We Are the Family of RASTA

We are the Family of Bad Group

“We Are the Family of RASTA,” wrote class VIII A of Darla MSS on their classroom’s wall. It is right in front of teachers eyes. Instead of writing good proverbs and sayings, they wrote this graffiti on the wall. I am seeing this today, as I had an invigilation duty for the class VI common exam there. How careless and ignorant have we been in the school? Had I seen it before, I would have discussed it with the class teacher or the school administration. But I will talk about this for sure.

Rasta was everywhere in the class. See, even the cello taping are of a Rasta symbol

Class VIII A students knew the meaning of Rasta, and I guess they have been following this. The term Rasta refers to marijuana and cannabis. It also refers to the street dealing in drugs. Rasta began in Jamaica and it’s a kind of religion where they believe drugs could raise them and it is the way of life which is called Rastafarianism. They consider that cannabis is spiritual to use and it cleans the body and mind, heals the soul, exalts the consciousness, facilitates peacefulness, brings pleasure, and brings them closer to God. They have a leaf of the marijuana plant as a symbol. It basically is the deadliest drug group.

Our parents and teachers must be so mindful of what children write and do at times. We must go through each letter and each word.

And this year, many drug-related problems were from class VIII A. Blame it on this RASTA.

And there was a pamphlet saying 'Say No to Drugs.' on that same wall. Did they listen?

Do you have Any Workshop?

NOOO...NOTHING....

As the 2014 year is drawing closer to an end, most teachers are going for workshops and some short term skills trainings. But for some teachers like me, it’s the same story. There are a few teachers from my school who went for invigilation duty, visiting examiners, and things like that, but most of them have to spend their meager monthly salary during this winter themselves. And ME, like many years, I have been sticking here in the school so humbly. Nothing of sorts was provided to me. Things like invigilation duty come once every ten or more years. It surely is once in a blue moon opportunity for many teachers. And there is a story about this un-missed opportunity. In 2007, there was a lady teacher who came for an invigilation duty, all the way from Haa to Punakha. She had put up in an expensive hotel; she almost paid nu.400 per night besides her foodings with her two children. An unbelievable thing was her DA, which was only nu.300. When asked about the purpose of coming for duty she said that she wouldn’t miss her golden opportunity. She seems crazy, but it’s true. Ok, that is another story.

But for some teachers, workshops, seminars, evaluation, duties, etc have been unending blessings. The same person would go one after another. I heard one can avail such opportunity if one knows people in MOE, BCSE, etc, and has a connection. I also heard that if one was a lady, she would get. I am none of them.

There would be nominations from the school, and when it’s the time for selection someone would be nominated already. These nominations are done purely to showcase everything is fair, to say that it went through proper process and channel; grassroots level, and for document records if any problem arises from ACC, and other people.  That is for sure.

As of now, I don’t have any kind of workshop, even news are far behind for me. Other than this workshop, I have to go to Shakti workshop or Durga workshop in Jaigion. My car needs a cool workshop to function well.

Winter Days

Wintery view from my House

This is a time. And not just any time—it is the time for ending. The flowers are withering up like old uncles after a long wedding. The brown leaves of trees are falling one by one, each one whispering, "I told you autumn was coming." There have been times of glory—growing, sprouting, and blooming. There were times when birds sang joyfully, hunting for fresh food like tiny feathered bandits. There have been times of rain and sunshine. There have been times… and now, this is the time when everything is coming to an end. The year is drawing to a close. New curtains are folding inside out, probably because someone installed them wrong. What brings a new? Good question. Let's find out together.   Our exams are almost done. The product of a year's learning—sweat, tears, and a surprising amount of doodling—is nearly at its final result. Children are happy. Parents are happy about their smooth sailing throughout the year. (Or maybe just happy that the children are back home and not asking for pocket money.) Wish them so much luck ahead. They will need it when the report cards arrive.

The winter season in most parts of Bhutan is not exactly a time for celebration. Nobody is dancing in the streets. Nobody is singing about snowflakes. Instead, everybody is in a restive mood—the kind where you want to move but your blanket says no. The chilly northern winds bundle people into so many layers of clothing that we all look like walking onions. Moving becomes difficult. Walking to the kitchen feels like climbing Everest. Most people remain inside their homes, sitting around bhukharis and room heaters like penguins huddled for survival. Many are drinking warm ara or bangchang—not because they want to, but because the cold leaves them no choice. It's medicinal, really. And this is also the time to gather and talk. A whole lot of talking. About the year's work. About plans ahead. About whose cow wandered into whose potato field. About whether the government will finally fix that road. About everything and nothing. I wish them so much luck ahead. And also a thicker blanket.

Let us take a moment to appreciate the bhukhari. That humble, sooty, heat-spewing iron box is the true hero of Bhutanese winter. It asks for nothing but firewood. It gives everything—warmth, comfort, and the occasional burn on your shin when you sit too close. It doesn't judge you for wearing the same socks three days in a row. It doesn't complain about the smoke that fills the room. The bhukhari is loyal. We do not deserve the bhukhari. .

Bhukhari

Here at Darla, it's no better than any other place. In fact, it might be worse. The temperature drops to minus at this time of year. Minus! That's not a temperature. That's a warning. On top of that, it has been drizzling for so many days now. Not heavy rain. Not a storm. Just a slow, miserable, relentless drizzle that soaks into your bones and stays there. The winds cut through clothes and skin, turning bodies into icy iron statues. I half expect to see myself rusting. The good news—and there is good news—is that we will soon migrate to the lower, southern, warmer parts of Phuntsholing and Gelephu. Yes. Migration. Like birds. But with more luggage and less grace. Soon, we will feel the sun again. Soon, we will shed our onion layers. Soon, we will complain about the heat instead. And that, my friends, is the circle of life in Bhutan.

Unsafe Glass Windows

Safe windows with the railings

Last time in one of the houses in Gedu, there was an incident of an accident where a boy was hospitalized because he fell from the window. There were also so many incidents of so many children's death felling from the windows.

What type of windows do you have in your home?  Is it with railings or without it? If you have observed nowadays, we have beautiful glass windows without any railings. They are like huge doors on the wall. There is nothing like bars, handrails or sorts.  Because of these unsafe windows, I have heard people breaking into houses and stealing things. Not only are these windows safe for small children but also for elders. A child may lean on the window and hoops… opens up the window and trip over-dead.  I personally feel these types of windows are ways to untimely death and materials lost. They are the un-mindful traps to death and burglary activities.

Why do we build houses with such glassy windows with no bars and no protections? Do they look nice to have white windows? Some people are so unmindful that they forget to close the windows with curtains. And the electricity being very cheap here in Bhutan, we don’t bother to put off the whole night. The result, outside peepers, could see happenings inside the house. Some peepers are so curious to wait a whole night to see the show.

I think our builders should think about new glassy windows without bars. The windows must not only be beautiful but also safe and protective.

Unsafe Windows without railings

100 Years are Still 100 Years Back

We human can never know the nature of the world; its mysteries and its miracle. We can never defeat the mysterious nature, and we can never understand this. And the fact is we cannot change nature; its work and its fate.  Everything is predestined and programmed like it should be, they say. For example, a Malaysian airplane has been missing for months now and is difficult to track. How satisfactory equipped we are? What developed technologies do we have? We will have to follow the law of nature. Everything succumbed to Mother Nature.

Humans think that we are moving ahead. Our sciences and technologies are conquering the world. After 100 or more years, there would be technology that could build a beautiful house when you press a button. Everyone would have wings to fly. Everyone would have robots to work. People would become so lazy that they would be resentful switching a button. ETC…  But these 100 years are still 100 years backward. For example, we cannot create another earth. We cannot lengthen our life after 100 years or so. We cannot deny the fact, that the truth is truth, and we cannot deny the almighty God.  

Nature is so original. We human duplicate what was already there. We try to change that original natural thing, which in turn destroys us. The pure gold is stained and tarnished. I think we are making ourselves complicated because we are not able to understand the basic nature of nature.  One thing we must understand is we cannot go beyond the will of anyone; be it person, nature or god. We are doomed.