The Luxury of Imagination (and dreams)

One day, while driving down to our home in Debsi, Babesa, I asked my elder son, then eight years old, how he liked our neighbour's paddy fields. We stopped our descent downhill and gazed at the fields. It was nearly harvest season and the stalks were rippling gold.

"Looks like a giraffe's neck", he said nonchalantly.

I could'nt for my life, fathom a giraffe, let alone its neck, any which way I looked. But I remained quiet and rejoiced in his imagination, for I had lost that world somewhere along the way.

The world of Achu Daka, of fairies and trolls, a place where a tiny seed could grow overnight and rise all the way above the clouds, a magical tree that leads to far away places and where everone lives happily ever after.

Come back to the real world, people say. A world wrought with poverty, sadness, misery, disasters...Yes, we need to tackle real problems in the real world, but I am sure a bit of imagination, a sprinkle of fairy dust or the power of three heart felt wishes, would not hurt.

Childhood, in all its innocence and sense of belief is a marvelous thing. Children and their sense of adventure is truly amazing -  my son wants to be a magician first, maybe a musician and if that does not happen, a chef. I told him impatiently that he would be "second rate cook who know how to strum a tune or two on the guitar with a few sleazy magic tricks up his sleeve". But he is undaunted, lately he wants to be a "secret agent".

Maybe, we parents can learn a few things like optimism and creativity from them.

Customer Service and Queues

I took the morning off today to renew my car’s blue book (now a little white card). It wasn’t a particularly hot day but I was already a bit flustered knowing I would be late for work – but the counters remain open only from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. sharp – so it had to be office hours.

There was already a queue up to the designated counter. Neat. I don’t mind standing in queues however long,  but the moment I encounter, what I call, “line butters” (since they ignore "lines" and “butt” right ahead) I see red - my throat clears automatically, my lips move and I start “Excuse me..blah blah ..can’t you see the line..@#$%!!!!@#$!!!” . In my younger days I would not mind entering into a physical combat over my pet peeve, but over the years, I have sobered down to muttering loudly …

Anyway, no line butters in sight yet, so I stand in queue patiently. At last, its my turn at the counter, but the guy behind the glass pane looks at the card and says impatiently, “You need to first do your fitness in the parking outside.”

Okay. I am outside and I can see many others waiting, trying to spot the inspector. “Is he wearing a uniform?” “Is he tall/short or thin/round?” “Where is he?”. We spot him after a good 10-15 minutes and no, he hasn’t been playing truant, as the lone inspector today he had to go down to front of the bus ticket booking parking to inspect a truck.

Inspection done and I am back in queue. This time its a short one. But before I reach my turn I realize I had forgotten to bring along the renewal fees (all of Nu. 2,000!!!). Embarrassed, I smile at my fellow queuees and rush out to find the nearest ATM.

I am back in line after enduring the snail-paced Norzin Lam traffic and a dash to the BOB ATM. Finally, when it is nearly my turn (one last person in front of me), a line butter appears. He seems to be in a hurry (as they always are), rushes straight for the counter (as they always do) and starts placing his documents right under the guy-behind-the-glass- pane’s nose (always, always).

But today, I have no energy to even mutter. But I still muster enough to loudly clear my throat. No reaction. So I concentrate on the view I can see through the small window above the guy-behind-glass-pane. The biggest-sitting-Buddha statue looks awesome and serene. I feel myself calming down and then before I know it is my turn to be served.

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.