In its own way, the nature’s way

It was already late evening. And that I was still in my office. But hey, I’m not an “over-sincere” civil servant. In fact, I was waiting and just hoping that the rain would stop so that I could walk home. But it didn’t.

So I pulled out my umbrella and marched into the downpour, toward my home, clutching my bag to my chest. The moment I started walking, the rain poured harder. Even the air became damper, chillier. To put it simply, the March rain is pretty uncomfortable. Because it retains the cold, that of the winter, unusual cold, isn’t it?    

It was almost instantly dark, starkly though. Actually Thimphu doesn’t become so dark this early in the spring. But that evening, it was. Maybe – just maybe – it could be because of the heavy downpour, or the dark clouds that hung so low and held the entire valley in its bosom. To me, it all appeared like the heaven was kissing the first spring blossom of the year.

The road that I walked was virtually empty. All shops closed and the people returned to their homes. And as I walked, I could feel the fresh aroma of the spring in the air, its fragrance all exuded, fluxed with the rain. I became so intoxicated. I felt as if I were in the company of a beautiful woman, walking together. Honestly speaking.   

The endless droplets of the rain splattered against my umbrella and against the road. Some drops big, others tiny. And they produced a rhythmic beating sound with different uneven beats. I stopped walking, abruptly; however, not to listen to the rain sound.

I started watching the rain tapping on the pink peach blooms and green leaves that was perfectly illuminated by the streetlamps. They met so gently, almost playfully. Ah, it looked so passionate, so sensual, and so surreal. Instantaneously, I was hit by a wave of something – a few questions though.

Is this how nature mates?

Does nature really make love?

Sorry readers, I’ve no idea what really aroused me to think about it, but there I was asking these questions. As I continued walking, the sound of the rain enfolded me and the darkness too. But deep inside me, it’s these questions that enfolded me overpoweringly.

As I write this post, right now, these questions still buzz beautifully in my head, my heart. I was and still am very much sure that I can’t get the answer, anyway; not even in my writing. But now I can, at least, console myself that all I could see was the mystery of wild, the wonder of nature. Perhaps heaven can make love with nature, in its own way, the nature’s way.

Written out in the spring

Last weekend, I borrowed a book, “Further Chronicles of Avonlea”, from my friend. The book, a collection of short stories by L. M. Montgomery, includes a number of stories relating to the inhabitants of the fictional Canadian village of Avonlea located on Prince Edward Island. One of the stories really touched me, coz it relates to the spring, my favorite season,

“It was in the spring that Josephine and I had first loved each other, or, at least, had first come into the full knowledge that we loved. I think that we must have loved each other all our lives, and that each succeeding spring was a word in the revelation of that love, not to be understood until, in the fullness of time, the whole sentence was written out in that most beautiful of all beautiful springs.”

Dear readers, walk around, open your eyes, and be awed by the timely coming of this year’s spring. Share love, share happiness. I hope you would have a wonderful springtime with your beloved ones!

Special little moments

It was lunchtime. Yesterday. As usual, I walked out of my office with some of colleagues to buy lunch at my office cafeteria. By the way, I don’t carry the packed lunch to office. It’s pretty sad - I know it very well - both for my health and saving.    

So then, I went straight to the counter and put my order. It’s simple one - roti with emadatshi. Tea too, because it’s still cold here in Thimphu, even at noon. After that I pushed myself towards right.

On the wall behind the counter, as always, I spotted a fresh quote. Every day, my office cafeteria puts up a new inspiring quote on the wall. It’s quite thoughtful of them, though. It could be, perhaps, this opportunity that I get to read new quote every noon that I don’t bring my lunch to office, he-he. 

And the quote is,      

Happiness comes from special little moments.

However, this particular quote touched me in a strange new way. It penetrated me deeply. I read the words, reread them. And I nodded, agreeing to what it has to say, so loyally.

Happiness is not tangible, we know that. But after reading the quote, I swear I could touch it. And here, as I type this post, I’m all smiling, still feeling that happiness.

Yes, happiness really comes from special little moments. Like this, to me, even from reading a simple quote, even from spending small time with my colleagues over the lunch. And you can never guess how happy I’m putting down small little moments of my life here on my blog.

A happy weekend, dear readers!

One of the best youth-related films ever

“Chuut Wai” is the film. Both written and directed by Phuntsok Rabten. Quite remarkably, at the 13^th National Film Awards, the 150-minute long film won several awards. 

As I work with a youth agency in Bhutan, I felt very happy to know about the award and more so that I watched the film. Today when our country is facing with new social challenges, especially youth problems, “Chuut Wai” has brilliantly illuminated all the core issues of youth concerns. And even through films, “Chuut Wai” lauds loudly that we can help address youth problems.   

By the way, the film is thoroughly entertaining with very original screenplay and music. To be precise, it’s a real cinematic treat for you - this I don’t hesitate to say. It can make you laugh, fight with your own emotions, and cry ultimately.         

Kuenzang received award for Best Newcomer (Female)

Last month, I met the film director and I was quite happy to learn many more things about the film from him. He told me that “Chuut Wai” is a film adapted from real life characters from our contemporary times.

‘Chuut Wai’ revolves around Dingay, a disillusioned young man, who breaks down into depression, drugs and violence after his uneducated mother commits suicide when her husband divorced her. This is a real life story of Jigme Yosel Jigme, a recovering addict; and quite interestingly, he played his own role in the film as Dingay.

As the film unfolds, all along you also walk with Dingay. You are there in his story, in one form or another. Like him, you start to loathe his father, and howl in anguish and injustice; and cling to the past all related to the deceased mother. You become angry with everybody, everything around you. As Dingay gets into depression and seeks solace in his horrid past and drugs, you are also filled with a lonely, dark, and helpless feeling.

However, Dingay’s life undergoes a transformative journey when Jigme, a visually impaired young man, comes into his life. Even the role of Jigme is the real life story of Jigme Namgyal and he played his own role in the film.

As the film runs through scene after scene, it begins to take on a clear form and you can hear the film’s conscience, the voice. Too loudly. Too clearly. At the end, the film feels like a religious ritual that can heal your wounded spirits, your errors corrected.

This film is full of comedy; however, the humours are real, not coarse or forced. You laugh because it happens to you everyday, anyhow. Through comic scenes, we are enticed to reflect your own perceptions, feelings and intentions, and rethink some of our own prejudices, ignorance and stupidity. At the end, you are laughing at yourself only.  

At one moment, Phuntsok Rabten explained me that this film of his takes on the holistic approach to today’s social problems. I love the resonant power of his message in the film - all relevant, real and powerful. He has woven all our traditional values and wisdoms in the film so beautifully. And these are something invisible and beyond our understanding, yet we can feel them with right attitude and belief. The classroom education is not enough to fully educate our youth, and solve social problems.   

The film also has, for you, unlikely romance and songs but of remarkable proportions. And it takes you to unexpected twists and astonishing turns, all the way to a climatic finale. There’s good news for you, that the film will be re-screened in Thimphu. 

Photo courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/ChuutWai

Waiting for Dasho

I was a small young man with a small life. Just 19. Inexperienced, and naïve. That was many many years back. My parents were farmers (still they are) – my father worked in the fields, and mothers cooked. My village, Chuzagang, a very remote village, was a full two-hour walk from Gelephu Town. I suppose I could begin from here, an incident that had happened to me 11 years ago.

So every morning, my parents would ready my journey. They prepared breakfast and pushed Nu 10 note in my hand. Whereas, I combed my hair, dressed in fresh gho, fed on breakfast and then set out early. To Gelephu. The Dasho Dungpa’s office. To get the Dasho’s signature on a form for the identity card of my sister.   

And I had to run across several ungainly terraces of rice fields, avoid abuse from village youth, and escape dogs’ chase. Worst of all, I had to walk the infamous river, Maokhola, all alone.

At 9 in the morning, I’d reach the Dasho Dungpa’s office in Gelephu, all exhausted, drenched in sweats. The form has been reviewed by the admin assistant already. And outside the Dasho’s chamber, I waited for him to arrive and get his signature on my form.

“Dasho is in a very important meeting. He cannot come today, come tomorrow,” announced the office assistant to us. There were four of us. I made my way back home.       

   

The next day, again, we waited for the Dasho outside his chamber. At times, we walked in the office and asked the office staff about the Dasho. The staff who dressed rich and spoke only in English never answered us properly. They got angry, instead, disconcerted at us.

Dasho didn’t come the next day, either, nor the day after that. And soon a week went by. By then, we were over 15, waiting for the Dasho’s signature. There was nothing for us to do until the sun goes down. So we would walk down the office lane, bask in the sun, listen to each others’ stories, buy lunch in canteen, and take nap and return to waiting.

One afternoon, Dasho came to his office, donning himself in a colourful kabney. Our hope got lifted up and we ran into his chamber, in line, our forms in our hands. But he just walked out. For the record, he didn’t even look at us. Then, he drove off in a big Toyota car. We heard from others that he was going to attend his daughter’s birthday.

After a week, my parents stopped giving me pocket money – perhaps they didn’t have it. All day, I would yawn, scratch my head, hunger intruded. And as the sun set, I would run back and reach home only when the dinner was cooking. This created so much of stress even for my family. Fights broke out between my parents. 

However, next morning I would walk to the office, in a furious hope that this time, perhaps this time, the Dasho may come.

Let me tell you something about ‘waiting’. It’s so sickening, truthfully speaking. The waiting makes you furious, anxious and agitated. After sometime, it becomes a pain. It pains even if you sit, walk, talk or eat. Later, you boil, burn out – all inside. The last stage - hopelessness and apathy engulfs you. Then, you become a mechanized monster.

So I too became a monster, then, a hater. You never know, after that incident, how much I used to detest the government officials, bureaucratic system and above all, Dashos. After 10 days of painful waiting, and of course the longest 10 days of my life, I got the form signed by the Dasho.

About a decade later, I’ve become a civil servant too. When I think back on this particular incident, I often feel myself with a surge of affection and pity. But today this truly helped me understand my duties and responsibilities as a public servant. Our duty is not limited to paper works, tours, meetings and workshops, and honing skills in public speaking and making PowerPoint presentation, but way beyond that - to serve people.

Different people enter our office seeking directions and support, and helps and favors. I know that it takes your few minutes to guide or help them, but it can save their weeklong time, traveling and money.

And way advance, I wish you all a very wonderful Losar! 

Bhutan rises in “The Land of the Rising Sun”

Which is one country that you wish to visit in your life? And why?

I still remember writing an essay on the topic above when I was in my High School. It was 2000. My answer and my wish that I wrote in my essay was Japan. And I had one particular reason to visit this splendid country, also known to us as “The Land of the Rising Sun”, to see and understand its economic miracle.  

So after 13 years, this boyhood wish of mine has been eventually fulfilled. I got an opportunity to visit Japan in 2013 and there I traveled and stayed in several cities and prefectures.

I found everything in Japan incredibly grand and advanced. With over 127 million of population, it is home to the world’s largest and technologically advanced producers of motor vehicles, electronics, machine tools, ships and processed foods. 

This country takes huge pride in acclaiming itself as the world leader in fundamental scientific research. Moreover, it is the world's third largest donor of official development assistance, of which Bhutan too is the beneficiary.

Everything in the country is perfectly organized and clean - from the streets to the planning and policymaking. The motor vehicles don’t honk, and people don’t spit on the floors and walls. They respect your time, the elderly, and seniority.

But what surprised me the most was to know how hugely popular “King Jigme” and Bhutan in Japan. You just can’t believe me. In fact, it’s the Japanese love for my King and Bhutan that got me writing this post. And I’m very proud to write and post it on 34^th birth anniversary of our King.

One afternoon, I visited the Asakusa Kannon Temple in Tokyo with other Bhutanese fellows. I was wearing my gho and a badge (the picture of my King and Queen) attached on the gho. After sometime, at the temple, I knew that all people were staring at me and my Bhutanese fellows.

I was surprised, felt awkward too. For it’s the first time in my life that I was gaining so much of attention, that’s also in a foreign soil.  Many just murmured amongst themselves, others kept staring at me. And some followed and approached me.  

“You Bhuutaan…aah…happiness?” they inquired me. I nodded, nervously. And their face, instantaneously, glowed in all bright smiles.

After that they spotted the badge on my gho. They pointed at it and exclaimed, “Aah, King Jigme!” They recognized my King in the badge. There was so much joy in their voice, in their reaction.

Then, they called out their friends to have a look at the badge and to talk to me. As they looked at my badge, they jumped in sheer excitement and ecstasy, some even clapping their hands. And they kept uttering repeatedly, “King Jigme”.

In another occasion, we visited the Kasai Water Reclaimation Centre. There, I came across Mr. Abiko who followed me the entire day and he talked in incredible details about Bhutan which simply astounded me. 

With Mr. Abiko

“I save money to go to Bhutan. Happiness country. And to meet King Jigme and Queen,” he told me in one moment, his eyes teary, and added, “It’s my last wish.”  It touched me so much that even I wanted to cry. 

Wherever you travel to Japan, any Bhutanese would receive different treatment. Even in the busyness of life, they come forward to talk to you. You are priority, you are respected. And you would walk your head held high.

In 2011, our King and Queen visited Japan. This is the time when our King and Queen touched their lives - the people of the world’s most developed country.  This is something unbelievable. Their love and respect for our King and Queen is so huge that I can’t bring myself to put it into words. Moreover, it’s far beyond my understanding. But to know this, to feel this in Japan, my heart swelled with pride and I was moved to tears.

So on this joyous occasion, on 34^th birth anniversary of my King, I pay all my reverence and love for what His Majesty had done for us - your citizens and country. I wish His Majesty a long life and keep inspiring people all around the world to become a good human being.  

Picture courtesy: 3rd and 5th pictures downloaded from facebook.com/Jetsun Pema (Queen of Bhutan) 

The strength of young men

I came to office, this afternoon, to complete my pending work. Once I started working in the office, I felt how cold Thimphu has been of late. No clothes and room heaters were keeping us warm. It’s bone chilling and exhausting.

The entire Thimphu valley has been engulfed in dark clouds, and the cold it fetched to us was very harsh and uncomfortable, the kind that you really don’t like. And this cold gets into your bones, straightaway, and makes your whole body ache severely.

And here, in my office, instead of working, I stood up praying the rain or snow to fall outright and wash away all this clouds and cold. This is the time when I started hearing, opposite my office, children screaming and shouting, “Punakha gi Nya-goe! Nya-goe! Nya-goe!”

 

I craned out my head from the window, and watched what was happening outside. Out in the ground, a group of 15 children was cheering up for their friend who was pulling a pair of motor tyres. Yes, this is exact replication of Nya-goe Dendhur, the competition for the strongest man that BBSC organizes.  

It took a little moment to think about going outside to watch this competition. There were nine young contenders for the competition. Each contender has been named as Punakha gi Nya-goe, Mongar gi Nya-goe… according to their dzongkhags.

The contenders 

The competition has four different rounds (first round, quarter, semi and the final). In each round, the contenders have to go through four different stages of weightlifting and pulling the tyres. I was surprised to see this competition so well organized.      

I was even more amazed to see that all the contenders were taking the competition very seriously. They fought with great passion, that for a moment, I wondered they can even beat me like the way they beat the cold weather.

So I announced them I’m going to provide prize for the winner, Nya-goe. After that, they took the competition way more seriously. It’s wonderful to see them fighting for the competition, created by themselves, and delighting in it. They cheered up for each other; meanwhile, they have gathered a huge crowd of spectators.

Nyagoe Jr. with the prize

Finally, we saw the winner of the competition, Druk Gi Nya-goe. He completed his final task in 33 seconds. As promised, I gave the winner a small prize. I urged them to keep practising the Nya-goe Dendhur. We never know, one day in the future, after 15 to 20 years, these kids would be representing their respective dzongkhags in the real Nya-goe Dendhur.   

As I returned office to continue my work, the sky slowly cleared the dark clouds. After almost a week, I saw a glimpse of the sun, oh god, I feel good. 

Dear readers, stay warm and happy weekend! 

Let’s read, and change the way we live

As all things do, the cold winter here in Thimphu is almost instantly over. The snow fallen, the winter vacation all done. And it simply excites me to embrace, back again, the warm Thimphu, the one that’s generously pleasant and beautiful.    

This means that I can go out on walk frequently, attend social activities and shoot more pictures. And quite hopefully, I can write my blog more vigorously and get treat to read wonderful stories from you too.

So on this pleasant day, let me share this particular story of my life with you; for I believe that you can relate to me, my story. When my parents first sent me to the school, they had in their minds that his son would learn to read and write and become an important person in his life.

They wanted that his son was not going to grow up illiterate like them. So I attended schools and learned how to read and write. It opened my eyes; I’ve become a literate person. 

To them, my parents, to make me literate mean that other people won’t be able to cheat me. Because that I would be able to read, write, and do maths calculation. Read the notice and boards when I have to travel. Read and write application and letters. Above all, I would get to work in the government office.   

That’s all.

Last month, back in my village, I was reading a book outside at the courtyard of my house. A fellow-villager who passed by looked at me in surprise. It’s not because that I was there, but I was reading the book.

“At this age…when you’ve already finished studying…and doing job now, eh!” he talked to me, confused, and asked, “Why you read book?”      

I wanted to answer him right away, and tell him so many things. But I just smiled at him, and continued reading.

The truth is that in the Bhutanese way of life, generally, reading ends once you complete your studies. And writing is limited to writing letters, application and other necessary documents. Perhaps this mentality in us that the reading habit amongst is very low, and we keep passing it on to next generation.

So our generation really needs to break this cycle. That education is not limited to school and college, but it walks with you until your last breath. That from this pleasant spring season, let’s buy books and start reading so that our children follow us.

And a very Happy Valentine’s Day!