The Blessed Country & The Reawakening (2) 25/02/25

The Blessed Country & The Reawakening 

The Blessed Country, BHUTAN :

Back in the mid-80s, I was a frustrated youth. I was the only student out of 19 in a government college, not to have secured the honours marks in English. With the prospect of remaining unemployed for the rest of my life looming large, I simply didn’t know what to do with my life.

I was not exactly penniless as I was earning a meagre amount by giving tuitions. Then in 1988, I joined a bilingual magazine called “Anubad Patrika” by courtesy of a relative. I got employed as a Sub-Editor. The first few months passed off rather well. I was translating, writing for the magazine, and meeting some great writers of Bengal. But the pay was a downer.

One fine evening, while I was going through the most popular English daily at that time, The Statesman, I chanced upon an advertisement from the Royal Government of Bhutan trying to recruit teachers from India. Consequently, I applied for the post of a teacher, appeared at the Viva Voce and Written Test at the prestigious St. Xavier’s College, Kolkata, and got through.

No one in my family had heard about BHUTAN at that time. Naturally, my family was against it. But my frustrations having got the better of me, I left for the neighbouring country much against my family’s wish. I have already written so much about BHUTAN that I do not want to repeat expressing the same sentiments about most of those unforgettable days. It took me nearly 3 days to get to Bhutan from Bongaigaon in Assam. I walked across the border and stayed in a hotel called U-Me. The Manager was a young lad and we hit it up within no time. When I sauntered up to the Bus Station in the afternoon to book the ticket to my final destination, Bumthang, there was bad news waiting for me. Due to a heavy roadblock, no vehicles were plying up and down. I got stuck in the border town of Geylekphug for the next twelve days, as my luck would have it.

I missed my space within the boundaries of my ancestral home, my people and a lot of other things. But what kept me hopeful was the scenic beauty of Bhutan. With the gorgeous mountains all around and the golden paddy fields stretching across the plains, Bhutan simply hypnotized me at the first sight.

Thanks to Gyeltshen, the Manager, I stayed in the best hotel in Geylekphug for close to two weeks. I was getting apprehensive no doubt, as I was gradually running out of money, and except for Gyeltshen, I knew not a soul in the Himalayan country.

Things started looking up when I met the Regional District Education Officer. An amicable man, he assured me of all help. After a wait of twelve days, the block got cleared and I found myself boarding a Bumthang-bound bus. Bumthang is said to be ‘The Switzerland of Bhutan’. By the time we arrived at Trongsa in the evening, the sun had long gone down. I nearly cried out when the boiled rice I had ordered for dinner, proved too much to swallow. But what was harder to bear was when the bus driver informed us that we, the passengers, had to get up in the wee hours of the morning to get into the bus. 

By the time we reached Bumthang at around 8.30 in the morning, the scenic beauty all around was breathtaking, to say the least. My idea of beauty till then was the Indian hilly town of Darjeeling. Bhutan not only made me fall in love with this majestic country but also gave a new meaning to my life. 

I was a shy-type, cowardly, dependent, selfish youth. Bhutan taught me to be confident, brave (especially after the night-hunting experience), and a self-made man. A far more better human being than I could have ever aspired to be.

It seems strange to me after all these years that I stayed in the glamorous country for close to three decades, and within this period of time, I was never cheated, never picked up a quarrel with anyone! The country welcomed me with open arms and made a fairly competent teacher of a failure student. The cherry on the cake was when I was awarded His Majesty, the fifth hereditary ruler of BHUTAN’s Gold Medal for Life Time

Achievement in Teaching. I could have ended my life as a nobody, as a non-entity. It is Bhutan who made me believe in myself, instilled lots of values in me and got the best out of me.

Tell me, dear Reader, could anything be far more adventurous than my sojourn and stay in this magnanimous country of Bhutan? Today, I feel worried whenever an ant loses its life due to my carelessness. I am instantly taken back to the days when I would find either a colleague or a student picking up a fly and keeping it out of harm’s way. Along with the scores and dozens of values I inherited from Bhutan, her sense of Compassion, Kindness and Generosity has me completely bowled over.

And as long as I live, I will love this blessed country and be one of her greatest votaries and worshippers. God bless Bhutan, Their Majesties and the people.

The Reawakening, How Stories Get Made!

“No, I’m not going to have anything to do anymore with one more of those rigged contests.” Ron, going through his mail one evening and having come across an email about a flash fiction contest, said to himself contemptuously. 

Oh, reader dear, I beg your forgiveness. I didn’t introduce Ron to you yet. 

Ron was born in a reputed family in The City of Joy, Kolkata. When Life was proving to be too much for him to handle, he was offered a teaching job in the Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan. This tiny country at the foothills of the Himalayas, made him the kind of man he always wanted to be. He learned more about the ways of the world than at any other time! He learned about values such as Compassion, Kindness, Loyalty, Patriotism, Humanity and so on from his 3-decade-long association with the country he called his ‘Second Love’, his Ma being his first. 

Now, living in the 21st century world as you are, dear reader, you may be wondering about the credibility of the previous sentence. Let me show you how he picked up, let’s say, Compassion, from his colleagues and students.

Often, just before the start of the Morning Assembly, he would find a Nado Sir or Tandin Dorji Sir picking up a fly and keeping it out of harm’s way as a multitude of students scurried towards the Assembly Ground. He learned that there are people in BHUTAN, who not only cared for their fellow humans but also for all sentient beings. 

As he taught English and History, he found it difficult to digest that though the British had gone on to rule over the Indian subcontinent, they couldn’t conquer the tiny nation of Bhutan due to the fierce loyalty and patriotism of the Bhutanese! 

But Bhutan’s greatest contribution to Ron was that she made a writer of him. It was not like he learned about writing during his stay in The Blessed Land. He had always delighted in expressing his views and feelings. His additional role as The Staff Secretary at some schools he worked in initially, helped him hone in on his lifelong passion and skills. 

He was busy teaching high schoolers Language & Literature at CCS (Chhukha Central School) when one day he ran into a favourite student, Lhendup Dorji, in the market. Lhendup was pursuing a Course in Civil Engineering at a College in Durgapur, not very far from Kolkata at that time. 

Ron had helped redesign the school website with a brief intro of its location, year of establishment, teacher profile, and so on the previous day at the request of the incumbent Principal, Mr. Tashi Chonjur. 

“Sir, there is no one in Tshimalakha who doesn’t read your posts.” The handsome young Lhendup said amicably. 

“How come I don’t find more than a few ‘Likes’ on my posts then?” Surprised, Ron asked him.

 “That’s because we don’t know what to comment.” He replied with a shy smile. 

That brief encounter with Lhendup was a revelation to Ron. He was elated to find that there were people, at least in Bhutan, who enjoyed his writings. With that eye-opener, Ron took to writing vociferously. He started taking part in numerous international contests and online magazines in the last few years before his superannuation. 

But behind all this, Ron was guided by an irresistible desire of making a difference in the lives of the people around, of making this world of ours a paradise and if winning awards and prizes followed consequently, well and good, as they would make living easier. Though he was never a bright student, it didn’t take him long to realize that there was no way he could be the winner of any of these contests. Almost all of them seemed rigged! 

Thoroughly depleted, he withdrew from these contests gradually. Then, back home in Kolkata one evening in 2022, he read about some flash fiction Challenge. 

The contest was already in its second day when he read the article about it. There was the email address of the Editor given in the article, in case the hopeful participants still had any problem posting. 

Unfettered, Ron wrote to the Editor asking if he was eligible to participate. He was very surprised to receive her prompt reply. 

“You are most welcome to participate.” A line in the reply read. 

That was when his faith in fellow humans got restored. There are still good people in this world, he said to himself. But that was just the beginning. Soon fellow participants-cum-writers started encouraging him by commenting on his stories. Just imagine his shock, dear reader, when these people started commenting on the stories of a complete stranger like Ron! Their positive feedback, constant encouragement made him relearn the meaning of the term “Humanity”.

On the penultimate day of the Contest, after he had posted his story “Inflated Ego”, about a father-daughter strained relationship, there was no response from anyone for nearly 3 hours. 

He lay in bed, tossing and turning, desperately wanting some of his fellow writers to accept his story. 

Then when he was about to give up, an email from Disqus flashed on his mobile. He hastily clicked on the link like his very existence depended on it! 

It was Tara Knight, someone who had become a dear friend in the last 27 days of The Contest, commenting:

“Interesting story…” dispelling all his doubts about the fate of the story and his fate as well. Then the next afternoon, another contestant, W. Steve Wilson followed by Amy Hadley ( that incorrigible encourager – “Great job, Ron”), Lor Nelson (” terrific story”), Susan Hyland and a few others, kept up with what they had been doing for long – restoring and uplifting the sagging morale and self-confidence of a fella writer. But his cup got filled up to the brim when Sophia Grey wrote : “You write from your heart,” Ron, backed up by Shaida S, who, having reiterated Sophia’s sentiment, went on to ask him to keep writing without bothering too much about garnering fame or prizes. 

God! There is so much of Basic Human Goodness in this world!

He pondered. Is it what is known as The Milk of Human

Kindness? So much of Love, Hope and Fellow Feeling! What more can one expect from Life? 

That’s when a new Ron emerged from the shackles of the self-assuming, egoistic, selfish, individual he had been till then.

It was only then that he made a solemn pledge to himself. 

“From now on, I’ll go on supporting others in the way the aforementioned friends have done it to me. And I’ll have a contented smile on my face if, at the end of the day, I am able to light up and provide solace to a few of my fellow aspiring brethren, suffering from perpetual, self-inflicted miseries. It will be only then that I’ll consider my pledge fulfilled and rest in peace, eternally.” 

The end