Kidnapping is a Huge Business in Sarpang

No wonder everything happens for money. One would sell one's father, mother, brother, sister—anyone—for money. One would kill, murder, and transform one's beliefs for money. Never wonder: one could do everything under the sun just for money. Because of all this, I have begun to lose trust, and I am now a tough person to convince. I seldom believe anyone easily enough to let the cat out of the bag. And it is very hard to count on people like that sometimes. Anyway, people have become evil now. There is an old Buddhist saying: the world does not change; it is the people who change. Time tells us so.

The Sarpang kidnapping cases have become quite alarming. Within a short span of time—three months—four kidnappings were carried out. And they were executed very badly, almost casually, as if kidnapping had become easy. A taxi driver was dragged from the main road and held for more than three weeks. An old man, around sixty years old—like my father—was beaten and pulled out of his house in the evening, also held for three weeks. And very recently, a student was kidnapped from a bar in broad daylight in Sarpang town. The good thing was that everyone saw the act, but nobody even dared to fart. As for the police… everyone knows police work is to chase dogs. During this student's kidnapping, the police may have been snoring, with their unloaded guns pointed toward their own two big eggs.

Not so much to worry about, they say. The deals will be made very soon, and the victims will be returned—though mentally tortured and with an illness that will exhaust them for the rest of their lives. The ransom price for that taxi driver was a bit lower than for the old man. And I think there will be a price hike for that boy. There is no fixed price as such. Inflation and deflation keep going. The last price for an old man was Nu. 500,000. Five lakhs is so much for a poor student now. I hope our government negotiates the price and brings the boy back home safely.

But seriously, border areas have become unsafe places to live in. Commodities may come cheap, but one has to risk one's life to live there. Sarpang, Phuntsholing, Samtse, Samdrup Jongkhar, and Ngalam—all bordering India—have become dangerous places to live. People have no peace of mind; nobody knows who the next victim will be. Some media reports show how worried people are about their security. Last time, some officials from Assam visited Sarpang and promised that such incidents would not be repeated. Despite that assurance, the violence continues. How shameful is that? Can we believe people now? I bet you—don't believe it so easily.

Now, stop playing the blame game. Every one of us must be alert. Carry a patang or a knife inside your gho. Or learn taekwondo or martial arts. Be in groups of trusted people. Travel together with people you know. Above all, our government must do something very quickly. That something could be higher and tighter security alerts, secret agents placed in different areas, and tighter border security.

Our border with India is very porous, making it easy for many goondas to escape after creating enough trouble inside. Even a single mosquito shouldn't pass through our borders. But according to the police, from the apprehended lists last time, some mosquitoes are already in our land. They have formed a kind of partnership business with their Indian counterparts. Business is business, after all. The sons of the Kingdom of Bhutan want to abduct their own people. There is a Dzongkha saying: "Zayang bangchung nang za, awa tang yang bangchung nang tang." A rough adaptation could be: "Eat from the plate and defecate on the same plate." So here we are. You don't have to go far in search of the soul—the soul is very much within you. The deadliest enemy comes from the most known and friendliest people. In Bhutan, it is our own people, and that is a real shame for all of us. We believe in good. Our farmers are humble and happy. We trust each other. But what makes them turn their world upside down? I think it is money. Don't crave too much. We are a GNH country. No wonder.