Compassionate Bhutan must accept Abortion now

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

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

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

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

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

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

Catching up with the Students

With due respect, I was insulting* over fifty senior teacher for the last ten day. The Best thing about being teacher is that it doesn't really matter who saw the light first, they listened to me passionately. I began by tell them what computer is, then we sat together in finding ways to use it in doing our regular works. Then we went on to find out how we us Internet- yes I took them on a joy ride to Facebook.  I couldn't stop myself from telling them how I consider Google as the greatest Rinpochee- I didn't leave them until they changed their faith. They are now more Googlist then Buddhist!
Then I finally reminded them why we are learning what we are learning; we are not trying to learn something great to help us help our students but to Catch up with out students.

One of the cartoons I showed!

*Please, do not consider the literal meaning of the word 'insulting', I mean it in good humor. 

Wind-hole in Wangdue

Legend has it that the Wind in Wangdue comes from a hole in the elephant hill. And many still believe so, finding no geographical justification to why Wangdue should be so windy when places around it are calm. To add more gravity to the legend, the wind at the southern end of the Wangdue Dzong is man-blowing; if you haven’t been there you don’t really know how windy the windy Wangdue is.

Man-blowing wind.

The gigantic prayer flag on the hill waves ferociously with sound enough to surpass twenty scooters starting at once, every blade of grass points in the direction of the wind, trees seem to have lost much of their leaves to the wind… every inch of the hill spells out the power of the wind.

I went looking for the hole, from the head to the tip of the trunk of the elephant hill. I wanted to photograph the wind at its source, but the legend remained a legend- I couldn’t find the hole this time. But the wind blew me into wonder- is so much power going to go wasted everyday in blowing dust around? Or embarrassing and shy girl by blowing up her kira, or by blowing off a bald man’s hat? Can’t it be harnessed into useful energy- to pump water or generate electricity? Because even if there is no wind hole in the hill there is undeniable power of wind sweeping the hill at all times.

If I Write a Book on My Mother...

My Mother- Cendrella so far

If I write a book on my mother dear, only the first chapter won't have to be written with blood and tears. The first chapter of her life was happy, born with a silver spoon but her luck soon ran out and her Cendrella-ordeal began. Despite being a daughter of a Dzongda, she had to fight the hardship of village life alone. She was deprived of education and gradually parted with her little inheritance. My young mother had to cremate  four parents and two husbands before I came of age to wipe her tears.
If I ever have to write the second chapter I will have to write of all those people whom I have tried all my life to forgive, people who walk this earth with pride because my mother was humble, people who rub shoulders with titans because my mother was innocent, and people who enjoy the smoothness of silken nightgown because my mother chose to remain in rags. My mother's good heart that I inherited reminds me each day that revenge is not the solution. Every time I think of writing about my mother, I think of those people who made my mother's life miserable and even on mother's day I wrote nothing.
My mother is living the last few chapters of her life and I am going to restore her birth rights- she deserves happiness in each word of each page, and I am going to make sure these few chapters justify the whole purpose of her life. I swear I will give up all my faith in god if he takes her away before I could give her all the happiness in the world.

Bhutanese Music

I didn't like Bhutanese music until recently, forgive me but there was nothing that could draw me- from lyrics to composition to the voice quality. Thanks to singers Namgay Jigs (forgive his name), Tshering Dorji, and Kheng Sonam Dorji, lyricist like Dirty and Composer like Tandin, who suddenly transformed the whole trend.

Now, Bhutanese children listen to great deal of local music and pride in being able to sing a few. Our generation, who grew insulting the half-hearted songs, is finally beginning to stop and listen, and even love some songs. It's unfortunate that the business is not good now a days with lot of piracy but the change in quality deserves all our respect.

I don't know what magic is there in Bhutanese songs, my daughter would run dancing to the TV as soon as she hears one playing. This has got me so curious, and I had to try playing different musics but god knows why it the Bhutanese music that has this magic. When I shared this story with my friends I knew I wasn't alone. This has been happening with many babies...

Business Idea: Why don't someone in web-designing business come up with a site from where we could download Bhutanese songs legally.

My Dream of Lungtenzampa Bridge

A bridge is a symbol of art, landmark of the city, an icon of development of a country. But what is Lungtenzampa Bridge? In the heart of Bhutan's capital city, where it should have been a beautiful bridge that could live up to the legend of the bridge of destiny lies a dumb-looking engineering blunder. 

It is not pleasing to look at, shapelessly huge and rough, giving an outline of a sleeping elephant seal. It is not friendly for pedestrians to cross and worse is when the summer rain dams up in its enormous depression right in the centre of the bridge. If Phajo Drogom Zhipo and Khandro Sonam Palden had this bridge between them then, they would have gone back rather.

Lungtenzampa- photo by Ugyen

18 Century Wangdue Bridge

Bhutan had built beautiful bridges way before London had the Tower Bridge (1894) or San Francisco had their Golden Gate (1937). We had built them without a piece of iron or a spade of cement.  Without even a drawing. We have history. But history only. Today France has Millau Bridge, South Korea has Banpo Bridge, Singapore has Henderson Waves, China has Hangzhou Bay Bridge, Brazil has Oliveira Bridge, Germany has Magdeburg Water Bridge… all masterpieces of their country's architects and all landmarks of their countries. But what do we have? Lungtenzampa Bridge? If Zhabdrung came back he would die of shame.

I dream to see a Bhutanese masterpiece stretch over the Wang chu one day, that is so beautiful that we are proud to step out of our car and walk over it in the evening, that is so unique that when the world sees it on TV or internet they know that it is in Bhutan, that is so intelligently built that there is way out for the rainwater and way across for people, that is so iconic that it changes the face of Thimphu.

Khuru and Women

Women playing khuru has become a hot topic on Kuensel forum. The cultural shift has received as much praise as it’s been mocked. There are ones who appreciate the participation of women in keeping the spirit of the traditional game while others consider it gross and even ominous. There are ones who think women are finally seeing life beyond their kitchens while others think they are creating mockery of the game.

And there are a few people, including khuru players themselves, who declared (on BBS) playing khuru is a sign that women are equal to men and that they can do what men can do, which is when I started laughing and even doubting the intention.

If ladies truly enjoy playing the game then they must play. It boosts social interaction and physically fitness. It kills boredom and punctures daily frustration, and yes even let their husbands know how it feels like to be left alone on weekends and losars, ha ha ha. But if it is done to prove their equality with men then I wish to tell them how wrong they are. It is a gross misunderstanding of the principle of gender equality. In that case wearing gho instead of kira would speak louder than just torturing themselves under scorching sun playing khuru.

Woman playing khuru. Graceful?  ( From Nopkin.com)

There are a thousand ways women could justify their strength; there is no short of inspiration, motivation and right. Khuru is a wild game; throwing khuru and hitting target is one thing while screaming and dancing like crazy is another. Women are icon of beauty and grace but watching them play khuru on TV really freaked me. Khuru was a wrong choice. It’s like selling your hair to buy a comb.

Khuru: a traditional Bhutanese dart game, played usually by men.

Losar: new year day, but now it refers to any special holiday.

Gho: National dress for men

Kira: national dress for women.

A Show for Tourists

I watched Jampa Lhakhang Drup live on BBS this morning. It has something different to offer than Tshechus and I want to watch it once.
 However, as the camera turned around to show the spectators I was surprised to see more cameras than eyes and more pants than ghos and kiras. It almost looked like some press conference of mask dancers. Whole thing only looked like a show for the tourists.

B Mobile vs Tashi Cell as Dual SIM Mobile Comes in...

I was thankful to B Mobile when it first came in the market. I didn't mind paying Nu.600 for the sim card and loading Nu.300 voucher even when I didn't have enough money to buy my shoe. I even found Nu.5 per minute cheap, though I didn't appreciate it being deducted even when the line gets disconnected a few seconds later.

But it all changed when Tashi Cell came to break the B Mobile monopoly. Three months of free talk time, Sim card free and rate as low as Nu.3 per minute, which is again divided into three units. That's when I realized how cheap it could be. I instantly used Tashi Cell but problem was all my contacts used the senior service and it was not fair for them as B Mobile charged higher on calls to Tashi Cell.

The two cellular services lived along in the market for last few years and Tashi Cell couldn't gain as many users as B Mobile had since people already have a sim. Over the years both tired different strategies to market their product. And by any count Tashi Cell was generous, may be it still had to multiply its subscribers three folds to catch up with the senior rival. 

My Dual SIM Mobile using both B&T

Now with the dual sim mobile everybody is going for two sims, one of B Mobile and other Tashi Cell. And it won't take much before Tashi Cell gets equal number of subscribers as B Mobile and that's when occasional smartness could mean huge turnover.

I used Tashi Cell more when they offered Losar bonuses and these days when B Mobile's Power Voucher came in I am using B Mobile more... We have a choice now, smarter choice!

Something More Serious than the Decorated Case of Rape

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


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


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

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

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

Exam for the Future

This morning I made Nu.300 invigilating Dzongkha Language Proficiency Test in my school. Thank you ECB for the occasional treat, otherwise we teachers hardly get to see anything more than our salary.

I don't know if my translation of the test as DLPT is anywhere close to what it really is but from its objective I can understand just that. In Bajo alone 404 candidates sat for the exam which shall give them the license to run for Local Government leaders' post sometime soon. Of course popularity in their own villages should be a bigger test since it is voting that will decide finally.

It is reported that there are close to 5000 people sitting for the test across the nation today and I am keen to know how many of them knew why they were doing it. In my center here, a few of them where truly surprised when they were asked to read and write. While it was inspiring to discover that one of our students also sat for the test along with her sister and father.

It took us far more time and energy to get the folks into the hall than anticipated, but at least in my hall I was given full cooperation despite occasional jokes from old men, which shook the house with laughter. Today all of them are just another group of dreamers but someday a few of them will be our leaders.

A Change that made sense- Fishing License

By reading "Kuchu and Kumbu" story in our primary school we were supposed to learn a lesson but as always many things we were taught in school were for the sake of occupying the teaching time and should not be taken seriously. A tank in Phuntsholing is over populated with fishes and "authorities are finding ways to relocate them". Why waste money in something that should be bringing profit instead? Simple solution to the problem is to harvest the fishes but unfortunately those fishes are not meant for killing. They are for decoration? If we are really concerned about killing, why are we importing fishes from India? All in all it is another Potato and Chips story!

For that matter our rivers are so full of fishes but only flood can kill them. Million of new fishes are born each year to die their natural death. It's just matter of common sense, which we have least. After all we are buying fishes for outside, what is sense in forbidding fishing? 

I salute the minister of agriculture for being wise enough to grant fishing license to the villagers of a remote corner in Wangdue (from BBS TV). Throughout history the village lived on fishing but so far they were crippled by the law forbidding their livelihood. Minister educated the farmers (lets call them fishermen) on sustainable fishing, which made more sense. This day will go down in history as the "day Bhutanese made sense"!

Read Detailed report on the project in Business Bhutan

“Ladies, go back home” Policy

Government drove off all Indian maids working in Bhutanese homes and now you can’t even keep Bhutanese helpers. What alternative did the government come up with? Well it none of their business. Following the house raid last year families across the nation are devastated, all they could do was to call their old parents to babysit for them. What about those without parent? Well, don’t give birth!

Despite substantial effort in bringing about gender equality, Bhutan couldn’t really remove its deep root from feminine discrimination. The ill feeling is at the heart of our beliefs, superstitions, religion and culture. We are all brought up with the belief that girls are nine lives below us, whatever it mean. It takes a man to perform or inaugurate an important ceremony. It will be considered bad if a woman walks over a man, or for that matter his gho or any other things that belong to man. If you know a Bhutanese fairy tale, tell me who is the gunda boss? Who else but a witch. There is no room in Bhutan where man can’t go in but many temples have certain chambers where females are forbidden. Symbol of male sex organ (phallus) is considered scared and is seen hanging from roofs and drawn on walls but not the female one. Even wise figure like Guru Rimpochee relates tobacco with female menstrual fluid. One Dzongkhag text we were taught in high school fully talks on how dirty a female body is. This is a short list I can remember to illustrate the depth of feminine prejudice in our society.

And with change in time things seem to have moved on but with the root deep down underneath how we could expect so much; Health people say a mother must breastfeed their baby for full six month while the maternity leave is just three months and no office will allow women employees to walk in the office with their babies. Now as women rub shoulders with men, our society can't resist it and therefore “ladies, go back home” policy is put in place- I mean if babysitters are illegal or made unaffordable it only means mothers leaving the jobs and going back home.

Just sit down with a cup of tea and look back on our beliefs and culture and ask yourselves who must have made them. If your mind is not frozen in some ancient times perhaps you would realize that all of these are brainchild of some powerful foolish men back in Dark Age.

Living after Death

Earlier this week BBS headlines included a piece of News from Japan; body parts of a dead man were donated. And our students also brought it in the headlines of Bajo Broadcasting on Saturday this morning; of course they always make hot news out of stale ones. I was translating the news to my Singaporean friend Germaine and to my surprise she was surprised. She asked, “How come it is even news?” She told me that in Singapore everybody donates by default.

Then I wondered about our culture; we burn everything and perform expensive rituals. And people believe that if the body couldn’t be cremated well or the rituals weren’t performed right the soul won’t find its path and may come back as a ghost. But Buddha didn’t teach us so. He taught us to be selfless, he taught us to detach ourselves from our body even when we are living, but what are we doing? We don’t want to give up our body even when we die, worse we burn it- how selfish.

Bhutan should be the first country in the world to adopt body parts donation as national pride by the virtue of being the only Buddhist GNH country. But I am sure we will be the last country to be because we are so resistant to good change.

No matter what I am agreeing to donate my body parts after I die; I want to live after death. I swear I will not come back as a ghost.

My Take away List!

• Take my heart, it is strong and good.
• Take my brain, it is only half used.
• Take my kidney, they are stonefree.
• Take my liver, I only drink occasionally.
• Take my Lungs; I only smoked for three years.

But Don’t take my stomach, it’s bad, it took in lots of chickens, goats, cows, yaks, pigs, even some frogs. It is the source of unhappiness. Give it to my family for cremation. And during my funeral ask them to play Scorpion’s Wind of Change. And know that I am living after death because my heart will still be beating…

We are more than race winner sperm

Are we still like them?

Unlike twins where the winner trophy is shared by two sperms, all the rest of us are proud race winner from among 50 million sperm cells that took part. But now that we are born we should keep aside our spermish behavior, we are more than that. We ain’t at race anymore. We must get of the race track and head for the refreshment stall. Start living.

Picture Source: scienceline.org

World Cup is a global event and not an African festival

I silently rejoiced the failure of South Africa squad to enter the second round of World Cup finals though I have high regard for the Nelson Mandela’s country ever since my high school age. I was even overjoyed back in 2006 when South Africa was chosen as the next World Cup venue. But ever since the onset of 2010 World Cup finals my love for the African nation faded in heavy chaos of Vuvuzela.

 Photo source:vuvuzelasouthafrica.co.za, forgive the integration of center vuvuzela.

Vuvuzela is actually a graceful cultural piece as I was in Hollywood movie Bones but it is far from pleasing when blown in crowd of thousands. It must be their tradition but tradition should not be ruthless. Despite the protest of millions across the world and even the players themselves South Africans selfishly turned their deaf ears. They should realize that the World Cup is a global event and not an African festival. They terribly failed in making 2010 World Cup in their country a memory worth cherish-able for the rest of the world.

Moment you put on the television either the sleeping babies are woken or elders are made restless, and without an option we have to either put off or watch it muted, murdering the very charm of the game.

South African team was doing well but the vuvuzela blew them out right in the first round and I sadistically loved it. I even loved the cameramen for not showing a single glimpse of vuvuzela during the entire tournament so far. When the news channels do show people with vuvuzela pressed hard against their lips I can’t help wishing if all of those turned into penises right into their mouth.

Green Car: a car truly for Bhutan

REVA in Bhutan!

I saw the cute electric car commuting in Thimphu often and it got me wondering. Only last night’s “Jurwa” program on BBS enlightened me. I was amazed by the speed it could travel at on battery; 80 km per hour. Once fully charged it could take you 80 km far and at the end of the journey you could happily plug it up at home, without having to waste tie going to fuel pumps and never having to worry about the ups and downs of fuel price. At the top of advantages list stands its zero emission feature, car truly meant for green Bhutan.

What makes driving difficult on a regular car is the clutch and gear system, which are not there on this green car making it more attractive. Your left foot can be at rest at all times and when your right foot shifts from accelerator to brake the battery gets recharged, amazing! No noise pollution at all, which means you can sneak out of home without your children’s notice, making office going all the more easier.

But the car is small and looks like a toy, as if it was meant for kids. This external design was not taken seriously at all. You can’t help smiling when an adult drives it. Like lynpo Nado Rinchen pointed out, it should have three standard seats at the back for Bhutanese to find it practical. While Lynpo’s ideas of encouraging Bhutanese by giving incentives such as 1.Tax free 2.No parking fee and 3.Regrestration fee exemption are very bright, the car maker should reconsider its design according to Bhutanese ego.

REVA NXR- Better option!

We Bhutanese are known for showing off; we are always worried “what people would say?” It is no exception even during funerals; we want the most number of cars joining the convoy, excluding the small cars. We borrow clothes for festivals. Some pay Nu.70,000 for a dress they can only wear once a year. Santro, Alto and Maruti 800 cars are called kanchi cars in Thimphu, among the Prados and Mercedes. So the maker should make it big and stylish, money no problem.

On the economic ground, who would want to invest Nu.345, 000 in a toy-like car when we can easily buy a standard one at the same price? Of course we fail to realize that an average car consumes more than Nu.75, 000 worth of fuel and gear oil a year, which will be Nu.375,000 in five years, price of another car. While the green car can be charged for free even at your aunt’s place.

Sources of the two pictures are linked to the picture themselves. Click on them.

Breast Envy

In Sigmund Freud’s psychosexual development theory there is an interesting phrase that describes a girl child’s desire for penis, and the power that it represents. This is described as penis envy. I ain’t Freud’s fan a bit; everything in his theory sounds crazy but I own a strange feeling that no word could describe, and which somehow relates to his penis envy concept. 

After I became father I started wondering why I can’t breastfeed my daughter. I shared my funny state of mind with Germaine, a Singaporean friend, who inspired me with stories she read about male breast feeding being possible in some scientific research papers. It is known as male lactation.  She gave me a few living examples including a western doctor and a Hollywood actor. I tried a few times myself but my daughter would look at my face and smile away. 

It is too much a job for a mother to carry the baby for nine months in her belly, suffer the near death experience of delivery, and still having to sooth the baby every now and then, even in the middle of night. What are fathers for? Gone are the days when fathers go out in search of food, now a days if father puts the bread on the table it is mother who puts the butter. But god needs to redesign the human anatomy. Why did he have to give both to woman after all, what if the mother passes away? Why did he have to give two little nipples to man when he had no intention of filling it up?

My daughter likes playing with me, knowing I could lift her higher than her mother do and take her places out of home. But every now and then she looks for her mother despite my hardest effort in pleasing her. When she wakes from her naps I love being by her but she would cry as if she saw a stranger, only her mother’s presence would make her smile. She can spend days without me and that makes me feel inferior. I am almost unnecessary in my daughter’s growth. If only I could breastfeed her I would feel like a complete father.

Cc: to God, for necessary action.

27 Years in Teaching and Divided From Family- My Aunt's Story

One Saturday, during my regular weekend visit to my aunty at Punakha she showed me a certificate from 1990. It was awarded to her for successful completion of NAPE course then. What is surprising is that the certificate was wrongly addressed and she just got it from her contemporary after 20 years. The paper was neatly kept and looks as fresh as it was delivered this morning, though in these many years my aunty has become grandmother to two granddaughters. Perhaps now you can guess how many years she served as teacher.

She is new in Punakha and houses in Kuruthang are not at all welcoming. She has lost some weight over the week climbing to the tiny room beneath the roof. We scanned the whole town with all the relatives we have around in search of a decent house, and this is what we had to agree with; a three unit attic with lights coming in only through the transparent roof. The new place and the tiny house have stolen away my aunt’s soul. She looked defeated and depressed, and that’s why I always find time to give her company with my family.

Twenty five years ago, or ten years ago if she was posted to Punakha it would have been very usual and she would have taken it with joy. At this age when joints start paining it is hard for her to believe that she has to move out of Thimphu on compulsory transfer. It is a policy well thought over by the ministry when it comes to making it fair for the system but what about the humane side?

Many of her mates are directors and secretaries, a few are even ministers now, sad but true some have passed away but she is still living and teaching. Recently she tells me that even her students are there among directors and secretaries, sadly they won't remember her because she taught them in PP. Young teachers have new system in place whereby there is a strong career ladder. If it was there during her time by now she would be reigning somewhere on the top. But since 1985 she has only grown horizontally. She has no complains. She knew her service is delivered and therefore would be acknowledged. Not in her wildest dream did she see herself being punished for 25 years of service.

Her children suggested her to resign and take rest because she has already shown sign of wearing of her lung and vocal cord from quarter century of shouting with little children. Money has never been their problem and will not be, now that uncle earns triple his old salary with the new job and their daughter is in job. It is about dedication to work. With her degree of perseverance and experience I would be expecting a medal of honor from the ministry and not punishment.

Why am I calling it a punishment? My aunty and uncle are all by themselves far from the crowd of Thimphu. They planned the cottage on their own to spend their old age. Uncle is in late fifties and worse he is a bad cook. Tears welled in my eyes when he started learning how to cook last winter after aunt’s transfer was confirmed. Their three children are away on job and studies. Uncle may be used to staying alone from his lifelong experience in arm force but not hungry. If he falls sick there is nobody around to offer him a cup of water.

On the other side of Dochula my aunty, who has always lived in crowd of children, has to sleep with TV still on, she is a good cook but with her husband surviving on Maggie she can hardly enjoy a meal. She is overweight and very much vulnerable to sudden illness. But if she wishes to lose weight now, her wish is granted already. I have never been old so far, therefore I don’t know how true it is when old people say they feel lonely. If it is true I feel sorry for them that the system has made it worse.

Writer’s Note: With this article I don’t mean to question the policy because I know any policy is bound to hurt some people. It must look at the majority, for even God himself couldn’t create something that could please everybody. I only wrote it in sympathy and love for my aunty.

November Rain- Don't be surprised!

(Apologies for the empty article, but it’s my way of reserving a page on the day when I need time to finish the piece)

I don’t know what inspired Guns n Roses to write their greatest hit song November Rain, but sometimes I get this funny feeling that it must have been something like a rain in November over the Himalayas.

Last year it would have been a surprise if we had a rain in cold November, but this year we are not. Look at me, at 6:50 this morning an earthquake awaked me and it didn’t surprise me much as it would have done some months before.

So many things have changed. Nostradamus predicted various important things that would happen long after his death, but Guru Rimpochee predicted everything in his one line prophesy; dhe num me jur, mee num jur wa een, (Oh, it reminds me of the BBS program which always starts with this line). So we are changing not the time.

The Biggest change I saw this year is in the smallest screen. Of course the media advertised. The pornographic clips are still spreading like wild fire. They all passed my eye too. I felt sorry for the two clips but the third one I saw looks like commercial. What is happening now? I wish to write more but I can’t sound politically correct all the time and could get myself in trouble.

Anyway, the message is; don't be surprised with a silly rain in November, or to have an earthquake for alarm clock, for that matter even snowfall in Phuntsholing, for look what we are doing now, even Bhutanese are making Pornographic Movies.