DAY TO BE REMEMBERED

On the present day of Monday, December 15, 2014, coinciding with Monday, December 15, 2003, a span of eleven years past, I distinctly recollect the events of that particular day. As we commemorate the 60th Birth Anniversary of our revered fourth king, I wish to offer the ensuing recollection as a tribute to our nation.

The day marking the culmination of my Class X BCSE exam at Sarpang Higher Secondary School was December 13, 2003. The weight of year-long academic burdens lifted from the students, and a prevailing sense of relief permeated the air. Echoing throughout were exclamations of "It's finally over!" The following day was dedicated to a farewell party for the departing students of Class X. Excitement radiated from the outgoing students, while teachers and leaders busied themselves with preparations. My friends and I were animated, our exuberance manifesting through spirited movements and shouts that resonated far and wide, celebrating the conclusion of our year-long academic endeavor.

As twilight descended, around 7:30 PM, after partaking in dinner, our dormitory warden entered with an announcement that those hailing from Nganglam were required to depart for home the next morning, preempting the farewell festivities. Although our group complied without hesitation, my friends and I felt a tinge of disappointment at departing prematurely, missing out on the anticipated farewell gathering.

The subsequent morning saw us embarking on a journey via lorry from Gelephu gateway. Positioned at the truck's rear, passengers engaged in varied activities – some admired the passing landscape, some sought rest, others engaged in lively banter, and some, like Mr. Tshering, expressed a sense of dissatisfaction due to being responsible for tending to the school's pigs throughout the year. The larger pig had been reserved for the farewell feast, a fact that weighed heavily on his mind.

Our voyage traversed seven hours through the territories of West Bengal and Assam in India, ultimately reaching the border gate of Nganglam. The atmosphere exuded a sense of serenity and calm. Despite apprehensions about encountering elephants along the way, as well as concerns about ULFA and BODO insurgencies, we undertook the two-and-a-half-hour trek back to Dechheling, our hometown.

Around 9:30 PM, we arrived in Bapta, our village, where we bid our friends farewell, dispersing to our respective homesteads. My journey concluded by 10 o'clock, and upon reaching home, I found my stepmother engrossed in chanting mantras (Om mani padme hum ri). A shared meal, already consumed by her and specially accompanied by the ara (local wine) she had prepared for her son and me, ensued. Our conversation meandered through various topics, and eventually, the day drew to a close as we settled down for sleep.

Dawn of the next day, December 15, 2003, ushered in the customary activities of our village. With the crowing of roosters, daily life resumed its rhythm. Villagers busied themselves with cooking and preparing oranges to trade in Nganglam. During winter, a significant portion of the village's population would venture down for trade, leaving the village somewhat deserted by morning.

On this fateful morning, around 10 o'clock, my brother's father-in-law paid me a visit. We engaged in relaxed conversation while partaking in the locally crafted bangchang (wine). Suddenly, the tranquil air was pierced by the sound of gunshots emanating from the ulpha and bodo base camp, located 5 to 10 kilometers from our village. Apprehension gripped us as we speculated about potential harm to our fellow villagers on their trade route. A tense silence enveloped us, shattered only by the escalating cacophony of gunfire and explosions. The students from the nearby Non-Formal Education (NFE) center, who were engaged in an exam on the football ground, scattered in all directions, seeking refuge in their homes. A neighboring girl rushed to us, her face etched with fear, proclaiming the outbreak of war and questioning where to seek safety. I reassured her while struggling with my own concerns.

In response to the unfolding chaos, the villagers began migrating en masse to a designated area designated by the village leader, carrying with them their possessions and horses. The bizarre sight of villagers hauling heavy loads alongside their horses during this tumultuous flight left an indelible mark. Amid the escalating sounds of violence, my stepmother, father-in-law, and cousin brother chose to remain behind, while I watched, powerless to sway their decision.

The scene continued to unravel – a cloud of smoke emerged from the terrorist camp on the opposing hillside, compounding our distress. We remained immobilized, our hearts heavy with worry for the traders en route to Nganglam. After a while, some of the villagers returned, bearing harrowing accounts of their ordeal. As they approached Kangrizee, the hill that separated our village from Nganglam and the location of the terrorist camps, they encountered a deafening explosion, followed by a barrage of bullets. This traumatic encounter severed the line of horses from the procession of people. Some villagers retreated, while others pressed onward, leaving behind their laden horses and embracing the perilous flight for survival.

The unsettling sight of fighter jets overhead further intensified my anxiety. Among those who returned from the Kangrizee incident, families could be reunited. Tragically, families proceeding beyond Kangrizee toward Nganglam experienced the loss of parents and, in some cases, infants as well. It fell to us to care for the infants, feeding them cow's milk for a week. Those who were unable to cross Kangrizee were accommodated in Nganglam, provided with shelter and sustenance until they were eventually released to return home after a week.

The day following this episode, a local official encountered a group of terrorists – men, women, and even babies – traversing towards our village with guns and explosives. Swiftly relaying this information to the armed forces, a confrontation ensued. Our soldiers acted with determination and precision, managing to apprehend the intruders. Subsequent investigations yielded a cache of guns, bombs, and a significant sum of currency. The captured terrorists were duly transferred to Indian authorities along with their belongings and funds.

In the days that followed, another incident transpired in the neighboring village of Kulamanti, involving three more armed men. Our armed forces were swiftly dispatched, resulting in a confrontation that concluded with the elimination of the intruders. These occurrences compelled us to remain indoors after 4 o'clock for two weeks, as our village became a fortress of sorts, guarded by the Royal Bhutan Army.

Amid the turmoil, a group of laymen were arrested for unlawfully removing bones from buried bodies, intending to craft trumpets. While the nation grappled with adversity, these actions were deemed an affront to the law, leading to their imprisonment. The deceased were cremated in accordance with legal mandates.

Gradually, life regained its semblance of normalcy. The peace that ensued was a testament to the valor of our armed forces and the dedicated volunteers who safeguarded our nation. To Cheyi Chari Ngang, our beacon of happiness and joy, we offer our tears of gratitude. Your heroic spirit shall forever reside within our hearts, guiding and inspiring us. Pelden Drukpa Gyelo – may the protective deities guard our beloved nation.

Memory from Bajothang HSS

The commemoration held on the 8th of November, 2014, at Bajothang Higher Secondary School, stands as an indelible milestone within the annals of my personal history. Following my scholastic triumph and subsequent graduation, my inaugural employment post-college materialized at Bajothang Higher Secondary School. Over and above the vocation of imparting education, I conscientiously shouldered a spectrum of diverse roles and responsibilities.

Each facet of these multifarious duties proved to be not only gratifying but also profoundly edifying. The present juncture, however, warrants singular attention, as the accolade accorded to me takes its exclusive attribution from the dedication and aptitude exhibited by the members of the Bumpa house during the year 2014. Their unwavering diligence and exceptional competencies have rendered them deserving recipients of this esteemed recognition.

This event embodies a convergence of significance, wherein my personal journey converges with the collective accomplishments of those under the aegis of the Bumpa house. The ceremony served as a testament to the seamless interweaving of individual triumphs and collaborative feats. This award resonates as a tribute not only to my efforts but to the synergy fostered by the cohort I had the privilege to mentor and guide.

In the grand tapestry of life experiences, this occasion has woven an intricate thread, forever uniting me with the temporal tapestry of the Bajothang Higher Secondary School's history. As time unfurls, this juncture will continue to evoke a profound sense of fulfillment, underscoring the symphony of dedication, learning, and shared accomplishment that reverberated through the corridors of education on that hallowed day in November.

Envoy (KANG-THUNG-PA in Tshangla kha)

The forgotten customs that thrived in the era before the advent of telephones and mobile services in my village are a testament to a bygone culture. In those days, whenever a family member passed away, the news had to be conveyed to relatives through the efforts of one or two individuals. In cases where the head of the family, such as a father or mother, had kin scattered across various corners of the world, it was imperative to dispatch envoys known as "KANG-THUNG-PA" to deliver this somber news. These envoys would undertake journeys spanning three to four days on foot to ensure the message reached all concerned parties.

However, if the relatives lived in distant lands, the news might go unnoticed, only coming to light years later. The absence of an envoy following a person's demise led to verbal disputes known as "heta yang mey," where the surviving family members would need to seek forgiveness, or "Shakpa," by offering a monetary recompense to the deceased person's relatives. This cultural practice held significant importance in that era, as it cemented the bonds between relatives and prevented them from faltering in times of need.

The role of an envoy could be discerned by a specific indicator: a kabney, a male Bhutanese tie, discreetly tucked within the KHANANG, a pocket formed by the traditional male Bhutanese dress known as "gho," with its fringes extending outward. If one encountered an individual with this distinctive appearance, it was a clear sign that someone had passed away, and the person was embarking on a journey as an envoy.

Despite the strides made by technological advancements in enhancing people's lives, it's important to acknowledge that we've relinquished remarkable narratives from the past. Recently, I had the privilege of transcribing the ancestral anecdotes shared by my father-in-law as we leisurely sipped on ara, a local wine. I'm indebted to him for imparting this heritage, and I eagerly anticipate further revelations to share with the visitors of my blog.

A method for speaking test IELTS

If anyone is aspiring to prepare for IELTS speaking test, this is the mock speaking test video and it helps a lot. Please refer to this video if you ever want to appear IELTS exam anywhere at any time. I had been practicing mock test with this video and certainly I could appear my speaking test that was rewarding too. Likewise I did practice same for my listening test and reading test which are there freely available in you-tube.

Preparation for IELTS

October has proven to be the most demanding month this year. The ongoing trial exams coupled with the daunting prospect of the upcoming IELTS examination on November 1st have made it particularly taxing.

Undertaking preparations for the IELTS exam is far from straightforward. Despite my continuous efforts in preparation thus far, I am still grappling with its challenges, causing a persistent sense of concern.

The four components of the listening test resemble the complexities of driving, demanding the concurrent utilization of distinct skills: listening, analysis, and writing.

Similarly, the three segments of the reading passage equate to a 100-meter race, necessitating rapid skimming of the content to effectively address 40 questions within a strict 60-minute timeframe.

The writing section, encompassing two essays to be completed within 60 minutes, along with the speaking component spanning three sections and lasting around 14 to 15 minutes, further compound the rigorous nature of the examination.

While I do regret not having had ample time for thorough preparation, circumstances have led to a last-minute rush. I can only hope for favorable luck and seek blessings from a higher power. Nevertheless, I am committed to giving my utmost effort, trusting that certain aspects will naturally fall into place.

"Gift of an inestimable Value"

Under the circlet of DLSS I was grown up,
Guided by its principles and the teachers,
Yearning dreams of mine are made come true,
Earnestly I am touch and hurdled by its souvenir,
Noble wisdom must hereafter radiates forever.

December 17th as we celebrate the Golden Jubilee,
Objectively marking 60th Birth Anniversary of 4th King,
Rendering the construction of first ever clock tower,
Jubilantly bring all the hard work and success together,
Ignominiously must not linger unaltered latter.

Calling back to the time we enjoyed,
Pertaining to the ideals that we inherited,
Apprehend DLSS had endow us with the life,
We offer our deference and neighborliness.

Let me pay reverence to all the bygone teachers,
As the birds warble notes to the morning air,
My prayers are for the well being of those teachers,
I am thankful for life and the blessings given.

For those departed soul of our great teachers,
I pray for God to keep their soul in his love,
To those now serving the nation with loyalty,
I bestow a word of cheer and salute for all.

The clout of modernization and democracy,
Cheered by the first ever elected parliamentarian,
All alumni under his wise leadership have matured,
To manifest day with programs being celebrated.

The Negative Call Value

Bhutan's telecommunication services have long stood as paramount service providers within the realm of telecommunications within the nation. Despite a multitude of advantages and disadvantages, the advent of TashiCell has partially quenched the previously unattainable desires of the populace. Personally, I have been a loyal user of B-Mobile services since the inception of mobile communication in Bhutan.

Throughout various significant national festivities, Bhutan Telecom has extended numerous offers and bonuses, a notable example being the "Happy Hours Weekends" occurring every Friday. The presence of such a well-established corporate entity has been a fortunate asset for every Bhutanese citizen. As modernization sweeps through Bhutan, the telecommunications sector has emerged as a pivotal force, connecting individuals across the expanse of the nation. In this context, communication has become an indispensable tool in the arsenal of Bhutan, a budding young democracy, as it strives to fulfill its mandates.

On a contrasting note, from an economic standpoint, the government elected to impose a tax on B-Mobile users starting October 1st, 2014. This tax, amounting to Nu. 5/- for every hundred units recharged, mirrors the taxation associated with vehicle purchases, fuel consumption, and indeed most aspects of daily life. Presently, existing within the current era, the notion of evading taxes has become an impracticality. Thus, such circumstances now pervade the landscape of this youthful democracy.

My intention, however, lies in focusing on the legacy of B-Mobile services within Bhutan. Thus far, these services have seamlessly woven themselves into the tapestry of Bhutanese existence. The introduction of a competitive force in TashiCell prompted B-Mobile to offer a unique proposition involving negative fifteen call value, which would later be adjusted upon recharging. While this presented an advantageous and gratifying arrangement, it has regrettably faded into obscurity since October 1st, 2014.

An inquiry naturally arises – did Bhutan Telecom duly notify its esteemed clientele regarding the cessation of this service? Historically, we, as clients, have received messages pertaining to network maintenance, disruptions, and special bonuses through SMS. However, I, as a patron, have not received any correspondence or clarifications regarding the discontinuation of the negative call value up to 15. I earnestly implore the relevant agency or authority to elucidate the factual details for public consumption.

Ultimately, in a nation as young as ours in the realm of democracy, it is crucial to recognize that each individual, as a citizen and offspring of this land, retains the rights to both free speech and access to information.

Message to my Mother

I originated within an underprivileged family context. My early nurturing was lacking, primarily due to the absence of my mother during my formative years. This absence left a profound impact on me, as I encountered challenges and difficulties that stemmed from her early departure. Despite this, I'm certain that she held numerous aspirations and hopes for me during my infancy. I understand that her separation from me during that crucial time was unintentional.

I'm fully aware of the depth of her affection towards me; she likely endured her own ailments while being consumed by concerns for my well-being. The distress she must have felt throughout her illness, coupled with her worries about me, must have been incredibly overwhelming. Her physical struggles were likely matched by the emotional turmoil of being unable to communicate her concerns. At that juncture, her paramount wish was to regain her health and strength, solely to contribute to my proper upbringing.

Dearest Mother, I've attempted countless times to conjure memories of you, dating back to when my cognitive abilities allowed, but regrettably, I've failed. My recollections are void, leaving a palpable emptiness whenever I reflect on that period. Had you not departed prematurely, there would be an abundance of narratives I could share with you. My recollections seem to commence when my cognitive capacities reached a more developed state.

Allow me to recount a tale now, Mother. When I reached the age of five, a realization dawned upon me, and its impact lingered ever since. I was labeled "singza wagtsa" - a child without a mother - and our family was known as "dhugpu" - one deserving pity - within the community. We endured arduous times, struggling even for a basic meal like "ashum thugpa" (maize residue porridge). During those periods, my father and sister would venture out early in the morning in search of sustenance, leaving me behind with my stepmother. Often, they returned fatigued and empty-handed. Occasionally, they would bring back a sack of wild sweet potatoes, which sustained us for a few days.

Our family's routine, often criticized by neighbors, included quarrels that disrupted our mealtimes. Peaceful dining was a luxury we rarely experienced, as disputes between my father, stepmother, and sister would escalate during these moments. While I wasn't privy to the underlying causes, I witnessed the escalating arguments. My stepmother's frustration would lead her to abstain from the meal (the hard-earned wild sweet potatoes), which would grow cold on her plate.

Out of exasperation, she would utter words like, "Don't you deserve better meals?" My sister, equally exasperated, would respond, "We struggle to obtain even this meal. If you can't adapt, you're free to return home to better fare." Father's intervention was stern, warning against complaints and insisting that we make do with whatever was provided. If not, consequences were threatened. My stepmother found it challenging to assimilate into our circumstances.

Gradually, it came to light that she was a newcomer to our family. Following each altercation, she would seek my father's intervention, often enlisting her brother's support. Over time, she acclimated to our situation. During my father and sister's absences, there was no one to care for me, and she became my guardian, overseeing my involvement in household chores.

Several months later, she gave birth to a son. As I found myself adrift, lacking proper clothing and a stable home, I sought refuge among friends and relatives. My existence became a cycle of seeking shelter within the homes of relatives. Father's return from the fields typically occurred in the late evening hours.

She did better this time!

In the present year, my daughter, Kezang Cheki, graced the stage for her second cultural performance on the evenings of September 26th and 27th. The sheer magnitude of my emotional response was palpable as Class I A unveiled their theatrical presentation. Of particular note was the 15th act, entitled 'DESI Boys', which commanded an exuberant reaction from the entire auditorium. Moreover, the parents in attendance found themselves overwhelmed with tears of felicity as their offspring took the stage incognito, delivering an unexpectedly exquisite dance performance. Gratitude is extended to Madam Asha Mongar, the guiding force behind the development of our children, whose efforts have borne fruit in the form of their remarkable achievements.

In the preceding year, my daughter participated in a Hindi dance during the annual concert as a member of Class PP A. This year, she once again engaged in the realm of Hindi dance, albeit with a discernible improvement. The incorporation of English elements within the composition contributed to this heightened finesse. Irrespective of the program's nature, my daughter's performance resonated deeply within me. To the dedicated educators who have expended considerable effort in nurturing the values and competencies within our children's minds, I express my heartfelt gratitude. Educating young children, given their tender age, is undeniably a challenging endeavor. I duly noted that Madam herself dedicated almost a month to this endeavor—a display of commitment worthy of admiration. I extend my sincerest accolades to these educators, trusting that truth will eventually find its rightful place.

The noble profession of teaching, which serves as both our livelihood and vocation, has been beset by newfound challenges and apprehensions. The unsettling trend of teachers and principals facing litigation has cast a shadow over this honorable calling. Such are the forms of recognition bestowed upon us. It is my firm conviction that behind these unexpected tribulations lie innumerable noble intentions aimed at enhancing and honing the potential of our children. To impart what we conceive as a comprehensive education, the importance of instilling discipline among students cannot be overstated. This stands as a pivotal tenet in the cultivation of virtuous individuals within our society.

Concurrently, educators must be cognizant that, in the process of disciplining students, an early involvement of parents can avert complexities. Entrusting students into the care of their parents during the initial stages can prove instrumental in mitigating issues, allowing subsequent matters to be addressed with greater efficacy.

I am in dilemma

I submitted an application for enrollment in the Master of Science in Physics program, aiming to secure the scholarship offered by the Thailand International Cooperation Agency (TICA). Following this, a group of my peers and I were shortlisted and subsequently participated in the rigorous selection interview process. For some, this was their inaugural experience, while others had been through it once before; in my case, it marked my third attempt.

In the past, I had engaged in the selection interview for the Trongsa Penlopship Scholarship in 2012, reaching the standby position. Similarly, I took part in the TICA scholarship interview in 2013, without achieving placement on the list. This year, undeterred by previous outcomes, I approached the TICA scholarship interview once more. It is a testament to the adage "Where there is a will, there is a way," as I successfully navigated the selection process this time. I have been eagerly anticipating the commencement of my next life chapter, filled with a sense of purpose and the aspiration to contribute to the intellectual growth of young minds in my nation. This journey stands as the exclusive route through which I can serve my country, monarch, and fellow citizens—a unique avenue to fulfill my role as an educator.

Upon fulfilling the requisites, including the submission of necessary documents and adherence to formalities outlined by both the ministry and the Royal Civil Service Commission (RCSC), I returned to my teaching responsibilities at a school in Monggar. However, an unforeseen development emerged. A communication from the ministry requested that I submit an IELTS certificate. While I promptly replied to convey my lack of possession of said certificate, I was advised to contact the RCSC for further clarification. Unfortunately, my attempts to reach out to the RCSC were met with unanswered calls, unlike some of my more fortunate peers who managed to establish contact. Subsequent conversations with RCSC representatives revealed that they would apprise the ministry after confirming the matter and that the ministry would subsequently communicate with us directly.

It is noteworthy that this criterion demanding an IELTS certificate was neither stipulated in the scholarship announcement nor had it been a prerequisite previously, considering that numerous acquaintances of mine had pursued their master's degrees in Thailand without this requirement. This situation has left us in a state of helplessness, exacerbated by the closure of the IELTS testing window and the logistical challenges of traveling from Monggar. While I personally might be willing to make such a journey, it cannot come at the expense of neglecting the hundreds of students relying on me for guidance—a responsibility I consider paramount. Presently, I find myself in a dilemma, alongside my fellow candidates, grappling with this unanticipated turn of events.

Amidst these circumstances, my colleagues' perspectives on this scholarship complication are increasingly fraught with concern. Rather than offering reassurance, some are suggesting that perhaps the opportunity is being redirected towards favored candidates, implying that my background within the ministry might be less advantageous in understanding these complexities. However, I am inclined to maintain a positive outlook. Given the integrity and visionary approach of both the ministry and RCSC within our well-governed nation, I believe such outcomes are highly unlikely. After all, we have submitted our applications, undergone medical evaluations, and quite possibly, our names have already been registered with the university.

I am appreciative of those friends who stand by me, asserting that my scholarship is unlikely to be revoked once awarded. They reassure me that the ministry will find ways to ensure my participation. I concur with this viewpoint, as it aligns with my perspective on the matter. My motivation for urging alternative solutions from the ministry stems from the fact that many scholarship recipients, myself included, lack the IELTS certification. Moreover, I have identified an incongruity, as this requirement was not included in the scholarship announcement published on the RCSC website.

In addition, I have received information from friends who underwent the same scholarship experience last year, indicating that the IELTS test could potentially be taken subsequent to arriving at the university. There are also discussions about the RCSC exploring the possibility of recognizing the English Language Proficiency Certificate (ELPC) issued by the Bhutan Council for School Examination and Assessment (BCSEA). In instances where unforeseen complications arise, especially ones that were not outlined prior to selection and announcement, it would be beneficial for both the RCSC and the ministry to act equitably and judiciously.