Well, I was supposed to be at Thimphu on 22nd . But I was all around Bhutan by 20th itself because BBS Dawa peeled few layers out of me during a live panel discussion on BBS related to housing and business problems in Phuentsholing. My six years old son thought I looked like a dumbo on the stage with sweats kneading down my chin. Even by 23rd noon, I was still in the office sorting my paper. I was desperate now. Maybe my fellow panelists from City Corporation needed to help me by sending a garbage truck and few people to clean my mess. It took me another hour to help me sort out everything before I could drive to Thimphu. That was about being an office-goer.
There is this another side of me, a small part time writer. So this writer side of me had stolen some time between the lazy office time to write pieces of stories, poems and critical essays. Once in a while, this writer side of me gets some compliments by getting to travel and keep me off the work and this time too I was lucky to have been invited to Oslo. Well, everything was ready. It is just that I was still on the road. When I reached Olakha, I called Pem Deki. She owed me Vodka. I deserve a Vodka. Actually, I needed a Vodka. I needed a Vodka because the part left by my ex-girl needed to be filled with something else. Filling it with dry straw didn't make sense. This is how I justify myself to drink. Isn’t that strong enough?
Well, when I reached Pem Deki’s house, I was kind of nervous. Her two children and her husband were waiting for me. So I opened my bag and handed over the gifts I had brought along for the kids. They were not very impressed. I thought all children loved candies but I guess Pem Deki’s children were disciplined. This was the first time I was coming face to face with Pem Deki’s husband too. He looked huge and bearly with his height and lots of hair on his body but he was nice and friendly. So we sat there talking and drinking. Well, Pem Deki and her husband drank tea and I was the only one drinking Vodka. Over few hours of drinking, eating and talking, I realized how beautifully Pem Deki had managed her family. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the sacrifices she had put to keep her family together. Very few people in Bhutan would blend family and work like Pem Deki and her husband did. I was jealous of them now. My marriage had broken down two years ago and relationship in between had been torn apart. There was this loneliness creeping inside like a venomous serpent but here was one family which showed me where I went wrong. I guess it was time for me to squeeze past many things in my life to get it straight but before that I needed to get up from the sofa. I asked Pem Deki’s six years old daughter to help me stand on my feet. When I was finally up, I picked her up and kissed her. As always I struggled to my car and after that I forgot how I reached my sister’s house.
When I woke up next morning, I wasn’t sure if I was dead or alive. Whether I was dead or alive didn’t matter now. I was getting late for the flight. So without a second thought, I rushed to my car and shot to the airport. I was there just as the gate was closing. Since I was the last guy to check in, I got the seat near the toilet. It was a double advantage for me. I could go to the toilet without having to swing myself on the aisle and I could also ask for one shot of bloody mary to get rid of hang over.
While in Bangkok airport, I found a place to sleep until 1 in night. When I woke up, I was getting late again so I rushed with a Heineken in my hand. I was laughing at myself as I sipped the beer. I guess blessings are rushed sometimes so much so that we need beer and not vodka to handle the rush. So I have now softened myself from Vodka to beer. Maybe someday, I would be more soft when I transit to juice.
...During my university days, one of my professors told me the story of an eagle. It is said that the eagle lives for over 70 years. But during its 40 th year, it has to make some hard decisions. Its long and flexible talons can no longer grab its prey. Its long and sharp beak becomes bent. Its old, aged and heavy wings, due to their thick feathers, stick to its chest and make it difficult to fly. Then, the eagle is left with only two options: either to die or go through a painful process of change which lasts for over six months. The process requires that the eagle fly to a mountaintop and sit on its nest. There the eagle knocks its beak against a rock until it plucks it out. Then the eagle will wait for a new beak to grow back. Then it will pluck out its talons The talons are what an eagle uses to catch food. To pluck them out would not only be extremely difficult and painful, but would also take away their ability to provide food for themselves. When it's new
When one of the FCB staff told me that the management had called staff meeting asking them not to write anything in bhutanliterature.blogspot.com, I had a mixed feeling of both sadness and happiness. I was sad because people would be left in darkness if the people no longer commented and the suppression of any unethical would be taken to new heights. The comments passed on by many staff in my blog updated staff and others across the world about what was happening in FCB and how staff digested it. In absence of grievance redressal or whistleblower policy in FCB, the erstwhile FCB management was on wild elephant rampage, and as a result, the staff had no choice but to vent their frustrations through my blog. They needed a channel to pass on the message to the management that not all things are tolerated and the world outside needed to know that something was not going right in FCB. I think their messages, even if it was in its crudest form and language, have been delivered and rem