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! 

Standing near, being close

This year’s January is a month of relatively happy times. For me, and my family members. More eloquently, it’s the month of family, of reunion, of joy and celebrations. By the way, we are over 40. My father married two wives, my mothers. Altogether, we are 11 siblings. Most already got married and have kids, and some still are single. All of us are spread in different places - working, married off and studying.

So when you’ve a giant family like mine, it’s always very difficult for all of you to get together. However, this winter, all of us met in our village, after many many years. It’s the family reunion, to put it precisely.   

I don’t know about you, but spending time with my family members and beloved ones close by is simply transformative and wonderful. It’s truly a blessing.

In our family get-together, in the month of last January, we spent our time together creating loads of stories and memories that I’m sure we will cherish and laugh for decades.

We made memories in small, loving bites - one memory at a time. That we went out for outdoor picnic, that we played together, that we helped each other in the fields, that we attended to family rituals, that we drank and danced hysterically, that we shared our laughter limitlessly.

And when something good happened, no matter how small, we celebrated it. This is how we built a legacy - a legacy of my family and village that we were born into and what we can preserve and pass it down. 

Also, we nudged on each other, argued at times and bothered sometimes. But it’s ok because it’s part of being close and caring for each other. In fact, we are part of each other’s lives and the protectors. We’re always there (in our prayers too) if some of us are about to slip.

We all know that this world is very fragile. So much unexpected things can happen in our life, anytime. No one can apprehend it. Ever. When my own beloved ones are close by, standing near, I feel safe and happy. More importantly, we are sacrificing our time for our parents and family members that are so very important in our life.      

My village, my responsibility

I’m very proud to post this story on my blog. The story of joy that I gained from giving it back to my village. In a small measure though. And here, my heart melts with an overwhelming joy and happiness - perhaps the purest of joy that I had ever felt.

The 4-day long Children Program that I initiated and organized with the support from my niece Lisa and nephew Salman and the READ Bhutan and Chuzagang Agricultural Farmers Co-operative ended successfully this weekend. This program is the first contribution that I initiated for my village, my community.

My village, Chuzagang (in Gelephu), is still considered as a remote village. Over 487 households in the village, people live a hard peasantry life. Without motorable road, we still carry loads on our backs and walk two hours to reach Gelephu town.

Many years ago, I had soared out away from this village, from the hard life. I got lucky. Because I got education. Good in studies, I had passed each class (standard) in the schools and college and got a civil service job.

But other village children are not so lucky like me. These children are always burdened with working excessively in the fields. The parents (due to lack of awareness) prefer their children helping them back in the farms than sending them to the schools. Due to this, the children do not get adequate time and guidance in their studies. So every year, many children drop out of the schools. Also, deprived of educational programs in Chuzagang, the children are generally very shy with low self-esteem and confidence.

However, I’m a proud man today. A degree certificate in my name, I’ve a dignified government job. I don’t till land. Neither do I’ve to sweat in the summer heat, nor do I get to drench in the monsoon rain. Literally speaking, I live a sophisticated and happy life.            

But what “happy life” or “pride” should I say that is in me when my own fellow-villagers still struggle back in the village? Should one consider the “pride” comes to you when you become more successful than others?

My village and my fellow-villagers need me now – my love, my knowledge, my support and my expertise. Even in a small way. They don’t ask me, but I can sense it, instinctively. And I always believe that our small contributions means a lot for them like each brick that makes a house.

I’m never a proud man or a true son of this village until I do something for my village and my fellow-villagers. Truthfully speaking, this village has given me so much. This is the place where I was born and grew up and got my early education. And it’s our natural responsibility that we (educated and “prosperous” people) return and give back to our own community to make it better, prosperous community.      

So this 4-day long program for 46 children of my village, Chuzagang, is intended to empower them with necessary information and skills so that they can realize the importance of education. We have also involved the gewog leaders, parents and officials from different agencies in the program to create awareness on positive development of the village children.        

I know that I cannot do great things. I cannot donate money in millions; I cannot impact our country’s policies. But I can initiate small projects, like this one, for my community. One day, these 46 children, when they grow up educated and prosperous, can also give back to their community. I believe that many small contributions can make a great difference.  

Sangay Tshering, the Gup of Chuzagang Gewog, graced the closing of the program. The program was conducted from January 21-24, 2014 at Read Bhutan Community Library and Resource Centre in Chuzagang.

Giving back

Three months back, I actually started planning to organize this children program in my village,  Chuzargang, Gelephu. In Thimphu, then, I talked to the officials of the READ Bhutan and Chuzargang Agricultural Farmers Cooperative about the program. They permitted me to organize the program and assured me all kinds of supports. 

Then immediately I looked for funding support from a few businessmen in Thimphu. They, originally from Chuzargang, have contributed stationery and other materials. 

I have two committed young volunteers. My niece Lisa and nephew Salman. So we just began the 4-day long Children Program from January 21, 2013 at READ Bhutan Centre in Chuzargang in collaboration with the staff of READ Bhutan and Chuzagang Agricultural Farmers Cooperative. We expected about 20 participants, but was quite surprised when more than 45 children turned up for the program. 

The program provides them different exciting and fun activities. Reading, painting, story telling, poem recitation, movie screenings, and competition. 

I initiated this program in Chuzargang as I found that rural children are deprived of educational programs during their vacation. Because of this they have low self-esteem and they lack confidence. This program aims to provide them skills, knowledge and recreational facilities. 

Moreover, I grew up in this village. And this village has given me so much - education, wisdom, values, safety and more importantly, the belongingness. By organizing this program for the children of Chuzargang, I am giving just a small thing back to my village, my community.

After this program, I hope that these children, when they grow up, can also contribute back to the village. This is our village and it's our natural responsibility to enhance the positive development of our village children and the entire village.

With two young volunteers. Everyday we have to walk two hours to reach the Center to  conduct the program

Note: Sorry for the errors in the post. I am using my phone to type and post here.

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!!!