As I stooped down to untie my shoe lace, “Apa…Apa, tha godcho ley,” (Father look here in Sharchop language) Dechog, my elder daughter blocked my sight placing a piece of paper with scribbles on it. I didn’t care. I removed my shoes and carefully placed them in our newly bought shoe rack. My daughter disappeared in a moment.
Usually after the monotonous office hours, nothing interests me than a quiet and peaceful rest for a while. I took over a corner, picked up the remote control and browsed through TV programs. Except for those regular Hindi serials there weren’t any interesting programs to watch.
“Duud…dudh,” my wife was busy weaving my gho in the altar room. Despite her busy nursing schedules, she persisted on to it for last couple of months. Room otherwise looked deserted. I was beginning to feel lonely with no one near me.
“Dechog! Rigzin!” I called out my daughters, “Where are you?” There was no answer.
“Yipha cha gidu ni,” (They must be sleeping in Sharchop language) it was my wife from the other room.
I slowly walked to our bedroom. There on the bed, my Dechog was busy scribbling something on her notebook with the left hand while her tender hair randomly spread over the shoulder covering the face. I tip-toed towards her and peeped through her hairs and saw few English alphabets scribbled haphazardly. By then I had gone too close to her. She felt my breath and looked up at once. Her face blushed suddenly and not knowing what to do she extended both her hands still holding that book and said proudly, “Tha godcho ley, jigi dribey sencha na,” (See here, now I know how to write in Sharchop language).
“Giwala good girl, onen dribey kheley ni,” (Yes good girl you should write like that in Sharchop language) I further encouraged her.
This has been happening ever since I confirmed her PP admission in one of the private schools here in Thimphu. It was a surprise to see sudden change in her. Since then I always found her busy writing ABCD. Sometimes she would snatch away my pen when I return from my work and drain out whole ink in it writing bold alphabets.
I shared this to my wife that evening while only two of us were cooking in the kitchen. There was yet another surprise when my wife said, “Yes she has changed. I told her if she wanted to go to school, she needs to know how to write ABC.”
I stared on her face, “But do you think it is proper to instill fear in her at this age?”
“I don’t know. She has to learn anyhow,” replied my wife.
“Yes she should.”
“A for apple, B for banana…” came in Dechog still holding book and pen, “Apa ngalu banana nangmey,” (Father give me banana please in Dzongkha).
So this is it. Be it right or wrong she is learning day by day. She keeps herself busy while others are on holidays.