Chatting with my Best Friends

I visited Nepal last month. Its population about 27 millions, Nepal was still striving for its fledging peace and reconciliation process. The entire political system was affected with political divides, regionalism, and corruption.

Unfortunately, this led to economic crisis, poor infrastructure development, poverty, youth unemployment, and brain drain in the country. More shockingly, this deprived millions of young Nepalese from even getting a proper education and reliable source of information and skills. That’s why these young people continued living a difficult life, and were often confused, victimized, and exploited by different political parties.     

However, during my weeklong stay in Nepal, I came across a life skills-based youth radio programme called Sathi Sanga Manka Kura (SSMK), Chatting with my Best Friends. So when feeling isolated, confused, depressed and victimized, every week, 7.2 millions of Nepalese youth turned to this 45-minute radio show, their “Best Friend”.

SSMK Team

First initiated in 2001 by UNICEF Nepal, the SSMK was institutionalized with Equal Access Nepal and being broadcasted from 40 different FM Stations. Today, this radio show has become an essential lifeline, trusted confident, and inspiring best friend to young Nepalese on issues ranging from dating and sexuality, HIV awareness and prevention, to caste discrimination, exploring new livelihoods and participating in Nepal’s politics and policy making. 

With SSMK producers

Those young listeners, often with not much education and no reliable source of information, learnt important life skills and knowledge through on-air discussions, peer-peer outreach programmes, innovative mini-drama, banners, listeners’ clubs, publication of magazines and life skills pamphlets, and web outreach.

An outreach program to highlight the problems of Dhading youth  

It has significantly boosted the youth’s confidence and self-esteem. More importantly, it empowered them to make informed decisions on different issues and inspired them to rise above daily conflicts, stressful circumstances, ignorance and difficulties.

It’s quite exciting to know that that the SSMK received millions of mails (letters, text messages, emails) and calls (toll free) every week. In a week, they received over 25,000 handwritten letters. A large part of the SSMK production team would spend their time reading letters and file them into different categories. By the way, the letters were categorized in 82 different themes.

SSMK host reading out a letter for us

Interestingly, everyone who writes to the SSMK gets a reply with a set of life skills booklets. In each episode of this radio programme, four to five letters were read out and discussed by the co-hosts who suggest possible ways of responding to the senders’ or listeners’ problems using life skills. They solved risky behaviors of young people.

This is why the listeners of the programme, who often were unable to share their intimate feelings and concerns to their friends and family members, started pouring out their fondest hope and deepest fear to the SSMK. This has created a very close and interactive relationship between the young listeners and the show, thereby, the programme hosts feeling like a best friend to millions of Nepali youth.

A Listeners' Club organizing bi-cycle rally to stop female students abuse

Today, Nepal has over 350 FM Stations. Such SSMK program is also replicated in Cambodia, Laos, Niger, Mauritania and Chad. 

Visit the SSMK website here: http://ssmk.org/.

Bhutanese Bloggers' Meet

 

I want to share about this particular meeting, here, right now. This is a sort of minutes to other bloggers who couldn’t make in the last Bloggers’ Meet. Last Monday. In Thimphu. I know you guys would certainly envy us. Regret, too, for not turning up in the Meet.

I say that we enjoyed like “hell”, “crazy” (in the participating bloggers’ own words). The scheduled time of the Meet was inconsiderably forgotten, and we stayed there until midnight. We were nine, including two Singaporean bloggers: Ms. Rima (http://reeverking.blogspot.com/) and JJ (http://yeejj.wordpress.com/). As they loved Bhutan very much, so were they here, with us.         

Our idea of this Bloggers’ Meet was just simple – just to meet and spend our time together. So we began our gathering from 7 in the evening. However, we waited for some more bloggers to come. Even we phoned them. But that’s it - only nine of us.

As we seated for the Meet, I was quite surprised to see bottles of liquor being pulled out from the bloggers’ bags and placed on the table, one after another. Whiskey. Wine. Arra. Ya lama! Some have brought snacks (bhujia and corn chips).

But blogger Kunzang Thinley brought us apples that he bought on the way from Paro. He made to this Meet, all the way from Paro. We were impressed. By the way, his apples were very delicious. But don’t ask Mr. Passu and Aue Tshering Dorji, for they loved biting more on whiskey.     

    

The Meet started so informally. Passu spearheaded the conversation, for he is the champion of Bhutanese bloggers. Indeed, we needed no introduction. As we sipped on liquor, we talked about our blogs, our writings, our family, and our works. We shared our aspirations, genuine admirations for each other. Moreover, we exchanged our imperishable passion for blogging, writing.

I felt so proud. After all, I was in the company of the very best bloggers and writers of Bhutan. The bloggers and writers who recognized the value and power of writing blogs and books, and who worked hard to bring change through writing. And talking to them was a unique experience for me.

In the meantime, we sat around the bonfire. Still sipping on whiskey, wine and arra. Still chatting. But this time, our conversation becoming more louder, more straight, more confronting, more informal. Because it’s not only the fire that was burning outside, but inside of us too, heated by the liquor. Also blended by another passion fire - our passion for blogging.     

Above all, it’s the ideas and wisdoms that we shared, and the inspiration inspired by the conversation during the Meet that hugely heartened us. This luxuriously long meeting really stirred our passion for blogging even more. 

Thank you all!

On becoming 30

Today, it’s a beautiful day out here. By the way, I’m here in Nepal for a business trip. The place, people and hospitality here are all just incredible and so impressive. But dear friends, allow me to share a small talk here about this day. Today. Because September 4 is so so important day of my life.

Ah, you guessed it right. It’s the day I was born. And how wonderful it’s to sit here, in a new place, and put my birthday thoughts into words like this to you.

However, this year’s birthday of mine is significantly special for me. For two different reasons. Firstly, this is the first time I’m celebrating my birthday outside Bhutan. Secondly, today, right now, I’ve turned 30. Oh my god, 30 years old!

To tell you honestly, I feel that it’s quite stupid being 30. For, I’m just not ready. It feels weird. Like somebody’s pushing me from behind, he-he. There’s still a child-like nature and curiosity inside me.     

But I can accept it with mingled feelings. After all, it’s only age - just a number that adds up automatically after each passing year. Isn’t it?

That’s what I prefer to think about it, at least for now.

“Dear Riku, you are a man now,” a beloved friend of mine messaged me this morning. And I would like to believe that I’ve become “a man”.

However, I don’t know anything about becoming “a man” now. I can certainly say that I’m privileged to have been still living and moving on with my life. Every single day I get snappy and short and frustrated and aggravated with my life. Yet I can sense that now my life is more rooted, become more firm. It buoys me.      

So, today, as I step into 30s, I wish to become wiser. And realign my life’s sojourn, live a happier life. Because the wisdom comes only with age, right? I’m not a wise person though. But I dare say that I’m getting there, a little at a time.   

I say a heartfelt thank you to all those who wished me on this year’s birthday. A wonderful day, dear friends!

Miti – friendship mightier than a blood relation

My house, back in my village, was unusually different that day. People of all walks of life in and around the village stopped their fieldwork, and arrived at my house. All of them wore their fresh clothes, neat hair.

The smell of delicious foods flooded everywhere, and the laughter of children simply filled the air. It was a breathlessly exciting day in the village, everyone around looked happy. By the way, it’s not wedding or any other pujas taking place in the house. A miti ceremony was taking place between my father and his friend. They have long known each other; were good friends.

However, that day they decided to become mit, a friend in Hindu culture that was considered way precious than a blood relation. It was widely practised in the southern Bhutan, but now gradually disappearing. And to become a mit with your friends, you had to undergo the miti ceremony, rather vigorously.

All the villagers, relatives and children crammed in a place where the ceremony was taking place. My father and his friend sat on the mats facing each other, all cheerful and a little bit nervous too. Their wives (and my own mothers) seated next to them.

The village elder began the ceremony, chanting a prayer. It had lots of rituals, in fact, to be followed solemnly. After the prayer was said and done, two friends were barred with a cloth piece, signifying that they were before strangers.

They prostrated to each other.

The cloth piece was removed, meaning that now they were no more strangers. Again, they prostrated. For the next bit of time, they exchanged khadars and gifts.

The village elder, once again, continued the prayer as the two friends exchanged rings. The prayer ended, the rings exchanged - eventually, they were pronounced as miti, precious friends.

The two friends, tied the miti knot, would remain as miti, for eternity. They would unfailingly show respect for each other and consider enormous support for each other, in any circumstances.

Then the two miti would go around the room, talking to the fellow-villagers. They would put tika on their foreheads and distribute money to each and every one. In return, they would receive blessings and prayers from all the villagers. 

Refreshments and alcohols were distributed to all the guests, young and old. After that, a feast was served, delicious shel roti and lunch.  

As the night fell on the day, more people gathered. It meant more foods, more drinks. Some would play cards. Young boys, neatly dressed, would court the village beauties. Others would drink and dance hard, all night, until the next dawn.

Note: I wrote this post only to record the miti ceremony. It was hugely practised in the past in southern Bhutan, but today gradually disintegrating. Also, it’s to remember the powerful legacy of my family, and place, what I am born into, what we pass down, and what we preserve. 

Pulling closer my beloved ones

 

I fell sick. Worst of all, I was bedridden. But quite amazingly, all my siblings and friends have attended to me. They rendered all kinds of supports they could do for me - taking me to the hospital, buying me medicines, cooking foods. All this really worked magic on me. Because today I’m recovered and doing all good.

I feel that I’m blessed.       

And so, going forward, I want to tell you how I had muddled my health. I hate to say it though. For the past six months, I was insanely lost in the busyness. I think I’ve to call it workaholic. I had become that person.

I didn’t know it’s a disease until I fell sick. This, in fact, is the ultimate effect of it. Isn’t it? Being a workaholic is the recipe for bad life, best I could tell. It didn’t permit me to enjoy the beauty of life. Always, I was caught in the busy and demanding situation of life.

Hard to say, but I had less or no time for what I loved to do. I didn’t read much. I didn’t write lots, too. I forgot to watch the sunset. I hardly visited my siblings, relatives and friends. And barely did I spend quality time with them, on them. In actuality, I was building wall against them, shunning myself away in my own work.

That being said, I missed a lot of things like that, big and little.        

However, this realization came early. Thank goodness. It’s all that my health couldn’t really tolerate it anymore. Oh, how fragile we are. How vulnerable we are. The world’s tremors and storms could easily maul us.

So all we have is who we have. Our beloved ones. When I was sick and when my own beloved ones were standing near, I felt way better. I feel safe and blessed when I’m surrounded by them.   

From right then, I started saying NO to many things. I resigned from Go Youth Go (GYG). And also I discontinued a few other projects and simply declining taking more.

Now I’m pulling my siblings and relatives even closer. To spend more time with them. To join and cherish the spontaneous laughter with them. They are the greatest gifts of all and all that.

Also, I’m spending much of my weeks in the company of my soul friends. We get better when we open our hearts to them. And a comforting hug, a sincere smile, a word of encouragement often makes our day a little happier and less hard.

Share your flowers, share happiness

I know my friend Tashi Namgay would be very proud to see this flower - blooming beautiful, red. What’s there for you bigger joy than seeing your own flower from your garden taken away by your friend and blooming now out there?

Two years back, I got this flower from Tashi’s house. A tiny sapling. Immediately, it sprouted into two. So I gave away another to my college friend. In fact, it’s the first flower I planted for my new house, then. And blooming, too. I also got others, but they withered, died.

Now this flower, stemmed into two big separated organs, really beautifies my apartment. Sometimes, it attracts humming bees, colourful dragonflies and even unknown insects. Everyday, I protect it from the wind and rain. 

It gives me boundless joy and happiness just to nurture it, water it, moreover, just to behold it.

Please share your flowers, share happiness. 

Photograph

I miss those times when I used to sit for hours and write for my blog. I do, really. Even I miss those times when I used to jump from one blog to another reading your wonderful posts. Eh, my blog has remained un-updated for almost two weeks now. I’ve a lame excuse here, though, I was busy. But dear readers, I’ve here photograph of a beautiful flower that I took it today in my office garden. Have a wonderful day!

She strums my heart's melody

The July rain was pouring down, and kept pouring. Endlessly. I sat in my veranda, sipping my coffee. And I watched the rain. I listened to its sound. There’s, ah, so much dance in the rain! So much joy!

It’s – in a word - magical.  

But in the midst of this overwhelming rain, I began to hear a song. Very faintly though. It flowed in, in my ears, from far afar. It, for surety, was not the sound of water, but of mortals. 

The mojo of my feeling was distorted, abruptly. For this song has enfolded me. Initially, in a warm, intimate mood. And then, it put me in a strange feeling. It’s like a kind of melancholic feeling. I can’t really bring myself to put it into words. 

I turned my gaze around, and looked for from where the song was coming. For in so doing, eventually, I caught sight of it. It’s just a handful yards away. She was a young lady, beautiful too. Seated in my next door neigbour’s veranda, she was strumming the guitar and singing. All alone.

As she played the guitar, she would close her eyes and shake her head to the melody of guitar. And she sang to her heart’s content,

When you touch me like this

And when you hold me like that

It was gone with the wind

But it's all coming back to me

It’s the Celine Dion’s ‘It's all coming back to me now’. I went on watching her play guitar, and sing. In awe. I could hear her, this time, much louder - it’s, I suppose, the rain slowed down.

In a little while, I felt a pang of utter sadness deep inside my heart. Was it because of her song? Was it because of the rain? Or, both?

I don’t know.

Because the truth is that I was so bewitched. Yes, by this young lady; more tellingly, by her song.

Then suddenly, something started cramming inside me. In an endless stream, though. My heart swelled with an endless downpour of heavy emotions. Like the rain outside.

To put it precisely, the lady’s song has really strummed in my heart. It stirred the core of my heart, and unknotted all its stitches. So my emotions unraveled, pouring down.

    

Some of my emotions carried a warm and affectionate feeling. Others were a chilling and dampen experience. They had been bruised and broken by the brutal thunder and lightning of life. Also, they are limned with loss of beloved ones, broken relationships and failures.

In each memory, there are parts of me back there, broken off and left with him or her or them or time or place. And I ached for them. I yearned for them. I cried.

So, going forward, I want to say this too. For years, I had forgotten all those moments, emotions and feelings. They had long remained dormant inside me.

However, what she had stirred in me was a part of my very self. My past, my feelings, my works, my personality, and my relationship with different people, place and things define who I am today. All this create me.

 

Outside, it continued raining. At the veranda, this beautiful lady continued signing,

The flesh and the fantasies

All coming back to me

I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now