To all the teachers of Bhutan.....

May 2^nd marks the birth anniversary of our third king Jigme Dorji Wangchuck who insightfully played indispensable role in shaping Bhutan through modern education. And for all his worthiness and unmatched timeless deeds, the day is celebrated as TEACHER’S DAY in Bhutan. To ‘The architect of modern Bhutan’, we owe you a boundless gratitude.

On this special day, I wish all our teachers a happy teacher’s day.

It’s no denying that a teacher is an artist who inspires creativity, a constant warrior relentless in pursuit of a better world and a steadfast surrogate parents committed to the lives of countless souls.

I am well aware of sacrifices and compromises every teacher make just to keep going the lamp of learning in every child. It has been my three enriching years into the world of teaching coupled with bitter sweet emotional state. And the most beautiful feeling I realize today is the learning I pursued in every moment of my waking hours to keep my learners inspired. At the end, it was comforting to see my hard work pay in a form of success and bettered human beings.

My humble gratitude also goes out to teachers dotted far across the wilderness who are committing day in and day out to bring the best in our children’s lives keeping every personal chores apart. I know how grueling it is to sit for another two or three hours and prepare for the next day when you are already beaten by the day’s activities. I admit to the fact that teaching is not a cup of tea as others put it.

Moreover, it is not just students but the entire society that benefits out of your hard work. So dear teachers let us not leave the task unfulfilled. Together we will push and add wings in the lives of students.

Even as I write this little note, I can already feel the air of celebrations and a song that almost all the schools in Bhutan will dance to as an ice breaker today. I can picture the adages and catchy literary works dancing on the lips of some students ready to pounce the mic, let burst and garner rounds of applauds from fellow mates. Some would even be up by this wee hours thronged with excitements.

How I wish I was the part of rare jubilations.

I take this time out to remind all our students of their purpose in school. Work hard and be curious because even a falling apple has the power to enlighten the world. Praise not your teachers with exorbitant gifts on this day but with punctuality and readiness to imbibe from them anytime.

As I reluctantly put end here, let me leave some lines for our industrious teachers:

No matter how digitalized the world become, the joy of learning from a teacher can never be beaten by anything.

Let us consume ourselves to light them. Let us put in efforts to inspire them. But Let us not forget to celebrate success together even its decades later.

Best regards

Pelden Nima

Graduate school of bioagricultural science

Nagoya university, Japan.

Truncated history of Dobji Dzong

I never grew up listening to the myths and ancient histories relating my village because my parents were always on move. And, as I have not spent good deal of time with natives there, little do I know about the place and often feels humiliated for lacking nitty-gritty information regarding my own birth place. More so, I have never heard of my father making sufficient mentions of histories that my village is copious in. So, I always felt short of snippets concerning my little hamlet whenever someone intriguing posed me queries.

However, my father has a disposition to re-count tales whenever someone new enters as/into our family member. The last time I heard of him was when my brother brought in his wife.

He would share several pleasing chronicles of his own life and move us to tears when he narrate on privations he suffered as a tender boy. Of the many, I will be particularly thrilled by the stories that revolved around Dobji Dzong and feel wondered over the controversies that transmitted from our ancestors.

Few years’ back I ran into a close descendant of Dobji Penlop swapping several ancient conversations involving our village. It was considerate of him to shed detail lights on the history of the Dzong. But unfortunately my recording gear ran out of storing space and I could only take the abridged narrations.

It is no exaggeration that Dobji dzong was once a deadly dungeon for wrongdoers sometimes in the late 1970s. People of the time dreaded the fortress because of the brutality the convicts suffered inside the confinement. It sent a chill down the spine even at the mention of its name and the lethal criminals were compelled to serve their sentence term inside the castle. Once inside only god knew what happened.

Oral history has it that ever since it was put into use as solitary confinement, nothing set ahead well in that entire stretch of region. There was ill-timed downpour seizing all kinds of crops and fruits. Later it was dismissed and converted into seats of learning for monks. Thenceforth it was believed to have bettered the situation. Today it caters to some fifty monks as a Buddhist school.

What many are informed of the dzong is the fact that it was built by Lama Ngawang Chogyal in 1531 following a spring originating below the throne of a great saint Jetsun Milarepa in Tibet. But in my conversations with the close relative of Dobji Penlop, it was actually Jetsun Milarepa who dictated to build the dzong.

Legends say that Milarepa halted for a night there. Next day he was supposed to proceed to a place named Tsamda Goenpa. When people from Tsamda region beseeched him to move the following morning, lama flatly rejected and, in cross legged position, insisted on remaining there. When finally the plea failed to serve its purpose, they forcibly tried to pull out lama and vexed needlessly. But firm he stood thrusting his right leg into the earth and kept their collective forces away never moving an inch. Later on, lama prophesied to construct the dzong at the current location and the name came to be known as “Drobdrek” which in English translates to “resist”.

Quite afterwards Lama told the locals at Tsamda to carve an effigy as his substitute and fixed it in the monastery.

The other marvel is the Lama’s natural spring which is located precariously at the base of the hill on which the fortress is perched. Widely known and esteemed as the elixir, it has drawn a lot from around the country and never did it shake people’s faith in the healing power of the tiny rivulets. Subsequently, to make it accessible to wide range of audiences it was aired up on BBS. Today, around five cozy wooden tubs are installed to have laid back hot stone bath.

And to help the Dzong with monetary growth, a charge of Nu. 500 is levied per day inclusive of room fees, fire woods and stone gathering.

A fortress once operated as solitary confinement is now fascinating people from all walks of life. It has caught the attention, especially of old and the ailed.  

Historians believe Dobji to be the first model Dzong.

Landscape photography

Alike to the sundown and sunup, we all have one thing in common:

We all have one beginning- birth

And we all have one end- death

Reading companions

I don’t frequent Youth Centre much. As it is generally students that throng the center, I feel my presence would, needlessly, meddle their freedom and leave them malcontent. So, I shun being regular especially during school off hours.

But seldom I do and see if I can be of any help to the visitors.

It was around last week that I ran into three little girls whose unfeigned love for the books had me adore their bibliophile habit. One was second grader and the other two third. Only after several exchange of words did I discern the three were almost daily visitors to the center. Curious I felt and prudently maneuvered to spark up a discussion while strictly keeping the friendly composure.

Source- google

Soon realizing that they were dodging the interrogations, I stopped bothering any further. But to have them perpetuate the conversation, I sweet mouthed them and seemingly the thought of leaving me unattended, because I am a teacher, didn’t even orbit somewhere near their imagination. Thereafter, no sooner had I established good acquaintance by the dint of my ingenuity than they relished my noble intention. We became good friends.

All the three had one thing in common.

They have a strong penchant for Dzongkha books. All the three told they read mainly to acquire knowledge and keep themselves informed. Yes, their read was flawless, commendable and at par with many students two or three levels superior to them. But when asked on their liking towards English, they shied away a little and candidly whispered, “It is quite hard”. To check their competency, with my slapdash approach, I bumped into books of their standard and forcibly made them read aloud. The three of them looked nervous and fell behind hugely as compared to their Dzongkha counterpart.

Soon afterwards, knowing their plight in English, I made an attempt to kindle their interest. They appeared enthusiastic and flanked me from either sides to see what my influence have to offer them. Together we did chorus reading for almost an hour and took to solo reading quite some time later. It was fulfilling to see them at my disposal and unanimously agree with the idea of reading together.

They retreated with an assignment to commit few hours of the day to read English and display considerable progress. While I could not help myself wait for the next round of meet, I firmly kept my fingers crossed for their endeavor and watched them pull away homewards with smiles crossing their lovely lips.  

Little did I know that I will walk into curious mind like theirs and feel please myself? 

It was a lesson which came unannounced because of our common interest- a lesson where no classroom was required, the subject was reading and the outcome, inspiration.