Life is too Short to Wait for an Abusive Husband to Change

Yesterday by the time I reached home I was ready for a nap because it was a long day at the training centre followed by the long walk back home but I saw my neighbour has taken all their furniture out. I thought the young couple was moving out. Upon inquiry I found out that only the wife was moving out. It sent a chill down my spine because just there months ago I saw them happily moving in together.

She reported that she was assaulted many times, she was almost crying when she said, "Yesterday, he nearly killed me. I cried for help, didn't you hear me?" She showed her bruised body. We sincere apologised for being such a bad neighbour. We assumed that as a newly wed couple they would still be making love. Literally. We misunderstood those late night screams and banging on the wall.

My wife and I uncomfortably helped the wife load her stuff on the pickup along with the three individuals who were related to the young woman. And without a second thought we prepared refreshment for them. 

As I was serving them refreshment I couldn't help saying this to the wife, "We are sorry for not being there to celebrate your marriage but at least we are happy to be here helping you when you chose your freedom out of the abusive relationship." My wife signalled at me to shut up but I went on, "Why didn't you report to the police?" I just wanted the man to hear it. He was actually a good looking man who had a meek smile perpetually fixed on his lips, quite a contrast to his violent nature.

I didn't know who was right or who was wrong, I didn't even ask why they fought at all. The fact that the man has assaulted the woman broke my heart. Who the hell will protect her if the very man on her bed is assaulting her? I could never understand how one could abuse the very person one has chosen out of everybody on earth.

But I was throughly awed by the young woman's courage to walk out of the abusive relationship right away. I have known many women who hung onto their marriages hoping their men would change but the truth is if you don't walk out on the first slap you are just waiting for the next hundred slaps. It's normal to fight in relationships but violence should never be tolerated. Life is too short to wait for an abusive husband to change and it's too personal to worry about public opinions. 

Disclaimer: This post is based on an incident and therefore the focus is on husband being abusive but it can be the other way round too, though not discussed here. 

Following is a story from Miguelon Dell Call about a woman who hung on to her abusive husband. It's widely shared on Facebook.

She's got flowers!

It wasn't her birthday or any other special day.They had their first fight, and he said many cruel things that really hurt her.She knows that he is sorry and that he would not say those things again, because he sent her flowers.

She received flowers again!It was not for their anniversary or any other special day.Last night, he pushed her against a wall and started to choke her.It seemed like a nightmare, she couldn't believe it was real.
When she woke the next morning her body was painful and bruised.
She knows that he must be sorry, because he sent her flowers to forgive.

She received flowers yet again!And this was not mother's day or any other special day.Once again, he has beaten her, it was much more violent than other times.
If she leaves, what would she do?How would she care for her children?
And financial problems?She is afraid of him, but is scared to go.
And she knows that he must be sorry because, as usual, he sent her flowers to forgive.

Today, was a very special day!
She have received piles of bouquets of flowers from all those who knew her and who loved her!It was her funeral.
Last night, he finally killed her. He beat her to death.
If only She had found enough courage to leave,
She would have not received so many flowers today!

My Mother is Back in Village

I was very happy when my mother went to Thimphu to live with my sister. I always wanted her to lead easy life once we grew up, because she had suffered enough of rural hardship in brining me and my four siblings up. The time had come for her to hang her spades. She could live with me but she chose to live with my sister because she found herself more useful there because my office going sister needed a helping hand in babysitting her two children.

My mother, proud as she should be, gave away our cows and hens, left the fields fellow, locked our home and came to Thimphu to live with her daughter, along with our baby sister. In Thimphu, the sunburn on her face soon faded, her rough fingers softened and she gained weight. It was the beginning of a happy chapter in her life. She was the queen of the family with a loving brother inlaw.

She would visit me briefly from time to time, and we would talk of our village and people there. Soon we had very less subjects to talk about, because she didn't have anything more to talk about our village. I could sense a subtle longing in her during the long hours we spent near the TV in silence. She would sleep in the afternoon like a baby and mostly grumble about petty thing. My once confident mother who was a leader of kind in our village sounded so subdued over time.

How can her life be so wonderful in Thimphu when she personally had nothing significant to aspire to in life, given the kind of person she has always been. She would wake up in the morning and help prepare my little sister and niece for school, then after my brother inlaw and sister left she would take my nephew out to play. When the little boy would get tired of play she would put him to sleep and fall asleep alongside. She had managed a few friends in the neighbourhood with whom she would spend her long lonely afternoons.

In the evening when everybody returned home she would make them tea and spend the next hours running after the kids. Over dinner they would watch TV and there she would have no common topic with school going and office going people. If some guest showed up she would help with tea and snacks but if the guest was not a family member she knew, then she would take the kids into another room and wait till they left. This was her daily routine. It could have been so beautiful if it was just for a week or month but it went on for years. It was like she was waiting for the end purposelessly.

With My Ashim and our children on the way home

My mother had put on a visible amount of weight, lost her frontal teeth, complained about illnesses and had become so emotional. Every time I met her I felt little more guilty and when she nagged about petty thing I would even give her advices but deep inside I asked myself -what have we done? We were loving her in a wrong way. We took her away from home, leave her in urban isolation, make her so vulnerable to lifestyle diseases and proudly thought we were giving her our best.

Even when I thought of my village, I would first see the lock on our door, then I would see the faces of all the people who dies in last few years and even in my dreams I see my villages in gloomy weather. My villages without my mother wasn't quite the place I would want to think of. All the beautiful memories of village seemed somehow dimmed.

Toward the end of last year my mother expressed he wishes to return home because my little nephew has come of age to go to nursery school. Along with her our little sister would return too because the two of them were inseparable. Though we were worried about our little sister's education for long time we respected her decision this time.

My little Sister and Mother in the Village

Now my mother is back to the village and my sister goes to Chundu Middle Secondary School, which is just over ten minutes walk from our village. Our fields are green again, house is dusted and our chimney is smoking again. Sunburn has darkened my mother's face again but I can see a broad smile on her dark face. There are endless things in village that keeps her busy and during auspicious days she goes to village temple where elders would gather to sing Mani and chat about life.

My Happy mother with her children and Grandchildren

When I visited home last month she looked very happy and busy. I don't have to worry about lifestyle diseases anymore because she is physically engaged in some many village activities. And during the lazy afternoons she spends time with neighbours and chat endlessly over tea. She has gotten rid of her nap habits too. Her confidence is back and she is everybody's Aum Gaki in the village. I hope she will soon get back her posts as Village Health Worker, Manager of Milk Booth, Member of Women Association of Haa...

And Remember, last time during the Royal Visit she was chosen to offer Tshogchhang and that's when she was blessed with the photograph of her life with His Majesty, Her Majesty and the prime minister.

The Photograph of Her life, and ours!

Now when I think of my village I first see my happy mother's face and then our green fields. I have good dreams of my village and I once again feel like a hostel student longing to go home. Home is where mother is happy. 

Disclaimer: My village has road, electricity, etc. and is only 4 km from the town. It has three high school high schools and a junior school within five km radius. Therefore the village I am talking about cannot be related to many difficult ones across the country. I am only talking about life in my village. There are many other villages in which I won't imagine people leaving their parents for whatever reasons. 

Life in Prison

When police announced their intention to frisk youth in Thimphu, I smiled with approval because it came right after I read a piece on two parking fee collectors being robbed by a group of boys. Perhaps police grew desperate because of the similar incidences, which I am sure they must be encountering everyday. But desperate measures are often clouded and shortsighted as this was.

A Moment from Camp RUF, Dagana. Youth in action

At the TEDx talk, my 22 year old colleague Tim Huang opened his presentation with a slideful of recent headlines from Bhutanese newspapers, which more or less told the world that Bhutan is plagued with youth problems. He goes on to justify "Bhutan don't have youth problem". (I will share the link when it's available on YouTube) And now the new headline will scare the world.

At this point it will be interesting to compare the number of youth with drug problem with number of adult with alcohol problem, youth involved in fights with adults involved in domestic violence, theft cases involving youth with theft cases involving adults, youth fraud with adult frauds, corrupt youth with corrupt adults, and I sometimes find it funny how we the minority adults decide what, how and when to do everything for the majority youth population. We are playing god with them.

I know a boy who went to prison one too many times. He was first caught breaking into a grocery store at night. He cried, begged, he promised, and did everything to avoid going behind the bars. He is now a regular. He doesn't cry or beg anymore. He rather goes in and brings out best prison stories. He gets into all sorts of problems just to get arrested. He likes getting arrested when the dinner menu in the prison is chicken. Prisoners get three confirmed meals each day with strong roof over their head. Their diet consists of nutrition that majority of Bhutanese living freely don't have the luxury to enjoy. How many families are lucky enough have meat on their plates twice a week?

Only thing that they are deprived of is freedom, which is quite subjective though. Because what's freedom without the means to make a decent living. Therefore the boy I know loves to remain in prison more than anywhere else. Life in prison makes more sense to him when on the contrary life outside should.

Now the question is how do we make life outside prison better for youth? How do we guarantee them freedom in real sense? Or may be who are we to think and decide for them? They are not our future, they are our present. Give them the chance.

His Majesty's Carpenter Story

It was winter of 2000 in Punakha that I first saw His Majesty in person, as a young crown prince. You can calculate how young he was then. I was participating in national level sports meet in Khuruthang, when then His Royal Highness visited us. In the school hall, I along with over hundred sportsmen from schools across the country listened to a story His Royal Highness shared.

His Majesty 

The story was about a very skilled carpenter who spent all his life building houses for people except himself. One day the old carpenter was invited to build a house by a rich man, which was going to be the last project because he has grown very old. When he finally completed the house the rich man came to him and said, "You have spent your life building houses for other but you don't have a house for yourself, this last house you built is my gift for you."
The carpenter who should be very happy about receiving the gift, looked at the house he built and in deep repentance thought "If I knew this house was for myself I would have build it better in so many ways"

That day when I heard the story I thought the carpenter was stupid, I felt sorry for him, yet I rejoiced in the fact that he got a house and that he could improve the house as he wished because after all he was a carpenter.

I retold the story so many times to my siblings and friends over the years, and gradually I began to discover the deeper meaning. Soon I began to resent the carpenter. He was a gifted person who had never done his best. Only when he knew the house was his to take he thought of how differently he could have built.

I grew up with the story, and the story grew with me. His majesty's message seeped deep within me. When I look back I realised I was like the carpenter when I was studying, halfhearted in my endeavours and disregarding purposes in things. Later, the life I have build in school was finally gifted to myself at the end of school. I got lucky, but there are many friends who had to live the halfhearted lives they build for themselves, like the regretful carpenter.

Eight meaningful years have passed by since I began my career and when I look back I am proud that I have built all the houses like they were my own, and like the rich man's gift,
everything in coming back to me in the form of satisfaction, experience and happiness.

On His Majesty's 35th Birthday, along with my prayers I commit to put my heart in every little thing I do in enriching the lives of people around me and the society without fear or favour. I commit I will be responsible and won't tolerate irresponsibility. I promise I won't be corrupt and won't tolerate corruption. This is a humble gift to his majesty from an ordinary subject.

Seven Years in Bajothang

September 25, 2014 was officially my last day in Bajothang. This day was never in my plan. Infact I didn't have a plan beyond Bajothang. This just happened suddenly. I wouldn't have left this place for anything, but sometimes we have to make important choices, choices that are more than places and people, choices that are dream come true.

The Last Shot of the Beautiful Place I am leaving behind

I never thought I would spend seven years away from home, and gradually begin to call that strange place my new home but I think Bajothang was written in my destiny. Perhaps it was written for seven years. The seven defining years- the seven years that made me a happy teacher, husband, and father.

Seven years was a lot of time. So many things changed in these many years. First 3 batches of my students would already be in jobs and have started families. People came and went, I am among the few who came and stayed. Seven Years have passed thus. And now is the time.

Tomorrow I will pack my bags for Paro. That's another place away from home yet Paro has always been home. I began my school in Paro and finished my college from Paro and the seventeen years inbetween were spent in that beautiful valley. I am returning home. I am returning to my educational home to be student again, for two more years, to reshape the teacher that I am.

Counting the last days in Bajothang, settling things, meeting people, and attending farewell dinners, I realize I have earned the friendship of best of people in the town, yet because of my activist's activities I am told that there are some people whom I have disappointed, but I am hopeful that someday they will come to love me when they understand what I was trying to do to this place. It was never personal, and when they realize that they will hopefully begin to appreciate what I did. In seven years I dreamt to fix everything in Bajothang but as I pack my bag I can see that I couldn't turn a stone. So next time I must dream twice.

I hope I will find time to return to this place and finish two last projects I have begun here: The Museum in the School and Book Cafe in the town.

Rushing up to meet my personal deadline 

Finishing Touch to the center piece...

It's Almost Ready. 

Love Story and Real Life Story

My son is in love and he is very serious about it, which makes me very happy as a father and as a friend to my grown up son but there are some thing I want to tell him about love and life but he won't listen to me, perhaps he thinks I am too ugly to judge his love story or perhaps he thinks I am too old to understand  his way of life. I don't blame him and his school of thought. They are inspired by our generation.

Our generation, who are now parents of young adults are responsible for reshaping the culture of modern Bhutan. We were the ones who introduced love story in schools, who were the ones who experimented with drugs, we were the ones who formed gangs and popularised gang fights, and therefore now we are paying for all the wrongs.

I personally have no hand in any of the revolution in schools those days, I fought but alone, I loved but silently, and to my parents I have been the best son who gave them happiness every year and who never bothered them financially or socially. Perhaps that's why it hurts worst when my own child doesn't pay attention to my words.

I was only explaining to him a simple concept of love and life. At his age it's his natural right to fall in love and think that the world revolves around his girlfriend. At his age it's also obvious to love the song "when we are hungry, love will keep us alive." But sometimes it's foolish to wait and learn from ones own mistake, we could easily learn from others mistakes. I have seen that love doesn't keep people alive when they have nothing in the kitchen.

My Facebook Cover :(

I have met many high school lovers of our time living desperate and pathetic lives and wosres without each other, they have tasted real life and understood that their high school love wasn't enough to keep them together. I don't want my son to regret his love story like them, I want him to have a wonderful life with her and tell their children about their long love story. For that to happen they must concentrate on building the foundation of good life, which is education.

If they truly love each other and have serious intention of living the rest of their life together they should inspire each other to study harder, promise to bring great results, insist on completing homework, remind about assignment, and all the loving things that will bring them joy and seal their future.

But encouraging each other in bunking school, missing classes, ignoring homeworks, spending wasteful hours on phone and Facebook chat, and cheating parents and romancing will only bring momentary and selfish pleasure. These are recipe for a disastrous life and relationship. They will hate each other for being the reason for their failure in life.

But there is still time and I want my child to listen to me once seriously and live his love life intelligently. I also want my students and all the student lovers to decide how they want to live and love...

Monthly Birthday Gift to my Daughter

My daughter, Ninzi Tshomo, in her three and a half years of the journey into life has only seen the best part of human life. It was her luck that she came into our life when Kezang and I are of the right age to become parents and when two of us are well settled in life to offer her the best. It was our luck that after the day she was born we got to see the best days of our life. She was someone on whom we could invest all our love and harvest unlimited joy. It’s a perfect life we are living, but this perfect moment asks me an imperfect question: Will this last forever?

                                           Compilation of Ninzi’s Self-made videos

It’s a very simple question, yet it breaks my heart. Everything that begins somewhere will end anywhere and nobody knows where and nothing can stop. As long as I and Kezang last she will be our princess but the sad reality is that we are designed to perish. My greatest fear is that the princess might have to face life on her own someday before we could make her ready.

If such a day comes sooner my daughter will be made to pay for all the good times she had with us, because we have lived for today and have done nothing for her tomorrow. There is no home she can call hers, not a patch of land to set her feet on and no savings to shelter her from the hard reality.

Ninzi VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

As young parents, we threw lavish parties on her first two birthdays but on the third birthday it suddenly occurred to me that my daughter would need more than just a birthday party because life is not a birthday cake, it’s rather like the candle on that cake that is blown off when the crowd sings. 

So on her third birthday (29th Nov 2012) I signed my daughter’s education insurance policy papers and sealed it with a big kiss. I can’t buy her a house or land but I have readied her college fees that day. On her 18th birthday she will receive her first premium of over hundred thousand ngultrums to pay for her college, and every year she will receive the same amount till she completes her college. On her 21st birthday, she will receive the full bonus and have four hundred thousand at her disposal until she decides what to do with her life. Every month on her birthday, i.e. 29th, I gift her with the monthly instalment. If someday I live no more the insurance company will still have to pay her college fees, as is mentioned in terms and condition. 

If I am lucky enough, I will pray for that and even the insurance company will pray, to see my daughter go to college, be there on her graduation day, then perhaps we will use that money to go on vacation every year, and on her 21st birthday she can buy a car for herself and take Kezang and me on a ride because by then my Santro car will be too old.

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!

Dream 2013

On this first day of the new year I am getting a funny feeling of teasing everybody who ever believed in the end of the world last year. I was one person who had to fight back hundreds of scared faces each day of 2012, and I had to tell them "I will take the risk". Deep down I was laughing, if world does end then I won't be there at all and if it didn't I could walk with my heads held high.
Fear is good for living meaningfully, and looking back at the last year I am happy how it help us think of the end. Any thing that is limited is of great charm, and life is a limited edition gift, ours didn't end in 2012 but it will someday. Therefore live it big.

Wish you Luck.  Source: robbwolf.com

2013 is extraordinarily beautiful because we all came back from the end of the world, therefore it's the beginning of the new world. I have lived my life well last year and I want to believe December 2013 is the end of the world again and make best out of each day of this new year. My Dream2013 is to relive 2012, because I am a teacher things repeat, but with greater respect to life, lesser complains, and become more charitable with my knowledge, skills and ideas.
Thank you all for reading this blog and adding greater purpose to my life, I am proud to tell you that because of you I have could write 374 post on this blog with 118 in 2012 alone. With your well-wishes I have gathered 375 followers and over 400 thousand views- what more can I as for as a blogger?- Thank you.
What is your Dream 2013? Happy New Year!

The Inner Search in Schools

When Meditation was first introduced in schools a few years ago, it was received with good humor. Students found it funny in the beginning and boring gradually. Most teachers never believed in it and some believers soon forgot it. I never really understood why this was happening. But I tried hard to advocate that it was to do with calming our mind and sharpening our focus on studies-which was how I vaguely understood and I discovered I wasn't fully wrong.

Meditation before the Evening Prayer in Bajothang

Now that I have the complete understanding of the intention behind introducing this in schools I would like to share it with my readers. It's a very simple ritual a school should follow whenever possible to give students a quite moment of calmness, in which they get time to be mindful. Mindfulness is the key in this practice. It's a known fact that nobody wants be bad, nobody wants be in trouble, but they land up being without their intention. And one bad thing leads to another. That's the result of not being mindful. We are always in rush.
Everybody has a choice at all times, we make many decisions every moment of our lives and our decisions shape us. While making those many decisions we have two voices talking to us from within our head, one is the good one and other is bad, but how many of us know which one to listen to?
That's what's happening to our students everyday, they don't want to land up in problem but they got into trouble by the wrong decisions they made. They didn't know they have picked on the wrong choice. Not many of us make right decisions at all times either. They need help. But no external help can solve your internal problem, how long can anyone rely on help considering the hundreds of decisions we have to make everyday. The help is right there within ourselves. We only have to focus and that focus comes from training our mind. That's why Meditation is brought to school, and I believe in it, because a mindful child will live a meaningful life.

There are different types and levels of meditation, please Google it. I picked on the simplest one and I am trying with my students every day and I have asked them to spare one minute every morning and evening for it. They know why they are doing this, and with them I am also in search the good voice myself. This could solve many of life's problems, this could be the answer to all the disciplinary problems in the school, and this could be the revolution against social problems, if at all we take it with genuine seriousness.

Note: Meditation in school has no connection with any religion, the only connection it has is with ones mind and therefore with ones life. 

Dorji-puen: Spiritual Brothers and Sisters

Both my mother and mother in-law were among thousand other in Haa last month receiving Thrul from his holiness the Je Khenpo. And this time I had the opportunity to understand the purpose of closely. There were many things I took for granted and therefore I missed the biggest responsibility as the eldest son.
Thrul is the spiritual preparation for death, it's the turning point in ones life; the point in life where we realize and accept death as the gateway to next life and therefore receive the teachings that are believed to be the light through the gateway.

My Mother (green tego)and her Dorji-Puen

Two interesting events during the Thrul are Getting the spiritual name and then meeting the spiritual family.
Our names are believed to be associated only with our body, and therefore we must leave it behind as well. We receive choeming, meaning the spiritual name, the name with which we will be known after death.
Then the spiritual family- the crowd of thousands will form groups of seven with the blessing from the je Khenpo and they become Dorji-puen. Seven strangers unite in the presence of his holiness to be spiritual brothers and sisters across lives, yes across lives. Dorji-puen means your brothers and sisters for next life.

My Mother In-Law (in Blue tego) and her Dorji-Puen

And if you love your parents so much you must make it your first priority to let them receive this blessing when they are still strong and breathing. You may not believe in all this but what is more important is what they believe in. This is one priceless gift. But I failed. I was out on vacation when my mother met her spiritual brothers and sisters. I and all my siblings were expected to be with her during the ceremony, and we should be meeting her newfound family over tea or lunch. I am only hoping I will make it up to her someday. But you need not wait for another day, know that you have to be there during the last two days of the Thrul with tea, which I didn't know. My brother in-law, though youngest in the family, made all the difference by being there and fulfilling his duty as son. Thank you.

Dear Students, The World of Your Own

The world will not end this year I will take the risk if it does, but I can't take the risk if you choose to end your world. You own a world of your own and you are the center of that world. You can destroy that world as easily as you could make it a wonderful place to live in. There are always choices ahead of you, distinctly black and distinctly white, easily separable. There are people like you and me who go strong and make white choices, and there are people like you and me whom the black choices choose because they are not strong enough to love themselves.
Every time you go on vacation I get a bad feeling that you might land up on the dark side of life, from where you might drown further away from life everytime you want to return, therefore I write this to you to tell you three simple things as you leave for summer vacation of 2012.

1. Bad opportunities, like weeds in our garden, are generously available in the human garden. But don't be generous with them, be kind enough to spare yourself a few moment to think of all the people that mean to you so much, and think about what would happen to them if you go those wrong ways.

2. You will be caught. Bad things never go unpunished. Every time you are tempted to do something wrong just know that you can't run from it. If love can't stop let fear hold you back.

3. Take care of your own little world, the big world will take care of itself.
Have a happy summer vacation. Make people around you happy. And when we reunite let's share our happy stories.


- Posted using BlogPress

 

On My Birthday- June 6

My birthday has never been a special day during my childhood, I never had a cake in my name, nobody would remember the date, and I would cry but things started getting brighter as I learned to expect less. Now my birthdays are special because I have mastered the theory of expecting nothing, and therefore if nothing happens then nothing happens, and whatever little things come my way becomes pleasant surprise.

Birthday Picture for the Record.

But life is strange, best happens when you least expect and I often wish if some of these happened to me when I was desperately wishing for them. Now I have a beautiful family who would remember my birthday for me and treat the day like a national holiday and I have friends all over who would send their best wishes as if they have waited whole year to do that. I don't know why they are so excited about letting me know that I am growing old lol.
This is my last year in twenties and I am getting a strange reluctance to agree, because this one year unlike other years will change the whole story about me- now I know why some items' cost has _99 as suffix, one Nu. makes a great difference when considered at critical point. However, with this birthday I have broken the record of my father who died at 28- I think I am going to live longer.
For all the wishes and kind words, early and belated, long and short- some as short as 'HBD', from near and far, thank you so much. Your words made me feel wanted and useful in this world, they gave me joy and pride, and they gave me good reasons to live longer and bigger. Thank you all so much.

Life Changing Show: Aamir Khan's Satyamev Jayate

My Singaporean friends were surprised at my fluent Hindi, I surprised them most when I told them that majority of urban dwellers could speak better than me. Who wouldn't doubt we were immigrants from India but I explained that our homes were invaded by Indian TV Soaps, and even before we had TV the only cinema we knew was Bollywood.
Indian shows on TV are part of our lives and our choice of show defines our lives, and most importantly the lives of our children upon whom we enforce our choices. My cousins grew up watching my aunt's choice of family drama and I am not surprised by how their personalities are driven by those on screen.
Now is the time to switch our channel to something that will change our lives for better, and inspire dreams in our children rather than letting them learn how to fight their mother in-laws. If you were a fan of The Oprah Winfrey Show then you already have the best taste, and perhaps you must have been watching the show I am going to talk about.
Aamir Kham's Show on Star TV has a very difficult name- Satyamev Jayate but it's worth practicing because no one can help telling about the show to friends and family once you watch it. It's telecast at 11 AM (11:30 BST) every Sunday on Star World and Star Plus. The show has the power to change an individual, better a family, transform a culture, improve a system, and uplift a nation.
It makes me cry, it inspires me to be part of change, it motivates me to fight for good, it's the best show India has ever created. And the Magician Aamir Khan add five stars to the show. If Indian shows have entertained us so far, it's now time to get inspired and think of a better world.
Only four episodes have been shown so far (Click on the links to get the whole picture):

1. Daughters Are Precious
2. Break the Silence (About Sexual Abuse of Children)
3. Marriage or Market Place
4. Every Life is Precious ( About Health Care)

Dying to see what Aamir is going to bring up in the Fifth Issue, which will be on Sunday 3rd June at 11 AM (11:30 BST). Every episode ends with a heart breaking song and long after you walk away from the TV, the song echos in our soul. If this show doesn't change us then nothing else can.
If you are using iPhone (Click Here) and iPad (Click Here) you could download the StarPlus App from App Store and Watch the show live.

Compassionate Bhutan must accept Abortion now

 June 11, a young lady died in Phuntsholing Hospital after an unsuccessful abortion in Jaigaon. Until the doctors saw bleeding from the victim’s genitals, her friend had lied it was an epileptic attack. Telling the truth could lead to legal actions, but she left the world, free of pains.

Record shows that every year over 200 women suffer similar fate, which could be just the tip of an iceberg. There may be hundreds others who must be crying in the corners with pain, or worse must have died silent deaths.

Our compassionate Buddhist kingdom views abortion as a very sinful act, equivalent to killing a person. But with due respect, I seek to know where is compassion in letting a young woman die along with her baby? Where is compassion in letting an unwanted child see the light of the world, sentencing him to a home where he wasn’t wanted? Where is compassion in letting a young woman give birth to a child, whose father has given up on them?

I find more compassion in abortion; killing a cell for the sake of a woman’s life, and liberating both the mother and the child from depth of mistake. Abortion is not an ice cream that everybody would enjoy if made free, it is but the only option left when everything seems wrong. No woman will go for abortion for pleasure.

If there was a way out, the 23 year old woman wouldn’t have travelled over 400 km straight against her country’s law and pay Nu.9000 to let someone dig into her and take her guts out. In such times no amount of law can stop that. But just because it’s illegal at home, the desperate woman has gone out to Jaigaon, place where nothing seems right- who knows if the man who operated on her was a doctor or a vegetable vendor.

Abortion is not permitted in Bhutan because we are Buddhist, isn’t it more Buddhist to forgive a woman for her mistake and give her a new life instead of letting her die along with child, which we were trying to protect? How many women must die before we rethink our role as a Buddhist?

Dear Students... I studied in Dawakha

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.

Your lovingly

PaSsu

Dear Students,

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.

Living After Death-II

This article is inspired by Dawa's Live talk show on BBS with three doctors on 27th Sept. I regard the three of them as Angels of Light. 

Transplanted Cornea- Photo Wikipedia

In my "Living after Death" I expressed my willingness to donate my body parts after I die, and I meant it. But I wasn't quite sure about which all organs could be of use then, which is why even lungs and brain are in the list. However I am surprised that even the thin watery tissue (called Cornea) over my eye balls could be a life changing donation. It could help a blind see the light of the world. So dear Dr. Gado, please register me as your donor.

In medical history the first cornea transplant was performed in 1905 by Eduard Zirm, and after 105 year Bhutan is blessed. It is a surgical procedure where a damaged or diseased cornea is replaced by donated corneal tissue.

The tissue has to be removed from a recently deceased individual which make it hard to find donors unlike blood.

Bhutan is going to have an eye bank by next year where the donated cornea will be stored. But as of now we are getting it from Tilganga Eye Hospital in Nepal and we may have to depend on international donations until we could change the mindset of the people . It is said that many Bhutanese feel if their eye is removed after they die they may be born blind in their next life. But I have never seen any woman giving birth to a piece of charcoal, which ought to be since we are reduced to charcoal after we die. His holiness the Je Khenpo boldly denounced the superstitious beliefs and encouraged organ donation (in his statement to Business Bhutan). 

As for myself, I am not worried about being born blind in my next life since the eye bank will be waiting. I am so thankful that I lived a complete life and as I go I want someone to see the beautiful world I saw. Long after I said goodbye I would be seeing the world through my donated eye. I want to live after death. 

P:S: National Health Policy seems to be silent on Organ Donation and transplant for whatever reason...(read Business Bhutan)

My Daughter Becomes Nine Month Old

Sonam N Tshomo near Chimmi Lhakhang

9:09 PM this evening my daughter became nine months old. Thank you, God, for the nine months of extreme happiness and thank you more for leading us through the heart breaking moments. Being a parent is the most serious business I have known for the last nine precious months; business where all our love is invested without a slightest expectation of return. All you ever want back is an innocent smile, which my daughter, Sonam N Tshomo has lots to give.

List of SNT’s Activities for the Record

• tore two pairs of shoes
• broken a Walker
• speaks a lot (her own Language)
• shoots from room to room at supersonic speed
• shits only when put in walker
• doesn’t even have her first tooth
• uses her left hand most of the time
• hates playing with toys- she likes real things
• dances to Dzongkha songs
• farts like a big fat lady
• uneasy with new people
• sweats heavily
• can clap, wave, and dance when asked to
• can say apa, mama, angay, … and hundred others sounds
• hates sleeping in Cradle

All good things come to an end

Dechen in the Center (in White) during her office Picnic

Dechen is one rare species of humankind; fat body with the fattest heart. Her life is boring without a single enemy. She makes sure everyone gets a seat in the hall and there is chicken on everybody’s plate. She has become a part of my family; she is our driver, second mummy to my kids, second husband to my wife, and second wife to me (joking). She is the best human we know in Wangdue, but Wangdue ran out of its luck this morning or may be we were unlucky; Dechen packed her home and left for Thimphu.

We were so lucky to have crossed path with Dechen who left golden footprints in our lives. Tonight the sky over Wangdue seems darker. Goodbye Dechen you can’t leave us, we will follow thee.