Sibling Rivalry

A typical scene whenever we got together, I mean my family and my sister’s family. Her three sons plus my two daughters, I always felt elated, a feeling I was crowned for being the mother of daughters who were supposed to be lot more silent compared to the adventure seeking three boys. “I never know if my kids are home!” I would proudly tell our cousins who would cast ‘lost cause’ look at the three boys shouting and screaming the roofs off. I would try to teach some sense to my sister in upbringing her three musketeers. “Get them into books, make them paint, let them have a favorite show, buy them games, give your laptop, blah blah.” Well, these are some things I had gotten into my two doves who sat in one corner happy with any gadget they could lay their hands on.
But of late, away from my sister and her screaming boys I feel the scene from her house is replaying itself in my house too. My silent girls have turned more skirmish and well, bit too loud too (sigh!). “Mama, can I play your phone please!” my li’l one comes innocently just when she sees her elder sister fiddling with it. On many occasions I chastise my elder one and make her give in to the innocence of the li’l one. But I know my li’l one is not as innocent as she plays it. Take for instance, during bed time, I get in between the two so that both can have equal share of me but my li’l one goes,”achuuu….mama, its cold on the side, can I come in the middle?” To any outsider it may seem like an honest plea but the way she casts a mean look on her elder sister who is holding onto me I know its sheer sibling rivalry. I have no options but to relent. I give a quick wink to my elder one, she knows this wink means,” I’ll come in between after she is asleep.”
Being the eldest one, I know how it feels when the parents always support the li’l one just because the li’l one is the younger one, hence the blessed one. So I always try to balance the choices offered to my two kids. “Mama, I don’t like this song, I want the other song!” my very particular about choices elder one quips while her baby sister is dancing to a song of her choice. “You are going to switch to ana’s choice of song after you are done with this,okay?” And I shouldn’t forget to add, “ I love the way you dance to this song but aren’t you tired with just this one?” (laugh!laugh! smile! Smile!......that does the trick!)
My li’l one digs out an old invitation card from among their books and although she doesn’t know A from S, would religiously read,” mama and papa loves ana and don’t love me!” (Pout! Tears well up!) “Baby, who told you this?” I question, exasperated with the kind of stories my li’l one is capable of cooking up. “Look! Ana has her picture on this card. I never had such card!” Well, how can I explain to a three year old that that card happened when she wasn’t born only and the reason she doesn’t have a birthday invitation card is not because we don’t love her but because we missed two of her birthdays.” This year we’ll make this kind of card for your birthday too, okay!” I promise. She giggles gleefully and runs to tell her ana about her birthday plans.
...and there are many such competitions between the two that I am often left wondering, "As a parent, am I doing justice to these two people who look at me as if I am God of some sort, always!"

The HELP: Wanted!

For the last eight years life has been smooth- sailing, at least in the home front. But now the girl who assisted me in the household chores and taking care of my children has outgrown her wings and is ready to fly away. I’ve no strings whatsoever to keep her tied to my home. When a girl attains that age there is no stopping her I guess. Candidly speaking, for the last one year I’ve been frantically making calls to every nook and corner of our country, searching for her replacement. But the response from all ends are same,” (sigh!) All girls are enrolled in school now!” There are tinges of sadness in this line. What an irony!
Actually as a woman and a teacher for that I should be proud to learn the fact that all our Bhutanese girls are now in school. Inside the classroom, this is what I always tell my girl students “Don’t drop out of school. Ever. It is only with Education that you will have your own ground to stand on. Even if you get a job that pays you minimum salary, you’ll have your own sky to claim.”
But my own words slap me with a vengeance as I utter without missing a breath,” …but there has to be some girl who cannot go to school.” Immediately I feel guilt creeping up and then I hear loud thudding in my heart which does a “what are you gonna do?” jig.
I have even gone to the extent of offering more than the minimum National wage but to no avail. I see myself turn sour to those girls who would rather slog in the scorching sun and chilly winds to earn a meager sum while the option of working in a house won’t even take half of the bitter life they lead on the roads. In my heart, I even chastise the girls choosing the drayangs over the warm homes. Their mathematics seems to be poor but I think they would rather choose to be the boss instead of being bossed around (wait! On the second hand, are they the bosses of their own body in these drayangs?Well!Well!Take No Offence! I’m not saying anything against these Drayang girls.)
As a last option I think of the girls across the border that can be willing to jump at the offer of half the wage offered to the Bhutanese girls but how can I defy the laws of my country. My country doesn’t allow these across the border helpers to ease the burden of our household chores. So the final option would be resigning from the job I love so much. I cannot see myself sitting at home cooking and cleaning. Teaching is more than a bread earning device for me, it’s a passion. But now within these two months I’ve to find someone to take the reins of my household chores if not maybe….I even dread to think of that option.
But how can I save my job? Is this an indirect indication that with this rule of no across the border babysitters allowed, our government is telling us, the Bhutanese women to return to our primitive place- the kitchen? I don’t intend to raise my finger to the government but I know of no option offered in place of the no bringing in labor from outside while our own Bhutanese market has no one offering their services of babysitters.
I know even as I am frantically calling my relatives and friends, there are many others doing the same. I know the story I am telling is not mine alone, there are many women who are crying out the same. So, on behalf of all these women, I would like to ask, where do we find a solution? Who do we turn onto to save us from losing our well-deserved career just because we need proper care for our kids?

How safe are we, the women?

“Women thy name is frailty,” Shakespeare said. This is something to ponder on. Are the women really frail? In what sense are they frail? Are they frail in strength? Frail in their character? Frail in their emotions? Or plainly frail in the sense of their presence in the world?
A girl in Delhi, gang raped in a moving bus and brutally discarded has led to uproar in many cities of India. This is one incident that has been brought to our eyes, all thanks to media. But we know in our hearts that many such incidences happen every day in the lives of women all over the world but remain hidden in the guise of family prestige and fear of becoming an outcast.
Yet, I am sure still many of us in Bhutan hardly cared for this Delhi incident. Then came in the story about our own two Bhutanese girls who were molested by two BMTC employees in Bangalore. Eyebrows of more Bhutanese raised and we could see people in our country too questioning the safety of women in the world.
But come to think of it, how safe are our own Bhutanese women in Bhutan? As an adult I’ve not taken a ride in public buses and I do speak with my fingers crossed hoping against hope that now the scenario would have changed somehow. I remember, back in my childhood days, private cars were luxury affordable for the few affluent only. So as a little girl travelling to my relatives places I remember travelling in buses. The handy boy would pass lewd comments on the female passengers and the other fellow travelers would bellow with laughter, enjoying each moment of the awkward situation in which the woman in question would be put in. Sometimes, one had to witness ghastly scenes of men touching women in awkward places in these buses. Who thought of these actions as more than a simple game men were allowed to play by the default of being born a man?
Today as we witness more such crimes happening in all pockets of the world, we might begin to question ourselves, is this culmination of such casual pranks that has given birth to such horrendous acts? And the most important question to ask is should we allow ourselves to be a victim or even a spectator of such social evils? Can we let these devils in the guise of humans go scot free? Don’t we think that at some point not just the women but even men have a higher price to pay as a father? As a brother? As a husband? Or even for the simple reason of co- existing in the beautiful world created by God for both male and female?
Maybe, today one Damini succumbed to death as a result of the brutish act of six men but how many Daminis should die to wake up the humans in these brutes? How many such horrors should women live to ultimately be blessed with a space to walk free of fear on the Earth in which they were created to live and flourish in?