BREAKING CLUMPS OF SOIL UNDER MOON-LIT NIGHTS

It was a full moon night. Houses in the village nearby can be seen silhouetted against the moon lit background. The village looks to have slept long time back, soon after the night has fallen. There were no electricity and people hardly stayed awake for few hours after the darkness.

But, out in the barren field someway away from the village, a group of young men and women, and few boys and girls are in the middle of a work amidst laughter, whispers and occasional bouts of singing. Bizarre it may sound but, sometimes, some households in my village hired helping hands of young men and women during the full moon nights to break clumps of dry soil in preparation for the oncoming wheat sowing.

I didn’t understand then on why people hired helping hands during nights. Now I understand how people must have had their hands full during the day, so that something less serious like breaking down clumps of soil can be done in the low visibility of the moon-lit nights. However, young men and women and even small boys and girls always looked forward excitedly to be working in barren fields during night time. In fact, all the young people (single) in the village will turn up for the task, each holding a long handled wooden mallet. The reason for excitement is all too obvious.

Winter is cold in place like Bumthang even during the day. Night is even colder with temperatures plummeting below freezing point and the gutsy wind that blows in the valley adds to the misery but, when you are young, you always have the gut to ignore the inclement weather. And the prospect of being able to flirt with the beautiful girls of the village under the cover of hazy moonlight with the opportunity provided by the night errand always makes it exciting for young men and women. It can be possible, that some of the matches must have taken shape while attending such errands.

Younger boys and girls who are too naïve to understand true romance are consigned to one side while more matured engineered their plans to be closer to each other where they can share their feelings and hatch naughty plans under whispers and flirt with each other.

Often, the talks in the night are between a pair in hushed tone and the sounds of bursting clumps under the force of mallets are all that can be heard loud and clear. But sometimes someone in the group starts talking loud so that rests of the members hears him. Even though, someone demands attention from the rest, there would be nothing serious to talk about but, share some raunchy jokes, that triggers bouts of laughter in the group. Sometimes, the young people sing in unison and sometimes, young men and women contest in the rendition of ballad (Tzangmo).

Tzangmo is sung in such a way that, after the first group or individual rendered four lines, the other group responses with another four lines that is basically a reply to what the first group implied through their rendition. On occasion like this, young men on one side will face off with women on the other. These kinds of rendition contest are known to go on till the wee hours of mornings. If the first one sings something sweet, the respondent tries to make it even sweeter and likewise, if one group sings something with unsavory connotation, the other will try to make it even nastier but, this normally ends with reconciliatory note. I admired at the reputation of some people who are known to be a great repository of Tzangmos.

It was funny too that, although blisters may begin forming in their palms, there is no lacking in will to go on hammering the last sizeable clumps.  Perhaps, the excitement of working side by side with the girls and boys of one’s liking may have enabled their hearts to pump lot of adrenalin into their muscles that, holding high, long handled wooden mallet and bringing them strongly on clumps of soil with thuds just comes spontaneously and effortlessly. As nights wear on,excitement among the young ones fade. Their eyes become bleary and they wish to run back home and snuggle under blankets but, the older ones remain oblivious to their plight blinded by their adrenalin rush.

This often goes on into the wee hours of the morning depending on the sizes of fields. In the end, all walk back to the house which hired those hands. The relative darkness offers privacy from prying eyes and most would be walking either hand in hand or side by side nudging each other’s shoulders flirtatiously. But, that is it. After a mug of steaming buttered tea and some snacks, boys will leave for their homes and girls will sleep in the host’s home until the next morning. 

That was how it used to be then. Now, wheat and potato fields are giving way to mushrooming of hotels, resorts and other commercial ventures. I am sure people no longer need to hire helping hands and young men and women also no longer need to go to break clumps for a chance to flirt any more.

Gyembo Namgyal

 May 19, 2015 11:55 PM

THE FIRST ARDUOUS WALK-A WALK TO REMEMBER

picture: google

Tshering and Namgyal were mere acquaintance during their training days.Tshering is from Haa in Western Bhutan and Namgyal is from Bumthang in Central Bhutan. Both had their separate friends in the training institute and despite being cordial to each other, their association cannot be termed as that of friendship.

But what happens next is a complete surprise. After the training, both were sent to a remote village in Pemagatshel in Eastern Bhutan to serve. And neither spoke a word of the local dialect Tshangla. So after spending some weeks at the dzongkhag headquarters, they finally embark on their journey to their place of posting in Dungmin village. It is the remotest gewog in the dzongkhag devoid of roads, electricity or any communication facility.

Both become dejected when they leave the last motorable road at the gypsum mines and start walking. Dungmin is officially two days away from the nearest road head. Tshering did spend some months studying in the engineering college in Deothang before quitting it. But Namgyal had never been to east in his life. Both came from rural settings but, what they are embarking on is something they have not even imagined in their life.

At the bottom of the valley, they have to cross a stream several times back and forth. After that, the climb begins. Both the young men sweated profusely and from time to time they had to take rest underneath shades of trees. After hours of walking they reach Tsebar village. They were extremely thirsty following the loss of water from their body through sweats that have drenched their shirt when they reached the first village.

So relieved were they to find a water tap in the middle of the village. Both the men were not accustomed to the tricks of walking long distances. So thirsty were they that they drank and drank until they felt satisfied. They thought this will energize them to make the remainder of the journey. How wrong were they, they could hardly walk few steps. So lethargic they have become by then that they could barely take few steps at a time before slumping to the ground. This was the first hard lessons they learnt on walking that, no matter how thirsty you are, you must refrain from excessive drinking.

From Tsebar village, they could see the majestic chorten on the ridge above. The chorten looked tantalizingly close and within reach but,  in reality, the young men felt as if the chorten was moving away from them. At last, the reach the small pass where the chorten stands. They circumbulate the chorten three times and then resume their journey.

These novice walkers thought that, walking downhill would be an easy task. They found out how wrong they were. For few hundred metres, the men walked light footed but then after an hour of walking downhill, they felt weakness and pains on their knees. The walk slows down but the sun will not wait even for the first timers and since it is winter darkness creeps in fast. So the young men must pick themselves up and push on. The two men learn their second reality that, walking even downhill on steep terrain is no easier than walking up hill as was widely thought.

They reach Dungmin by the sun down and soon the darkness was all around. The silence of the night was eerie as the village nearby sleeps early. They put up in a small office for the night and although they were hungry, they skip dinner. Soon, sleep overtakes their senses and they drift to dreams. Both the men sleep fitfully on the same bed, there was just one.

Both the young men were so tired but, the experiences of the day have impact on the mental state of the young men that they dream uncomfortably. And in the crucible of his dream, Namgyal  saw people of various sizes and shapes shouting at his face in unison as if conveying some kind of message in alien language. He woke up and opened his eyes to see what was happening. And yes, people were indeed shouting. He opened the window little and saw people carrying huge bamboo candlelight and walking away from the village. There were sounds of clanking of small bells tied around the necks of horses. Is he dreaming? He pinched himself to understand if he was awake. Yes, he was. He wakes his friend and they discuss why the village folks are running away in the middle of the night. They became panicky but, stayed put wishing for the dawn to break.

The following day, they learn that people from remote villages had to walk in the middle of the night to the nearest road point at Denchi to do shopping for even the most basic essentials and return back the same day. This was the ways of the village. By sun-down, the village sleeps and wakes up in the middle of the night to begin the day. There are so much to learn for these two men in the days and months ahead. Will they learn, only time will tell.

Gyembo Namgyal

February 10, 2015 11:58 PM