Mother's Sweet Revenge?

I saw an elderly woman completely drunk and making scene near Paro Dzong on the first day of Tshechu. Everybody was avoiding her. She was flat on the ground crying and cursing, occasionally begging to be taken to hospital or home. She was wearing a complete set of Tshechu clothing, except it’s all covered in dust. Like Cinderella she has left one of her shoes some distance away from her.

My son Jigme and I went close to her and asked if she really needed to go to hospital. A nearby shopkeeper cautioned us through her window, 

“Sir, stay away. Just let her be. She is drunk.”

I didn’t feel comfortable leaving a woman of my mother’s age in that condition even though she was wasted. I picked her shoe and like prince charming tried it on her foot. It was a perfect fit. Lol.

Tshechu is full of Show

“Ama, you must have come to watch Tshechu, why are you becoming the Tshechu yourself? People are watching you perform here.”
She tried to crawl but fell back heavily on her back. We brought some cardboard pieces and gave her a thin layer of mattress and pillow.
“You don’t seem to need hospital, you need to go home and sleep. Where do you live?”
She pointed in random directions. I knew she was totally disoriented. She stopped throwing tantrum and began paying attention to me. We bought her water knowing very well how it would feel.
“Ama, if you must drink you should wait till the evening, reach home and enjoy your drink. Here in Tshechu you have made a joker of yourself. And where are your friends? Even they have gone into hiding.”
She would laugh and cry at the same time and cursed her friends for leaving her. Not surprisingly she was in agreement with my suggestions, like all seasoned drinkers.

Then it struck me that she might own a mobile phone. So I asked if she had one, which I could use to get her people pick her up. She dug into her hemcho for the longest time and took out a cold drink and handed it over to me.
“Don’t drink this. It’s mine.”
“Give me your mobile phone.”
She went into her hemcho again and came out with her purse, then few changes but not her phone. So I helped her search for it. Bingo, it was just there.

I went into her call log and dialled the most recent number. It was someone in Punakha. Then the next, it didn’t answer. Then I checked her contact list and surprisingly there were names saved. So I read out each name and asked her whom to call. She suggested a lady.
“Sir, I’m in the town. I have to be here for a while.”
“Can you tell me whom I should call to get immediate help?”
“Try her son and nephew. They are both in the Tshechu.” The lady gave me their names. I checked back in her contact list and found the son’s number.
“Hello, you mother is here near a shop beside the Dzong. She seems too drunk. Can you come and take her home.”
“Sir, I will send her nephew immediately.”
I put back her phone, purse, changes and most importantly her cold drink into the safety of her hemcho. While waiting for her nephew I casually remarked,

“Ama, you have to understand how your children would feel seeing you like this and embarrassing them in the crowd…”

“Dasho, my children are not like you. They too must understand how I feel after all these years of raising them… they have done their share of embarrassing me!”

I didn’t have anything to say after that. It seems embarrassment was mutual. Her son and nephew came and took her home. They were thanking me but I told them to be more thankful to their mother.

I am hoping the shopkeeper lady who cautioned me to stay away must have learnt how to help. I am also hoping my son would have learned something because I have learned something.

On the last day I saw the woman again. Not drunk.

Story About and Inside Monu Tamang's Book

Monu Tamang made news with his first book 'Joy of Beautiful Dreams' when he was still in high school. Then he left for college in India on scholarship where along with his four years physiotherapy course he completed his first novel 'Chronicle of a Love Foretold' and made another news.

The story about the book and the story in the book, both are equally fascinating. A young college student publishing a novel in itself is a big story considering how lots of young people waste their college life like a vacation. Besides, the book was crowdpublished, which made another story. It's a unique model improvised by my friend and co-founder of Writers Association of Bhutan (WAB) Nawang Phuntsho that divides the cost of publishing into packets and allow individuals to invest in parts. Monu's book was jointly published by over 30 WAB members and what is more interesting is the marketing strategy the model offers. All 30 investors become marketers making the model crowd publishing and crowd marketing. Thus the book became the fastest sold book in small Bhutanese market.

The story in the book is set in Raichur in south India and it's narrated in the first person by a physiotherapy student Kinga. Personally knowing the author too well and knowing that he went to that college and took that course made it difficult for me to separate Kinga from Monu in most of the chapters. However, having been there for four years Monu takes us on a very exciting tour of his college and gives us an insight into his course through Kinga with fascinating details.

It's a story of friendship and love in college told very convincingly with interesting characters. The parent elements add strength to the entire fabric of the story. Kinga loves his mother and hates his father, whom he never met. He has serious trust issues and avoids intimate relationships until he meets Namsa. She happens to be engaged with another man. And when he thinks the worst has passed he finds Rani from his past ruining his present with Namsa. She leaves and his world crumbles. Years later his patient in Paro Hospital gives him the direction in life, and more... I shall stop here before I risk ruining the charm of suspense.

In between the stories of fun the author gives us a disturbing insight into the lives of our children studying in India. This book is not for parents whose children are studying in India because it could cause a heart attack. They are going to discover where their children are pumping their hard-earned money into -- romance, amusement parks, smoking, drinking, fighting, biking, holidaying ...without a care in the world. Could the rumour of some students intentionally failing so that they could go to Indian college be true?

The author, Monu Tamang, on the contrary, not only aced his physiotherapy course but also completed a 227 paged novel, which is evident that he spent his days in India differently and did the nation proud.

Update: Get the book from BOOKNESE

Surprise Gift from my Wife

My wife Kezang said she had a surprise gift for my birthday last June. Now that was a surprise in itself. It got be nervous because she wasn’t known for any kind of surprises, in fact she hated surprises.

I assumed she was going to do something romantic for once. If she woke me up on my birthday and gave me a flower then I would be surprised because that was the last thing she would do. She’s very romance shy woman, who thinks what happens in movies and books should remain there.

Anyway, my birthday came and went uneventfully, as usual, without any surprise whatsoever. I didn’t show any obvious sign of disappointment but deep down I was upset that she forgot her surprise gift. Few days passed and when she never mentioned about it I had to bring it up.

Me: Where is your ‘surprise gift’?

Kezang: I already gave you, you didn’t notice?

Me: No, is it kind of invisible?

Kezang: Sort of, it was something visible that became invisible.

Me: Come on, just say you forgot it.

Kezang: No, I gifted you your wife’s health!

Me: What do you mean?

Kezang: I quit smoking since your birthday!

Kezang has been smoking even before we met. In between she quit once for three years, from the time she was expecting our daughter till she stopped breastfeeding. But such was a smoker’s urge, only few days after she stopped breastfeeding she just restarted smoking. In three years her urge didn’t die. Those three years were the biggest sacrifice the mother in her had done for her child.

I tried everything I could to make her quit but she just couldn’t. I had blackmailed her, scared her, sweet-talked her, read articles, share inspiring pictures, showed YouTube videos, and even bought substitutes like nicotine chewing gums. She would agree to every word I said but she just couldn’t give up.

I told her that we had to grow old together and see our children grow. I even reminded her of how her skin rejuvenated and glowed when she stopped smoking for three years. I always told her that she was committing a gradual suicide and planning to leave us alone helplessly.

I couldn’t imagine a life without her and she was smoking her life away slowly each day. Soon I began to feel that if it was so much part of her I mustn’t take it away from her, though both of us knew we would have a wonderful life without smoking. She was fighting her own losing battle against it.

But just when I felt so hopeless my unromantic wife gifting me the most romantic gift ever. She has made her choice before it’s late, when the time is right, where there is still enough strength left in our age to rebuild our health. It’s been four months since she quit and now she tells me that her urge is gone completely.

It was indeed the biggest surprise gift ever and I wish this happened to all the couples that are so much in love and have the longing to grow old together. 

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.

Say No to Sex on Camera

Love making is one of the most intimate expressions of love. There is nothing shameful and bad about having sex but unlike in the rest of the animal kingdom sex is a very private affair in human world. When this very romantic ritual becomes public then it turns vulgar and therefore subjected to humiliation.
Bhutanese society is so small that just one leaked private video is enough to disturb half the population while the unaffected half share and gossip over it. Shocking number of homemade leaked videos have silently gone viral in our country and no one is giving a second thought before forwarding them to their friends. What more is a sadist?
Sadist is the man who made love on camera. Sadist is the man who leaked the private video. Sadist is the man who distributed the video. And sadist we all are in receiving those videos and watching them, trying to see if we could identify the people in the clips. How exciting it is when she is not our sister, how naughtily we talk about it when it's not our daughter, how casual we are because she is nothing to us. Will you do the same if she was a family? Can you imagine the humiliating pain she and her loved ones are going through?
Today the world is with you in having fun at their expense, tomorrow the same world will switch side and enjoy at your expense should you be the victim.
I see no difference between the women in videos and any other women when it comes to what they will do in bedroom, it's just the matter of having caught up with a wrong guy who took advantage of their trust. Whatever the intentions were, the act of recording the private business in itself was wrong. There can't be a justification, it was just ruthless abuse of blind trust. How could it leak out if it was never recorded?

I am a guilty sadist by circumstance; because I use a smart phone and I have huge contacts I have received every leaked videos in the town but on my part I have tried to stop right there by not forwarding them. I know I couldn't make any difference but as brother, as son and as father I have done my share of right so that I could face the women in my family without much guilt.

One woman I know has received all of the clips and surprisingly she has forwarded to all her women friends. Quite shocked, I asked why would she, as woman, do this instead of helping in containing it. She told me that her not-forwarding them can hardly make any difference, she rather chose to send them to her lady friends to warn them and to let them learn lesson. She is right, sometimes we can learn from mistaken we haven't done ourselves.

Remember:

1. When you are sending your phone or computer for repair, make sure you don't have secrets saved in them. It's alleged that some videos were leaked that way.
2. The files you have deleted from your memory devices can be retrieved using retrieval software, so don't think your secrets are gone when you have clicked on Delete button. 
3. If you are staying in cheap local hotels make sure there aren't any peepholes as was in one case. 
4. Last and the best, don't trust your partner if he takes out his camera in the bedroom. Say no to Sex on Camera and there is nothing to worry about. Sometimes it's not about trusting your partner but it's about how well we understand the technology. 

What keeps us going as Bhutanese is not our military might, it cannot be technology advancement and never was industrial estate, we are beautifully Bhutanese because of our social values that binds us as family but these videos we are sharing are degrading our Bhutaneseness...

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...

No More Valentines Day, Only 13th October

On this day, 13th of October last year, we saw the most beautiful wedding of all time. Our king had finally found our queen. The most beautiful queen. It was a series of history in the making that day and I felt blessed to have lived in the moment that saw the father king crowning the queen of Bhutan. That moment I didn't care if Kezang was watching me I just let my happiest teardrops flow.

Image Source: The Globe and Mail

Your majesties the king and the Queen, I wish you all the love and happiness in the world, and I will pray each day for your good health. May your loving union bring endless smiles to the lives of every Bhutanese, who will never fail in loving you. May you bless this beautiful kingdom with a beautiful Crown Prince very soon.

I don't know which day to celebrate as our wedding anniversary because Kezang and I really don't remember when we declared ourselves as man and woman like many Bhutanese couples, but since last year this great event on this auspicious day gave me all the inspiration to celebrate our union today. Further, there will be no more Valentines day in our lives, only 13th October. It's the national wedding day.

My Brother is a Promise

My twenty four year old giant brother has a child's heart in his chest. He has long outgrown my size but his mind defied the laws of nature, the world around him doesn't seem to bother him a bit. He sits down with an eleven year old and spend the whole day enjoying their fantasy. He is perfectly happy even after repeating thrice in the BHSEC.
But love took him on a joyride, only to wake him from his wonderful dream. When he shared about his girlfriend who was a qualified working lady, it got me worried. I warned him. And it got me more worried when I discovered she was a very good lady. My jobless and innocent brother has fallen in love with a working lady, and how in the world is he going to keep her happy? My thoughts were rustic, I know, but rustically true. I was being traditional, but there is no denying that we have hardly changed. I pushed him hard when he was doing his exam for the third time. I begged of him to feel the gravity of the real world. I assured him that he is a good promise. But result broke it.
World is far meaner than my brother learnt from his little friends, and I was worrying his share for him, because 'mean' is not something he has understood yet. Thus, a week has passed, gloomy and shocked- god and the lady knows what the reasons are but my poor brother could hardly justify why the good relationship is loosening.
My wife is worried and I am too, we seek justification more than him, but at the depth of my mind I know it's so well justified- he is a promise no more.
I look at my million dollar brother and see promises dancing all around him, so sorry that people fail to see through an unpolluted soul.

Something More Serious than the Decorated Case of Rape

Tashi Dema's "A romance gone wrong" in Kuensel today digs into a love story which was decorated into rape, and it landed up exposing something beyond rape to worry about. The court had all the time and reason to interfere into a consensual relationship,yet I don't know (seriously don't know) if it was not the Law's responsibility to concern about why the girl's parents denounced their marriage. 


Bhutan has long done away with caste discrimination but it prevails subtly across the country and I am concerned that there is no known measures taken to combat it. This time it came right at the doors of Tsirang court, yet it goes unattended. Don't we have law that cares for such serious social ill?


I have very limited knowledge on this social division called caste and it will be the last thing I would want to know. It seems to be totally based on traditional beliefs; the beliefs that are deep rooted in age of darkness and ignorance. How could god discriminate his own creations? It was men who drew those dark lines between brothers- men who said widows have to be burnt alive with their dead husbands.

The girl's family has conducted the final rites for the girl, accepting her as dead just because she eloped with her low caste lover. For social pride one could go that far to give up ones own child. However the boy's parents, despite the bitter experiences, has housed the girl and I am wondering who is of bigger caste in the eye of god.

All these traditional dirt lingers in the minds of uneducated folks and it is only matter of time until it becomes part of history. Parents can no more pour their poison into their educated children because they have wiser minds.

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.

I Let My Wife Leave Her Job, and didn't let her regret...

We had lived apart for over two years after marriage and I thought that was too enough. But coming together could cost us a job, hers or mine. Mine we agreed was more secure being a government one, but what about hers? Well it was hard to agree upon, without having a promising option waiting. Hers was equally decent though private owned and she had a lovely workplace. She had too many good friends to leave behind unlike me, who was just an alien in Bajo yet.

Her friends knew me far lesser than she did so they had all sorts of suspicions; they shared the stories of so many new marriages being broken and women being left helpless. Her plan shocked many of them. After a while even I got myself soaked in doubt. What if somehow our marriage failed, would she find her way back? I have seen so many innocent girls being ripped of their jobs for their love only to fill their lives with tears. I knew deep down that I was not going to make her regret. That was just one side of the issue, while the other still waited for answer.

She was a working woman with habit of shopping for cosmetics, walking into beauty parlors, and dinning in good restaurants at the end of the month. Could I with my dry salary afford to treat her with her womanly basics alongside the regular household expenses and rents and clothing and so on? She may not ask for all these understanding my stand but how could I let her live a life full of silly sacrifices when I had confidently and promisingly led her off her good working life.

I suffered all these fearful energy running through my body. I couldn’t discuss the issue with my dear mother even. I had made all the choices so far and should put up with what comes hence forth. As of my wife she trusted me enough to let me think us out. And there I had made the righteous choice.

I proposed a business prospective in Wangdue. We talked it over days. Many ideas we discussed and evaluated. Cloth wholesale could run well but who will frequent the long road to and fro supplier? Same with the grocery shop and also cosmetics, in which she has greater knowledge actually. We put forward many ideas and crumble them off, as Abraham Lincoln says, “If I have six hours to fell a tree I would spend five hours in sharpening the axe.” We did right that.

Finally, this bold idea of Video Game parlor seemed right for us. We called it bold because in this we only have to worry about the initial investment. Then updating the games is necessary, which means some pieces of CDs. I did a rough estimation of how much we could earn in a month and pleasantly the worst case scenario gave me Nu.30,000 per month, which is more than three times my salary-in-hand.

I went to the bank for loan, and there I met many of my friends applying for vehicle loan. I envied them but I knew I had my priorities in order. I invested just about a hundred thousand in five sets of PlayStation consoles and TV screens. She resigned and we moved together. For more than two months the gaming sets laid in our storeroom. It was a long fearful moment with the loan adding up its interest and we waiting for a vacant shop to start up.

My wife grew pessimist by the day but I didn’t lose faith. In due course I designed the furniture and the signboard.

Exactly the day I was done we got a vacant room in Bajothang, some minute walk from where we live. And we began our business. It was a blast. It attracted young and old alike. We got our names, PlayStation uncle and PlayStation Aunty. When we oversleep on Sunday we would have kids knocking on us to come to shop. On weekdays she could have the whole morning for herself. In evening rush-hour I would go to help her with tea and snacks, and wait for my chance to play. Since I play a lot I discover lots of tricks in the games and kids beg me to teach them. Well I do that and attract more of them. Some kids come there daily and spend hours watching the fortunate ones, so I let them play for free some times.

After a month in the business my wife told me once, “You know, I feel the freedom kissing me. I can walk to the shop at my own time in my own comfortable garments, sit there and watch kids play and get paid. If I want to take rest I can just close the shop and walk back home without having to write an application of leave. And look, at the end of the month I have got more than four times my salary to count.” This was more than what I wanted to hear from my wife. She was happy and so I am.

The last December completed six and a half months since we opened our shop. We have recovered the initial investment besides our luxurious daily and monthly shopping. And last May we paid up the loan which was actually for fifty five months. Then I have applied for vehicle loan and now I drive a car and I still have the shop like the hen that lay golden egg.

I have everything a normal man wants in life; car, computer, laptop, Plasma TV, washing machine, refrigerator, sofa set, luxury bed, and a happy wife. I am not showing off my property here, in fact what I have doesn’t even qualify to be called as property but I am just trying to make a point that I have not let my wife down by let her leave her job for me. It’s all about one informed decision in life.

Students in Love

On my way to town last Sunday, I saw Sangay walking with Chokey with some other friends following them some distance apart. Sangay already had a girl friend from class nine, god know what he’s doing with Chokey. Maybe it was just a walk together.

Yesterday, while I was monitoring their work on JavaScript I saw Sangay’s left arm bearing Chokey’s name in fresh wound. When the class was over I caught hold of his arm and asked what it was all about. But what I didn’t realize was Chokey’s class was coming in for their HTML lesson. The coincidence left both thoroughly blushed.

That evening I called on sangay to tell him not to make his love bloody, and also to ask what happen to his little girl friend from class nine. I held his arm to see that Chokey’s name was buried under fresh wound. He showed me a letter from her saying she has lost faith in him and that she returning to her ex-boyfriend.

I really wanted to sort out things for them and teach them lessons on love but I am their teacher and what I am doing is against the school rules and may be against the mindset of my colleagues. Students are here to learn and not for honeymoon. If people knew I knew about their affair and left it without any disciplinary action against them I may be questioned. And what If school knew I know many such cases?

Well I am an individual and I have the right to exercise my own principles. In fact I may question them instead. Students are here to learn what is required for living. What are they going to do with algebra? Or why should they know about world war? What can they do with their knowledge of chemical reactions? We don’t teach them what they exactly require in life. All of them will once marry, so we must teach them the value of love, faith, and ways to sort out problems in relationship.

Schools treat love affairs as illegal relations and thus never allow it in anyway, so a graduate comes out of college with no idea on how to deal with his first date, how to keep love alive in a relationship, how to propose for marriage, how to care for ones pregnant wife, … Divorce is on the rise! Is there something wrong in their schooling?

Back to Drukgyel after seven years

2002 I passed out from Drukgyel with beautiful memories; this was the best school I have ever been to. I have done lots for the school and school has lots for me. It was the best of time and the worst of time... I now remember only the best. This school showed me great teachers like BB Mishera, Boj Raj, Surja lapcha and Gopilal Acherya. I became a teachers because i loved them.

I am here this time for a five-day training on Bhutan W.I.R.E.D project, even My teacher Surja lapcha is there... He is one among the only three teachers left from my times.

I can't help walking about the paths and looking at how tall the trees have grown over years, didn't even know time has passed so much. Some buildings are faded and others are recolored. There are new structures here and there but I love looking at those things that were there hwen i was here. I am still among the pages of school Magazine with my short stories and the poems. Oh! this coming back brought wave of joy and sadness...

Vagabond and Mermaid

Poor tourists are vagabonds as rich vagabonds are tourists. The ones without an address or with countless addresses is in fact vagabond in Bhutanese context. They are the humblest celebrities who roam the street of towns in our country. It is unfortunate though but every soul knew them by their names, be it Lengo Dago in Paro, Wangtsha Nidu in Haa or Uma Lengo in Wangdue. There are many others but none were as associated to one place as these three were. The only place they ever went out from their towns was to heaven straight. All three are no more today and their absence is haunting......

Read More In Bhutan Today Magazine Which is publishing soon.