The Ever So Charismatic Mr. Nindu:

The Ever So Charismatic Mr. Nindu:

[Recently I’s given to understand by a friend of mine that all my stories published in the WAB are women-centered and all of them have women portrayed in a grim light. To tell you the truth, I thought I had all of them depicted with nobility being the hallmark of their characters! Anyway, this is the first time when I have tried to write a story without any woman in it. What is more, this is the first time when I have tried to write a comic story.]

I think I can call Mr. Nindu a friend. When I met him for the first time, he was in his forties. He was sent up to Wangdichholing PS due to the Southern Problem of the early 1990s. He was of medium build, dark-complexioned, with a mop of curly hairs. When he smiled, you straight away fell for him. We became fast friends despite our age difference. I was only 27 at that time. He was 48.

I liked him more when one night he sent me a chit asking me to get a couple of Eagle beers to go along with the chicken-dinner party he was throwing at his place. Though I didn’t like his commanding tone, I decided to accept the invitation anyway. Other than the student, who helped him steal the cock from a house in the neighbouring village, the table was set for only the two of us. 

But my love for him suffered a huge blow when the next day Ugyen Namdup, a favourite student of mine, a student of class-V showed me his notebook asking me why I had not corrected the mistakes that Nindu Sir did. I snatched the NB out of his hand and was surprised to see how the only mistake I had overlooked was underlined by Mr. Nindu. Young, I couldn’t control myself and acted a bit rash in remarking in front of Ugyen: “If he goes on correcting some mistake like the way he has, I won’t mind circling all the mistakes that he overlooks while correcting his students’ notebooks.”

But what I really found unbearable in Mr. Nindu was his habit of taking advantage of whatever opportunities came his way. The moment he came to know of someone having done something creditable somewhere in the country, it had to be in a distant place, mind you; he’d somehow try to relate that person to him. If the national topper in the ISC was from YHSS, Mr. Nindu would invariably claim to have taught him in the formative years of his life. Every important personality in Bhutan was either his former student or a student’s close relative. But what really upset me a great deal was the way he went about making use of a group photograph that was taken with HM during his visit to our school!

I was a novice and was standing in the front row with my head bent low. Mr. Nindu, in a black suit and red tie, had made sure that he was standing next to HM. I realized only afterwards that he had the photograph developed in such a way as if it was a photo of HM and Mr. Nindu standing neck to neck!

I came to understand Mr. Nindu better when a few years later, the Asst. Headmaster of my school started talking highly about Mr. Nindu – the fact that Mr. Nindu was known to the HM was the last straw. Asst. Headmaster told me that he had personally seen the photograph of HM standing shoulder to shoulder with Mr. Nindu. Something rang a bell but I tried my best to keep mum and not be jealous of Mr. Nindu.

Things came to a pass when Mr. Nindu was appointed, a few months later as the Headmaster of Chumey PSS. This happened at a time when the Policy of Nationalization had come into effect. All the Indian Headmasters of the time, were replaced by Bhutanese nationals. The height of it all was when the Education Minister dropped in the Headmaster, Mr. Nindu’s quarters at Chumey on his way to inaugurating a new high school in

Trashigang a few months later. I had a feeling that all this was happening due to Mr. Nindu’s good karma and his shrewdness in making the best use of the photograph and the opportunities.

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We all were there during the Evaluation Camp at PHSS in 1996. One evening Mr. Nindu, Lop. Ngawang and I were watching an important program on TV featuring a football match at Changlimithang Stadium in the capital. It was close to 7.30 p.m. and we were there for our dinner at Euden’s Canteen just below the staff quarters.

A Bhutanese youth called Kinley Tenzin was brilliant that day against a top club from Calcutta called Mohon Bagan. No sooner had the match ended on a 1 all draw due mainly to the last minute gem of a header by Kinley Tenzin off a free kick than Mr. Nindu, in his characteristic style, put the beer glass down, beamed at me before remarking:

“This Kinley, you know, was hopeless during his school days here. Many had given up on him. But I’d to remind them about his football skills and prowess. Now look at where he’s landed! A teacher, after all, has to be a great scout. Unfortunately, a handful of us are good at scouting the real talent of our students.

Lop. Ngawang, who had been sitting quietly all this while in a corner, got up and went to the washroom near the entrance. He came out a few minutes later, having washed his hand. Mr. Nindu was still continuing with his glorification of self rather than the extremely talented footballer. Lop. Ngawang couldn’t control himself anymore and directed his remark at Mr. Nindu, looking in my direction though :

“It’s good that you seem to know so much about Kinley Tenzin. But let me tell you this, Sir, that the boy of our discussion, happens to be my son. And as far as I know him, he’s been a brilliant student all through. He’s adjudged The Best Student of PHSS for his all-round performance the year before last …And by the way, when did you work at PHSS?” 

I’ll never forget the look of surprise, shock and shame on Mr. Nindu’s face till the dying moments of my life!

The last I heard of Mr. Nindu was that he walks with a limp in his left leg now. The people in his last school got so fed up with his bluffing habit that one night while he was cooling off in his quarter, some masked people made him open the door and gave him the thrashing of his life. I can’t guarantee the genuineness of the story though.

The End

(I posted this story on the WAB ( the Writer’s Association of

Bhutan) site on 9th December, 2017.)