My School is relaxing today, students are on two day study leave because their exam is beginning this Monday. The school football ground is hosting a grand khuru tournament with about 30 participating teams. My teacher colleagues are wrapping up paperworks for the winter. I can see just me alone sweating in the November cold. I am trying out computer practical exam in class nine for the first time and there couldn't be a better day than today. But I didn't know I would hate exam more after the test this morning.
There are two reasons that gave me this feeling which is bothering me through. The first batch of fifteen students finished their two hour test and I uploaded their work on the network before I prepare the computers for the next batch. I needed each one of them to stand with me while I verify their work. Half way through I sensed a boy has left the exam hall. With the next batch still outside there's possibility of him leaking the paper to them, so I rushed out after him to find him doing what I feared; we was showing them the paper. Thank god, the test is about practical skill and not something that could be mugged up from the textbook, otherwise the next batch had the privilege of having the question paper before entering the hall. I regreted it though but I couldn't help slapping the boy! I know it's not his fault all together, there is mine too but the biggest fault lies in the very idea of examination!
The first batch finished with a slap and second began with an attempt-cheating. But my heart melted when I saw one of my student being carried into exam hall by two of her friends. She actually had a normal cough and cold that went on paralyzing her lower half. Her feet were not responding to her but she came to do her exam. I offered her to do her exam next time but she refused to give up. Her mother came in when she was half way through the test. I just let the mother take her daughter to a doctor. I have to make another set of question just for her when she gets well, and it's okay for me. If I tested her today I would be testing her ability to withstand her disease and not my subject. And I hate exams because generally exams overlook this humane considerations, while ironically we say we are educating them!
Yesterday was the descending day of Lord Buddha, as holy as it could be. I went on an outing with my family to Punakha. We visited Punakha Dzong, actually we reached at the gate, only my brother Sonam went in with Jigme since he didn’t visit it earlier. Then we went up to Zomlingthang, a beautiful place to sit for lunch. It was fun pulling out my car from quicksand. Everybody made a joke of me, “your car is not a desert car!” My wife got angry. It took us about an hour and a tea break to get the car out of the sand I drove in.
From there we drove to Kuruthang Zangtopelri, it is another place I have already visited so I let in the three kids for their exam’s sake. Then we lunched at a popular restaurant. We chose to take the rough road back home, along the river. There was a little beach where we played in the evening sun.
The picture from the day are posted in my facebook album, please have a look.
Doesn’t the day sound exciting? Well it was a wonderful day. However, the evening spoiled the day. I discovered what my brother Tenzin had done with his exam and result. He didn't show me any paper he got, only upon asking he would vaguely tell me the marks he got. I didn't mind that, not his mark even.
The result sheet where I was supposed to sign was also hidden. Even if he showed me his terrible marks what would I do? I would look at them, shake my head, give some words and take some words, and that’s it. Why did he have to hide it at all?
Now when I asked him to show me his result sheet, he thought I was joking. There were hundreds other things we joke about at home but he should realize that his education would be the last thing I would joke about. I made him realize that it’s a serious business but he lied to me and said he lost his result. I showed him my nine year old result and asked him how he could lose three day old result. But that didn't make sense to him. He then changed his story; he now said he tore the result.
I got furious and wiped him until he cried and until he showed me his result from underneath the cupboard. He had failed in four subjects and just managed to pass in the rest. I didn’t mind him failing; I didn’t say anything when he failed alike in mid-term. When he cried it almost broke my heart but if I give in to my emotions now I can never make him appreciate how important and serious education is for his life.
After dinner he went to bed early, but I couldn’t sleep for a long time. It was a wonderful day we had, why suddenly did this have to happen. His loud cry kept echoing in my ears. I wanted to go at his bedside and tell him that I am sorry and that I love him, but I couldn’t. Perhaps he already knows how much I love him. I only want him to lead a life he would love to live and for that I may have to break my own heart once too often.
The 21st September Earthquake was my first Ap Naka-experience. I was teaching in class nine when I felt the floor shaking underneath my feet. I looked around at my students to confirm my suspicion and they all gave me the stare of approval. I couldn't say anything, I was just too happy to have experienced the first earthquake of my life- I have missed that big one in December 2002. I made several calls here and there to share my excitement.
That evening BBS broadcasted the worst news from the eastern part of our country. It was the worst earthquake that ever hit Bhutan in our time. Thousands of homes were destroyed. Faith couldn’t keep the temples and chortens from falling; how helpless!
My joy eventually faded into subtle sorrow and then fear. Earthquake after earthquake, as if to say now it’s our turn in the world. Each tremor made me make several calls east and west; not to share my joy but to ask if our walls are still standing!
This morning at about 5am my wife shook me awake to yet another deadly earthquake. It’s no more exciting, I am just hoping this time there is nothing more than the playful shake. I am waiting with my fingers crossed for the 6pm news on BBS, prayerfully hoping it has nothing bad it say.
In August I was literally at the end of my wit when I wrote “Burglary on the Rise; Police taking forever to bring them down.” By then three of my friends’ homes were ransacked, my favorite shop is looted, even the poor tailor was not left, several cars were emptied of fuel, few tyres were missing… Almost every night something gets stolen from somewhere. Wangdue was sleepless then.
The suspect, who is on everybody’s mind, is a young local man in twenties. He is jobless. He drinks and smokes. He can be seen with group of brats like himself in the local bars every night. He is tall and lean and has a sly face. He picks up fight with everybody whom he meets after he gets drunk, and leaves them bleeding. He fears nothing. He is a total outlaw.
Every new day a new case of robbery comes up and everybody tells each other that it could be no one else than the regular man. But no one dares enough to point him out. He was living a mafia style life, on the hard earned gold and money of the residents.
Now it’s about a month anybody lost anything. Not many would acknowledge the peace we are gifted by the Wangdue Police by arresting the serial robber. The police was waiting for the right moment and they got it. The local bandit is behind the bar. He has enough cases against him to spent his able years in prison. Wangdue gets back its peaceful sleep.
We call it examination time, the week long period at the end of the year to see if the students could go to next grade or get into college or a job. I wrote examinations for seventeen years of my life so far to rightfully hate it. I hate it because it lacks logic and I hate it because it is an official torture.
How do you suppose a three hour test could justify a year long learning? Toughest of subjects like sciences in classes ten and nine are just given one and half hour of exam time. In a few hours you fill up a few pages and that goes to rewrite the destiny of your life, is it time enough for such a serious decision?
Let’s look at it professionally; is examination in anyway capable of accessing the achievement of vision of education? Education is countless values and life skill while exam narrowly test the book stuffs. The most disciplined, the most obedient, the most responsible, the most decent students go unacknowledged except for their test scores just as the naughtiest chap could walk out as the best. Where is justice? Is education all about testing the memory power?
Where is the logic in giving children three hours to show what they have got in last six thousand hours? Luck surpasses logic in exams. What someone studied thoroughly has not come in the question paper, thus he fails the exam but look who failed whom? The paper failed to have the question on the part he has studied! Ever wondered why Dechenphu is crowded with students before exams? Exam is a game of luck!
Isn’t exam hall a torture chamber? Thank god we at least come out alive. Three hours is too short to justify a person’s knowledge and negotiate his future, but it’s too long a time for a young student to sit continuously on a hard bench without the freedom to move around. In these three hours a young child has to endure multiple trauma- continuous stretch of attention (at the most a child has an attention span of just 10 min), writing longer than ever before the pen blisters the fingers, the hard bench almost changes the shape of the hipbone, in such long sitting we can’t escape the call of nature that makes the mind restless, and the silence and the tiredness could welcome sleep.
Worst is not mentioned yet; why exams have to be in winter? Did we forget we live on the Himalayas? We must have adopted our education system from India, instead of hugging it all blindly we should at least have had the logic that if we bring buffalo to Haa it should be in the summer. Our fingers freeze, our toes become numb and only thing that keep running in our head is the urge to run out in the warmth of the sun. Our handwriting go crazy, you take ages to shape up a word and after sometime even the mind seems to freeze. Whose crazy idea is it to test the child in the extreme cold? Isn’t exam a torture?
Forgive the teacher in me for carry this contradictory perceptive, but I must confess I hate it more as I watch my students struggle through the torturous hours.
This very team walking out today has given Bhutan Times its wings. Who could love the paper more than them? Not at least a man who joined just some days ago. It is a big story now. Of all Business Bhutan must find it ironic to see how their entrance has coincided with an almost-exit of BT. Anyway they got a hot news to print on a cold autumn morning.
I waited outside the shop that sells BT to see if there would be an issue last Sunday. I was playing with a strange probability in my mind; if there is the issue this week then it shall be a history, if there isn’t then it shall really be a history.
The opposition leader Tshering Tobgay is more excited than judgmental about the issue in his blog, “Volume III, Issue 50 of the Bhutan Times could hit the newsstands on 25 October 2009. If it does, treasure it. That issue could mean that private media is much more vibrant than we realize. And that fact is worth celebrating, regardless of who is right – journalists or management.”
The second page is full of scanned copies of letters; from employees to the company, from BICMA to company, from CEO to BICMA. The one letter that caught my tail is Wangcha Sangay writing back to BICMA; I (Mr.) Passang Tshering of Haa Yangthang is thoroughly surprised by the degree of confidence and aggression of (Mr.) Sangey of Haa Wangcha. There is no doubt that this senior citizen of 57 (with a track record of proven capabilities and established credentials- look who is saying this) will rescue the company (from what?). However the letter is anything but official. He condemns the move of the team as “shameful” and BICMA’s interference as “threat”. Many lines are as if directly translated from a furious villager’s tongue.
The news is everywhere; criticism is blown in the wind. Everybody is talking about how bad it was of the seven people to walk out on their company when it needed them so much. They are of the opinion that they left the company because the company is broke. There are plenty of stories from one side and from the other we have just this phrase “editorial interference by management”. What does it mean? What went wrong inside their office that made these seven people give up their jobs? There must be something bigger than a-cup-of-free-tea wrong and nobody is daring enough to speak it up.
As I read this blog “WE ARE NO WRITERS...” there seems to be a matter connected to that solidarity walk, which gave many oldies the fever of their lives, “It seems like some people have never come to terms with the ‘solidarity walk’. They dig shit. The stink returns. If there is any political reason to it…“ However I am far from understanding anything related to this but my concern is rather than condemning these seven people without even listening to their story, we should urge to know what they really meant by “editorial interference by management”? Thimphu is short of jobs, still why did they have to leave theirs, if not for a big reason? For the good of democracy we the normal citizens demand to know the fact of the matter.
25th October Issue of Bhutan Times must have sold the most, for everybody wanted to know what would be in it. Not so bad as we feared. There are many new names of which “Sangey of Ha Wangcha” out stood all the other, not in the style of writing but in the style of writing the name.
When I come home today I wish to find the door latched from inside, because when I ring the doorbell I wish to see you open the door for me with a smile. I don’t mind even if you come rubbing sleep of your eyes.
Everyday I walk in without your notice and you even don’t care when I have come. Sometimes I disgust you when I walk into our room disturbing your sweet nap with my strong footfall. Yet upon waking, you pull your blanket still further and sleep for little longer. I have just begun my marriage and expect grander romance out of it, if not as much as I saw in “Message in the Bottle” or read in “Note Book”. I am beginning to feel like an old man already.
Sometimes I walk in with dust on my shoes, you have no idea how I try to be careful about this but somehow it keeps slipping my mind, and that spoils your mood altogether. Sorry won’t work on you, so I even give my hand in cleaning it but your mood never seems to come back. Thus a dust on my shoe ruins a family’s evening. Evening after evening for silly matters like a “dust on my shoe” as long as sorry doesn’t work...
There are many other important things that I keep forgetting. Forgetting has become a part of me now, I don’t like it myself either. I want to remember everything in their finest detail but what to do my mind is overloaded with matters of four different subjects of six different classes with 200 different students each day from morning to evening in the school. That’s just one of ten parts of work I do in the school. So forgive me if I forget things, I promise I will no more forget our car in the school and come home walking. Please accept that I am imperfect just as anybody.
In all my waking moments I let the fibers of my life dance to the flute of your will, but forgive me if the dance sometimes is not perfect. Don’t let it kindle the flame of your anger that may burn down our home. In rage you throw and break things, which I forgive you but god may not, we may repair or replace the broken things but we cannot buy back the luck you smashed with some cherished things.
Yet at the end of it all, when the calm befalls the fury I forgive you and that’s when I wish if you could accept my imperfection just as I agree with yours.
People say this Wang is once-in-a-life chance. His holiness the late Je Daden Rinchen has passed on this blessing to the present lam Neten of the Wangdue Dzong, thus it is said that only he can give this wang.
Such public gathering always excites me, I love to take my family out into the crowd and let them feel the energy. Of course it was difficult for my wife to wear kira on her eighth-month belly. Thought of having to take her among the wild Bhutanese crowd scared me. However, it was not so bad. We avoided the crowd.
I couldn't help watching the human drama of greed in the courtyard of the Wangdue Dzong where people have come to connect themselves with god. Everybody wants to be in the frontline, everybody like to keep in the shade, everybody wants to have the blessing first, and everybody wants bundles of soonkeys. At the end of the day, true blessing is what we feel deep within ourselves; no one can bless you more than yourself. The guilt-free self is the greatest blessing.
I know anybody would ask, “Who said this winter will be the coldest?” The simple answer is who said the whole country would be flooded last summer? Who said country would be hit by a destructive earthquake ever? Who said it would be followed by windstorm?
Nobody has to say anything on this matter. This chain of things will keep happening now. It’s called the weather change, and our country can do nothing about it, we can just wait and suffer the different blows from nature. If all the countries in the world have been simple like ours then perhaps we would not have to face this natural calamities now. But the big countries with big desires provoke the instinct of the wild nature. Those countries are suffering year after year but why us? Whom to question at?
We better prepare to face different calamities now. Imagine heavy snowfall in Phuntsholing; are we ready to face it? Imagine months of road block due to snowfall; do we have enough food in stock? Imagine an avalanche from Sangaygang do we have a rescue team yet?
A slap on the right cheek means that we should take care of the left cheek, unless you want to be someone like Gandhiji. The September 21 Earthquake cost Bhutan over 2000 million. With this much money we could have built a shield against all earthquakes ever.
The question I put was funny, I know, and more funny question is do we still want to continue offering butter lamp, and relieve works once everything is over or are we going to do something before the disaster strikes so that there won't be a need to light butter lamp at all? was it a question? It seemed like an answer.
Over years I realized I was growing very quick. Many a morning I woke up wondering why I was doing what I was doing then. I regretted so many things I was doing that I often found myself slowly changing the course all together. It was not at all picnic having to start undoing things that had once been a part of me.
First was my anger. It was terrible. I was living with a devilish master and I didn’t know I was affecting people around me. If I had continued with that anger of mine today I would be all be myself. But I realized on time. People say it is very difficult to overcome it. I don’t remember facing difficulty because all I was doing was just not being angry when I feel like being. That’s when I realized how many people cared for me.
Then, it was my smoking habit. I don’t even remember how I quitted. Three years into the habit I was finding it funny; why am I taking smoke into my lungs when I very wisely know that it would do nothing more than bad on me? It was waste of time, money, health, and grace (most people think smoking is cool but in the eye of decent people it is erosion of character).
Drinking was interesting when bachelor. Once I started having family I looked like a fool, balancing myself on my feet when the rest of them are leaning on me. Nobody had to tell me anything, I just did what a responsible man should do.
Looking at my tattooed arm I might look like once-a-drug-addict but I swear I was a bad boy but not so bad as to take drug. I hate drugs. The reason I am growing wise and responsible is because I never used it at any point. If I had done it I might not have lived up to realize all these.
There were minute other things, which is fine even if not written.
Well I have finally given up this (one more) cheap habit of mine--chewing tobacco. After I quit smoking I picked this up. Everybody thinks this is a very filthy thing to do with my mouth. I often questioned myself and since it is so subtle I promised to leave it for a grand reason. I looked for reasons, something that would give me time enough yet. Then I thought perhaps I will leave it when my first book gets published. That sounded great to me, at least to would give me time to enjoy for quite sometime.
My memory is failing me now, my manuscript must be collecting dust on the publishers’ desk, and my lips are peeling and teeth and gum darkening. If I wait any longer I may not be left with lips to kiss my coming baby. I think I can’t wait to keep the promise. So for no special reason I stopped chewing tobacco, it is the fourth day now. Let the book get published years after, I have already kept the promise, for I couldn’t wait for a reason to do a good thing. Could there be a grander reason than the act of doing it?
Pictures used from Google. ( Picture 2 from http://www.ahajokes.com/fp043.html)
How many of us Bhutanese are Buddhist? Strictly hardly any of us are. Do we care? NO! and this carelessness in us has kept our country at peace so far. The bloodiest wars on earth are fought in the name of religions, thank god we never really bothered to know what religion we are supposed to follow, forget about fighting a war.
Buddhism has deep root in Bhutanese history and it has won faith over centuries. Therefore when a child is born he is a Buddhist by birth. Though half understood and half manipulated in blind faith yet our religion is keeping us happy and at peace. And as long as we have that we are ready to call it our religion.
Of all the things in world religion should be the last thing to play round with, it's a matter of belief and faith and not something that could be thrust upon somebody with power or influence. Religion is of god and soul and all the good things that it should be the last thing to start a war. But what has happened so far everywhere?
We are the last country left, and we are changing- many new religions are breeding in the corners of our streets, and many people are working full time in spreading them. It's like forming gangs, who has the biggest gang has the most power to rule the streets. Buddhism is cool and tolerant and selfless, therefore we never had problems of any sort...now the religions known for wars are coming up in our street, and they are already showcasing groupism and the day is not far when we will have to see Holy Wars!
We don't want any New Religion in our country- STOP RELIGION, STOP WAR we will get nothing more than war and blood in the name of god ( actually it is not god, it is some crazy people doing all these stupid things)
Picture from Google: the ancient Buddha statue in rock before Taliban bombed it down. We didn't say anything. Buddhism is tolerant.
A dance format that has no format at all is called freestyle; even wearing a cap is a big step there, not to mention that any physical stunts you can do will be counted, regardless of whether they go with the beat. That's what I have seen so far in Bhutan- of course I have seen the true freestyle dance on TV and it's no where similar to the ones we see here.
Good thing about the dance is that it is very physical and engaging.and that any hyperactive kid can do it but the bad thing in it that the dance and dancers are everything but decent; from the way they keep their hair, to way they dress, to speak, to their gestures. All these must be normal elsewhere but Bhutan gets shocked. From so far as I have seen and know- beginning from my school- these very dancers are the kids who are least interested in studies and gets involved in troubles, not to mention smoking and doing drugs.
My son is one among these 'future of the country'. He comes home every day with a new step or a story of how people applauded on one of his steps in sheer excitement. He is very sharp though but I was not surprised when he failed in five subjects last summer. As far as the dancing goes I am happy he is one of the bests, but I fear he might lose himself among the rotten habits and never even come back to become what he deserves to be in life.
Last Saturday I went to his school variety show and much to my surprise there was no show if it weren't for his freestyle dance. Crowd went wild at his stunts and I for once thought he is so gifted. But the very next evening, I was at home, I got a call from his class teacher saying my son has broken his finger on the stage. That scared the breath out of me. My wife was almost crying, she felt that the teacher is lying and that the injury must be deadlier. We rushed to his school. Thank god it was only a finger and not his neck, which I know will be if he continues his dance.
Following is the freestyle dance my son performed in his school's Variety Show, the day before he broke his finger:
I am extremely pleased to read a full page coverage on the rising popularity of Bhutanese blogger in the "techno" page of Bhutan Times. Screen shots of four blogs are presented there and surprisingly all four of them are in my blog roll; why was I left out? Ha ha ha, just being funny. The story covers a lot of aspects through interviews with many blogger, some of them were blogging since 2007; it's sad they didn't know I was blogging since 2006 and not body called me up to get an interview.
The story is all pleasing and could draw new people into the techno-hobby. I didn't know Barack Obama was so positive about it but our opposition leader makes the best use of it to get public opinion on his views. Even companies with big websites are resorting to creating blog version of their websites to dash with the popularity of blogs.
The whole world is into it now, there is no greater gift of democracy. Bhutanese are finally learning to accept the gift from the Constitution of Kingdom of Bhutan- the freedom of expression, with clear vision of limit though. But the closing section of the article talks about "Regulating online content?" and I am shocked by some comments there, which are threatening to question the freedom of expression.
The aftershock of the Monday afternoon earthquake is still heavy in my heart; why are all four elements turning against us now? It began with the storm last year, then flood, now earthquake... something has gone terribly wrong somewhere and many of us know where!
Well forget that and look at this moment from a birthday party I attended on Thrul.
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.
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..
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.
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.
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.
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.
