An Inception (A Dream)
With the trouble n my head, stress in heart and depressed brain, I was walking out in a village. It was no other than the place where I was brought up. I still remember how I used to play in the meadow, enchanted by my calf Tawzom. I remember how his mother used to be a rarest cow that obeys while he was a stern opposite. Nevertheless dreaming about them is a dream come true. In a meadow, I was running home. I knew I had works to do. Yet the meadow never seemed to end. I ran and only thing that savored my running was the glistening forehead with sweat and scorching sun above.
I waited under a tree. The temptation to get the watermelon from nearby Meme Rinchen’s garden was nearing my glottis yet I remained silent. For a moment I saw my late mother. In dilemma, I was wondering even in dream, a part of my consciousness says that she passed away; yet how possible when she was luring around me as if she wanted me something from me. I just couldn’t resist her presence without any words from her, I shouted; “Aaaama”, I was brought back to my real world. Shocked! It reminded me of the Neo in Matrix trilogy.
I murmured my usual prayers, turned on the heater and then again pulled my blanket over. My father is leaving for grinding maize. Mother is still inside. Her wry smile and the benign gentility made me feel her real presence. Back in the farmyard is two oxen, made ready for the day’s work. I was pretty sure that today would be a hard day ahead.
It is in my school. The assembly has had commenced. It is the last day of my schooling. Madam Pema C. Wangi was giving some useful hard advices. Lopen Chador was standing as rigid as a log. Madam Sita with her stern cynical looks was nearing the late commerce group. Far away is the Dampa house captain with Sir Harri Manna. After giving the hopeful advices, Madam ordered to move to home, Yet not before the moment Dampa house Captain Yeshey Nidup announced that everybody should return to schoolon March 17 to celebrate international Christian Day with Sir Harri Manna.
Woke up to a depressing morning it was 3 am, had a doubt, is March 17 International Christian Day? No I don’t think so. Opened up the Google search engine and typed “International Christian Day March 17?” The result was that March 17 is being celebrated by Christian society as St. Patrick’s Day. Ridiculous! It is being celebrated mainly in the region of Ireland. No big Deal.
Trying to uncover my sleep again I pulled my blanket over my head and tried to journey my inner subconscious inception. I am going outside to start of the day’s work. My mother greeted me from windows up above. I just told her to keep my bangchang ready and don’t worry about the field. In the field, I needed a partner. My trumpet (LIIM) was ready hung by my side. I whistled for Ajang Jimba and he came along. We were ready to kick off the day’s work. The work began with a blow of whistle. My mother is cooking inside. Tired with the work, we stopped for the lunch. My father, a well known man in the village was carrying a bottle of brewed ara. He came to us and asks Aajang Jimba, “How is my son?” Ajang Jimba in his humorous nature always wouldn’t give the right answer.
Honor, pride, respect! I was thinking within the dream. And when we were done with our ara we headed home for lunch. My mother in her cheerful way greeted us. And addressing her son’s specialty “Zaii my Dasho Tshewang, pretty sure you have had a tough time”. I just smiled and walk away. My mother was serving the lunch and everybody was enjoying their lunch. The moment I was about to take my first gulp in, I saw tears in her eyes. “Ama?” I asked. She was looking straight at me and her tears never seemed to end. Without a reply she was looking straight into my eyes and sobbing; others were oblivious to what is happening. They simply enjoyed their food. I was feeling different. I shouted “AMMA”.
With feelings still adorned. I was lying in my blanket. I sobbed. It reminded me of my late mother. And perhaps then I realized when I am ready to be the man she wanted me to be, she isn’t around me to say “I am proud of you, my son”. Yet deep inside I miss your presence terribly. I just want to feel the mothers love like all my friends do, so that I can show them I have a mother too. But as you left me, I clung unto hope, because mother, everybody around me lives and I should do the same.