Back in Thimphu after 20 years! (published by Bhutan Times in 2008)

I am absolutely filled with emotions- no better way of getting out of it than jotting some of that down. I have never written anything seriously in my life except my thesis some five years ago. A strange feeling of detachment from my 17 years of passionate teaching at Sherubtse has inspired me to write today.

As a fresh university graduate in 1987, Thimphu looked and smelt different to me. Coming from Sherubtse then, Thimphu still looked crowded, cramped and full of vehicles. As a very normal practice those days, I had gone through the chores of civil service exams, officers’ training and attachment programmes. Scholarship came by without much effort but with a string attached – earmarked to teach at Sherubtse. When I landed back at Sherubtse in 1991 to be on the other side of the table this time, I had not even a faintest of idea that I would spend 17 best years of my life there. Time rolled by with every passing batch of graduates and arrival of the fresh ones. Almost at the same proportion was faculty turn over. Only when you occasionally meet your older students driving the newest of cars in the country, turned plump and flanked by their grown up children, you get an explanation to your receding and graying hair and you are alerted about your own future.

Something suddenly struck my mind and I did decide to leave Sherubtse surprising many there – even myself. I had seen this college grow from pre-University to degree, from some 200 to 1000 students and mere 20 to over 100 faculty members. More recently, new buildings, new facilities, new courses and modern amenities trickling down brought comforts and excitements and also the growing problems challenged the management in many ways.

I had landed at Sherubtse from Thimphu in a government Hilux with just a cooking gas cylinder and a bedding rolled in a typical green coloured thick cloth case and this week when I returned to Thimphu I had my own (the only tangible saving )– a brand new Getz car that I proudly bought without taking any loan. Of course a truckload of old furniture, utensils and clothing, and books also followed me, not to mention a newly bought pair of reading glass that I vehemently refuse to put on. As I put up with my son, who is recently employed, in a cramped house overlooking a dusty and busy highway, I am constantly reminded of my beautiful government bungalow within very green Sherubtse campus, which I had occupied only about 15 months ago after changing some six other different quarters.

I walked into my new office only to find some contractors and engineers discussing the construction project. No academics yet! I missed my teaching, the crowd of young men and women in the corridors, on the play fields, mess and hostels. I missed my colleagues, occasional exchanges of greetings, discussions and gossips of all kinds (salary raise being the most prominent) and above all the serene environment of Kanglung. But then why did I choose to abandon all that I cherished?

As I sit back in the new office at Thimphu all by myself, I try to reason out. Only thing that comes to my mind is Thimphu vs Kanglung phenomenon. Over 600 kms of rugged road commanding two full days of tiring drive from our lateral route and even the greater distance through volatile Assam state of India, Eastern Bhutan even today is truly Jamie Zeppa’s “Beyond Clouds”. Quite often frustrated with all these difficulties, I had questioned to myself - who has stayed at Sherubtse more than me? Obviously, no one and why should I? I have seen many officials have started their career in Thimphu and retired from here. They always grumble about high living standard in the capital city, difficult to pull on etc. but never agreed to get away from Thimphu. Some of them also have managed to buy ‘plots’ and build houses and send their children abroad. There must be some Thimphu tricks that I may as well try out and experience the glamour, I suspect also there is.

I ran into some of my old friends during the last few days in-person and through means of communications. They congratulated me for ‘getting out’ of there and wished me better luck. But for now I am yet to come out of Sherubtse reminiscence and more importantly I have to soon come to terms with my new job.

Seven Life Imprints ( published by Business Bhutan in their popular column ‘Seven’ – Vol 1,  Isuue 32, May 01, 2010)

1.     My first world

My early childhood memory in Dorokha is limited to a primary school of barefoot students with two teachers doing multi-grade teaching. The summers were marked with melodious rice plantation-rhymes sung by brightly dressed women folk; autumn with deusis ‘played’ with young village boys during Tiwar (a Hindu festival of light); winter with sound of horses’ bells of visiting Haaps; few exciting days of marriages of teenage couples glorified with deafening blank gunfire by the most ‘dashing’ man of the village, the juicy golden oranges, people returning home from market - smelling of kerosene, spilled over their backs from the porous bamboo baskets. At all seasons, there stood an unfaltering temple next to the house where occasional gatherings occurred for religious discourses. There was a shaman, regarded as next to God, who treated all the diseases and kept so many super natural beings in good humour. Completing the cycle were the corpses, being whisked towards the river Amochu, for cremation. This was the entire world I thought!

2.     A new world discovered

At the age of 12 in 1974, my father along with few hundred villagers escorted me  across Amochhu, Sanguri and after two days of bare feet walk, to a completely new world of paved roads, electricity, and automobiles.That evening I got the first haircut by a barber, got first pair of slippers (chappals), and a trouser – only to be complimented by a new piece of terry- cotton shirt that was to come next day as a Soelra, from none other than the fourth Druk Gyelpo. Yes! the crowd from all over the places gathered on the ground, the first ever big crowd I saw in life, to hear the remarkable voice of young monarch through a miraculous voice amplifier (mike) and to get a glimpse of the most handsome leader of the world.

3.     Gold Medal

This was the second convocation at the peak of learning- Sherubtse. I was honored with the Jigme Wangchuck Gold Medal for Excellence in character and studies. During the recess that day in April 2008, my mentor, Father Leclaire put his arm across my shoulder and said that it was the decision of the entire faculty and I should live up to their expectations. I was overwhelmed and equally felt the weight of the responsibility I was to shoulder now.

4.     In Japan

On one of the few foreign visits, I, one day in March 2003, landed in Osaka. Overwhelmed by the opportunity, I spent almost 10 sleepless nights trying to get best out of the experience of travelling by remarkably punctual trains, the unbelievably clean streets, extremely disciplined and hard working people and of course scores of events of the Third World Water Forum.

5.     Yet another Convocation

My wife Tulsa, our two sons, Arun and Suraj joined me in my PhD convocation in a small hilly station of Shillong in North east India. On that lovely autumn night we rejoiced the joint achievement over a family dinner in a great old palace standing over the Shillong peak.

6.     A Teacher’s Day at Sherubtse 

This was my 16^th year being on the faculty at Sherubtse. Accidentally the leadership of the college had fallen on me for a very brief period. The entire student body came together to honour all the hundred odd faculty members and showered us with praises. 

7.     Touched by my King

I was one of the thousands Bhutanese witnessing the Coronation ceremony of the Druk Gyelpo Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck at Changlimithang in December 2008. The young monarch walked slowly across, talking, smiling and touching the people and made a momentary stop in front of me. He put his gracious hands on my shoulder preventing me from getting up and kindly asked, ‘where are you now?’ I was chocked with joy and only could say, ‘I am the Dean at the Royal Thimphu College”.  His Majesty then caressed my balding head basked in the sun and kindly remarked, “Have you applied the sunscreen? It may hurt you later. Thank you for coming (to the function)”. 

I could ask for no more.