A Song to be Noted

I like this song ‘Complain’ from the film Bob Roberts lyrics, The Vandals. I am reproducing here in my blog. I have been busy these days and didn’t get time to write.  

Some people must have.
Some people have not.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Some people will work.
Some simply will not.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Like this: It’s society’s fault I don’t have a job.
It’s society’s fault I am a slob.
I have potential no one can see.
Give me welfare. Let me be me!

Hey, Bud, you’re livin’ in the Land of the Free.
No one’s gonna hand you opportunity!

Some people must have.
Some never will.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

I don’t have a house. I don’t have a car.
I spend all my money getting’ drunk in a bar.
I wanna be rich. I don’t have a brain.
Just give me a handout while I complain.

Or this: I wanna stay in bed and watch TV.
Go out weekends in a limousine
And dance all night takin’ lots of drugs
And wake up when I wanna.

Hey, Bud, you’re livin’ in the Land of the Free.
No one’s gonna hand you opportunity!

Some people will learn.
Some never do.
But they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.
Yeah, they’ll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Phuntsholing in Winter

Winter is not really winter in a place called Phuntsholing. I mean, you won’t be freezing or frolicking in snow. Instead, you’ll be sweating in traffic. It remains one of the busiest places, and commerce thrives during this time of the year. People from the highlands move down to the lowland south in winter—like birds, but with more luggage and fewer wings.

Southern towns like Phuntsholing, Gelephu, Samdrup Jongkhar, and Samtse see their populations multiply overnight. During summer, the opposite happens—the damp heat of the southern belt pushes most people back upward, as if the towns themselves are exhaling.

Phuntsholing receives the highest number of people during winter. People come from all over Bhutan for numerous reasons. Some come to bask in the warm winter sun. Most come for trade—to sell oranges, potatoes, and other goods. Others come to shop for school children, to visit, or to attend a religious ceremony. Consequently, Phuntsholing becomes crowded, dusty, and at times dangerous. A man was badly beaten up last night for no apparent reason. The reason? Probably someone took the last parking spot.

The religious ceremony conducted by His Holiness Namkhai Nyingpo Rinpoche draws a huge number of people from all over the world, including India (Sikkim), Nepal, and elsewhere. It’s a spiritual gathering with earthly crowds.

Everything is good in Phuntsholing except for money and places to stay. Every household receives numerous guests: children, parents, relatives, friends, and friends of friends—and friends of friends of friends who somehow know your aunt. The house where I am staying currently has ten guests, and at times the number rises to twenty. Twenty! That’s not a house. That’s a hotel without a reception desk.

What a crowd to attend to! It looks like a Lochey (a religious ceremony held at home)—except nobody invited half these people. The most challenging times in such a house are sleeping and eating. Meals are not prepared by a single cook but by several. Kilograms and kilograms of rice are boiled in three large rice cookers. You haven’t known fear until you’ve seen three rice cookers hissing at you simultaneously.

At bedtime, bodies lie scattered on the floor like corpses—some even without mattresses or blankets. You step over legs, arms, and the occasional snoring uncle. It is such an uncomfortable home to be in. Everyone behaves their best to impress the host. Smiles are frozen. Burps are suppressed. My cousin, our host, is good. He doesn't change. He remains the same throughout: simple and straightforward. While the rest of us are performing, he’s just being himself. Annoying, isn’t it?

Now, when I talk about change, I always think of it in a slightly strange way. People change. A few people change a great deal. There was once a loudmouthed non-performer who impressed higher bosses with his lip service. A real talker. A doer of nothing. He was a good friend—same grade, same kind of standard. But when he became the boss, the world turned upside down. Besides becoming a boss and changing his attitude, he changed his attitude toward others. He forgot his friend. He never talked. He never helped. He was useless to his friend. What kind of change is that? That’s not promotion. That’s personality deletion.

I tell people—especially my students, and whenever I have the chance to speak on occasions—that they must not change in certain ways. You can change. Your ideas must change. Your living standard must change. Your attitude will change. But you must never change your heart. I tell them to be good. Goodness is the basis of everything. Do good, be good, and good things will come back to you.

And also, if you have a mattress and a blanket, please share. Because in Phuntsholing in winter, the only thing colder than the weather is the floor at 2 AM.

Chiphen Rigphel Project Training

The Chiphen Rigphel Project workshop commenced on December 23, 2013, and will conclude on January 1, 2014. The ten-day workshop is currently being held at Gelephu Higher Secondary School. There are 22 participants from two dzongkhags—Zhemgang and Sarpang. According to the name list from the Ministry of Education, more than 28 participants were expected. However, many enlisted teachers did not turn up for the training. An apparent reason, supported by hearsay, is related to the benefits they are entitled to receive. "Teachers coming from faraway places like Bjokha are not provided with mileage, porter, pony, or other allowances. They ended up spending more here than what they earned," said a teacher who requested anonymity.

The participants are being taught basic computer skills, including how to use Microsoft Word, Excel, PowerPoint, and basic internet applications. The training aims to equip them for the ICT world.

One of the resource persons, Mr. Dawa Tshering, said that the project aims to teach everyday computing knowledge. "We have many senior participants who have never worked on computers before, but it is satisfying to see that they show interest and learn considerably," he said.

"Format Painter, Excel filtering, Google Drive, Wizards, and some other features are new to me. It's worth attending," said Mr. Ugyen Dorji, one of the participants. "We still have more days to go," he added with a smile.

Here are some photos:

A Group Pic

Dawa doing presentation

Another one

So Engrossed

And Engrossed

Movies Move Mind

A few weeks ago, I watched a Bhutanese movie called Acho Kelden in Darla Hall. The film deals with general family issues. A couple gets divorced and leaves their children behind in a village. One of the underlying reasons appears to be the lust for money—something Bhutanese people are often accused of. The story narrates how an infant survives with the help of animals. Overall, the plot is quite unique compared to most other Bhutanese movies. However, the sad thing about Acho Kelden was the number of audience members who turned up. I looked around and counted only sixteen people sitting on the ramshackle benches. The hall resembled a ruined house—a ghastly one. There were a few broken benches, dusty and grimy; everything was in horrible condition. Some viewers sat on the cement floor in the chilling cold weather.

After watching Acho Kelden and witnessing the condition of the hall, scores of questions came to my mind. Why do most Bhutanese movies run at a loss? Why has Bhutan not succeeded with our films? Why are Bhutanese people not skilled at producing better movies? What is lacking in our entertainment industry?

Bhutan has a rich, diverse, and varied history. We have so many untold stories. Our people are rich in experience; each one of us has many things to share. Every stone, every tree, every valley, every hill, every mountain, and every village has a story to tell. There is a Galem and Singye in every hamlet. There is an Amrish Puri or a Phurba Thinley in every hamlet. There are unsung heroes everywhere. We are not short of stories. But we are short of an audience.

I believe we are not devoid of a market or an audience—people do want to watch—but we lack good places for screening. Back in my village in Pemagatshel, the villagers are hungry for Bhutanese movies. I am confident that Acho Kelden, even at the same price of Nu. 50, would draw more than a hundred viewers there.

It is often said that our culture and traditions are slowly weakened by media—entertainment mediums like television, live shows, films, and talk programs. These media have a great impact on our society, not only changing the way people think but also altering lifestyles. Therefore, we must be careful about which movies are allowed to be watched. For that reason, BIMCA censors movies. On the other hand, entertainment mediums can also be preservers and custodians of a nation's culture, traditions, and customs. Movies and documentaries are great sources of knowledge. Not only do some of us imitate the best performers, but we also sometimes come to believe what we see. Therefore, in order to bring Bhutanese movies to our hungry audience, we need good distribution systems and good entertainment venues—especially halls or theaters. We need good buildings with proper stages, quality sound systems, and other facilities. Such halls would also serve as meeting places for local communities. Ideally, good halls should be built in every gewog, or if possible, in every chiwog.

In this way, we could promote our own films and Drukpawood, and promote our own shows, thereby educating people through our own traditions. Not only that, we would create many job opportunities in this industry and generate significant revenue. We would likely see fewer drug users and less crime overall, because such venues engage people and give them a second thought.

Our neighbor India has a very strong and prosperous film industry because almost every small town has very good cinema halls.

Bhutan does not have many good theaters. We have some in Thimphu, Phuntsholing, Samdrup Jongkhar, and Gelephu. But these are not really theaters—they are simple halls. All of them lack good sound systems and technical quality. The size and cleanliness of these halls could easily put them in Grade G.

I have also been thinking about our live shows and singing contests like Druk Superstar, Bhutan Star, Talent Hunt, and similar programs. These reality shows remain simple, but they lack quality compared to similar shows elsewhere. The low quality of filming, poor sound, weak presentation by participants, and drab backgrounds make these shows not very presentable for national television.

I hope our government will look into this matter and establish good theaters across the country. I am ready to contribute a small amount to help build good theaters in Bhutan.

I also hope that live shows will improve their broadcasting quality. Furthermore, I hope the entertainment industry introduces different types of shows—such as dramas, skits, and comedy programs. Singing contests like Druk Star and Talent Hunt may be good ways of making money, but often the money feels unethically earned when the quality of presentations and participants remains so low.