Approximately 40 kilometers to the north of Nganglam, nestled amidst the landscape, lies a cluster of settlements interconnected by the Nganglam-Pemagatshel footpath that traverses the valley. This locale finds itself bordered by Dungpgu and Ngangray to the west, Martsala and Baapta to the east, and Kholomri and Dungchelo to the north—villages that are in close proximity to one another. The valley's central core sees the Pelingri River gracefully flowing southwards.
The inhabitants of Dechheling, known as Dechhelingpas, exhibit a predominantly unpretentious, unassuming lifestyle with modest means. Their endeavors primarily revolve around subsistence, as they engage in cultivating an extensive array of both essential sustenance and commercial crops. Notably, maize and soybeans claim prominence as staple food sources. While oranges stand as the principal cash crop, the introduction of the Dungsum Cement Project has cast a shadow on the once thriving orange cultivation, resulting in a decline. In contemporary times, the denizens of this area have begun embracing urban ways of living, contributing to their meager incomes. Consequently, traditional rice cultivation has waned.
The linguistic tapestry is woven with Sharchops, a dialect divergent from the conventional form, rendering it potentially incomprehensible to most Sharchop speakers. Its origins likely trace back to Sharkhalaktang, sharing certain resemblances. The local architecture predominantly employs organic materials such as wood, bamboo, and banana leaves in the construction of dwellings. As the tides of governance and time undergo transformation, the metamorphosis of the Dechhelingpas unfolds, with the landscape witnessing ongoing development endeavors.
Me as a student
I was raised in the nurturing confines of Dechheling, my explorations limited until the age of 19, at which point I completed my initial scholastic journey at Dechheling Lower Secondary School. (Interestingly, I was admitted to the school at the tender age of 11!) Given my seniority and stature, educators frequently bestowed upon me the role of class captain. An amusing anecdote from those days involves my response to requests for restroom breaks; I would grant permission only in exchange for promises of an eraser, a pencil, or the savory offerings of roasted maize and soybeans on the following day. Ah, the memories! During that epoch, I excelled academically, consistently securing the top rank across multiple classes: PP, I, II, III, IV, V, VI (with an impressive 74.3%), and placing second in VII, followed by a commendable 63% in VIII. It is not hubris but a recognition that in a particular context, even a one-eyed individual can reign as king.
My academic prowess garnered favor among several teachers, though, paradoxically, it also seemed to attract the attention of numerous admirers of the opposite sex. Such attention led to a number of romantic entanglements and, amusingly, earned me a reprimand during a school assembly by none other than our headmaster, Mr. Rinchen Gyeltshen. The school boasted a suggestion box prominently situated in the office area. Regrettably, instead of constructive suggestions, some envious classmates exploited it by submitting the names of couples, an action that resulted in my disciplinary chastisement.
Nonetheless, this did not deter me from cultivating relationships. In my eighth-grade year, I formed four friendships with young ladies, all of whom have since married. In a twist of fate, I now have two children of my own. Progressing through my academic journey, I transitioned to a boarding school in Sarpang during the ninth year, achieving the coveted first position in IXB and securing third place in XC. While in the tenth grade, I mustered the courage to express my affections to a young lady, only to be met with rejection – she was none other than Migma Dema Sherpa. Another admirer, Sakumtala Leepcha, also held affection for me, but fate didn't unite us.
In subsequent years, I pursued my education through Zhemgang (studying Pure Science in XI) and continued through XII (achieving a commendable 67% in ISCE). During these years, romantic endeavors took a back seat. Following this phase, I engaged in a year-long apprenticeship in Trashiyangtse at Tshaling CPS before embarking on my academic journey at Paro College of Education, pursuing a degree in Secondary Education. During my training period, I formed yet another significant connection.
In the present, I stand as an educator at Bajothang Higher Secondary School, content in my role and grateful for my small yet cherished family.
Phanzor (A hill where prayer flags are being set), my birth place
Nestled at the foothills of Ngangraygonpa lies my village, a place where the confluence of "Phan" meaning prayer flag and "Zor" meaning hill, creates a serene atmosphere. Comprising 5-6 households, this village holds a profound significance in my heart, as its closeness and attachment to me are undeniable. Throughout my lifetime, this bond will remain unbroken, for it is the place I proudly call my hometown.
In the village leadership, Meme Luchei Ata assumed the role of the village head. In times of illness, our recourse was to seek his aid, as he stood as the sole healer in those days. Celebrations and festivals demanded his consultation and approval; failure to do so would earn us his displeasure and reproach, showcasing his authority. Regrettably, Meme Luchei Ata passed away a year ago. I extend my prayers for his eternal rest and hope for his swift return to continue serving people like us.
Delving into my family history reveals a lineage that spans generations, though details of our distant past are elusive. To provide a legacy for my children, I shall recount some essential elements here. My father, BOGAR, alongside his wife PEMA CHODEN, led a family that grappled with meager means of survival. Their offspring numbered around four, but sadly, one met an untimely demise, leaving me as the youngest. My early recollections are tinged with the loss of my mother, who, when I was merely three, succumbed to poisoning. Though I strive to remember her visage from that tender age, the memory escapes me; thus, I have never truly beheld her.
My father, a man of modest demeanor, provided steadfast support, yet the intricacies of life's challenges were beyond my youthful comprehension. Later, he welcomed a second wife into our family, a decision obscured from my awareness. It was relayed to me that my tender age required supervision during his fieldwork, prompting this new chapter. Around the age of four, I encountered my stepmother cradling a newborn son, though the specifics evade me. A distinct memory remains of the day when our entire family journeyed to her parents' abode, bearing a whole pig carcass as part of the traditional celebration for the birth of a child. This archaic custom mandated that, following a child's birth in the husband's family, the child be taken to the wife's parents' home. A pig was ritually sacrificed, marking a three to four-day festivity. On this occasion, my younger brother, Kelzang Chedup, was the center of attention; he now serves as an educator.
Our family now stands at four, with my elder sister Dorji Zangmo having wed Pema Namgyel and raising two children, both engaged in farming. My older brother Guru Tenzin united with Lungten Wangmo, nurturing two children and pursuing a career as a mason at KHPC Gyelposhing. My younger brother Kezang Chedup joined in matrimony with Sherab Zangmo, bringing forth two children and assuming a teaching role at Dechheling LSS Nganglam. As for myself, I wed Kinzang Choden and am blessed with two children. My professional path led me to become an educator at Bajothang HSS in Wangdue.
In essence, my narrative weaves through the tapestry of my village, my lineage, and the interconnected lives that shape my journey.
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