I had just arrived Gelephu for a fortnight-long official
tour. Warm air gushed forth in a bus I was travelling from Thimphu. The air was
humid, thick. It, uh, suffocated me. And even to catch my breath for me had
become, so unexpectedly, difficult.
*Sigh*
I was seated in the bus, doing nothing, my arms and legs
akimbo. But my body got heated automatically. In a while, my body started streaming
with sweat and it drenched my shirt completely bringing a touch of nauseous. Yuck,
I felt as if I were bathing in sweat.
Even at 6 pm, the sun in Gelephu would be bright, beastly
hot. Temperature, eh? It’d be, rather roughly, about 36 Degree Celsius. And you
know what? Gelephu has got one of the hateful winds. It remains stagnant, sun
heated.
What made my trip worse was that Gelephu
hardly saw rain in the last two weeks. Often, it had been sunny, hard, brutal
heat. Now I understood why people of this region are burnt skins. Men,
generally, wear half vest and half pants. Women wear cotton lungi, a garment hanging from waist till
toe, and thin blouse. And all wear slippers.
At almost all meeting places and markets, tall notification boards
read,
You are now in the
malaria endemic area, beware of malaria and dengue!
And it says that malaria and dengue leads to “complication
and death”.
Scary, na? I had some anti-malarial creams and always used bed
net at night. Still then, it’s frightening to stay here in summer. You know all
threats: humid air, hot sun and heat, malaria and dengue. What else? Hoo-ha, poisonous
snakes and leeches too.
When home, I read a little, not a lot, but sweat streamed
down relentlessly. Electric fan only blows a warmer current of air. I dozed off.
In two weeks, for god’s sake, I could complete, with much difficult, only the
first chapter of a novel. I wanted to write, but I suffered from a block. It’s due to humid air suffocating
me, blocking my creative thinking. And the worst thing? Even thinking was
exhausting. It made me sweat and weary.
Give me a break!
Did I say about my sleepless nights? Well, I spent all
nights tossing and turning in my bed. Sleepless. Because the mosquito netting had
further suffocated me. And even inside your net, this blood sucking creature would
bite you. Jedha. Yes, even after you
had applied anti-malarial creams on your body.
In a day, my skin burnt. Gosh, this burn was an intense
pain! I brought sun block creams all the way from Thimphu. But sweat would wash
it away from your body. And you’re exposed to that dangerous sunlight called
UV, unprotected.
Oh, I forgot to tell you one more thing. It’s about my duty
(official) in Gelephu. Under the burning sun, I set off to work at 10 am. In my
workplace, I’d just put on fan, stay idle, robotic and dull, gazing up at ceiling.
And lost, rather ominously. Psst! I attempted to work on my PC. Oh, it’s just another
vain attempt. Then, I’d lie down on a divan, almost entire day snoring,
exceedingly tired. I was, yeah, exhausted by the hardest of summer sun. Forget
about meeting my friends or even date, I couldn’t even walk out of my house.
I wouldn’t whine anymore, he-he!
However, as the days rolled into weeks, well, I had started
taking pleasure in things and people in Gelephu. I had, so automatically, ultimately
adjusted here. I always used to believe that in time things change and we,
humans, have supreme capacity within to adjust to any places. I was not sure
precisely how, but with perseverance, I discovered now, would everything be perfect
in the end. There’s something good, and kind, and gentle for everyone
everywhere. Now, I feel, I’ve become a part of Gelephu. I’m burnt skins,
suntanned. I wear half vest, half pants. And sleepers on my feet. I sweat, yet
I can walk and work. Without grumbling.