Weaving Life's Pieces

Life to Us? We to Life?

2011-09-14T06:21:00.002-04:00

Which of these two questions? What does life have to offer us? Or, what do we have to offer life?

I think it’s both, but probably more of the latter. There’s so much in life that we can make the most of, and there is so much in us that we can make of life.

We sometimes tend to talk about life as though it were a ready-made object to hold or throw away. The breath is in us; so is the heart and the mind; these are what we can use to make of life. Why do we waste our breath in unimportant talks…our minds in useless thoughts…and our hearts in desperate feelings? Why can’t we breathe positive energy through positive talks, thoughts and feelings? I often wonder…but the irony of my wondering about this is my own negativity.

Why is it that we have likes and dislikes? Why can’t we just learn to like someone or something? For instance, if we do not like the Director, either we want to leave the organization or wish the Director would leave. Is there really such a thing as a bad manager/leader or is it a creation of our own minds? Is it our own disgusting reflection we see in the person? Will the reflection change when a new director joins? Or, are we going to still dislike the person but from a different angle? Our own reflection, after all!

Kinda tricky…the many kinds of lives we live in one lifetime. The life of an employee. The life of a spouse. The life of a parent. The life of a son/daughter. The life of a friend. The life of an office colleague. The life of a citizen. And so on.

Are these lives we make, or lives we take as offered? Is it having to cope with these many lives that’s a problem? Imagine the demand on human capacity to live so many lives! How do we strike a balance?

I’ve read about some successful people and it’s usually personal success the books talk about. “I dreamt, ran after my dream and that’s how I am where I am.” When you read into the depth of the person’s life, you discover at what or whose expense this person has gained success. There may be materialistic gains, but at the same time loss of happiness of being with one’s family. You may be a CEO, but your very dear friend cannot come anywhere near you and you miss friendship. You may be living in a palatial home of your own surrounded by a tall fence and you feel you have earned the luxury you yearned, but you may be lonely at heart with no friends visiting you and you not able to visit friends. You feel you need the security of a concrete structure, but in actual fact when you’re in trouble it is friends and relatives that you need. Where is the balance?

Life somehow has many good things in store for us, but we tend to choose to offer nothing to life. We keep expecting…and are never satisfied. I think that’s because we do not really make good use of our breath, mind and heart. We think we’re using them, but in actual fact we are static. We wait for offers, do nothing much, and then complain that life is disappointing.

I say life needs to be breathed into. Life needs to be worked on with our minds. Life needs to be felt with our hearts.

We need to offer to life as much as life has to offer to us. Nothing is ready-made. To think so is to be static and static is boring.

I think our perspective of life needs to change…what do you think?

Thinking of Authentic Education

2011-05-28T03:35:00.001-04:00

The clouds are frowning as I sit on my bed with this laptop on my lap. There is no breeze, for sure. I see no movement of tree leaves or prayer flags. The air so still. Kinda scary.

There is a lot of noise, though. Children playing...running around...screaming. Adults arguing...shouting. Construction works all around. Household chores vibrating through the floor above, down my ceiling. Cars starting. Cars moving. Machines doing their business. My table clock ticking. Sadly, no sound of water running. The source for our area has dried up.

It's lunch time and I'm not hungry. I had too many cups of tea. I've been contemplating on a lot of things.

What does it mean to be innovative in education? Do we mean reform for improvement or radical changes..revolution? What does the shift to democracy in our country mean for the education of our children?

I'm looking at assessment based study findings and wondering why our children have not understood the basic concepts in the subjects of English, Math and Science. I'm thinking we live math and science every day of our lives and yet we do not understand math and science. I'm telling myself we are applying math when we use proportions of ingredients for cooking or chop wood to reasonable sizes or share food, yet we do not understand measurement or ratios or fractions. I'm telling myself we boil water, prepare wine at home, prepare cheese and butter, cultivate our land and yet we do not understand science.

Is it because we do math and science in our local languages at home and learn them in English in school?

Or, is it because we do not bring the every day real life math and science into the classroom?

Our political system and governance have turned democratic, but we remain undemocratic in the way we function. We wait for instructions. We do as instructed or directed. We are unhappy if our bosses do not instruct or direct us. We do not recognize autonomy, forget about using it. We talk about problems or shortfalls, but wait to be told what to do. We talk about empowerment, but we do not empower ourselves. Our children are still listening to what their teachers tell them. Our children are not engaged in thinking for themselves. Our teachers still like to dictate to our children, so do parents.

We are robotic in many ways and most times it is because we choose to do business as usual. We believe in ideas and practices that are not relevant anymore. We adopt ideas and practices from places that have nothing in common with us except for human rights. We talk about standards based education, yet what we value in life is different in different countries. The common thread, of course, is the economy. We need economy for social services, yet the sources of our economy could vary across countries. Industry in our country would not mean the same or be of the same scale as industry in other countries.

So, it makes sense to have education reflect what we really value in life...what matters to our society...our nation...and what progress in our context entails. Need we do everything of what others do? On the other hand, need we make uniqueness our objective? Perhaps, yes. Our niche handicraft products would be an example of uniqueness contributing to our economy in big ways - Low Volume, High Value. While in terms of energy consumption, we might choose to rely on solar energy. We might adopt eco-friendly technology.

Being an educator, the education of our children is at the heart of all concerns in my life. Many of us educators at heart have no voice or place or the resources to exhibit what is good for education. We have been on a journey of education reform for a long long time. All that we think of is improvement, but what we really need is revolution...big changes...innovations. We need AUTHENTIC EDUCATION.....not Global Education or even Western Education.

The answer is perhaps in our philosophy of GROSS NATIONAL HAPPINESS.

Do we rise up to the occasion or with the occasion? The choice is for us to make.

What went wrong?

2011-05-15T07:16:00.000-04:00

I had posted a new blog entry that was titled 'Nature - What is it?'

What went wrong?

It was there one moment and the next minute gone.

I also lost a comment on my earlier post 'Moments - Perceptions. (I didn't do it. Just happened...don't know how...)

Moments - Perceptions

2011-05-11T12:09:00.003-04:00

There is so much I want to write about...all swimming in my head and almost drowning in my heart. What do I choose to write eventually? For whom? Myself? Bloggers? Acquaintances? Friends? Politicians? Men? Women? Youth? The World? Some Spiritual Beings? Those gone? Those yet to come? Those oscillating between life and death? Those living? Those dying?

Or, perhaps no one in particular....just anybody...and yet everybody.

One moment there's light at the end of the tunnel. Next moment, a train is racing towards me and I hardly have time to move away. I'm stuck. My feet feel glued to the ground. I imagine my body shattering into bloody pieces and then there's only blood...nothing of me.

And then, there are moments when fruit trees are abloom all around me. The birds are chirping happily and it feels like they are talking to me. I feel like I could talk back to them. I feel like I could fly like them and perch myself on a branch, looking pretty and happy. My tail feathers dancing crazily. My beak wiping itself to glory against the hardness of the branch. It doesn't hurt. There's no pain.

Then, there are you, me and they. We are together, yet we are unconnected. We are human, yet inhumane. We rush all day, yet the night isn't restful either. With the first cup of tea in the early hours of the morning sets in the first pangs of anxiety of what might happen or might not happen. What will be or will not be. What they will think or will not think. Unending pangs of anxiety. The blood pressure rising higher by the minute.

Whatever...

What is to happen...happens, it seems. Call it destiny. Call it fate. Call it God's will. Call it the devil's wish. Call it what we may...there is no certainty to anything we say or think or feel. Everything is a perception. Some perhaps hallucinations. A little bit of insanity. In some sense creativity.

Therefore, we are creative by nature and we should applaud ourselves for that. But, just like the cat killing curiosity, there is something that kills our creativity and our life is stunted. We grow no more.

We go round and round the mulberry bush...yet we dare to dream of development and progress. So, we are daring too.

If only...the daring and creativity held hands and walked together along the beach of the calm sea...we could take ourselves to heights unreached by birds, unmatched by mountains and unconquered by airplanes and rockets.

We would still be human, however, humane even when moments continue to be perceptions.

Misconceptions

2011-04-25T23:53:00.000-04:00

Hey! Check out these misconceptions? Are our children learning with understanding?

Cooking Papa's Way

2011-04-19T06:58:00.000-04:00

4:00 A.M. That was the time Dawa woke up every morning of the winter vacation she spent at home with her father during her schooling days. No use of alarms, mind you.

She poured some water to a portion of milk powder and boiled the mixture for exactly five minutes. The milk for her father's bed tea was ready. He disliked direct mixing of the milk powder in his tea and God forbid if the milk were not prepared the way he had instructed!

After a carefully measured portion of tea leaves had been soaked in boiled water for some time, she poured the tea into her father's special Chinese mug and stirred a tea spoonful of sugar. The bed tea was the alarm for her father to wake up. The tea quality was neither of the Oja of western Bhutan nor of the strong Indian brewed tea.

8:00 A.M. That was the time for breakfast. Another cup of meticulously prepared tea for her father. Some parathas too. Use of cooking oil forbidden...only amul butter. The prepartion involved pressing on all sides of the neatly flattened triangle shaped roti with a large spoon. One can imagine the state of the fingers with the heat from the pan by the time the preparation was over. Poor Dawa.

12:00 noon. That was the time for lunch. The rice prepared in a special manner too. First, wash thoroughly. Next, pour the washed rice gently portion by portion into another pot and so on at least three times to ensure every small piece of stone had been removed before cooking. When ready to be cooked, pour just enough water...such that it is all absorbed by the rice and there is no need to throw away any of the starchy water. A few more minutes of cooking by the steam inside the pot while on simmer on the gas stove and the rice is almost ready to be stirred and poured. But...before that, another few minutes with the lid closed. Try cooking in the usual old style of throwing away of the starchy water in the villages and her father would know...somehow. Must be the taste he had gotten so used to that he could differentiate the less tasty rice cooked in the old ordinary way. (Well, we're talking about the time when rice cookers did not exist.)

There surely had to be some green chillies in any curry that was prepared. Dawa remembered the chillies were mostly of the Indian type. Too hot for her father's taste. So, here's what she had to do. First, loosen every single chilly rolling it gently with the finger tips. Next, cut each chilly into two halves and put them all in a container. Pour water and rinse as many times as required to ensure the insides of the chillies were all washed away. The curry had to have green chillies, but Dawa had to make sure the curry wouldn't get hot and annoy her father.

Mixed fresh vegetables was her father's favourtite. As many varieties of vegetables as possible to get from the market and mix them all. Rule No.1 - No water was to be added. It was believed the water from the vegetables would be enough to get the vegetables adequately cooked. Rule No.2 - No cooking oil was to be used. Only Amul butter. The pot of vegetables had to be picked from time to time and shaken up...tossing the vegetables...till the water had all dried up and the butter gave a delicious glossy look to every single piece of vegetable in the pot.

4:00 P.M. That was the time for evening tea. The preparation involved the same procedure as the morning one. Sometimes, a well beaten egg would serve the purpose of milk and the tea would still be tea. Amazing!

As I Stood

2011-04-17T06:35:00.002-04:00

The angry clouds in shades of dirty white to dark grey;

The sun slowly sinking behind them;

Standing proud and tall the 16-flat yellow building.

Loud sounds of construction from afar,

Blending with the chirps of little children.

My head swimming with strange thoughts about Education,

While my heart in silence beating rhythmically;

My lips dry from the summer heat waves;

My feet all bare and swollen from standing too long.

A sudden gush of winds,

Scattering the litter on the road;

My mind awakened by the eerie sound.

No trace of the wind;

Education...education...education,

Gone astray with the visiting winds!

All...as I stood on a patch of green pavement.

The Downfall of Intelligence

2010-08-14T09:24:00.008-04:00

There he was. Tall, dark and lean. His ever curious eyes peeping through the steel rimmed glasses. Tashi walked across the conference room with the same old assurance, his body leaning forward slightly.

The most noticeable was the once intelligent face hidden behind a mask of scaly layer of blackish skin. It was the cruelty of being consumed by alcohol, although he took pride in the belief that he was the consumer rather than the consumed. Cruelty visited him in many other forms. One was the missing front teeth that made him look almost 60. It made Dema wonder if Tashi had had his share of good youthful times, like every man is known to boast about. If not, what a shameful waste! She thought.

Tashi got busy with his laptop. The latest sony brand, Dema noticed. His hands trembled as he took it out from its bag and settled it on the beautiful Bhutanese design coffee table.

"I want to show you'll something," he said, as he looked around for a plug hole.

"Here's one," called out Nirula.

Very quickly, a few of Tashi's friends helped him arrange an LCD projector from the resort. The popular Jamyang Resort, offering the splendid night view of Thimphu Town. The equipment was finally set up. Tashi sat on a chair looking pretty impatient. Dema guessed he was eager to show his friends what he had prepared. (No one knew what, at that point)

Tashi's friends were all seated around the conference table covered with a plain white cloth. Mineral water bottle invitingly standing tall between two empty glasses turned upside down in front of each one of them. Dema's throat-ache compelled her to look away from the tempting cold water, but how could she ignore the strange feeling of dryness in her mouth?

"Please get me some hot water," Dema asked one of the hotel waitresses.

Tashi's friends had been waiting almost an hour for another friend, who was kind of special for being in a higher status than the rest of them gathered there. He wasn't known to be intelligent those school days, but there he was enjoying status and power with absolute ease. He lived in a luxurious bungalow, where his classmates were invited to dinner. His happiness was clearly written all over his face. He must've wanted to share the joy with his friends and, indeed, the dinner gathering was a great moment of happiness for all of them. He pleasantly surprised all of them by presenting to each one of them a set of very old black and white class photographs. Dema noticed that the girls had their hair very short (Bhutanese cut, they used to say), with half the ears showing and the front hair running straight across the forehead above the eyebrows. How they hated it! They thought it made them look old fashioned and ugly.

In contrast to the bungalow friend, there was the tall, dark and lean friend - once known to be one of the most intelligent in the class; now having succumbed to 'something' that they were yet to discover. Either his every day socializing quota had blown to uncontrollable volume by natural course, or he had begun to depend too heavily on it with so much emptiness inside of him to fill up. Whatever the reason, it wasn't obvious.

He cracked intelligent jokes, as always. He spoke with wisdom, as always. He aired his wittiness, as always. Nothing much different about him, except his physical self. What a pity! Handsomeness reduced to something no less than the looks of charcoal. With the girls, he would always keep a great distance. It was never understood why. Nobody was bothered by that, anyways. Dema remembered him turning in the opposite direction and running the instant he saw a girl coming. Today, he appeared a changed man in the way he talked to the ladies in poetic expressions, describing the geography of a woman's body that he claimed to be somebody else's words. What was going on in his mind? What were behind those smiles? How Dema wished to figure out... if only she could make it her business.

Their long awaited special classmate arrived at last. He had been busy at a meeting and that too on a blessed Sunday. There was a shake of hands and exchange of faint smiles. Everybody was actually ready to go back home. Dema's throat was getting worse by the minute.

"You're one hour late!" remarked one of the ladies, very boldly.

That was Sonam - one of the tougher ladies in the class. She had been one of the more intelligent ones too those school days. Both she and Dema were very fond of mathematics and particularly the lessons by their most favourite teacher, Reverand Father Robert. Both of them imagined they would become doctors. Sonam ended up a housewife with a part time job of tutoring and Dema ended up between trying to be a good mother and an efficient working woman. Neither of the two intelligent girls gained any status or power... ever. They just went about their business as usual. The fortunate thing is nothing snapped inside of them to ever make them lose hope and succumb to the dreadful power of alcohol or drug. Were they to be grateful for that? Could't tell yet. There were many more miles to travel. There was much more to see of the world. If there were such a thing as destiny, then waiting seemed like the only option.

"Hey! Come on! You can't shout at the Minister for being late," remarked Nirula, jokingly, of course.

The conference suddenly came alive with a roar of laughter. Dema's hot water arrived in a special Chinese mug that she quickly placed under the table, for fear of appearing disrespectful in front of the man of status and power. Their very own Honourable Member of Parliament, Devendra.

"OK, Tashi. Let's begin," the Minister announced and there was silence all of a sudden, as if cast by a spell.

On the screen appeared some text and the title was related to alcoholism. Tashi began to read out what he had worked on at the hospital, on the suggestion of a lady psychiatrist. It was about the initial days of his drinking, which he said were during school times in the rural setting of Kanglung. He said it all began as pleasurable trips, while for the rural people it was a great source of income. His friends waited for him to come to the part when he had begun to exceed his normal quota, hoping to learn what had driven him to it. That part wasn't included in the write up he was sharing with his anxious friends. They couldn't even find a way of reading between the lines. Just as they were showing impatience, he muttered that he realized he had become an alcoholic when he started hiding and drinking. The curiosity of his friends remained unquenched. They still didn't get to understand what exactly led him to that state. He deliberately remained silent on that. It was perhaps left up to the group to read between the lines. It was understandable, given his nature of being highly 'independent.' What mattered to him the most was his office work. He hardly had time for family and friends. Distant. Cold. That's how he appeared to his classmates... most of the time. If not so, perhaps they could've detected some signs and prevented him from falling.

His falling into that state was indeed the downfall of intelligence itself. And, not having maintained that bonding with family and friends, it became difficult to connect to one another. Tashi's friends failed to connect with him that afternoon.

But, of course, it was a mirthful afternoon. Everybody laughed to heart's content. Everybody played sudo, drinking tea or coffee or cool soft drinks and eating yummy chocolates brought by Yangden. No alcohol!!!

As the clock struck 6 PM, Tashi mumbled that he had to get back to the hospital for his medicine. His friends hugged him and wished him speedy recovery. It was hard to tell what their being there meant to him, but his agreeing to come said a lot. They hoped he left with the assurance in his heart that they were there for him, to provide the moral support that they were aware he would deny being in need of.

Dema returned home that evening with the thought that intelligence did not necessarily reign in the real world. Later that night, Dema ended up at the hospital emergency with excruciating pain in her throat and tears running down her cheeks. At that point, swallowing any bit of saliva had also become extremely difficult.

"If only I had listened to my head that warned me to leave earlier that afternoon," she thought to herself. "Instead, I foolishly listened to my stupid heart that felt compassion and enjoyed the occasion filled with laughter."

Tashi had probably been trapped in the like manner, bringing the downfall of the glorified reign of intelligence.

It's Everybody's Business!

2010-06-20T02:54:00.001-04:00

The month of June has been overly hectic. First, having to switch off suddenly from what I had been doing upto Mid May. Second, having to re-familiarize myself with the familiar-turned-unfamiliar field of Education - by reading voraciously and consulting with colleagues! I'm fortunate to have a team of enthusiasts - that makes leading easier and fun.

My newly acquired line of work hasn't been easy; not that I expected it to be so. Challenges are there to remain, perhaps for a long time, with more to come as we move on with our work. Our nature of work is such. So long as people cling on to their ego, our work will be viewed suspiciously. For us to be successful, we need openness – not only from other stakeholders but also from ourselves towards others. I guess it’ll take time for us to become open, but become we must!

I believe Education is everybody's business. It is the core of success of individuals and success of a country's economy. It is Education that can lift families out of poverty. It is Education that can make positive societies and cultures. It is Education that can develop good politicians and leaders. It is Education that can facilitate building of good systems.

Building of a good education system is the business of all stakeholders - children, parents, communities, civil society, local and central government, the cabinet, the parliament, teachers, teacher educators, educational institutes and research bodies. This common mission provides scope for collaboration among all stakeholders, yet we leave it to just the Ministry of Education to battle its way through challenges that are of the nation as a whole and to bear the brunt of Education not showing success. And, on the part of the Ministry of Education there must never be this feeling that they are the sole contributors to the building of a good education system. They must reach out to all other stakeholders. Territorialism and protectionism are not relevant anymore. They might have been so when our country felt threatened between the two giant countries of China to the north and India to the south. We are way past that age of severe insecurity - not to say that we are totally secure now. What I'm referring to is 'openness' within. If we must grow in our economy as a member of the globalized world, we must open up to qualities of good education systems in other parts of the world without having to make our ‘developing’ status an excuse (as we tend to). Lack of resources is not the issue, but rather lack of capacity for wise utilization of resources. The question is: Are we investing wisely? Are we thinking investment in Education is a waste? If we are thinking so, it's because we view investment returns as short term results. We focus on showing accomplishment in a long list of activities and outputs and we still find ourselves moaning and groaning, not realizing that people's capacity and lives have not been impacted.

It's not the number of schools nor the school infrastructure that have an impact on people's capacity. It's the quality of teaching and the quality of learning. Education in school is a joint venture between the teacher and the child. Education at home is a joint venture between the parent and the child. Every environment that a child lives in is an opportunity for education, therefore important that the environment is positive and that every child develops the meta cognition to educate themselves at every available opportunity. What's becoming increasingly significant in a rapidly changing age of information is the capacity of individuals to keep "learning, unlearning and relearning" (as qualified by Alvin Toffler, of literacy in the 21st century).

Our transformation into a democracy is evidential of our acceptance of democratic principles and processes. One of our most immediate tasks is education in democracy (calling for major changes at the school level) and one of the quickest ways is to allow students in school to live democracy by reorganizing the school system. We already have some good news on this, with schools adopting the system of voting for the school leaders among the students this year. I hope the students knew why they were voting for whoever they voted. This is what's more important than the pressing of the electoral button. This calls for 'critical thinking' ability - to make individuals owners of their own decisions. They need not be told (dictated) who to vote for or be manipulated into voting for somebody they're not well informed about. Dependence on dictation comes from the traditional system of learning that hardly provides any opportunity to the child to engage in higher order thinking - analysis, evaluation, problem solving and creation. We can learn from the experiences of other countries that promote development of these skills.

I think we need local problem solvers and innovators. I am of the opinion that we have depended for too long on external experts and have at times landed ourselves into trouble with adopted systems not working in our context. We ourselves breed the thought that we can never have experts from within. In other words, we hardly trust ourselves to do what we entitle outsiders to do and gain ownership over, as if it were no longer our business but theirs. If our country must preserve ownership (or copyright) over the locally born GNH ideology, we must produce local innovators to take this ideology forward in a manner best suited to our local needs and beliefs. It is embarrassing enough when we have Buddhist convert foreigners come into our country and preach us on Buddhism. There’s of course much to learn from them. First and foremost is their enthusiasm for learning about Buddhism and making it their business to spread the teachings even among the Buddhists by birth! I would like to see more Bhutanese Buddhists going around the world talking about Buddhism. I personally feel proud that great Bhutanese Buddhist Masters like Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpochhe and Buddhist scholars like Khenpo Karma Phuntshok are renowned world over for their great work in Buddhism that entails not only preservation but also modernization and spread of awareness.

I think we need local experts in agriculture, economics, scientific technology and traditional vocations (e.g. weaving; pottery; mask making; carpentry; engineering structures like our dzongs, monasteries, chhortens and bridges). It seems ridiculous to have road experts from another country where there is no sign of mountains or rugged terrain like there is in Bhutan. It is ironical to trust these people to advise us on building roads!!! We do not realize this because we lack critical thinking!

It is equally ridiculous to have experts from liberal economic systems and consumerist societies advising us on GNH! We must instead advise others on this! It makes me proud that our country has somebody like Dasho Karma Ura to go as a GNH expert to other countries. It would indeed be embarrassing if we had westerners come to our country as GNH experts! We can, of course, have common forums like seminars, conferences and workshops to share thinking on the topic. We’ve had several of such forums already. I believe it keeps the idea alive at least, while our country is working out actions that can bring about GNH impact. My personal hope is that the emphasis on ‘gross’ will not deprive the poorer sections of the society of opportunities to achieve their personal dreams, with the rich becoming richer and the poor showing no signs of improvement. This is what I foresee happening if we equate happiness with contentment or complacency.

My current field of work (Research in Education) is intended to contribute innovations in education. I hope we can be a good partner to the Ministry of Education in building an admirable citizenry – adept with the knowledge, skills and disposition for making democracy live a healthy life in our country and GNH a Dream Come True for the nation, in addition to Happiness for All Individuals. I also hope we can have other stakeholders on board to make the mission of building a good education system possible.

Let’s make Education work for us! We must! We can! We need not be dependent forever! We can be the developers of our own individual selves and of the nation!

Back Home

2010-05-30T11:09:00.004-04:00

I think I had mentioned in one of my earlier posts that I hated nine to five jobs, and here I am back to one. It is a case of both chance and choice. This has happened after six years of mobility from one thing to another and not getting anywhere in particular. I was trying a bit too hard to be a good free lancer in a world of competition of luck and wit rather than intellectuals or professionals with the drive for excellence. Simultaneously, I imagined I would have a training institute or CSO of my own and I found myself competing unconsciously with people who were born on a golden platter and fed with a spoon of gold.

My free lancing experience was nevertheless enriching, while my imagination taught me to think creatively. The learning I've had in these past years is something I could have not had in twenty years if I had adhered to 'business as usual.' So, do I regret not having been in a nine to five job? Of course not! Am I sad to be back into it? Certainly not!

Why am I not sad? Well, first of all I am in a field (Education) that I am most passionate about (besides dancing ). Second, it offers opportunities for inhibited research work and innovations. I never enjoyed 'doing as instructed to do' - one of the reasons 'fitting in' has been a major problem for me most times. Chamchagiri has never ever received any acknowledgment or recognition in my dictionary and I sympathize with those people I know who chamcha-d and are suffering today from not getting the lift they once got from hardly achieving anything extraordinary. Lesson: Chamchagiri is unreliable in helping us sustain ourselves. Better to build our own capacity and capitalize on that and we would have no cause for severe concerns. My all time advice: Belong with others harmoniously, but never to the point of losing yourself. Shortcuts are short, after all, and cannot really get us far enough. This is my personal belief.

Being back in the field of education makes me feel like I'm 'back home.' I wonder if this is how it is with our people who have travelled to the far west with big dreams. Do they feel they're back home when they get back? I'm sure they do. I've travelled too, although not privately, and never felt at home anywhere else but here in our home country. The fresh air.....the greenery......the miles of wilderness in the east......the caring village hosts.......the people's innocence........all these put together can never ever be matched by other places. And, in a world of great uncertainties due to global warming Bhutan truly feels like haven. Exactly so in the world of consultancy here - full of uncertainties! So, yes, being back into a nine to five job in my field of expertise feels like being in haven. There will be challenges, as there were before, and this is what's going to make the job even more enticing, like driving along our bumpy roads is.

So, here I am. Back home. It feels good. Warm. Batteries recharged....... and rechargeable.

The doctor's signature

2010-05-22T08:03:00.005-04:00

I was at the hospital today to get a medical certificate. The last time I had to get one was in 1993, so I had no idea where I was supposed to go and what I was supposed to do. Luckily for me, I met a friend doctor. I learned that I had to go to the top floor. At the door, a notice read "Medical Certificate at 11:00 AM" and it wasn't even 10:00 when I got there. I walked in, nevertheless, to inquire about the medical certificate in case I misunderstood the notice. The lady at the table said rudely and with a frowned look, "11 o'clock!!!" I thought to myself that it served me right for not paying heed to the notice. After all, I am literate and supposed to know how to read, right?

Since there was plenty of time left and my husband and I were hungry, we went to a restaurant nearby and enjoyed coffee, suja, toast and puri with mushroom daatsi. The first things that a waiter brought to our table were two cups of coffee. We asked, "Why two cups of coffee and no suja?" The waiter was surprised we said we hadn't asked for two cups of coffee. After some exchange of words we realized our double coffee was understood as 'two cups' rather than 'one large cup.' Perhaps, we should have said 'large.' The waiter went back to get me my suja and she asked if she should take back one of the cups of coffee. I explained to her the difference between 'double' and 'two' with respect to orders like this. At the end of it all, I realized I had yet again acted the teacher I was at heart. The funny thing is I myself ended up getting confused between 'double' and 'large.'

Back at the hospital, I was surprised I had to pay 15 bucks for the medical certificate form. The lady at the counter explained that I needed to fill in the first two lines and then go to Chamber No.4 for signature. Filling in the form was easy, but getting the signature wasn't. At the door of Chamber 4 was a notice that read "Signing of Medical Certificates after 1:00 PM. To bring citizenship ID and other relevant documents." There were about two hours left. I ran to a shop nearby and got photocopies of my ID. I ran back to an information desk nearby the counters where we get our medicines. I asked the lady at the counter what documents were required to get the medical certificate signed. She said there was no need for any documents. The doctor just signs the paper. I said the notice at the door of Chamber Four informs the signing will happen only after 1:00 PM and that there's a long queue. She said I could go to chamber 19 next to the canteen and I happily rushed upstairs. The chamber was big but almost empty. Somebody looking like a doctor was sitting in front of a computer close to the door. He very kindly asked what I wanted and I told him that I was told I could get my medical certificate signed by a doctor in that chamber. He said the doctor was attending a meeting and that I could get it signed at the emergency as well. This meant I had to walk to the new building and I was already exhausted from running around like a mad woman... in search of nothing and no one.

When I got to the emergency area, there were a few people standing in line outside the door to the doctor's consulting room. As I stood there waiting for a chance to go in, I saw a young model type girl in stilettos bring in another girl who was walking in pain. She looked very ill and could barely hold herself together. I asked the others in line if they were waiting for a check up and two of them said they were waiting for their patients who were already inside with the doctor. One other said nothing and didn't look as though she needed immediate consulting with the doctor. The next minute she walks in and waits and I guessed it was to make sure she got her chance next. I couldn't bear to see the girl in such terrible pain, so I walked in and interrupted the doctor very politely. I asked if the girl could lie down for a while on the couch in his office as she was serious. The doctor said very rudely, "If you think she's serious, you can take her down there!" He didn't even bother to get up from his chair to take a look at what I was talking about, nor to show where 'down there' we were supposed to take the girl. I walked towards the security guard at the entrance door and asked where the girl could be taken and he guided them along the hallway to the right.

I then started wondering if this doctor would bother to sign my medical certificate and the thought of seeing his face again was a painful thought. Nevertheless, I stood patiently outside the door. Just then somebody in a doctor's attire walked in to the chamber and then walked out in a jiffy. I stopped him and asked if he was a doctor and he said he was. I showed him my medical certificate and asked if he could sign on it. He very kindly signed on it and advised us to go back to the office where we got the form from for the hospital seal. My objective of visiting the hospital that day was fulfilled.

As I passed by the consulting room happily with my signed certificate in my hand, I saw the girl in terrible pain inside getting checked by the undoctorly doctor. I felt happier.

My belief that Koenchhogsum is with those who wish well for others was confirmed yet again. I claim that Sangay or Guru Rinpochhe came in the guise of the other doctor. The thing to think about is that the guard had told me earlier there was only one doctor on duty at the emergency.

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Having said all that, I can't help wondering what the whole purpose of the medical certificate is to those agencies who ask for it, when there is no authenticity to it. I had thought such certificates were meant to assure the agencies that we didn't have any serious or dangerously contagious health problems. All that we were doing was paying for the form and getting a doctor's signature that perhaps we could consider to have been paid for indirectly.

Of Dancing - Part III

2010-05-05T05:41:00.001-04:00

Class eleven was a year of transitions for pure Sherubtsians. We started getting students who had studied in Kalimpong and Darjeeling. They spoke a different kind of English – what was called slang, I remember. Words like ‘damn’ and ‘shit’ were new to us pure Sherubtsians. I guess being in class eleven meant we were now old enough to mingle (I mean between boys and girls), for in a building between the girls’ hostel and the boys’ hostel there was started what was called ‘Club.’ By then, of course, we had a very liberal Principal – also a Canadian Jesuit Father like the previous one, who had however been overly strict. We were all of a sudden free to go to the Club during weekends, put on the music (gramophone those days rather than tape recorder) and dance.

We pure Sherubtsians had actually gotten used to not mingling freely (between boys and girls), which we had learnt to be ‘immoral.’ We girls would be punished if we were seen talking to boys. Adopted brothers were said to be, “Brothers during the day!” I think it was a strange world we grew up in, almost like we girls were being trained to become nuns. If we did not do well in studies, the nuns would shout at us “Boys in your heads!” So, when we saw how free and open the Kalimpong and Darjeeling students were, we weren’t sure how to react. They danced so easily. We pure Sherubtsians would just sit there and watch shyly at the sensuous moves of some of those girls. They were dancing to western music! They were dancing in two’s! Holding hands… turning…, twirling. I watched enviously, my feet tapping on the floor. A guy (today in a respectable position) asked me for a dance once and I refused. He gave me a long lecture that until today has kept me wondering what it was all about. I happened to attend a few of his talks last year here in Thimphu that had been specially organized for a small group of trainers. I don’t know if he remembered his long lecture to me but it kept swooshing before my eyes as I listened to his talk. I’m sure there was a funny expression on my face that couldn’t have gone unnoticed by him. He said nothing, though. Neither did his expression.

Well, being the boldest of all Sherubtsian girls back then I quickly picked up the courage to dance at the Club. It was an amazing experience – the sort that is addictive to some people. I remember not liking so much the dances in two’s but rather the ones with girls in groups. This continued during my college days in Delhi. We would organize parties at the Bhutanese Embassy and I’d either be dancing all by myself or in a group. I love tango, ramba samba and salsa (not that I know any of these and they weren’t known then anyways) but somehow the romantic slow dance with boys/men never was appealing to me. I’d always try to escape by literally hiding somewhere safe. I think it was enjoyable for me only if I were attracted to my partner or with the one I was in love with.

I remember a popular music of my Sherubtse secondary level times – Boney M.’s ‘Brown girls in the ring…tra la la la la…Brown girls in the ring….tra la la la la la…’ and ‘I’m crazy like a fool…daddy daddy cool…’ In Delhi, I remember going crazy with ‘Grease Lightning…’ after watching John Travolta in Grease. Then it was Michelle Pfiefer’s ‘Cool Rider…’ in Grease II. In the Hindi category, it was Mithun’s ‘I am a Disco Dancer…’ ‘Krishna dharti pe aaja tu…Krishna pyaar sikha ja tu..’ I also remember Anil Kapoor’s ‘Yaar bina chen kaha rey…pyaar bina chen kaha rey…sona nahi chandi nahi yaar toh mila..arey pyaar karley…’ and of course Reena Roy’s ‘Chhoro chhoro…….yeh hai pyaar ki hathkari..’

I’m very fond of the Indian semi classical dance as well. While commuting by the DTC bus to college in Delhi, I used to sadly glance at the dance institute nearby Connaught Place and wish I were a student there. Similarly, as a little girl in Kolkata, I would watch other little girls dressed up in the ballet attire go for ballet lessons every day. I could never ask my father if I could learn as well, and as I watched these girls in ballet shoes from my window tears would roll down my cheeks. And then, when I happened to visit Israel in the late 1990’s during govt. service, I came into contact with the popular Salsa dance. God! That was like entering into a whole new world. I wanted to learn it so badly, but we were busy and the time was too short. Opportunity lost forever…

My awareness of the tango dance started when I watched Al Pacino tango dancing in the movie ‘Scent of a Woman.’ (Forgot the year) I just love the arching of the female body as she’s led firmly by her partner. The female head held high throughout the dance. Just so beautiful to watch and follow with your eyes all over the floor, your insides almost keeping to the rhythm although your bottom’s painfully glued to your chair.

The last time I really really really danced after college days was in 2006 at a learning event in Paro. It was our last day and we decided we were going to have some fun. So, we did. I remember letting myself go, oblivious of who was around. A senior member asked, “Are you enjoying, Tshering?” “Yes, Ma’am” I replied in full honesty. One member remarked, “Hey! Where did you learn to be the Dancing Queen.” I don’t know what he meant, but I took it as a compliment. That same year, there were other smaller occasions when I found myself dancing and best of all was when I met an equally crazy woman. She is fat, but very flexible, like the Bollywood Choreographer Saroj Khan. We still write to each other and express how we miss those times. The other day I accidentally met her in Wangdue and I noticed she had grown much fatter. I wondered if it meant she had hardly danced in recent years.

It’s been over three years now that I haven’t danced. I think that’s partly the reason I feel quite depressed sometimes. The closest to dancing that I managed was last year at a college jam session. Just standing in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by college students, smiling every now and then, shaking the head a bit from time to time, feet almost fixed, hands in slow movements. It was stifling! I missed the freedom. I guess I was behaving myself in front of the students. Whatever that’s supposed to mean….. I was actually in the company of a conservative lady friend, in front of whom I was too conscious to dance given my age. I returned home a sad frustrated woman that night.

Now, as I’m nearing fifty, I’m just left with enough energy to enjoy watching dance shows on TV – You Think You Can Dance on AXN, Dance India Dance on Zee TV, Nachke Dikha on Star Plus, etc etc etc ….. My favourite DID contestant Shakti won the Takdir Ke Topi recently and my happiness knew no bounds. I simply love her contemporary style in particular. The ongoing DID for little champs is just too good …cannot wait for the audition to be over.

I guess I could say my dream of dancing has been fulfilled in little joyful ways that give me the same kind of pleasure thinking about them today, that the dream could never die despite knowing it’ll never be fulfilled to the desired level. Sometimes, it is more fun living your dream for there is more to look forward to and you never know what surprises are in store for you. I’m imagining that once your dream’s achieved, the fun is over and that’s what I wouldn’t like to let go……….ever……….no matter how old I get.

That's what I think of dancing......

Of Dancing - Part II

2010-05-05T05:11:00.000-04:00

I lived in Kolkata – at the Trivoli Court – once, as a little girl. That was the time my late father broke my pencil. I remember those little moments when I would be dancing in the middle of a circle of adults (Bhutanese), who were in the service of the Bhutan Royal Family. I think for them it was a good break from the monotony of daily chores. For me, it was just an opportunity to dance and, of course, to show off my dancing ability. If only they were auditions for dance contests! I could’ve perhaps made my otherwise conservative father proud of her daughter for being crowned the Dancing Star. My mother lived in oblivion of her daughter’s crazy dream. She was too busy with her backbreaking household chores, making sure everything at home was how they should be by my father’s standards. How could I have felt the energy to dance if not for her love and care? My mother was that quiet strength in me – never spoken about, yet ever so vibrant.

It wasn’t surprising then that I participated in dances in school. My first ever experience of dancing on the stage was at Sherubtse (a school back then, a college today), where I joined in 1971. At first, it felt strange to be there, having come from the hustle bustle of Kolkata City. Sherubtse seemed like an altogether different world. The rich greenery. The fresh cool air. The quietude of the atmosphere. The warmth of the people. The nobility of the teachers. I was nevertheless pretty homesick and crying almost every night in bed, not having lived as a boarder. Late Rev. Fr. Mackey (the Principal then) assured my father I would be looked after well. He gave me VIVA (something like horlicks) and chocolates to calm me down, but that lasted a very short while. I would be back to sobbing. My father must have felt his heart breaking to see me cry like that. I wonder what he went back thinking!

I grew up participating in every Dzongkha dance (compulsory), although I never sang a word of the song. I was more of a hindi song singer and didn’t have the voice for Bhutanese type songs. However, I do have faint memories of my mother’s uncle teaching me Bhutanese songs and remarking, “Rigpa du; tsondrue kaygobey.” One of the songs I quite liked was ‘Namkha yuyi (???) phodrang la…’ So, now I’m wondering if music/dance thing is actually in my blood. Was I being groomed to be a national singer and dancer? No idea. When I visited Kathmandu in 2004, I was told by an astrologer that I loved singing and dancing. It was the first time ever any astrologer had said that about me. The other thing he said was that I had two minds about dharma – sometimes following, sometimes hesitating. That’s exactly how it was with me and how it still is. I guess I’m just confused by the increasing world conflicts despite the existence of religions. I settle with the thought that I must try to be good in heart, mind and action and my dharm’s practised. Now I’m thinking… can dance really be bad if mask dances are of gods and deities? There are dances of devis and devtas too. Unless, of course, certain categories of dances are considered immoral because they are ungodly or ungoddesslike….

In Sherubtse those days, we would be staging all sorts of dances besides the Bhutanese ones. There would be Nepali, Hindi, Spanish and other innovations such as the Umbrella Dance. Any dance came easy to me and I remember being a favourite of Mother Peter (Swiss), who would teach us to sing with hands clasped and resting against our chest and our mouths opened four finger wide while she played the piano. I realized later it was the pose of nuns singing hymns at the church. A song I remember most of all is ‘Ma a rch winds…ooh ooh ooh…Ma a rch winds….ooh ooh ooh…’ with the notes getting higher at each repetition. The dance I enjoyed the most was the Spanish dance Mother Peter taught us. She would say, “Look! Point your toes like Tshering. She’s the only one pointing her toes correctly. Very good.” I took dance seriously, so I paid very close attention to her every movement. I wanted to be perfect at what I was doing and in many ways this symbolizes me - the perfectionist! (I must be hated for this by many, but I'm not convinced that it's bad.)

The Umbrella Dance was a graceful Japanese type dance that we did in traditional colourful handwoven kiras minus the toegos. (I wish we had worn kimonos actually, for experience sake) We twirled the umbrella held horizontally with both hands to our right as we walked a few steps to one two three and up the umbrella was pushed gracefully upright with our left leg raised equally gracefully and our body slightly tilted to the right. The movements were slow but being able to maintain gracefulness throughout was something to be immensely proud of.

Among all types of dances, I was known for my Nepali ones. I’d be in every one of them. I’d be among the chosen ones to do the Nepali Dance when we had functions in honour of special visitors. One of the ones I’m most embarrassed about is when I could not wear my petticoat inside the transparent saari. The girl who was supposed to take care of our costume had left my petticoat behind at the hostel. I couldn’t be spared, so I danced on the stage with my underwear showing. I cried all night and no amount of consoling helped at any point. I think it built some kind of fear in me, for as I grew older I’d be more and more reluctant to participate in Nepali dances and when I got to class eleven, I found every possible excuse to not participate and so ended my Nepali dance episodes. ‘Till death do us part’ was inapplicable here. We had separated from each other much before the dying of either. Not once since then did the occasion arise for me to pick it up again.

When we were in class eleven, we girls had a separate Reading Room at our hostel that girls like me preferred to use as a Dance Room. The record player was with the matron. We’d request her to play music and with the sound blasting through the sound boxes fitted in the Reading Room, me and a few others would dance away to glory. No care. No worries. I remember one of the lady teachers visiting us sometimes and teaching us ‘One Two chacha cha…three four chacha cha…’ She swayed her hips so well, I instantly fell in love with her. She was our history teacher, who repeated ALSO so many times that we’d pass our time in her class counting the number of times she repeated it with the help of tally marks. A good use we had found of the tally system that we had learnt in math!

...to be continued

Of Dancing - Rewritten, Part I

2010-04-25T21:11:00.003-04:00

I read my own piece 'Of Dancing' and felt it needed a face lift, so here it is reproduced in several parts. I think my earlier version was much too long and kind of boring, I must admit. But then, I'm only just learning how to write creatively (been too used to writing official reports) and as it goes on and I'm following other blogs, I'm inspired to keep improving.

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I think everybody has their share of fun. Memories of mine are still quite vivid and fresh like the newly opened dewy buds. As I close my eyes, lost in those times, I can smell their fragrance all around me. It feels as though I am on every flower petal, in a white silky dress gliding around gleefully. No care. No worries. Just happy.

My kind of fun was born from my love and passion for songs, music and dance. Even the rare occasions that I indulged in exercises in college days, trying to look impressively fit, I would be dancing till I could feel my perspiration running down my face and the middle of my chest. If only there had been Zumba then, I would probably be a Zumba Instructor today having earned popularity for bonding Bhutan to South America just as the GNH idea has. I hated following strict exercise rules of ‘one two hands up,’ ‘three four hands down’ and so on. I guess I am quite the kind of person who has never liked rigid rules. One of the ones that I have hated the most is writing down my name in an open register on the office reception desk and signing against it to provide evidence of my attendance in office. It hurt not to be trusted, when all I was guilty of was working mighty hard and dancing during my own leisure time. All I was asking was to be allowed to open up and express myself in a multitude of creative ways…yes, that’s what dance symbolizes and that’s the special reason for my fondness for it.

Showing my passion for dance and music during my growing stage wasn’t easy, I remember. Adults didn’t understand. They thought it was something degrading. The ‘social stigma’ that we hear whispers of today, from time to time??? I thought I was just having fun, but then ‘fun’ did also have a certain negative connotation to it then. I remember even the so-called educated of around my age not understanding my feeling of joy when I danced. A guy (a friend’s lover) once remarked about the wildness of my dance at a farewell party. He thought no husband would trust his wife to dance like I did at that party. That was the first moment in my youthful years of adulthood that I felt hopelessly imprisoned, like my hands and feet were bonded to the prison walls by iron chains of perhaps the lasting type constructed by our very own Thangtong Gyalpo. Would he have known how abused I felt by his noble gesture of creating the iron chain links? He wouldn’t have, for he’s under the blinding false impression that he did indeed pay a good deed.

But, how do I explain that something about music (any – Indian classical to disco) that set my heart racing? My iron chains would just snap and break me free. If only my first love had had that kind of effect on me! But, sadly for the whole human race of lovers, my first love was a painful obsession. I had taken a fast forward leap over the stage of puppy love, which I’m told is a totally sweet experience that I lost my chance with. My passion for dance was truly symbolic of freedom. It drove me out into the vast open space so that I may experience true joy, while my first love dragged me deeper into the dark hole of groping for nothing. There was nothing to it…..only darkness and pain. My dances on the contrary sent tingling sensations through every part of me, as when you’re touched tenderly by the one you truly love.

I knew from the time I was a little girl that my feet felt like they were lifted off the ground when music played. I must’ve been quite in love with myself by the way I would be standing in front of the mirror, watching myself dance. My father (late) would be trying to make me write the English alphabets, I remember, and I would be busier posing in my best attire and dangling ear rings in front of the mirror. Quite a bold girl then, it seems. If not for my short height and narrow shoulders I think I could’ve been grooming myself to become a model. So it appears when I think of it now. My father once broke my pencil with his bare hands. He was angry that I wasn’t paying much attention to learning the English alphabets well. He must’ve taken pride in spending quality time with me, as I understand it today, and there I was immersed in the joy of dressing up, looking good and dancing. I don’t think I was scared, though, when my father snapped my pencil into two pieces right in front of my eyes. I think I was actually more consumed by the thought of how strong my father was for doing that with his bare hands. A might man! That’s what I thought of him. I could’ve felt no ill emotions, I’m certain, having been consumed by such elating thoughts about my father despite the broken pieces of pencil lying pitiably on the floor like a broken winged bird on the ground.

I think of myself as one of the boldest girls of those times. I would always be trying out fashionable clothes (not necessarily expensive, though). Dance and fashion were like closest friends. They could not be separated. They were each other’s life force. If one were to be removed, the other would definitely turn into a lifeless piece of rock as if subdued by Guru Rinpochhe himself. So, ‘dressing appropriately for the dance occasion’ was to me a natural element in the world of music. Fashion designing could have saved me from the nuances of Education, if only fate had had that in store for me. It was with ease that I thought about the possibility of fashion designing after I resigned from government service. I’d be swinging excitedly from spiritual sessions to research topics listing to drawing of national costume based fashionable designs as a monkey would from one tree type to another. My swings were, of course, handicapped without the curly tipped tail. I wondered if my daughter kind of imagined me with the tail while I swung around like that, by the amused look on her otherwise somber face.

In the midst of the mad monkey swinging, an unexpected thing happens. I grab a job at an international NGO, literally rushing off to the remote east. Visiting. Bidding farewell. Storing. Selling off unwanted stuff. Packing. All done in a day’s mad rush! My monkey swinging all of a sudden gets replaced by my commuting to district headquarters and geog (village block) centres, talking about participatory planning. I must’ve grown a tail after all - the only way I could’ve been caught and swung across mountains, from the west to the east. I was supposed to dance and organize fashion contests, wasn’t I? Maybe, it was Guru Rinpochhe himself having made his ‘invisible’ appearance, carrying me off to the other end? He had a message for me and that was perhaps ‘forget dancing.’

Anything seems possible when I look at where I am today. Participatory planning halted. Dancing seasonally. Researching and evaluating sparingly. Teaching mostly a domestic affair. Training farmers’ groups. Training teachers no more. Consulting unspecialized. Doing just about anything, except the nine to five type employee’s job that I developed phobia against during government service days. The thin line between sweating it out to make my dream come true and relying on what fate has in store for me is now a dotted version, enhancing permeability between the two. Perhaps a computer miracle of the type that the box on a word page is rid of its borders. The borders are there, but they cannot be seen. In such a situation, the probability of my dreams being fulfilled is running downhill. I feel my passion getting subdued so that money can grow and keep growing. My money is seasonal like the vegetables in the summer and the oranges in the winter. It comes like it would never go when it comes and then, like the river running dry it isn’t flowing anymore. My dancing appears to be competing with the money flow, except that they hardly coincide with each other. One comes when the other goes and I would say that’s what keeps me going. Like I hate following rules, I hate it when my life gets monotonous. So, thanks to my passion for dance, my life is spared from the mundaneness of being at some office before nine in the morning, doing usual stuff and then packing off by five in the evening. Is that the Aquarian part of me? Maybe…

........to be continued

(Oops! So sorry, I deleted the earlier post and with it are gone all comments of readers. So sorry! Didn't realize that until now. Please forgive me. Please! Please! Please!)

Four of Us

2010-04-15T04:49:00.000-04:00

Four old friends met the other day after many years. We had spent twelve years together in a boarding school (Sherubtse, when it was just a secondary school). We had grown together. We had shared good times. We had also faced tense moments, especially when having to compete with one another during homeworks, tests (weekly, monthly those days) and examinations (first term, second term and final). We had also witnessed the pains each one of us went through. The pain was at times from not having enough money to eat at the Kanglung upper market on Sundays. At other times, from being thrashed by the nuns for venturing outside the hostel compound fence to pluck our favourtite tsu tsu sey or buy libi or tshatsi buram from the nearby village. (The mess food was terrible!) Some other painful times were when we would be eve teased by boys while walking down to the dining hall or when we were thrashed by the Principal for not keeping quiet in class. Of course, there were also moments of joy that we shared. Some were when friends, whose homes were nearby (e.g. Serthi, Rongthong), got big bangchungs of home cooked food that we often longed for and waited with mouths watering (hopefully not to the point of panting like a dog). Some other moments of joy were when we got together and cooked special food at one of the shops on a Sunday and ate like we hadn’t seen food for days, as when people are stranded on an island or on a deserted place from an airplane crash landing. (Without such moments we could’ve become cannibals so to speak.) Sometimes, our joy would be in playing antakshiri or doing the Helen dance at the hostel (that we learnt later boys stole peeps of) or listening to stories that one of us was especially good at.

All those moments came back in flashes when we met and celebrated the other day. However, nothing so emotional to bring down tears in torrential rain…only laughter like little children gleefully running round trees on the playground. It really did feel like four little children had gotten together, instead of grumpy looking middle aged women.

Yes, that’s who we are actually. Middle aged. All four approaching 50 and weighing almost 60 (me the least as always…ahem!). Our children grown up except for my youngest son from my new marriage. Two of us with the same first husband, one divorced two years ago and single since then and one re-married. All four nevertheless appearing equally happy. There was no need to get into a discussion on what made us happy. We were just happy – in the most plain and simple terms. Our ages long past the youthful days nevertheless our appearance ever so youthful - owed much to our petite structure (by God’s grace ???) …perhaps.

Each one of us to one another: “Hey! You still look the same…young as ever…beautiful.”

Each then responding shyly: “Young? Beautiful? Hee Hee No way!

“Gosh! I’m fat … weighing 60 kgs and need to lose some weight.” (The one looking least bit fat)

While another, “My blood pressure’s down. No more tape worms. Remember I had that problem?”

The third: “I can see. I can read this paper without any problem. I can’t see far though. Your that paper on the wall…I can’t read a word!” (One of them tries to read and is successful – the one complaining about her weight)

“Me too. I can’t read a word. I have two specs, one for near and the other for far. I use them only when I feel like. I’m a bit careless on that.” (That’s me – an example of what working continuously on the computer can do to the eyes)

“Hey! Come let’s have some wine!” (The one who can’t read far)

“Sorry…I don’t drink anymore…it’s been about three years.” (That’s me, but of course I was dying to drink along with them and I cursed that I had become so rigid in certain ways!)

“I don’t drink also, but I can make today an exception.” (The one who proposed that we drink)

“Come, let me pour the wine. Which one?” (That’s me – the one who wasn’t even going to drink)

“Here, you can have apple juice instead.” (That was the host friend’s husband…sweet as ever…taking care of his wife’s friend)

On the face of one of my friends I noticed a glow I had never seen before. I took it to be reflecting her inner sense of contentment. After all, she was chosen by her husband many years ago as The One who best matched the criteria of the kind of woman he would be marrying. He was very clear on that. Theirs wasn’t a wedding out of love but rather out of conscious choice. It didn’t matter to him that she was from a humble background or whether or not she was good looking. What mattered was whether she would make a good faithful wife to him. I look at her today as one of those whose inner beauty brings beauty to the exterior. She appeared like an angel to me. I don’t know if it had to do with the national dress she had worn. I think it makes some Bhutanese women look like a khandroma (pardon me if I’m using this inappropriately).

I liked that the friend who hosted the get together was preparing dinner with the help of her husband. It just seemed cute…loving…heart warming…

“My husband is my friend…my everything,” She blurted out as she walked towards the kitchen after a sip of the wine. I smiled with my heart filled with warmth.

That’s how all marriages are desired to be, I think, but rarely so and perhaps the reason why some marriages are said to be made in heaven. Her specialty for the night was beef and her husband’s was pork (spare ribs). Both the curries were equally delicious but of course my friend commented, “You made your curry too hot!” Her husband said, “I did it deliberately to ensure the rib acquired some taste at least.” That bit was fun. We women will always be women, I guess! I wouldn’t even have gotten to taste the good food and that too of a friend’s husband’s if I had stuck rigidly to my resolution of only eating chicken. (I had actually thought my husband was the only one who enjoyed cooking. Ha! Ha!)

From the four of us, only one can drive - the one who is now single. Well, she has always been the down-to-earth type and blessed with a strong background. She and her husband (oops! Ex husband) had already bought a plot of land when they were not even married yet! She now owns her own estate and is running a hotel business. She resigned from government service a few years after I left. Of course, she was much more prepared than I was, although we both started off as a teacher despite having gotten through the RCSC examinations in the latter part of 1980’s. She said she was happy with her singlehood but her face did not glow as much as my earlier mentioned friend’s. I thought her mention of her husband having shocked her with his frivolousness after 18 years of what she had thought had been a good marriage was actually deeply embedded in her heart – never to be forgiven or forgotten. I thought maybe it had left a painful wound in her heart that she would I’m sure prefer to deny. My heart went out to her. I felt bad that I wasn’t even around when she was going through those bad times at the early stage of her separation. But then she never was the kind who would talk about her personal problems and I happened to be away in the remote east. When she blurted out that she was separated and asked me if I had found a new partner, I was taken by surprise. A separation in her life was never ever imagined by any of us. She and her husband appeared to have such a stable life together with side business going well at the same time that they were earning monthly salary as employees. To us it appeared they had everything and had in fact made it quite rich very young.

What can we say about life? What can we say about what makes us happy or contented? Everything seems so impermanent and any damned thing so possible no matter how controlled your life might be. It’s not just life that’s uncertain. Everything about life is uncertain too. One moment you’re on the top of the world and the next moment down in the dumps. That’s life, I guess, and this is probably one good reason friends need to meet and talk…forget for once all life’s unpleasantries and unfairness…just chill….that’s what it was like that day.

From the three of us that can’t drive, one is a trained health person with nursing background and now with a masters degree. (The one with the glow on her face that I mentioned earlier.)

She remarked, “Whether I like it or not I’m stuck with this job.”

She was comparing herself to the three of us who happened to be free with time in our hands to use as we pleased. That was interesting. Telling it all in a casual sentence. I consider her blessed with a supportive and faithful husband like she were ‘The Chosen One’ (again) for God to gift her so. I’m very happy for her. She and I used to get along very well despite my being the crazy and unpredictable kind while she was the simple and reliable sort. I remember visiting her home in Khaling during school days and enjoying the simple yet special spinach curry. Never really learnt to prepare it that way, though. Never will, I guess, and that’s why I suppose it’s so special even today …in my memories. I took delightful note of her neat short hair – the style that we used to be forced to wear during school days. It may have seemed the least attractive then, but this time it was different. It looked quite trendy. Smart. We would’ve perhaps looked alike, if my hair hadn’t grown to the length that made me look like a ninja. (The reason why I chose not to wear black that day, although my favourite colour as far as clothes are concerned)

The other one of us friends that can’t drive is the one who did not complete her studies. (The one in whose house we had the get together) She got into Delhi University like the rest of us but wasn’t with us anymore after the first year. Her absence came as a surprise to all of us. She was good in studies and could have excelled if she wished. We still do not know why she decided to leave her studies. Could it have been because she fell madly in love and she and her husband were both in a hurry to get married? We heard she was running a coffee house in Gedu, but never once did I get to visit it despite travelling the Thimphu-Phuentsholing way uncountable number of times. I think that was because I would travel by bus and the bus never stopped nearby her coffee house. She and I were alike in the sense of being math and science freaks. Both of us still like maths, it seems, but she has maintained closeness to it by tutoring students most part of her life in Thimphu. What is special about her tutoring is first of all her experience with her foreigner sister-in-law in running a private school (more like home schooling) for children of expatriates, which has equipped her with the kind of skills other teachers (trained) cannot boast of. Her second tutoring specialty is multigrade tutoring that she manages so well at her home, which again other multigrade teachers (trained) cannot boast of. Each time I think of her I do so with admiration for her special tutoring skills that not many people are aware of. She could in fact make a very good resource person for workshops with teachers in multigrade and modern teaching.

As I sit before my computer writing this and nearing conclusion, I’m wondering how we would measure our success. I listened to a successful film maker recently on TV. He said three things are important for success in life: 1) capability/skills; 2) luck; and 3) hard work. He said that we are either capable or not capable but it is in our hands to make ourselves capable. He added, luck is tricky…cannot tell when it’s coming…cannot predict when it’ll go. So, what is the most reliable? Hard work. Don’t ever let that go. That’s the one thing that can bring permanent success. I keep seeing LUCK as something two of us friends never had, except of course when we compare ourselves with the much less fortunate born disabled. We had proven to our teachers that we were brainy, so what went wrong? I think we just weren’t lucky enough and probably made the wrong choices and decisions. We wasted our intelligence. We got carried away by emotions. One oscillated from being a math and science freak to becoming a social studies specialist. One other chose marriage over studies. The other two had it all.

That’s the four of us – The Erratic; The Good Housewife; The Lucky; The Successful. Perhaps my readers could place these tags where best fitting.

Last of all:

Heck! Meeting old friends does really feel good.

Remembering NS

2010-03-04T05:50:00.003-05:00

Sonam Ongmo's post on National Service Experience reminded me of my own national service experience. It was in the mid-1980's and with another four ladies. Three other ladies had dropped out from fear of their own imagined terror and misery in rural areas.

The experience was truly awesome. Nine months! We relished the sweet innocence of the rural people. We were honoured with special treatment by every single community. We were all ladies and were treated like the most beautiful looking girls the rural men had ever set their eyes on. Not kidding!

We visited countless number of rural and remote communities in all the districts (18 at that time) of the country, checking smokeless stoves and health and hygiene for the National Women’s Association of Bhutan (NWAB). We wrote a report at every district and sent it to the NWAB Office in Thimphu. We loved the part when we would identify village people with serious health problems in need of immediate medical attention and send the details to NWAB.

We had moments in the eastern region when we longed for tea. We would most times be greeted with plenty of the locally brewed wine. We would at times get drunk and not be able to walk properly back to our destination. One of us had such a terrible fall in Trashiyangtse once that she had to be led down steep rocky cliffs from Jamkhar to Chazam (bridge). One can imagine how long that might have taken with a sprained ankle to take care of. At other times, the right amount of wine would help us forget the pain and exhaustion from walking for hours. It made us wonder if people there relished the local wine for the relief it brought to them after a hard day’s labour.

We also had moments in the southern region when we would lie down flat on a bench outside a rural house after trying out a few puffs from extremely intoxicating tobacco wrapped in maize cover. It wasn’t surprising that we witnessed at least one elderly person in almost every house coughing badly. The best of all was that we would be greeted with a steel glass of lovely homemade curd – very refreshing when thirsty in the almost unbearable heat of the southern region. The most admirable was their spic and span oven area - a result of applying fresh layers of mud after use every day. I would sometimes feel I might have a vision of some Goddess guarding the kitchen.

Further, we had moments in the western region when we would long for some wine and there would be no trace of it. We were greeted with flasks of milk tea and butter tea each time we managed to get into a house. We would desperately ask, “Do you have some wine that we can buy?” “No!” The toughness and surefootedness of the people in this region was admirable. I interact with vegetable women sellers from Paro at the Thimphu vegetable market today and recognize these qualities in them even today. I silently wish I were as capable as these women in business.

In essence, the national service made us experience a variety of traditions first hand in different regions of the country, besides the hardship of rural life. We saw that our country was heterogeneous in its societal design and culture, each region as warm and hospitable with us irrespective of our origin and poor conditions in the villages. Mingling with the people in whichever part of the country we went to was surely the easiest thing to do. I remember our every moment being made a happy moment by people who actually underwent a lot of hardship on the farms. I think that’s what constitutes the uniqueness of our country – happiness in giving and showing compassion, despite limitations.

24 and 3: They and Me

2010-03-04T01:56:00.001-05:00

There were 24 of them. Multiple of the lucky number three. Great!

The expected number was 28. Also multiple of a lucky number - seven.

Twelve of them were girls. That made 50%. Gender equality honoured. Wow!

The number of days we were to be together was three. Lucky number again – yeah!

All went well. Unity was our strength. Smile was our motto.

We agreed “It is better to light a candle than to curse the dark.”

We also agreed “In order to inspire team members, leaders themselves have to be inspired.”

The first day was MY DAY, with me doing a lot of talking. However, integrated in between was a deliberate attempt on my part to make the sessions highly interactive between them and me through the use of the questioning technique that I’m personally very fond of. There was slow interaction, but worth the encouragement and patience that I adamantly stuck to throughout. I was aware that giving up was easy for the facilitator, but I was convinced what really paid off was repetitive encouragement and extended patience particularly considering the young fun loving age group. (Doing this with experienced adults would be making fools of ourselves! They would feel stifled rather than encouraged.)

The second and third days were THEIR DAYS, with a lot of group work and presentations by them. There was great interaction among themselves! I understood better that young adults felt more at ease with their peer and the facilitator had to be tactful in creating a conducive environment.

By the end of the third day, it was EVERYBODY’S DAY. Everybody was actively engaged in something or the other. Nobody reminded me of the time to stop for the day. I myself didn’t realize that time had flown. Amazingly true! Everybody appeared to be enjoying the empowerment they had gained! What greater satisfaction for a facilitator?

The fourth morning – THE MORNING! The outcome from the workshop had to be presented to the CEO of the institute. I was at the institute the earliest despite being an externally hired facilitator. I guess I wanted to be there for them in the spirit of good leadership. Pleasantly surprising was the early arrival of the participants as well. They had been told it was ok for them to be there by 9:00 but most of them were there before 9:00. What greater happiness for the facilitator? It was an opportunity for them to prove to the CEO that they made a good ‘Student Government’ – that they had been rightly elected by the Student Body. So, how did it go? SUPERB! FANTABULOUS! Tears literally welled up in my eyes. It wasn’t a group of in-service people I had dealt with on those three tiresome days, but a group of first year college students! They hadn’t been taught subject matter from the college programmes, but rather ‘basic leadership skills’ with a focus on planning and proposal writing. Such a workshop can be stressful for a facilitator owing mainly to the age-related challenges associated with young adults, who think mostly of fun and are bored easily by work-related talks and activities. The trick – integrate fun activities as energizers in between. That’s what I did. I had a collection of songs/music of my daughter’s choice on CD that I used tactfully to keep the group energized. I also provided silent meditative moments first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening with the use of soothing music and recitation of mantras by experts on DVD, with the objective of starting off and ending off on a clear conscience and positive note. Would you believe me if I told you that the participants – the fun loving young adults - themselves reminded me of the meditative moment all three days? Yes, they did! I thought that was a lesson for us experienced adults to NOT take the young for granted or underestimate them.

Most pleasantly surprising for me on the fourth morning were the following:

• All of them had prepared well and most of them presented confidently and in good team spirit.

• One of the boys, who had been quiet and awkward most times, made a presentation! (I wasn’t aware he would. For me, that was the most touching moment given his sad history and his hesitation to mingle.)

• One of the girls, who was also the least participative during the workshop, made her presentation so clearly and fluently. (I was aware she would be doing the presentation, but I hadn’t known she could speak so well. I guess what hindered her from participating was her own guilty conscience of having violated certain rules. I think her group members made her feel guilty.)

• One other boy had made the effort to improve his presentation skill. (When he made presentations during the workshop, he tended to speak in incomplete sentences. I think he was aware he had the unique ability to speak with American accent, but what he probably wasn’t aware was that THAT wasn’t enough. I had provided him feedback and told him he could do much better and, yes, he did it! That was another touching moment for me.)

Most important of all, had the workshop outcome been achieved? Yes! The Student Government had semi-final draft proposals of student activities for this semester (Spring 2010) that the Student Assembly would be presented with and also a sample operational work plan of activities approved in principle that would be applied with the other activities once approved.

The most deeply feared thing in my heart, though, is whether the process of ‘assessing where we are’ with SWOT analysis, followed by ‘what we need to do’ and ‘what we need,’ followed by proposals of student extracurricular activities and proposals of possible solutions for improvement in the welfare of the Student Body this semester will be applied every year. This is the actual test of the effectiveness of workshops and at the moment I remain unsure of this given the experience with some groups of people, who tended to view in country training workshops as additional workload rather than a learning event to improve their capability, efficiency at work and effectiveness of their work.

Nevertheless, I remain undeterred in my belief:

...that participation at workshops involves the head, heart and the hand simultaneously.

Doubt

2010-02-21T03:48:00.003-05:00

The poetic expression below, in an attempted Kahlil Gibran style, has been inspired by the 2008 Oscar nominee film 'Doubt.' Each verse describes an extracted scene from the film. Just got into the mood, that's all...no offence intended...

Envelope in hand,
her head bent,
dry leaves rustling around
the young lady, seated on a hard bench outdoors,
her face blushing from
embarrassment
in the company of the opposite sex.

Opening the cigarette case,
he took out a stick shamelessly
and put it in his mouth tasting of holy water;
savouring every pull,
every puff of the unholy smoke,
the man,
confident of companionship.

She shifted in her seat,
closer to him.
Both dressed in a black robe,
eyes squarely meeting eyes,
he pushed sense into her doubtful mind
of his kindness to the boys.

Up she stood,
tears welled up in her eyes;
her book tightly held close to her chest.
Turning to him, standing upright,
she assured him of her trust in him.
He smiled and thanked her, cigarette in hand,
relieved of the guilt thrust on him
by the doubtful minds of his holy kind.

The adolescent black boy – the only of his kind,
Shyly walked among the glittering white adolescent faces.
The teacher checked if he was listening.
He had no answer to her questions.
It angered her.
She was confused again -
whether to trust or not to trust.

He that the wind finally took away and
he had to say goodbye
with a heavy heart and
shake of hands.

An old lady in black holy robe
sorted out her precious decoratives
on the altar.

The Principal, another old lady-in-black, sat on a bench,
in the cold snowy surrounding.
The young lady cum teacher had just arrived back from home
where she had gotten away to rest in peace.
She wished she could be like the old lady, for
unlike the old lady she couldn’t sleep anymore, from
the guilt of accusing the man wrongly.
The old lady believed he was what she thought he was.
The truth she believed to have uncovered with a lie,
shocking the young lady to near heart attack.

The old lady’s doubts remained, nevertheless,
a burden on her chest and
in crying lay her only solace.
The young lady could only
hold her in empathy and
usher her into their home.

While in a distant institute,
the doubted man in holy black robe
had found himself a respectable position.
The doubt had brought him a better life.

Between you and me

2010-02-20T03:03:00.002-05:00

Between you and me, the

miles of winding road beneath our feet; the

swiftly meandering waters far below; and

the ugly bald patched mountains almost

touching the virgin blue sky above.

Between you and me, long years

of known and unknown; of

rich experience and poor inexperience; of

crazily loving and vengefully hating; of

warmly responding and aggressively reacting

to words and actions – good or bad.

Between you and me, the

changing of revealing day into concealing night; the

rising of the glaring sun and the cool moon; fertile

dug up soils and sprouting of organic food

for you, me and them – equally.

Between you and me, thoughts

traversing at lightning speed; feelings

conveyed telepathically; energy

positively charged with love and

separation - painful no more.

Between you and me, the

future well envisioned; happiness

in every moment of our lives lived

in separateness yet together

in our hearts – forever.

Between you and me, stands

not the cruel impossible but the inspiring hope

of always meeting in forever parting; of

assured nearness in definite farness; and

of living life despite challenges.

Between you and me, nothing

is something; emptiness so full

of us; they have a place too, but

only if you and I will it – in bad times

as much in good times.

'Happiness’ in my view

2010-02-13T02:48:00.010-05:00

This blogspot has been inspired by Lekey Dorji's comment to me on facebook, reproduced below.

"I am a co-opt member of academic board of the RUB and I find that there is no coherence and common understanding of GNH in education...I am sure national consultants will have to take the lead in our own home-grown concept of GNH...I am not into and will never be...I like something concrete , measurable.....could never become an expert in this thing....good luck aum Tshering!"

I am more a believer of ‘individual happiness’ than GNH, but would definitely like to find a link between the two in measurable terms – for fulfillment of my own curiosity as a citizen. Personally, I do not believe happiness should be equated with contentment in remaining small or having little (as many are interpreting), but rather being able to cope with life’s challenges undeterred in any endeavour of one’s choice (whether getting rich/wealthy/prosperous materially or getting rich spiritually or both in terms of acquiring as well as giving). However, individual happiness:

• should NOT make people selfish or greedy and be led into exploitation and deprivation of others’ happiness (in the guise of employment opportunity, poverty alleviation, GNH pillars, etc) from ‘human rights’ point of view.
• should NOT make us lose connection with family, friends, community and society from ‘citizenship’ point of view.

I believe each of us is as much a member of family, friends, community, and society as much as a citizen and an individual. Everybody knows that, but many may not necessarily pay attention to all of it, therefore, look at happiness as ‘subjective’ when in actual fact it makes better sense as a combination of (rather balance between) subjective and relative. To be able to embody all these roles in ONE is the challenge of GNH and citizenship without losing out on individual happiness. This is perhaps the ultimate purpose of Education – a mixture of concrete and abstract, therefore, prone to controversies and finger pointing for almost every organizational, societal or national failure. In other words, Education is not straightforward, therefore, not always justified to point fingers at the education system or the players within the system, or fair to hold school teachers and principals solely responsible for creating a desired society. They need active cooperation and support of parents and other stakeholders.

In terms of measurement, the ‘concrete’ as per my understanding ends at the output level (facilities and services), while their worthiness is assessed at the outcome level in terms of effectiveness in people’s and organizations’ actions and at the impact level in terms of improvement in people’s lives. This provides better meaning and sense to ‘good governance’ (focus on effectiveness, whether public or private or civil society) and ‘socioeconomic progress’ (focus on impact at both the national and individual levels), both of which require capable, morally sound and happy individuals.

‘Happiness,’ is, therefore, as much a required element in the processes of organizations, societies and government as a desired end (in other words, sustained status) for individuals, communities and the nation. At whatever level we discuss happiness, it’s people’s happiness that we’re talking about rather than the happiness of materials, however, the healthy functioning of the latter and good relationship among people are definitely sources of happiness while at work. From this point of view, I look at the four pillars - socio economic equity, cultural preservation, good governance and environmental conservation – as sources of GNH for Bhutan. Their sustainability should ensure the country’s GNH. And, a sustained GNH in my view would provide a continued source for development of people's happiness.

May you find continued happiness in Losar.

Haiku, for your pleasure

2010-02-08T11:02:00.004-05:00

I love writing Haiku for the simple reason that it does not need rhyming, it is usually inspired by nature and written from the heart without being philosophical. I think it was just last year that I started learning how to write it after its introduction by deerparkthimphu. I know it'll take me ages to get near perfect at it but definitely not without practice, right?

Below please find my Haiku contribution to Deerparkthimphu for February 2010 - hoping they'll appear on the site soon...well, doesn't matter really even if they don't.

Covered in black

She gazed at the crow on the roof

Snow sparklingly white

Paper strewn

Head hidden in shame

Bird chirping

The bald path

Dry leaves on either side

Sea way beyond

Crazy winds

Dry leaves turned wild

Pole still

Red faced

He shouted in anger

Rosary clenched

Child sobbing

Under the bare tree

Wind singing

The ‘I’ matters

2010-02-02T07:33:00.004-05:00

The ‘I’ in me matters today, but for many years it did not live. It existed somewhere. It lay dormant.

The ‘I’ was lost between trying very hard to be a loyal daughter and trying equally hard to be a dutiful government employee. The family and the employer (organization) came first. I think it was similar to Shiv Khera's “Country first…the nation above everything…” He says “serving the nation is not a sacrifice but a privilege” and I support him but would like to add that the ‘I’ in us must live in order to be able to serve better. Sustainable individuals can ensure a sustainable nation. That is the reason I think that Education is considered the core of the Nation’s Heart. Educated Citizens matter to the nation. However, within this educated citizen must live the ‘I’. This is my belief.

In the years that ‘I’ didn’t live, my mind and actions were conditioned by my sense of gratitude – to my parents for providing me my basic needs while I was growing up; and to my government for educating and grooming me. Even after becoming a mother my duty remained more or less fixed – i.e. on my parents and my organization. I recognize and understand today that my children were deprived of the love, care and attention they deserved from their mother. I am guilty of that and it is impossible to make up for it, I admit. I can only caution others from repeating what I did and I guess smart people are not doing this anyways. I wasn’t smart. I was a robot. No exaggeration. It’s absolutely true. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have brains. I did, but they functioned under certain fixed conditions. They were useless for the ‘I’ in me. It was nobody’s doing but my own. I was to blame.

When I view my bygone days through the lens of my current knowledge and understanding of success and openness, I do not see the ‘I’ in me. I see several persons accommodated within me. I see too many responsibilities. I see too many diversions. I see no path paved for the ‘I’ in me. It was no wonder then that I found myself with nothing to call my own. My children’s father became a joy for other women. My children became the children of their grandparents. I was mother to them only in the sense of a provider. I couldn’t even claim I loved them if ‘love’ were to be defined as an ‘action’ rather than a ‘feeling.’ The land that I paid for was not in my name, therefore not mine. Nothing was mine and that was because ‘I’ didn’t live.

It was also no wonder that my professional ability was losing stability. It was sitting on a lame chair – rickety; falling every now and then. I must’ve been drained of energy from picking myself up constantly, but that awareness did not exist either.

I remember when I was growing up as a boarder in school I used to think everything would fall in place if we were educated and moral. That’s what we were taught. I would get a job and that meant being able to take care of my parents’ needs as a dutiful daughter. I thought happiness meant keeping my parents happy. I thought loyalty meant working selflessly. Everything had to do with following a pre-determined process and I was one of the significant inputs. It didn’t matter where the process led and what value my actions added. The value they added to my own life was out of the question as I wasn’t even alive.

I do not know for sure when I started experiencing unhappiness, but I remember it had become unbearable in 2004. That was the only time I recognized the ‘I’ in me was missing, so it is easy for me to believe Amartya Sen when he says that we humans have to experience unhappiness to recognize our discontentment with life. When I began to feel unhappy, I began to see a lot more of the world. I think when you live in a deep dark hole you become numb. You don’t feel any pinches, including those of unfairness. I had become oblivious of people’s actions and progress around me. When I came out of my deep dark hole it wasn’t gradual but more like the sudden gush of lava from a dormant volcano. I found myself at the edge of a cliff, which means I had only one option – to turn around, retrace my steps and start from scratch. So, in effect, it’s been only around five years since my life truly began….since I truly started living. If my dear friends are reading this blog, I think they would understand best what I mean. They were the ones that kept me going during the times ‘I’ wasn’t alive. My parents may not understand. My past employer (organization) may not understand either. My old colleagues may – not sure.

I had to, of course, do a lot of reflecting and contemplating. I had to find the lost ‘I’ in me and to be able to do that I had to detach myself from friends. I had to identify my strengths and weaknesses. I had to invest time on my true strengths and turn some of my weaknesses (that had potential) into strengths too. I had to look for opportunities to use my strengths. I had to even take the help of spiritual masters to understand the real me. Today, I am ‘I’ with a more clearly focused mind. I know what I want. I have a vision and a mission of my own. Hellen Keller had said, quotes Shiv Khera, “Having eyesight with no vision was worse than not having eyesight.” How true! That’s why I was in a deep dark hole, I think.

Shiv Khera says jealous people stab you at the back and sympathize with you in front of you. I came to know who my true friends were and who pretended to be so but were actually jealous. I am aware I have many more hurdles to cross, but I’m proud that I’ve made a beginning. I already see things falling in place. In a sense it is true that Education and Morality can make things fall in place, but not without continuous learning, relearning, unlearning, motivation and courage. Being conditioned, fixed and playing safe does not get you very far. Success under such circumstances is an illusion, therefore temporary. Once you are on your own, you can only survive through your own capability, courage and determination. The important thing is to invest in building your production capability, as highlighted by Stephen R. Covey, and all tough professional challenges can be overcome. Nothing in life is without challenges. That is a fact. How we deal with that is by building our capacity to meet those challenges courageously and with dignity. And, to be able to focus on building your capability you have to be motivated and courageous. Your vision, mission and belief in morality provide you that motivation and courage. My production had suddenly taken a downhill trend in 2004, which meant my capability had exhausted. Why wouldn’t it? I was conditioned and fixed. I wasn’t proactive. I wasn’t courageous. I was blind. There was no refueling either. And, worst of all, jealous colleagues were trying to pull me down and I wasn't even aware of it.

I have colleagues/friends telling me today, “You still attend workshops?” My perspective of attending workshops is that I’m being proactive. Some probably think we people are golden geese once we have completed our formal education. The sad thing is that’s what some parents and relatives think and expect much too much from their children. This leads some children into living beyond their means and in essence living a hypocritical life. Appearing they have but not having anything actually. I’m sure anyone reading this can imagine where that can most probably lead to if not corrected on time. We pay a lot of attention to rural poverty, but I often wonder if urban poverty is overlooked in the process. Many people, who belong to rural areas by census but reside in urban areas, have no assets to their names. All that many of them have is a job that provides monthly salary that goes into ever increasing recurrent expenditure. No savings. No investments. The jobs don’t make our future. The ‘I’ in us makes our future! What we do with our capability makes our future. The effect of the capable ‘I’ is our future. So, having a job doesn’t really assure your future. What you do with the job is what makes your future.

I completed my Masters in 1995! Fifteen years ago! Thanks to the government. Would I be as capable today if I were stagnant with my 1995 Masters knowledge? Stephen R. Covey’s wisdom makes us aware that we tend to miss out the fact that effectiveness does not grow with production but rather with production capability. I’m glad I chanced upon this wisdom and I embrace it wholeheartedly. People without courage look for shortcuts and end up being immoral and then end up in a terrible mess. We can see this happening to corrupt people today. We might blame corrupt behavior on external factors, but the fact is that anything that can corrupt corrupts only those that are already corruptible. And, those who are corruptible are cowards as well as selfish. They do not have the capacity to be loyal to the nation because they deprive the nation of its capacity to keep its people happy. They are hypocritical if they say they are loyal or patriotic and we are equally hypocritical to trust them or fools to be won over by their sweet talks. I think I strayed a little bit here, nevertheless not absolutely irrelevant, right?

When I say I discovered the ‘I’ in me, that doesn’t mean I stopped being a grateful daughter or a loyal citizen. In fact, I am now a Triple Gemmed Golden Goose – a Capable Individual, a Dutiful Daughter and Mother and a Loyal Citizen. I believe if we are fine as individuals, we can be effectively dutiful and intelligently loyal. I think that matters more and I believe that’s what His Majesty our Fifth King Druk Gyalpo Jigme Khaser Namgyel Wangchuck meant by “loyal intelligently.” I see myself producing better and, therefore, being sustainably useful to my parents and my country and being able to love my husband and children responsibly. The important thing is to focus on your Production Capability in addition to your Production – on the ‘goose’ as well as the ‘eggs’ - something I learnt from Stephen R. Covey’s wisdom. It’s our production capability that’ll enable us to do what we want for ourselves, our family, our community and our nation, but our focus on production must also remain. I think it is this same notion that we are talking about when we say 'human capacity building.' In other words, teaching to fish rather than giving fish. This is perhaps the essence in Honourable Lyonpo Thakur Singh Powdyel’s ‘As I am so is my Nation,’ but of course with morality emphasized. I think you cannot just be moral and not be able to produce. There has to be a balance between ‘being’ and ‘doing’ – being moral; doing the right things and doing the right things rightly to bring about measurable effect in our lives.

So, who am I today? I am a happy person. ..as simple as that. But, the happiness in me is not in just being a golden goose to others. That’s what I was when the ‘I’ didn’t live. My happiness is in being as much an individual as a member of my family and a citizen of my country. We are born as individuals and for a reason. We must respect the individual in us – not forget it! Others must also respect the individual in us. We must respect the individual in others too. Sacrifice doesn’t mean forgetting yourself. In fact, it means making yourself capable enough to do justice to your own well-being and the well-being of all others that matter. It means using our resources efficiently and effectively, which requires of us to sacrifice our undesirable desires (in other words, saying no to ourselves assertively when we demand unreasonably). When we forget ourselves, we’ve accepted defeat. A defeated person cannot make sacrifices, for then s/he has nothing to sacrifice. S/he can only lead her/himself to depression and possibly to self destruction or suicide. Think of the people who harm themselves. They do so because they have lost respect for the ‘I’ in them. They are not bad people, but victims of incapability.

Having discovered the ‘I’ in me, what can I say about what this ‘I’ wants? Basically, to have no regrets when I grow old and unproductive. No regrets that I was corrupt. No regrets that I wasted myself. Just simple happy and resting in retirement in a house of my own with a kitchen garden at the backyard and some greenery around. Happy that I was there for my parents. Happy that my children are standing on their own feet. Happy that I’m not a burden on my children. Happy that my nation’s resources are not wasted. Happy that I’m well connected to the people in the community that I live. Happy about who I turned out to be. This is the vision I have. The mission is self explanatory. Of course, if I die before 100% accomplishment of my vision, then too bad. That’ll hopefully teach the youth of today and tomorrow to start their life early.

To those who are unemployed/jobless I’d like to say,

“You’re not incapable. You just didn’t get what you’re capable of doing. Discover the ‘I’ in you. Discover your capability. Every person has talent. Discover that talent. Make it your dream and you will find opportunities that match your talent. Whatever you do, don’t give up. There are stories of people having started a new life after retirement from service – i.e. in their 60’s - and found success. Trust the 'I' in you. It matters.”

Meaningful Little Incidents

2010-01-18T01:51:00.003-05:00

I asked my little son a little while ago, "How much is 10÷20?"

He said, "Mashey."

"How much is 20÷10?"

"Two."

"So, how much is 10÷20?"

"Two. Same."

"So, Chunu, if you had ten sweets and there were twenty of you, how much would each get?"

He finally said,"Half!"

I said, "Yes!"

Then I asked, "How much is two divided by one?"

He said,"One!"

He was having toast at that time. I said, "Look. You have two slices of that toast. There is just you. How many slices do you have?"

"Two! Ah mummy, what's all this? Nga misheybey."

As I'm writing this, my son is reading and saying, "Aaaa mummy, ngagi mashey malap wai."

My son is a brilliant student in school, going to class five. Imagine! I'm a worried parent, although an excited teacher at this moment for discovering the magic of mathematics. I'm thinking, "Is this the kind of excitement that Jean Jacques Rousseau of the 18th century might have felt with Emily?"

__________________________________________

And, while I am at the subject of mathematics, let me share another incident. I happened to visit a primary school (within Thimphu). I think it was in the early 2000's. I was standing outside right next to a basketball rink. The Principal and a mathematics teacher were with me. I looked at the basketball rink and said in excitement, "Children could learn mathematics here."

The teacher (Indian) quickly responded, "No, Ma'am, they can't learn maths here. They have to learn it in the classroom." I was flabbergasted. I had thought he would share the same excitement.

I said, "Oh yeah! What about the shapes you can see? What about the measurements? Are you sure they can't learn maths here?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I never looked at it that way. I think it is possible."

I was a disturbed educator that day. I felt sorry for the children, who I imagined going through a boring learning process with the chalkboard filled with the teacher's writing.

_________________________________________

And then there was another incident I experienced with a trainee teacher during teaching practice. It was in 1996. I was one of the supervisors from the teacher training college in Samtse. We were practising at Jigme Losel Primary School. The lesson was on social studies. Students were required to observe the scenery outside and draw, so they were all seated outside with a paper and pencil in hand. I observed that the students were having a tough time looking at the mountains around and drawing with dust getting into their eyes and paper almost flying off. It happened to be a windy day, but the teacher's manual prescribed this lesson. Did it say weather no bar? No! The teacher has to use common sense. I wondered if the manual system was actually making our teachers robotic rather than creative. Teachers need to be creative and spontaneous too!

1+1 = 2 or 1+1 = 10?

2010-01-16T05:20:00.006-05:00

I remember being taught 1+1 = 2. Simple. Sensible.

And then there came 1+1 = 10 (not 'ten', but 'one zero' at base 2). Complicated! Nonsense! One zero at base two! What the hell was that? Whatever for? Anybody any idea?

While 1x1 = 1 began to be taught as 1 of 1, therefore one kind or once (as in one parker pen or a dance to Grease Lightning one time)

So, 1x2 = 1+1, interpreted as twice of the same (in this case, that same 1) or two of the same kind (as in two parker pens with one in stock, or the dance to Grease Lightning two times on being encored by the audience)

Whereas 1÷1 = 1 began to be interpreted as one person enjoying that whole one apple (Oops! watermelon for Passu)

Which is actually the same as 10÷10 = 1, interpreted as ten people sharing ten watermelons and each enjoying one watermelon (Baapre!)

Which means 2÷1 = 2 is to be interpreted as one person enjoying two watermelons (How greedy!)

Which is actually the same as 20÷10 = 2, interpreted as twenty people sharing ten watermelons and each enjoying two watermelons (provided they are shared equally)

Which then means 1÷2 = ½ is to be interpreted as two people sharing one water melon and each enjoying half of it (hopefully equally shared)

Which is actually the same as 10÷20 = ½, interpreted as twenty people sharing ten watermelons and each enjoying half a watermelon (quarter is actually quite a mouthful, isn't it?)

Yet, ½ x ½ for some is equal to 1 !!! (Actually carelessly replacing ½ + ½ )

Why is ½ x ½ not equal to 1? Because it's equal to ¼.

How? Well, if 1x1 is 1 of 1, then ½ x ½ is ½ of ½, isn't it? So, if Passu who has half a water melon were to give half of it to his daughter, then he would have one fourth left because his daughter now has the other one fourth. I think the actual act of sharing is much easier than the paper and pen calculation of the sharing.

We do a lot of mathematics in real life and often so easily, but when it comes to doing it on paper it seems complicated. Can you imagine the task of the teacher then? Don't you think that's why Learning by doing makes sense? The teacher in a classroom might show the mathematical steps on the chalkboard or whiteboard, yet not be understood by the students. The teacher might then demonstrate the steps with a water melon or sweets and the students might see it clearer now. And if the students tried it out themselves with the water melon or sweets, don't you think the whole concept would actually sink in?

So, what Confucius of over 200 years ago said makes sense even today, doesn't it?

"I hear and I forget

I see and I remember

I do and I understand"

Late Reverand Father William Mackey used to remark, "Who said Bhutanese do not know maths? Look at their dzongs. Look at their chortens. Amazing geometry! Jackpo!"

I watch little boys at the BOD (Bhutan OIL Distributors) trying to sell doma to people in the cars waiting in line for fuel. I see them doing a good job of mathematical calculations, although I'm at the same time sad that it's child labour. These same boys could actually be struggling with maths in school. Imagine!

And when I'm buying vegetables and fruit from farmers I find some of them, particularly in the east, struggling with how much money to give me back from a hundred note I've given them. Assuming this, I tried helping a Parop Aum at the Thimphu Famers' Market recently to calculate how much to return to me form a 500 note I'd given her for buying a kg of red dried chilly. She said, "Nga shey." Served me right for assuming! I then thought this Parop lady had probably become pretty used to calculations from years of such business. So, for some of the uneducated or illiterate Experience is a teacher. I guess that's where the theory of Experiential Learning came from. Is it a new theory? NO!!! Check it out!

(Oh! Remembered another incident with another Parop Aum - nothing to do with maths - at the same farmers' market. I asked if she had 'nam' to sell and she said, "Nam mee. Chhoe baynina?" My 'nam' was a sharchop word for don't know what you call it in English - served me right for using it with a Parop Aum - and hers was a dzongkha word for daughter-in-law. How hilarious!)

Coming back to mathematics.....mathematics for sure can NEVER be understood from rote learning. I knew somebody who was good at rote memorizing questions and answers. At a maths test, she remembered the answer to a question, but had forgotten the steps. She wrote down some steps any how and proudly wrote the correct answer at the end. A lazy teacher would look at the answer and give full marks, whereas a conscientious teacher would go through the steps and give a zero if the steps were all wrong. What would she have learnt from the former? That it was ok to remember the correct answer even if she didn't understand head or tail of the whole thing. Well, this is quite similar to blind faith, isn't it? Whose fault, though? The teacher for encouraging rote memorization by setting questions from the textbook!

The whole thing about knowledge not being applied has to do mostly with NOT learning with understanding, besides some of it not being relevant to our lives (such as the 1+1 = 10 at base 2). Jigme might have learnt the same physics as Tika upto class twelve, but what makes Tika an engineer and not Jigme? Well, Tika went through intense practicals after that for four long years, while Jigme continued with the theory of physics or gave it up altogether. Both learnt about electrical circuit, but Tika can actually solve electrical problems while Jigme would have to call Tika each time he has an electrical problem at home. On the other hand, sixty year old Sonam, who studied only upto class two as a naughty little boy, with no education in any of the sciences, amazingly fixes radios and electrical problems. In his case, he took interest in learning it and learnt it on his own through years of practice. He had interest and passion and, therefore, was motivated to learn. Now, isn't it obvious then that motivation is necessary to take individual effort to learn? And what gives motivation? Interest! Passion!

So, what are some key things about learning?

learning what is relevant
learning with understanding, by doing, experiencing
being motivated to learn, by developing interest and passion

This means a teacher who can ensure that his/her students are motivated to learn and is learning what is relevant and learning with understanding is basically a good teacher. Now, I leave it to you readers of my blog to think of whether a top performing graduate or a bottom performing graduate or both can make a good teacher.

(A view given on page 5 under Perspectives of Kuensel Issue dated January 16, 2010. An article on cover page of Kuensel Issue dated January 11, 2010)

Poverty - Unhappiness?

2010-01-15T08:23:00.003-05:00

Thanks, Dawa for your response to my blogpost linking to the Economics of Happiness. It has given me my topic for this new post.

_________________________________________

Exactly, Dawa, "What's poverty?" If we (Bhutan) went by our own definition on the basis of GNH, 'being unhappy' would be 'poverty.' This then means knowing what makes us happy is crucial, but do we really know? Our govt. has decided that happiness lies in the four pillars of environmental conservation, cultural preservation, socio economic equity and good governance. When we measure these, even roughly, we can tell immediately that as a nation we are less poor than we were before when social services were not accessible to many rural communities and market was not as easily accessible to rural communities - whether for marketting agri products or purchasing basic commodities for household consumption. Our environment conservation and cultural preservation, on the other hand, have consistently been our major strengths. Yes, the govt has indeed done a lot, but the question is "What have we ourselves done to contribute to our own happiness"?

My personal concern has to do with 'individual' happiness - can it come from the same source for every individual? Can it always be dependent on what the govt. does for us? What about individual capability to promote individual happiness? And what does that individual capability constitute? I think very basic simple things like lifeskills (health & hygiene; prevention of HIV/AIDS; child care and development; etc), vocational skills, emotional management, self discipline, etc. Formal School Education makes provisions mainly for bookish knowledge (that gets outdated and irrelevant by the time we are out in the real world), when what makes much more sense in the real interconnected globalized world is the process of 'learning to learn,' the cognitive ability to 'think critically' and the social ability to 'connect' with people. We are not robots to depend on what others decide what we should think and do. We have ownership over our own lives. I think it is not asking too much to be responsible owners of our lives, therefore responsible for our own happiness.

According to PHCB 2005 MOST (96.8%) of our people have claimed that they are happy or very happy, but did we find out why? Some critics say it's subjective, relative and momentary, which means for whatever reason 96.8% of our people were happy at the same moment that they were asked that question. Some other critics say that people might have just said it out of fear. Then I'd like to know about the 3.2% who had no fear. If we went by this census study, the message to the government is to focus on the 3.2% that are not very happy. Why? Maybe because they happen to be the remotest communities with no access to road, therefore more than six hours of walking from their community to the geog centre where all major facilities are concentrated. However, if the govt. must focus on the mainstream, leaving the 3.2% to NGOs, and on sustaining the tremendous progress we have made thus far, then the govt responsibility now is to generate internal revenue to clear our debts and to sustain our four pillars of GNH. We citizens have the responsibility of keeping ourselves happy without having to always depend on the government. And if our happiness were dependent on the govt. totally, then our farmers would be waiting forever to be happy with a fence around their land to defend their crops against the wild animals, to own a power tiller, a tractor or a car to make use of the power tiller tracks and farm roads leading to the social and market facilities.

This reminds me that I have to be on the lookout for "Happiness Around the World: The Paradox of Happy Peasants and Miserable Millionaires" by Carol Graham (not yet out in the market, I think). And then another post sequel to this post after reading Carol’s book. Until then ta da da dee dee dum… ♫ ♪

2010-01-13T15:24:00.002-05:00

What about the Economics of Happiness?

The facebook

2010-01-13T15:03:00.002-05:00

Starting to wonder about me in the facebook world after reading this.

Blueprint???

2010-01-12T03:03:00.002-05:00

Check this out!

GNH Education Blueprint

I think a good first step by the Education Family (sad not to be a part of it anymore, for whatever reason)...although I would've preferred Framework (less prescriptive, with room for flexibility to local needs) to Bluprint (more prescriptive, expecting it to be followed as prescribed)...

In quietude, I pray
For the Education Family to lay
The 'Education for Tomorrow' foundation
With a GNH and Democracy Mission

Educating for GNH

2010-01-12T01:47:00.002-05:00

Conversation with the Prime Minister of Bhutan, on Educating for GNH

Scroll down to December 29 post after clicking the above.

Quite an eye opener for us Bhutanese, I think....particularly the last two paragraphs beginning “I would like to see an educational system quite different from the conventional factory,..."

Going wild with (a+b)³

2010-01-10T00:35:00.009-05:00

What the hell does the following mathematical equation mean in everyday life?!

(a+b)³ = a³ + 3a²b + 3ab² +b³

Now, if ‘a’ were apples(A) and ‘b’ oranges(O), putting them together in three identical baskets would mean the same as…….

Three identical sets of apples and three of two identical sets of apples combined with one set of oranges and three of one set of apples combined with two identical sets of oranges and three identical sets of oranges, according to the above equation.

So, if each identical set of apples had 5 apples and each identical set of oranges had five oranges, then………

(5A+5O)³ = 5Ax5Ax5A + 3x5Ax5Ax5O + 3x5Ax5Ox5O + 5Ox5Ox5O

= 125A + 3x25Ax5O + 3x5Ax25O + 125O

= 125A + 125O + 75Ax5O + 15Ax25O

Meaning?

A total of 215 apples and 155 oranges packed in four ways…….

a box of 125 apples
a box of 125 oranges
a box of 75 apples and 5 oranges
a box of 15 apples and 25 oranges

Now, how did five apples and five oranges turn to such a huge number? The work of mathematics, or the work of nature?

And, how did apples become more than oranges? Mathematical error or unsuitable soil or natural disaster or unequal access?

Whatever, I couldn’t prove the equation right. Anybody would like to try?

PS.

Is this what meditation is doing to my brain? Gosh! I better be careful before I go crazy.

(Or, perhaps, meditation is necessary because of this state of my brain. Ha! Ha!)

My 2010 Actions

2010-01-08T05:16:00.011-05:00

While reading through bhutanesebloggerpost on 2010 plan I realized I needed to revisit my new year resolutions, so here I am again with my new year resolutions.

Why did I think of new year resolutions? Well, I looked at my current status. My life today. Am I living well? Am I satisfied with myself? Am I happy most times? Of course, if I consider my age, I should be doing well by now and not even think about resolutions, perhaps. But then, that's not a standard rule, is it?

I reflected on my 2009. 2008. 2007. 2006. 2005. 2004 (the year I resigned from government service). Did things go well these past years? What has been different for me from the time I used to be in government service? Has it been better? Am I happier?

Now, that's pretty difficult to assess. First of all, I need to be clear on what I want to make of my life. Has this ever been clear for me? Perhaps NOT. I never really did find myself the time to think about this. Life just went on - monotonously. And, then, BING! I woke up suddenly in early 2004. Actually an inner voice cried out to me "Enough, Tshering! Stop all this nonsense! What are you trying to prove? And, to whom?" That was it. A sudden push on the brake pedal. I shocked myself. Friends were dumbfounded. Family shocked too. And, what to imagine of colleagues at work? God alone knows what they were really thinking, but at the farewell gathering the message I got was that they thought I was "courageous." One close colleague-cum-friend even went on to say in her speech that "many others would also like to leave, but not everybody has the courage to do so." Whatever was that supposed to mean for the others? For me, it meant giving up a job that earned me my stable monthly income, without which I would probably be in a terrible mess. True in many ways, given my not-so-stable financial status at that time. Some friends had gossipped among themselves that I was being "stupid." I think they were right given the face value information they had about me. What was simmering inside was something nobody ever noticed. Well, it was just simmering, not on full fire, so I guess it wasn't noticeable.

I remember when I got my first appointment in Pemagatshel as a teacher in 1987, friends had told me, "Wai, Dolkar, don't come back three, huh" and I remember replying, "Come on, I have a long way to go; I cannot think of marriage yet; I must first be able to stand on my own feet with some savings." It had sounded so easy when I said that. Had I meant it? Of course! But, what I had not known was how to keep to it. I realize it was one of my first resolutions at the start of my new phase in life. However, within a short span of not even half the year I was married to a complete stranger and then the third family member was on its way immediately after. Savings? Chance missed. Those living or familiar with Bhutanese ways can imagine the rest that followed. I was among the modern educated lot, but beaten by time immemorial traditions of succumbing to demands that were in no way going to make my own future or of my children. Did I care, though? NO! That was the BIG mistake. I was educated enough to quickly visualize my magnificent future (castles in the air), but not WISE and SMART enough to do what it takes to make that future. I should say I was unwisely beaten. But, you know what? I thought I had begun quite well, though. I would maintain a book of accounts with all bills attached and then review them at the end of the month to check what I was spending most on and how necessary it was. I would then make a decision on what to spend and what not to spend on and how much, etc in the new month. You know what put an end to that? My own EMOTIONAL DISTRACTIONS.

Coming back to the present, I can say that I am doing better - i.e. relative to how I was doing before, not in absolute terms. So, what was it like before resigning from government service?

Life was stressful most days - even weekends!
Too many worries about others, hardly about myself
Too much worrying about office work, therefore hardly ever calm and composed and missing lunches
Too much of pleasing others and being nice, therefore, a lot of sacrifices
No personal vision, therefore hardly any personal life
Poor personal time management, therefore hardly any time for self and family
Not assertive - whether at work or at home - therefore ending up doing beyond my means
Angered easily by others' wrongs
Overspending, therefore hardly able to save
Easily distracted by emotions, therefore fluctuating in my performance - at work as well as home

So, what is it like now?

Life is less stressful.
Less worrying about others, more focus on self and immediate family
Still a lot of worrying about work, therefore still not calm and composed while working
Pleasing selectively and being nice when I need to
Have a 'draft' personal vision
Better personal time management, but still in need of further improvement
Can be assertive when I have to
Still angered by others' wrongs (e.g. corruption, lack of transparency)
Spending less, but still more than I need to
Emotions under better control, although still quite sensitive at times particularly with family members

So, what brought about the good changes? Well, first of all, I told myself, "There's much more to learn in life" and I made the effort to learn. I still do.

I read recommended books (e.g. Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, Shiv Khera's You Can Win, Bart A. Baggett's Success Secrets of the Rich and Happy, Robin S. Sharma's Who Will Cry When You Die?, Thich Nhat Hanh's Old Path White Clouds, etc).

I listened to talks/speeches (e.g. by Sogyal Rinpoche, Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, Lama Shenphen Zangpo of deerparkthimphu, Truelku Jamyang from Kalimpong, the current Indian Ambassador to Bhutan, His Majesty the Fifth King Druk Gyalpo Jigme Khesar Namgyal Wangchuck, Dasho Karma Ura, etc).

I participated in workshops (e.g. Advisory Skills by SNV, Training of Trainers by Sambodhi, School Leadership by iDiscoveri, Leadership Learning Programme by SNV, HIV/AIDS by UNICEF, CSO Workshop by Bhutan Foundation,etc)

I browsed the internet (using google search) each time I wanted to understand a new concept or correct an old misconception

I interacted with people in various informal gatherings (e.g. tea/snacks/meals with friends, colleagues, acquaintances, etc)

I watched recommended movies (e.g. at deerparkthimphu) and TV programmes (e.g. Oprah, singing and dance contests, etc)

I followed certain websites/blogs (e.g. Siddharth, Robert Holden's Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Project, Centre for Bhutan Studies, bhutanportal, the chiefhappinessofficer, bhutaneseblogger, dionthejob, Opposition Party Leader Lyonpo Tshering Tobgay, etc)

What did I learn?

In order to lead others, I've got to first lead myself. I can lead myself by being clear about my values. I discovered I had been leading myself pretty well by being serious about ethics.
A team needs a good leader. I can lead my team (including family) by being a good role model. I discovered I had unknowingly been quite a good leader to small teams.
Everybody has strengths. I discovered my real strength - training, advising. I had been wasting quite a bit of my precious time doing things I wasn't really cut out for.
Happiness is a choice. I can be happy most moments of my life as I have made the choice. (However, also accepting that little downs can't be helped, but must be managed well.)
Wealth is a decision. I may not become wealthy as wealth is not on my list of decisions.
"The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside of us while we live." I should keep my old passions alive. My very first oldest secret passion - singing and dancing. I must keep this alive too.
"Winners don't do different things. They do things differently." I can do differently what I used to do. I discovered I was focusing too much on doing different things just to prove myself and never really got down to doing anything after all.
Life is not without difficulties. Even the Buddha encountered difficulties. The difficulties can be overcome or managed with resilience. I can overcome my difficulties gracefully.

So, what did I do differently?

I turned my inner voice and passion into my personal vision and mission - "Happiness and Serving with Excellence." (By the way I keep my above mentioned secret passion alive by watching singing and dance contests on TV and also attending concerts. It gives me immense pleasure.)
I tried to be patient by building patience through disciplined mental reflections and journal writing.
I turned my complaints/grievances into motivational packages - coaching, guiding, which I used to do quite a bit already but also complain.
I focused my efforts more on providing advice and training to people as my main profession.
I turned my difficulties into 'exciting' challenges to deal with. I challenged myself into overcoming them.

What could I NOT do differently?

I could not discipline myself into daily meditation, which is believed to ease and stabilize the mind.
I could not always have lunch on time.
I could not NOT be angered by others' wrong doings.
I could not NOT spend on unrequired fancy things.
I could not NOT be hurt or distracted by my family's actions.

So, my revised resolutions (which I now prefer to call My 2010 Actions) are as follows.

Daily meditation of SIX MINUTES (as advised by deerparkthimphu Lama Shenphen Zangpo) in the morning for the whole of this year
Set my alarm on my mobile to lunch time so that I'm reminded of lunch while I'm working on my computer.
Make a list of things to buy, making sure the list does not include fancy things. (Even if I did become wealthy by sheer luck, then spending on fancy things should still not be on my agenda but rather charity. I have understood the value of money much much more now.)

I have no clue as to how to help myself not to be angered by others' wrong doings and not be sensitive about my family's actions. Any advice, anybody? Will my daily meditation actually gradually help me overcome these?

On the other hand, when I think of civil society organizations and non government organizations, if not for anger about people's wrongdoings would such organizations exist?

Until next time, adieux........

PS.
In case you wish to know some popular new year resolutions, check popular new year resolutions in the US .

(Gosh! Have I again gone and done different rather than differently?)

And, in case you need some help with how to keep your resolutions, here's Gretchen Rubin's tips. (Shhhh...I'm a fan of Gretchen Rubin, for her spirit and courage)

Another secret: I was wondering how bhutaneseblogger and Opposition Party Leader Lyonpo Tshering Tobgay linked to websites so neatly every time on their posts and then I decided to learn it. Today, I can do it too and I'm happy.

new year resolution - the journey begun well

2010-01-01T07:08:00.001-05:00

The first day of the new year was the ideal day for me to prove my resolution of quality time with my family. Yes, we were together all day - away from the monotonous home environment. I had a work deadline to meet, but this was the time of test. I decided to stay away from my computer, so that I wouldn't get tempted to switch it on. Having been in government service for almost 18 years, workaholism is one thing I seem to have grown to live with and that was exactly what had distanced me from my family. "Familiarity breeds intimacy," somebody (???) had said - I read it somewhere, don't remember where - and I had lost those moments of breeding intimacy (with my children in particular). My older son's dazed look and empty stare were what woke me up one fine day and by then he had already lost much of the precious time I could've spent with him. And, then, I noticed my bubbly daughter (oldest child), who used to run gleefully into my arms, had become frozen cold with no show of emotions whatsoever. Her face that used to light up when I was around had turned sour. Even her smiles were sourish. My youngest son, on the other hand, turned out to be the lucky one. He came out into this world at a time when I was guilty of not being around for my two older children. I was a bit more conscious of my parental responsibilities with my youngest child and, yes, we are very close and open with each other. My other two children hardly express themselves, therefore, I have to do the wild guessing of what they like, do not like, want, do not want, wish to do, not in the mood, etc etc etc. I've been compelled to learn to read their body language to the minutest detail. But, of course, my daughter has her own ways of showing she remembers her mom by not forgetting to wish me on my birthday and on mother's day. Recently she went on an institutional trip to Kolkata and she surprised me with such lovely gifts. She had bought me stuffs of my choice and then I realized how grown up she already was.

So, what did we do on the first blessed day of the new year? We went picnicking! It was a bit of an unusual kind of picnic, with a pot full of marinaded raw chopped up chicken in our packed bags. Did we just have chicken for lunch? Well, chicken was the only meat we decided on for today, hoping it wouldn't be a 'kabhi kabhi' story but rather a 'martey dam tak' kind of story for us in 2010. But, why chicken? Why not pork or beef or fish? Simple reason - chicken is a common favourite among us. And, to add to it, my husband is extremely good with chicken dishes. So, besides the marinaded raw chicken in our bags, we had another pot of already prepared chicken masala curry - the best we've tasted so far of my husband's cooking. I'm better at making butter stir fry stuffs with vegetables and vegetable soup in the pressure cooker. Not in today's menu, though. I'm no good with typical Bhutanese dishes - neither paa, nor ema daatsi. My daughter is good at red dried chilly curry with plenty of oil and some onions. Today, I tried my hand at a mixture of green chillies, white dried chillies and red dried chillies, with plenty of oil and little fresh cheese. No onions. No garlic. No tomatoes. Too much of all these already in the chicken masala curry and, oh, I forgot to mention the egg dish (hard boiled, peeled and roasted vigorously in chilly powder, onion, garlic and ginger). And, by the way, I hate amul cheese in my curry! I'd rather have it with bread or just like that. Gosh! I hope I didn't sound like Sally in the movie 'When Harry Met Sally.'

Coming back to the marinaded chicken, the picture above tells the story. This is what we did different. Something to the effect of kabab, but not exactly so. How did it turn out? Superbly fantabulous! The children loved the taste and the mood was just right. Well, that was our starter, alongwith some lemon flavour Lay's potatoto chips, fresh green chillies with salt and some finely roasted chilly powder with garlic. Of course, by the time we settled for the main meal we realized we were all pretty full.

With the river flowing right in front of our eyes, trees all around and stones of interesting shapes and sizes that could easily be turned into a piece of artwork at VAST, how could a family on a picnic not enjoy? My older son played hunter jumping from rock to rock on the river, with a stick in hand pretending to poke at fish. My daughter took on the role of photographer, but I couldn't make out if she was enjoying it. She looked as though she were missing her boyfriend, who couldn't be with us because he had to be at a puja at home. My youngest child was enjoying singing along while listening to his sister's choice of songs in her mobile. I think he's pretty good with rap songs.

When we started packing up to leave the picnic spot, it was around 3:30 pm and already looking quite dark. I guess a sign of the winter solstice tomorrow...

The children said they enjoyed the picnic. My journey through the new year resolutions had begun well.

While driving back home I announced that we needed to buy a new football. Both my sons are crazy about playing football and why not? There was the free Changjiji ground nearby to play on and make new friends.

Having seen a brochure of the new private school - Pelkhil - we tried looking for it on our way back from the picnic spot and found a huge incomplete structure and wondered how ready they were for academic session 2010. Maybe we got the wrong place...just wanted to check it out for my older son, who's waiting for the class ten results. He's confident of passing and I keep insisting it's not enough to just pass but also be qualified for class 11. So, if I'm looking for a private school for him, I guess that means I'm not confident he'll qualify for class eleven in a public school. But, if he does, he would surprise me beyond words and definitely be deserving of a special gift.

New Year Resolution

2009-12-31T11:45:00.000-05:00

My New Year Resolution IS as follows:

To be happy and keep others happy too.......

...in the following ways:

Positive talks and actions - even when emotionally charged
Watching the DEER PARK Thimphu Friday Movie at least once a month
Spending at least five minutes every morning in silent meditation
Reading about happiness at least once a month
One piece of work/assignment at a time
Spending quality time with my husband and children at least during the weekend
Calling mom at least once in two weeks
Treating myself to some fun activity at least once in three months

As you will notice, the points above have not been numbered but bulletted. This means they are all equally important and not in order of priority. In fact, they are a checklist of reminders for 2010. I reflected on 2009 and previous years and felt lacking of these might have diluted my happiness and happiness of others around me.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL reading/following my blog!

Preparing...

2009-12-29T09:36:00.000-05:00

I wish to prepare for the New Year with the thought "I made it through 2009 and I shall make it through 2010 as well." I would like to believe in 'living' the moment and entering into new moments without having to worry or regret about the moments gone by and that there's something out there waiting for my treasure of knowledge and services. I have learnt the hard way to channel my anxiety through positive lanes - whether between shacks or tall buildings or open space or forested vastness, or while driving on rough stones or dusty environment, or while walking uphill. Thanks to a God-sent stranger angel, who was my mirror for six long months that we worked together by fate/destiny some years ago. Before I met this angel, I tended to feel more of misery than the goodness of life.

Above all, I have learnt 'there is no gain without pain' for most of us. What matters is how we can turn that pain into joyful moments, such as when we are walking long hours through the forest and we rejoice at the sight of the beautiful nature around us; when we are in the middle of a training as a trainer to a bunch of bored looking trainees and we suddenly come up with a brilliant idea of how we can keep our trainees interested; when we know the dislikeable habits of our students and yet we see and focus on their strengths; and so on. With all this treasured within yourself, 2010 has to be yet another great year!

And, yes, that’s no excuse for not making my New Year resolution(s)…the prioritization of the shopping list is still pending.

Shopping list

2009-12-28T12:40:00.000-05:00

As I think of the arrival of the new year I'm wondering if I should make a few resolutions, or perhaps just one manageable resolution. My shopping list consists of the following (not in any particular order, though):

To look more into myself
To channelize my emotions into positive actions
To watch the DEER PARK Thimphu Friday movie every week without fail
To spend at least five minutes every morning in silent meditation
To watch less of TV and instead to read more
To be more patient with my parents and brothers
To spend less energy on little worries
To be more focused at work
To be more understanding of my husband's limitations even during rough times
To spend more quality time with my husband and children

I think my list needs prioritization and reordering in order of priority. Let's see if I can have one by the 31st of this month.

Honesty - or an Eyewash?

2009-12-26T08:44:00.000-05:00

A man lying on his deathbed promised God that if he stayed alive and got well he would sell his palatial house and give away the money to the poor. Miraculously, the sick man began to recover and eventually got well. He remembered his promise but could not bring himself to part with his house. So he devised a plan. He advertised to sell his house for only a token sum of one silver coin on the condition that anyone who bought the house would also buy his dog for a million dollars. Very soon, he found a buyer. He sold the house, put the million dollars in his pocket and gave the silver coin to charity. - Shiv Khera, 2003

The man kept his word, but violated its spirit.

Which?

2009-12-26T08:16:00.000-05:00

Which of the following, between the young and the old in the picture? (according to your own opinion)

1. Competition
2. Equality
3. Sharing
3. None of the above

What? Why? Where?

2009-12-24T10:48:00.000-05:00

Would you like to guess what this group of people could be making? Why? Where?

Compromising school happiness?

2009-12-09T07:35:00.002-05:00

With the initiation of Educating for GNH Workshop, I really hope we get to see 'happy' or 'happier' children and teachers in school. The messages I have got from listening to speeches about revamping the school curriculum to GNH orientation make me uncomfortable. However, I'm comforted a little after listening to the Education Minister clarify on TV yesterday that the idea is to "infuse" GNH values, "not overhaul" the whole education system.

Nevertheless, we seem to have begun with certain 'assumptions' about our existing education system and curriculum - such as, the need for incorporation of GNH values - don't we already have them? Are we going to acknowledge that? Didn't we long ago incorporate values (including appreciation for and preservation of the natural environment) into the syllabi and textbooks that were designed locally? Didn't we develop values education curriculum guidelines for schools and dedicate a period to it every week? Wasn't this intended to develop morally sound citizens, who could be trusted to participate well in promoting good governance? Didn't we Bhutanize our education system with the rationale that our children would be learning more relevant content (such as, culture and forest conservation)? We might not have specified GNH as the driving force for curricular revisions in the past, but the essence was GNH. The TV announcement that the workshop participants would be looking into "what was working and what wasn't" was comforting and I sincerely hope it's true. In addition, the Education Secretary's clarification on TV (BBS) this evening that "there might already be GNH in our curriculum" was quite encouraging too.

I remember we initiated a lot of changes/reforms in education over a course of many years with the rationale that later got named GNH. Both the rationale for educational reform in the past and GNH as a developmental guiding philosophy and uniquely Bhutanese ideology came from the same source (Monarch). That's how I looked at it. Today, it appears to me that we are attempting to put the old wine into new bottles with new brand names, earning new companies universal popularity unjustifiably (idiomatically speaking). First of all, it's surprising that 'GNH in Education' has suddenly hit the headlines when we were actually already learning and living GNH values (to my thought at least). What was perhaps not certain was whether we were maximizing individual potential to live a decent life. Do our people have adequate knowledge and skills to earn their livelihood? On this evening's Educating for GNH panel on TV (BBS), there was mention of the combination of head-heart-hand-home, which was refreshing to hear but again 'old talk with new garnishing.'

I had once listened to "Improvement of the same" on the national TV channel about a year ago. It seems to make a lot of sense now, justified by the so-called all time practical realities. I remember it had further been justified that our people did not want change. If we are still going to be talking about traditional teaching methodology in a 'democratic' setting, then our strategy for not changing is already designed. Nothing more to think of, nothing much to do... complacency well bred... critical thinking a matter of the head no more...

Above all, what I personally find ironical is that we are openly admitting we are behind in our GNH implementation or actions, while some of us had been feeling proud not just of the uniqueness of the ideology but also in the belief that we were making progress. Our major indicators as some of us see them are as follows:

- Our maintenance of 70% forest coverage...

- Our well preserved unique traditional culture and its ever expanding exhibition and recognition worldwide...

- Our more than three quarters households with access to basic social facilities and services, in the promotion of equitable development....

- Our radical political changes and system of local government, in the promotion of good governance...

- Our 'peace' grown from the germination of the seeds of values sown in us during our education at home and school...

- Our almost 100% population claiming to be happy, with about half claiming to be very happy according to PHCB 2005...

But, for our nation to sustain itself it must continue to mobilize resources through internal revenue generation. It is a wonder how that is possible without a huge export potential, which two of the pillars of GNH actually provide scope for. Need I point them out...?

If there really is fear of the consequences of consumerism in the GNH Land, then I suppose we will be led into proving ourselves good practitioners by not allowing our youth to study in international schools or universities, where they are exposed to western ideas and their association with democratic ideals and principles. Unless, of course, we are certain the whole world is now going to go the GNH way... In the same spirit, I suppose it will be ensured that no single individual or group - whether rich or poor, influential or not, powerful or not, authority or not, urban or rural - has excessive access to resources at the expense of others being deprived of the minimum basic requirement. How realistic or practical is this going to be? Isn't it more likely that the poorer sections of the society will continue to remain poor in the pretext of being non materialistic and the haves will have more by virtue of their self sustaining means, however, not affecting the GNH measurement?

Deep in my heart, though, I keep wondering if our school children and teachers are going to be seen happy after the ideas from the 'Educating for GNH' Workshop are implemented in schools in repackaged forms, giving the notion that they are doing different things when they are actually doing things differently. I imagine teachers feeling demoralized once again for lack of recognition of their GNH oriented efforts. (I leave that to teachers to confirm or rule out...)

In other words, are we going to be compromising on the happiness of our schools in aspiring for something that has always been a part and parcel of our society? I wonder...

We had the same thing happening when corruption started becoming a national concern with the identification of increasing number of corrupt cases. Schools and colleges became the target for ethics education, as if we didn't already have it!

Devika's story

2009-12-07T12:15:00.001-05:00

Buddha said, “My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.” This is what Devika’s story illustrates.

Devika started her adult life as a simple woman, with no ambition of becoming famous or rich but with the humble wish of conducting herself in the best interest of all sentient beings. She resided in a one-room quarter, which served the purpose of both bedroom and kitchen. It was in a remote place – in fact, one of the remotest – with no electricity those days. But, those were golden days for her. She had the satisfaction of having made her clients happy and one day wiser each day. From a rural setting, Devika landed in the most highly urbanized centre of the kingdom – the capital – not out of her own choice but by virtue of being the wife of a man whose time had arrived for a new posting. This virtue kept taking her back and forth from rural to urban till some unfortunate turn of events landed her in the capital once again and for the final time.

Her days of distress, however, began with the arrival of the lustful man named Ravan. Nothing she did was ever good to him. She was scorned. She was humiliated. She was made to feel little. She was made to feel vulnerable. Ravan was in power. He was in control of people’s movements within the empire. People were rewarded positions if they pleased him. People suffered from continued humiliation if they did not please him. Devika watched and waited while he made positions for people he favoured and denied her husband the position he deserved. She was nobody. Her husband was nobody. They both could do nothing. Ravan had the power to do everything. It was like a game of chess, but Devika was not the pawn in the game. Neither did she allow her husband to be so. Those who were did not realize it. They were perhaps blinded by the belief that their future was made in the hands of this self proclaimed super hero. The cynical truth was that he was mean to Devika because she did not respond to his dirty advances. He had wished to add her to his hundreds of mistresses.

What became of Devika eventually? She left the kingdom to make her own destiny. She got to where she desired to be. She was empowered. She owned her life. She did what she desired to do. She earned what she deserved to earn. She enjoyed recognition for her ideas. She built credibility in the international arena. She now resides happily among the devi-gods, her praises being sung on earth.

What became of Ravan? He landed where he never imagined he would ever be. His dreams were all shattered. His image was marred. His self esteem was destroyed. He was stripped of all power. He was sent in exile. He could only repent and spend his time in prayer. His spirit is said to be roaming still between heaven and hell, begging to be liberated while people on earth choose to erase him totally from their memory. He is their bad dream, their nightmare.

And, all those who played the pawn in Ravan’s chess game were neither in the palace nor on the streets. Neither were they capable enough to live a dignified life with a decent earning. They fell into the trap of dependence forever. Their spirit is believed to be roving in the hope of being rewarded a position among the devtas by Ravan’s spirit.

Devika appeared in people’s vision and said, “Believe in the spiritual force that has the power to pull you into the arms of warmth and kindliness or push you into the steely cold of the dark dungeon.”

Rights of the Child

2009-12-04T05:55:00.002-05:00

My first post is dedicated to the commemmoration of 20 years of Convention on the Rights of the Child.

I think it is a moment for all of us to reflect on our actions and to restrategize our efforts with renewed vigour and spirit. Here in Bhutan, we now have the 'Constitution' that clearly states the basic principles, rights and duties related to the child; the new yet-to-be-formed local governments to take forward the cause; and the civil society gearing up to support the cause through resource mobilization and advocacy. I think we are more ready than ever before with our institutional strengths and driving forces.

At the individual family level:

Our emotional 'love' for our children cannot be debated, but what needs taking care is provision of an 'environment' conducive to the child's holistic development right from age zero. We forget what we are feeding the child when we mothers consume excessive alcohol with the child inside the womb. We forget what we are exposing the child to when we consume excessive alcohol in front of him/her on a daily routine basis and resort to violence. If we love our child as we claim we do and we know we do, we must love responsibly. This, I think, is a first step to child protection and not a responsibility of the government but an individual responsibility.