Ninda tells a story

Being away from home for almost a month now, we have run out of books but my kids won't let me sleep until I read them a story.

So, we struggle to grasp the tab from little Ninda who has declared full ownership of this gadget for his temple run games. This little guy can really flick his tiny fingers through the gross- looking dungeons, I tell you. Well, I've always been a stickler for denying love for such games I guess.

As I was telling you, the three of us struggle to borrow his tab for about twenty minutes to find nice bedtime stories online. After much push and pull and tears and yells ( doesn't sound like a picture perfect moment, ewww!!!! But wait, it lasts only till the buffering stops to a cool display of online read aloud stories and the tiny tyrant too is deeply engrossed in the stories.

Good riddance of the temple run for another half an hour at least!!!

We browse through stories, laughing and giggling with the characters. I daren't choose stories with ugly creatures in it. Ninda gets scared too quickly and starts pulling the tab for that gross game of his.

But today, his sisters ( after listening to four Peepa Pig stories) are already dreaming of ice creams and lollipops while this little guy is busy flicking his fingers on the tab, tossing the ugly creature across the dungeon of no end.

I'm sleepy but can't afford to fall asleep yet! Not with this energetic little one still up and about. (Sigh! The life of a mother!)

To tire him out, I snuggle close to him and pester him for a story. "So-ri?" He seems flabbergasted hearing me plead for a story. From him.

I keep on with the show. He relents finally! Without even casting an eye on me (fingers still busy in the dungeon).

"There was a girl," he begins.
"Uh-huh," I nod to probe him to continue.

"Owwwww I'm dead!" He huffs in anger, continuing the game without wasting a second and the girl of his intended story, long forgotten.

"What about the girl?" I test him and his tiny patience.

"She cried!" He declares in a non-committed tone. Well, even he knows that all that girls do, is cry. He has seen all the females in the house cry. No blaming him for picking that plot for his story.

"Why was she crying?" I ask, sounding very pegged onto the story.

His fingers flicking, he says, "she wanted....." He takes a long pause. I don't think he is cooking up the next event for his story, it's just that his game is done for another time.

"Dolls?" Tatu, who I thought was fast asleep suggests. Looks like even she was trying to follow the little one's first attempt at telling a story.

"Tatu, you tell the story!" He orders and turns to the other side, leaving me with no space to pester him.

Kadrinche Mewang Cho

Some four decades ago, a country, just a mere speck on the big wide world stood away from the clamor and chaos of cities wanting to spurt ahead, racing with each other; competing with developmental activities; spreading their boundary like smashing down a heaped plate of rice. While the wide world was jostling for power and pawns, this country lay hidden in its rich forest, silently prodding in its own snail’s pace; contended with the bounty and blessings of Mother Nature.

People woke up with the cockerel announcing the daybreak. They toiled in their fields; ate what they grew and lived with the cattle in the same structure they called home. They knew not that the world was not flat as they assumed and it wasn’t the sun, which made rounds of the earth. Water was what flowed in the rivers and streams and never something that could run in one’s own house. When they fell sick, they depended on the shamans and man of God to cure them. Various ailments had no names; all was attributed to the unseen ghosts and spirits. Horses were vehicles of the rich and the affluent as many walked barefoot with callused feet never fathoming something called shoes even existed.

In such hour, a man who was pre-destined to be a leader beyond comparison took birth in the Female Wood Sheep year. The country rejoiced the glorious birth of the young prince. It is said that a great Terton Drukdra Dorji had already prophesied “ In the hidden lowland of the southern country, where three valleys merge in a beautiful place called Womtrong, in the female wood sheep year, a boy of unsurpassed character will be born. He will ascend the Golden Throne at the age of 20 and take his country to the greatest heights of success unopposed.”

The age mentioned in the prophecy had been a calculation as per the lunar calendar. As was fated, his teenage shoulder bore the burden of the country after the untimely passing away of his Father, THE FATHER OF MODERN BHUTAN.

At seventeen, the young king stood with dignity at Changlimithang ground and only a man of destiny could have conjured up the powerful speech that bespoke the wisdom that surpassed the age he carried in his young heart. Toiling on the seeds of development sown by his father, the visionary leader walked with the gaiety of a leader who was to lead the country from its dark tunnel of isolation to the open field of light and illumination.

This King walked with dreams in his mind and his subjects in his heart. From the very start of his reign, he placed his people in the forefront and the enlightened father led his countrymen towards the right approach morally and ethically, taking baby steps to ensure his children walked in tandem with his vision. He didn’t make the destination evident but he ensured his subjects knew the path well as he personally walked alongside them. Nobody ever fathomed that gradually; he was leading his people to understand the power of their existence, which he always asserted as more important than his right over them as a king. He was a man who used his power to empower the citizens of his country.

Slowly, he widened the door that his late father had opened to the outside world and Bhutan began to drink in the glory of guided empowerment. Villages met villages with roads snaking between them. Hamlets connected to another hamlet widening the social network. The paths where horses trotted before, vehicles zoomed.

Dark days were visibly coming to an end. The houses in distant hamlets glowered akin to the stars in the dark sky. Winding farm roads connected the remotest village to the nearest town in the district. The products from their fields set on a journey to markets ringing in money in the pockets of the growers. Cattles moved away from the dwellings of humans. Sanitation and hygiene became an issue worth being knowledgeable about. Healthcare facilities were set up in every village. Different ailments had names that came with scientific cures. Running water streamed in through the many taps in every household. People came to know where the sun vanished as night fell and they got rid of the fear of falling from the edge of the flat world. Bells summoned more and more children to schools mushrooming in every nook and corner of the country illuminating the otherwise dark days.

The Weary Father stopped not and stooped never. He taught many valuable aspects of life by being the exemplary figure himself. He taught his people that emotional well-being is more important than economic booms. His this thought has resonated in every corners of the world and now amidst struggles for power and greed for more wealth, Nations are halting to understand the concept of GNH, an idea that generated from that speck of a country which the world never knew existed. Now, as every country, raided and butchered by the rising need of economy’s boom and doom stop to understand the reverberations of this noble concept; they marvel how a simple concept such as this can make humungous difference between a robotic life and a life truly lived in its right essence.

The concept of Gross National Happiness is his profound gift to the world. If only, all the leaders of the world chose happiness over materialistic wealth; wouldn’t that make our Mother Earth smile her widest smile?

Being happy is one thing but it definitely doesn’t mean not choosing to walk into battlefield merely because we call ourselves “happy people”. Our Beloved King has proven his stand as the true son of Palden Drukpa by not merely choosing to be a King who sat on his throne but by choosing to lead our country in getting rid of the imbecile pests that endangered the safety of our country. Majestically leading the army, not a hint of fear for his own safety, he led the other courageous sons of our country to the battlefield. But such is the modesty of his victory that rather than blowing the trumpet of his glorious win; he chose to mourn the people who perished in the unfortunate battle between the impossible and the imposters.

Prince Siddhartha left the glorious palace in search of truth. Our Beloved His Majesty sought the truth of our sovereignty and gained it with the ease just like Lord Buddha attained enlightenment sitting under a Bodhi tree. In retrospect, we look at these acts as miraculously achieved feats only possible because they were specially born for such feats.

Time tested him and each time he proved the reason for his existence was but to lead his people to the glory of their own powers. He held open his palm, offering his people the choices they not even dreamt of, lest ask for it. Bhutan evolved from an isolated and ignorant country to a country of equal intelligence as that of the developed world during the glorious reign of His Majesty the Fourth Druk Gyalpo. Celebrating the silver jubilee of his glorious reign, Bhutanese people realized the power of the flick of a fingertip. Clicking on the remote control swapping channels on cable television to flicking one’s fingers on the computer to get the information from the World of World Wide Web and dot coms, Bhutan ushered in modernity.

Just when People immersed themselves in the vain world of the illusionary world of the Internet and various television channels, our King left us baffled by inviting the concept of Democracy. Never in history would we find a man in power divulge the secret that would put his own stand in jeopardy. Such is the grandeur of our King.

And while the people stood, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the special gift the King had just bestowed upon them; he voiced out his decision to abdicate the Throne to make way for the next Monarch in line. Such selfless man, if not God, is definitely nothing less than a God.

Quietly in his retired stance, had it been any other being, he would have become just a monument, a memento of importance but no! His gift of GNH prods our country deeper and deeper into the wide world. His sacrifices for our sovereignty are a discipline of patriotism that every Bhutanese carry in their hearts with utmost pride. His unusual gift of democracy is a sacred task each Bhutanese revere with paramount magnitude.

Bhutan Then and Bhutan Now sounds and looks very different but in every essence, it reflects the dedication and sincerity with which our Fourth Druk Gyalpo Jigme Singye Wangchuk propelled it forward. In every essence, it radiates the hopes and visions with which our Great Father designed the architecture of our country. Bhutan is one of the most beautiful countries in the world, a perfect blend of tradition and modernity, only because our leader emboldened it with their vigilant care and consciousness.

Therefore, as the country celebrates the completion of a rabjung of this great visionary father, all agree with our Beloved people’s king Jigme Khesar Namgyal Wangchuk, who affirmed “There has never been a King like His Majesty Jigme Singye Wangchuk in our history and there will never be a greater King ever.”

Kadrinche Mewang Choe for giving us heaven on earth.

A bed time Story

There are nights when I wish I had all the money in the world to be able to buy loads and loads of books for my kids. Especially, the nights when we land up having no new books to read for the nightly reading time. It is then I need to put on my “Creative Head” and conjure up stories to fill in their “hungry for stories” pangs before bedtime.

My Two year old is also totally into the books and stories thingie now and wouldn’t allow me to sleep in peace if I don’t tell him stories of his liking. Well, my son is a big “animal lover”. He absolutely loves them. Another thing he cannot be seen without is his Badminton racquet. Even when he is busy with other stuff, he has to carrying his badminton racquet and shuttlecock. So, here is his favorite night time story these days. (You can quit reading if it bores you ;) Just felt the need to share this story so that you too can be motivated to conjure up stories with the stuff your kids love and don’t forget, your little kiddo has to feature in the story. Keep it Real! )

“Once an eaphant (elephant) badly needed a friend to play with. He searched the entire forest looking for a playmate. In a meadow, filled with green grasses, he met a ‘Moo Cow’ (cow). He asked the Moo Cow, “ Would you like to play with me?” The Moo Cow immediately agreed but set her own rules.

“ I want to play Badminton!” she declared.

“Bu…u…ut, I don’t want to play Badminton,” pouted the Eaphant.

“Then I don’t want to play with you,” Moo Cow said and went looking for a partner. She saw a Horsey (horse) running playfully in the meadow.

“Horsey, come lets play Badminton,” as soon as Moo Cow said this, Horsey readily accepted the offer.

“Where are the Racquets?” asked he.

“I don’t have!” Moo Cow mooed Loudly. “But I know Ninda has it,” she added, dragging Horsey towards Ninda’s house.

Knock…knock…knock…they knocked on Ninda’s door. (knock using your knuckles on your little one’s forehead.But do it lightly!)

Nobody answered.
Then they pressed on the doorbell. Tr….r…rr……iii…..nnn…..ngg…..(Press on your little one’s nose, they love this and gurgling giggles is guaranteed).

Ninda was playing with his truck inside. He heard the doorbell and called out, “mamaaaaa…..Someone’s at the door.”

Mama opened the door (Put your palm across your little one’s face and act out the opening of the door) to find Moo Cow and Horsey standing outside.

“Ninda, give me your Badminton racquet,” Moo Cow snatched the Racquet while Horsey asked politely and took the other.

“Mamaaaa…I don’t have any racquet to play,” Ninda cried.

Mama took the racquets from the two animals scolding them, “These are my Ninda’s!” and put it on….

“The cupboard,” Ninda adds. That’s where they normally keep the racquets.

Quickly Mama brought out the football and so Moo Cow, Horsey, Ninda and Mama played football.

“Bhhhuuuutttaaannnnn ni?” Ninda adds. He has watched the recent football matches between Bhutan and other countries. So he never forgets to cheer for Bhutan whenever he kicks his football.

“And the four of them played football happily,” Mama ends the story.

“Good night,” Mama kisses Ninda.

“Seeep tight,” Ninda responds kissing Mama back.

P.S. This is a fun way of putting your little one to bed. Think of your own creative stories involving your little ones and the stuff they love.