The Reading Mantra!

I never saw the person who named my daughter Tenzin Euden and I heard his name quite often from my spouse’s mouth until last night. I saw him teaching and giving speech to RTC students, why RTC? I saw my former Lopen TS Powdyel seated in the front row. That’s when my wife said, dear he is the person who named our daughter and he is, pardon me if I got his name wrong, Drupwang Sangye Nyingma Rimpoche. Thank you Rimpoche for naming her Tenzin Euden! I listened to all your talks on what BBS had already recorded. I was taken aback when Rimpoche mentioned that he learned to speak English all by himself and he completely forgot Dzongkha. He was taken to study in a Tibetan monastery at the age of three. 

Rimpoche’s profound talks on youth matters made me rethink what path I chose hereafter… His talks took me years back to the novel ‘Sense and Sensibility’. Rimpoche talked on degeneration of Dzongkha and it is indeed an irony that I also feel comfortable communicating in English. Dzongkha had been my weakness since my childhood. I can hardly remember reading Dzongkha literature besides the texts that were provided back then…

For this year, it’s the national reading year and this initiative is commendable on the MoE’s part. What I cannot understand is why only for a year? The readership among the urbanites and educated people has taken a back seat, due to the obvious technology. Technology must enhance reading but sadly it’s the other way around. 

I had this opportunity to meet writers and bloggers in Thimphu and I was particularly asked by one MP, Dasho SangayKhandu, why do you think is the trend that most parents have no reading habits, although highly qualified. I felt dumbstruck but my humble reply to him was, “Parents are bogged down with their own profession”. I may be wrong but this is what I had to say. I am teacher for those whom I don’t know and I teach English…

Google images

My stand on the reading ability and proficiency in any language is to do with the linguistic background one belongs to. You see I am a born Sharchop, I learned English in schools and Dzongkha as a national language. We belong to a multi-lingual society and language acquisition theory is based solely on nurture-nature idea, meaning what you acquire and what you learn! As an English teacher, I must say English is not at all an easy language. English is the medium of instruction all over the world and that’s why people find it comfortable. Going by the complexities in any language, English is difficult. A Bhutanese speaking in English has errors and I accept that because we learned English as a second language and second language learners have this difficulty all over the world. But at the same time, I was astonished to see and learn that most young people prefer reading English over Dzongkha books. Great!

The reading ability in a child is sparked not by intelligence by something called ‘modeling’. Psychology students must be aware of what modeling is. It is simply modeling reading behaviors at home. We Bhutanese are so used to saying I tried many a time but it failed. A child has to make connections on what he/she is read to and what connections his/her brain make while reading. As adults it is very easy to read children’s books to kids but kids will have difficulty understanding your reading. So reading requires patience for the umpteenth time until a child gets through what is being read. Gradually when a child is interested in listening to reading, then his/her curiosity will emerge into beginning reading. If this is done you have done your share in making a child read on his/her interest. 

As a teacher, my suggestion for parents is to read to your kid over and over again. Also to the system at large, please don’t make reading a national event only for a year, follow through year after year because my former Lopen Jose KC once remarked in a literature class, “If something is worth telling, it must be told twice”.

Good day folks!

One of Bhutan’s Microwaves: Punakha!

The ceiling fans moving all night wouldn’t cool the blanketing hot room air and wouldn’t deter the mosquitoes that sang all through the night. In a hot place when you are served penny-pinching meals, one doesn’t feel like eating despite the volcanic appetite and the nausea only heightens when water from the tap is warm. Getting into a car would be the last thing you would do on a hot summer day.  It’s like getting into a microwave.

I have been to Punakha on several occasions and perhaps this time my opinion of this historic place will be a little gawky considering the weather at this time of the year. Everything in Punakha is about beauty, simplicity and elegance like any other places in western Bhutan. The only worrying thing about Punakha at this time of the year is the scorching heat! I was a resident of P/Ling and Chukha for all these years and the heat didn’t bother me as it did in Punakha. I had never experienced such irritation in life.

Just recently I had this opportunity to witness the signing of the constitution of Bhutan’s first Children’s Parliament. A noble move perhaps and I do hope that this initiative brings out efficient leaders and citizens in future. We did this in the Kuenrey of the famous Punakha Dzong. This Dzong is still nothing short of an awe inspiring structure.

The signing ceremony began, one by one the student representatives from all over Bhutan put a sign on an elegant book and the coordinators were just there to witness this moment. Children had to walk in the heat for rehearsal from Punakha HSS till the Dzong and back. My student representative didn’t eat a decent meal while in Punakha. She had a worrisome time with the food and the lodge.

To add to the agony of sweating that I was into, we were asked to bring Tshog-Lham (Traditional Boot). A woven Gho with a TshogLham in an already packed room with temperature outside rocketing by the moment, I was thinking, hell has broken lose. I thought I was the only one experiencing this but to my relief, others beside me were undergoing the same. It was much worse for the teachers who had the habit of chewing our very own infamous ‘Doma’. The stinks from Doma further reassured the already rising nausea in me. The heat made me take short naps while the session was on and the coordinators beside me whom I have never seen, one in particular a chubby colorful lady was looking at me as she was on a mission to crucify me.

It was historical to witness the gathering but I felt equally irksome about the heat. I was roasted; toasted, baked, scorched, parched, seared…you name it. My tryst with Punakha was being cooked up in a microwave oven! 

The Sin of Life

I find this very interesting in our culture. And some things in our culture is worth writing it down. I am wondering if people and researchers have done any research and writings on the concept of “Tshe-Nga-Mey-Ley” (Sin of one’s previous life). Look around and just listen to people’s hearsay, this phrase is cited for all mishaps and wrong doings. 

Over meetings with my friends in the evenings, just last night we talked about a special child born to a known parent, the child suffers from cerebral palsy. Dechen, instantly tells its ‘Tshe-nga-mey-ley’. The females have all the reason to believe in ‘Tshe-nga-mey-ley’. I got thoroughly confused with this tshengamey ley thing in our culture.

I know a personality that I don’t like and I cannot do anything about it. The world around me knows of this person and everyone has nothing good to say about it. I know I cannot help but write it down. My ordeal is what my friends term it as “Tshe-nga-mey-ley”.

If something doesn’t go well or is frustratingly a failure then we have a tendency to blame it on the past life and actions. If a mishap happens supposedly, just a month ago I lost my spare tyre and my buddies tell me, “Khemey, ken dhoJoWong” (its ok, a calamity is averted). Things happen for reasons known and unknown. Does it mean ‘Tshengemey ley’ is to be blamed? I am not a devout person who is abreast with the customs and religion of our country and I just know I am a plain Buddhist.

Picture Courtesy: Google

I am a divorcee and tshengamey ley is definitely not the reason. I nearly got mauled by a bear in remote Zhemgang and it too wasn’t tshengamey ley. Due to some mechanical failures, a truck veered off a cliff killing dozens in the east, just recently in the news and my mom opines, “Ai tshenga ma ga ley giwala”. Not to forget the tragedy in Nepal, was this too a Tshengamey ley of the Nepalese people?How naïve?  How obvious?

My stand on this is not to go against the cultural aspect of tshengamey ley but my reasoning is limited to my knowledge. It just avoids the trouble. I mean if mishaps or a wrong doing occurs, tshengamey ley is cited, blamed or whatever but this avoids the troubles and it’s a phrase used to console self. Any one has any other interesting ideas on tshengamey ley, I would love to read it. Until the next update on my blog, let’s see what tshengamey ley has in store for me?

Good day folks.

All in a days’ work!

Yesterday, I took a day off from the daily humdrum of the holy office to spend time with my little Tenzin. We had an appointment arranged on this day for some tests at the Bio-chemistry laboratory at JDWNRH. And then to the school of astrology at Pangrizampa for my baby’s Kay-Tse (I don’t know how appropriate this might sound).

It was just for an hour or so that I had to wait. The agony of already waiting in lines for your turn to come is nerve racking. And holding my baby at the same time made me imagine, my arms would break apart any moment. After an agonizing wait, there was no one to take the sample. Another half an hour went by until a bear-like man in white coat appeared. He held my baby’s foot so tight that I could not resist. She wept on top of her voice and I nearly broke down. That’s when I intervened, “Can’t you be a little gentle with that?” He kept silent. Had he uttered something, I was determined to smack some of his teeth out. His silence pardoned me the trouble.

Next stop, Pangrizampa! We took some offerings and requested a teacher-monk for the Kay-Tse. He agreed and after a gruesome exchange on some fees, he accepted finally reiterating that we Bhutanese politely decline and accept everything in the end.

རང་གི་ཨ་ལོ་སྔུནི་དོན་ཧིང་ན།། རོགས་ཀྱི་ཨ་ལོ་སྔུནི་རྣཝ་ཚ།།

This maxim came as a great help to me and it’s like saying only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches. For me this realization came all in a day’s work.

Although, I was deeply emotional and passionate about my time with her, she just slept for the entire day sometimes smiling and crying in her sleep. All experiences sums up to all in a days’ work.

Happy reading folks!

My Little Tenzin

This thought came to me just last night-What am I doing? Move forward buddy and you are just as young! Your other half is being selfish! She wants her family and parents but not her daughters’ dad. So I decided to write this little poem for my little Tenzin who happens to be with her mother although I long to spend every second of my life with my little Tenzin, once again I wouldn’t have her exchanged for anything in this world. I love you Tenzin!

                                          Dear Tenzin,

I love you Tenzin

Like no other love on earth

From the day I first met you

Nothing can compare your worth

I will love you and protect you

With strong arms just in case

But will also hug you tenderly

With a fatherly embrace.

What more could any father want

Than a daughter so sweet and pure

There’s nothing in this world so rare

Of that I can be sure.

A dad’s love is so unique

It cannot be replaced

I will always treasure my times with you hereafter

And the memories embraced.

                                                                                                -Yours Dad

My time with her was brief and she was fast asleep in her mother’s arms. I could see my reflection in her sleepy face. I shed some tears not in front of people but silently in the comfort of my little car. Such hard and excruciating can life will sometimes be. I pledge to do everything in my capacity not to let her forget me. As of today my little Tenzin is 11 days old.

I love you Tenzin. 

Snow isn’t coming but the rains will

This year snow has failed to come. The annual white blanket that paints Thimphu is nowhere coming. And it is already April. I now think ‘Mr. Jack Frost’ needs to bless this mountain country. So I decided to write something down on Monsoon which I left unfinished in the fall last year.

Time to get those remedies on for what we see in the rainy season, as the monsoon brings everything possible to make humans like me stay home. This is the season of the wet. Umbrellas, flip-flops, perhaps a rectangular polythene might do the work just as well. Rains are a bounty for the farmers and for the rest of us it’s just a way of life. No complaints whatsoever for the rains. For travelers it’s a nightmare even to think of getting stranded on a road block. Such varied and difficult the monsoon can be!

I used to be a teacher in a very remote school once. Supposedly for being a very remote place, it had mule tracks for transportation, kerosene lamp for light and the traditional fire for cooking. This place is Degala in Zhemgang and it had all the attributes to make a typical Kheng village. One summer, I and other civil servants had to feed on ‘Kharang’ for a month because the mule tracks were washed away, porters weren’t willing to fetch our goods from the nearest road point. We ran low on provisions and I am sure every civil servant in a remote village undergoes this. Such is the power of monsoon.

Here in Thimphu I see the obvious umbrellas everywhere but these are fancy. Children who forgot their umbrellas would be drenched from head till toe. Drains clog and stink, cars splash water everywhere. In some parts of the city, car tires will be submerged as one drives. Thimphu in the outskirts looks clean. BBS will have more news and updates on road blocks and the most terrifying of all, the ‘Reotala’ stretch will again roar this summer. Careful to those residing before and after the stretch!

Monsoon brings a warm joy and one common thing it does is everyone stays indoors. It makes people do things at home unless something inevitable must come. The warmth and coziness of one’s home is such a beautiful thought. It gives families and closed ones to come together and chat over some meals or drinks. Why drinks? It has become customary even in towns to offer drinks to the guests.

So happy Monsoon-ing folks!

Does being rich mean you have to be cruel?

Just last week, I was watching little kids playing in their pre-school ground. I saw a plump-y 4 year old bullying everyone and the care givers were having a frustrating time managing the girl. I reside near a pre-school or rather an ECCD (Early Childhood Care and Development) centre. It was fun watching these kids. I saw a very patient mom who dropped her kid at the centre and waited until late in the afternoon, sometimes fiddling her cell phone and listening to some music in her little car. I have never seen a mother who didn’t move until her kid was out of the centre-such patience surprised me.

And finally when kids were sent home, parents flocked near the gate to escort their kids. Most parents drove cars and there were a few grannies too. These grannies preferred walking holding their kids especially while crossing roads. Parents mostly had imported cars and by their look and pride, I knew they belonged to the upper middle class or the wealthy.

Now here’s an incident that made me update this one in my blog. One by one, kids were handed over to their parents and grannies. A stooping granny holding her little granddaughter’s hands were walking by the side of the road. Behind them came a black SUV and the car was big for the road. The driver who I presume to be a parent of the child in his car yelled at the granny, “Wai Angay, atsi zoo metsup bay ya! Shuee Wai”. He was sun glassed and his look made me conclude if his child is safe, he doesn’t give a damn about kids on the roads. His black imported SUV was too big for the road. Actually he shouldn’t be driving on that side of the road. The highway was just above where he drove. If he has a mother at home would he say that? The granny said nothing in reply and just smiled holding her little girl. And the granny was not even crossing the road. I have many incidences to mention about the supposed wealthy being cruel. And there are lots of these minded people in Thimphu. Prove me wrong!

Does being rich mean you have to be cruel? A thing to ponder upon, as these people has lost their innate human values and ethics while thinking of money and materialism. And what about the granny…I drove them to their house and she offered me a sweet “Kadrinchey la”. That made my day up.

Thanks for reading my thought, does being rich mean you have to be cruel?

“If you have lost the respect for elders, then you will lose their blessing which in turn will make you experience dissatisfaction in everything you undertake”-Loosely translated from a Hindi saying.

Good day folks!

A deathly opinion in this ‘brief’ called Life

The feeling of being left alone by time and finally being dead is a ‘must-go’ end for everyone and we supposed humans don’t have the time to ponder on death. Live as if death wouldn't come onto us. This is what we mostly think when we are going about one’s life chores. Death will come to everyone and it will someday. This feeling rejuvenated just recently, when a colleague of mine lost one of his dear one. We, just as it was in the past, went to witness the funeral at the very crematorium here in Thimphu. This is the very first time I have ever been to a funeral.

The feeling of insecurity and the supposed gods/lords of death talks stirred a spine chilling effect on me as we walked towards the place where corpses are burned. There to my amazement, I saw nine corpses on fire and each big fire had people breaking down and a colleague Rinzin had watery eyes already. I felt uneasy and stepped back. We went to greet our friend and later sat down near the fire for which we had gathered.

The Crematorium (Thimphu) 

There while sitting Choney² (there were two of them) told me simultaneously death is the ultimate equalizer and everyone irrespective of any discrimination must go through the same ordeal. So simple and realistic but yet very profound! I have known this inconvenient truth that death is inevitable and this was the very first time I have come so close to the actual death rituals. They further reiterated, “We must make a visit to the crematorium very often, just to remind ourselves that we don’t have time to think bad and be cruel to others”. “The ones who weep and think about you will remember you only for months and sometimes years at end. Then, even the one’s own kith and kin will forget as time gradually makes it course” reiterated Rinzin. I listened to them with a deep sense of acceptance that whatever they just said was profoundly true.  This remark made me revisit Sogyal Rimpoche’s The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. I am currently re-reading it.

Two Chony(ies) talked to me about how temporal and short a human life is. I have had undergone unlimited brawls and quarrels, thought sinister(ly) about people known and unknown, felt proud when my adversaries  were hurt and doomed, and you can think about all the emotional evil that I have had about people… my gosh! Did I have time for all this?

Years back, I wrote something on silence and while writing it, the word ‘brief’ matched so well with what I was trying to pin down and I earned pretty good criticisms from my write up. Now, at this point of time when I suddenly embarked on writing something down on death, this word ‘brief’ makes me uneasy and thinking about the word ‘brief’ stirs fear in me.

So the idea underpinning this update is to let ourselves be reminded that, there is no time to be bad… bad! I feel we do not have the time even to think bad about humans let alone animals in this ‘brief’ called life. Just as a smile makes a day, thinking positively and talking politely to others would make moments cherish-able in this ‘brief’ called life. If I haven’t stirred anything in you, please do make a visit to the crematorium just as I did because this is my only deathly opinion in this ‘brief’ called life. So, dear folks don’t be bad and if you have been one, just think of my tryst at the crematorium and be reminded that we must all undergo this ‘Death’ ordeal.  

Once again folks don’t be bad and I know you won’t be!

Nostalgia of the life down memory lane!

The nostalgia of the place which grew me up is so instrumental in making me metamorphose from a timid bud into a confident bloom [1]is the college I attended eight years back. Back then it was nomenclature-d as the National Institute of Education and the villagers called it the TTC.

Whatever it may be, this year I was sent to this place on some official purposes which lasted for three enjoyable days. In some snaps of the time I sneaked my evening time to pay a nostalgic visit to this institute of learning.

Some changes were obvious as I left this place in a cold December evening of 2006. There were some unfinished structural constructions then and now they have come to full bloom. The campus and the structures now look majestic and I am sure people now find this sight nostalgic in all sense of the word.

If you have read my book, I have a mention of this institution as ‘My seat of learning’. I owe my deepest gratitude to this learning institution for what I am today. My formative years in this institution made an imprint which lasts to this day in me. Besides academics, I mostly spent time on reading and trying to make sense of me in the world of journalism. Most of the inspirational ‘Lopens’ that groomed me are now elsewhere and the prominent ones which I still can remember are Mr. Jose KC, Mr. TS Powdyel, Dr. Jagar Dorji, Mr. Dorji Wangchuk, Mr. Kesang Tshering, Mr. Karma Wangchuk, Mrs. Tshering Wangmo, Mrs. Dechen, Mrs. Karma Peday, Mr. Kinley Gyeltshen, Mr. Rinchen Dorji, Mr. Kinley Dorji. ‘Kadrinchey’ to all of you for my thanks would fall short because I am treading a path which you all showed me. Mr. TS Powdyel went on to become the first democratically elected education Minister. Lopen Kinley became a Dzongrab. Dr. Jagar, the NC member from Trongsa. Mr. Kinley now holds a PhD. We keep in touch even now. Kadrinchey still!

Picture courtesy: Google

The Chorten that we help construct is prettified now. If I am not mistaken it was named the Namgyal Chorten (not very sure) and the benches that I sat in the evenings mostly by the river side are still in use. I could see a few benches occupied by trainee couples. Ahh…..I too did this… back then.  I don’t know if water is a problem in the new hostels. Back then during weekends, we wrapped our towels with some laundry and went merrily near the river singing “A-labey”.

I also saw many trainee teachers walking the alleys, cubicles and stairways with pits of smiles and bunch of papers-I know they are assignments. I also met some of my students who were undergoing the training there. We shared some words on the life they are having now. I was told most of the seniors now live on their own outside the campus and freshmen are given the opportunity for hostels. The Gompa right above the cliff from the girl’s hostel still looks majestic. Back then we carried CGI sheets for its renovation. The road leading to the Rinpung School is now black topped. The Library is now the academic block. The CAPSD, now DCRD has been relocated to Shari, I guess! Some of the curriculum officers have become chiefs in other departments, so is the case with some of my lecturers. I didn’t see any of the cooks. The mess operator back then has put up a small shop in Paro town. I met him too.

The pretty girls who were the shop owners where we used to buy our groceries have become family-ed with kids. Just on a funny note I mentioned to one, “Yalama, wai jarim yay yasinu mey” with she replying with a huge laugh.

What a feeling of sadness when you have realized now that I have grown old by the years.  I will use a line from the chapter that I mentioned. My words of thanks would fall short if I were to thank this seat of learning but thank you still. I wish I could go back in time to relive the nostalgia of the life down memory lane.

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[1] Lines from Mr. Jose KC

A being up in the heavens!

I have seen hundreds of movies (love stories) and read love story books even more. I have been a bystander for all the epic love stories that mankind has ever produced in writing. Helen of Troy, the legend of Mumtaz Mahal, the myth of Cupid, Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet,  Love letters of John Keats-the Romanticist, our very own Gasa Lamai Singye, etc… are some prominent imprints in my mind.

I too lived through times of love and I also loved one if not many-genuinely. Pardon me for the line! I am also a matter that constitutes this massive earth. I too have stories of love, despair and regrets. This is one shrewd thing I thought of writing after contemplating silence for several days. Now that I am married I don’t intend to offend anyone with this update.

I am sure all folks must have gone through what I am trying to put this through. I was genuinely in love with a girl back then. I have a mention of her in my mind always and she was the inspiration of some of my scribbles and write ups. I cherished this bond with much awe. Due to some misunderstanding and due to my overemphasized ego of course, I made her like me which I am sure. Later, I was so lost in her that I forgot she had someone even before me. This thought stirred all sorts of anger and jealousy in me. It in fact stirred everything around me affecting me in multiplicity of other things that I am used to. Such is the law of attraction, some fatal of course.

May be she kept on smiling at me and this was enough to make my day. Having her around was the most valuable and cherished thing in my life. On a lazy day, her passionate thought would make me undertake even the most arduous of the chores. I knew this feeling only when I felt for her. I knew the sense of loss when she wasn’t around. I missed her with every ounce of my heart and knew what missing someone you care for really is. I learned what was to be polite when I was with her. Although, I had her around just for a brief moment, in those brief moments I was to completely undergo a metamorphosis. She was the raison d’être that ignited all positive thoughts and opinion about the world around me.

But I don’t know whether she liked me or not back then, but now she is no more. I am mentioning of my first genuine crush on someone who now has left this earth. She left for the heavenly abode leaving me devastated and the person whom she was in love with. May her soul rest in peace and in the heavens too, I wish her to inspire and be the subject of love just as she did on earth. I have no grandeur of monuments to immortalize you like the Taj Mahal or the wooden horse of the Greeks to win you back but I just have a simple prayer to say which I must say. This has been my prayer to you and will always be as long as life breathes in me.

Dear God,

I have a being up there,

She whispers me in your heavens and in your ears,

Keep her happy my humble earthly wish breathes,

Unwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark clothes,

Of might and light and the half light,

I would spread my clothes under your feet,

But I, being poor, have only my dreams:

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams…

-Thank you WB Yeats for these immortal lines (in italics)