The Last chronicle of “Today’s Phuntsholing Town: A long romantic affair on the line

When dust begins to settle down in evening on the pavements, streets and roads of phuntsholing, small groups of young minds, school boys and girls, come out of their houses in the latest outfits available in the market.

PIC:Lonelyplanet.com

A couple of week earlier a fellow blogger Mr. Passang Tshering(maestro among Bhutanese Bloggers)  blogged a post regarding nuisance created by a group of youngsters;

There wasn't a day I didn't see groups of youth swaying by road under the influence of some intoxicants. And today some of then crossed their limits on to my car.. My poor already-injured car was peacefully parked alongside several others when a group of boys practiced their boxing skills on our side mirrors.
My wife and another car owner shouted from their windows only to get back all sorts of slang. I was in the class when my wife called me up, she informed me that the culprits were head in my direction and that I could track them down by the side of the Doti river.
The kids were totally senseless and one boy was bleeding badly from the cut he got from punching our mirrors. To my disbelieve there were two girls in same conditions making a show out of themselves on the road where hundreds were passing by.

Source: http://www.passudiary.com/

I often find a group of youngsters be seated in circle in a small tea shop down stair Namgyel Phodrang Shopping complex where I frequently visit to enjoy the delicious momo served there. Some in their new yellowish Korean hairdo, few with tattooed arms and Super star, all star, D.C and Red Bull and other brand of shoes were warming their feet. One day on my brief sitting I overheard one of them glorifying his friend’s inability to remember what had happened the previous night. He mentioned that they were involved in a fight where his ‘friend in the question’ single handedly had knocked down two of their rivals. I just wish his otherwise heroic friend was not under any sort of intoxicants. 

Just the other day, I found myself in between some boys while walking down the street in front of Mig Cinema Hall. On my right a couple of boys were saying something to the boy who was walking on my left side. The boy said nothing but simply raised his middle finger! Good Lord, they were close friends else I just might have been sandwiched by blows and kicks. I was as embarrassed as were the onlookers.

This is what’s happening in mild cold of this winter under Phuntsholing sky. Other stories that I heard from a student of the High School touched my heart with much vigor. The student revealed to me that during their school days his female classmates ask him to tattoo on their hands. And his male mates and others would cross the Doti River in lunch breaks to the other side of the river just to get drunk. That’s one part of the story. More shocking and even more heartbreaking for me as an educationist was to comprehend that the students drag themselves back to their SCHOOL. I wonder how they pay attention to the lectures presented. And amidst the chaos I can only pray and wish more strength and patience to teachers and parents in places where youth issue is a big concern to befriend, guide and mold them to better and productive citizens.

To tackle the current issue of traffic I believe another new bridge over Doti River has been laid on papers and to solve the shortage of LPG (cooking gas) another supplier agent which would fulfill the requirement of all the commercial consumptions is also entering the market soon. The supplier might ease the problem. The poor management of waste, large number of people and the malfunctions of ATM counters could be reasoned to the arrival of large number of people on their pilgrimage. But those should not be excuses for concern authorities to step back. I believe they must be also having a tough time and must be giving their best to provide the services. Better luck for them there!   

But as of now everything, everywhere, somehow is really not working well. In past few days even B-mobile lines are not clear or gets disconnected frequently. Here, I am not being critical at all but what is happening here is a matter of concern to all of us. It matters to me, to my family and it matters to my neighbors if these things keep on happening the way it is happening! If concern authorities don’t gear up but opt to keep bragging about pass victories and successes and rely on excuses I fear more days of worry, waiting, frustration, disappointment and less peace of mind are knocking the doors of the dwellers of this part of the country where Gross National Happiness is the mother of all the ideologies preached, practiced and believed in.

PART II: Today’s Phuntsholing Town: A long romantic affair on the line

Yesterday morning my brother and I had to wake up much earlier than at usual time. My mother had instructed us the previous day to take the empty LPG cylinder to the LPG booth below truck parking to get a new filled one. We somehow managed to win the battle of the morning bed. By 7:00 am in the morning we were out and at the place.

You cant spot me here because i am hidden by the truck

I was 97^th person standing in the line that kept on stretching as the clock tick. Out of sheer curiosity I asked one of the ladies behind me whether the queue is always this long.  On which she only replied with a YES nod. After almost 1 hr and 40 minutes of waiting my turn arrived. I had to show my LPG consumer card to a security guard (belly bulging doma(betel nuts) grinding machine…sorry I can’t describe him better) before I could get in to make the payment.

 I was aware that the card holder should come in person if he has to get a new filled cylinder. I was also informed by a notice on dusty wall that the date to get a new one must be at least after 15 days from the previous delivery. The Card I was holding belonged to my brother-in-law but the date of pervious issue was on 25^th October 2011. which mean that i could have refilled 4 cylinders if I had come on every 15^th day. My brother-in-law was out of station to attend some workshop but i thought the date of last issue could provide the chance to get at least one new filled cylinder. But my logical thinking was not entertained despite my numerous requests. My brother and I came with the same empty cylinder back home.

Later in the afternoon I went to Jaigoan to do some shopping where I shared the incident with my uncle who informed me that there are many people who earn Nu: 100 per cylinder (filled) when they sell it to third party within Phuntsholing town or in the bordering Indian town of Jaigoan. 'It’s a thriving business’, he said. He was as equally disturbed as I was on having to come in person the card holder himself to get a filled cylinder. He narrated an incident;

Once he happened to be alone at his resident. His wife and children had gone to village and his father -in-law, the card holder, was in Mumbai on some personal trip. At home the stove went off and he had to put up with his neighbor and resort to other means of cooking till his father in law returned. He strongly feels as I do that it is reasonable to get the cylinder filled only once every 15^th day but the need for the card holder to be in person to collect is pretty much problematic.  

Photo taken from Taxi Parking; nightmare of traffic at day light

 On returning home after the hot conversation and shopping I was caught in another queue…GOSH!!!...this time it was a long line of vehicles stranded in a heavy traffic jam. It took almost 1 hr 2o minutes to disperse. It was the longest waiting on the road. Thankfully it was raining yesterday else the dust from the side of the roads and from the pot holes on the road could have made the waiting even worse. The whistle of the traffic police is the order of the day this winter here. No wonder the latest excuse for arriving late at office or at home could be ‘sorry I was caught in the traffic jam’.

In between Bus Terminal and RICB colony; Evening dose of Traffic Jam 

The rush of the people, honking of cars, streets filled with litters and over flow of septic tank elsewhere is slowly eroding my love for this town……(to be continued….next is the last issue)….

 Somewhere in Phuntsholing Town a narrow street is littered with plastics and papers

In front of Truck Parking; A septic Tank over flows.

Today’s Phuntsholing Town: A long romantic affair on the line

This winter Phuntsholing Town neither could please me nor appeal me. I found this place at its worse situation ever. The condition of roads, dust, frequent traffic jams, crowded streets with pedestrians, failure of public services, poor management of waste, gang affiliation among students, long queue in front of ATM counters and even longer queue with  frustrated people waiting to fill LPG Cylinders at various booths. Bitter feelings crept in my heart to see one of my favorite towns suffer. It was as if I am experiencing first hand breakup of a long romantic affair.

My acronym for ATM is "Any Time Misery" 

The first thing I did when i first arrived here was to collect my ATM card from the Bank of Bhutan (bazaar branch) which was processed in my brief visit in last summer vacation. The concern officer then had told me that the branch was running short of cards and I can only avail it after few weeks. I didn’t had that long time to wait so decided to collect it in the following winter vacation. So here I was holding my own ATM card with considerably a good Bank balance to pop out frequently from that metal box and to make believe others that I am some Lakhpati or Crorepati. The stylish tall lady in the chamber inside issued the ATM card and informed me that it will get activated only after 24 hrs.

In the following day I went to Samdrup Jongkhar to help my parents shift to samtse. It was my father’s 13^th transfer in the span of 32 long years of dedicated service to the nation. Four days had passed in packing the stuffs.

Vehicles moving form SJ to P/Ling and G/Phu via Assam state.

On the fifth day, the last day to stay in the east, I was in need of some money so decided to finally use the ATM Card proudly. I flipped it few times between my fingers before entering the closed and secured room (where lots of money is kept inside and a curious small camera hung in one corner of the ceiling….funny part of it is that no matter where you stand inside you feel it is watching you always). To my disappointment there were no one outside or near by the ATM counter to showoff (I know you want to laugh your heart out….ok.. fine..do it..haha) but even more disappointment came when I inserted my card. ‘This card is not in the record’ read the thick screen in front of me.

Frustrated as I was I immediately called up the number posted on a piece of paper by the side of the screen to inquire. The officer on the other hand agreed to fix the problem. The system took another 24 hrs to mend the service. The opening ceremony of my ATM card was very good. I withdrew Ngultrum 40,000. Now here, i don’t want you to concentrate on the amount of money I withdrew or wonder how I spent it, the point I want to raise here is that the concern BOB officers (Phuntsholing BOB) who were accountable to activate my Card within 24 hrs of issue has shown Spectacular carelessness in their duty and has defamed the whole service.

That was in samdrup Jongkhar where not many came to use the ATM facility at once. Had this incident occurred here in phuntsholing it would have embarrassed me a lot. The day my card became active I was eagerly waiting to utilize the card where onlookers would be more in number. I got Excited because i was now back in Phuntsholing town after settling my parents in samtse.  And Phuntsholing town gave me the waited opportunity. But, I waited, waited and waited in a long queue which never seemed to get shorter. Finally when my turn came I was flashed with an instruction that stated ‘Host is busy….. Please visit to the nearest ATM counter!’ The waiting and the almost rude instruction dissipated my excitements. The nearest ATM counter was chained with even longer queue of people.

At times the ATM Counters do play some game. My sister once had to face it. She wanted to withdraw Nu: 3,000 from the ATM counter (T-Bank) situated in the Tashi Commercial Complex to do some purchase for her 18 months old baby girl. The screen kept on instructing ‘Please Try Again’. At her third attempt the transaction receipt still revealed that she has been debited with Nu: 0. She then left the counter for another one nearby.  On her way an alert message in her mobile beeped. It stated that Nu: 3,000 has been debited from her account. Thankfully when she checked her balance via mobile sms the balance was untouched.

Other services were also infected with the same disease and much disoriented. By Five o’clock in the morning people line up in front of LPG booths to exchange an empty cylinder with a filled one. 

….to be continued………..

CALL FROM THE COFFIN

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In the bead of sweat running down his skin

Saw his past fading in him

Thick silver light of moon turned so thin

As the darkness prevailed in

It was lonely night and so terrific

Only his shadow’s there to lean

But a tender voice came in

As he was walking down the fen

It was nothing else

But call from the coffin

Clamor of dread grew in him

Pleaded courage stammering

His heart and soul lost restrain

As the darkness prevailed in

Neither his deeds nor heaven’s blessing

Only his terrible fate was keen

Again a tender voice came in

As he was wailing over his sin

It was nothing else

But call for the coffin

(Its a song i wrote for a local rock band ‘EPITAPH’ while I was doing my studies in ST. Joseph’s College, North Point, Darjeeling)

On The Eve Of My Departure....

School  Captain presenting a gift to me.

  Caption not required!

 (Me in the center)Sharing some good old memories

A woman delivering Thanks giving speech on behalf on the community

Gifts from the community!

 I had the longest hugging session in my life..Aums, grandpas and grandmas were having tough time holding tears from their eyes.....few couldn't hold it... i shall never forget them in my life....God Bless Them All...

Aacho Karma Dorji

My name is Karma Dorji. I am 26 years old and I am married. I have two lovely daughters. Sonam Yangchen is my youngest daughter. She is just 1 year and 5 months old. And her sister Ngawang Tenzin Lhamo is barely 4 and half. Norbu Lhamo is my only wife. She is just 24.

Comparatively my family is the smallest one in the village and the youngest too. My wife is a simple woman. She is a good home maker. My elder daughter Ngawang Tenzin Lhamo imitates me a lot. She talks like me and also gets angry the way I do. Very recently Sonam Yangchen, her sister, started to move her tiny body throwing her hands in the air whenever i play some Bhutanese songs on my mobile. She has also started to bubble few words. She can perfectly pronounce the word ‘apa’ (daddy) which only resonate more love and care in me for my family. She also kisses me and waves her tender hands to say goodbye when I leave for work in the morning. Collectively this is our story but mostly this is My Story.

Sonam Yangchen busy munching a head of maize

Five months back we were staying at my mother’s house. Unlike in other countries, it is customary here that female eventually inherits the family house. My mother died three years ago so now the immediate inheritor is my elder sister Tashi Peday. We were all happy then. Her inheriting the house didn’t bother me much but things slowly started to change the day my sister got married. She got married with much younger lad who is from another village.

The fireside conversations often started to get more heated. There were more disagreements among us and bitter feelings for each other began to invade our hearts. With not much delay I made up my mind to live separately before things get worse. On my request my father summoned few senior villagers and village heads to be the witness and to bring fairness in dividing family property.

Blankets/mattresses and kitchen utensils were divided equally but the law of the land gave her the house, cattle and much of the fertile lands.

With nothing heavy to carry on my back I went to Meymay Dorji to ask him to allow us to stay at his old and unoccupied house for a period of six months. Within that period i informed him that I would build a small house and vacant immediately. Meymay agreed!

Four months were passed in the new house when I received a call from my elder brother Kuenzang Namgyel. He had left for Thimphu two years back in search of a decent job. Unlike other calls to inquire about us in the village this particular call was different. He requested me to send him a sum of Nu: 1, 50,000(one Lakh Fifty Thousand). Why? He has been asked that sum of money by someone in Thimphu in order to get a job in Dubai.

Dubai: progressivetimes.wordpress.com

My brother Kuenzang Namgyel told me that the country he will be visiting is a rich country. Tall buildings, sight of an ocean and he will be taking his lunch when I return home tired from my day’s work. He also shared with me that he will be flying in an Aero-plane from Paro International Airport to Dubai via the Indian Capital city. He informed me that the job he would be offered there is a lucrative one. So without any hesitation I immediately rushed to the BOB (Bank of Bhutan) office here in Trashiyangtse and credited a loan in my name and sent it to him in the same day.

In the village the news got spread! The people got extremely happy as if my bother will come back one day and take them all to that far away country.

Back home, things are getting pretty uneasy now. I have barely two months to live in meymay Dorji’s house free of cost and my kitchen stock has already kissed the floor. Getting work here is hard. I make some money from cutting wood chips and selling it to the agents here. I also earn an amount by helping lamas perform rituals in my village.

One evening when I was about to retire to my bed I again received a call from my bother. He informed me that he had to return from New Delhi because the prospective job has been postponed and he needs some more money to sustain in Thimphu.

Acho Karma and I sharing a moment together

(Although he is two years younger than me I call him Acho(elder brother) because he is shouldering a lot of responsibilities. He has two kids and a wife to look after, he wants to educate his younger brother so he doesn’t have to struggle like him, the huge loan is credited to his name and he also have to build a house for his own family.  I salute his courage)

Meymay Dorji: An Ex-Indian Army and a True GNH Citizen.

One cold evening Meymay Dorji, his wife Aum Zangmo and I were sitting near a small fire in his Thubtshang (Kitchen). Aum Zangmo had prepared butter tea for us. Taking a sip of hot butter tea and munching a fist full of Thangma( maize goody) the usual discussion of an Indian college graduate-turn-school Teacher and an ex-Indian Army  begins in a remote village  somewhere in Trashiyangtse.

The Kitchen where brain works more than mouth/stomach.

Meymay and my conversation always revolve within the malpractices and politics of India and Bhutan, five HMKs of Bhutan, his gone by stories as an Army man and about the burning issues of his community. May be my place of study and his association with India just clicked! Our mode of conversation?  Ekdum Paaka Hindi.

He and Aum Zangmo shared an incident related to the war between china and India of 1961. They were young then. They saw Indian Army withdrawing back from the war zone some 30 km from here. They saw them scavenge on leftovers in their food containers and saw few chewing grasses nearby. The Army men were exhausted and few badly wounded. Meymay says that many of the community people had already packed their basic necessities and were ready to leave towards south for safety. But they didn’t have to move as the war soon came to an end.

The recent issues of Gorkha Land and his visit to Gangtok in 1978 as a young Army man and the road accident that almost killed him then when he was driving a shantimaan which fell some 200 ft down the road crops at least once during our fire side conversations. He talks about another event which he loves to share with me is the golden Temple incident of Punjab where the Indian Army launched the Operation Blue Star. He tapped on my back when I connected the incident with the assassination of former Prime Minister of India Shrimati Indira Gandhi. She was murdered by her own body guard who happened to be a diehard Panjabi. Luknow, Assam, Ladhak, Haryana, Delhi, Jammu Kashmir, siliguri to name a few are places that I get a free trip to visit through Maymey’s often delightful conversations. 

The valley of Trashiyangtse

Recently Meymay candidly shares with me that the valley of Trashiyangtse could be the best spot to ambush enemies. How? He shares pointing to the surrounding hills that they could make an excellent place to make bunkers for Army. He then nods his head and clicks his tongue just to say ‘sir ji yea ekdum baria place hey’.

He is still an army like. Disciplined, tough and talking no nonsense. He is master of time management; he has to complete any task that has been scheduled for the day. He reminds me the famous quotation of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru whenever I postpone any work at hand; ‘Kaal Kare So Aaj Kar, Aaj Kare So Ub Pal Mein Pralaya Hoyegi, Bahuri Karoge Kub’. And when he finds me being late for school by few minutes he would remind me at our fire side conversation how crucial is time and rules to be followed when one has worn the uniform.

Talking about uniform, he has great respect for our national dress. He praises me in Hindi when I have worn my chupha neatly. But when it is out of order he would sneak up on me and arrange my chupha. ‘Paina hai tho gaurub say paino’ he would say me to show his frustration on seeing people disrespecting our national dress.

He has a conviction that the best part of Bhutanese Democracy has been its feature as a ‘democratic constitutional Monarch’. If both the heads of Government and the state were bestowed on the hands of commoners, who get elected as Prime Minister and President, where the King has no part in decision making, he believes our country will never prosper. His only wish is to see future Kings having the same veto power in making all the momentous decisions for the country. And please dare not to speak anything bad regarding any of the HMKs of Bhutan in front of him; you will be trashed with all the Punjabi vulgar words that i think I don’t have to mention here. You know them!  I heard him use it when he was talking about a drunkard man who lives on his wife's earning.

He believes there is an illegal logging going on in his community. He is concern that the illegal and extensive logging will further damage the only road which has been already marred by heavy summer rain. As of him, he reaffirms that in future he would also use timber to build new houses for his children but he would ask the permission of the concern authority if the tree doesn’t belong to him and he would use the timbers in his land in a sustainable manner.

He is also bothered by the issue of young girls getting pregnant without a legitimate father. He is very concern of the image of his village. He just can’t stand with such practices that tarnish the name of the village.

Maymey makes extra earning beside his pension by selling Dhapa (wooden plates). Meymay is as business minded as he is culturally and religiously inclined. He conducts annual rituals at his house with all the norms. He never compromises with anything till the puja is completed.

There you have it. A man I wish every village in our country be blessed with. People respect him with utmost sincerity here and he equally cares and loves them all. The best part of Maymey that I like the most is that he calls his Aum(wife) as ‘Mam Shab’ when he addresses her to me.