Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Triple Five...Continued.

I could have been one of the dullest pupils for I was promoted to class five with just “CP”, meaning Considered Pass. I got chance to continue my study any way.

It was in 1987; I was in class five, section-B. Yeshi Sir, a new teacher in the school was my class teacher. He taught us English. He was a voracious reader himself and would narrate lots of stories from his readings to us in the class. Of all the stories I heard from him, I’ll never forget the one – about Gasa Lamai Singye. Around that time my class teacher got entangled in love with a woman from the nearby village and this was one reason what motivated him to narrate such a great love story in the class that took almost a month to end. And when it ended, he announced his marriage with that village woman.

Yeshi Sir was a great teacher. He would always keep us busy – make us read books, draw and paint, and go through games and activities that helped us build our learning capability.
One morning, he walked in late to the class. As he entered, his hands were loaded with chart papers, bundles of paint brushes and pencils, and packets of water colours and crayons. He carefully placed these materials on his table and announced, “My dear boys and girls, today there is an announcement in the Kuensel newspaper about an art competition on nature. Therefore, we shall do drawings and paintings in the class and best entries shall be sent for the competition.”

Monday, November 28, 2011

On loosing a virginity


One Friday evening, I was on my way home after attending to my students’ queries on reproductive systems in the class. A chapter on reproductive system always kept me awake when I was myself a student. Today’s students’ are no different; I had lots of questions from my students, which had me extended hours of teaching that evening.

It was a pleasant summer evening. Walking past football field towards my home located on a hilltop always reminded me of my days here in Monggar High School, twenty years ago. The corner where Rinzin, Sherub and I used to spend Saturday nights over a bottle of ara still had thick bushy grasses. I could imagine the trio sitting and gossiping under the influence of ara while the full moon cruised silently in the clouds above.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Embroidery is yet another form of Art

I always love to choose the toughest subject and land up not completing it. Here is one such work of mine.


When I was little boy, I saw one of my uncles play with thread and needles and come up with beautiful intricate designs of flowers and objects. It's nothing but an art of embroidery, that we call it "Tshemdu" in our language. I tried out a dragon - one of the most sought after subjects of artists in our part of the world.
This Tshemdru was initiated long time back on my old and unusable "Gong". It got my finishing touch very recently.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

My first journey to School...Contd.


Once in a while, in a life time, everyone tend to lose their way often travelling all alone. This is the time when one gets an opportunity to exercise one’s own reasoning – the power of intuition that everyone is bestowed upon with. Life otherwise would be dull, had there not been any jigsaw puzzles that puts our intuitions to test. And my intuition brought me back to the bosom of my loving mother.

Hours of gradual descent along thick chirpine forests took us to a stream – Tsharzam Chhu that ultimately joined the roaring bubbles of Kuri Chhu few meters below our foot path. With scorching sun above our head it was already time for lunch.
As we approached the stream, “Boys come along with me, we’ll go and fetch some firewood,” Aku Tshering lead us to the confluence. Other members proceeded through the path to prepare the halt place. The river banks weren’t in dearth of such woods. It had woods piled in a hay-wire fashion. To grab a bundle each had not been a problem for us.
On our return, my eyes caught hold of a young plant by the side of the river bank drooping with heavy fruits on it. It was an Amla tree. On a long journey, Amla serves a dual purpose of quenching thirst as well as hunger. No wonder Amla is one of the prized ingredients in traditional medicines since time immemorial.
“It’s ripe. Let me take some for the group to munch before our lunch gets cooked,” and I pulled out a branch, plucked a handful and slid them into my gho. Before I could collect enough of it my friends were all gone.
“Which way did they go?” I wondered. With my ears troubled with constant loud noise of rapids, tracing the sound of their footsteps or conversations had not been possible.
There was a path leading up and I took that with bundle of woods in my arms.
I climbed up and up. There was no sign of any halt place or the group.
“A little more up and you are there,” I assured myself.