Kuzuzangpola!!!

Welcome to my blog, a place where I write about everyday things, common incidents, friends, family and little anecdotes that make up what we call Life...

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Mad Morning Rush

This might ring true for the numerous parents dashing to drop their children to school, on time, especially to the working multi-tasking super moms. And especially, especially to working mothers with husbands who have late night jobs, or who have been struck with the “late night owl” disease, which leave them dysfunctional and bleary eyed at any time before 10 a.m. in the morning.
Anyway, before I digress, back to the mad rush which begins at 6 a.m. when my eyelids open like clockwork. Oh! If only I could snuggle deeper into the warm blankets and continue dreaming that dream..but the working mother has to immediately throw back the covers and land on her feet, lest she succumbs to slumberous temptations.
After all the chopping, stirring, boiling and finally packing lunch boxes, I face the next major challenge of the day – waking up two sleepy heads. I look at their faces - heads together, eyes shut, mouths slightly open – beautiful, wish I could let them sleep a bit longer.. But its time to get up and someone’s got to be the villain.
I start by drawing the curtains and turning down the blankets.  I call out their names softly, “Yonten, Ugyen Thinley..time to get up..”.
No response. They turn on their stomachs and go right back to sleep.
My volume ups and threats are issued, following which they get up slowly and drag their feet to the bathroom. The same pattern of cajoling and threatening and bargaining continue all through the act of washing up, dressing up and eating breakfast, until we are out of the door. Now the fun really starts.
Noise inside a car is inversely proportionate to the number of children in the car (increase is more significant in the case of the male child), which in turn is proportional to the driver’s sanity (ability to concentrate, see and hear). Now, in my case I chauffer four boys - two mine, two my sisters - and it doesn’t help that they are all in different schools.
The racket begins as soon as the car starts. Some body wants to sit by the window, somebody’s toe has been stamped, somebody has left his lunch basket behind..and somebody has to reach school within the next five minutes!!! Ignoring all the noise, and tuning into my inner peaceful self (along with few deep breaths) I start zooming.
We are on the highway and halt opposite Dr. Tobgyal School, where I need to deliver the two younger ones. With lightening speed I undo my seatbelt, get out of the driver’s seat, usher them out of the back seat and make the life-threatening journey of crossing the Thimphu-Babesa highway.  And every morning I make that journey, I am amazed at the speed our Bhutanese drivers can drive and they make no exceptions to their speed limit even while driving past the school, even when they see little children crossing the road and specially not when they see mothers (read females) accompanying the children.
Anyway, making a safe passage back to the car I quickly glance at my watch and at the faces of the two remaining boys – they have already started arguing about who should be reached first. Again, muttering my secret mantra, I hit the accelerator, going as fast as the little car can go.
Driving everyday along the highway, I have noticed a few unspoken highway rules – size matters, might is always right, two lanes really don’t exist as all vehicles drive right along the middle, it is a shame to give way, especially to a smaller vehicle (and certainly not if it is a female driver!!) and beware of BT and BG driving (one has sights only for potential customers and the other breaks for none).
Today, I am behind a truck. I am sure the driver can see me tailgating in his side view mirror. I am desperate to move ahead, so desperate I am about to honk loudly, when he reluctantly gives way. I zoom smoothly till the Lungten Zampa  bridge and then I am suddenly in a jam going up to the BOD. It’s a line of vehicles and a stream of school children.
Constant breaking and deft maneuvering of the steering wheel brings us to the Yangchenphug school parking. Every time I drop my nephew here I remember my old days. Days when almost everyone walked to school and there was no such thing as a traffic jam.
Back to driving – three down, one to go. For this one I need to go back into the traffic beside the BOD, cut across and climb up serpentine road towards the Memorial Chorten. We go around the chorten, have to slow down below Etho-Metho private school and then the last zoom up to Changangkha Primary school.
 It’s exactly 8:30 a.m., thirty minutes since batwoman started the batmobile. Not bad, not bad at all.