Showing posts with label My Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Family. Show all posts

26 December 2020

Drawing my Family Tree During the Lockdown

 One of the few satisfying things I have done during the last lockdown was working on my family tree. It was one project my cousin and I planned to do a few years ago but we neither had the time nor the expertise to get that done. The very thought of putting together the details of so many people on a sheet of paper overwhelmed me. 

It may sound petty but I was wondering how many A4 papers I would have to stitch together until I could get all the names up. I was even considering a wall to stick all the names. But deep down I had a strong feeling that there should be some software to create a family tree. It seemed like a big task and we pushed it aside. 

The Black and White Picture
Babu Dorji Tshering

One day, my Asha sent me a black and white picture and said the man in the picture was my great-grandfather. He suggested that we traced our bloodline as far back as possible. This was the second time someone in my family proposed to draw our family tree. This time the black and white picture was truly inspiring. I began looking for software and landed an online site called Family Echo, which was free, powerful and easy to use.

A small part of My Family Tree created using Family Echo

I began working on what seemed like a massive project, but within a few days, I had run out of people. Family Echo helped me organize everything in one small window and make all the complex mapping as I move from one generation to another. The exercise gave opportunities to call older member in the family and dig deeper into their memories. Some of them we so touched that we were doing it and that we reached out to them. 

My Angay and Late Jojo whose name was Angay


As the family tree grew bigger I had the option to invite people in the list to contribute to expanding the tree. This has connected and reconnected many of my cousins. It has helped solve a few confusions I had and gave me lots of surprised when it comes to discovering how I was related to a lot of people I grew up with without knowing that we were from the same bloodline. 

My Mother

I have traced 167 people across 8 generations of my family, five backwards and two downward after me. Before this exercise I could not even name my grandmothers, now I at least know the name of my great-great-great-grandfather. His name was Dumcho Tandi. And the man in the black and white picture was Babu Dorji Tshering, my great-grandfather. It's quite an irony that there was a camera in his time, and there is not a picture from my childhood. 

14 October 2015

My Stepfather

(Good people in my life-II)

“Does your stepfather treat you well?”
“You should hit him on the head when he is asleep.”
“Why don’t you go and live with your ani?”

Some people in my village diligently let me know that the man in my family was not my father, and that he would treat me bad. I was only over three years old to understand anything but they made me into a suspicious little boy. It was their usual rustic way of having fun; teaching me all the tricks to challenge my stepfather.
I would happily report to them, “He is scared of me.” Because my stepfather wouldn’t hurt a fly I really thought he was rather scared of me. I wish they had taught something good, or just nothing at all, so I would have thought he was my father or at least as someone who wouldn’t hurt me. I regret having never called him apa. I didn’t even call him aku. I would call him by his name until I was much older.

His real name was Phub Tshewang, which only our grandmother fancied, rest called him Aatsho. A serious infection in his childhood had left him limping. He was a natural introvert who mostly had nothing to say. But he had another dimension to him through which he was capable of expressing himself; he was a man of many skills.

He was homeschooled by his tyrant father who taught him religious scriptures, tailoring, carpentry, and the art of making torma. This set of skills made him one of the most sort-after persons in the village. Perhaps he must have been the only person in the village with such versatility, a man who was useful across all seasons.

Though his earnings kept us well fed in the village, we have had difficult times meeting my school expenses when I grew up enough to need a pair of leather shoes and sports shoes simultaneously. In village we all wore those greenish Chinese canvas shoes, which came for Nu.120, but he understood I couldn’t take those to school. One evening he returned from the town with a pair of sport shoes for me worth Nu.700. It broke my heart, because that was a lot of money in the village and I knew how hard he toiled to save so much, but those were the moment that helped me become a responsible youth. I gingerly wore the shoes for many years.

When I reached high school he started communicated with me more, more than to anybody in his entire life. One evening when he didn’t return from woods, we were so worried at home. We had even planned to go searching for him if only we knew which direction he went to because he wouldn’t tell anyone. He didn’t need company. After dark when he finally returned appearing so casual and took his place near the fire, my mother shouted at him for not informing us about the late arrival. He gave a few words explanation. After she went to bed he quietly called me and showed me his leg. He was in extreme pain. His axe slipped of a log and hit his already limping leg and left a deep gaping wound. He lost much blood. Though freaked out, I carefully nursed his wound and put him to bed. He told to keep it between us. Since then there were lots of things that were kept between just the two of us.

When I had my first girlfriend I showed him her picture and told him everything about her but he laughed at the picture and told me she looked like a sick horse because she was thin and fair. He rather had another girl on his mind for me, a huge wrestler like girl in the neighbourhood. I laughed at his choice too. We were gradually beginning to understand each other.

But he never let me or my brothers touch his tools. He didn’t pass down any of his arts to us. He never wanted us to learn his arts and live his life. He always told us that life would be easier if we rather went to school and used books as our tools. All three sons in the family grew without any of his skills, but his bigger plan worked. We all completed our schooling.

When I was in college first year he came to meet me with some stuff my mother had sent. He had sent a boy to call me behind the college building, thinking I would be embarrassed if he came limping in front of my friends. His shyness and being a loner must have been because of his disability. But I couldn’t be bothered; I took him around and show him my college. I saw pride beaming in his eyes as he scanned the Dzong-like structure of my college.

One of the first things I was going to do after I began earning was to take my stepfather for treatment and give him the comfort of walking without having to limp and wear any kind of shoes. But just one year short of my graduation he passed away. He must have suffered for a long time but he never disclosed it to my mother, if only I was around he would have told me and I would have taken him to hospital on time. He rather went to his mother’s place and died peacefully. More than ten years have passed since but I still couldn’t fully overcome his death. I live the regrets that he never truly knew how I felt about him, I had only begun to open up with him and he left. 

A few years after his death I became a stepfather myself and that’s when I found a new purpose in life and that’s when I found him again in my stepson. Over the years I realised that the best thing my stepfather taught me was the delicate art of being a good stepfather. Jigme was a much better stepson than I had ever been; he knew I was his stepfather yet called me dad. Our affection flowed naturally; stepson to stepson.

Some good people never cease to love you and guide you, not even after their death. 

26 August 2015

My Favourite Mushroom

I couldn't gather the english name of my favourite mushroom despite trying two very authentic mushroom websites. In Haa we call it Chenpo Shamo, literally translating to Liver Mushroom. The local name apparently is derived from the size, color and taste because the mushroom looks and taste like one. However it has sharp odour, which many people won't find pleasant. Perhaps that's why it's not very popular though it's said to have high medicinal values. 

If you are an amateur mushroom picker you wouldn't spare a second glance at it because it's huge, ugly and stinky but if I saw it I would dance three time in extreme joy. 
Chenpo Shamo from Home
My love for this mushroom is inherited from my mother among many. When I go home in summers her grandest way of welcoming me is by keeping stock of this mushroom. Nice neighbours would bring along some when they get it knowing how much we love it. 

This summer my mother wasn't very lucky with this mushroom but she has managed to barter two pieces with the neighbour and sent it to me. It was packed in a carton box and as I opened it the scent filled my room. It thrilled me. It was kind of scent that evoked so many memories from village, like certain music does. Recently my cousin visited me from village and even she brought me few pieces. I have sliced it and sun dried it for future consumption. Because this mushroom comes back alive when soaked in water. 

There are various recipes you can try with this mushroom but nothing beats ezay
Roast the mushroom lightly, 
Slice it into thin pieces, 
Add chilli powder and finish it with few pinches of thingay

If that bitterish liverly taste don't knock you down, tell me! 
Chenpo Shamo Ezay

01 October 2014

Ninzi's First Stage Performace

Ninzi was mentioning about dance practice in her school for about a month and I thought it would be like 'rain rain go away' or 'tinkle tinkle little star' but we grew excited when we were told that she has to buy dress set for her show. Show? yes they were to squeeze in their one dance into Tencholing Pry School's annual concert.

The Team- Her first classmates


Kezang told me that our daughter could really make the dance moves, but she won't show it in front of me at all. So the suspense and the excitement built on to the 26th Sept 2014. It was the show time, I had the full day with her and we took her to her school for dressing and makeup. Kezang landed up doing makeup for all the little girls there.
The Dancer and the Makeup Artist

Getting ready
Then they were taken in their school bus and we drove separately to Tencholing. Her program was seventh on the list. When the curtains opened on item number seven my heart stop for a while. I could see my daughter was trying to locate us in the houseful crowd. When she found us she gave a very shy smile and her hand played nervously with her rachu. That was the cutest thing I ever saw.

When the music began my daughter is a different person altogether. I don't know if I am being unfairly favouring my own child but I couldn't take my eyes of her, because she was the one who was flowing with the music in perfect sync. The maturity and grace in her moves set her apart from the rest of her classmates. My four year old was in total control of the choreography, and I will never understand how her teachers succeeded in choreographing my daughter so beautifully considering how difficult it is to get things done of her at home. Many thanks to her first school, and her first set of teachers for this heartwarming experience and unforgettable memory.

As of now I must have watched the movie over a dozen times but I am not done.



28 September 2014

Seven Years in Bajothang

September 25, 2014 was officially my last day in Bajothang. This day was never in my plan. Infact I didn't have a plan beyond Bajothang. This just happened suddenly. I wouldn't have left this place for anything, but sometimes we have to make important choices, choices that are more than places and people, choices that are dream come true.
The Last Shot of the Beautiful Place I am leaving behind
I never thought I would spend seven years away from home, and gradually begin to call that strange place my new home but I think Bajothang was written in my destiny. Perhaps it was written for seven years. The seven defining years- the seven years that made me a happy teacher, husband, and father.

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

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

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

I hope I will find time to return to this place and finish two last projects I have begun here: The Museum in the School and Book Cafe in the town.
Rushing up to meet my personal deadline 
Finishing Touch to the center piece...

It's Almost Ready. 

16 March 2014

Thank You For The Free Advice

Tonight I met a man at Karaoke Bar who gave me free advice. He sounded like a senior officer, which I found out he was. He approached me gently after I finished singing a duet with my wife and said, "I hope you don't mind me saying-"

I thought he didn't like my voice. My daughter wanted to sit on my lap, I adjusted her comfortably and extended my neck to let him finish. He continued, "I hope you don't mind me saying, you should not bring your daughter to such place. You know, it will impact her mentality. Please don't mind me saying this."
I replied even gently, " Not at all sir, in fact I thank you for your kindness. Any sensible person would say the same about it. I will try not to do that again."

If he could recollect it he said the same to me last year but I am such a bad father that I brought her again. Well I take my daughter along with my wife everywhere I go. They have been to all the places I have ever been to- workshop in Phuntsholing, meeting in Thimphu, Picnic in Gelephu, interview in Paro, lochay in Haa, outing by the river, hiking by the hills, hangout in Karaoke...

I am a young father and I don't want to waste any time away from my family, I have chosen my wife over any women I ever met with the promise that I will be with her and love her the best. Two of us decided to have our daughter out of our love and give her our everything. We are very excited parents, we are trying to give her everything. Yes we have read a lot about child raising but we have also seen the world of reality to agree to so many good things written in books. So we decided to raise our child in our own way to see if she goes wrong after all the love we gave. After all I haven't seen a perfectly raised child living a perfect life, I rather read so much about great people who had terrible childhood.

Let me be with her when I can- whenever, wherever!
Two of us are selfishly forcing our daughter to be with us every moment possible. We want to see her every moment, to hear every word she utters and to see every move she makes. If tomorrow something happens to us she should know we were with her when we could.

See,
I was a good son who loved his mother dearly but I went to hostel all my life. If I calculate I would have been with my mother for only five year in total including the hours we were asleep. Eight years ago I got married and I also got employed, then I belonged to my wife and my job. This will happen between our daughter and us. If everything goes well our daughter belongs to us for twenty years, and twenty years is too short to give her all the love we have. We want to give it every day.

But every now and then when I take my daughter to Karaoke I had that fear of someone kindly coming over and telling me about how bad it is to bring my daughter there- someone who must have read some western books on parenting. This happened tonight. I know he is being very professional, sensible, and doing his social duty as an elder. And I know many of you reading this will find him on the right.

But if you were in that room looking around like I did you would find many couples without their children, many fathers with young girls, some mothers with other's husbands and many drunk youth- whom I supposed didn't go to karaoke with their parents when they were young- now tell me how wrong am I in bringing my wife and daughter to celebrate our weekend?

Dasho, Stop drinking, go home and be by your family. Weekend is for family because all week your were in office and your kids in school. By the way, that girl could be your daughter's age.
Ocean is deep and salty, but I took her there too.


02 February 2014

Friends across Border

After a month long vacation in Gelephu, I am left with no more appetite for fun in Phuntsholing. It's time to relax and retune my mood back to normal mode because in few days I will be back in school. It's already my fourth day in Phuntsholing but I haven't seen anything here yet, perhaps I don't want to go out like I used to do. I wouldn't even be stopping here for so long if Friday wasn't a holiday. It cost me three more days to wait for Monday to visit one office here.

Waiting seems to make days last longer. Thank god we are offered a nice suite room to complete our holiday in south. So in between endless sleeping and television shows I am working on the wonderful host's design works, from logo to signboard, website to Facebook Page for the hotel.

And like an annual ritual I visited my friend Bikash in supermarket. We met some seven years ago. On the first day of his clothing business we met and the following year when I went to meet him he was more than happy to see me. He said his business is booming, he already owned two shops and supplied to other shops as well. He said we were his lucky charm. So this lucky charm goes to meet him every year.
Bikash- Seven Years of Friendship
Another friend I made over the years was Amit Kumar. I know him for five years now. He brought Gola to Jaigoan from Mumbai. He would always ask about my family and send us message through common friends. He has hundreds of Bhutanese friends but when I meet him he will always make me feel like I am his best friend. He and other momo guys are moved from their regular location and are currently operating near Hanuman temple. They are fighting to come back.
I suggested him to visit Thimphu and other places across Bhutan during festivals and he liked the idea.

Ninzi with Amit's Gola, and Amit is Standing behind her!

07 January 2014

Journey to Southern Bhutan

I have discovered that I am a very bad traveller, worse when I have to drive myself. I feel very exhausted at the very thought of driving, I almost fall sick the day before travelling. My wife adds to this by packing stuffs two days ahead of the journey and reminding me about it by reconfirming about everything that's there in our luggage- I land up unpacking and repacking everything just to reassure her. She makes me wash our car, refuel the tank, check the engine, brake, tyres,... 

But there something about this journey that made me feel very excited. I washed my car without her orders, and did everything that she would ask me to do even before she could think of them. I even asked for something extra to her surprise- to take tea for the road. Because it's my maiden journey to Gelephu through Tsirang, I have always wanted to visit Tsirang and I also have an unfinished quest for Gelephu. My first visit to Gelephu some years ago left a very bad impression, I was sick throughout the ten days I spent there and this time I want to even the account and forgive Gelephu with a beautiful experience.

I learned that I had to keep a comfortable six hours in hand to make to Gelephu before 5PM curfew on Sarpang Gelephu highway. I made some calculation and left myself enough time to stop for tea and photography. 

We made a cozy bed on the back seat for daughter so that she can sleep comfortable when she get tired without bother us. She does that always. Kezang had travelled that road before, but it was too before that she hardly remembers anything. So that made the journey double exciting. I felt sorry for my daughter who could enjoy the new road. She slept.

The road from Wangdue to Wakleytar Bridge is almost like travelling through India, with lots of Indian presence. The Punatshangchu construction madness is very heavy but there are occasional smoothness on the road that is even better than the best road in Thimphu. The project has changed the entire geography of the place, and at two points on the way we could see the giant river disappear into the hills. The river bed was full of activity.
The Lost River
The bridges on the Wangdue-Tsirang highway are something to marvel, they are very soothing to eyes and their strength is evident from the freshness the concrete work has maintained. After all it's built by Japanese!
View Point: Dagana Road on the other side
Tsirang road diverts from Dagana road somewhere near Sunkosh, well Punatshangchu changes its name from here on. The brave river is here on called Sunkosh. The road to Tsirang is all uphill through the paddies and orange trees. I woke up my daughter to show her where the oranges grow. Somewhere on the top we meet a chorten from where we get the panoramic view of the Dagana road, Sunkosh and endless hills.
The View Point
We stopped in Damphu Bazar. I had to literally put my foot on the ground to reassure that I have covered one more Dzongkhag. Kezang bought a bottle of native honey. Infact everything is very native in Tsirang. The cozy cottages along the road, the goats in the paddies, the smell of gungudru everything tells stories of the originality of the place. The influence from outside dzongkhag has not changed anything in Tsirang.

Damphu Bazar
The descending road to Sarpang after Tsirang is already lonely and the fog makes is even more melancholic. It feels so much like Gedu. It's only when we close on to Sarpang that we see the sun again, my northern root has always given me special curiosity for everything in the south. I love the plains and the broad leaf trees.


Gate to Sarpang 
Sarpang town disappointed my expectations of it, it's very small, dusty and unevolved. It's too small for all the problems it faced. We stopped for a very satisfying southern Bhutanese lunch in Sharpa Restaurant- how could I resist mutton curry with raw onion on a big plate. Out of curiosity I asked about the kidnap story and the victim happens to be the son of the hotel owner. She showed the place where it happened and how they disappeared. None of the adults were home that fateful day. The boy is now home and doing well after initial shock.
Sharpa Restaurant in Sarpang Town 
Saprang town ends at security gate which is surrounded by tree laden with Honey combs. Every tree around that place has at least 50 huge combs hanging with juicy honey, and I was told that no one harvests them. Such a waste of nature's resource.
Honey Tree in Sarpang
The road between Sarpang and Gelephu gives you the rare opportunity to try the 5th gear on my old car. The much feared road, where stories of kidnaps are often heard, turned out to be a wonderful experience. Within half an hour we were in Gelephu, and just like any Bhutanese the first thing we did was to cross the Bhutan Gate to feel the air in Assam. Kezang went out for shopping and while I waited I saw some scribbling on the pillars: WE WANT SEPARATE BODOLAND. But it wasn't quite readable which must be the reason why their voice is still not heard. I wasn't feeling very secure there, as soon as Kezang came back I drove back to my safe country.

Assam, the denied Bodoland






11 December 2013

A Boto to Remember 11.12.13

People say 11.12.13 is a special date and I don't let go such dates pass by without doing something special to mark it. But today I wasn't able to do anything different because I was deployed on exam duty to Punakha. However, when I reached home by afternoon I heard my daughter crying from inside. I froze there for a while, I have this biological inability to react quickly. She has fallen off our bed, she seemed to have jumped in excitement when she heard me coming and landed on her forehead. This is not the first time she fell but the swelling of that size was new to her. She cried badly, and cried worst when we tried to apply ice pack. She always hated ice pack. She only loves ice in her mouth in the form of ice cream.
Ninzi with Boto
I took her to the mirror and showed her new face with the boto and she laughed. We laughed for quite sometime and it helped in healing my broken heart. Now I know why parents age sooner. Children fall and rise but every time they fall a piece of parents' heart is broken.

She asked, "Apa, will this boto go away?" almost crying.

03 December 2013

Born in November

My Daughter Ninzi is born in November, yes right at the end of November, which makes her one of the youngest four year old this year. November is a special month for Bhutanese because of November Eleven, birth month of a great king in our history. End of November is even more special because it's the beginning of long holiday and when my daughter entered this world at this time in 2009, by right I would have only five official days of paternity leave to dedicate to my newborn but because there was nothing important to do in the school her father got all the time in the world to spend with her. That was the good part of being born in November.
Now, the bad part of being born at the end of the year is that you get your age only at the end of the year, which makes your younger than everybody born in the same year. Being younger or older shouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for the school admission policy. Admission in PP requires the child to be 6 years of age which means a child born in 2009 should be going to school in 2015, but my daughter will be eligible only in 2016.

I know one year night not make a difference, but if you have noticed, kids of this generation are unusually brilliant. My daughter, like many children of her age, is already ready for school. In fact if you give them the standard PP test they will easily pass it. Then what's the logic in holding them back till 6? What will my daughter do for the next three years at home?

Can something be done with school admission policy? Because things have changed so much over the years. Or should I, like many parents, do something with my daughter birth certificate? In my school, I have noticed that most of the students in class ten are between 14 to 16, which means they began school at 3 to 5. How did they do that?

My friend Ugyen Gyeltshen once confronted with a similar situation said, "I don't want to begin my child's education with a fake document", and I don't think I want to do that either.

29 November 2013

Ninzi Becomes Four

My Daughter becomes four today, and the four years with her seemed like quick vacation. It had its own share of heartbreaks and tears but the joy she brought surpasses everything else.

First Month
Nine Months
One year
Over a year
The Shaved head
Two Years
Three Years

Now She is Four




22 September 2013

The Cold Holy Bath

We went on a dry picnic yesterday to Punakha. But of all the days yesterday wasn't a day to joke with the idea of remaining dry in all senses. We took a potable swimming pool for kids to enjoy their holy bath but seriously I didn't expect the pool to take three fathers and 70 buckets of water from Puna Mo Chhu to fill it up.
Our plan was to leave the pool in the sun to warm up before letting the kids in but they won't understand the kindness behind our unkindness. They got into it even before we could fill it up.They had no idea that the river just came from the glaciers and it's ice cold even when it flows down warm valley of Punakha.

The cold water however couldn't stop them. They played in it until they turned pale and their jaws froze. But they still hated the idea of getting out of it. So we have to force dump the water out of the pool before kids suffered hyperthermia in the name of holy bath. The conclusion was two angry kids. They had the thruelbub of their life time.

Three Fathers, 70 Buckets filled this pool

Ninzi and Bobo

Bobo turned pale with cold

And of course we parents had ours best watching them with temptations to jump in with them. At this age it lot more fun to jump in glass than in swimming pool. We parents had our share of stolen moments of romance.

The Thruelbub Moment of Romance ;)

NOTE: If you are in Thimphu Tomorrow Evening (Monday, 23rd Sept.2013) Please care to turn up for Blogger Meet. Place and time will be confirmed on Blogyul Facebook Page.


01 July 2013

Monthly Birthday Gift to my Daughter

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

                                           Compilation of Ninzi’s Self-made videos

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

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

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

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

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

10 June 2013

Place to Escape Heat in Wangdue

Hotel Pema Karpo is a three star hotel in Bajothangu, opened recently, that's not important because I don't need a hotel here. The best part of this hotel is the swimming pool it has in the backyard. It's the first and the only swimming pool in entire Wangdue. The hotel has opened its swimming pool facility to public on pay per use basis or on monthly membership fee.
I have a Dream, yes I have a dream that one day I will jump into the pool without floater
Just a thought of swimming pool brings a cooling effect in place like Bajothang and actually having it is a heavenly feeling. This afternoon it was very hot, right time to take my family to the pool along with two family friends. The idea excited my little mermaid while Kezang was there just to watch us. She wouldn't even touch the water but my little one would not come out of the water until we called the security to scare her out.
While I talk so fondly of water and swimming pool I must confess I can't swim, the only style of swimming I know is so rustic that it was banned by my wife. So until I learn a decent style I spend my time on floaters and on the children's side of pool.

Information for interested visitors: The water is very clean and management very friendly.
The fee is as follows:
Adults: Nu.150 per person for 3 hours and children Nu.100.
Monthly membership fee: Nu.1500
Location: Bajothangu (Between Bajothang and Samthang)

05 June 2013

Lamperi Park- A Place to Visit

I have travelled this road thousand times and for thousand times I have looked at the gate of Lamperi Botanical Park and wondered what must be there beyond the gate and wall. But I never had time to stop for a while and walk into the park- well today I asked myself, how long am I going to deny my excitement? How long am I going to rush through life and leave behind simple joy of living?

It's a wonderland beyond that gate. Nu.10 ticket has priceless experience to offer. There is a lake (tsho) with boating facility on the side, Orchid garden, Rhododendron Garden, Rock Garden, Children's Park, Medicinal Plant garden, library and the whole park is connected with Bike trail where mountain biking facility is offered (Nu.100/hr). If you are hungry there is a cafeteria and if you are pissy there are clean toilets around, but don't go behind the bushes- keep the park clean. The park is also open for night camping at Nu.30 per person and if you opt for guest house it's Nu.250 per person. (Full Details can be seen in the picture)
Enlarge and look for details
For a man like me who grew up in country it's like going back home but for someone like my daughter and all the kids who were born and bred away from roots it's like taking them to a fairy land and connecting them to who they really are.(entry for kids below 12 is free)
And for couples who haven't had much to to talk to each other recently, the park offers you the correct mood and setting to look at eachother and talk life. There is no TV, no WiFi, no Cars, no shopping, just the person you love in front with birds singing from the woods. Refresh your romance once in a while.
Taking my hyper daughter to the calm lake

One of the many interesting creations

After The Queen Grandmother- Rhododendron Kesangiae, seen in Rhododendron Garden

Another place to sit and romance

See the Orchid Garden beyond the bridge

 I am already planning my next trip there with pack lunch during a sunny holiday. I hope you will do that too.

28 May 2013

My Lost Turtle, The Free Turtle

When something wrong is going to happen you feel the energy from the first hour but because we are just human we can comprehend it only after it has happened. This morning I was up by 6:30 AM, something very strange for someone who sleeps at 3AM, and then by 7:30 AM I sneaked out of home with our pet turtle. I was like a little boy, wanting to let my turtle play in the Blue Pond which my class created in the school.
The Pond
The little creature lost its friend last year and had been alone in the aquarium so far. If he could talk he would have asked us to set him free rather than being alone among colorful stones in glass confinement. I took him out once and promised to take him once the pond is done. Yesterday I changed the water and cleaned the pond to welcome him there. kezang hates my rashness, therefore I ran out when she was still in bed.
The turtle in the Pond was an instant hit, there were students who never saw one in real before and there were teachers who knew everything about it but yet to see one outside TV. Excited kids wanted to touch it, feel its hardness, see it react, throw pebbles at it when I wasn't looking. I said nothing, I wanted them to experience it. There was crowd after crowd around the pond when I left for class.
During the First Outing
I finished my class with VIII C and rush back to the Pond to find no one around, and my dear turtle gone. The boy who was supposed to look after it has gone to his class too. I searched for my turtle everywhere around the pond and soon called off the search hoping the boy would have kept it somewhere safe.
The boy came to me asking where the turtle is, and perhaps he saw the color change on my face. Soon it was toilet break and dozens of students came to see the turtle but the poor thing was lost. Everybody helped in the search operation. There was no clue about what happened to the turtle, given it's speed it couldn't have ran so far from our reach, its hard shell would have protected it from birds and dogs, what else could have happened?
I couldn't go for lunch, because I was answerable to Kezang who has invested so much of herself to the little animal- from feeding to cleaning. It was her companion when I am in school. I snatched it away from her.
But looking at it from the other side, turtles, or for that matter any animal, are not meant to be kept in glass confinement, there are born free and deserve to be free. We humans exercise our supremacy over all species; eating what can be eaten, taming what can be tamed, and imprisoning beautiful creature for life by giving them a sweet name called 'Pet'. My lost turtle is finally liberated, hope it didn't land up with someone else to be confined in glass box again, hope it didn't land up in a dog's mouth to be crushed to death, I only pray that it finds its way to the river to be washed down to where it belongs, where he will find his kind, to play to mate and to reproduce his genes. Bye little one, farewell.

Lesson: I shouldn't be rash, must fence the Pond before I bring in the fishes and other aquatic lives I could get.