Timelessness

10 days. That I've been living here in my village of Chuzagang. With my family. And here,  I feel that I am living in a different place, the place of timelessness.

I don't get to keep the track of days of the week. Date too. We forget it all. If needs arise, we ask people about it. 

Life in my village, the perfect peasantry life, is not dictated by time and appointments, but by intuition and nature. Every morning, I wake up by the alarm of rooster's cry. It's quite amazing. Our meals and works, according to the sun's position and stars up in the sky. The seasons so announced by the kinds of wild birds' arrivals and departure.

I am very much enjoying each piece of time here with my parents. I grew dark, like those villagers, my skin burnt and my limbs hardened coz of working every day in the field. 

We have here no TV, no internet and the 3G service very disruptive. To get 3G service in my phone,  I have to walk to certain areas in here. It takes almost half day to complete posting a single post on my blog.

However, to keep myself abreast with the world outside, I always listen to my father's radio. I started liking some of the BBS radio jockeys already. Also, I listened to BBC radio.

To spend time with my beloved ones

I am here in Chuzargang on a month long holiday.  A little village, it's a full two hours walk from Gelephu. It's a special place, and so are its people, at least to me. For, it's the place where my patents live.  For, it's the place where I was born, attended school and grew up.

So this year, this fresh year, I feel the urgent need to spend a small time with my patents and my beloved ones. The world is fragile, I believe. All we have is who we have. When I am with my own patents and siblings, standing close, it feels way better and safe.  More importantly, it makes our life much simpler and wonderful, the one that we can't find elsewhere.

By the way, I am blogging using my phone. It's very slow and difficult, but I am loving it. 

Mobile library bus for the book lovers

 

My heart leapt with joy when I first spotted the mobile library bus parked near my apartment in Motithang yesterday. Instantaneously, I ran into the bus and was filled with boundless happiness to see over a thousand books inside the bus, in the book shelves. It has mostly children books, but also has books for adults like that of novels and self-help and management books. 

I was so very excited that I called those children playing around the park and road to visit the mobile library. As they entered the bus, they expressed their shock at what they have witnessed. Wonderful books inside the bus, oh. For them too, it’s simply unbelievable. They jumped, happiness spiraled in them.

We were 20 in about a dozen of minutes, nestling in different corners and shelves, browsing and reading books. All the readers were young, except me. Along with them, this group of young readers, I picked up a book and read excitedly.

When they read, how sweet, their eyes sparkled and their faces glowed in a smile of joy. They savoured great pleasures from reading the books and expressed constant amazement as they opened every new page. It gave me a rejuvenated feeling. So I walked around and talked to them. I befriended them, each one.

The bus left, but we stayed back there, still talking. You know what we have so much to talk about, so many things in common. My new found young friends - the friends made through the mobile library bus, the books – are all ardent readers of books.

We exchanged a small talk and there I discovered that we share similar passion and thoughts – that we read books, we buy them, and we love the fragrance of books. We celebrate books because we are the lovers of stories, lovers of words. Above all, we protect books.

Again and again we promised to meet next time, at the same place, in the same library bus. We departed, so grateful, for we found new book lovers, the book friends through this wonderful initiative of Thimphu Thromde and Save the Children.

For your information, this mobile library bus travels to Changedaphu, Motithang Children Park, Centenary Park, Police Camp, Serbithang, Olakha, Lungtenphug and Taba Army Camp on the weekends. The bus is manned by the staff of Jigme Dorji Wangchuck Public Library and donated by Save the Children. It also provides membership: Nu 100 for adults; Nu 50 for children and students.

A small thing with big heart

Out in the open, on the way to my office, I came across a group of 6 boys abusing drug (dendrite). It was in the last week of the month of November 2013. I observed them carefully and went closer to them. It’s very painful to see this.

They even didn’t notice me standing there as they were so high on drug. I need to stop these boys from taking more drugs, that’s the first thought that crossed my mind instantly.  

So I intervened. I asked them to stop it. But they just ignored me and kept on inhaling the drug.

Then I grabbed their hands and snatched three dendrite-filled plastics and one 250 ml fevicol container (dendrite inside). I pushed all in my gho’s pocket. This was the time they reacted, loudly and rudely. And I could sense fury radiating from each one of their bodies.   

“Fuck, jedha, give it back to me!” one of the boys demanded, with a disgusted look on his face.

I shook my head, and he turned back screaming, “Awww! You never know how much we had struggled to get it. Give it back, dhaaa.”

Others looked me straight in the eye, anger and frustration written all over their faces. Not long after that they mobbed me - a few rubbed their hands each other, others aiming to hit me.

I realized, then, that I could be mauled at anytime. So I walked out of this drugged group of young men. But they started following me, in a gang, hissing all dirty words and readying to attack me. To me, it felt like a bad rap. But I digested it. For they are youth. For it’s all for their good purpose.

Immediately, I ran to my office. But I straightaway went to the office cafeteria and ordered tea. As I sipped on my tea, disturbed and exhausted, this group of boys came searching for me. This time I became absolutely nervous.  

All of them, six boys, marched towards me and stood in front of me.

“Acho, we are here to apologize. Sorry for everything. We will never do it again,” a lean boy walked forward and apologized to me. They have become all sober.

It touched me and I grew teary. I pulled chairs and asked them to sit around me. We had tea and momo together, cracking jokes and sharing laughter.

Meanwhile, I asked them jokingly, “I think this is your first time?” One responded it’s his second try, others’ third and fourth. They also confessed that they bought the drug from a labourer’s camp in Thimphu.

After that I invited them to my office. In my office, we chitchatted. And there I discovered their interest. They really love playing futsal, and they too have a team. I discussed with them about organizing a futsal competition. They really liked my idea and even they wanted to help me. I took their names and contact address and promised them that I would contact them very soon.

 

Later that day, I talked about this competition with my office colleagues. Initially getting the fund worried me, but I was very lucky that my office and a donor agency committed to support this competition.

After one month, we organized the competition with support from 40 youth volunteers. And it’s very successful. More than 126 young boys took part in this competition including those six boys. 

The winners

So here I share with you these lines by Mitch Albom,

“People who do bad things are always around bad things. We must provide them an option to do good things.”

In writing the first page of the year 2014

Today, this morning, I just sit here, outside on my veranda. It’s quiet and frosty. There is nothing much to see, but the barren valley of Thimphu - the colour siphoned out, trees naked, bushes disappeared and the air extremely chill. The people are yet to come out for their office, students are on winter vacation. Almost instantly, the sun starts rising on the morning of the day; more accurately, the first day of the New Year. 2014. 

I shiver here in the cold and pull my sweater tighter. Leaning on the veranda, I rest my cheek on my hand and watch the gentle morning sunlight leisurely flooding Thimphu valley fetching the first warmth of the morning, of the year. Right below my veranda, a flock of pigeons is huddling on the ground, resting their wings and receiving the sun heat.

As I stay on here overcome with both excitement and wonder, I receive a text message from my soul friend. It’s the New Year wish. He too attached a wonderful quote. It reads,

“We will open the book.  Its pages are blank.  We are going to put words on them ourselves.  The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.” 

I believe it's said by Edith Lovejoy Pierce. So today, we’ve simply opened the first “unspoiled page” of the year 2014, isn’t it? Here, I’ve just begun to writing it down in the pages of this New Year, of the book of my life. However, this time, I am writing more carefully, choosing my words with care. And I wish to fill the pages of this New Year, my life, with more colourful, honestly raw and blissful words, with grateful and magical feelings.     

I know that I will struggle in putting down words in the year’s book. Because the course of my life ahead is certainly not always a smooth ride as I believe that our life’s journey will take us to mountain tops, sometimes through hills and through plains.

But I will pause and contemplate, all that to say. Ponder. To listen to the inklings of my heart. I will write slowly to catch up on what is really important and truly enjoyable to decorate the book of time, the book of my life.

The cycle of land, plant and season will take its own time and this barren Thimphu valley that I see from here, my veranda, will once again spring into blossoms as all things do. I know that. I know that too well. Oh, how I wish to write about all this - seasons, colours, beauty, change.

Dear readers, there’s still more to say, yet I cannot think of anything else to write here. Perhaps I’m too excited, for today’s the New Year. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! 

A born painter

More than 410 youth have been attending Winter Youth Program in Thimphu. And this kid, presumably 3 years old, is the youngest member of the program. Deliciously cute, he attends the Painting Class everyday.

Yesterday I walked in the Painting Class to observe it, and surprisingly I spotted this kid in the painting room.

I inquired the painting teacher. “He is a member, and attends the class regularly,” the teacher replied me, adding, “Everyday he sneaks into the Painting Class with his elder siblings.”

Little annoyed, I asked the teacher to send him back home. Because we take in the program only those youth and children between ages of 10 to 24 and this kid is too young.

As soon as this kid heard me, he furiously ran towards a corner of the room. And he started scribbling on a shit of paper with his pencil, doing his paintings. I went close to him; he ignored me and kept himself absolutely occupied in his paintings.

With his mates

I continued watching at him. And this time, at his paintings, more curiously. The way he moves his little brush, the way he concentrates, the way he curls his mouth, and the way he dresses the white paper with paints ran me all speechless.

It’s quite inspiring to know that, even without proper schooling and master, he has been gripped by the painting passion. And the way he ignored me and occupied himself with the images of objects in front of him is truly his calling to be a great painter.

As I looked at his paintings, more closer, he was not only painting what he has in front of him, but was also expressing what he sees inside himself, his thoughts, his calling. He is a born painter!  

Singing “Norwegian Wood” in Tokyo

I visited Japan last summer, for the first time, and I considered myself lucky. We’ve all heard much about this country - the land of the rising sun - famous and hallowed and grand.

Long before, this incredible nation stole my heart. That time I read a gorgeous novel. “Memoirs of a Geisha”. By Arthur Golden. This book largely talks the magical art of a geisha and her struggling, but I chose to adore the sensual description of beautiful landscapes of Kyoto and Tyoko and their social values and integrity.

More importantly, I’ve learnt so many other things about Japan (especially Tokyo, Kyoto and Kobe) from Haruki Murakami, the creator of about a dozen of masterpiece books like that of my favorites, “Norwegian Wood” and “The Wind-up Bird Chronicle”. I fell in love with Haruki and his beautiful country, Japan. And ever since I wanted visit this country, embrace it, experience wonderful moments.

So in Japan, last summer, I travelled around and stayed in Chiba, Yokohama, Tokyo and Asakusa. I was absolutely fascinated by the edgy, stylish and high-street conformity of these cities, which is to tell you, the ultimate shopping mecca. The people very gorgeous, the streets perfectly organized and clean, and the technology unbelievably advanced.    

I walked many roads, ran across a sea, passed through parks, met many people and dined in several ethnic restaurants. Noticing everywhere, and feeling everything.

All this reminded me something, deep inside, remotely familiar. And I nervously felt that I’ve walked those roads, felt the touch of the wind, the smell of summer, heard the sound of the sea, and tasted those foods. Already.  

I had realized, then, that how much a book can impact readers. Because all this that I read in the books, wonderful books by Haruki and Arthur. Reading a good book is amazing, and travelling to that place is truly the second visit. Believe me. 

One fine morning, I sat in a park near the Sky Tree in Tokyo drinking pepsi that I bought from the vending machine. The Sky Tree, the park, the summer air, and the people walking by instantaneously reminded some lines from Haruki’s masterpiece, “Norwegian Wood”.

“I sat here for a long time, watching…people passing… This was an early summer day. The people we passed carried their jumpers or jackets over their shoulders or in the arms. Everyone looked happy in the warm Sunday afternoon sun.”

It buoyed me so much to do and experience exactly what this wonderful writer wrote in his book. And immediately, I asked a passerby about Haruki and his address. I couldn’t meet him, but I knew where he stays in Tokyo. 

It rained on my last night out there, not so heavy though. I ordered a cocktail in my hotel room. As I sipped on it, I watched the endless rain beyond the window pouring down over the city lights. It looked mesmerizing. The cocktail and the summer rain intoxicated me, and urged me to sing a song, the Beatles’ “Norwegian Wood”,

                                   I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me...

                                   She showed me her room, isn't it good, norwegian wood?

                                   She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,

                                   So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

                                   ..……

The Norzin Lam Street

This is a very recent, and of course, strange development taking place in Thimphu. You simply have to walk down the Norzin Lam Street, opposite Etho Metho Plaza. 9 pm onwards. There, you can see an unusual crowd of about a hundred people. Men and women. Young and old. All. And you would just scratch your head, get yourself into a wondering. 

“What’s going on here at this hour? It’s already midnight,” that’s my reaction when I first saw it.   

So you go closer. Now you can see them drinking, munching, gobbling. Laughing too. At the lane’s side, about 30 people line up. Around them, they have thermo flasks, containers and pots. Yes, they sell hot drinks and snacks. Tea. Porridge. Puri. Momo…lots other.  

Let me explain to you that it’s mostly the partygoers who herd here, at the Norzin Lam Street. It’s quite strange that even after guzzling oodles of whisky and cocktails in the nightclubs, they still have to graze here for cup of hot tea and porridge. 

The office goers too flock here, after working late in their offices. Now this place has become so hugely popular amongst the partygoers and late night office goers. 

To add one more thing, this place is perfectly peaceful, very well-organized. You can even see the night patrolling and traffic policemen sipping tea and porridge here in perfect harmony - perhaps as sheyra for them. And quite wondrously, you don’t hear residents nearby complaining about it.

At the lane, in the crowd, you can also come across a small boy selling thukpa and tea. And he timidly shouts at you, “Lopoen, thukpa, thukpa! Hot suja also!” 

He is a class three student of Zilukha LSS in Thimphu, that’s what he told me. At 9 pm, every weekend and Wednesday, he comes here to do his business. 

“My parents prepare for me this porridge and tea,” he answered me as he poured porridge in a plastic cup for me. 

He charged me Nu 20 for it. He told me that he usually stays until 3 am in the morning and his earning ranges from Nu 300 to Nu 500 a night. It’s, definitely, unsafe for a young boy to work in such an environment, at odd hours. 

As you walk back home, you would hope that the Department of Trade, Thimphu Thromde and all other relevant agencies come up with a strategic plan for this group of hawkers and minor. You would wish that they be not booted out, like what had happened in the past, but consulted properly and provided adequate support to make them resourceful entrepreneurs.