Stolen Crayon Box

A Village Boy

CHAPTER THREE

Stolen Crayon Box

It was a beautiful Sunday. I was a reserved boy; the crowd and loitering around were not my passion. Many of my friends would be gone to play. That day I remained in hostel trying to mend my torn uniform. The uniform that served different purposes for more than a year. It will have to continue to serve same purposes again and again until my parents can afford to get new one. I knew that day wouldn’t come any time soon. Therefore, I will have to keep on mending, stitching it to keep myself warm and clothed.

I would never harm anyone. I would never share my pain to anyone. I kept everything, that is odd, to myself. I won’t steal anything belonging to my friends, not even if someone would have taken my pencil at night, which was cloaked inside the jachung of my gho. I had jachung (the thin cloth stitched on the inside edges of gho) in my uniform cut with my teeth to fit in my pencil. When the classes are over, pencil and eraser would be cloaked in through; to make sure that it is not misplaced. The fear that Mr. NK will throw me down on the floor for not having pencil to write in class didn’t give me enough courage to steal something which didn’t belong to me. But, not every friend of mine was same. Some didn’t care about others’ innocence. Two of my friends broke into the class and stole a crayon box. I knew they did it because they came to hostel with it.

Tomorrow was different taste for us, more specifically to me. Our Headmaster knew about it, because boxes were in countable numbers and they left wooden windows wide-opened. He wanted to know who did it. No one claimed the responsibility. Headmaster then decided to punish whole of class, that is, caning again. Who would like to get caned, I never liked it. I knew no one in the class would like it. However, I didn’t know that it would be only me who would get caned at the end of the day. Very two friends of mine, who broke into the class stood up and pointed their fingers at me. They got up and said, “Sir, it is Nima who did it”. I was totally surprised and frightened. What a betrayal! What did I do to deserve that? I didn’t harm them, I never thought bad of them, but why me? These were questions running through my mind. The Headmaster shouted at me, “Get up and come here”. I was so frightened; I got up immediately and went to him. He made me stand in front of class. “Why did you do that? Who told you to do that?”, he continued to scold me. “I didn’t do it Sir”, I replied. Did he believe me? No he didn’t, instead it got worse. “Now you want to lie to me huh?”, he repeated these words many times continuing to cane me.

It was an unusual and difficult Monday. That day I had friends who betrayed me, and a teacher who didn’t believe me. I almost lost hope in everything; I missed home then, needed to see my parents, more desiringly my mother who would hold me in her arms. When that class was over, I would have gone to those two friends and picked up a fight. Did I do that? No I didn’t, I don’t wanted to, I just kept my anger, frustration and pain for myself. I wanted to let it pass, and never think of it. But, sometimes it is very difficult to let it go when your nearest ones let you down. The pain continued for few more days, it haunted me for quite a sometime.

The Curious Ball

A Village Boy

CHAPTER TWO

The Curious Ball

“Good Morning Sir”, said class together, standing up for our teacher. The teacher must have been in his thirties. He was also the Head teacher, known by then as a Headmaster. He was definitely not from Zhemgang Dzongkhag. “Good morning children”, he said. “You can now sit down”, he continued. “We will start our class as usual, are you ready?”, the teacher asked. “Yes Sir’, we all replied excitedly. ‘Ok then let us start, one, two and three”. “Today is Monday, it is sunny day…” It used to be quite a long singing, which I don’t remember now. “Ok, very good, children”, he used to say. That is how, our classes used to begin, we used to sing many songs together. We used to love singing ‘Nima Karma had a farm’, ‘Ten Green Bottles Hanging on the Wall’, ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’, and in Dzongkha “Alo tshu pang na ma jo’, ‘Chap-di Chap-do Chep-chep’ were some of our favourites.

We had around five teachers including Headmaster. They were all male teachers. In the class roughly we were twelve. It was male dominated class; we had just one girl in the class. Her name was Kinley Pemo. Don’t misunderstand me; I remember her name because she was only girl in our class. Not because I had some kind of feeling to her. Unfortunately, I don’t remember many names of my male classmates. I almost forgot! We had a ferocious Dzonkha teacher. We used to call him within ourselves DLT. Everyone feared him, I wasn’t exception. Dzongkha teachers are well known for disciplines. My concentration would be most of the time drawn more towards fear than his teachings. If we were to measure wealth by ability to torture students, he could have been the wealthiest person. Caning, pulling of ears, slapping were part of his classes. Another male teacher was also not very short of these characters; he was not very poor indeed. Other two teachers I can remember were two Indian teachers named NK and John. We used to fear Mr. NK very much, he was scary man; if he was not pleased with one of us, he used to lift us up placing his palms over the ears and throw us on the ground. What a pain it used to be, we had a status no more than bell or a drum, or an animal. Mr. John was lively, we used to love him, and he was not so scary. Sometimes his pinching used to be quite painful but comparatively better. We didn’t enjoy classes as much as today’s children would enjoy. There were never a time we could attend fearless classes.

However, around all these fears and difficult learning there was one hope, a place of happiness; a curious ball. Right after class I used to run to the playground and watch enviously our seniors play that curious ball. I used to wish, if I could get to play that ball on that lovely green playground located on the peak. The playground was beautiful, on the left hand side there was a volleyball playground, on the right hand side, it was grassy slope leading to school vegetable garden in the valley. It was not merely a vegetable garden, it also had three aged plum trees. Those trees must have been there for many years, and must have witnessed many students graduate from the school. Those trees bared fruits very rarely, and those trees may not have ever witnessed their fruits ripe. Too much for the plum trees. The curious ball again, football or a soccer ball, whichever name you like it. The desire to get in, let my feet tease it was unattainable dream. I was too young, and too small comparatively to enter into the field; seniors never allowed me to be part of it. I never got that chance, it remain a dream. It was very unfortunate, I never became a footballer instead, I became a ball boy. It was not that I was forced to become one, but out of my curiosity and love for the ball. I used to run through bushes to the plum trees valley to get the ball. I used to love doing that, to hold it in my hand, hoping that there will be so called one day for me in the future. Once, it so happened that I got injured myself. The stem of a grass went piercing all through my leg muscle (bjemthag). I still have the scar, which is visible from both side of my right leg. That was all out of love for the curious ball.

A Village Boy - Chapter One

A JOURNEY  TO SCHOOL

It was bright sunny day. Few kids (all boys) were lined up. I was one amongst them. I didn't know what was going on. It was very unusual and I was very scared. We were taken in one after another. Before, it was time for me to get in, I decided to escape. I ran as fast as I could. But unfortunately (unfortunate atleast that time) I could not out run people who ran after me. I was taken in, and there were three or four people sitting in there. I was still not sure what was going on. One of them asked me to put my right hand over my head and try to reach my left ear. I tried stretching so hard to make sure I reach it, so that I could get out of there as soon as possible. I didn't know why I was made to do that, but all I knew that time was, that I need to get out of there at any cost. Other guy said, you are good to go, now you are ready to go to school. School!! What was that? I didn't know anything about school. 

My parents tried to explain me about school, but still it didn't interest me. I had no option, after few weeks everything was ready, and I am to go to school. May be new dress might have inspired me to go to school. That was only time when I got to wear something new. My mother packed something for me. We are ready to go, my younger sister came to me and said, "Acho!". "Yes", I replied. "This is for you", she said, and handed me a two Ngultrum Note. Two Ngultrum was very huge sum by then, it would fetch me around twenty lollies. She gave me her saving out of love to me, I could feel her love. There was no time to say farewell to my other family members, they have already left to attend their daily chores. I was escaping from my share of works, I would usually cow herd. That day was different for me, I was leaving home to place I have never been; a place away from home. My mother and I, along with other two boys accompanied by their parents walked, crossed rivers, mountains, deep forests, farms, fields, bridges. Still I could not see so called school anywhere. It didn't matter, I was still with my mother by then. After almost a day long walk, we reached at new place. Place called Lichibee. School was located on top of the hill, my school, 'Goshing Primary School'. Many new faces, some well and smart looking boys, some beautiful girls, some even dressed worse than me. Some were wearing something on their feet. I didn't know what it was that time, if I could recollect it now it must have been shoe and slipper. Not many had it, may be teachers' children and some health staff's children must have had it. Did I envy their looks? I don't know if I did, but very hard thing for me that day, which I can still remember is that pain I had to bear when my mother left me at that new place with new people. 

I could not talk to anyone, I was not brave-hearted, was always a shy and reserved boy. Didn't make friend very easily. I started to worry; what would I do alone in this place? Where do I sleep? Where do I eat? Where do I find toilet? I cried whole day that day. I missed home, I wished if I could find a way home, if I had strength and heart to cross rivers, thick jungles. I was too young, too subtle at heart, I could not do anything. I stayed close to my other two friends from my village. To make sure that I don't get lost somewhere in the crowd of new faces. We were taken to a traditional house, a two storied traditional house. The top floor and half of down floor housed boys. In other half of the down floor there were few girls. There was nothing inside, I had one small bag with me. I didn't have mattress, I didn't have quilt, all I had was that new school dress. by then I knew that my that dress will have to serve not only its original purpose but also be my mattress and quilt. I missed my home that night, I don't know how much, if there were devices to measure that, it must have been immeasurable. I missed, my mother, my father, my brothers and sisters, the dinner we used to have together. I could not control my tears, tears of loneliness, tears of fear, tears of missing home. I cried that night until I was totally exhausted, slept a night with salty smell and taste of tears running through my cheeks, wondering about tomorrow; thinking about what it would be like, how would I be able to see through tomorrow.