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.
