Here is a Story of my Mom and Dad

In the summer of 2008

 By Profession, I am a carpenter.  My world into carpentry all started when I debuted my skills as carpenter with construction of a small monastery on the cliff of Sumthrang in Ura for a lama cum lopen known more as Chhoeje in our locality.

With this, I have built numerous houses both in my locality and afar. Some of my finest craftsmanship is today visible in the beauty of Tango monastery in Thimphu and magnificent and towering Dzong in Punakha  to which I made my contribution under the divine decree I received from the fourth dragon King of Bhutan. In similar fashion, my wife was a traditional handloom weaver. She used to weave many beautiful Jachen Kisho thara  and woolen yathra for our Naktsang Ama then.  Ironically, we have no certificates what so ever to prove our profession here.

At our local level, we both originated form a well off family. Both our parents had everything necessary that would sustain livelihood of the family, -Starting from herd of cattle in the low lands to yak in the alpine, added by  group of pony and flock of sheep at the door step.  That was the definition of rich then, -so called the chukpo in local terminology.

Since we are both from the same village, there was nothing strange when we got married in our prime twenties. To say, I was the best looking man in my village, it would rather sound blowing my own triumphant, but I sincerely would like to assert here that my wife was the definition of damsel during our time.

 Few years into our gleeful marriage we were blessed with a good looking son. Sadly he  didn’t make to his adulthood. His demise was painful beyond our words.  However, we were again blessed to have a beautiful daughter followed by two sons. This obviously called for a concern from my late mother-in-law with whom we shared the house, because too many mouths to feed meant severe economic pressure on the constant family livelihood.  

Somehow, she wanted us to live separately. Her decision, by any means was subtle. When that thing got combined with other nitty-gritty family feuds, our small family had no option other than to take a shelter in a shade used for cattle. All we had was a small copper pot and a load of locally stitched blankets and mattress.  That was it, we received little support whatsoever form both our parents.

The days turned to weeks and weeks into months.  The years passed and passed swiftly.  The otherwise beautiful and idyllic valley was nothing but a mere barren plateau for us. So to make our life worth living and more so to make use of my young-fatherly strength, we migrated to lower lands of Kurtoe. There, we worked tirelessly on Government land. We planted maize and chilli. To make ends meet, we even resorted to easy picking like raising piglets for pork!

It was not only me and my family, who were at rough sea. There were other events unfurling as well. My younger sister was denied her access to our house when she decided to marry a man against our late parents will. There were also rumors that she moved to different place altogether.

Until my late younger brother took over, I used to be the strongest man in my village. That strength came in handy for me. A father of my status required it all. Those were the days when I, first experimented my carpentry instincts.  I became carpenter out of necessity and by default!

Isolated and cutoff, those were the days of great depression for my family. The competition was fierce and those in possession of land fairly progressed and prospered. We prospered and progressed as well, but in terms of having children! If progress was to be measured in terms of having children, then we surely beat all our competitors. In gap of eleven years, my wife again gave birth to four loveliest and cutest daughters.  That took my family to nine including two of us.

We then decided to move back to our native place on permanent basis. Even though we survived hand to mouth, we were also able to save in terms of grains, because my carpentry skills and my wife’s weaving skills came in handy. Few years later we not only decided to build a house but also started domesticating few yaks, a pair of pony and a flock of sheep.

With all those hard works and perseverance, we finally managed to pull ourselves into the flow of life as any other locals.  By then two of our elder sons were already admitted to school which was closely followed by two daughters.  We had little to feed but surely had lots and lots of amusements. My children would come home every Saturday evening and display every lessons they learnt, -starting form nursery rhymes to folk songs, from national anthem to march-past song and from Che-Nye-Sum to One-Two-Three. They learnt it all  by heart !

With few kids into the school and few at home, still crawling and toddling, my wife again gave birth to a healthy son when I was in full swing with the construction of our much awaited and anticipated house. My little son grew up like the way our house took shape, stone by stone and wood by wood.

Four years later, my wife again gave birth to a daughter.  She became our ninth children. The tenth and the final one soon followed after a gap of four equal years. The mere numbers created plethora of predicament in varying magnitudes. The food ran scarce and so did the cloths. Amazingly, to the envy of our local leader, my iron like kids looked well feed and well clothed.

Predicament kept mounting, day by day and the credit grain I availed from a rich man in Kurtoe couldn’t even sustain my large family. I even had to discontinue sending few of my children, who had good record academically, to school. When pillar and post ran short, I had no option other than to run to Thimphu to beg for kidu from the king himself. He graciously consented to my plea and I was given a land on which I could cultivate and feed my growing and voracious kids.  

That was also the time I first met my youngest brother who recently became dasho along with few other dashos like him from our place. I came back home with all the good  second hand cloths I have collected from my relatives and  with the empty but but of high utility oil cans I have gathered from the bins of the city. For my youngest son I managed to buy a new Pangtse gho as I have promised.

Our lives have improved as a result of Kidu form the king and I made up my mind never to keep my kids out of school. When my three youngest children started schooling, life became relatively easier than it was decade ago. Just like their brothers and sisters, three of them also did well in school too.

Today all my ten children have grown up and have a family of their own.  We could educate only five of them and all are doing fine. Remaining five, today are following our footsteps but in much better circumstances. Some of them have become grandfather and grandmother themselves!

Some are religious and some spirituous. Some have a tongue as sharp as serpent while some are down-to earth human. Some treated us with utmost respect and dignity where as some bothered least. They are our kids by heart and by soul. Irrespective of all their treatment towards us, we love them all equally form the bottom of our heart, because we believe at one point or the other, we have sacrificed our lives just for them.

Recently, I am being diagnosed with high blood pressure and as a result of which half of my body lost sense including my mouth. I can speak no more but understand and hear them all. As per indigenous doctors, they say, it’s because of my over exposure to the burning flames of Meme Ragula, also known as Zaa in Bhutanese context.

To enlighten me, all who come to see me say that it’s a curable ailment and that I should remain emotionally stable, pray to Guru Rimpoche and take blessings from as many rimpoche as possible. It’s my hope against hope that that it works, because I don’t want to die dumb. I have many prayers to say for my lovely children, my grand children and for my great grand children, before I bid farewell to this beautiful world.