Paro – the paradise on earth

The late afternoon sun was beating down gently over the valley. I opened my umbrella, and set off outside. Walking. I wanted to stroll around this beautiful valley of Paro and explore everything in my short stay here. For, I’ve always loved Paro. So much. If there’s a paradise on earth, then Paro truly is.

Paro Town, located at an altitude of 2250m above the sea level, has bosomed a population of over 20,000. This small town stunningly retains a distinct traditional architecture with richly decorated buildings. It’s very unique and profound.  

As I passed over the street, I carefully scanned it - the shops, small buildings, and natives. The town, serene and splendid, sells local weaving products, precious imported stones, local vegetables and fruits, and antique silverwares. It gave me a beguiling charm.

I marched out of the town, and a dozen minutes’ strolling down a road has brought me to a vast plain, lush and green with rice grown abundantly.

I walked in the field, and was greeted by a group of farmers, all weeding together. As they worked, they sang, cheerfully. The songs of rustics, the songs of theirs, of their own creations, inherited from their ancestors. Meanwhile, they would crack jokes and break into loud laughs. I couldn’t help myself from joining them, so I removed my shoes and jumped into their company.

I helped them pulling out weeds as I joined laughter with them. The sun was heavy on our backs, but it didn’t, at all, deter us from laughing and working. And, my new found mates kept singing, they kept laughing.

My small observation has found that these farmers live in a plentitude and bliss, owing to their fertile valley. Politics seems so trivial a matter for them; whereas, the materialism has been remained all the more secondary. They remain firm and rooted to what they have been doing for generations – practising a simple, strong and happy life, their culture and values ever integrated. 

After that I walked a footpath, uphill, that follows a tiny village way up on the mountain. On the way, I met farmers leaving for their homes after the day’s farm work, grateful and happy. We exchanged greetings, Kuzuzangpola. We exchanged, too, serene smile.   

On this hilltop, beside a prayer flag pole, I sat down. The hill has amazing views looking down at the valley, the wide and beautiful valley of Paro. Paro Chu, flowing gently south, feeds the entire valley, the farmlands.

On the hill other side, Paro Rinpung Dzong, a fortress stands overlooking this giant piece of Paro valley as if safeguarding the valley since eternity. Right above the Dzong stands an ancient watchtower called Ta Dzong, the National Museum of Bhutan. It’s so fascinating to see a medieval bridge, built in ornate style, over the Paro Chu, further decorating the place.

As I stood on the hilltop, still looking down, I remembered everything about the valley. All that I had studied in the classrooms, during my school days. Names of the legends. Dates. Incidents. Everything. One by one, they came as a rich and significant history, slowly understood. The valley is full of legends, heroism, glories, and natural splendor.

I remembered and understood, gradually, how this Rinpung Dzong had served as an effective defense against numerous Tibetan invasion attempts. Also, I recalled when Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyel came here in 1616 from Tibet and established dual system of governance. More eloquently, I remembered how the Paro Poenlop was defeated by Ugyen Wangchuk, the Trongsa Poenlop at the end of 19^th century and became the first king of Bhutan in 1907.

All this culminated what Bhutan still is a sovereign and peaceful nation. Perhaps Paro could be the place from where the concept of Gross National Happiness has been inspired and proliferated.  

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!