Remembering own Roots

I was born and brought up in a village called Gamung.

Most of you may not know the place but its a land that loosely connotes “The land of happiness.”

My home, an institution of life,hope and dream.

Further the land is surrounded by maize field and houses are sparingly dotted on the slop.  Few years back I could see the hamlet was beautifully adorned with ripening oranges and blossoming scarlet in abundance, if you happen to take a look from Shali or Gonpung. (Neighboring village)

Now sadly, the skeletons of trees only can be seen as of the present day resulted in shattering the dreams of the farmers sending their children to school. Before, by selling tons of oranges farmers were once rich; they sent all children to school.  Now they have resorted to other means.

My days in a village were interesting, as a small boy I found the everyday joy from playing with my age mates.

 At the age of six, I could go forest to assist my grandfather who had been in a month long herding the cattle. I remember myself being talkative like radio in wrong tune but now I prefer silencing like the beef and pork in corner kitchen, “I feel the change”!

Every afternoon, I would accompany him to the forest very thick forest. Time and then I was fallen in love with those cattle and I refused joining school because I learn the rhyming: Langtsho, Langjan, Shawtsho and Serjan, before I start the years of educating my raw mind.

Vividly, I recount being kicked off like a balloon by Serjan. (Cattle name) The scars tell my story of being a cowboy once upon. I cried when my Jatsim serjan was sold to clear off the long added debts in a family. Followed, by a horse to exchange a penny, animals were the backbone in my family. They have served us in multiple ways without failing.

Reaching eight I joined school. I don’t remember what exactly changed my mind to go school before I was reluctant enough to repel parent’s compulsions.  One reason for going to school could be inspired from Dawa whenever he took the delicious packed lunch it stole my heart to reach school.

Later I regretted for being too ignorant to join the class despite the repeated encouragement from family. Many of my age mates kept their eyes to me and I couldn’t keep going with them to school. After reading in class two I changed my school to Shumar lss.

 Regarding my family, I have parents and grandparents. Both remained as living force in my family economy.

My parents were put into separation in the meantime of marrying and later both remarried and settled in newly found homes. The responsibility for taking care of the children was fallen to again grandparents.

  

As a mother she has endeavored all the hardships and pains in upbringing siblings, marriage and societal back firings. Neither she was down nor did she lose the promises of her children. She walked an extra miles like ancient soldiers in a battle field facing more enemies and left good prints of legacy in history. OfCouse, grandparents never failed to give their positive reinforcement to her in those darkening period of life.

Regardless of the new avenue challenges and heartbreaking loopholes, her children didn’t implore the divorce as token to indulge in web of bad company or into the menace of drugs to minus the family stature. Rather, sailing through the rough setting they discovered the complete path of freedom unlocking the treasure of life. All mastered the art of living by being the responsible children to the parents.

 Having accepted the stages of childhood, I got educations. I never starved to death nor did poverty steal my youthful faces because of the circling love and care among the family members, relatives and society.

As I turn away from the land of Gamung, I still remember my enriching and promising days at Sangthabu, Gelongbrak,Dungjor and Sangshing, were the garden of childhood flowering took the root.  Nongar is still in my heart because my grandmother lived there with dancing heart.

Through-out my life, I will cherish the love and kindness of my grandfather and mother. My grandma is a modest woman who is always filled with loving kindness ready to radiate among the children.

My grandfather stood throughout his life with own legacy. He is an honest man on earth. His everyday conduct of living is based on the policy of clear-cut honesty. And it paid him a lot in running away from the bank of bureaucratic tyranny.

He had the privilege of serving people as Gup. He monitored the high way road construction between Pemagatshel to Samdrup Jongkhar.  Now he sits near warm kitchen over a cup of Ara, ruminating over the long accumulated reminiscences.

Recently, he quitted smoking and it was good news among the families. Seldom calling to Grandparents to ask about their health, grandpa never answered me once in call, but I am happy they are still alive to call my great grandparent.

In hard times, I miss their kindness in tones!

My life stood on the pulses of their love and care;Never old in my heart.

Finally, I have found a new place called Gonpasingma, historically founder was local priest Yaalo and Kaalo from Zobel village. Sometime life here is YAAlO, as-well as KAALO.I am happy here by any choices.

However, thinking little further, all those events are subject of metamorphosis what’s there to be sad and happy.

From lock and key diary.