Milk man of Samtse not so creamy



Evening dose of waiting in a queue



This is not so unusual scenario for residents of Samtse when they go to fetch milk. ‘…And it has been same for a decade now’, lamented a worried resident. The residents wait for the milk man in open space beside the Samtse Dzong under the southern scorching heat. The only milk Vander in the town brings in his diary milk twice a day. Around 4:00 pm in the evening and as early as 5:00 am in the morning.

My sisters, brother in law and I were visiting my parents who have lately been transferred here which made us fetch milk for them a day or two.

Day before yesterday evening we had gone to fetch the milk. We didn’t wait for long when the milk Vander arrived in silver colored Maruti Van. He had three big Milk tanks in his car and anxiously waiting costumers. As the Van stopped on the roadside the residents hurried to form a queue rushing and pushing each other to stand in the front.

Democratic yet undemocratic mannerism...

 

The Milk Man is in his mid forties. He has worn a white apron, a pair of old slippers and very cheap half-pant which had its laces dangling in-front. His face was covered with sweats and he had worn a surgical mask which was supposed to cover his mouth but it was covering his chin instead. He was chewing Doma (betel nut) furiously and threatening the residents of not selling his diary milk to those who are not in the queue. Incredibly, all of them slowly adjusted into the queue. What else is expected when the seller is dominating the scene and when the helpless costumers don’t have a choice?

Our not so creamy Milk Man....

He started filling one bottle at a time and carefully counting the money twice. Few more bottles were fill in-queue when a couple of his close acquaintance costumers sneaked in from behind and he started filling their bottles. How democratic is that? I seriously believe that democracy is not all freedom but it is also equally means responsibility. Those sneakers really needed a serious education on democracy!

 

Back to our not so creamy milk man, he seems OK with it and when one of the fellow costumers complains about it he bluntly asked others to be in the queue. How wicked? He was handling the milk with his bare hands; the funnel went trembling on the floor and into the tanks and the milk man kept becoming more enraged as the queue shortened.

This morning my mother and I went to fetch the milk. The day, time and the place had changed but not his attitude, manner of handling his diary product and his other-wise valuable costumers. It was 5:00 am and we were standing in the queue in the main Taxi Parking.



Morning scene



We didn’t face any pushing and pulling as the number of costumers was less in the morning. But our infamous milk man with his infamous demeanors filled my bottle with approximately an ounce less than my mother’s. I asked him to see the difference in the level as we had the same sized bottles. He got angry and poured a jug of milk to fill my bottle and requested me not to come again to buy milk from him if I think it’s not working. Is it a Funny incident, insensible or an intolerable act? You decide. I was embarrassed but, I firmly thanked him.

 

Though he brings one of the most valuable commodities for the residents of Samtse Town but I didn’t feel to show my appreciation for this man nor did I find anybody interested too. For him, it seemed, only money counts. He was too busy doing business that he is un-aware of the invaluable service he has been rendering to the community here. He only knows how to drive his milk Van and take the money from his costumers but he seems certainly not aware that the money that helps him send his children to school or bring food on the table for his family comes out of the pockets of milk costumers like us. I don’t demand respect or humbleness from him but we deserve fairness and politeness on his part for the virtue of us being his costumer. He knows all the tricks under the sun how to betray the costumers but he seems not bothered or worried of the silent curses from his dormant costumers. God Bless Him.

My poetic journey...with the sleeping beauty.

It was 1:15 pm in the afternoon on 4th of july when I stepped in the bus heading towards Phuntsholing. 15 more minutes were left for the bus to move. I tacked in my small knack shake below my seat, poked the ear phones into my ears and made myself comfortable. But, a group of girls chatting outside the bus, near the door, made me not to play the songs on my playlist. I listened to their talk, no, I looked at them spellbound. 

Image:google

 

Their conversation revolved around random topics; Party night, making fun of friends and Gedu College. The conversation was flavored with sweet smiles and hearty laughs. One among them amazed me, the other tickled my heart and the rest of them garnished the world around me that afternoon.

The former was the most talkative, quite hefty and she was licking ice-cream in a funny way. How? When she licked the cream her eyes bulged out like a frog! The latter one simply impressed me. She was quiet, kept her face often covered with her soft tender fingers and silky soft hair that dangled along the side. Not much make up but she had applied thin mascara on her curved eyelashes and light red lip-stick on her smooth lips which appeared brightly on her milky white face.

A fellow passenger, a man in his late 30s who was standing behind these sweet distracters, was biting his lips and the look on his watery eyes sensed that he was taking great pleasure looking at this particular girl. I felt like piercing his eyes and mow his lips…because she was so damn beautiful and nobody would like to share anything of such beauty.

The ‘hefty ice-cream licking sweet distracter’ and the ‘lips biting flirting eyed man’ did robe me of few extra minutes out of my poetic journey.

The bus engine roared and there she jumped in. She came…came…and she kept walking towards me…tip toeing, tacking her hair behind her ears and swinging her tender hands and set down next to me gracefully.

I re-adjusted my sitting posture and took a long deep breath just to minimize the flow of hormones that build nervousness. She didn’t say a word. She immediately started arranging her stuffs, often graciously throwing back her soft silky hair with both of her hands or pinning those dancing hair behind her ears with her fingers.

Her hair bushing my face gently, sensuous perfume oozing from her body and those tickling touches by her curvaceous body here and there made my world go blind. I kept squeezing and scrunched myself to make that small seat more spacious for my lady of the day because now I have started falling for her.

I haven’t played the songs on my playlist yet…and now it’s not needed too though I still have the ear-phones pinned in my ears. Why? Because the romantic piece of lyric was sitting next to me and the tune of love was whispering in my heart. It was a happy romantic song that my soul penned down and keeping the ear-phones did serve me a purpose. How?

I suddenly started to stamp my feet, snap my fingers and nod my head gently and glanced at her face occasionally so as not to lead her assume that I am always looking at her. Dude, I pretended listening to music and kept on glancing at her.

Research proves that unlike men, women have 180 degree vision which helps them see what happens in both sides without turning their heads. For me I had to turn my head to see, so…I guess she caught me red handed but I didn’t stop stamping, snapping and occasionally appreciating the beauty with my almost decent eyes.

My almost decent eyes kept circling up – down and down – up with all beautiful thoughts on all those beautiful curves. Sometimes I missed stamping my feet or snapping fingers or nodding my head but I never missed gazing at her.

On that day I realized one more reason on how lucky I am to live in the mountainous country called Bhutan. The sharp and long U turns along the highway proved so electrifying. I mean ‘electrifying’ literarily! The turns made my beautiful fellow traveler reluctantly lean towards me and the half of my body touching her got electrified, charged and what not…I kept wishing for …..Nothing but TURNS….

After a couple of minutes she fell asleep. Slowly she rested her head on my shoulder and I sat there completely motionless. Now I could only see her face and no more… half of her silky soft hair was hanging from my torso, I started feeling the heat of her body and right there I could also hear her heart beating. And each beating of her heart just made me sign differently. OH MY GOODNESS!!

It was raining outside and the window pane was wide open too. I slowly took out my left hand from behind, which had supported both of our body weight ever since, and started playing with the rain drops. I felt so romantic and happy.

I closed the window and turn my head towards her. Slowly I raised my eyes and looked at her milky white face. Had you listen to a musical piece right now the symphony would begin with a low note(when I raise my eyes) and end with a high note (when my eyes meet her lips or eyes and slowly the music subsides when I drop my eyes again).

As I raised my eyes and looked at her face, I watched in slow motion as if I am looking for all the minute details. Her scar less skin, plump cheeks, curvy and dark eyelashes, cut- perfect eye brows, her innocent nose and chin, her sexy red lips, her silky soft hair on my torso and her tender hands next to my lap.

I know, like mine, your heart might not have asked for more but on that fine moment my heart was stroke with a poetic expression. The situation demanded it and the beauty deserved it too. What’s that? “Girls are like cursive handwriting, with elegant curves and beautiful strokes; nice to look at yet equally difficult to understand”.

The destination was approaching and my poor heart only wished that the bus I was travelling keeps on going…until she is asleep and leaning on my shoulder….until she wakes up……and until she opens her eyes only to find me…..a complete stranger.