, doesn't really matter what time, people leave for their homes where they have a large family waiting. Large family because we don't chase away our children when they become 18 or children cast away their parents when they age.
We don't need Health Insurance to survive, nor have to go for Education Loan for educating our children. We don't hang the drug users, we counsel them to hang on to their lives, we don't have to have a job to survive, and when we fall sick even the furthest cousin comes to attend without having to update Facebook status.
If you reread our history you will find that our wise kings have hidden us from the outside world so that we could remain the way we are today. If we start mining our mountains and lumbering our forests, we can become Singapore but no matter what you do you can never become Bhutan. It is far too difficult. We shall be the last breath of oxygen on earth.
Bhutan may not be the Last Shangri-la but we are happy.
Wangay is a teacher in Phuntshothang Middle Secondary School, Samdrup Jongkhar. I don't know him but his letter (see the picture) published in Bhutan Observer yesterday connected to me. He had to come to school to attend to his duty leaving behind his grieving wife whose mother passed away. In times of sickness and death even enemies join in to give helping hand but because he was a working man who ran out of allotted leave, he failed so much as a husband.
When I was in my first year of college my father passed away. My sister was one year senior to me in the same college. Two of us cried our long journey home. I cried more when I thought of how my mother would be, and cried even more thinking about our three younger siblings. Our youngest sister was only three then. When I reached home I rushed to see my mother, why has already cried herself to unconsciousness. My little sister was among the villagers trying to revive my mother, she wouldn't know what had happened. She would say her father has gone to collect firewood. My youngest brother was on his way back from school and hadn't yet known his father was dead. My other younger brother was strongly waiting for us, since he was the eldest when we were not there.
All our close relatives living in Thimphu provided us with all the money we need to preform the funeral rites, but when it comes to being by my mother's side they weren't there for even a single night. We children were the only people surrounding the widow. And the most ugliest, most regretful and the most inhumane part of that story was our early return to college. The two eldest children left their mother on the seventh day because of our unforgiving attendance system in college. If we didn't have the required attendance we wouldn't be allowed to sit for exams no matter what. Even today, it pains me so much when I think of that system, and my biggest regret is the choice I made- I chose too leave my broken mother for a damn college.
This is my story among thousands of your stories. Of all the times in life shouldn't we be given a special leave when something like these happen? These are life changing moment that don't happen often. And with Wangay, I wish to urge the government to think over it. It's should matter if it isn't in American system, Bhutan is the first country that should welcome "bereaved leave". Please.
I have been thinking of the divine relationship between
parents and children for quite sometime, even before I became a father. And it occurred
to me that children are innocently selfish. Every child expects the whole world
to revolve around him, and parents make sure that it does. Parents place their
hearts in every selfish achievement of their children.
I am mentioning this to you at this time of the year to
remind you that it about time to give your parents a gift. Not that sort of a
gift where you take money from your parents to buy them one, but something that
you have achieved on your own- your exam result.
I don’t know if you would rejoice the pride of your father
who comes home with the news of him being appreciated by his boss, or joy of
your mother who met her childhood friend after fifteen years (because kids only
find joy in things that matter to them), but I can assure you that both your
parents will be the happiest if you walk home with your mark sheet filled with
very good marks. They will pass your mark sheet to each other for countless
times as if it’s a million Ngultrum
check. They will talk about your result to anybody who visits your home, and
then they will tour their friends’ homes to talk more about it.
If you realize it there is nothing in there to talk so much
about (you spent last six months in school just for that)- your marks no matter
how high won’t help them pay their house rent, not even the water bill. Your marks
help no one other than you yet it brings happiness to your parents, which only
means how easy it is to please your parents. Just reflect on how much your
parents put in to please you each day ever since you were born, and ask
yourselves if you were ever perfectly happy. The answer will most probably be
No, and this indicates how hard it is to please you, despite all their sweat
and blood. And there you are, just having to bring in a good mark sheet and
your parents are flattered.
Knowing this is as simple as this; will you still deprive
your parents of a gift this summer?
I don't smoke but I am still concerned. Tobacco Act does not go well with our country's image. And most importantly it doesn't represent the will of people, which it should have. Everybody is talking about it now and many are swearing on the government. But I wonder who is more concern about Bhutan than our Prime Minister. He sounded upset about the Facebook group and many comments people made, and he has the right to be. What he wants is not silence but the right approach. He wants people to talk to their representatives. While it is possible to do that, it could be difficult to reach them.
Here is a easier way out! Sign the online Petition: Repeal the Tobacco Act. Read the letter, and if you agree then give your name and email address and click on sign. Comment is not necessary but if you have something to say make it formal and decent since it is going to be submitted to the government. This is the right and peaceful way and there is nothing to worry about.
Have you heard of Dawakha Pry School? It is in Paro by geography but it could be easily misunderstood for a place in Ha because it falls between Chunzom and Ha. It was a great location for a war movie or horror movie but people chose to construct a school there. Worse, my guardians sent me there. Much later in life I realized that I was sent there on punishment. What was my crime? It is sad to share with you that my crime was nothing more than occupying space in the room and emptying pots in the kitchen. I was rustic, ugly and born to poor mother but I have never demanded for new clothes, not for food my cousins had or for a brighter room than the store I was put in. yes, I confess I hated cleaning their pets shit every time I came home. I was eight yet washed my own clothes and bought my own shoes from money I saved in beer bottles. I washed dishes for them carried water from the well. I still remember how heavy that well bucket was. I didn't deserve to be sent to Dawakha.
As if I didn't have enough already Dawakha was full of hateful people. Captains didn't have to have reason to make us naked and peel our skin, the head master would tie us naked on the volleyball post where the girl could see, and teachers were very choosy about the sticks they use. I don't remember a day I didn't cry in Dawakha. Headmaster was so fond of using WFP supplied Oak hammer to knock us down- it only takes a few minutes to regain consciousness but it takes days to heal the swell, of course it never healed until I passed out from there because before the first one could subside we would be blessed with next. Of all the people there I remember Lopen Dawa fondly for being kind enough to use flat planks which gave louder sound than pain. In his eyes I saw mercy.
Today when I remember the hostel I can only relate it to Nazi Concentration Camp. Thirty students were squeezed into a room, where our beds are made on muddy floor. There were lice on every fiber of our cloth and smell of urine even in our plates. But my biggest pain was hunger. School had WFP supply but I don't know why they couldn't feed us enough, I would be dead if not for the peaches and apples we had in stock from our labor during the weekends. Headmaster's chickens had better amount than us. There were times we were fed only ata boiled in water and worse two small potatoes per meal.
That was the school I studied in and when I look at you today I find no reason why you can't study. You are lucky, the only person who can cause you pain is you. Be kind to yourself and gift yourself a good life.
This is my first letter to you and I want you to know I will be writing to you often over the years. I have many things to tell you but we hardly get time to sit down and talk in school, more over I don't meet many of you at all. I love writing letters but I can't remember when I wrote my last letter; after email and mobile came in I found it cheaper to talk and chat then to spend in stamps.
However I have written enough letters in my life that even if I can't write anymore I have the right to forgive myself. I have made friends across the country through letters, I have kept my friendship alive through letters, I kept my parents informed through letters, and most funnily I wrote to many of my fortunate relatives asking for some clothes, a pair of shoe, or a few hundred Ngultrum, guess what! they were the only people who weren't impressed with my letters. At the end of the day when I do maths I would wish if I had kept the money I had instead of wasting them in stamps and envelops. I would write again though, like gambling, to recover my loss only to lose more.
Over eight years passed since I posted my last letter...and today I finally decided I will write letters again, and this time I will write to you, telling stories from my life, my childhood and my high school to let you all know how lucky you all are today.
This letter is just an introduction and therefore I will not talk on anything. I am just happy that I don't have to find an envelop or buy a stamp. I know you may never read this but I am satisfied that I wrote it.
I am a teacher myself and I quite understand your life in school, therefore I grant you the permission to whip my son when required; the law forbidding that is devised by people residing out of school, so ignore it.
Thrash him if he is not serious about his studies when you tell him politely, thrash him if he doesn’t bring his home work on time repeatedly, thrash him if he tries to cheat on you in anyways, and thrash him if he breaks school rules intentionally, but forgive him after that, give him chance to improve.
Like any other parents I will blame you if he fails in your subject but unlike them I will acknowledge you more if he does well. He is your responsibility. He is an intelligent child in search of an inspirational teacher and I hope you will give him the wings.
He has a dream of his own and I urge you not to force your dream onto him, let him understand his dream and let him find his way.
I love my child and I don’t want you to hate him. Tell me in advance if you hate him so that I could change his class for I can’t change the attitude of hateful teacher. While I permit you to beat him I also want you to have objectives attached with each spank and let it not miss on to his vital organs.
And most importantly, don’t not touch my child in anger, for anger is unreasonable and I don’t want my child beaten by a fool, in such case I can be worse.
This very team walking out today has given Bhutan Times its wings. Who could love the paper more than them? Not at least a man who joined just some days ago. It is a big story now. Of all Business Bhutan must find it ironic to see how their entrance has coincided with an almost-exit of BT. Anyway they got a hot news to print on a cold autumn morning.
I waited outside the shop that sells BT to see if there would be an issue last Sunday. I was playing with a strange probability in my mind; if there is the issue this week then it shall be a history, if there isn’t then it shall really be a history.
The opposition leader Tshering Tobgay is more excited than judgmental about the issue in his blog, “Volume III, Issue 50 of the Bhutan Times could hit the newsstands on 25 October 2009. If it does, treasure it. That issue could mean that private media is much more vibrant than we realize. And that fact is worth celebrating, regardless of who is right – journalists or management.”
The second page is full of scanned copies of letters; from employees to the company, from BICMA to company, from CEO to BICMA. The one letter that caught my tail is Wangcha Sangay writing back to BICMA; I (Mr.) Passang Tshering of Haa Yangthang is thoroughly surprised by the degree of confidence and aggression of (Mr.) Sangey of Haa Wangcha. There is no doubt that this senior citizen of 57 (with a track record of proven capabilities and established credentials- look who is saying this) will rescue the company (from what?). However the letter is anything but official. He condemns the move of the team as “shameful” and BICMA’s interference as “threat”. Many lines are as if directly translated from a furious villager’s tongue.
The news is everywhere; criticism is blown in the wind. Everybody is talking about how bad it was of the seven people to walk out on their company when it needed them so much. They are of the opinion that they left the company because the company is broke. There are plenty of stories from one side and from the other we have just this phrase “editorial interference by management”. What does it mean? What went wrong inside their office that made these seven people give up their jobs? There must be something bigger than a-cup-of-free-tea wrong and nobody is daring enough to speak it up.
As I read this blog “WE ARE NO WRITERS...” there seems to be a matter connected to that solidarity walk, which gave many oldies the fever of their lives, “It seems like some people have never come to terms with the ‘solidarity walk’. They dig shit. The stink returns. If there is any political reason to it…“ However I am far from understanding anything related to this but my concern is rather than condemning these seven people without even listening to their story, we should urge to know what they really meant by “editorial interference by management”? Thimphu is short of jobs, still why did they have to leave theirs, if not for a big reason? For the good of democracy we the normal citizens demand to know the fact of the matter.
25th October Issue of Bhutan Times must have sold the most, for everybody wanted to know what would be in it. Not so bad as we feared. There are many new names of which “Sangey of Ha Wangcha” out stood all the other, not in the style of writing but in the style of writing the name.
When I come home today I wish to find the door latched from inside, because when I ring the doorbell I wish to see you open the door for me with a smile. I don’t mind even if you come rubbing sleep of your eyes.
Everyday I walk in without your notice and you even don’t care when I have come. Sometimes I disgust you when I walk into our room disturbing your sweet nap with my strong footfall. Yet upon waking, you pull your blanket still further and sleep for little longer. I have just begun my marriage and expect grander romance out of it, if not as much as I saw in “Message in the Bottle” or read in “Note Book”. I am beginning to feel like an old man already.
Sometimes I walk in with dust on my shoes, you have no idea how I try to be careful about this but somehow it keeps slipping my mind, and that spoils your mood altogether. Sorry won’t work on you, so I even give my hand in cleaning it but your mood never seems to come back. Thus a dust on my shoe ruins a family’s evening. Evening after evening for silly matters like a “dust on my shoe” as long as sorry doesn’t work...
There are many other important things that I keep forgetting. Forgetting has become a part of me now, I don’t like it myself either. I want to remember everything in their finest detail but what to do my mind is overloaded with matters of four different subjects of six different classes with 200 different students each day from morning to evening in the school. That’s just one of ten parts of work I do in the school. So forgive me if I forget things, I promise I will no more forget our car in the school and come home walking. Please accept that I am imperfect just as anybody.
In all my waking moments I let the fibers of my life dance to the flute of your will, but forgive me if the dance sometimes is not perfect. Don’t let it kindle the flame of your anger that may burn down our home. In rage you throw and break things, which I forgive you but god may not, we may repair or replace the broken things but we cannot buy back the luck you smashed with some cherished things.
Yet at the end of it all, when the calm befalls the fury I forgive you and that’s when I wish if you could accept my imperfection just as I agree with yours.
We are unfortunate no more, we can celebrate birthdays now. There were times we thought birthday celebration was a luxury. I didn't even know my birthday until I was in high school; I did some maths then and found it out approximately. I have been in many of our cousins' birthday parties envying the lavish expenses and the gifts, but my birthday was often forgotten. I was never wished nor gifted on my birthday, which made me cry on every birthday I let go in hostels.
Today is your birthday; probably you did some maths too. You used to tell me that your birthday falls on 15th August; anyway it doesn't matter when. It has to be a day in the year which reminds us that a year has passed by. You took sweets for your friends in school and as you give them, greetings will rain on you. That's when you will realize how important you are. In hostel, I would hardly have money but I made sure I save enough to purchase a packet of sweet just to get some friends to greet me, for no one would otherwise remember.
This is the first years in our lives we have been together for the whole year. Thus we are together on my birthday and yours too for the first time. This inspires me to write a few lines in my online diary hoping you would learn about it some day. There are many things about you that I share with my friends, which I want to write here knowing someday you would read like a piece of legend.
When you were born I was already eight and away from home. We were together only during the winters but to my surprise you could remember all the detail account from our childhood. You could remember many things from my childhood that I can't and that makes me feel that you have a better brain than mine.
You were a boy born with a stone in your hand. I wonder how you have done but so many neighbors came banging on our door because you have stoned their children. It is hard to keep track of you unless you cried. You roar when you cried drawing my attention and me. I have fought for you hundreds of times regardless of your faults.
But I still remember the day I fought a big guy who tossed me left and right, you were just about four and Samtey could be eight. When you knew I was losing you ran home crying with Samtey. By then I was crying too and still fighting with dozens of men watching in pleasure. I thought I was going to be killed if I don't run away, but my pride as a fighter held me back. Just then the two of you appeared, Samtey was with a kitchen knife and you were holding a spoon. The two of you were too tiny to scare him away but I felt so secure though I lost that fight.
Tenzin, people in our village hated you as much as they hated me. We have been naughty beyond limits and have been the don of playground in our own times, unlike Samtey who was good all along. During my reign of the playground I didn't cause damage to myself so much as you did to yourself during your rule. You fell from the veranda countless times, you fell from roof of the gate twice, and in both these incidents you bled so much causing lot of damage to your face. But the most damage was done when you jumped from one wall to another of a ruined house. You missed your step and hit your mouth on the other wall breaking four teeth along with the gum. We found two of your broken teeth from inside of your swollen lips. You looked very ugly and cute then. Your lips never regained it actual shape nor your tiny teeth. The four teeth in front were replaced by two big ugly teeth. That was no the end, I know you remember why your ring finger has that odd form; you have sliced it into two. After stitching the shape looked funny, I thought it would come back to normal with time but where? It really looks like a phallus.
Thank god you grew up so fast, a few more years and you would have distorted whole your physical form.
One thing that made me a better Acho is a story from our childhood too. You and Samten are home and I was away in hostel. When I return home on vacations two of you would always have something to give me, a new shirt or a sock or a pen that someone had given you. When I ask why you did not use them yourselves, you would say it doesn't matter to you in village and that I should have it since I go amidst new people in new places. I know how seldom we get to own new things in our childhood but two of you were always happy wearing the rags as long as I am well dressed. I still wonder how big a heart god has put into your tiny chests.
Now you are growing pimples and must be worried about it. It will disappear over time, don’t worry. But over time you have changed too; the hyperactive Tenzin is lost into a silent loner. I am worried you are missing the brighter side of boyhood. The intelligent Tenzin is lost into a careless and dull boy who gives excuses for failing in multiple subjects. I remember how you would solve mathematical problems from you finger tips and the smelly toes shown from you torn socks. Change is good but you have choices, be objective about the road you choose.
You quite well know me, I haven’t been the best of students either but I have always known my responsibility as brother and as a son. Though a young boy, I have seen appreciation in your eyes when I walked home with a TV set bought from my little apprentice salary, I have heard how you praised me to your friends when I brought how new sets of plates and mugs from my temporary job wages. Those were the times I struggled along with thousands in the job market; in such times people lose their nerve and do drugs and drink and try to be happy. But I always remembered you all at home and kept myself intact.
When people of my age were wasting their youth in drugs I was working in a construction of a bridge as a labor, and when they were still wasting their life I was choosing new clothes for you. Life paid me well for my dedication and now I am a teacher with a respectable life.
Now you are about that age and today on your birthday I am writing you this note just to let you know that you will never have to work for a construction site nor you should worry about buying any thing for home because I have made it all set. All you have to do now is to know that your life is a gift and prepare yourself enough to be capable of cherishing it. Make us proud by being the best that you are capable of. I will be the happiest man when I see you lead a comfortable life.
