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.

Rastafari in Primary School

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?

People are closing the chapter on the Suicide too soon, yet again, as expected. It's just a few of us who thought things will change forever, that the death of two young people hanging by one tree would awaken the country to the grave reality of suicide. Are you going to wait till someone hangs on the tree at your gate? Or will it take someone to hang on your bedroom fan to make it matter to you personally?

Suicide is a very fragile subject, which is differently understood by different people: Some think it's brave act to face one's death, while other say that someone who can't face life's problem is a coward. Some explain how it's an unchangeable fate, while others believe it's impetuous stunt to prove a point.

1957 winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, Albert Camus makes it sound so simple when he says, “Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?” Suicides are generally driven by simple problems that could be solved easily over a cup of coffee, if only we could hold on for that long, because it seems that for the victims there is no bigger problem at that point in time. That's why we need to discuss it, and make professional help easily accessible to people in problem. 

March 10, 1997: It was the reporting date for class VIII students in Paro Gaupay. Class VII students were announced to report after Paro Tshechu. I didn't receive my result sheet, which was to be delivered by post in January. However, nobody really bothered about my missing result because they knew I was the best. I had the reputation of being 'the boy who never failed' both at home and in the village. So they packed my bags and sent me on March 10.

My uncle was an army officer and he sent me in an Army DCM truck with several children from army camp. Those kids had received their results and their seat in class VIII were confirmed while I was to visit the headmaster and get my result first.

The driver uncle accompanied me to the headmaster's office, he looked confident because he heard from my uncle about how good I was. The headmaster knew me well because of the several visits I paid to his office the last year, and he was so pleased to hand over the result without even punishing me for not having submitted postal address like other kids. I have failed in three subjects. Headmaster told driver uncle to take me back home and send me after tshechu holidays, because that's when class VII students should report.

I turned numb with shame and guilt. I was scared. The army driver who heard so much about me from my uncle was thoroughly confused. He reloaded my bags into the DCM and asked me to join him in the front of the truck. I refused his offer and climbed on the back of the truck, where I was alone now because all the other children had passed and were staying back.

Then as we began our journey back to Dechencholing my fear began to escalate. I couldn't imagine facing the crowd at home. I feared my uncle even in normal times. That's when I decided to jump of the moving truck. I thought to myself- what would they do if I died? Would they forgive me? What if I got seriously injured? Would they forgive me? Hundreds of thoughts asking each other questions and making answers.

I still get cold feet when I think of that moment, that delicate moment when I was ready to jump. Then I sat down and calculated what would happen in the worse case scenario? How much will they scold me or beat me? By tomorrow morning won't everything be over? That decision I took that day, with half my body hanging from a moving truck was the best I took. I thank that 13 year old me for saving me.

We reached home at dinner time. The army driver knocked on the door, and upon calling he went in and gave a loud salute to my uncle, who was having dinner with houseful of family members - we usually have no less than 15 people seated at a meal.

"So you are back from Paro?" Asked my uncle,
"Yes Dasho" Army driver replied. I could hear the beat of my heart in my mouth.

"Did you reach my boy to his school?"

"No Dasho, I brought him back."

"Why?"
"He has failed, and Headmaster told him to come after Paro Tshechu."
All 15 people in the house laughed long and loud, and amidst their laughter I made my entry with a timid smile. They laughed more. And I laughed too. Someone went to pick my plate and I joined them. Nobody even scolded me.

The fear, shame and guilt were my own construction for which I nearly jumped of the truck. Over the funny dinner I thought what would have happened to this wonderful dinner if I had jumped.


After that year I never looked back. I rebuilt my "the boy who never failed" reputation at home and in village. Became the first boy from my village to qualify from class X, and from XII. Got degree, became a happy teacher and lived to write this post.

Twelve Frames of Inspiration, No Bob Marley

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

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

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

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

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

12 Frames on the Wall

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

Because My Parents Are Divorced...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twitter

Today Twitter made a big announcement, they are planning for Stock Market Listing. Who would have imagined that a website which only allows a miser 140 characters would be a big business someday. It's an inspiration for people who are chasing crazy ideas. If you want to hit big, go crazy.

Follow me @PaSsu_Diary

Who would have imagined Twitter would play an important role in a Bhutanese's life? I grew particularly interested in the success of Twitter because apart from all the learning experiences and fun I had, Twitter helped me solve a big problem yesterday. I don't want to present the case here because it won't be appropriate. But trust me without Twitter I won't have known where to begin and how to go about.

I sat on my computer the moment the problem was discovered and after over 20 Direct Messages to a tweeple I never met the problem was resolved in the most appropriate way, of course Facebook helped a bit too in providing photographs. It saved me from rushing to Thimphu and from lot of emotional drainage. Thank you so much @drukpafool for help.

The Gap Between the School and Home

No child is so bad in school. There is hardly any record of gang fights on campus, one among hundreds would dare be bold enough to smoke behind the toilet, and same bold ones would come to school on drugs and at times on alcohol. But they pay the price of daring. Rest are in their best form when they are within the school fence.
No child is so bad at home. Some might not listen to every thing their parents' demand but they won't find trouble in the bedroom. They may not study hours on stretch but nothing can go so wrong at home, even if they are watching movies or sleeping.

In the Gap. Photo Source: Flickr

It's between the school and home that every wrong thing happens. The gap that has no time limit and no supervision. From 8 AM to 3:30 PM schools will responsible. If a child is absent we call their parents. If a child wants to visit hospital we give them time frame and ask for prescriptions. But at what time do parents expect their children to reach home? Where do they go after changing? Were they really involved in school games, when they come late? Are they really going for discussing home work? Is there any birthday party at all? Which Lhakhang are they going to and with whom?
But sadly not many homes have anybody who would play that important part. Father is in archery ground and mother with her friends, father is playing cards late into night and mother's gone looking for him,... Worse, many children live with their young siblings who themselves are yet to grow up. Home like this are deeper gaps.
No child wants to go wrong, it just happens. They need help before everything goes wrong. They need help in getting them out of the gap. They have dreams, and dreams can't be achieved in those gaps. Schools are doing their role. What are homes doing?

Note: It's just a quick thought. Detailed piece will be written soon.

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.


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Tear Drops on my Chair

I have known this high school principal for sometime and have gathered a lot of regards for the man he is, the Education officers he was, and the principal he has been so far. He is known for reforming and reconstructing system into very friendly environment that every time he leaves a place people feel the emptiness he has left behind.
This time I came into close contact with him, over and over, and he spared me enough of his time to talk about his school and listen about my school, yes we were talking about students' problems and relative solutions, without ignoring the origin of the problems. It's interesting but disheartening to know that we actually have ideas about where the problems come from and how we could prevent them but there are major stakeholders who wouldn't do enough.
His few sentences touched me so much and made me think over it for days; he said, "I think I should quit this job before I make myself a merciless devil, who sits on this chair and watch parents cry for the mistakes their children committed. How many parents cried here in front of me! Those parents leave behind all the self respect for their children and beg of me to give them another chance.
"Our intention of helping the child together fails to convince the parents, they don't want to take their children home for some days and talk things out- they are backing off from the little help we are asking in helping their children. And finally when we leave them with no option they leave with bitter hearts.
"In a small society like ours I am already hurting too many people, who wouldn't understand, there are too many tear drops on my chair..."

Though enclosed within quotation marks, the words are not exact to the scale but I made sure the meaning and the intention is preserved.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

More Rejected Jobs Than Jobless Youth

There are thousands of jobs, and thousands of jobless youth. It doesn't take an economist to figure out what went wrong- these jobless youth rejected those jobs and chose to remain jobless rather. Why would a hungry man deny an offer of food? Well we still don't need an expert to figure out the answer- who would want to eat stinking food? The rejected jobs are not worth taking in all sense of the word.

Source:Jobmob

And then from our cozy offices we shun the attitude of our youth, we recite the whole document on dignity of labour but what we are ignoring is the dignity of the work. It has never been the question of indignity of labour that repelled the job-seekers from the potential jobs though many proclaim it to be. Youth were always ready to work on all fronts if only the job has enough dignity to deserve their effort. These rejected jobs in Bhutan are dirty and cheap, and still expect young ambitious children to embrace them.
Bhutanese, young and old, hold their heads high and look down upon those jobs, but most of them are dying to babysit in New York, dish wash in Amsterdam, house keep in New Brunswick, collect grapes in Queensland, and do laundry in Perth. Someone who keeps three house keepers at home doesn't mind housekeeping for someone in the west. All these prove that Bhutanese don't mind sweating, they don't mind getting their hands dirty as long as they are paid well, yes money matters. Money draws thick lines across society and it takes a life time to cross those lines. How could we expect our youth to work for a salary that is lesser than someone lunch bill? This is one thing that makes up for a dignity of work.
The other thing that gives dignity to work is the respect to the worker and his work but who gives a damn to a sweeper? Who cares what a peon thinks? Who listens to a driver? Who wouldn't shout at a security guard? Who greets a cook? Therefore who would want to work for a job where there is no respect? We don't think once before we send an elderly sweeper to buy doma or just a packet of wiz, we want our driver to open the car door for us, we want our driver to carry our shopping bag, we want our security guard to carry our baggage. In short we don't respect their job. These and many more factors make those common jobs very unattractive, and thus these jobs are rejected.
The bothering question is not that there are many unemployed youth, nor that there are many vacancies without takers, what is important is how to bring the two sides to an agreement. And I propose my suggestions.

Under 16 Nuisance in Wangdue

There were two explosions in my school earlier this month and you must be wondering if I didn't hear them. Of course I heard them and I even gave my statement to police. But I didn't want to make it public so that police could do their job at peace. But now that the news has already been reported in two papers I see no harm in writing about it.
I have nothing different to tell from the story The Bhutanese and Kuensel covered but let me run the narrative as unfolded before me. At about this time, 11:40 on March 1, I was working right here when I heard the first blast. I ran to my window and surveyed the campus. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I was lost in my works again when I heard the second blast. After spotting nothing unusual, I thought it must have been army firing at Tencholing.
Only in the morning I found out that it was right at my friend's door. But even he didn't realize it was there until morning when he found his door latched from outside. Upon opening the door he found three sheets of warning notes pasted at his door and on the school notice board. We reported it to the police and police requested army to identify the remains of explosives. They concluded that the devices used were those used in construction works.
This ordeal raised two big questions: How did the explosives land in the hands of children? How safe are teachers in doing our duties? While the first question would be answered soon by the police, the latter shall remain unanswered. This incident has sent a wave of question across the teacher community and some were talking about thinking thrice before disciplining children. Our friend, who was attacked that night, is still weighing his moral duty as a teacher against his personal safety. He was our backbone when it came to keeping the students on track but now the backbone seems to be cracked even though the Dzongkhag education officers came here to give him and all of us their support.

As the story unfolds I was shocked to hear that two boys, who were arrested after they broke into a store, were the mastermind of the March 1st blasts (Read in Kuensel). I know the two boys for last four years, and one joined our school last February. They are chronic thieves and everybody in the town knows them by their name. They can break open the best locks and find cash from the safest corners. They seem to have the database of every dweller of the town because they know who is out at what time of the day. No matter how careful you are when they walk into your shop, you will always find something missing after they are gone. One time they were caught red handed and guess what, they assaulted the house owner and escaped. They are never worried about getting arrested, as long as they could run away and enjoy the cash, because they know that once the case is gone, it's gone.
Interestingly they were caught and arrested 90% of the times and been to jail almost every week but they were released because they are under 16, which they know and are taking advantage of. If they were kept locked up Bajothang is a better place altogether but even police is helpless. Now this time they have crossed their highest limit and I hope they won't roam freely among us.
I know they are just kids, they have dreams but they are not ready to change themselves yet. They are going bigger and bolder with time and forgiveness. They must undergo so sort of special correction before releasing them back among general public. This asks for Correction Camp of young lawbreakers. A prison where classes are taken so that inmates don't lag behind when they finally come out as good citizens because we can't afford to let them walk free if they are going to keeping having fun at the expense of public security.

I Quit!

No, it's not about me, don't worry. I saw "I Quit" scribbled on the wall in Joy Lobo's room in 3 Idiots. Call me crazy for watching the movie over thirty times and still wanting to watch it, but I have learned so much from it that if I had the power I would honour 3 Idiots with  the Nobel Prize for Literature.
Joy Lobo's song became my favorite and his part in movie portrays how weak students respond to challenges. He throws his great invention in the rubbish bin and hangs himself. Imagine if he completed his project and flew his spy-chopper into Virus' office, wouldn't it justify the delay? Of course it's just a movie, and if that happened in the movie the whole charm would die away. But what Rancho does with Lobo's rubbish is something we should applaud at.

From 3 Idiots 

On the contrary, I was shocked at what I saw on the hostel wall where I went to drop my son last week. "I Quit" was written in bold right at the entrance of his hostel, and I could only hope that whoever wrote it might have written it in good humor. Otherwise, look what our kids are picking on! Of the thousand good lessons in the movie, just that thing which was meant not to play with was picked on.

Seen on Hostel Wall

Girl Who Found Her Way

These few months the news of youth going wrong never stopped taking the headlines. My month long stay in Phuntsholing gave me all the reason to worry about next generation of Bhutanese we are bringing up. From robbery to gang fights, drugs abuse to stabbing, lost of obedience to as far as homosexuality- they are leaving behind no bad stone unturned. I almost gave up all my hopes on them and just then I saw this 16 year old Yeshey Choden on Youtube, which gave me an insight into what is there beyond our eye and beyond the interest of Bhutanese media. Her magical voice and her very own lyrics held me stunned for a while. As I watch her fingers dance smoothly over the strings of her guitar I realized how guilty I was of those many assumptions.

While there are hundreds of kids who didn't find their purpose in life, and hundreds others who lost their purposes in the midst of influences but on the brighter side there are hundreds who found their way in life like Yeshey Choden. We just don't know about them because they are not put on the stage.

Update (2 Feb 2012): Yeshey Choden received an offer to sing for Yarkey Flim, on the recommendation of Bhutan Street Fashion.

Why Everything Happens in Thimphu?

Night in Thimphu,   From  bhutanmajestictravel.com   

"Why everything happens in Thimphu?" was the question I often asked, sometimes in desperation, often in frustration and at times in sadness. Wherever our works begin it has to end in Thimphu, and without going there for umpteen times nothing gets done. From wherever the buses travel the road must end in Thimphu. Every taxi seems to head to Thimphu. All the offices operates from switches in Thimphu. Businesses find Thimphu favorable. All Jobs are in Thimphu. And therefore people move to Thimphu.
At one time we were scared of Thimphu, believing that the city spoils our children but now we know that Thimphu is scared of us because our kids are spoiling the city. Everybody wants to live in the city and nobody seems to take ownership of it, nobody cares about it. It's only now that I understand Thimphu is just an innocent little town who wants its dwellers to own her as their own. But the tragedy is that everybody just wants to use it.
So many stabbings, so many robbery, so many arrests, where are we taking Thimphu? It's amazing how much money is put on helping the youth, but the most amazing of all is the amount of effort kids put in running away from the helping hands. It's natural to be naughty at certain age but our kids have gone far beyond. They have lost their respect for humanity, they are out for kill and that was the last thing we were expecting from Bhutanese youth. There are more parents in Thimphu than Police, if every parent takes care of their child the problem won't be as grave. We have to be social police.
Why are these happening in Thimphu? The answer is in the question, because everything happens in Thimphu. It's time we realize that Thimphu is not the center of the earth, let there be limit to how much it can hold. Don't we have any other place for the IT Park? Are we still going ahead with the Medical College in Thimphu?
Thank god we don't have enough space in Thimphu, otherwise someday we might consider bringing all the Dzongs to Thimphu and make a Heritage Park there. Don't just Think from Thimphu, Think for Thimphu!

Phuntsholing Youth and My Car

I was surprised when police didn't see the forest fire under the clear blue sky, but later today I was surprised no more- Phuntsholing police has too many thing to take care of. There wasn't a day I didn't see groups of youth swaying by road under the influence of some intoxicants. And today some of then crossed their limits on to my car. My poor already-injured car was peacefully parked alongside several others when a group of boys practiced their boxing skills on our side mirrors.
My wife and another car owner shouted from their windows only to get back all sorts of slang. I was in the class when my wife called me up, she informed me that the culprits were head in my direction and that I could track them down by the side of the Doti river.
The kids were totally senseless and one boy was bleeding badly from the cut he got from punching our mirrors. To my disbelieve there were two girls in same conditions making a show out of themselves on the road where hundreds were passing by. I asked myself, would I help these girls if they were raped? With the border so near, and so many warnings, I will never understand why these girls had to do this.
Three cars were broken and police was informed, the culprits were under my watchful eyes. By the time police arrived the two girls were gone- good for them, I can't imagine how their parents would feel if they were arrested. After a hard chase three boys were brought down, and thanks to them I got my mirror broken and now I have to waste my afternoon in police station giving statements.
The very moment I saw the mother of the bleeding boy my heart broke. I wished if the boy spared some of the money invested in his fashionable clothes on his mother's clothing too. Her pitiable condition and her begging eyes melted my anger into sorry. All three of us soon withdrew our case, which was to be done in writing. I went to the boy and requested him, "Please, never do anything that may bring your mother to police station- this is the last place they want to be.  We are withdrawing the case not because your crime is minor but because your mother has to take the punishment. She doesn't deserve this."
Other two parents looked ok but all their self esteem faded as they entered the office and they were literally on our feet. They may be some respectable people but thanks to their kids they had to bow to their knees before us.
Please watch where you kids are going and what they are doing during the holidays.

Selling Books in Wangdue- Nothing business about it!

If selling books were as easy as selling beer I wouldn't have chosen to sell Yeewong Magazine and Student Digest in Wangdue. And I am ready to accept any proposal to sell Bhutanese books here. I am a busy teacher and also forbidden to do business but I am a literature lover more and there is nothing business in what I am doing.

Student Digest on Sale!

Bajo town though merely born yet, has over 50 shops selling alcohol. If you don't find a bar in every next building, you win a lunch from me at Hotel Phuensum- well they sell alcohol too. On the contrary, if you find one shop that sells books in Bajo Town I bet you a copy each of Yeewong and Sutdent Digest. I am already sorry!
The adventure of selling books is something like the journey to Mt Everest- hardly possible. People have lots of excuses when it comes to buying books but I have way around each excuse. It is irritating, humiliating, saddening, and less often exciting. Many talk straight about my commission, that which but goes in travelling around and I don't mind forgoing it as long as I can spread the books in every corner of Wangdue Dzongkhag. I want to do business which gives me more satisfaction than money.

My wife runs a shop that entertains children with Play station games, computer games and internet. We chose to do this business even after known that our costumers are the generation with no money in their hand. While the whole town is madly busy intoxicating adults and drawing huge cash we are patiently enlightening children and exciting them on their crumbled changes. There is nothing business about this either.
Two magazines have already made it to our shelf and we are willing to accept more as long as it goes on to educate a child- anything for youth. If parents don't want their children to swim in rivers, get into fights, do drugs, drink alcohol,... put some cash in their hand and bring them to KPS- buy them books, let them Google, and let them see what it feels like to be Ben 10, after all a Students Digest cost less then a bottle of beer, and if your sacrifice another bottle your child can enjoy hours of gaming and surfing!

Which Gang should I register my Son with?

On New Year’s Day my son got robbed in Jaigon amidst the crowd. His beloved mobile phone and some cash were snatched away by a group of Indian Nepali boys. The first question they asked him was, “Are you a member of MB Boys?” MB boys, I heard, is a gang in Phuntsholing with over hundred members. They are in permanent state of war with the Indian boys ever since the murder of an Indian boy in Bhutanese soil. And today, despite strong indo-Bhutan friendship, no Bhutanese youth can walk safely across the border, unless in groups or with elders.

For once I wished my boy was with that gang; they would have given him protection and he wouldn’t have to undergo the traumatic experience. But that’s soon forgotten as we packed our bags and headed home.

But that was just the tip of an ice berg of what is happening in our towns.  Wangdue is now seeing strange faces and deadly group names, which only mean gangs are growing here at home too. I heard of some gang leaders from Thimphu visiting Wangdue to register members; they seem to have registration form, fee, interview, and other formalities in place. And as a concerned father I am seriously wondering which gang I should register my son with, because I don’t want my son to be a victim of all the gangs. He may need protection even as he walks to school. He has already seen the weakness of being a good boy.