Dorji Tenzin: Random Thoughts like Cries of a Clown

This is my fourth month in the BBS. By standard of my illiterate villagers, I am junior Dasho because I have completed degree in October 2010. For them any education standard beyond class ten is considered a sure way to much desired title of Dasho. Even my family will be planning to visit Thimphu soon to enjoy the hustle and bustle of town. Last month, an elderly villager asked me how much I earned in a month. I told him that I earned little less than one and half Thri (Ten Thousand). He exclaimed, ‘that is a lot of money. With that money you can buy house in Thimphu.’ I nearly puked hearing the word. Yet I patiently listened to his tales of how he travelled to Godama (present day) Assam. He told that with three Indian rupees, they used to get a big pot (probably 30 litres) and edibles that a man could carry. I wanted to remind him about changed times and dimensions but I didn’t. I wanted to give that guy something as a gift from junior dasho (that is me if you doubt). Looking at my

Sonam Dema, a 24 years old woman thought herself to be different. She didn’t like what other girls of her age liked since the time she could remember. Other girls loved to wear short skirt, keep long hair and giggled whenever they saw handsome Romeos of the street. Sonam loved to wear faded loose jeans, spot spiky hairstyle and liked to be around the male company. In her late teen, she found out that she was not attracted to the men sexually. Weird enough, she found out she was falling for another high school teenager. Today, she works with judiciary as a bench clerk. She is living together with Selden. Sonam’s parents think they are just friends. What irritates Sonam most is when her illiterate parents ask her when she is going to get a husband. Call it impact of education or modernization, the relation with same sex is on rise in Bhutan. In some countries, the same sex marriage is legal whereas in some it is considered illegal and abnormal. In Muslim countries, it

Walking Through The Youthful Memory Lane I sometimes wish that memories are written in water. Unfortunately, the most beautiful and painful memories are sculptured in igneous rock. Walking through the memory lane, the painful memory wrought laughter and happy memories wrought tears. Youthful experience embedded in our conscious defines who we are at the present. Human being is nothing more than experience of our past since our birth. My childhood days and youthful experience are one of the most colorful journeys. The unfortunate birth as a blotch to society and bringing up as a child of small God and the subsequent transition to youth in the glare of society defines what I am today.   It dictates my attitude, my take on society and behavior I wear today. I have never known I have a father. The young men and children at my age used to tease me where my father was, whether my father died before dawn. I knew I was different child but I didn’t know how. Only later in class one,