Distant memories of Assam

We are driving through Assam – precisely from Nganglam to Samdrup Jongkhar. As I zoom along the Highway 31, rice fields and cows, towns and rickshaws and overloaded lorries and bullock carts move away from me like a video in a fast-forward mode. As I gaze lazily towards the horizon and leave the world behind me, memories spanning over thirty years slowly play on my mind like an old film.

My earliest recollection is of me and my late mother travelling on the back of a Bhutan Government Transport Service (BGTS) truck to join my father who had found a job in Phuntsholing. The year was 1972 and I was six. And because we didn’t have the money to pay the fare, we were nearly off-loaded in the middle of Assam.

On another occasion and on a more positive note, I was with my father who was driving one of those black trucks and we got stuck in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly the whole village turned up and offered to repair, push and pull and jump-start our truck so that we could resume our journey again.

Several trips (on BGTS buses) and experiences and lunch stops later I found myself as a student in Deothang Polytechnic in the early eighties. Assam became the regular destination for our youthful adventures. I have lots of fond memories of those times. Many a times my friends and I would board the bus heading for Phuntshoing, get off at Rangia, hitch hike to Guwahati on lorries heading for the North-East and then after a day in Guwahati, we would head for Shillong where we would be the unwanted guests of Bhutanese students studying there. Once we even hopped on a train from Hashimara and had a long ride to Rangia. We felt we were the only permanent passengers. Others - men and animals, chickens and goats and loads of every types and sizes came in and dropped off every few kilometers. We had got on to a local train but the experience was memorable.

On an official note, often our college football team would go and play a game or two with local teams in Tamulpur or Kumarikata. No matter who won we always celebrated together. Being students and by default broke, I always cherished those times where we got free ladoos and jilebis and chae.

Then in my final year, I was elected as the mess captain and every Sunday I would accompany the hostel warden for vegetable shopping to Kumarikata. It used to be hot but it was fun. From the meagre stipend, I would permit myself a regular treat of few glasses of lassi from the same stall. Over time the lassi-maker got fond of me and if I passed by without having one because I had no money, he would even extend credit services.

Farewell Kheng Gongdu

Finally I am updating my blog. Friends and acquaintances often enquired why I had kept it frozen. Some speculated that I was not allowed in my current position. Others simply thought I had fallen into the consistent Bhutanese trap of being “inconsistent”. Actually the reason was simple – The past year has been crazy for me as far as writing was concerned and so the last thing I wanted to do was to “write” my blog. Unless, of course, I had a good reason. And I must say I have found one - here in the inner Kheng.

I am in Gongdu – an extraordinary place in every respect. For those of you who may not know where Gongdu is, it is the southern-most gewog under Monggar Dzongkhag. It is three days to Nganglam, three days to Pema Gatsel and three days to Monggar – basically in the middle of nowhere. Gongdu pampers you with breathtaking views, temperate climate and abundance of natural beauty. The people are exceedingly warm and speak a strange language that you are actually lost thinking if you were still in Bhutan – except that they wear gho and kira and enjoy listening to the jokes of Phurba Thinley and Gyem Dorji (who are with us on this trip).

But Gongdu is one of the poorest gewogs in Bhutan. People live in houses that, to me, either look like temporary dwellings or badly in need of some major repairs. Banana leaves are still used as roofing materials and bamboo extracts as walls and mats. Old people are weak and feeble and children are visibly malnourished. Although farm products are varied and every tropical fruits can grow here, the access to market is a major problem. Oranges that would fetch anything between 3 to 5 ngultrums a piece in Thimphu are left to rot on the trees. The people therefore live in poverty and hardship.

There is, however, a light at the end of the tunnel. The Gyalposhing – Nganglam highway, which is under construction, passes near the major settlements and the Kuri-Gongri hydropower project will be located on the edge of the gewog. These major development programs, if harnessed well, could bring unprecedented change and alleviate them from the vicious circle of poverty.

Still, these are projects that would take time. Hence the most immediate thing we could do is to support the local government officials and civil servants who are posted here and who are doing what they can to help our lesser compatriots. We could provide them free access to the Internet so that they can get more information, keep themselves connected with friends, family and colleagues at the headquarters and thereby carry out their assignments here with pride and without feeling left out. The fact that I could post this piece and update my FaceBook pictures with my B-Mobile data card means it is possible.

The journey through Monggar Kheng is tough and dangerous and passes through some of the most hostile environments. A sense of achievement grips my heart every time we reach the top of several mountain-passes after battling a baking Sun and a steep climb. But the journey to Kheng is more than reaching safely, enjoying the hospitality or pitying their conditions. It is a far greater journey – a journey within yourself and the realisation that we all have our humane side buried deep inside. It is a journey that makes you appreciate who you are, where you are and what you have and brings out the best part of all Bhutanese - compassion.

Farewell Kheng Gongdu!

What a wonderful world!

I am in the village of Zunglen (Drepung Gewog, Monggar). It is a typical Bhutanese village with a typical rural hospitality. The family is thrilled and excited that I have stepped into their house with few of my friends. We are ushered into their best room – the altar, and offered tea and tengma (beaten maize) with butter. The tea ceremony is followed by ara (local sake) with fried eggs. The whole family is suddenly at our disposal attending to us that we are comfortable and well-fed.

So much of warmth, so much of hospitality and so much of good will. This is something I have noticed in all my travels within our beautiful country. I am sure many of us (urban dwellers) would have experienced these 5-star treatments when we were on tour in rural Bhutan. The question is, do we in any way reciprocate this hospitality when these people come to urban areas?

The answer, shamelessly, is a resounding no!

But, of course, to be practical we may not be able to invite them to our homes unless they are familiar to us. We may not be able to offer drinks to each and every villager coming to Thimphu.

But still, there are things we could do. For example, we could help them by doing our job well. I mean many of them come to Thimphu to make their citizen’s identity card, passports, driving licences and various permits, to see government officials or to pay their loans or seek new one. We could help them by speeding public services for them.

We could help them by drafting application letters, filling up forms or giving them directions. We can drop them to the right office and refer them to the concerned official. We could seek information on their behalf and provide them guidance and help.

We could help them by making it easier for them to avail some basic services. For example, the banks could employ few unemployed youths whose sole job would be to fill up withdrawal and deposit forms. I have done this many times as I waited for my turn with the token number. Hospitals could do the same. People employed to help them see the doctors and get medicines from the pharmacy. Remember they can’t read or write. Our public offices are so customer unfriendly that even I get lost when I land in a new office. Unless you spot someone you know, there won’t be anyone giving you directions and neither would there be any information guide.

There are so many things we could do to reciprocate the warmth and hospitality we enjoy in rural areas. So the next time you see a villager who looks lost in a bank or in the hospital or in your office, ask him if he or she needs help. You will not only bring some relief, you will also feel happy to have done something worthwhile that day. If you can't do this, at least don't run over them with your car, or shout at them, as they stray aimlessly in the streets of Thimphu.

Well-done BBS!

BBS TV has finally got its own place after squeezing in with the radio for over ten years.  Well-done BBS! Especially the engineering guys who are always the unsung heroes of BBS.  And of course the new management for seeing this project through after so much of initial delays.

The event made me recollect another historic moment for BBS that occurred exactly 23 years back - on June 2, 1986.

It was on that day that BBS became “BBS” in place of Radio NYAB.  I am sure very few people in BBS would know this.  So just for the record, it was the day when BBS got its own 5KW RIZ transmitter commissioned.  Until then Radio NYAB was riding on the waves of the Wireless Department’s 400W BEL transmitter (a military piece made of pure iron that would give electric shock from all its parts when it was ON).

On June 2, 1986 we bid goodbye to Radio NYAB.  Dasho Karma Lethro, who was the deputy minister of communications & tourism inaugurated the station and was the first voice to go on-air from the new transmitter.  Late Dasho Rinzin Dorji was the director of information (that included BBS, Kuensel and DSCD), Mrs. Louise Dorji was the head of BBS and Mr. Sangay Tenzing (now DG of Roads) was the station engineer.  I was a junior engineer back then - one of the sixteen staff members.

So when you consider technician working with electric shock giving transmitters, RJs talking from that cold, stinking and haunted studio and reporters dishing out hand-written news bulletins, we must be proud of BBS with its new state-of-the-art master control room and satellite uplink facility.  I am told the production studios are air-conditioned.

Not bad, right?  We always think so low of ourselves.  It is about time we Bhutanese hold our chin high and boldly move to the future.

From Macau with the concept of "special economic zone"

The southern province of Guangdong used to be the backwaters of China since time unknown. However, beginning 1979, the Chinese government introduced some serious economic reforms that included allocation of “special economic zone (SEZ)” status to couple of cities and regions – Shenzhen was the first city to be declared one.

The net result – these region have recorded some of the fastest economic growth in China - and in the world. Shenzhen is today the fourth richest city in China and a shining example of the SEZ concept. As a value-addition, millions of people got diverted here. Otherwise they would be heading for Beijing or Shanghai.

One of the recurrent debates in our country is the rural-urban migration, or more precisely rural-Thimphu migration - balanced development being a natural by-product of the discussion. We keep complaining that everything is happening in Thimphu. But on the other hand, how do we reverse the trend - even if we really want to?

One strategy would be to introduce the concept of “special economic zones” here in Bhutan too. To start with, we could have SEZ declared for dead-end towns like Dagana, Pema Gatshel, Tashi Yangtsi and Lhuntshi followed by other areas that do not attract any investments. People wishing to set up business in these areas could be granted tax holidays, income tax exemptions, power subsidies, credit facilities etc.

One of the prime considerations should be the creation of employment, which is beginning to be a major problem in our country. Driving the local economy and employment thereby releasing some pressure from Thimphu, in every sense, is something what we could possibly achieve with this concept. Not to even mention the balanced development and equity that will follow suit.

Aren't we (Bhutanese) special?

My kids and I have watched the animation movie - Kungfu Panda over and over again.  Between my daughters and I, no one really knows who enjoy the film more.  We just love the movie.  

For me it is because of just one line from the film.  In fact the key message of the film. 

It's when Po, our hero (the giant panda), comes back to his father after failing to reveal the secret dragon scroll.  When his father, unwittingly, tells Po that there were no secrets to his “secret ingredient soup.”  One only has to believe that “it is special” to be special.

For many years now, I felt we Bhutanese are special.  We are different (not with any superiority complex attitude) but just the fact that we are a small, independent and beautiful country.  This really makes me feel very special.  And of course one very eminent lama, whom I met as a student many years back in Italy, told me that Bhutanese are a special breed of people.  

The question is, do we all feel we are special?  And do instill this feeling in our children?

Just thinking.....

Bhutan's Net Generation

After a long time, last Sunday I happened to witness an inter-school quiz competition at the Thimphu YDF Hall.  The contest was organised by the Ministry of Information to mark the World Telecom & Information Society Day 2009.

The children were magnificent.  They knew things I didn't even hear about.  Except that much of the information they knew came from TV and the Internet.  Good? Bad? I don't know.  Depends on how you look at it! 

What was definitely not okay was our children lacking knowledge on our own culture, people, history and places.  For example, no one could get the picture of the last day of Paro Tshechu, while they instantly recognised the komodo dragon.  Likewise they could easily identify the official anthem of Arsenal FC, hit the tune of a certain singer called Lady Gaga and even spread out the career of the first American Idol.  

Of course, I was also pleasantly surprised that they got most of the questions on ICT and computers right.  Which makes me conclude that our children watch a lot of TV and are IT-savvy. 

Then if that's the case, why don't we capitalise on these attributes?  Use the TV to educate or re-educate our children and guide them and channel their viewing time to something meaningful.  Highlight youth issues, dignity of labour, values, self-esteem and other soft skills that will prepare them to face the future and take the country firmly into their hands.  

Why don't we work seriously on creating an "information society" or the "knowledge-based industry" on the strength of our children's flair for new technologies?  If the performance at the quiz competition is any indication, then what I am proposing is definitely not a wishful thinking.

On The Other Side of Paro Valley

I don't remember how many times I have been to Paro.  But I just realised that my visits, until now, were always confined to the left bank.  I mean along the Kyichu Lhakhang - Drugyel Dzong side.  So it was a very pleasant experience to be "on the other side of the Paro Valley" over the weekend.  Courtesy of a wild picnic outing by the Bhutan Times people.

Unlike the left bank, much of the other side of the Paro Valley is still pristine and beautiful with traditional mud houses and structures.  Thanks to the un-tarred road that runs parallel to the river and to the highway of the left bank, much of the original charm and romance of Paro are therefore retained.

The left bank, on the other hand, has become clusters of ugly high-rise and cemented jungle that have, sort of, destroyed the beauty and sacredness of Paro.  They come with all sorts of names - schools, hospitals, hotels, resorts, general shop cum bar, etc.  The other side has instead small stone and wooden structures adorned with beautiful gardens that greet you as you drive along the 5-km graveled stretch.  At the end of this road, where the BT people had camped for their annual picnic, is a place I would recommend for anyone looking for a spot to pitch a tent for a weekend outing.

There is also a feeder road that takes off from Tshendona village for Sangachokor - 7Km reads the milestone.  In fact it is a nice 7-km drive up to the peak taking you to Sangachokor monastery from where, apart from the sacred temples, you have the most amazing and breath-taking view of the Paro Valley.  Don't miss this experience and do it while you are still strong, alive and kicking.  You don't need a 4WD to get there.  The road is not tarred but good.  I was in a Maruti.

It is also a good spot to survey (and possibly ponder over) the two sides of the Paro Valley - and over the so-called urbanisation of our country. 

(Below is a photograph of the alpine town in Italy.  As a student I often went there because it attracted me.  Will our towns have the same appeal in future?  Maybe our town planners should take a cue from these places.)

Looking Beyond the Awards

So we have successfully organised the first annual media awards. 

Awards and recognitions such as these will hopefully provide the much-needed professionalism and dignity in the Bhutanese media.  Never mind the minor controversy this time.  In any contest anywhere that’s there.  In Bhutan, I have learnt, it is always there!  Because somehow we Bhutanese never learn to lose.  I guess it is the direct result of lack of sports and other competitive activities in our schools.  The Media Award was relatively less controversial. 

I hate controversies.  For fear of being dragged into one, I withdrew my film “Nazhoen Chharo” from the last film festival.  I was not scared of losing.  I was scared of engaging in petty quarrels and bad mouth.  So, to the disappointments of many of my fellow filmmakers I enjoyed the evening as a guest.  I was even asked to give away a prize (to the best newcomer female!).  That was lot more fun!

The wisdom behind awards in artistic fields, such as films and journalism, is of course a much-debated subject everywhere.  One theory, which I partially subscribe to, is that you can’t judge one film from the other.  Both are masterpieces in their own rights. And so are literary and journalistic works.  The subjects are different, the contexts are different and the intentions and intensities are different.  In short, there are too many subjective variables to enable objective judgements.  

However what I truly believe is that events such as the Bhutanese films and the media awards are more "a collective recognition of the profession rather than just the individuals".  In a society that looks down on every other profession other than government jobs, the fact that we have begun to recognise these industries is a step forward.  The institution of the Annual Media Award was therefore the biggest winner!  

There is no doubt that awards and recognitions can boost your motivations and drive - especially among young journalists.  So, while I celebrated the Bhutanese journalism and our film industry at the YDF Hall, together with all others, I also applauded and personally congratulated all the winners.  I had five entries to this first media awards and managed to secure one nomination,  which was not announced - for technical glitches, I was explained much later.  I believe them because many a times I have been on the receiving end as the organiser of such events.  Technical problems are routine in events of such magnitude. One only has to learn not to make the same mistake twice and never to make such mistakes intentionally.  

I have attended many films festivals and media awards around the globe.  Many a times I was a participant, at times I was a judge and few other times I was also the winner.  But the biggest win was just to be out there, representing my country, rubbing shoulders with the best in the profession and to befriend other contestants with whom you exchanged ideas, skills and techniques.  

One of my favourite memories was the one in Seoul where, after the award ceremony and the party, we were all cramped in the room of the grand prix winner.  We bullied him into giving us an insight into how, why and what went behind making such a masterpiece.  The workshop started at midnight and ended at five in the morning.  After learning a lot from the winner, we all went back to our rooms, packed our bags and shot straight for the airport.  Life moves on!

That’s what we should all be doing here.  Learning to lose and learning from the winners and above all, learning from each other.  

Only then we progress as professionals.