A journey to the unknown
It was raining heavily as I waited for the porters to arrive from a place of my initial posting. In a brief moment, I heard faintly the footsteps of mules and horses approaching hurriedly. I panicked as I was told by a stranger a moment ago that Kangpar is almost a day‟s walk from the transit camp where I stood.
27
At six in the morning on 2nd March the following day, along with the care taker of the school and with running horses we began our journey; some of us had nothing to carry yet travel. I asked the caretaker why the place we are heading is named Kangpar; the caretaker said “kang means foot and par meaning –Print).As we by past the thinly tread treacherous trails infested with leeches, I in a distance spotted mountains like that of a broken mirror, blur and dead, engaged in nothing.
But I still moved on until we came to a resting place, the journey seemed tedious, just half way, totally exasperating and never ending. I was exhausted and never wanted to be a teacher in such a far-flung place. As we ascended, the “Dipla” pass down the meandering river the sight of the fluttering prayer flags gave me the guts to go on though we did not meet even a single soul. we walked and talked, climbing and descending the rugged cliffs became a routine, the area smelled like a dried fish, dead and rotten as if deprived to flower and flourish.
I blamed and cursed my fate for the deliverance and the picture of an arrogant- capricious HRO (human resource officer) in the capital came on my mind and wished if I were a lady, like my mates. I brooded and asked if the gender equality was existent in Bhutan.Yes there is certainly, my instinct answered it all. Yet still I moved on with undeterred hope pathetic and hopeless.
The jersey that the school concierge wore read “You will never walk alone” and yes I never walked alone that day while making transitions and adjustments walking up hill feebly for the very first time in my life.
My blue shirt became almost like a dirty red, because of the drizzle and my shoes could no longer hold my foot, as it kept changing size occasionally.
28
By ten in the evening, we made to our destination just like a team of hungry hunters, sick and hopeless. Even today, the journey embarked some years back gives me a sense of hysteria.
The next day I was offered a small dingy classroom as my nesting place and laid my bed with only a cup and plate. The place was simply funny as it did not have any windows but had a roof fortunately, half broken yet to be a mending roof.
The school parched on a small hillock and was dead and silent. On the premises were some old graffiti, a work of art by the naughty boys and girls. Since then, I realized that to teach children in such a remote hamlet would be challenging and brain killing. The school structure was simply dilapidated and needed immediate restoration.
The ministry of education must not really create rooms for unnecessary comments and strangle the morale of teachers. I thought that it was total disparity.
In the mean time I taught and my tolerance was tested repeatedly sometimes by the earthquake, sometimes by the landslides and storm. Thank you, you saved me to grow and mature.
In retrospect, I am now happy for I learnt a lot from my first place of posting. You taught me how to imbibe maize wine, thank you, for bangchang (juice extracted from maize) kept me going (fuelling) those three long years of my service to the nation. You helped me bridge my innocence and helped be mature, for from hardships and difficulties a man grows to be a man. Yes! You truly made a difference and I genuinely made an effort in the lives of the remote children. I am proud I made a difference.
It was raining heavily as I waited for the porters to arrive from a place of my initial posting. In a brief moment, I heard faintly the footsteps of mules and horses approaching hurriedly. I panicked as I was told by a stranger a moment ago that Kangpar is almost a day‟s walk from the transit camp where I stood.
27
At six in the morning on 2nd March the following day, along with the care taker of the school and with running horses we began our journey; some of us had nothing to carry yet travel. I asked the caretaker why the place we are heading is named Kangpar; the caretaker said “kang means foot and par meaning –Print).As we by past the thinly tread treacherous trails infested with leeches, I in a distance spotted mountains like that of a broken mirror, blur and dead, engaged in nothing.
But I still moved on until we came to a resting place, the journey seemed tedious, just half way, totally exasperating and never ending. I was exhausted and never wanted to be a teacher in such a far-flung place. As we ascended, the “Dipla” pass down the meandering river the sight of the fluttering prayer flags gave me the guts to go on though we did not meet even a single soul. we walked and talked, climbing and descending the rugged cliffs became a routine, the area smelled like a dried fish, dead and rotten as if deprived to flower and flourish.
I blamed and cursed my fate for the deliverance and the picture of an arrogant- capricious HRO (human resource officer) in the capital came on my mind and wished if I were a lady, like my mates. I brooded and asked if the gender equality was existent in Bhutan.Yes there is certainly, my instinct answered it all. Yet still I moved on with undeterred hope pathetic and hopeless.
The jersey that the school concierge wore read “You will never walk alone” and yes I never walked alone that day while making transitions and adjustments walking up hill feebly for the very first time in my life.
My blue shirt became almost like a dirty red, because of the drizzle and my shoes could no longer hold my foot, as it kept changing size occasionally.
28
By ten in the evening, we made to our destination just like a team of hungry hunters, sick and hopeless. Even today, the journey embarked some years back gives me a sense of hysteria.
The next day I was offered a small dingy classroom as my nesting place and laid my bed with only a cup and plate. The place was simply funny as it did not have any windows but had a roof fortunately, half broken yet to be a mending roof.
The school parched on a small hillock and was dead and silent. On the premises were some old graffiti, a work of art by the naughty boys and girls. Since then, I realized that to teach children in such a remote hamlet would be challenging and brain killing. The school structure was simply dilapidated and needed immediate restoration.
The ministry of education must not really create rooms for unnecessary comments and strangle the morale of teachers. I thought that it was total disparity.
In the mean time I taught and my tolerance was tested repeatedly sometimes by the earthquake, sometimes by the landslides and storm. Thank you, you saved me to grow and mature.
In retrospect, I am now happy for I learnt a lot from my first place of posting. You taught me how to imbibe maize wine, thank you, for bangchang (juice extracted from maize) kept me going (fuelling) those three long years of my service to the nation. You helped me bridge my innocence and helped be mature, for from hardships and difficulties a man grows to be a man. Yes! You truly made a difference and I genuinely made an effort in the lives of the remote children. I am proud I made a difference.
No comments:
Post a Comment