tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85978206817233599922024-03-14T01:16:31.553-07:00Sidhi BhadraFinding expression . . .Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-61606534796243446142014-03-17T04:56:00.000-07:002014-03-20T21:40:21.125-07:00Nepal moments pictorially <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Being in a foreign land can be exciting as well as
amusing. My visit last week to Kathmandu and Lumbini in Nepal to attend Lumbini
International Conference on Media and Peace was filled with spiritually
stimulating moments as well as lighter, memorable moments. I posted a few lines
and pictures on serious, contemplative subjects in my previous posts. In this
post, let me share with you some lighter moments pictorially. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">A Bhutanese can feel pretty at home in Kathmandu. When
you shed the national dress that sets you apart, you can be easily taken for a
Nepalese of Tibetan stock from the hills. And if you speak some Nepali, the
locals wouldn't have a second thought about your nationality.
Although your ability to integrate into a foreign society instantly can be
helpful in many ways, it can deprive you of some small privileges that
foreigners enjoy, particularly if you are staying in a tourist hub like
Kathmandu’s Thamel district. Thamel is so full of tourists that every local
seems to exist and work only for tourists. For them, locals do not exist. Or so
it seems. If you look like a Nepalese, handicraft sellers do not notice you
even if you stand in their shops poring over their items for several minutes.
They break into a big grin the moment an English-speaking, fair-skinned
westerner pops in. ‘Welcome, sir. Anything you need, sir? This made of all pure
baby yak hair, sir. Giving discount also, sir,’ a sullen-looking shopkeeper is
suddenly inspired to praise his goods in a stream of sir…sir…sir. You can be
forced to feel faceless. It’s something akin to the habit of bigger handicraft
shopkeepers in Bhutan. When a Bhutanese walks into a handicraft shop and asks
the price of an item, the response one usually gets is, ‘It’s expensive’ or ‘Do
you want to buy it?’ In Thamel, a Nepalese-looking person is hardly noticed
anywhere – in shops, bars, coffee shops, and restaurants. Even toilets seem to
be all marked out for tourists.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 18pt;">Next time you are in Kathmandu, don’t forget to read
the signboards. If signboards are character traits of a city, Thimphu and
Kathmandu are unmistakably sisters. A small roadside shop in a corner of
Gongabu in northern Kathmandu has put up this signboard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">And this ‘shose’ store in Gongabu.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">The label on this Tuborg beer is packed with
information and messages. Two lines that stand out are: Deserve to sit back/And
enjoy responsibly. I like both the lines. The first line uses the word deserve
intransitively, which sounds not quite correct but quite creative. Read it
again and think of possible meanings. It is interesting, isn't it?
The second line is the right thing to do. Comparatively, Bhutan’s Druk
11000 has hardly any text on the label.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 18pt; text-align: justify;">And this on the doors of the toilets at a roadside
restaurant between Lumbini and Kathmandu. This is cutely simple and straight. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">I noticed something on this signboard in English and
Tibetan at the Boudha Stupa in Kathmandu. Doesn't the translation of
‘no entry’ in Tibetan read more polite than the Dzongkha translation which
is mostly </span><span lang="BO" style="font-family: 'Microsoft Himalaya'; font-size: 14pt;">ནང་ན་འཛུལ་མི་ཆོག་</span><span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-42569534319735310282014-03-15T01:25:00.001-07:002014-03-20T21:40:38.844-07:00An afterthought for Lumbini <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Utsaah","sans-serif";">I
visited Lumbini in Nepal last week. Two and a half millennia after the birth of
Prince Siddhartha, who later became Lord Buddha, the Awakened One, the place is
still imbued with deeply spiritual aura. Away from the dusty, noisy, and
chaotic Kathmandu city, Lumbini is not only an oasis of tranquility, but also a
spiritual haven. Located in the <i>tarai </i>region
of Nepal, Lumbini draws people, especially Buddhists, from all over the world. Lumbini Garden, the exact spot where Queen Maya Devi gave birth to Prince
Siddhartha, is a magnet to both locals and foreigners. It’s popularly known as
Maya Devi Temple although the structure resembling a temple is, in fact, an
archeological structure built to protect the spot in the garden where Lord
Buddha is believed to have taken seven steps right after birth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Utsaah","sans-serif";">Some
30 kilometres away are the ruins of Kapilavastu Palace where Prince Siddhartha
lived until he was 29. Walking over the ruins of the palace, it’s hard not to
feel a sense of impermanence. It was the same place which was once bustling
with life with Prince Siddhartha at the heart of a beehive of activity. Leading
a princely life within the palace walls of the prosperous kingdom, Prince
Siddhartha thought all good things surrounding him were going to last forever
until he saw a sick person, an old person, and a dead body outside the walls of
the palace. He immediately realised that all compounded things were immaterial
and impermanent. And he was right. Nothing remains today of that great palace
of King Sudhodana except what Prince Siddhartha sought outside the walls of the
palace, the meaning of impermanence. Visiting Kapilavastu brings home, powerfully, the message of
impermanence Lord Buddha taught. I suppose that’s what a pilgrimage does to the
human mind. That’s because we can connect to the sublime because, as Buddhist
masters say, each sentient being carries the seed of Buddhahood, that precious gem
ready to shine forth when worldly obscurities are removed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Utsaah","sans-serif";">Lumbini
is today quietly bustling with activity for temples of different countries
around the world are sprouting around the birthplace of Lord Buddha as part of
Lumbini development plan. The plan laid out on 777 hectares of land is divided
into three zones – sacred garden, monastic zone, and new Lumbini village. The
vice chairman of Lumbini Development Trust told me Bhutan has been given two plots of land in the monastic zone, but no Bhutanese temple has come up on the
plots. Nepalese, German, Vietnamese, Chinese, French, and Singaporean temples,
among others, have already been completed. Some of them are reverberating with
the sounds of dharma. Lumbini is set to change dramatically. And soon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif;">Tomorrow,
the 15</span><sup style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: Utsaah, sans-serif;"> day of the first lunar month, is believed to be highly
auspicious because it’s the final day of Chothrul Duechen. Lord Buddha is
believed to have displayed a number of miracles in the first 15 days of the
first month culminating on the full moon day. Therefore, I thought it’s fitting
to publish some pictures of Lumbini I took with my mobile phone. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BHQMCzq0Y6IcJUvCLoEL57FrdWprOaHxbCA2OheP8iiBUC6vQ8F88sOtf7YGTIeifK0TZxH8i6pAgLJq8mGkJRwpQs37e82-KxUZm3UfPG4U2PqNmJYMwutKN9uYt0tmE9nYQxHiWfAy/s1600/20140308_105000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BHQMCzq0Y6IcJUvCLoEL57FrdWprOaHxbCA2OheP8iiBUC6vQ8F88sOtf7YGTIeifK0TZxH8i6pAgLJq8mGkJRwpQs37e82-KxUZm3UfPG4U2PqNmJYMwutKN9uYt0tmE9nYQxHiWfAy/s1600/20140308_105000.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Lumbini Garden. The exact spot where Queen Maya gave birth to Lord Buddha clutching a branch of a sal tree is inside the white structure known as Maya Devi Temple. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-f59ekHjeodBUzKBhEnmwlivaCDTsOLBtwHNNN-P0mGlqjI1APMYj80gajPSfAaKYLXf5oZkoAkwu-3tCihCVikk57g07_wZLSZyhipU-E8jDqfe_o7z50dZk4RAg3x_69XxM6CxcUSm2/s1600/20140308_094755_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-f59ekHjeodBUzKBhEnmwlivaCDTsOLBtwHNNN-P0mGlqjI1APMYj80gajPSfAaKYLXf5oZkoAkwu-3tCihCVikk57g07_wZLSZyhipU-E8jDqfe_o7z50dZk4RAg3x_69XxM6CxcUSm2/s1600/20140308_094755_resized.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The open space of western monastic zone allocated for Mahayana Buddhism. Bhutan's temple would have come up somewhere around here. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNwV6tGc5o8hS8Amu-d9nUjr70hymNksJL28JnPE5yCqaLnO5iqInvMbnLeiVoYvT1g1c-uP1sJRBoO0FBmrMdETF_ItLLEV2VUrvUsGbIjUsw9pXxaFfAC3WbvnZDhLlMe7g7QkwB6vXf/s1600/20140308_091413_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNwV6tGc5o8hS8Amu-d9nUjr70hymNksJL28JnPE5yCqaLnO5iqInvMbnLeiVoYvT1g1c-uP1sJRBoO0FBmrMdETF_ItLLEV2VUrvUsGbIjUsw9pXxaFfAC3WbvnZDhLlMe7g7QkwB6vXf/s1600/20140308_091413_resized.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">French temple in the monastic zone</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-17683341476306124752014-03-09T22:51:00.001-07:002014-03-20T21:40:56.191-07:00Images from Kapilavastu <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxt01m2n82izXD0qDxduki6DnsG1Qs7mww0GWJBwlkdsKzv_rBRpH1ws4AMNK4HLBRavu245b8JCiR7rmExBiXiPfTsJIA0R0n2uVVZwAEOZwwp1tYC1WnCLrRHyCP-pb7gpJJKz7JwdD/s1600/20140308_131546_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxt01m2n82izXD0qDxduki6DnsG1Qs7mww0GWJBwlkdsKzv_rBRpH1ws4AMNK4HLBRavu245b8JCiR7rmExBiXiPfTsJIA0R0n2uVVZwAEOZwwp1tYC1WnCLrRHyCP-pb7gpJJKz7JwdD/s1600/20140308_131546_resized.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;">This are the ruins of the western gate of Kapilavastu Palace in the Rupendehi district of Nepal. It is believed to have been heavily fortified. Gautama Buddha lived within the walls of this palace for 29 years of his life before renouncing the worldly life. Suddhodana, Lord Buddha's father, was a powerful Sakya king. Sakya kingdom, which included the Lumbini area, was later destroyed by a rival king and all members of the clan killed. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLy_kWd3L5EFeQCFvm5wXdfgLjS7684U0Z_l4OItFOXi0AHUn8JPCgAHXZZb6rC7vqxuJ_4vdqUwPB1mJqZbsXynANKwzlpLs0jBqio-MvxKRSUYr3P7Oz6cFomvDxU3rtV8VReQ5lXB_6/s1600/20140308_131606_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLy_kWd3L5EFeQCFvm5wXdfgLjS7684U0Z_l4OItFOXi0AHUn8JPCgAHXZZb6rC7vqxuJ_4vdqUwPB1mJqZbsXynANKwzlpLs0jBqio-MvxKRSUYr3P7Oz6cFomvDxU3rtV8VReQ5lXB_6/s1600/20140308_131606_resized.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;">Archaeologists have unearthed coins with Sakya inscriptions from this square area near the western gate of Kapilavastu Palace. People today believe that this would have been the exact spot where coins were minted before the palace was sacked. The moat is believed to have been beyond this gate and falls outside the enclosure today. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-20980030661290081152014-03-06T00:33:00.000-08:002014-03-20T21:42:11.203-07:00Jigme Namgyal's kasho <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first lunar month is a holy month. It's called Chothrul Dawa or the Month of Miracles. Lord Buddha is believed to have performed different miracles in the first 15 days of the month to augment the spiritual merit of his disciples. In Bhutan, the holy month is observed by banning the sale of meat. Such government decisions to save life, I gather, is not new to Bhutan. The following decree of Trongsa Ponlop from a book I just finished translating makes it abundantly clear. Gongsar Jigme Namgyal, the father of the first King of Bhutan, issued the decree in the Female Rabbit year of 1885, two years after he became Trongsa Ponlop. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Shri
Karma Vajra Guru Yey! To the people of the east of Southern Land – from this
side of Pelela, north of Kheng Bhadey and Kher Kher on the southern foothills,
south of Tshampa and Tawang [Arunachal Pradesh] on the Tibetan border; all the
areas under the control of Chotse Ponlop. Dzongnyer Lezin, lamas and </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">lopons</i><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">, representatives, </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">nyerpas</i><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">, </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">garp tozen </i><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">[the lowest-ranking attendants], </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">khochey ponchen </i><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">[religious aristocrats], all chieftains, common people, religious
figures, monks, soothsayers and astrologers, yoginis, hunters and fishermen,
cowherds and shepherds, travellers and traders, wanderers, and children – bear
this in mind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">According
to all <i>sutra</i> and <i>tantra</i> texts containing the teachings of Lord Buddha, taking life
carries the biggest sin among all non-virtuous deeds. Those who are inclined to
take life will be reborn, soon after the moment of death, in the hell realms
where they will be scorched in a burning iron chamber and their bodies cut into a
hundred pieces by different weapons. Each day, they are killed between a
hundred and a thousand times and revived for so many times. They undergo such
suffering for several aeons.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If
they are reborn as <i>pretas</i> [yi dwags],
they suffer from hunger and thirst, and if born as animals, they suffer
endlessly from servitude and being slaughtered. Even if they are reborn as
humans, they will be afflicted with many diseases and will have a short life.
They will die in the mother’s womb or right after birth. Should they escape
death at this stage, they will be killed by weapons, lightning or hailstone, or
meet their end falling off a cliff. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Refraining
from taking life for even one day prevents one from being born in times of
epidemics and war, averts sudden death, removes obstacles, and prevents
diseases leading to a long, happy and peaceful life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There
are accounts of Gyalpo Jampai Tob, Lha Tshangpa [Lord Brahma], Lha Jajin [Lord
Indra] and Songtsen Gampo averting degenerated times and reviving the golden
era [bskal pa bzang po] through institution of laws based on ten godly virtuous
deeds. Learned personalities and treasure discoverers have said with one voice
that the people of Bhutan suffered from conflicts and diseases because of their
unbridled proclivity for killing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">From
now on, as long as the teachings of the Buddha flourish, whoever dwells in this
land shall refrain from doing harm to any form of life, including humans and
domestic animals, birds and wild animals, fish and other aquatic creatures
thriving in the rivers and streams, insects and flies living on land, cliffs
and trees. No human or non-human shall do them any harm. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Manslaughter
in particular carries the heaviest punishment. Involuntary manslaughter is
punishable by <i>phampi tungwa</i> [a category of sin that brings worst consequences] and voluntary manslaughter is punishable by death sentence.
Premeditated robbery along footpaths, killing over women and out of
intoxication, killing not in the interest of <i>dharma</i> and sentient beings, serving poison, abortion by using musk
and dye by prostitutes and nuns, foeticide – all of these shall
be deemed to be an act of murder. Upon confirming the acts after investigation,
individuals guilty of these acts, irrespective of wealth and reputation, shall
be consigned to fire or river along with their victims. These acts shall not be
pardoned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Inflicting
injury using assault weapons and purchase, sale and production of poison shall
pay by having their hands chopped off. Courtiers who travel to the villages
shall not be allowed to order the slaughter of chicken and pigs for their
consumption or kill these animals by stoning and bludgeoning. They shall not be
allowed to harass women and girls and take them as brides only to demand money
later from villagers through deception and manipulation. No one shall be
allowed to take any advantage of the villagers. Courtiers on official
assignments shall strictly conduct themselves within the limits stipulated by
the letter of assignment. Should there be courtiers misbehaving, village
chieftains and elders should remind them to conduct themselves better. If they
failed to take heed of the reminder, villagers can join force to deal with them
physically. The authorities will not take offence. Even killing some
intractable courtiers in the process shall be pardoned provided that the
authorities are kept informed about it. However, if the villagers put a
courtier to death without enough justification, the act shall be punishable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Catching
innocent fish is a big sin. It will result in one being reborn in the hell
realm where one will be forced to swallow molten iron. No one shall catch even
fingerlings from rivers and streams in the entire Zhongar region, including
Kuri Shongmed and Menmo Sheri Murung areas. Whoever poisons water bodies for
fish, whoever makes and owns fishing nets or snares, whoever blocks migration
paths of fish and damages their breeding grounds shall have his hands cut off.
Except when building bridges or embankments, digging water channels, and
collecting fire wood by riverside, no one shall, after crossing a river, come
back and play in the river or by the banks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">From
the first day of the third month to the end of the tenth month, no one shall
destroy hives of any kind of bee for honey and nests of all kinds of wasps for
larvae. Those who do not heed this rule shall pay with their hands. No one shall
commit the above crime on the pretext of collecting abandoned or fallen
beehives and wasp nests. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Forest
fire, not excepting one accidentally caused by agricultural activities like
shifting cultivation, is prohibited. Not a tiny patch of forest shall be set on
fire intentionally. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Besides
those harming humans, domestic animals, and crops, no wild animal living on
forest resources shall be hunted down using hounds or bow and arrows. One
guilty of this offence shall lose his hands. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Apart
from unavoidable and unintentional killing while working or walking, no one –
not even children – shall kill insects, flies, frogs, and worms in sport. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Killing
all kinds of birds, including fowls like the blood pheasant and the monal
pheasant, using snares and building barricades shall be a punishable offence.
One’s own domestic animals can be killed only according to the demands of
cultural norms like periodic rituals, travel needs, and reciprocal visits.
After raising them like one’s own children and employing them like servants,
benevolent animals that provide our needs such as milk and fur shall not be put
to death and their body parts traded for cereals, dyes, cotton, and textile.
This offence shall lead to the loss of hands. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For
propitiation rituals for deities, guardians and spirits, meat offering shall be
limited to pork once in a year. Regular meat offerings shall be limited to
dried meat, besides eggs and cash. And for the purpose of offerings, even if a piglet
or a chick is sacrificed, hands shall be cut off as punishment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oracles,
astrologers, mediums, shamans and yoginis shall, out of avarice, not practise
harmful occult religions and speak of the need to sacrifice animals. Any such
practitioner, who makes a slightest mention of animal sacrifice, shall have his
or her mouth slit vertically.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Dzongpons</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
should make copies of this decree and distribute them to the following with
detailed explanation and guidance: lamas and <i>lopons</i>, representatives, keepers of <i>dzongs</i>, supervisors, bridge controllers and low-ranking <i>garps</i>, <i>chojes</i>, <i>khoche</i> and <i>ponchen</i>, chieftains, religious figures,
ordinary people, traders and travellers, cowherds and shepherds, cowherds of Bumthang, hunters and fishermen, bird hunters, and innocent children. Moreover,
village chieftains should remind the masses in general and following
individuals in particular about the decree, frequently, every month:
Soothsayers, astrologers, shaman, <i>jomo</i>,
yoginis, mediums, bridge controllers, hunters, fishermen, bird hunters, cattle
herders, shepherds, wandering children, travellers, traders, and cattle herders
of Bumthang. If those who are responsible for giving directives do not do
their job, their mouths shall be slit vertically. If people do not take serious
note of their directives and fail to live up to them (directives), their ears
shall be cut off from the base. If some go against the directives clandestinely
pretending not to have heard about them, they shall meet their end. If <i>dzongpons</i> concerned do not execute the
directives properly and in full measure, they shall lose their post. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We
call upon eight groups of guardian deities, namely Chamdrel Maning Nagpo,
Legoen Tragshed Sogdued, Drangsong Za, Tshangpa, Chabjug, Wangchuk, and Jajin
to take ownership of the directives and punish anyone who fails to abide by
them. We also call upon local deities such as Lhamo Remitey, Jangi Duepa and
retinue, three manifestations of Leshin, Jomo Tshogtshong, and Dahungpa to
follow suit. If these deities failed to exercise their might soon enough, let
the displeasure and wrath of Pal Heruka (yab-yum) and Sangdag Thrinley Khachab
befall them. Those who can write, make as many copies of the letter as you can.
Keep it in each village, understand the content and follow it. All the people,
big and small, bear this in mind! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 27pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Issued
from Chokhor Rabtentse [Trongsa Dzong] on an auspicious day of the tenth month
of the Wood Rabbit year. Bidza Haram! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-57246083173292365922012-04-23T06:32:00.000-07:002012-04-29T02:36:33.450-07:00When Thimphu becomes one<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKB9u_Zt3-l1XT852FqnNE2TNiNCBAh4E-PRcC1ORKQDUKyZ6VXLBDiqLYJLBMIen1GZj0YB57cU76OuCHTqnmdaGIRPXLdqeqxLoqU30EFhqYbtMaF8Mbh3QwN2JL6vBOya3XN83KSGz/s1600/21042012325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKB9u_Zt3-l1XT852FqnNE2TNiNCBAh4E-PRcC1ORKQDUKyZ6VXLBDiqLYJLBMIen1GZj0YB57cU76OuCHTqnmdaGIRPXLdqeqxLoqU30EFhqYbtMaF8Mbh3QwN2JL6vBOya3XN83KSGz/s320/21042012325.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;">It's a poor mobile phone picture </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">Last Saturday, I watched the grand finale of Bhutan Lil’
Champs at the Clock Tower square in Thimphu. A huge crowd had gathered at the
otherwise empty place an hour before the show began. The show was supposed to
start at 6 pm, but by the time the presenter appeared on the stage, it was
already 6:30 pm. By that time, the crowd had swelled and the sky had become
dark and overcast. Huge, sporadic drops of rain had made some people in the
crowd predict aloud that it was going to rain.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">At long last, the presenter, Tawchu Rabgay, introduced the
judges of the show after he sang <i>Nyilam
Nangluya Mena Mo</i> (Isn’t it in a dream?), one of the first rigsar songs that
originated in Sherubtse campus in the college’s heyday. It was composed and
sung by one Tashi, a popular singer then. It is a haunting, soulful song of a
lover trying to come to terms with separation from his love. In the song, the dejected
lover likens himself to ‘the rocks on the earth’ and his love to ‘the stars in
the sky’.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">As Tawchu Rabgay introduced popular singer Ugyen as the
‘cheychey’ (darling) of the Bhutanese people, the crowd broke into a
thunderous applause. Young boys craned their necks to catch a glimpse of him
from behind an impenetrable wall of cheering people. Unable to see the singer,
one of them shouted to his friend in the front, “I presume he is in the same
black gho.” His friend didn’t care to respond, but he was right. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Halfway through the first song, the sound system failed
completely. The excited crowd fell silent for a moment and then became noisy.
The organisers scurried about trying to fix the problem. A chilly gush of wind
laden with rain droplets swept through the crowd, and everybody shouted in
unison, “It’s raining!” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Without the help of a microphone, the organisers had no
line of communication. But as the crowd became increasingly restless and
impatient, Tawchu Rabgay reappeared on the stage, raised his joined palms to the
forehead in a gesture of supplication, and made an apologetic bow. </span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">After about 15 minutes, the problem was fixed and music
came back. The child singers kept shouting ‘jabchor zhugay la’, which literally
means ‘support please’, while they meant to say ‘applause please’. The DDC
secretary once rightly remarked that the Dzongkha equivalent for ‘applause’
could be ‘lekso’ and not ‘jabchor’. But Bhutan’s reality shows keep using the
word ‘jabchor’ to ask for a round of applause as well as SMS votes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">For all the shrieks for applause, the singers couldn’t
drive the audience wild. This was not because the audience didn’t enjoy the
show, but because getting wild and boisterous is not in the Bhutanese culture.
This could be because generations of Bhutanese, through centuries, have known
only serious, contemplative zhungdra and boedra. Traditionally, it would be
considered disrespectful and rude to shout and sing along in enjoyment. So, if
you are a singer, and if the audience is unusually silent next time you
perform, do not get them wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">The small town square was overcrowded and throbbing with
life. As always, there was a huge appetite for music. For a few hours,
thousands of Thimphu residents, who at other times argue over different
matters, came together to partake of something they all agreed was sweet. And
for an evening, Thimphu truly became one. It’s a powerful unifying agent,
music. As a newspaper man, I have realised how often the news media pit our
people against one another. Like in all other things, it’s inevitable and not
necessarily bad, but sometimes it’s painful. That’s why music is there, I
think. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-68038936964519289622012-04-22T20:31:00.001-07:002012-04-22T20:33:11.516-07:00The Walking Tarayana<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">This insightful article on Bhutan and the Bhutanese written by Ms </span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><i>Mieko Nishimizu, former World Bank Vice President, appeared in Bhutan Observer in March, 2009. It was translated into English by the author from one of her column series published in </i>Sentaku<i>, a monthly magazine published in Tokyo, Japan. I hope you will enjoy it. </i></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> was my maiden visit to the Land of Thunder Dragon,
Bhutan, and the day before heading to live in a remote village. Immersion
exposure to rural poverty had by then become an indispensable feature of my
official itinerary everywhere.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">During obligatory rounds of Thimphu, the nation’s
capital, a Minister upon hearing my plan declared there was no poverty in
Bhutan. “My country is poor, if measured by such yardsticks as per capita
income. But, we are not like other developing nations. Agriculture may be near
subsistence. But, farmers are well off, and there are no beggars in towns.
There is no poverty in Bhutan!” Half in doubt and half in disbelief, yet I
could not ignore his pronouncement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The village was far from the capital city itself. A full
day’s journey eastward by car, to the heart of the nation called Trongsa.
Another day’s journey skyward on foot, on a rugged near vertical mountain path.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">At last came a village into view, where time drifted more
slowly. It was the time of joy – of good harvest and winter readiness. Ripe
mountain peppers (zanthoxylum piperitum) bowed their heavy branches and
perfumed the air everywhere. Yonder, over wave after wave of mountain range,
sparkled the silver-whites of the Great Himalayas. A beautiful place in the
country, this village called Bemji was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">No electricity or piped water, but Bemji boasted a
primary school, a health clinic, and even a veterinary clinic. Etched into the
sunny side of the slope below was a thousand- layer paddy field, home to an
ancient variety of red rice. Life of Bemji’s rice-growing farmers was
prosperous far beyond my expectation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Too substantial to be called farmhouses, Bemji’s homes
carried the air of lesser manor houses that dot the English countryside. The
ground floor reserved for livestock was whitewashed earthen walls of
substantial girth and height. The second floor for family quarters, and the
third floor for altar and guest, were constructed of finely fitted woodwork.
Auspicious symbols in many-colors danced on the walls and window frames.
Between traditional roofs of cedar shingles weighed down with rocks against the
mountain wind, shone silver corrugated metal ones. Subsidized for forest
preservation, apparently.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Ablutions and sundry water duties were performed at an
outdoor well. But, an indoor flush toilet amazed me, even though with water
carried up in a bucket, climbing two flights of near vertical stairs. A stone
bath under the open sky was a luxurious pleasure. Red-hot rocks thrown in at the
bathtub’s end gurgled and boiled and steamed the water. “Place a berried
juniper branch just so, when the rocks’ minerals finish melting, and it is
quite medicinal,” I was told.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Villagers don hand-loomed traditional dress as their
daily attire even out in the field. They looked decidedly splendid in their
formal dress, indeed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The most astounding of all, however, was their autumnal
cuisine. Mushrooms sautéed with chili peppers, in a pungent sauce of yak
cheese. Blanched flower buds of edible orchids, their medicinal flavor faintly
bitter and quite pleasing to taste. Pickled tinge, or those mountain peppers
whose Japanese cousin we call sansho. A soup of flagrant green riverweed,
gingerly scraped off rocks of streams below, and gracefully floating in a delicate
clear broth. “His Majesty is fond of it, too,” smiled my kindly apa, the master
of this manor house I called my home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Shape the red rice in the palm of one hand, dip the
oblong rice ball into the dish of your choice, catch morsels deftly between the
rice and your fingers, and throw it in your mouth, just like how it is done
with our sushi, actually. Even to this day, recalling those meals makes my
mouth water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Home brewed ara and chung were delectable. A customary
warning of “makes you vigorous, watch out!” left trails of chuckles and giggles
and two-eyed winks, as chungkay made its jovial round. Brewed orchid or
mistletoe tea, churned purple with heaps of yak butter and a dash of rock salt
for the final touch – this seuja poured life back into one’s veins, after a
hard day’s work out there on the farm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">But, in the shadows and crevasse of such prosperity,
there was poverty. Children busy at work, fetching water, cleaning house, in
the middle of what should be a school day. They had lost their guardians to
this ailment or that accident… A house of crumbling walls, earth melting and
white wash peeling. A long and serious illness meant survival by selling their
farmland piece by piece… A quiet house in daytime turning pitch-black at night,
not a single candlelight leaking out. The whole family was blind, forced to
rely their livelihood on the goodness and philanthropy of the community…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">People surviving silently. Their vulnerable lives on a
knife’s edge. Falling off the well-endowed life of the land to farm and the
healthy body to farm it…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">I was furious. I met that Minister again, and vented my
steam. “The majority of your people live beyond a day’s walk from the road.
What you see from your car is not at all your country. Go see for yourself, on
your own two legs!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">A few years later, “retired ministers” came up in
Thimphu’s social conversation. It was after a sweeping change of the Cabinet,
time of a generational shift in the nation’s top leaders. Joining the
discussion about the government that listens to the voice of the common people,
I began to tell the tale of my maiden visit without revealing that Minister’s
name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Having overheard the conversation, Her Majesty the Queen
Ashi Dorji Wangmo turned to admonish me, laughing, “There is no need to hide
anything, Mieko. You mean there-is-no-poverty-in-Bhutan Minister?” My own angry
words of that time came straight out from the Queen. “What we see from our car
is not Bhutan. We must see for ourselves, with our own two legs!” I was
floored.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">When raising her children began to absorb less time, the
Queen decided “now was the time” to travel remote parts of the country, and
that meant on foot. It was a journey for the physically fit, and the Queen did
not wish for a life without an intimate knowledge of her motherland.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Indeed, trekking Bhutan’s mountains is hard beyond
imagination. The border with India is tropical jungle at around 200m above sea
level. The one with China-Tibet is the Great Himalayas soaring high in the sky
at about 7000m. In between, torrential rivers drill through the landmass, of
mere 200km or so as the raven flies. This country in two-dimensional map is
just about the size of our Kyushu Island, but Bhutan in three dimensions should
never be called small.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">On top of the harsh terrain is a population density of
only 15 persons per square kilometer. Most of the approximately 670,000 people
are scattered far and wide, seeking mountainsides and glacier valleys where
plentiful sunlight hours can be had. To reach remote hamlets would take a week
or more, of very hard trekking from the nearest road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Shortly into the first journey, the Queen came across the
very people she sought – those trapped in the shackles called poverty. Orphans.
The elderly without family. The physically handicapped. Parents who cannot
afford school uniforms, and their children missing out on otherwise free
education. Socially handicapped citizens with harelips and cleft palates, more
frequent among the people of isolated communities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">To the Queen, they were “the vulnerable people” who
without assistance would be left behind, no matter how rich the country may
become. And they, in turn, became the source of the Queen’s passion to keep
walking. Gasping for air in the oxygen-poor highlands, meeting blood sucking
leeches on rain-soaked paths, and even struck by a serious case of altitude
sickness, the Queen did not stop walking. Sleeping out of doors whenever
necessary, she kept up her journey, on foot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Whenever the Queen found the “vulnerable people,” she
would arrange for adequate assistance, or make provisions for stipends as
needed. But, “the needs began to exceed my means,” laughs the Queen. With a
small fund at her personal disposal, she founded the Tarayana Foundation – on
an auspicious day, May 2003.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Tarayana is Kan-non Bosatsu (Merciful Bodhisattva) in our
own religious tradition. Just as in the core prayer we offer to Bosatsu, the
Foundation aims to save the vulnerable people with compassion, and thereby
contribute to building a happy nation. Scholarships for needy children.
Stipends or pensions for orphans, the elderly, or the disabled. Technical and
marketing training for traditional arts and crafts, creating valuable sources
of rural cash-income. Restorative surgery by medical volunteers from Bhutan and
abroad, on harelips, cleft palates, or abnormal scar tissues from burns and
animal attacks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Impressed by such work, European aid agencies have begun
funding specific projects. In addition to Bhutanese citizens’ donations,
personal contributions from Europe, Japan and US are on the rise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The Queen’s passion has inspired Bhutan’s younger
generation as well. The elite, many in the Civil Service, volunteer their time
on holidays and weekends, to the work of nation building that can go beyond
that of the Government.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The Foundation minimizes its operating costs, so that
nearly all donations go to the vulnerable people. Having seen numerous NGOs
around the world, I see Tarayana as the rare model of financial prudence in
spite of its short history and small size.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">High-quality work raises demand for its services,
however, and the Foundation is in a constant need of more funding. The Queen is
thinking strategically, and hopes to stabilize the fiscal condition by seeking
endowment contributions to boost the Foundation’s capital base.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">That is precisely what true aid should be – the most
meaningful method of donation to organizations performing excellently under a
strong top leadership. Yet, such seems to be in the realm of impossibility for
official donor agencies, as they remain preoccupied with inflexible
project-based aid. Regardless, it is the private sector after all, which has
the capacity and foresight to make capital endowments – based on the assessment
of recipients’ vision- values and performance, and on the condition of
sustained wholesome management.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Queen keeps walking even today. Tarayana is
Bodhisattva who transforms her appearance according to the needs of the very
people she aids. Devout Bhutanese citizens call their Queen “Walking Tarayana,”
and support the Foundation’s good work, offering whatever money they can spare
and giving their precious and passionate time.</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-40527166038902946512012-04-20T01:01:00.000-07:002012-04-20T01:08:56.317-07:00How Oxford dictionaries define Bhutan<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">I am a
regular user of online dictionaries, particularly Cambridge dictionaries at </span><a href="http://www.dictionary.cambridge.org/" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">www.dictionary.cambridge.org</a><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"> and Oxford dictionaries at </span><a href="http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">www.oxforddictionaries.com</a><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">. I learn the English language from
them every day. In my rare moments of pride, they have made me realise how
little my knowledge of English usage is. A few days ago, I was curious to know
how the Oxford dictionaries define our country, Bhutan. I was rudely surprised
to find this definition: <i>a small
independent kingdom on the south-eastern slopes of the Himalayas, a
protectorate of the Republic of India; population 691,100 (est. 2009);
languages, Dzongkha (official), Nepali; capital, Thimphu.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">I thought
this entry was not fair. So, I decided to immediately write a quick note to
them. This is what I wrote. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Dear Sir/Madam </span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I am a Bhutanese citizen and a regular user of your online dictionaries
at </span><a href="http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/" style="line-height: 115%;" target="_blank">www.oxforddictionaries.com</a><span style="line-height: 115%;">. This morning, I was surprised by
your definition of my country, Bhutan. You have defined Bhutan as "a small
independent kingdom on the south-eastern slopes of the Himalayas, a
protectorate of the Republic of India...". First, an "independent
kingdom" cannot be a protectorate of any country. Your own dictionary
defines the word protectorate as "a state that is controlled and protected
by another". Bhutan is not controlled and protected by another country. It
is a sovereign country with a constitution, an elected government, more than a
100 years old monarchy, a robust army, an independent judiciary, UN membership,
and so on. I will be grateful to you if you could kindly explain to me why you
decided to define Bhutan in this way. I am asking this question as a private
citizen. </span></span></i><br />
<i style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i><br />
<i style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Yours sincerely </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">And this is
their response to my email a day later.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i>Dear Needrup Zangpo</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i>Thank you for your email to Oxford Dictionaries and we are sorry if our
entry for Bhutan has caused any offence. We have re-examined this particular
entry and have removed the reference to 'a protectorate of India'. The
corrected entry will appear on the Oxford Dictionaries Online at the next
update to the website.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i>Best wishes</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i>Juliet Evans</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<a href="http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #444444;">www.oxforddictionaries.com</span></i></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<a href="http://www.oed.com/" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #444444;">www.oed.com</span></i></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Although they did not explain to me their editorial
decision on the entry, I am happy that they have re-examined the entry and
decided to remove the reference to Bhutan as a protectorate of India. I am also
happy with the promptness with which they replied to my email considering a
large number of queries, suggestions, comments and feedback they must be
handling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">For those who care to
read on<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Online Oxford and Cambridge dictionaries are the most comprehensive
and exhaustive dictionaries I have known. Oxford dictionaries, I have observed,
contain more root words and their meanings than Cambridge dictionaries. The
word castrate, for example, is more comprehensively defined in <a href="http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/castrate?q=castrate" target="_blank">Oxforddictionaries</a> than in <a href="http://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/british/castrate?q=castrate" target="_blank">Cambridge dictionaries</a>. But Cambridge dictionaries come
free with phonetics, audio pronunciation of each word and grammatical
information like parts of speech. By the way, I am using the free versions of
the dictionaries. The paid versions have a lot more to offer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dictionaries are a rich source of lessons on language and
grammar. For example, both Cambridge and Oxford dictionaries deal with definite
article ‘the’ better than most grammar books in the town. Online dictionaries
today come with a lot of free packages like English for learners, language games,
tips for clear writing as opposed to convoluted writing, and so on. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Online
dictionaries are gems in the world-wide mine of information and knowledge.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #1f497d;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-28796141076757807942012-04-15T09:02:00.000-07:002012-04-15T09:11:35.161-07:00A day in Phobjikha<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL52kaN7iW8ar_8Azxepa9HFSktaMmpbWJGzERvv7vT_gK-hs6ozgYUjO78gEiRzz8KyflH48h3EmP4H3dlBnQc50-yZTNLPmGih6ei1Fgcp6wsGz3ta5dWrh2NeKiiVYC07-i_tIYUppL/s1600/6913797392_3c015b9f42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL52kaN7iW8ar_8Azxepa9HFSktaMmpbWJGzERvv7vT_gK-hs6ozgYUjO78gEiRzz8KyflH48h3EmP4H3dlBnQc50-yZTNLPmGih6ei1Fgcp6wsGz3ta5dWrh2NeKiiVYC07-i_tIYUppL/s400/6913797392_3c015b9f42.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Phobjikha valley in Wangdue </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">It was a beautiful day, the day I
visited the famous Phobjikha valley in Wangdue a fortnight ago with some of my
colleagues. </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">Pelela was awash with rhododendron flowers in full bloom. If winter
makes this mountain pass between Wangdue and Trongsa treacherous, spring brings
glorious beauty to it. But in fact, the mountain is equally beautiful during
winter. I remember crossing it last December when it was under a thick blanket
of snow. Snow made the road dangerous for motorists, but it made the towering
mountain sparkle with beauty.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The resplendent beauty of the majestic
mountain, however, paled in comparison to the surreal magnificence of the
Phobjikha valley. At the height of spring, the valley was still grey. The vast grey
expanse stretched as far as eyes could see. The small stream that meandered its
way through the valley sparkled in the morning sun. Grazing cattle dotted its
marshy banks. From the far end of the valley, a lone crane called out loud and
clear before it took wing. No cow lowed. No herders bothered them. All was
quiet and peaceful until some wood cutters started their work on the fringes of
the valley. They sent the blaring sound of power chain saw across the peaceful
valley. It went on for hours on end harshly drowning the sounds of chirping
little birds that continuously fluttered across the valley floor.</span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The lone crane sent out another
ringing call and flew over to a different spot. By and by, the monks of Gangtey
Goenpa came strolling across the length of the valley and waded their way through
the marshy area. They tripped across by a small pond. A gentle breeze rippled
the surface of the pond, and on the gleaming surface floated a plastic Pepsi bottle.
Nearby, there lay a few feathers of the black-necked crane and near it some
more bottles. The modern junk food garbage had found its way even to the heart
of the vast valley. Waste can soon be a problem in that idyllic valley like in other
parts of the country. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At one corner of the valley, a Hummer
SUV made its way away from a tent. Near the tent, a plume of smoke curled up
into the still air. A tipper truck laden with logs groaned its way after the SUV.
A group of young monks, who were trying to put one another down in a game of
shot put, clambered onto the truck as it stopped </span></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">briefly</span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">. They precariously,
but happily, perched themselves on the logs as the truck wobbled into movement.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Towards the late afternoon, the sky
was overcast and it drizzled. The sound of power chain saw stopped. The
farmhouses sent up grey plumes of smoke as they burnt aromatic leaves to
sanctify the air. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-21189711021311814152012-04-13T03:06:00.000-07:002012-04-14T11:25:48.570-07:00More please – the stories of the silent majority<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: inherit;"><i>Bhutan Observer received this beautiful letter from Ms Meiko Nishimizu, </i><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><i>former World Bank Vice President for South Asia, in February 2009 in response to reporter Rabi C Dahal's story </i>Ungar Diary<i>. The story received the award for the Most Valuable Story (GNH story) in the second National Journalism Awards in 2010. I am reproducing this letter because it is so beautifully written with a lot of food for thought for us the Bhutanese. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mr. Rabi C Dahal,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Your <a href="http://www.bhutanobserver.bt/ungar-diary/" target="_blank">Ungar Diary</a> was a pure joy to read.
Yes, Ungar is Drukyul, not Thimphu or Paro. That is how the bulk of her people
live.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a joy because too many who roam the
corridor of power and money tend not to see what you saw. Yes, they are “from
villages” themselves. Of course, they “visit the rural areas.” But, one cannot
see what you saw, unless one lives that life of basic human hardship even for a
few nights.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Villagers of Ungar are fortunate. For too
many, solid roof overhead is a mere dream, CGI or otherwise. They are
invisible, and suffer in silence. Real life-experience like yours is the only
way to see the world through the eyes of the invisible people.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No wonder, a Thimphu highway, urban
“beautification” projects, domestic airports … Undoubtedly all necessary one
day. But, I question, “What’s the priority? Why now?” What’s the priority, when
all that money can make the simple dream of rural roads, electricity, or safe
drinking water of the silent majority now? Why now, when today’s urban bias in
public investments only end up accelerating the unnecessary rural-urban
migration?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a joy because I am convinced that
good journalism, like yours, is critical in changing that bias. In many
countries where politics has become a money-making business, I know good
journalists are the only remaining friends of the silent majority.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And, it was a pure joy, because that silent
majority will harbor instability, extremism, and even revolution, if gone
unattended for too long. These are the people who have nothing to lose.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Frustration of social, political, and
economic exclusion, handed down generation after generation, will ignite a
wrong fire in their belly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All it takes is one, just one, trigger for
them to scream “we’ve got nothing to lose!”. Today’s terrorism, in South Asia
and beyond, all started like that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, as I see it, poverty alleviation is not
a socio-economic cause. It is a national security issue, of the highest order.</span></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt;">May your leather jacket never lose “the
smell of smoke”! I, too, have one — a shawl in my case — which will never see a
wash. It is my most precious possession that has soaked up layers after layers
of that “smell of smoke”, from villages and slums of South Asia… A Hazara tribe
village in Afghanistan where my ama knows how to grow the world’s best grape
only if there was water, and my apa spends several days out in the wilderness
just to collect firewood. A Balochi tribe village near the border of Pakistan
and Iran, where my skinny sisters harvest water from an underground channel apa
tapped. A hamlet a stone’s throw away from Pakistan’s border with Afghanistan
and China, where women want to “come out of this darkness” to learn how to read
and write.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An untouchables’ village in Karnataka,
India, where my ama and my baby sister are slowly dying of kitchen smoke. A Sri
Lankan village, now swept away by that tidal wave, where my ama’s tears ran dry
having lost all her sons to the war with Tamil Tigers. A Bangladeshi village
afflicted by arsenic poison in drinking water, which politicians simply ignore.
A Nepali Lama tribe village just below the Tibetan Plateau, where my kin family
fears starvation in lean winter months, and my grandma told me “Kathmandu is
far away … they don’t care or know about us, and never come to see us once the
elections are over.” And in Bemji and Nabji villages of central Bhutan, where
my better endowed kin folks share what little they can with the invisible
people amongst them… I attach a couple of my writings on a similar topic.
Please accept them as a humble gift, from an ex-banker to a shining journalist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;">With fond respect,</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;">Mieko
Nishimizu</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;">Senior
Partner</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;">Think
Tank Sophia Bank</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;">Park
Forest</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;">Tokyo,
Japan</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 11pt;">www.sophiabank.co.jp</span></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-66078782097193665832012-04-10T07:33:00.000-07:002012-04-10T07:43:00.997-07:00Following the herd<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZ0Ja0WVbBaIoSFOPgByGjsBdcw04CWY15Ry8XdCUG-eRsedLLHGY9dZTW5_0ddn8NFd0BiwQB-L2D7xwzbdim9UpGQq1ybVY2N-WfwA-nOsSvReKGCbajo5hHY7G8I03KQzzfY-S0RkE/s1600/Cow_11_tnb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZ0Ja0WVbBaIoSFOPgByGjsBdcw04CWY15Ry8XdCUG-eRsedLLHGY9dZTW5_0ddn8NFd0BiwQB-L2D7xwzbdim9UpGQq1ybVY2N-WfwA-nOsSvReKGCbajo5hHY7G8I03KQzzfY-S0RkE/s320/Cow_11_tnb.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
the last two weeks, two of my old friends – civil servants both – came to meet
me in my office, at different times. I hadn’t met them in years. With both of
them, I ended up talking about our professions. One of them brought more
feedback on the Bhutanese media while the other updated me on the state of the
civil service. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The government
officials, my friend told me, fear the Bhutanese media for being misquoted.
They don’t want their division, department, ministry or sector to be reflected
in a negative light. They also fear the media when they are caught unprepared
because that’s when they are most vulnerable and are most likely to tell the
truth. He told me that younger and more educated civil servants are more open
towards the media and they discuss the issues the media carry more frequently.
The ‘bosses’, he said, are more likely to consider the media sort of a ‘problem
creator’. It’s a fresh perspective on the media. It comes from a remote
dzongkhag where my friend works. I think
his observation is generally true. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The
other friend brought me news about the civil service. After a few years in the
civil service, he is more confident about himself but less vocal about the
government system. He said now he was more mature and knew what to talk about
and what not to, particularly with the bosses. He said that if one wanted to
rise in the system, one should respect the well-established hierarchy and with
it opinions and ways of doing things according to the hierarchy. Which, he
explained to me, meant that the dzongda’s opinion or ways of doing things, for
example, always mattered more than a planning officer’s however more
professional or innovative the latter’s is.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That’s
what he meant by maturity. He said that the ‘lot of enthusiasm to do things
differently’ when he first joined the civil service is gone. “Initially I never
knew that I was exposing myself to a lot of risks,” he told me with a sense of
relief. “Now I know how to do things correctly.” That’s how things are done
‘correctly’. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We
hear this view from many young civil servants. Their frustration is obvious.
They are not able to find enough space to express themselves in speech and in
action. The best way to succeed in the civil service, they think, is not to
become a black sheep with newer, brighter ideas. That’s how some of the highly
motivated people choose to become like others. That’s how we might not be taking
the best advantage of talents, education and experience the civil service so
richly holds. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If young
civil servants can’t express themselves professionally, from one generation to
another, the way our civil servants do things will not change. And this will
not help the improvement of public service delivery. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-74022258106261667922012-03-30T23:28:00.000-07:002012-03-30T23:29:28.082-07:00The year's at the spring<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1AGUJk6qW5g5tqKOrqYPBB0MjKsUx0ctsfZvTQzOrLGjtqlymPjYeiOqKaIrKQM-csCEjbGbZW7TCMZfxBxshjyNwOIOn_ZpvOje6unEXc_JYfI5LoORaIfCa24LcxRQgOKQjN_bfMqrV/s1600/4481263478_c4a382f981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1AGUJk6qW5g5tqKOrqYPBB0MjKsUx0ctsfZvTQzOrLGjtqlymPjYeiOqKaIrKQM-csCEjbGbZW7TCMZfxBxshjyNwOIOn_ZpvOje6unEXc_JYfI5LoORaIfCa24LcxRQgOKQjN_bfMqrV/s320/4481263478_c4a382f981.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Peach blossoms in Thimphu</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Spring is the season of hope and rejuvenation. It’s the
time of the year when winter’s chill stings no more and the myriad birds sing.
They sing of profusion of blossoms, of rejuvenating nature, of blabbering
brooks and the whole new world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The spring season, I think, is nature’s lesson on
impermanence and rejuvenation. It is beautiful but short-lived, it dies but
comes again. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The refreshing sights of peach blossoms around Thimphu always
remind me of Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse Rinpoche’s film <i>Travellers and Magicians</i>. As the film ends, the monk tells the
dashing young civil servant, who separates from the beautiful girl he falls in loves with,
that peach blossoms are beautiful but their beauty is fleeting. They are
beautiful because they are fleeting. And in the same vein, they are fleeting
because they are beautiful. That seems to be the truth John Keats, that
fleeting beautiful soul, was referring to when he wrote “Beauty is truth, truth
beauty…” in his <i>Ode on a Grecian Urn</i>.
Had he lived longer, he would have written an ode to the beautiful spring
season. But, being a ‘beautiful’ human being that he was, he did not live long.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I do not intend to philosophize about the spring season. I
am so often moved by the beauty of the season that I try to find expression. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">One night last week, I tried to recollect some of the vivid
descriptions of the spring season and vaguely remembered these lines by Robert
Browning.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The year's at the spring</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And day's at the morn;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Morning's at seven;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The hillside's dew-pearled;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The lark's on the wing;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The snail's on the thorn;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God's in His heaven -</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">All's right with the world!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps these are the lines that could put the agitated
minds of the people at peace. It’s about hope and optimism in times of
degeneration. Our government seems to draw inspiration from these lines in the
face of Rupee crisis and other problems. However in Bhutan, the year may be at
spring, but the day is not certainly in the morning. The day may be in the
morning, but time is certainly not at seven.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Back to literature, I also tried to think of what
references Buddhist literature makes on the season of rejuvenation. But the
Buddhist literature is too vast for a little creature like me. So, I went to
meet Lopon Kunzang Thinley, a Dzongkha scholar who studied under Buddhist
luminaries like Lama Gyalwai Nyima. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Together, we picked up the book of Buddhist astrology (Datho)
for the year 2012. The second month of the Bhutanese calendar (spring season),
it says, is the season of marriage festivities. As the cuckoo sings from the
treetop, the young boys and girls are moved into celebrating the prime of their
time, the Datho says. It implies that spring is indeed the spring of
rejuvenation and regeneration. I was amazed by Lopon Kunzang Thinley’s
scholarship to decode the layers of meanings embedded in the terse Choekey
(classical Tibetan language) lines in the Datho.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then we flipped through the pages of Doedpai Tenchoe (a
Buddhist book of sexology) written by a Buddhist scholar called Amdo Gedun
Choephel. The book says that girls who ‘open the door of pema’ (meaning lose
their virginity) during the second month of the lunar calendar, which
corresponds with the spring season, will enjoy happiness, peace, prosperity and
wealth of children. They will also enjoy life-long love and affection from their husbands. In this context, spring is an auspicious season. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-74376404201223397202012-03-25T20:12:00.001-07:002012-03-25T22:34:00.034-07:00To handcuff or not to handcuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtmAqplimmw73MFg4S71WkbH3nycGz2Trl4nHuJ7Kd_kKsret5v5fwe7IHVVbmy3NNHDF3WurKJ6r9V3gawaw5ENvLVHmMBD7LEW4SZNt7kqVkuA052tcV0pJHbZTbTG0r8pSb3i3dzKW/s1600/handcuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtmAqplimmw73MFg4S71WkbH3nycGz2Trl4nHuJ7Kd_kKsret5v5fwe7IHVVbmy3NNHDF3WurKJ6r9V3gawaw5ENvLVHmMBD7LEW4SZNt7kqVkuA052tcV0pJHbZTbTG0r8pSb3i3dzKW/s320/handcuff.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(This article first
appeared in Kuensel in 2007 when <a href="http://www.kuenselonline.com/2011/?p=8268" target="_blank">chimis submitted in the National Assembly</a> that
the use of handcuff should be banned in Bhutan)</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The
debate is whether it is correct to use handcuffs, or, for that matter, fetter
someone in irons. The concern <i>chimis </i>submitted to the 86<sup>th</sup>
National Assembly was relevant, but half‐baked. They wanted the use of
handcuffs to stop altogether. They presumably looked at handcuffing only from
the humanitarian point of view, which is all but complete. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes,
handcuffing is inhuman and degrading. But when there are justifiable grounds
for use of handcuffs, it makes sense. The argument should, therefore, fall
somewhere between when it should be used and how. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To
fetter arrestees and detainees in irons is no exception to the Bhutanese
security system. Security personnel around the world use handcuffs and manacles
for various reasons. Primarily, handcuffs are used for security reasons.
Desperate arrestees or detainees can be up to anything. They can pose a physical
risk to security officials and people around. They can attempt escape, they can
attempt suicide, or, they can even display unhealthy scenes in public. It is in
the interest of both security officials and public that handcuffs are used. In
some countries, hardened criminals are handcuffed even in court. There are
stories of security officials being physically attacked by arrestees and
detainees to make their escape. How many of us have not heard of security
officials jailed for dereliction of duty just because a detainee under their watch
has escaped? Therefore, handcuffs.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But,
there is a darker side to the use of handcuffs. Handcuffs are also used to
intimidate, humiliate, taunt, and dehumanise. Human rights groups around the
world have criticised handcuffing individuals to intimidate and humiliate as
degrading and violating fundamental rights. They view it as an instrument of
torture before suspects are proven guilty. Every human being has the right to
be free from torture, cruel or inhuman and degrading treatment. S(he) also has
the right to be properly detained. S(he) has the right to presumption of
innocence before proven guilty. S(he) has the right to fundamental human
dignity. These rights form part of many international conventions on human
rights. Therefore, when viewed as an instrument of intimidation, humiliation,
or torture, handcuffing can be seen as an uncivilised practice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While
security personnel want handcuffing made mandatory, human rights activists see it
as a rule that violates many international conventions. If handcuffing is construed
as a rule, even harmless women and children can find themselves in shackles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here
is a fine line to tread. Handcuffs cannot be stopped altogether. Neither can it
be a mandatory rule. The use of handcuffs should be based on the degree of
crime, circumstance, and physical and mental condition of the arrestee or
detainee. The debate in the National Assembly should not stop with one side
giving in to the other. It should ideally give birth to strict procedural
guidelines specifying when and how the use of handcuffs is appropriate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In
January 6, 2007, in Kuensel story <i>Handcuffing: for safety</i>, a
spokesperson for the Royal Bhutan Police is quoted as saying, “The National
Assembly as the lawmaker is contradicting itself”. I think that the concern raised
by <i>chimis </i>should not be viewed narrowly. Our <i>chimis </i>were trying
to touch on some of the finer issues regarding handcuffing. And the concern is
very relevant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The RBP spokesperson is also quoted as saying, “If
they [people] fear humiliation, they should abide by the law”, which implies
that, if anybody does not abide by the law, s(he) is bound to be humiliated.
Here, we are not basically talking about abiding by the law of the land. All
citizens of the country know that they should abide by the law of the land. But
they are all human beings, after all, and human beings are bound to err. So the
starting point of the debate is, how are we treating our erring fellow human
beings? Let us not lose sight of the essence of the debate even as we share our
views.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-20748452254012492922012-03-24T19:13:00.002-07:002012-03-24T19:27:34.966-07:00From bongkharang to drugs – where are we moving?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9BNEAghttKNZKJFEERyVq8psncbJ-uXYt3VCKR38L3eo5cSeSwbXNx3U2w6m7CQP1ztOqr8_ApT_-ddil3MR0ryVZzl0ezoDts39uMYmBEzThC0V5wV1K-ixLUnnoiuTB5dfqFlg6PQP/s1600/5830798719_e62336a1d2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9BNEAghttKNZKJFEERyVq8psncbJ-uXYt3VCKR38L3eo5cSeSwbXNx3U2w6m7CQP1ztOqr8_ApT_-ddil3MR0ryVZzl0ezoDts39uMYmBEzThC0V5wV1K-ixLUnnoiuTB5dfqFlg6PQP/s320/5830798719_e62336a1d2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Picture: Bhutan Observer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: justify;">(I wrote this article to a
newspaper in 2006)</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Once upon a time, we ate <i>bongkharang</i> (dried wheat used as food
grains) in our schools. Teachers served us every meal. Those who served us more
bongkharang would become our favourite teachers, not those who taught better.
The teacher’s announcement of ‘second share’ would lead to a near-stampede in
the dining hall. In the mad rush, some younger pupils would get jostled to the
ground. Every Saturday, we would be led to a nearby stream in a ceremonial line
for ‘washing’. Every few months, our heads would be shaved clean. Everything
seemed ritualistic. It was during bongkharang time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In those days, teachers took care
of children more than parents, especially in the remote areas. Now, since
parents are more exposed and educated, teachers have a smaller role and
government no longer has to buy shaving blades and soaps for children. While we
might think that our children today are in more secure hands of their parents,
the instances of children going astray are more today than in those days. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In those days, Marijuana plants
grew aplenty on the campus, but we knew it only as a food for pigs. We
associated <i>nyozey</i> (intoxicating
substance) with alcohol only. Substance abuse was little known to us until we
got more exposed to the outside world.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Now, the <i>bongkharang</i> days are long gone. Our parents are better educated and
children, more exposed. Life is easier and travels are faster. New things are
more readily available and are within the reach of our income. With all the new
developments, undesirable trends have crept in. Even as we debate the perceived
declining quality of education, substance abuse among our school children is
increasing. Today, <i>nyozey</i> has taken
on many frightening new dimensions. This is why, there is a sense of insecurity
in the society if marijuana plants grow in abundance. And dendrite,
traditionally used as an adhesive, is sold with suspicion. Marijuana and
dendrite are, though, not as big a problem as other substances. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is a pity if the children of
the first generation of western-educated parents go so miserably astray. Is it
because of exposure? Is it because of lack of guidance? It is because of both
as well as because of many other reasons. Youth is the most vulnerable stage of
life. It is euphoric and volatile, innocent and credulous. Any positive or
negative influence will have a powerful and lasting impact on youth. Therefore,
positive influence, guidance, and support are crucial. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We know how much we love our
children. But we do not know whether we are as caring as we are loving. Some
children get too much love that they are pampered and spoilt while others who
do not get any lose the sense of direction. If every parent took responsibility
for his or her own children’s overall well-being, there would be no need for
the government to build rehabilitation centres or carry out advocacy campaigns.
What could our parents be doing when our children spend hours in marijuana bushes?
And what could they be doing when some of the children die due to drug
overdose? Our parents can, though, do only their part. Society as a whole has a
bigger role to play. The death of an 18-year-old boy in Phuentsholing a few
days back takes the number of drug overdose deaths in the town alone to five
this year. What about drug-related deaths in other 19 dzongkhags? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
If we generalise the Phuentsholing
case and deduce the per capita drug-related affliction in a small population
like ours, it would come to a frightening figure! And that on top of the alarming
rate of increase in HIV/Aids infection, prostitution, abortion, domestic
violence, murder, choeten robbery, break-ins, vehicle accidents, and a host of
other social problems. Our government is doing all it can to prevent, or at
least curb, these social evils. But much more is there to be done. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
For example, drug-related
problems are there not only in Phuentsholing. They are as rampant in our
interior dzongkhags like Bumthang and Mongar. How do the banned substances
travel through many security check posts? It is difficult to understand why
security check posts across the country routinely check the public transport
buses and not private vehicles. It seems absurd that humble passengers of
public transport buses are thoroughly frisked and their loads, comprising mostly
smelly cheese or meat, are meticulously inspected. It is not to say that buses
should not be put under rigorous inspections, but that private cars should not
be let through. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As the national graduate
orientation is going on, BBS TV has caught up with some of our graduates and
let us know some of their views and dreams. But, even as some of them display a
sense of maturity in their views and opinions, some of them have been caught
abusing drugs. Nothing can be more degenerating than this. Our graduates are
the cream of our youth, and if there is any promise the nation can look forward
to fulfilling, it should be them. If they lose the sense of direction, our hope
can be betrayed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is not long since our schools
stopped getting <i>bongkharang</i> donated
by other countries through the UN. We are just beginning to sustain ourselves
on our own <i>kharang</i> (ground maize
grains). It is a big challenge, particularly if our youth are not strong in
mind and body.</div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-86286536365754889802012-03-24T00:02:00.001-07:002012-03-24T05:21:10.348-07:00The mock election dilemma<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzpsiXEqWwJ8Vo0jQ0ahCOXZ4jK3L4Qrt2G2pvPmDV5XYyNcHNlk9bOpQzkaoAQrFdMlT6NqcQZYyGgpjpDQ27KACLHzW0DR3tMMLjXoYaO8ZNdVWxhsXlbcouqtmSFnZGQN7cxhQlS4v/s1600/Mock+election+campaign+in+NIE,+Paro.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzpsiXEqWwJ8Vo0jQ0ahCOXZ4jK3L4Qrt2G2pvPmDV5XYyNcHNlk9bOpQzkaoAQrFdMlT6NqcQZYyGgpjpDQ27KACLHzW0DR3tMMLjXoYaO8ZNdVWxhsXlbcouqtmSFnZGQN7cxhQlS4v/s320/Mock+election+campaign+in+NIE,+Paro.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;">A mock election campaign being staged in Paro College of Education</b> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(As the second parliamentary elections draw near, I thought we
might like to look back at how Bhutan prepared for the first parliamentary
elections. I wrote this article in March 2008 when mock elections were held )</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The primary round of nation‐wide parliamentary mock
election is over and results are declared. The two winning parties, Druk Yellow
Party and Druk Red Party, will contest in the general elections in which votes
will be cast for candidates, not parties. The voter turnout of close to 51% is
encouraging, but not impressive. It was reported that elections went smoothly
despite some hiccups in some constituencies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The success of any mock election, though, does not
rest with smooth voting and relaying of results. The important considerations
should be how our people voted and how much they understood the concept of
voting beyond the mechanical use of electronic voting machine. The purpose of
mock elections should go beyond sensitizing our people to the use of EVM and
voting procedures. The mock elections should inform our people of the basic
concepts of democracy like analysis of political agendas, choice of leadership,
exercise of their rights and, above all, the significance of going to the
polls.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The extensive media coverage of the elections revealed
that some of our people in the remoter parts of the kingdom did not understand
what the mock election was all about. And it does not come as a surprise given
the fact that even many of the so‐called educated lot do not understand
democracy beyond some received notions like elections, campaigns, protests and power.</span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It is commendable that BBS covered live the
preparations for and happenings of the mock elections across the country. But
the live broadcasts were more of a show than substance. The questions to the
dzongdas of 20 dzongkhags rarely went beyond enquiries into unimportant
statistical details like the number of polling stations and polling booths. One
same question that was asked to all the dzongdas was: <i>How is the preparation
for the mock elections going on in your dzongkhag? </i>And, as one would
expect, the answer from all the dzongdas, without exception, was: <i>Very well!
</i>The next question that was routinely asked was: <i>How many polling
stations and polling booths are there in your dzongkhag? </i>I wonder why that
question was too important to ignore. There were some sensible questions asked,
though. One of them was: <i>How do our people understand the mock elections? </i>The
response from all the dzongdas, except for Pemagatshel dzongda, was: <i>People
have been adequately educated on democracy and they fully understand what the
mock elections are</i>. This unequivocal response from dzongdas is hard to
believe given a lot of evident lack of understanding of democracy among our
rural population and given the fact that democracy can be more practically
learnt than taught. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Also participating in the live broadcast were senior
officials from the Election Commission of Bhutan. While their views regarding
electoral procedures were educative, some of their responses to the questions
of the general public seemed arbitrary. Some of the members of public, for
instance, called in to express their doubt that some of our people did not
understand what the mock elections meant and that it would be a big challenge.
But the view of the Election Commission officials was that the public had been
thoroughly informed and educated on democracy that there should not be anybody
who did not understand the mock elections. That view is too far‐fetched to
believe and it would be a bottle‐neck to further educating our public. Despite
the fact that the Election Commission has vigorously tried to educate public on
electoral procedures and democracy as a whole, it is too soon to declare that
our people are fully democratically educated. While the official view is that
the Election Commission of Bhutan has done all it can to inform and educate
public and, therefore, it is not correct to say that many of our people are
still ignorant of the unfolding events, we must face the reality. The reality
is that many of our people are still ignorant of democratic changes taking
place in the country. This information is not far to seek. Bhutan is a small
country with close‐knit communities. And electoral officers, polling officers,
returning officers, observers are all our friends, colleagues, relatives, acquaintances.
They are the ones staring real situations in the face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The fact that our people lacked democratic education
is amply demonstrated by how they voted in the mock elections. It is reported
that Druk Yellow party won a landslide victory chiefly because our people
associated yellow colour with His Majesty’s scarf. Agendas were not a concern
for many. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-85275772108700650942012-03-22T22:13:00.000-07:002012-03-24T23:50:05.761-07:00Little Buddhas under threat<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhXDOrZ4eTlCiLaS1QAvmpsH1kMrDpGv5lBMyOBM5ia3DfslBx3NbNGvsDCSCLZr4kvHFZOhREC_6Un3R7Zcw9kRT0N4bIgabEZhOgNOMytTYWvGFrzMWLy86xDMVYj3ZnSSdQ2iWNoyj/s1600/6010775116_b4019e0e37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhXDOrZ4eTlCiLaS1QAvmpsH1kMrDpGv5lBMyOBM5ia3DfslBx3NbNGvsDCSCLZr4kvHFZOhREC_6Un3R7Zcw9kRT0N4bIgabEZhOgNOMytTYWvGFrzMWLy86xDMVYj3ZnSSdQ2iWNoyj/s320/6010775116_b4019e0e37.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Picture: Bhutan Observer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">(This
article was first published in Bhutan Observer in 2007)</span><br />
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">I was in Class V when the first –
and the oldest – <i>choeten</i> in my
village lost its <i>nangten </i>(relics).
Then, the people in my village did not know what it was. Was it vandalism?
Theft? Robbery? Sacrilege? It was simply beyond their knowledge and
imagination. The police were, however, immediately alerted. Two uniformed men
rushed to the site, looked into the small empty hole in the <i>choeten</i> and left. Barely a year later,
another <i>choeten</i> in the village was robbed
of its <i>nangten</i>. Once again, everybody
looked into the empty hole in the <i>choeten</i>
and went back home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Within a few years, my village
became poorer by a few of its treasured <i>choetens</i>.
Although the holes in the desecrated <i>choetens</i>
were routinely plugged by village masons, there was nothing the villagers could
do. And, indeed, there was nothing the government could do.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">When more <i>choetens</i> lost their <i>nangten</i>,
the government resorted to the only preventive measure it could think of.
Consequently, village <i>chipoens</i> (now
called tshogpa) spent sleepless nights guarding <i>choetens</i> in their localities. It helped. And that eased the initial
sense of anxiety and wariness resulting in the relaxation of security. After a
few years, the <i>choetens</i> were
completely left on their own. The <i>nangten</i>
hunters re‐emerged.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">By that time, the desecration of <i>choetens</i> did not touch the people as
much as it had. Their duty was now only to report the case to the government,
and, of course, fill up the empty hole. The government did investigate the case
and imprisoned some perpetrators for life, but most of the time, the whole
ritual was all about looking into the empty hole and filling it up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, after more than fifteen
years, we hear the same story. Every year, more <i>choetens</i> lose their <i>nangten</i>,
and we keep updating the list. The latest news is from Pemagatshel – the
desecration of an old <i>choeten</i> in Khar
Gewog. But that is not all. The <i>dzongkhag</i>
has lost the <i>nangten</i> of 17 <i>choetens</i> in the past one year –
seventeen choetens in a year. It is not just in Pemagatshel Dzongkhag. The
unfortunate malice plagues the other 19 <i>dzongkhags</i>
too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">However, <i>choeten</i> robbery in Bhutan seems to be the same old news now that it
barely weighs heavily on our national conscience. Seventeen <i>choetens</i> in a year is alright, says a
religious friend of mine when I share the Pemagatshel news with him. Alright?
More than a <i>choeten</i> a month, and
alright? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">In fact, less important issues
have occupied our people more than the robbery of our <i>choetens</i> over the past several years. The National Assembly did
seriously deliberate on it once. But the deliberation did not result in any
wise decisions to tackle the menace except confining the perpetrators to life
imprisonment. That is only correct, but when the evil cannot be stopped, or
even curbed, the whole issue calls for more concrete actions. And what action
has our government taken? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Taking actions is, however, one
thing, and talking the issue is quite another. Since when did the government
stop talking about <i>choeten</i> robbery?
We continue to talk about our cultural heritage and spiritual values. But if
what constitute our cultural heritage and spiritual values are not the subject
of our talk, what are we actually talking about? If we forget talking about an
issue, there is no question of taking action. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">However, from a different
perspective, one might argue that we have done enough. We have filled up the
holes and even plastered with cement desecrated <i>choetens</i>. But, even though the mended <i>choetens</i> may look better, they are not as good as the original ones.
So, essentially, the actions we are taking at the moment are not worth it. They
are, in fact, a symptom of our love of the body and disregard for the soul. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">In short, the issue is about what
we are thinking as much as what we are doing. We should remember that we are
not just talking about the loss of the <i>nangten</i>
of our <i>choetens</i>, but the loss of our
national <i>nangten</i>. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-83087347681165473232012-03-20T08:45:00.001-07:002012-03-24T04:35:53.308-07:00Ta She Gha Chha: A book review<span style="text-align: justify;">(This book review was first published
in </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Rabsel: The CERD Educational Journal </i><span style="text-align: justify;">in
2005)</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5VxNiIYqCHa9d5C4IYNUKn1eR2eRUUrkUthf2T8VzmzZx2BRV3oWc9ubxl6-zu3NSUlejmtaIcd3gAl71lLGEG8pDxmxaQTCp8YqX_Odrjq0mqqb5mBN_p3m0uXnF3Bwbquqr9f6EIv6/s1600/Book+review+pics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5VxNiIYqCHa9d5C4IYNUKn1eR2eRUUrkUthf2T8VzmzZx2BRV3oWc9ubxl6-zu3NSUlejmtaIcd3gAl71lLGEG8pDxmxaQTCp8YqX_Odrjq0mqqb5mBN_p3m0uXnF3Bwbquqr9f6EIv6/s320/Book+review+pics.jpg" width="219" /></a></div>
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Long time ago, while meditating in a
cave in the mountains, the great Tibetan saint Jetsun Milarepa wanted to move
to another cave on a particular day. He knew that the day was inauspicious to
undertake the journey. But he thought that for a yogi like him, who had moved beyond
the influence of the ordinary, there was no such thing as auspicious or
inauspicious. So he left his cave for the other one with his prized possession,
a clay pot. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The belief could not influence Jetsun
Milarepa’s decision. But he, nonetheless, believed in the inauspiciousness of
the day. Likewise, we have numerous beliefs which influence and guide our
behaviour and conduct, or at least our thinking. This is what Ms Karma Pedey’s
154‐page book <i>Ta She Gha Chha: The Broken Saddle and other Popular Bhutanese Beliefs, </i>the
latest book by a Bhutanese author, is all about. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<i>Ta She Gha
Chha</i>. The title of the book itself could be an enduring metaphor for
the fundamental characteristic of popular Bhutanese beliefs – supernatural
elements taking the centre stage in the human drama of trials and tribulations,
sins and retribution, death and disaster. It could also be a metaphor for the
established link between human world and the world beyond. In the context of
popular beliefs, the moment something happens to us, we attribute the cause of
it to something, and that is often supernatural and otherworldly.<br />
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>Ta She Gha
Chha </i>is a comprehensive documentation of popular beliefs from across
Bhutan. It contains over 400 beliefs, the logic and reasoning behind some of
which are elucidated. Some of the beliefs which have social, spiritual, or
environmental significance are explained with modern reasoning. But the author
does not make it a point to give modern reasoning to all the beliefs for she
believes that “attempting to decipher and unravel [their] mysteriously
illogical significance with modern reasoning will smother the sensational
experience that popular belief[s] bestow upon [their] believers.” The logic,
and sometimes reasoning, behind some of the beliefs is, however, self‐evident. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The book contains all kinds of beliefs
– logical and illogical, senseless and sensible. This is what was intended. The
author wanted to record what Bhutanese believe, whatever they are, not the
sense their beliefs make or the sensible beliefs. There is no distinction made
between religious and secular beliefs. While one cannot draw a clear‐cut line
between them, at a closer look at the beliefs, most of them originated in or
stemmed from Buddhist beliefs. Some of the beliefs like what Milarepa held have
Buddhist astrological reasoning behind them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Ms Karma Pedey’s book is not just an
anthology of popular Bhutanese beliefs. It briefly defines and examines their
significance and role in the human society. It also takes a brief look at some of
the popular beliefs in different cultures around the world and puts the
Bhutanese beliefs into a broader context. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In his forward to the book, Mr T S
Powdyel, Director of Centre for Educational Research and Development, writes
that beliefs “are an affirmation of the intimation and presences of powers that
lie beyond us and inform our thoughts and behaviour.” Beliefs, he says “are a
window to the inner life of a community and a society.” Ms Karma Pedey writes
in her introduction that a belief crosses the realm of rationality and reasons”
but believes, though, that it “can still be very “alluring amidst the growing
fascination of modernity.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Before dwelling on the main subject,
the reader is given an insight into how the Bhutanese beliefs work on Sir James
Frazer’s law of similarity and law of contact. The author also briefly mentions
that the popular beliefs could be grouped under different branches of beliefs
like <i>ongpa, takpa, namtog, tendi zam, and tendi nyem, </i>but the groupings
in the book are not based on them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the Bhutanese society, if you are
sick, you are possibly harmed by an evil spirit, which is often the case. But
take heed! Do not consult a doctor – your health will deteriorate if you do so.
Propitiate the spirit that harms you, and you are well! Do you wish to have a
stable life? Go buy a goat and raise it, and you are no more a rolling stone! <o:p></o:p></div>
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For the Bhutanese, an animal or an
insect can be good as well as bad. The cat is considered a gem. But the noise
of two cats (two gems) fighting in the night in your house augurs disputes and
feuds in the family. A single bee hovering around your head brings you good
news from your loved ones, but a swarm of bees settling on your house does not
bring you a lot of good news! A rat that bites the upper part of your body
(which, of course, is more vulnerable) in your sleep is a kind rat for it bodes
<i>something </i>good for you, and the one that nibbles the lower part of your
body is an evil one. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If your wife has a thick moustache, do
not despair! Why? You might like to ask. But if she grinds her teeth in her
sleep, you certainly have a reason to despair! Do you have a mole on your face?
If you have one, you might have to find out where it is exactly located to find
out your fortune. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If you are an expectant mother who
wants to know the number of children you will bear, prepare a gold ring and a
long strand of hair to carry out the trick to find out. Next, you might like to
learn to do a prenatal study of the sex of your child. There is no need of an
obstetrician. Observe the changes happening to your own body, and you will find
yourself planning for a girl or a boy! But in the meanwhile, be faithful to
your spouse for your infidelity will deform your child. And also mind you, do
not blow out the birthday candles of your child. It means blowing off luck. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If you are unmarried and would like to
know who your future spouse will be, you have to count a <i>certain number </i>of
stars for <i>certain number </i>of days at the same time and go to sleep. The
person that you see in your dream is your future spouse! However, if you do not
love the person who you dreamt of and want to go for the one you love, you have
a way out! Simply get a strand of hair of the one you love and prepare a magic
potion out of it for yourself. But how? Burn the hair... and go on. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the Bhutanese beliefs, dreams are
prophetic informers for you. If you dream of cow‐dung, human excreta, and dead
bodies, do not interpret them negatively. Expect good luck and financial gains.
But if you dream about feasting, butter, or monks, brace yourself for death and
disaster. <o:p></o:p></div>
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A stolen flower blooms better than the
one acquired otherwise. But beware, if you steal something, you will be
possessed by <i>ah lha</i>, the deity of thieves. And your kleptomaniac
tendencies cannot be got rid of. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Make sure you do not start a journey
on the day of <i>ta she gha chha, </i>the day on which, if you travel with a
saddled horse, your horse will die and the saddle will be broken. Jetsun
Milarepa moved to another cave on such a day, and his horse and saddle, in
fact, his everything – the clay pot – was broken. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But even if you are at home, be
careful of breaking a glass in your hands, particularly if you have a limited
number of glasses. That spells ill omen and you have to break another
deliberately. <o:p></o:p></div>
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On simple analysis, the popular
Bhutanese beliefs are a mix of superstitions and Buddhist and Bon beliefs. As
Bhutan is a highly spiritual country, beliefs seem to have been invented and fostered
to teach and instruct, coax and discipline. Most of the beliefs have a moral,
spiritual, or a social significance. <o:p></o:p></div>
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For instance, the eyes of a person who
defecates on pathways, it is believed, will be affected by smoke. Apparently,
there is no connection between defecating on pathways and smoke affecting one’s
eyes, but it teaches that it is not morally and ethically good to defecate on
pathways. Likewise, does slamming a door shut displease the spirit of the door
or human beings? Or does dirtying a lake harm the spirit of the lake or
ourselves? And why should a liar become a bear’s victim, logically speaking? <o:p></o:p></div>
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While beliefs that concern
auspiciousness or evilness of days, months and years, and the temperament of a
person being determined by the time and circumstances of his or her birth are
mostly based on Buddhist astrological calculations, those concerning spirits
and natural elements are mostly based on Bon beliefs like shamanism and nature
worship. It seems that Buddhist or Bon concepts which are of significance in
day to day life have become popular beliefs. Some of the beliefs which
originated in religion have become so popular that over time they have lost their
religious context and significance. <i>Ta she gha chha </i>is a case in point. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Ta She Gha
Chha</i>, which draws on the rich reservoir of beliefs in the older
Bhutanese, also contains some of the author’s own and her family’s and friends’
experiences concerning popular Bhutanese beliefs, adding a personal touch to
the book. It should make a fascinating reading to all. But, take heed! If you
cannot finish reading the book at a sitting, do not leave it open for the devil
will complete it and grasp its fascinating content. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the meanwhile, if you are planning
to travel somewhere, see if the evil day that broke Jetsun Milarepa’s pot
affects you too. If you are going to remain home, observe your cat and the
hearth fire. If your cat wipes its face with its paws and if the fire crackles
and sparks go flying, expect a guest. And remember, when the guest is come, do
not let a hot tempered member of your family prepare <i>emadatsi </i>for him or
her because the curry will be excessively... (Well, what do you expect?). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Written in simple English with a fine
literary touch, which at times tends to be informal and communicative, <i>Ta
She Gha Chha </i>will greatly appeal to all people who have a keen interest in and
sense of folk culture. The book can also appeal to critical, sceptical and cold
modern minds by virtue of its quaint and eccentric contents.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-72514003438044591632012-03-19T08:21:00.000-07:002012-03-24T04:35:39.067-07:00Sherubtse in retrospect and prospect<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
(This essay won the Best Essay
award in a college-level essay writing competition on the theme ‘Sherubtse in
retrospect and prospect’ in the year 2002) </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQz0Ey324sSyXmC1gkdf28AWEUD8InenM7yGuxymaSPZ8vmm8axvk0WCGDg5p1WR-hIpluSocb_mybGJBt1aisLzD144MPJXjbSjuWLVYPI9SZwMUaUhw5ulJBy8r2fNvFBJ8dDMpEPvr/s1600/3048750662_7f412fb430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQz0Ey324sSyXmC1gkdf28AWEUD8InenM7yGuxymaSPZ8vmm8axvk0WCGDg5p1WR-hIpluSocb_mybGJBt1aisLzD144MPJXjbSjuWLVYPI9SZwMUaUhw5ulJBy8r2fNvFBJ8dDMpEPvr/s320/3048750662_7f412fb430.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Sherubtse College</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://www.sherubtse.edu.bt/">Sherubtse</a>, the peak of learning,
as the name suggests, is the highest institute of learning in the kingdom of
Bhutan. Located away from the hustle and bustle of town, Sherubtse offers a
tranquil atmosphere conducive to serious pursuit of knowledge. A symbol of the
country’s dreams and aspirations, hopes and expectations, the name of the
institution is synonymous with the country’s quest for a ‘place in the sun’.
Home to some of the finest scholars and educators from far and near, Sherubtse
lives out the best that is thought and valued in our system. Sherubtse
represents the country’s intellectual evolution and march forward toward an
educated and civilized society. She has indeed travelled a long journey towards
realizing the best human potentials and excellence carrying forward the noble
vision of her wise founding forefathers. Decades have rolled by laden with the
fruits of Sherubtse’s noble deeds. Still, this ‘teeming womb’ of dreams sublime
and deeds noble marks each day with a worthy thought or a deed. This small
institution is great not just because it has done exceptional deeds but
essentially because it has dared to dream big. It is due to her ability to
dream big dreams with faith and determination that she has been able to
manipulate all impediments and negotiate herself to the present position of
glory.<br />
<a name='more'></a> </div>
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Three decades and six years ago,
when the kingdom known to its people as the last Shangri-La was just beginning
to shed off the cocoon of self-imposed isolation, a foundation for a school was
laid. Two years later, on May 26, 1968, when the visionary monarch of the kingdom
affectionately known to his subjects as the Father of Modern Bhutan formally
inaugurated the school, it came to be known as Sherubtse Public School. Father
William Mackey, then 53, was sworn in as the first principal of the school. A
man with tremendous knowledge, wisdom and appreciation for the essence of
Buddhism, Father Mackey was deeply empathetic to the Bhutanese culture and way
of life. He knew what its religious culture meant for Bhutan. He also knew what
the urgent need of the country was then. The Bhutan of that time needed such a
man and she got one. It was a ‘Tryst with Destiny’. ‘A dream institute of a
dream country’ was thus started with just one hundred students and a few Jesuit
teachers.</div>
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Sherubtse was then ‘an infant’
entrusted with a heavy responsibility towards a country in transition. Late King,
His Majesty Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, wanted his people to come out of their
age-old, time-honoured way of life and join the mainstream of educational and
technological development. Though immature and frail in her physical capacity,
Sherubtse always held her head high in an indomitable spirit. Father Mackey
found it extremely difficult to dissuade his pupils from using sticks and
stones in the toilets. When a Mahindra jeep first came to Trashigang, Sherubtse
students are said to have called it an abominable monster. How daunting could
have been the task of teaching modern education to such students and bring them
on par with the students in other countries! </div>
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Yet, with His Majesty’s divine
inspiration, unerring wisdom, and farsightedness Sherubtse Public School was
able to negotiate all manner of obstacles. Today, we can clearly visualize our
beloved late king sitting back with a deep satisfaction writ large on his brow
as he sees some of the students of that time serving ‘his modern Bhutan’ in
various capacities with utmost loyalty and dedication. Today, we can see him
looking straight at us from the past and beckoning us to proceed farther in the
same direction in the same spirit that he lent to Sherubtse. Had our
forefathers just built the physical structure of the institution without
lending it a soul, Sherubtse would have been – in Mr TS Powdyel’s words – ‘brick
and mortar, sand and cement, soil and structure’. But, since the inception
Sherubtse has had a soul. </div>
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Four years after the
establishment of Sherubtse Public School, the founding father, the third Druk
Gyalpo, passed away to the profound dismay of the nation. His ‘dream’, though,
did not cease to grow for his son – and our beloved king Jigme Singye Wangchuck
– succeeded him. In 1976, Sherubtse Public School was upgraded to a junior
college with pre-university courses in science. Reverend Father Leclaire became
the next principal in the same year. His tenure saw many significant changes
and progressive developments taking place at the institute. In 1978, when the
first batch of students sat for ISC examinations, Arts and Commerce courses
were added to Sherubtse’s academic curriculum. In July 1983, Sherubtse became
an affiliated college of Delhi University and enrolled its first batch of
undergraduate students. This marked Sherubtse’s move towards higher education.
On September 9, 1984, Rev. Father Leclaire and Sis. Monica formed a voluntary
group of college students called Social Service Unit (SSU). With its motto
‘Love through service’, SSU aimed at helping the poor and ignorant in and
around the Kanglung locality. The unit, which is very active today, has since
then been totally committed to uplifting the destitute. SSU’s philanthropic
works range from the construction of houses and provision of safe-drinking
water to nearby villages to provision of food and medical help to the needy. It
also imparts non-formal education to the villagers and sponsors the education
of poor children. These helps develop a sense of goodwill, help and
selflessness in the students. </div>
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Sherubtse has thus come down the line sharing
with the larger community what she has and what she knows. </div>
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The year 1986 was yet another
milestone in the history of Sherubtse. In that year, thirty young graduates
passed out from Sherubtse College with degrees in Arts, Commerce, and Science.
Their joining the official rank of civil service marked the fulfillment of a
part of the big dream. Till date, eight convocations have been held and sixteen
batches of students have graduated from Sherubtse College. </div>
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In 1989, when Dasho Zangley
Drukpa took over as the first Bhutanese principal of the college, Sherubtse was
already smoothly heading towards its motto ‘Education for Excellence’. On May
28 of the same year, he introduced the Forum for International and National
Awareness (FINA), which is the most vibrant forum at Sherubtse today. To ensure
that the college live up to one of its main missions – to practise, preserve
and promote national culture and tradition – Dzongkha Honours programme and the
History of Bhutan as a subsidiary subject were introduced in 1996 and 1997
respectively. This move gave impetus to many cultural activities at the
college. Sherubtse Cultural Club plays a vital role in learning, practising,
and preserving various forms of mask dances and popular traditional folk dances
like Wangzhey, Nubzhey, and Chhoezhey. Besides all these, religious fervour ha
always been very strong at Sherubtse. Since our culture – the symbol of our sovereignty
and integrity – is deeply rooted in our religion we believe that it is
important for us to practise and uphold our religion not just for the sake of
piety, but also as a moral, social and political obligation. </div>
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With the dawn of each new year,
Sherubtse has bettered itself considerably. Sherubtse College saw a major
development during Mr Pema Thinley’s tenure as the fourth principal of
Sherubtse College. In order to adapt the Bhutanese society to the changing
global scenario and to keep ourselves abreast of time, Sherubtse College
introduced Bachelor of Information Technology (BIT) in 1999. With the same
motive, the internet facilities were also made available at the college in the
mid of 2001. Currently, every Sherubtsean has an easy access to a wide range of
information and knowledge at the national and international level. In this way,
Sherubtse College has successfully blended spiritualism and technology. We at
Sherubtse neither languish in our own culture nor venture too far onto the
unknown sea. We find a golden mean and make calculated moves. </div>
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Sherubtse today endeavours to
progress within what it thinks advisable limit. In so doing, Gross National
Happiness, the concept propounded by our beloved king, His Majesty Jigme Singye
Wangchuck, receives the highest priority at Sherubtse. Gross National Happiness
is a concept that seeks to strike a balance between material prosperity and
emotional and spiritual well-being. It emphasizes the preservation of culture
and environment. After having understood the philosophy of Gross National
Happiness, if we analyse the co-curricular and extra-curricular activities that
are vigorously pursued at Sherubtse, one will find that every activity conforms
with GNH and can go a long way in making it a reality in not so distant future.
Besides Sheruubtse Cultural Club’s organizing various cultural activities to
effect a sense of affinity towards our culture, FINA organizes competitions
among students such as Inter-hostel music competition, inter-hostel Dzongkha
skit competition, Dzongkha debate competition and so forth. Singye Karm,
Sherubtse Nature Club, provides a vibrant platform for the students to work for
the environmental preservation and to create environmental awareness among the
students and the community at large. Apart from the above ones, there are many
other clubs, which form a part of our larger endeavour to fulfill the national
priorities. Involving ourselves in these activity-laden clubs help students at
Sherubtse develop a sense of discipline, duty, and dedication to the promotion
of causes of national importance, creating appropriate ethos for preservation
and development of cultural and spiritual values and national cohesion. Thus
well-rounded personality and leadership quality are moulded at Sherubtse. Therefore,
in our country’s move towards optimizing peace, prosperity, and happiness,
Sherubtse plays an important part. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Behind the achievements and glory
of Sherubtse there have, however, always been royal support and inspiration.
The regular visits by His Majesty the King, Their Majesties the Queens,
ministers, and high ranking officials stand as a shining testimony of their
concern for, trust in, and expectation from Sherubtse. Each time one of them
visits the college, Sherubtse College betters itself by considerable measure in
terms of thought and deed for his or her visit reactivates our consistent urge
for betterment. Apart from condescending to be the Honourary President of
Sherubtse College, Her Majesty Ashi Dorji Wangmo Wangchuck initiated and instituted
the President’s Award for academic excellence. This indeed epitomizes the royal
patronage that Sherubtse enjoys. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Through tireless striving,
Sherubtse has seen equal development in the sphere of sports as in academic and
other fields. Today, Sherubtse College has adequate facilities for football,
volleyball, basketball, lawn tennis, table tennis, khuru, and archery. A
variety of body building equipment are also available at the easy disposal of
everyone. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Sherubtse has come a long way
fulfilling not just its academic mission but also moral, social, and national
missions. It has faced challenges and overcome them. It has shone with glory.
It has become a model for others to look up to and emulate. But, there is no
room for complacency. Sherubtse has yet another long way to go, another grave
challenge to face, another mission to fulfill. Sherubtse will remain a dream.
His Majesty, our beloved king, in his message to the college on the occasion of
Sherubtse’s silver jubilee said, ‘…the Royal Government is fully committed to
making Sherubtse College into one of the best institutes of higher studies in
South Asia….’ His Majesty’s dream expressed in the above statement is
Sherubtse’s dream, Sherubtse’s challenge. In the same address, His Majesty
said, ‘The destiny of our country lies in the hands of our younger generation,
and as the cream of our youth the students of Sherubtse College must play a
progressive role and shoulder the responsibility of shaping the destiny our
country. I place my full faith on all of you and have highest expectations that
each and every one of you will serve your country with love, loyalty and
dedication.’ This short excerpt of His Majesty’s speech can pose a number of questions
and challenges on our way ahead. One obvious and critical question is; how are
we ‘the cream of our youth’ going to shape the destiny of our nation? Another
question is; how are we going to make ourselves worthy of His Majesty’s
‘highest expectations’? Are we worthy of the name ‘the cream of the youth’?
These questions must be asked and answered as Sherubtse charts her future
course of development. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Over the course of a few faithful
decades, Sherubtse has progressed consistently. Even as we bask in the
resplendent glory of the past we must not lose sight of the fact that what
Sherubtse has achieved till now have been the results of her conscious and
sustained effort over the years, not due to luck or accident. What it will
achieve from now will be contingent upon how wisely she faces the challenges
lying ahead. For Sherubtse, the future cannot be what comes to it. It should be
how the institute wants it to be. Conscious and prudent decision on its part
will hold the key to its own future. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The idea of expanding Sherubtse
College into the National University has already been conceived by the royal
government of Bhutan. The college campus has been enlarged by adding the
adjoining areas. The construction of additional infrastructure is underway.
Sherubtse will face a big challenge in the immediate future in connection with
the above endeavour. The challenge must be met on different fronts – on
economic and intellectual fronts, on mental and cultural fronts. But the major
challenge must be essentially met in the minds of Sherubtseans. Sherubtse will
have to face the challenge of striking on its own – building a distinctly
Bhutanese university. With the advent of IT age, when things are bound to
undergo changes, Sherubtse’s future holds even bigger challenges. </div>
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<br /></div>
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With myriad of challenges Sherubtse,
however, holds out umpteen promises. If Sherubtse faced the challenges and
pursued the promises with abiding conviction that nothing is impossible if done
with faith and goodwill, it shall be a dream realized, a goal attained, a
heaven made. </div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-20810247036737881652012-03-18T21:39:00.000-07:002012-03-25T06:10:18.655-07:00Drukyul’s destiny<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">(This essay was first published in Tarayana Foundation's book of tribute </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Drukgyel's Destiny </i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">in 2004)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4f81bd; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIO31fk9mTTHSc-owv4heyY27n4_30QXBClzabbFRI98sLxG2vDUoAzuABm_cQytcnGcFJCkBy7ZXj3aOAxVeNxrGmfRqmIONOCVZfeoEYPQp7JiL0PyLD7p4t1o9iWZIWjfAA8qwzYpX/s1600/$(KGrHqUOKn!E5DC+ThReBOdsjtsTgg~~60_57.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIO31fk9mTTHSc-owv4heyY27n4_30QXBClzabbFRI98sLxG2vDUoAzuABm_cQytcnGcFJCkBy7ZXj3aOAxVeNxrGmfRqmIONOCVZfeoEYPQp7JiL0PyLD7p4t1o9iWZIWjfAA8qwzYpX/s320/$(KGrHqUOKn!E5DC+ThReBOdsjtsTgg~~60_57.JPG" width="245" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Drukyul's Destiny has been inextricably linked with deeds of noble
note. Shaped by a people's faith and pride in their kingdom, forged by repeated
wars, chiseled out of dire circumstances, engineered by the visionary monarchs,
Drukyul's Destiny is an invaluable legacy of the past, priceless possession of
the present, and peerless gift to the future.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">For Bhutan, the tryst with Destiny began at the dawn of history,
as early as the 8th century A.D. when Guru Padmasambhava brought the light of
dharma to our land. Then, in the 13th century A.D., Phajo Drugom Zhigpo and an influx
of great religious figures came and blessed the land and sowed the seed of a
Pelden Drukpa.</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">But, the tryst with Drukyul's Destiny began almost three centuries
and eighty‐eight years ago when Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgay, the founder of this
tiny land of ours, snatched it from the jaws of wars and disintegration. Since
then, Drukyul's Destiny began to take shape. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Drukyul's Destiny. For it, wars were fought, lives sacrificed,
hardships endured. For Drukyul, the sail on the solemn ocean of Destiny was not
one of ease. A myriad of external threats had to be overcome. Numerous wars
with Tibet in the north and British India in the south. Frequent internal
strife had to be negotiated. From Paro to Mongar, Dagana to Gasa, a note of
discord sounded and drowned the symphony of fraternity. But, in the nick of
time, Destiny sent his own son and Gongsar Ugyen Wangchuck came. And he carved
and shaped the destiny of this our land.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The voyage done, he bequeathed us a secure Drukyul. Since then,
successive farsighted kings have steered forward this Shangri‐La. They took due
charge of Drukyul's Destiny and bettered it consistently and assiduously. They took
Drukyul's Destiny from the old to the new. Untold peace prevailed. Prosperity
dawned in its wake. Wars receded into a distant memory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">But, alas, this land of ours, this favourite child of Destiny,
this cultural oasis, this last bastion of precious dharma, this social utopia,
this "teeming womb of royal kings", suddenly found herself forsaken
by her mother when all of a sudden she awoke to the false subtleties of the
world. One militant group, then two, and then three. Infiltrating into Drukyul,
they infested the sacred jungles and compromised, even threatened, our
hard‐earned and long‐standing peace and sovereignty. A tiny nation that has
known nothing but peace and stability was genuinely concerned and disturbed. Even
as the fear of militant's threat to the nation's peace and sovereignty loomed
large in the mind of every Bhutanese, the militants continued to expand their
"domain" on the Bhutanese soil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Deeply concerned, His Majesty the king and the royal government
painstakingly explored every peaceful means possible to coax the militants into
leaving the country. But the earnest plea of the king and the benign government
fell on deaf ears and ultimately paled into total failure in the face of the
defiant and rebellious militants. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Then, what next? After all, the kingdom could not and would not
stake her independence for non‐ violence. War? Indeed. It was on the horizon.
People were all set astir by the ripples of an imminent war. They were, though,
anything but cowed. After all, the Bhutanese have their unyielding forbears to
look up to for bravery and loyalty, and an inspiring figure in our beloved king
to look up to for divine guidance. The Bhutanese may lack experience in
warfare, but they abound in indomitable will. There was no room for fear, and
there was none. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">His Majesty, our beloved king, made an earnest call and everyone
heard him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">He offered "blood toil, tears, and sweat". And everyone
accepted them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">15th December, 2003. This day went down in the modern Bhutanese
history as the most momentous day. On this day, a godlike monarch moved from
the Golden Throne to the front‐line. For the sake of the country he staked his
own royal life. Our army, though small, drew its strength from the royal
commander. Into the heart of the treacherous forests, they marched. For the
next few fateful days, Drukyul's Destiny was to be reshaped in the forge of the
forests, on the anvil of bravery, sacrifice, and commitment. Our king led them
and inspired them, our soldiers. And they fought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">For us the Bhutanese people, war is only a concept. We have seen
it only in the fantastic fairy tales and legends where gallant princes bravely
safeguard the territorial integrity of their land. But when it really happens,
we cannot help but believe that it is indeed a real entity. We also cannot help
but think that it is not just in fairy tales that a king fights wars. We have
amongst us too a god sent prince believed to exist only in the enchanted
fairylands. No wonder, a fairyland indeed has been our tiny kingdom where
everything impossible happens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The border between reality and fantasy virtually vanished when our
"gallant prince" returned triumphant from the war in just a few days.
We the "fairyland‐ers" could not help but say, "He has indeed
wrought magic". It was a moment of realization for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">To reshape Drukyul's Destiny, martyrs of the kingdom had to stake
their lives. This noble deed of theirs shall never go in vain. It shall leave a
distinct mark on the sands of time for posterity to see what path we have
trodden in the chastening journey with Destiny. As generations of Bhutanese
tread the self same path with Drukyul's Destiny into the unfathomable future,
the statement our crown prince, Dasho Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck, made in
his address to the nation on the 17th December, 2003, will echo and reecho in
everyone's mind: "The past did not see a king like His Majesty Jigme
Singye Wangchuck and neither will the future". <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Many, many years from now, in the distant future, even when fairy
tales fail to inspire them, the children of Drukyul will love to hear from
their parents a great story of a peerless king and his men who surged forward
in an unrivalled courage and snatched from the jaws of death Drukyul's Destiny.
Many, many years from now, even when the sky is over‐cast with ominous dark
clouds, the children of Drukyul will love to go out and leap and laugh and sing
the praise of their king of yore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Many, many years from now, even when Drukyul's Destiny poses
formidable questions, the short episode will inspire all the answers. Many,
many years from now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8597820681723359992.post-42883728491128491872012-03-17T00:00:00.002-07:002012-03-25T06:09:03.820-07:00Tracing the source of Gamri<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">(I wrote this article eight years ago when I first visited Sakteng)</span><br />
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0vmVArIoojS8AIdt4tfVvUWIho3YjZP1Hlyi2sN2KjIuZc_SAkNdnvfwrj0Qmahjn8N6ptUB65ZxJLCYogqyH_W-GDCN9LiQlrD18jmmBduHAj3LiVbLylr-V7LVfKqQCHJJhHhi_rHHK/s1600/6184962014_ca604a21c5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0vmVArIoojS8AIdt4tfVvUWIho3YjZP1Hlyi2sN2KjIuZc_SAkNdnvfwrj0Qmahjn8N6ptUB65ZxJLCYogqyH_W-GDCN9LiQlrD18jmmBduHAj3LiVbLylr-V7LVfKqQCHJJhHhi_rHHK/s320/6184962014_ca604a21c5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Children of Sakteng</span> <i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photo: Bhutan Observer</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">From
Trashigang town to Phongmay to Joenkhar to Thragthri to Sakteng, the lamentable
cry of Gamri is loud and clear. The journey from Phongmay to the plain of
bamboos is long and tiring. One climbs up the mountain ranges with Gamri always
flowing by one’s side – now by right, now by left. One imagines that one would
reach the source of the stream long before one reaches the plain of bamboos. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">After hours
of walk, Gamri ceases to make its lamentable noise. One fancies that the stream
has suddenly disappeared altogether. But next moment, Gamri reappears – this
time in all its beauty. It quietly flows across the plain of bamboos. Sakteng
is here, but the source of Gamri is lost beyond many high mountains.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">This is a
fairy land. With identical little houses clustered together against the vast
emptiness of the glacial valley, the majestic mountains surrounding the valley
still snow-capped and sparkling at the approach of summer, the gently
undulating plains dotted with grazing yaks and woolly sheep, and silvery Gamri
flowing across the length of the valley, it is idyllic and picturesque. This is
Sakteng, the plain of bamboos.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Sakteng, the
plain of bamboos. But the plain of bamboos without bamboos. Wondering, one goes
into the village and meets a host of identical looking people, identically
dressed. Bamboos had been cleared by Ama Jomo, the community’s local deity, to
build the village, say these people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">A group of
Tibetan migrants were looking for a suitable place to settle in. Ama Jomo was
the leader. The group was crossing Nyagchungla, the high pass between Sakteng
and Merak, when the old and the weak succumbed to fatigue. The leader looked
back from the mountain and saw a <i>sakteng</i>,
a plain of bamboos (<i>sak</i> – bamboos, <i>teng </i>– plain). Immediately, she cleared
the bamboos and founded the village of Sakteng for the old and the weak. The
rest of the people moved beyond Nyagchungla to Merak and settled there.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">It was a
long, long time ago. Now, Sakteng has changed a lot. At five, little Rinchen
already goes to school in her favourite shingkha (Brokpa dress for women). Her
ambition is to become a Miss! Leki Pemo, 68, goes to the BHU to treat a
headache. Pema, 15, hates being sent to brangsa (nomadic cowshed) across
Nyagchungla. She does not want to follow yaks and sheep like her mother. She
wants to follow a young man to Thimphu. Many young men and women find
non-formal education programme as their link and gateway to urban Bhutan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Though much
has changed, much abides. Chuba (Brokpa dress for men) and shingkha are still
the much preferred dress of the community. Ama Jomo is still revered. The
phrase, <i>Aai ten Brokpa lugsu </i>(in our
Brokpa tradition or custom) is much repeated. Yaks and sheep are still their
source of livelihood.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">On a chilly
crisp morning, one goes for a short stroll around the village. There is a
ruddy-cheeked young girl, barefoot, on the marshy bank of Gamri, singing a
traditional Brokpa song as she tends her yaks – </span><i style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Nge phayul gangri karpo dra</i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> (my fatherland is like the white
mountain). One goes near her and asks, “Do you like to be a herder?” “No”. This
answer has always been with her, troubling her. “What do you want to do, then?”
One asks. “I want to go to Thimphu,” comes the straight answer. “Why?” One is
tempted to ask. “I don’t know,” she giggles away.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="Default" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">This short
conversation gives one an insight into what is going on in the mind of the
girl. She sings the traditional tune just because she is in sequestered
Sakteng. In her sub-conscious self, she sings a modern tune. If she makes it to
Thimphu, she will sing a modern tune, and her fatherland, which is physically
and metaphorically like a white mountain, will have no one to sing an eulogy to
her enduring nature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05559817273709806016noreply@blogger.com2