Yesterday evening I sat, thoughtless, as I was looking out from my
window. Oh my God the day was not ok. It’s raining, thick and gray and made me
cry, “No, no, no! Common, this is spring. How come raining?” This cold weather
only made me want to cuddle in my bed, disgruntling. Burrow deep into my
pillows, curl under blankets.
But I kept staring out the window, quiet and contemplative. And I
drew my focus, eventually, closer to a peach plant next to the place I stay. I
saw the plant dancing against the raindrops, in bliss and plentitude. I ran
down, sat near the peach and watched it, strangely fascinated.
The earth beneath my feet loosened, the plant’s dark barks bearing
flowers, the root absorbing rainwater. Flowers and shrubs nearby are sprouting
with lush leaves and flowers. And you know this rain (which we, humans, been
cursing for making our day worse) is only doing its service duly to the nature,
to us. It’s only watering (or feeding) the plants around us. So that once again
the plants grow beautiful in lush green and greet us with fresh spring fragrance
and colours.
And like the flock of birds swirling around the peach plant, I
danced in a fury of excitement, welcoming the spring, warmth and love.
I always feel proud to talk about my father. My father is Lal
Bdr. Subba and is in late 60s. To tell you, my father is the sole person behind
the production of Chuzangang rice, thanks to the agriculture ministry that initiated
farm mechanization in my village since 2008. In fact, he is the only person who has started farm
mechanization and rice commercialization in Sarpang.
Every year, my father cultivates over 37 acres land of rice plantation
in Chuzangang. Annually, he produces from 300 to 500 muri (60 kgs in one muri)
of rice. All this harvest is reserved for the agriculture ministry, which later
processed by the rice mills and packaged as the Chuzangang Rice. The marketing
agent, then, supplies the packaged rice all over Bhutan.
Kanglung, intuitively, has become engraved
in my heart and mind. And to those who studied at Sherubtse College. I know it
makes you giddy with pride and delight, just to utter that you studied here.
Because you’ve tons of photos, memories, experiences, friends-all beautiful.
All this make you feel nostalgic, no?
I studied in Kanglung from 2005 to
2007. Each time I leaf through my photo album or meet my mates of Sherubtse, I
reminisce about Kanglung, of those golden days. In those days, Kanglung was a
strange world. Even mysterious, affluent. Away from the urbanity, the college stood
forlorn, secluded from the real world and it had continued to be metaphor for
fairy land. Obviously a rich and happy land.
A jumbo gate, in front of the college,
stood majestically and would gracefully greet newcomers and guests. The monstrous
dorms in the campus constituted its ancient glory. The huge, gothic windows
were an obvious testimonial for its oldness and persistence grace.
Its inhabitants were young,
innocent and tender, yet passionate and determined. The challenges and
sufferings of the real world were unheard and unknown here. They lived in a mere perception
that life is beautiful. Just beautiful! And they lived to make merry. Nothing
more. Above all, to be happy was their maxim. No menacing
covetousness and greed ever pervaded and distracted them from this beautiful
existence.
Girls of this land were all strong and beautiful. And
virtuous. Tall, slim, well-spoken. They maintained their hair long,
straightened, silky, well-perfumed. Boys were, mostly, decent and clean. Their
gho well-ironed and they wore it short, above their knee. Their shoes polished,
always shining. They kept their hair long-perhaps idolizing the rock stars. They’d
speak in accented English. And no wonder, in ramp-walk style, they walked.
Everything in Kanglung was timeless.
Its inhabitants never ran after time and the deadlines. Even the assignment
submission deadlines and presentation dates could be unarguably postponed. A
college boy would patiently wait for months (or even years) for his dream girl
to “accept” his proposal. And he’d wait for hours outside her degree hostel-out
in the cold, under monsoon rain and sun-just to take her out for date or dinner.
For, his girlfriend had to apply her mascara and compact and hairdo. And
timelessness here was best demonstrated by the college’s clock tower that remained
dead, all time.
The Sherubtseans were all country-song lovers. John Denver’s,
Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
And
Don Williams’,
My heart is out of
control
This ole love struck soul
Just lives for the moment you’re around
When I hold on to you
It is all I can do just to keep my feet on the ground
Desperately, Loving you desperately
These songs, you’d hear them singing
all time. From morning to midnight. From their washrooms, laundry to classrooms,
while in date and at the dining hall and auditorium stage.
Kanglung, in its aloofness, had its
own culture and traditions. Rich and ever-flourishing. Each department would
welcome their fresher with luxurious party-songs, dances and, yeah, drinks. And
the farewell party would be arranged for the outgoing students. The second and
first year students would arrange foods, drinks and gifts for the graduating
students and wish them good luck in their future.
It had blind date in the beginning of each
academic year. Notorious though. Each fresher girl would be fixed with the senior
boy and the fresher boy with senior girl. A serious, draconic notification on
the college notice board read,
No
fresher would be spared. Attendance will be taken and the absentees will be seriously
dealt, ragged.
Even the ugliest would be forced into blind
date. And this is even more interesting. The seniors always prayed the blind
date day would rain. They’d ready an umbrella each in advance. And of course
condoms too. When rain, their date would be more close, intimate and affectionate.
Two people under one umbrella. Hand-in-hand. Down towards the Kissing-Point or
uphill Khangma, they walked whispering eternal love notes. Golden rice fields
stretched luminously for acres and acres on all sides. Oh, how romantic!
If both desire for each other, they’d
fix another date. And when they pair up, they’d throw a lavish party, called
patch-up party. This is one custom, typical one, of Kanglung’s matrimonial
institution. And this blind date was no obscene, but a ritual of courting or arranged
marriage in Kanglung’s culture, terms.
Kanglung had their own terminologies,
which only the Sherubtseans could speak and understand. If they saw a beautiful
girl or good looking boy, they shouted, “Scope!” It meant she or he has room
for partner (unlike economical scope). ‘Hawa’ means worthless, ugly. For
instance, they’d say, “This year’s fresher girls are all hawa.” But “hawa” was
also meant to express disgust, hatred and insignificance. “Hawa date.” “Hawa
lecture”. “Hawa lunch.” “Hawa condom.”
Other frequently used words are ‘jigs’,
‘heavy’, ‘solid’ and ‘mercy’. Most of these words are to do with looks and physiques
of people. For a hot and gorgeous girl, they said, “Jigs bumo.” Or even “Heavy bumo”,
“Mercy girl”. Though a well-built man
was called “Heavy”, again “Heavy” and “Mercy” were used to express admiration
and satisfaction. They’d say, “Heavy
painting”, “Heavy asom juice,” or “He
speaks heavy” or “She is mercy hot” or “I kissed her mercy”.
The juniors held high respect for their
seniors. They addressed their seniors, “Acho” and “Asim”. And the seniors would
equally treat them with love, kindness and support. The relationship between
the students and lecturers was very sacred. The students revered them, looked
up to them as their own parents. The college’s mutual relationship with its
community was beyond everything. The Sherubtseans helped building houses for
the poor farmers and keeping their water streams clean. Also, they taught
English language to the monks of Kanglung Jangdopelri and the Jangdopelri
helped performing annual rimdro at the college.
Without interference from the
dzongkhag administration or from the capital, Sherubtse was entirely
independent and blissful. There was no crime or fraud in this land, so there
was never need of police force to discipline its inhabitants. And way before Bhutan
transformed into democracy, Sherubtse had been functioning as a democratic land.
The president, secretary, department secretaries, degree-hostel councilors and
the class representatives for the FINA (Forum for International and National
Awareness), a Union body, had been elected through the franchise system (voting)
for good governance in the college administration and management.
And today, after five years from my
college, I still sing those country songs and dance in reminiscences. I still
say, “Hawa” when my bosses anger me or traffic irritates me, “Heavy” when I have
good things. So, it’s about to lunchtime, have your lunch mercy!
So, dear friends (women), jump out from your busy schedule,
free yourself from the stressful life, have fun and do whatever your heart
says. Because today is your day!
