Good Old Days in the Villages of Bhutan
‘Ajang Dojwang came around asking for favour.’ A fourteen year sister told his nine years old younger brother. Dojwang was a short form for the name Dorji Wangchuk. That was how villagers of Jurme used to shorten the name of a person. ‘If you are not so tired, you can go tomorrow to help them carry manure,’ she would say. A tired brother sulked for a moment. He felt pain in the back from carrying basketful of manure whole day. Then, he would think of all the good things he would get to do. He would get to flirt and teased older girl which would thrill him. He would get to hear the riddle and stories. He would get to meet friends. He would get to look for uncollected sweet potatoes in the red empty field. “What was Ngotsa (sort of favour) for,” he would ask his elder sister. ‘It is Ara Ngotsha,” she would say. In Ara Ngotsha, the owner of the field would measure the volume of wine to be drunk in frequent intervals. The worker had to finish all the wine given without qualms. If it wa