Saturday, April 16, 2011

The Joy that Sky can’t hold, but her little Heart can

Assume that you and I were good buddies. Our office was just over and the intermittent rain is showering here in Thimphu. We parked our car outside and cruised into a cozy restaurant, relaxed over a good cup of tea and began a conversation. But, hey, today I will talk and you will listen to me, alright?
I will narrate you a story of my six-year old little sister. It was the fondest memory lurking persistently in my mind, and I laugh each time I recollect it.
My sister, a little princess to me, is a Class PP student at Changzamtog PS. She has red cheeks and is adorable and lively. She looks fairy, gentle and unaggressive. Her hobbies include reading fairytale stories, painting, playing scrabbles, singing nursery rhymes, possessing toys and wearing fairy dress. Beside nagging parent, ata and ana, she has a modest ounce of anger, jealousy and fear.

Her little room is filled with fairytale books, color pencils, bright gowns, toys and magical sticks. The room’s walls were scribbled expansively with crayons and color pencils signaling the expression of her unbounded fantasy and imagination.
Last September, her school organized annual school cultural show. This show was the perfect opportunity for my little princess cast away to a fairy land of magical and supernatural worlds.

Well, escaping to a world of fairies inhibited by magical and mythical creatures was her dream. In real sense, she hates her life in real world as she is intolerant to grief, violence, hatred, suffering and hunger.

The show offered her with plentiful fairy folklore and fun-filled, open-ended activities set against beautiful backgrounds with spell-binding imagery on the school auditorium stage. Beside sweeping her to an enchanting world, this truly provided her a delightful opportunities for exploration and creativity.

A handful of days before the show, my little princess nagged me to buy her a pink gown for her role in an item where she was chosen to enact Snow White. I took her to children shops and bought her a bright gown, circlet crown and a pair of opera gloves. Though trivial, it brought an instant glow to her naive heart, made her most zesty. In advance, my family also booked tickets for her school show. All in buoyed smiles, she desperately longed for the show day like a princess in wretchedness waiting for prince to arrive and rescue her from the enchantress garden.

Finally the cultural day came. Along with my parents, I went to her school to watch it. As soon as she saw us, she clambered down the school auditorium’s stairs in a halo of lights as lovely as princess in a fairy tale. Her cultural coordinator dressed my little princess admirably beautiful. Her face whitened with compact, her hair braided, her hands in gloves and circlet crown on her head. She looked starkly attractive-fairest of all. 

Surprise, disbelief and thrill, all crushed into her-unequaled in her life by any festival or her birthday present. In a fury of excitement, she started showing us her dress turning round again and again explaining in details how her teacher adorned her and how much she liked it. She also went on describing about her rehearsal and the role of Snow White she was going to enact. I thought she would faint for joy. Ha-ha!

I took her pictures randomly. Then we dropped her at the exit door of the stage and we entered into the hall to watch the program. Yuck! Her cultural item was already over by the time we seated inside the hall. It’ll be crushing devastation to my sister, I feared. My little princess never appeared on stage even when the program was over. It’s unbelievably funny, though.

We returned to the stage. My little princess was standing near the backstage door, still exalting in excitement, unmindful that she had missed her cultural item. Her effort though to us was left unceremoniously; however, for her little heart the joy she grasped that evening despite missing her item was insuperable.

And, as we returned home, my little princess still glowed in a triumphant mood oblivious of her failure to enact. Far from being disconcerted, she even didn’t look askance about going home before enacting her ‘Snow White’ dramatization on the stage. Nothing did thwart the progress of her joy. Nothing!

Her inner sanctum of a temple shone uninterruptedly. I know she will never know a joy so vast as she experienced that evening. For my little sister, the whole day was like riding on the charming prince’s horse over a magical hill. Then, finally, she slept afterwards, happy and content.

“Hey, my sister’s story would have bored you,” I exclaimed at you as I sipped my tea last. We went to the counter and clear the bill and depart home.

But, eh, one last thing! How will my sister react when I narrate this same story to her when she grows adult? Perhaps she would laugh uncontrollably at herself in retrospect.

Note: Special thanks to Sonam Dendup for sharing this story of his sister to me and permitting to write and publish the story on my blog. The title of this story was also suggested by him.


  1. Oh Sir, I very much liked to read it Sir. And Towards the end, you mentioned that Sir Sonam Dhendup's Story. I know him Sir, and I have seen his little sister too. As you are friends with Sir Sonam, I am with his youngest Brother Ugyen. So, when I realized that it was Ugyen's sister, I again read it and this time, I could imagine the little angel. She surly is a sweet child.

    Anyways, keep on writing Sir... I shall be around.

  2. Oh! Sonam told that his younger brother studies in South India. And glad to know that he is your friend. But this story is real and his little is real angel like the way i described in this story or even more. She is real cute!

  3. yes sir, she is real cute. But I am not frens with the one who studies in south india. I am frens with the one who studies in CST Sir. And Sir, please do update your blog Sir. I very much like your posts..

  4. Nice read as always!! But i dont understand why Sonam Dhendup is referred to as "she" at the end of the story. Maybe some typo error i believe or i read it wrong....

  5. Dawa, Ugyen is real talented boy, hard working and creative. I think he is a good buddy to you. Thanks for reading my blog and you also keep posting. @rekkha, i very much like ur comment n made change there. i knw u went thru my story very attentively. But i thank only one person in my life 4 making me read so voraciously and write extensively-that's u. for each article i cud write now or read bulky novel i thank u wholeheartedly. thanks 4 all this! but u too keep reading and writing coz this is the biggest asset we can ever possess in our lives

  6. his(sonam dendu) little heart can hold..for his heart is pure and the purity he sees in evrythg makes things lovely and it!

  7. I couldn't stop smiling till the end of the post...The natural innocence of children is something I cherish....Very nice post :)