After a couple of days of thick, grievous rain, I sense
spring is here. And what a perfect moment to experience it! Weekend is here, ah. I’d
certainly gang up with my friends; go out for coffee in the town-out in the
open, under warm sun.
Gho and kira are the essence of our national identity. We wear it with love and pride. However, we see around many chilips wearing gho and kira enthusiastically. Some wear it good, perhaps their hosts would be helping them wearing it, beautiful. But we see others wearing it so disgracefully (like in the picture below). But don't you think it's the duty of every Bhutanese citizen to ensure that your guests or chilip friends wearing our costume properly, with dignity?
Indeed, it's the moral responsibility of this Bhutanese man walking next to chilip to help the foreigner wearing his gho properly.
This is what I've been drinking since my childhood. Tongpa. Strong bangchang in it. I'm from Gelephu. In every festival or celebration, we offer our guests with tongpa. In a big celebration like wedding where there will be a huge number of guests, you'll be offered tongpa in bamboo containers.
I’m a youth worker. I work with the only government
organization (Department of Youth and Sports) that looks after youth concerns
in Bhutan. Despite the department’s continued efforts addressing youth concerns
(in collaboration with other youth-related agencies), we are, by each passing
day faced with huge and more challenging youth problems. Now, I’d confess that
youth problems in Bhutan have become beyond our control. And we lack both
technical and manpower capacity to address the current youth concerns.
However, let’s not forget all this. The police department and
BNCA are doing all in their power to curb youth problems. The Gyalpoi Zimpoen’s
Office has been initiating many youth programmes all over Bhutan to engage
youth meaningfully and impart them with life skills. Other youth-related NGOs
are also providing necessary facilities and services, and organizing youth
programmes for our youth.
And there are a few individuals who work altruistically for
youth in Bhutan. One such person is Lam Shenphen. He gathers youth abusing
drugs, provide them necessary counseling and refer them for detoxification.
Tashi Namgay, the founder of Bhutan Kidney Association, is
another individual who walks extra mile for the young people of Bhutan. When I
visited his place last year, I was surprised to see four young boys (drug
abusers) in his house. Tashi keeps these young unemployed addicts with him, in
his house, under strict supervision and counseling. There are also other dozen
of recovering addicts under his care and supervision. Tashi has attached most
of these young addicts as intern, volunteer and part time worker in different organizations
and business firms. Some, under his guidance and supports, are gainfully
employed.
But now, due to increasing social problems (disintegration
of family values, divorce, rural-urban migration, westernization and
materialism, negative impact of social media, availability of drugs and gang
culture) in Bhutan, youth are left vulnerable, indulging in all sorts of social
ills.
And only a few individuals, one youth department and a few
youth-related agencies are never enough to solve the current problems of youth
in Bhutan. Moreover, the ministry of education is designed more towards school
education and curriculums. So looking at youth population (50 percent of
Bhutan’s population) and increasing youth problems, there’s immediate
requirement of Ministry of Youth (or, at least, ministry for social problems)
to address youth problems. With their own ministry, youth’s problems will be
addressed through multi-pronged strategies, with more trained professionals
and technical resources.
Gelephu has been in my heart, core of it. Always. I was born
here. I was grown into adulthood here. Each time I visit Gelephu, um, I get a
huge dose of memories.
But one thing that never fails to fascinate me here, in
particular, is the enormously magnificent plain roads. Roads, here, are not bumpy,
no “turning” where your head starts spinning, causing giddiness and after
sometime puking.
If you’re on a joyride, you’d just love to crane out from
the rear windows and chill out against the cool breeze. If you set out in the
evening, you’d unfailingly notice the sunset (where the sun grows from a faint,
into brighter, bigger and red, then into pink). And I swear you’d watch it,
spellbound, until the end.
Also, you’d see the loveliness of the Gelephu countryside.
Ripening stalks of golden rice, on all sides, stretch clear for acres and acres.
Herds of cattle returning to their sheds after grazing in the meadows. Areca
nuts plants growing tall. Farmers, their heads padded with rumal (cloth piece) and curving sickles in their hands working in
the fields.
You’d feel that there’s space and dignity for everyone here.
Here, people live as all their folk do-with respect, decency and simplicity.
I’m returning to Norbuling MSS, ah, the school I’ve started my
schooling. I studied at this school from Class 3-6. After completing my high
school, a degree certificate in hand and now a dzung wokpa, I’m visiting this school after 14 years.
It’s a two-hour walk from Gelephu, and today this school (established
in 1961) stands feverishly beautiful, silent. It’s on winter vacation, oh. And
it still illuminates in its old glorious architecture, in its persistence grace.
The saplings we had planted, then, during the national forestry days have grown
into admirably handsome trees. And the areca-nut plants, around the academic
building, have already started fruiting. Everything else is same-still wooden
tools (with a hole in the middle) and blackboards are being used in the
classrooms.
This is the school I’ve memories from when I was kid. To me, this
visit is like turning the clock back. I’ll tell you, I got admission in this
school not because of my age, not by my height, not by my background or connection,
not by my smartness. But we had to pass the only admission rule (let’s say
admission criteria). That was, ahem, my right hand over the head must touch my left
ear. I could do that. WOW. And I got admitted in the school.
A hodgepodge of images as a childhood and as an adolescent has
flooded into my mind. Let me tell you, the huge pouch of my school uniform,
especially backside, would be always tattered. Teachers and my parents used to
blame it for my carelessness, unruliness. But, um, I had blamed it for my plate
(aluminum) and camel geometry box.
And this is even funnier-you’d never find pencils, erasers or scales in my
geometry box. Guess what, you’d only find marbles in it. Ha-ha. No matter
what, this was the time (when I was in Class PP) I had a deadly crush on a
beautiful girl from Class 6. It
does happen, even at so young age, ha-ha.
As I march around the school, all the old instincts come rushing
again. I romp around and jump in excitement like a school kid. Then, I stop
abruptly. I stand in front of the assembly ground, the spot, where I had
delivered my morning speeches, my limbs shivering. Forest. Punctuality. Water. Driglam Namzhag. Aro garo. More excitingly,
I reminisce about the day when I had received my life’s first prize in the
inter-school art competition from the, then, Sarpang Dzongda.
I walk in a classroom, Class 3 and is greeted by a vivid memory.
My class teacher was an old Dzongkha lopoen. Before he’d start his session, he used
to push Nu 2 note in my hand and asked me to buy him doma from the nearby shop.
And I used to dart off, scooting, brrrrrr, my hands positioning as if on clause
and escalator and my legs on break. The lopoen would start his session only after
I scooted back with a packet of doma.
All this memories come back, new and fresh. Not just as thoughts,
but as rich and meaningful good olden times. And I sit under a barren tree,
right in front of the school, taking photographs. The sun is setting, turning into
red, then into pink. Under the tree, under the beautiful sunset, I bask in a delicious
nostalgia. And how I wish this time would stay still. It doesn’t. But, oh, the images
of memories do stay still, at least. In our imagination. In our thoughts. In
our mind.
Friends,
it’s time for me to return to blogging after a week-long vacation in Gelephu
with my parents. And I tell you, what a time-together it was. I hope you, too, had spent time with your
beloved ones this solstice. It’s revitalizing in many ways, isn’t it?
But,
today, I’m here to offer you some beautiful photographs I took while I was in
Gelephu. My pictures are of suns and prayer flags against the glorious sky.
I
stopped, walked toward the sun, and took this shot. It is, oh thank god,
awesome.
How
can you expect me to miss the beauty spread out above me in the sky?
As
I took this shot, my mind was spiraling out, Milky Way style.
We
feel, at times, we start missing things even before they have gone. And truly,
this is the one moment!
Oh
good, I realized, when you see beautiful
things you think of the person you love most.
All
I could do was, keep watching and shooting.
Then,
a little while on, I looked and saw the sun turned pink. I was delighted beyond words.
There comes a time, no matter how cold, how dark, how cruel winter
can get, spring would embrace us. And that time is now, that spring is here.
Yesterday evening (all bright, barely cloudy, still all cold
out in the open) while returning my home from office, I spotted a tree budding,
fresh leaves sprouting. Oh! Spring is here, finally.
I was-in a word-ecstatic, ah.
I stopped abruptly, excited. Stopped right there. Branches of
the tree kept dancing with the wind. And I took out my camera, took shots, one
after another. Every snapshot of it, I’ve stolen in my digital lens, has appealed
me, intrigued me.
Flurries of birds were wheeling around in noisy flocks as if
they were welcoming spring, celebrating the warmth, the resurgence. And I, too,
joined these cheerful birds in welcoming spring. I dropped to my knees,
saluting its timely coming and again blessing us with warmness, beauty and love.
