Things at Home

I played good Samaritan yesterday by presenting Choden with a female feline. Atleast now, we have  harmonious promotion of both the sexes at home though we lack it in our National Council. But how can we trust our people.
We fondly named her Sissy, the name that my daughter coined in an unceremonious way. I had to defer to her superior knowledge about names!
Talking of that tiny cat, she has more missions than NASA. I had assumed that Sissy would captain over our store to battle with the rats that play havoc time and again. I hadn't realised how nasty these rats were until recently when they munched my boxers in drawer C. Choden said that it was a bad omen. I said that it was an unwashed boxer that they attacked!
Now, sissy is desired to tackle those problems lest she be sent to an orphanage. The other enemy that she have to rid is frogs. I am unsure whether a cat loves frogs, but sissy is expected to keep frogs on her top menu and make a palatable dish out of it. The third in line, that requires the attention of her arboreal strength is, ofcourse, lizards. It has filled me with creepy fear after my mother informed that lizards' poohs are deadly poisonous and can be truly fatal. Cats loves lizards like we love chickens.:)
If it were not for those reasons, sissy has no rooms here.

Back to School scenes. Nothing impressive. We are learning hard about different types of substances in Class four. I usually ask them questions. They give me wrong answers mostly. I twist their ears for each mistake they make but they are relentless to learn.
"So, you can not still spell it?", i nearly shout at Tshering. She brings her ears as usual. I twist it as i bite my lips with disgust. "Thank you, sir", she would mutter timidly and hurry back to her desk. These kids, they would even thank me for spanking them!
We talk about the next substances: Gases. I tell them there are different types of gases and name them. I teach them that each gas its own typical odour. "You should be able to distinguish the common gases from its smell", i preach them. Simple. Differentiate those gases from its smell. "You should be able to smell those gases and tell whether it is ammonia or Hydrogen sulphide or the gas from your friends"!
They look accusingly at eachother.
Understand?
"Yes sir", they chorus back like a battalion in a morning drill.:)

More than an umbrella

I didn't realise until recently how terrible a rainy day would mean in southern foothills. Not even your jazzy made-in-Bangkok umbrella would defend you from the torrents. And the lightening. A benign thunder on one such day would sound some million times than a turbulent fart that you would let out after a nights sleep on a cold cement floor. My new smartphone hadn't had luck after being struck down with one of the thunders day before yesterday, while it was left on  the charger during the night. No kidding! Though it was a cheap made in china BlueBerry, it had features like future video games, that i assumed could be played on an omnidirectional treadmill!

Despite the rains, things are smoothly hush-hush these days. Yesterday,the NFE centre near my place got its sorrounding trimmed as the team from the election office arrived here to set up their machines:) I have'nt decided yet about the candidate that would cost my vote but surely i would cast it to one of them. Afterall, 5 years of active service or non-service by these worthy representatives makes all the difference about our GNHed country. One didn't get opportunity to vote in the first election since one was out of station but that was good. I had reasons without regret to point fingers at DPT for its prodigal governance. However, it is going to be different and quite difficult this time. Five parties have legally registered with ECB with nearly 300 candidates in total. That is quite a number. Well, there are other parties outside Bhutan making claims about its mandates but that is of no importance. No country is free from terrorists. However,we are all matured Bhutanese standing on a common purpose of life. We need more happy citizens at home.
There is no use in finding happiness, selling icecream in Oz and coming back with few extra dollars. For the fellow Bhutanese, i would suggest that we toil on our own land and be happy than find places to run errands in foreign lands, for that matter.We have answers for everything at home than abroad.

So i opted to remain at School and cast my vote diligently. Choden had proposed me about her new agenda: join some party! I let out my laugh without control. I told her that retirement benefits are too meagre and that might cost our "live happily ever after". I have personal example from my own father who served in civil service  for more than three decades. Post retirement, he had to downsize half his daily expenses. He does some garden, tends cattles and renders compulsory service to community developments, notably, digging in and un-digging water pipes that always need yearly repair. He drinks occasionally to defend himself from trauma and melancholy, i guess:).
But we have good parties in place. Revolving around the doctrine of GNH, all parties promise us with happiness.

Let us see?!

Teaching Matter

So it was "Matter" that i was teaching Science to my fourth graders for the last one week! I explained them that anything, almost ANYTHING is matter if it had mass and occupied space. After thorough explanation, i would still find few doubting Thomases. To make the lesson interesting, i narrated them this same joke that all of us heard.

"What is the matter?", a teacher once asked the two boys who were fighting. Pat came the reply,"matter is anything that has mass and occupies space".

Nothing happened. Silence. I asked them not to worry since it was a joke only. They looked at eachother and smiled back decidedly.

So, i explain the definition of Matter once again by citing many, many examples.  

 "Ugen, is this a matter?", i show him my fingers and point at my wedding ring.

"No sir!". The class laughs at his boldness.

"What is your opinion, DurgaNath?". "Yes sir", he breaks the silence after a long doubtful time. As slow as a snail, answers take long route before it drops off his mouth. I point at his Gho and ask if it is a matter. Blank.

Tell me something, i plead with him. No answer. I repeat my question so that he gets hint. "Gho ya matter inna?"

"No sir", he replies me timidly. Burst of laughter from the class. I ask him once again at random examples. Pen, books, stones, walls, bucket, comb. He gives right answer for half of the items. 

Hmm.. How should i teach?, i almost scream to them.

 "Fold your arms", i order them! "Now listen to me carefully". I re-do my whole lesson.

This i nothing, i tell you. I tell myself. There are 100 other teachers facing the same debacle. I get consoled that few thousands of teachers undergo same turmoil as i do and on a daily basis.

Well, talking of greener side here, it rained incessantly for few days. Even the best roof would give way to seeping rain in your bedroom. In the morning Choden would say she had to use bowls and buckets at various rooms it leaked at so many places. I am much of a diurnal species. It less bothers me to grasp things occurring at odd nightly hours. Despite, when it rains cats and dogs, i naturally get my most healthy sleep.:)

I suppose i am one sturdy teacher who can shout/teach for full seven periods and still lead my house members to cheer up the boys in the basketball match, thanks due to my sound sleeping regime! 

Honestly, it is a complete taboo in my home to let kids be awake later than 9 pm.

Also, we had the first literary competition in our school. It was an extempore speech competition with a large banner pasted on the multipurpose hall. It read: Extemporary Speech Competition.

I excused myself from the hall.:)

Captain and I

"Who is the Class Captain?", i yelled at them so that they could hear me. I had substitution in class PP since the teacher was on leave that day. Their response surprised me.
"Nga iin La", they raised their hands in unison.
 Amused, i asked them,"15 captains in a class?!".
A tiny but talkactive boy came forward and announced, "I am the real captain, sir". Intimidated by his claim, others came forward and each one of them pleaded to be the real captain! I felt guilty for having asked that unimportant question.
In the midst of that chorus, a girl came much closer, pulled my arms and uttered in sharchop that she was the real captain. "Aye, i knew it was you!", i answered her. Then, another boy came forward and uttered as if in oracular trance that there aint any captains in the class. He raised his hands near my face and his fingers fluttered like  prayer flags, in dismissal!
"Alright, go back to your seats", i asked all of them. "I do not want captains", i gave up my research of finding the leader in class PP. :(
It was like herding some 30 cattle in a meadow surrounded by maize field! A boy boxes another, one of them steps on another's feet, a group shouts while playing game with their desk-mates, some play, shooting paper-planes in the class etc etc. No sooner did the bell ring than i left their class without even looking back at them. "Too tough to handle them", i thought, being defeated at my own strength.

Life has come full circle and i am back in the class teaching those same stuffs for the N th time. Brighter students bring smiles. It makes me a part of their achievement. Dull ones, on the other hand, is more challenging to handle but i do survive at the end of the day. I am convinced that at one point of their life, these students would shine too. I possessed my metallic lustre quite late in life, i gave them my example. Lol.

Choden is back to square one, charting out loads of action plan for this year. I often offer my hand in her office(kitchen!) and help her in her vegetable garden. I lecture her on organic farming, hybridisation and garden ethics.
Same thing, again and again. And again.
Kids are catching up with the new place and their friends.
All in all, it is good to be in a new place, for a change, atleast.

My New School.

So we bid adieu from Chumey without much ado. Choden had wanted to prolong her stay there unaware that the theory of impermanence would not let that happen. Her mission calls her to south and she should embrace it and shine before old age catches her up.Seriously, most of the Bhutanese intense moments of love, hatred, celebrations, promotions usually end with tears.I pretended to shed few tears at the Farewell party that my old school arranged for me lest they mistake me for being too unorthodox.
Tears, idle tears!(Tennyson's?).
Few of my friends called me to check how i  was doing in my new school. I am happier now, i lied to them. Honestly!
Infact, i regularly get to go to India during weekends, i told them and that bolstered my first claim. Well, there is nothing much to boast about this cheap Indian slum that we famously call it Dhadgari. Most of the people are Boro tribe to whom sanitation seldom count. Few of the others are crooks that have put up ramshackle shops along the porous borders and nothing is cheap despite its cheapness!
And the Bhutanese comrades from Gelephu, of Hatisar fame(Old name) would throng there during Thursdays since it is their Bazaar day draining all the money to India yet again. Now talking of Hatisar, ironically only few elephants can be seen these days. Ofcourse, the mosquitoes have braved all the recent human activities to preserve its progeny and its vibrant culture. For these reasons none of the British Indians took any routes via Hatisar in the olden days since these places were unusually infested with mosquitoes, elephants and other wild animals and the rainfall played havoc to the missionaries. Not even J.C. Claude who    comparatively enjoyed good relations with Bhutanese rulers and knighted our first king with the K.C.I.E medal. Before their mission of probably clipping Tibet and Bhutan under their wings, they were driven back by the Indians.
 Come monsoon, i would be have to risk my life and cross the Maukhola basin in a boat. I would call up my friends at Bumthang and convey them the message that i am having good times travelling in a Ship!:)

Talking of my new school, the name takes one to the dreamy heights of boasting itself: Norbuling MSS. I was finally given the responsibility to look after the affairs of class IV A this year. Actually i had wanted to get Class I B so that it would make me easier to chat with my Sharchop colleague about my
class-teachership and re-create the old joke that sorrounded with class of I B. He he.
We have an elderly Principal who is silent and minds his own business. I could talk him only twice as of now.
I have concluded in my own opinion that this is one School that cares much not to lose its claim of being in Top Ten High Schools in Bhutan. I wonder how can any school bag such meritorious position at the first instance.
But compared to Chumey MSS, academically, students are better here. My story doesn't end here but for now, i would like to conclude.

Out of Station: II

Few days ago, it snowed much to surprise. There wasn't much in store except some dried chillies and potatoes. I have been complaining to Choden about the repetition of her menu but she said she couldn't help much. Except for the beautiful sunny day, there is nothing good being in Chumey in the winter.
On the greener side, i have got my new posting: Sarpang, it read. I almost regretted to have applied for transfer because i have always had this phobia of changing places and adapting to new faces but i am sure it is for the good reasons that i take leave from here. For teachers,there it is a great humiliation being in the same school. Your students come back to the same school as your colleague and shake hands with you saying: You are still here sir?
Two years shy of a decade, i am packing my things from Bumthang. Come next year, i intend to bask in the sub-tropical temperature in Sarpang and munch on fresh vegetables and fruits there. I bet the kidnappers would regret if they ever got their plans on me because there is nothing in me to exchange for their ransoms. But i would give them a list of people who needs to be kidnapped from our society or atleast from our government.:)

So i was travelling from with a passenger that i picked up from old Wangdi town, i told you? I almost took him to be some Indian worker but he was a good Bhutanese Nepali.
"Why did you resign?", asked him. There was a brief silence.
"Things are not going on as i have expected", he told me.
"You must have got lots of money when you resigned?".
"Yes. And finished repaying the loans i had!", pat came the reply. I felt miserable having asked that query in the first place.
No promotion. And what is more, he hadnt had his increment for the last 8 months. Reason: his salary reached the ceiling!(He told me some 18,000 plus) .
Ask for a posting, they send you in some remote villages, he said. His wife was presently in Lhuntse while he went to thimphu to complete his resignation.
In the course of our long conversation, it took us to his days of 1970s. He had completed his 6th grade when he opted to join in the government service. Few months later, he was in Thimphu training to be HA. He started with that post and and ended with the same post. 32 years of HA-ing!! Twice he had the opportunity to go outside Bhutan: Tamil Nadu and few years ago to Nepal.
Well we talked a lot of topic including the medicine, sanitation, rain-water harvest, surgery, Ngolops, and hydropower projects in Bhutan.
So he was heading to Trongsa to apply for some medical jobs in Mangdechu project. He told me that his prospects weren't good given his basic qualification. "First question they ask is, what is your qualification?", he told me with regret. "Oh, it is not same", i tried to defend him. A primary graduate in 1970s can easily compete with a general graduate of 21st century, i put in.
"I am happy now". There were smiles in his eyes."I couldn;t construct a house for myself but i have educated all my five kids", he boasted. I bowed my head in acceptance.

We reached at Trongsa past darkness. He bought me a beer while he sipped his coffee. We bid goodbye with warm wishes to each other.
Just then i realised that i haven't even asked his name. "Sir, your good name sir?", i asked him. "Loknath Sharma, la", he told me.
"Kadrinche. Hope we meet again sir", i told him as we turned to different directions thence.

Out of Station..

It has been quite sometime since i last updated my blog. Firstly, i was busier than bees seeing over the home examinations of the school. Despite, i was helping Choden to pack things for the winter vacation. And secondly, i had to go out of station for more than a week. Well, not for workshop. It is simply pity to think of teachers going to workshops. At my side, i console myself by regularly visiting the workshop to mend my troublesome car and that gives me high self-esteem to boast the frequency of workshops i attended:). At any cost, there is no point in knocking the doors of various departments asking if they have any vacancies for the winter workshop. Most of them, nay almost all of them say that they have already sent the letters to the DEO for nominations. " You know,everything is decentralized. We dont nominate any candidates directly." I remember officer X explaining to me few days ago. Things have become more transparent, atleast it seems so!
Infact, i had to brave against another personal bereavement back in my village. It was my maternal Aku who expired recently and i couldn't but make my presence for his 21st funeral rites. Going to my village was not that easy. Afterall, what is there to brag about a kheng region? I wonder why our Lyonchen is making his efforts touring the poor and neglected kheng region sporting his Gucci that was supposedly given away as a parting gift by Ban Ki-Moon during his last honey-Moon in the headquarters of the UN. I tell you he is digging his own grave making his first visits in those region in all his tenure.
After 15 years, Gongphu haven't changed much. If you saw one village elder in bata slippers, you should be lucky! But happy they are as they were. Untouched by ruthless modernism or any global korean fever, it stands out tall in its primitive life cycle.
Since we rarely stayed in the village or ever visited, it was difficult for them to recognise us. I had to repeat my mother's name for countless times to let them know how genuinely i was related to them. Two days later, we had to leave. I looked back at my village with fond memories and sadness. There is no point in trying to make them realise how wonderfully the world outside their circumference had developed. My mother cried while left her widowed sister back in the village while i drove more speedily to run away from there.

Driving back from Wangdi, i saw that scenic ruins of the Dzong and i prayed for some more ruins in future. He he he.
Just as i was about to cross the old Wangdi town, i was stopped by another elderly citizen who wanted to go to Trongsa. I surveyed him at once. By any means, he was aged(hexagenarian) and that gave me reasons not to be scared. These days it is dangerous to pick up strangers in your car.
"Trongsa huh?"
"Yes la", he answered to me politely.
As we talked, i came to know he went to Thimphu to complete his formalities since he had resigned from the government service two months ago. He served the Ministry of Health for 32 years as a HA(Health Assistant) mostly in the remote eastern Dzongkhags. I asked him why he did resign when it was nearly time for his superannuation.
He has his own story which i will not write this time.