At least once a year every bhutanese would bathe

We nearly had Thrulbub slashed of our calendar, which would leave no guarantee that all the Bhutanese would bathe once every year. It was a pleasant surprise when I heard the announcement that this year government is declaring it back, realizing the importance of hygiene.
I was explaining to my Indian friend about the day and he thought I was joking when I said that on Thrul the rivers are all blessed and therefore cannot be consumed. I explained that since most of us are bathing for the first time in the year and all our yearlong savings go down to river...

I took my family for swimming. My wife won't swim and I can't therefore it was fun watching my brother and son drive in the half-filled swimming pool. I couldn't resist after sometime and gave in to my temptation. Lucky some kids have  come with tubes. However I could not come out of the pool without having one two gulps of the blessed water; kids spit and pee in there, oh so blessed. Today I am a sick man now.

Now I am Allowed to Drive My Own Car

Last Sunday saw me in extremely different colors. Even Saturday gave me a sleepless night. I have been driving for last four months, cross my fingers, I didn't give chance for even a scratch. Over this period I have traveled to Ha, Paro and Thimphu with full confidence. But with all the confidence in tact I still panicked over the idea of going for driving test.
Until I bought my car driving was almost alien to me. My cousins have cars, my uncles and aunties have too but for the unfortunate fact that my parents don't have I am deprived of even sitting in the driver's seat of their cars. I never thought I could drive someday.
Before I decided to buy my car I already registered for my learner license. I have to be six months old in possession of the learner license before I could sit for the test, but I was told that if the blue book (ha ha blue book is green) is registered in my name I could be considered for the test just in three months, but you know I have test phobia.
The last time I registered, it was about the right time in all sense; my learner license was six months old and I was more experienced. But experience on the road is nowhere similar to that in the stupid box; god knows why they are testing us in there. So last Saturday I drove to the same spot where they would test us and did my practice. It was not so bad after all. All I had to do was to memorize the marks in the box; where to stop, where to start turning, where so and so. I was told that it's impossible to pass the test in Santro but after my practice I disagreed.
Seeing me worried, my neighbor angay shared her piece of mind, "The car is yours and the road belongs to the country, why in the world do you have to sit for the test and pay for the permission to drive your own car?" How true! I began to ponder over it and it still sounded true. Will there be an answer to this question?
Sleepless Saturday and an appetite-less Sunday morning made me sick. My wife went with me as a lucky charm. I sat for the written test; I already got several questions from outside from those who already sat it. There were 20 multiple choice question of 40 marks of which 24 is the pass mark, in schools it would be 16. Well I think I scored cent percent because I opened the learner license and referred to it, I don't know if it is even allowed; nobody stopped me anyway.
Then came my turn to enter the box, I looked at my lucky charm and saw her more worried than me but she has counted on me since she saw me do well during the practice session. The front-in-front-out was done like a professional but the back-in-back-out nearly got me in trouble. I was drenched in sweat by the time I came out successfully. The whole Sunday I kept smiling, called up so many people of which my mother was the first.
So, from last Sunday I am given the permission to drive my own car, ha ha ha..

On My Brother Tenzin's Birthday...

We are unfortunate no more, we can celebrate birthdays now. There were times we thought birthday celebration was a luxury. I didn't even know my birthday until I was in high school; I did some maths then and found it out approximately. I have been in many of our cousins' birthday parties envying the lavish expenses and the gifts, but my birthday was often forgotten. I was never wished nor gifted on my birthday, which made me cry on every birthday I let go in hostels.
Today is your birthday; probably you did some maths too. You used to tell me that your birthday falls on 15th August; anyway it doesn't matter when. It has to be a day in the year which reminds us that a year has passed by. You took sweets for your friends in school and as you give them, greetings will rain on you. That's when you will realize how important you are. In hostel, I would hardly have money but I made sure I save enough to purchase a packet of sweet just to get some friends to greet me, for no one would otherwise remember.
This is the first years in our lives we have been together for the whole year. Thus we are together on my birthday and yours too for the first time. This inspires me to write a few lines in my online diary hoping you would learn about it some day. There are many things about you that I share with my friends, which I want to write here knowing someday you would read like a piece of legend.
 When you were born I was already eight and away from home. We were together only during the winters but to my surprise you could remember all the detail account from our childhood. You could remember many things from my childhood that I can't and that makes me feel that you have a better brain than mine.
You were a boy born with a stone in your hand. I wonder how you have done but so many neighbors came banging on our door because you have stoned their children. It is hard to keep track of you unless you cried. You roar when you cried drawing my attention and me. I have fought for you hundreds of times regardless of your faults.
But I still remember the day I fought a big guy who tossed me left and right, you were just about four and Samtey could be eight. When you knew I was losing you ran home crying with Samtey. By then I was crying too and still fighting with dozens of men watching in pleasure. I thought I was going to be killed if I don't run away, but my pride as a fighter held me back. Just then the two of you appeared, Samtey was with a kitchen knife and you were holding a spoon. The two of you were too tiny to scare him away but I felt so secure though I lost that fight.
Tenzin, people in our village hated you as much as they hated me. We have been naughty beyond limits and have been the don of playground in our own times, unlike Samtey who was good all along. During my reign of the playground I didn't cause damage to myself so much as you did to yourself during your rule. You fell from the veranda countless times, you fell from roof of the gate twice, and in both these incidents you bled so much causing lot of damage to your face. But the most damage was done when you jumped from one wall to another of a ruined house. You missed your step and hit your mouth on the other wall breaking four teeth along with the gum. We found two of your broken teeth from inside of your swollen lips. You looked very ugly and cute then. Your lips never regained it actual shape nor your tiny teeth. The four teeth in front were replaced by two big ugly teeth. That was no the end, I know you remember why your ring finger has that odd form; you have sliced it into two. After stitching the shape looked funny, I thought it would come back to normal with time but where? It really looks like a phallus.
Thank god you grew up so fast, a few more years and you would have distorted whole your physical form.
One thing that made me a better Acho is a story from our childhood too. You and Samten are home and I was away in hostel. When I return home on vacations two of you would always have something to give me, a new shirt or a sock or a pen that someone had given you. When I ask why you did not use them yourselves, you would say it doesn't matter to you in village and that I should have it since I go amidst new people in new places. I know how seldom we get to own new things in our childhood but two of you were always happy wearing the rags as long as I am well dressed. I still wonder how big a heart god has put into your tiny chests.
Now you are growing pimples and must be worried about it. It will disappear over time, don’t worry. But over time you have changed too; the hyperactive Tenzin is lost into a silent loner. I am worried you are missing the brighter side of boyhood. The intelligent Tenzin is lost into a careless and dull boy who gives excuses for failing in multiple subjects. I remember how you would solve mathematical problems from you finger tips and the smelly toes shown from you torn socks. Change is good but you have choices, be objective about the road you choose.
You quite well know me, I haven’t been the best of students either but I have always known my responsibility as brother and as a son. Though a young boy, I have seen appreciation in your eyes when I walked home with a TV set bought from my little apprentice salary, I have heard how you praised me to your friends when I brought how new sets of plates and mugs from my temporary job wages. Those were the times I struggled along with thousands in the job market; in such times people lose their nerve and do drugs and drink and try to be happy. But I always remembered you all at home and kept myself intact.
When people of my age were wasting their youth in drugs I was working in a construction of a bridge as a labor, and when they were still wasting their life I was choosing new clothes for you. Life paid me well for my dedication and now I am a teacher with a respectable life.
Now you are about that age and today on your birthday I am writing you this note just to let you know that you will never have to work for a construction site nor you should worry about buying any thing for home because I have made it all set. All you have to do now is to know that your life is a gift and prepare yourself enough to be capable of cherishing it. Make us proud by being the best that you are capable of. I will be the happiest man when I see you lead a comfortable life.

Sleeping on the Wall

My friend CK Gurung (I call him my friend but he was a teacher of someof my teachers) is not so lazy when it comes to his work but you should not be suprised if you see him sleeping on the wall with the whole school singing the national anthem beside him.

My Forbidden Arm- an inerasable repentance

I read this news of a Russian girl with 54 stars tattooed on her face; thank god I have it on my arms. But mine are not ordinary arms that could be hidden under the sleeves of my shirts; mine are a teacher’s arms that are meant to lead.

I still feel the pricking pleasure of the needle pecking my skin ten years ago, the joy of having it done, and the pride of showing it off. Then I didn’t know my future. Life had this respectable future set aside in a surprise box and didn’t even give me a clue of what I deserved to be.

Three years as teacher now, I can no more hide my arm from the thousand curious eyes. My childhood pleasure has taken a sharp turn-It has given me a forbidden arms.

My wife always insists that I should wear a full sleeve shirt or a jacket while we have guest or while going out. She justifies that she does not want people to get an impression of me just by my tattooed arms. Irritated, sometimes I cry out to her, “I don’t care what people think of me .Those who know me don’t care about the tattoo”. But at back of my mind I realize that it matters. Bhutan is still innocent and tattoo still contradicts it culture.

When I look at my left arm filled with tattoo I laugh at how stupid I had been. As a young boy being naughty is unavoidable, which as we grow time forgives .But what have I done? Even time is helpless. Had I written on a stone “I am Naughty” I could have sand it off but I have done it on my skins, to last so long as I live.

The Russian girl has sued the tattooist for £10,000. Whom shall I sue? My stupidity? My childhood? I am undergoing a non-bail-able sentence of my own trial. There exists some laser technology to remove tattoo in developed countries which is but too far and too expensive. The Russian girl will have to pay $10,000 to undergo the surgery, which is equivalent to my seven years’ salary.

My students stare at my arms in sheer curiosity and pleasure. I can’t hide it completely from them. They are not disgusted by my tattoo and that gives me added fear. Students learn from what a teacher does far more than what he says. I am afraid I may have to go on paying higher price for a silly boyhood pleasure.

My schooldays friends loved my tattoo, they would ask me to do for them too. I had tattooed so many of them. They were happy and would take me on lavish treats. Time has changed me and so must my friends, they must hate me now, but I know I am paying the heaviest price. I am a teacher. My friends here pass different comments on different days on the same tattoo and I have nothing to defend myself but some word of apology. The same apology goes to everybody who would ever see me with my tattoo.

Inspirational View

Look at what I see from my veranda. What more inspiration do I want to relax and write master pieces.

This view is from the back side of my house, which totally contradicts the front side view with all the parking problem, drunkards, constructions, garbage problem, potholes and dusty wind.

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.

I am on Tshering Tobgay's Blog

Opposition Leader Tshering Tobgay keeps a blog, of course everybody knows it, but I knew it somewhere in May this year. I had 12 blogs since 2006, and never thought I would go crazy over them some day. Only when I started reading Tshering Tobgay's blog regularly I came to know that there are lots of Bhutanese blogger. Some of them were featured on his blogs ever since. When you read my blog you will see that only this year I have taken it seriously. All thanks to the man. He has great duties to fulfill for our country yet I am amazed by his thoughtfulness in taking time out and inspiring us by featuring new comers and not-so-common blogger on his widely-read blog.
This time it's me with some friends and I am humbled when I saw my picture there. Thank you so much for motivating me. I will make your effort worthwhile.

Bhutan Window- did you buy one?

You did it, Bhutan Today! For those of you who didn't know yet Bhutan Window is the inaugural issue of Bhutan Today’s seasonal magazine. I am reading it now. I never left any book I read un-reviewed therefore I shall give my piece of mind on this in my later post. For now I am going to review the Bhutanese mindset on Bhutanese books.

That shop in Wangdue town must hate me for coming every evening asking the same thing, “Did the magazine arrive?” perhaps I must have inspired her, now she has it on her shelf. However, Having it on the shelf is one thing and collecting dust on the shelf is another.

The editor of the magazine is a good friend of mine and I am given to sell some copies for him. But I didn’t know I would have to beg some buyers before they could open their purse for Nu.90. They just look at the thickness of the book and compare with the cost. I have to tell them that it is not telephone directory. Some scream at the price. But there are a golden few who brighten up instantly and embrace it.

I once visited DSB books shop, where I am told my teacher Karma Padey’s book Ta She Ga Cha- Broken Saddle is the best seller. Curious, I asked how much they sold. I didn’t imagine a million though but I did put my guess at about a hundred thousand copies before he could answer- four hundred!

There are just a countable many Bhutanese books in the market, mostly self-published out of sheer love for writing ( I am proud to tell that I have a copy each of every one of them), and many good stories are still residing in the hard disk of some computers. Who will publish them? Why even publish them? After all who will buy them?

Some of us cannot read at all, some of us would not read, some of us cannot buy, some of us would not buy, some of us can read and also buy but like borrowing more, only a precious some of us buy and read. If at all many of us will buy Bhutanese books, then many publishers will come up to give break to many writers and among the many writers we might come across great writers. Actually it is simple, it starts with you; did you buy a copy of Bhutan Window? Look at Bhutan Time’s Bhutan Now magazine, it’s now never. Let’s save Bhutan Window. Let’s make it a point to buy a copy of each Bhutanese book in the market, for diamonds are found in rock and only a million rocks gives out a diamond.

Singaproean Curry- I can like it!

It's been over six months now and Mr. Kong Ming is still having hard time finding "eatable" food in Bhutan. He has been to restaurants that serve Chinese food to find Bhutanese versions. I have taken him to best hotels in the town just to displease him at the end. Many friends invited him for dinner and no one could impress him enough, just because he is as honest as one could be. But how much ever honest he may be I am worried he will go back home a skeleton.

May be it's not the same with all Singaporeans, but Kong likes less sugar, less salt and less oil in everything he eats. Where would he find such food in here? Wherever he goes he is treated as special guest and thus served with best tea and best dishes- and you know what we call the best! Come on he even finds Pepsi and Coca Cola too sweet to consume. Mineral Water alone keeps him alive.

Kong likes food at my place, wait, wait I mean it. He would drop in every evening, as long as he is in our school, for dinner. My wife can cook the food he likes. Actually it is simple, just cook something really bad, something you would usually serve an ulcer or diabetic patient. He says "I am not crazy about food", but I find him crazy!

Well this time he brought a packet of soup sent to him right from Singapore. Of course it is like the "stone soup" story. You require pork ribs. The soup is boiled and the ribs are added in it to be cooked for 30 mins. Then ready! He lend his hand in preparing and so sweetly he did the serving that night. He ate like hell. I liked it too. I mean I can like it!