Tshewang's Journal

Arriving in Tsirang during the late weeks of July, I was unprepared for the chill that would later envelop the region. The initial humidity, accompanied by relentless sunshine, evoked vivid memories of my study days in Dhaka—days marked by sweltering heat interspersed with sudden rain showers. Yet, Tsirang, with its summer blooms and verdant grasslands reminiscent of the Swiss Alps, presented a striking contrast to the urban clamor of Dhaka. This place, steeped in beauty and communal warmth, offered a new chapter vastly different from my past experiences. Winter in Tsirang unveiled a different facet of life here. My colleagues, with their penchant for humor that treads the line between audacious and risqué, often find laughter in the least expected places. Despite their seemingly irreverent jokes, the camaraderie we share is a treasure, breathing life and laughter into even the coldest days. The routine of my mornings has evolved into a ritual of simplicity and reflection. Sunlight fil...

When she whispered "Yes," he soared to cloud nine, overflowing with gratitude. "Thank you so much," he said, his heart brimming with joy. This pivotal moment rekindled memories of their college days, where time seemed endless and every message carried layers of meaning beyond the words on the screen. To him, she was the embodiment of his prayers, the muse behind his ambitions. She playfully predicted his future as a Prime Minister, to which he would jest that such aspirations were meaningless without her by his side. For her, he was the first man to whom she'd ever given her heart. He stood out, challenging her worldview and inspiring her to envisage a future filled with love, a concept she had once deemed unattainable. Her dreams of a solitary, ascetic life faded as their bond deepened, his wit and reassurances weaving a new tapestry of possibilities for her life. He, tempered by adversity, bore the scars of his tumultuous past. Each mark was a testament to his...

It's been nearly a month since I embarked on a new chapter in Tsirang, a place I've anticipated moving to since the start of the year. Despite initial reservations, the reality of Tsirang has lived up to the picturesque descriptions shared by those who've called it home before me. The convenience of having everything within close proximity – from my workplace at Damphu General Hospital, just a ten-minute walk away, to essential services like the General Post Office, Bhutan Telecom, and the Bank of Bhutan, all nestled near each other – adds to the allure of this place. Perched above these amenities is the Dzong, housing all sector heads, with the market a short stroll further down. Located a five-hour drive from Thimphu, Tsirang didn't make a strong first impression. The solitude of a large house to myself felt overwhelming. The company of my dog, Eta, provided some comfort during those initial quiet days. However, as I've settled into my role, Tsirang has gradually ...

Dhaka is a city that pulsates with relentless activity. It's not merely busy—it's a tempest of motion, where the ceaseless cavalcade of vehicles creates a tableau of urban struggle. The city's streets, ensnared in perpetual congestion, transform what should be a brief journey of fifteen minutes into an odyssey stretching over hours. This congestion is not just a matter of inconvenience; it's a vivid illustration of the city's grappling with its own growth and infrastructure challenges. The public transport system, stretched beyond its capacity, fails to provide a reliable solution for its inhabitants. Coupled with a scarcity of stringent traffic regulations and the uncontrolled flood of imported used vehicles, the city's roads are more than just crowded—they are a vivid display of the complexities of urban development gone awry. Caught in this daily turmoil, I write these lines. Stranded for hours in the snarls of traffic, the frustration and idle time bred insp...

Written in tribute to His Majesty the 4th Dragon King of Bhutan as a part of 60th Birth Anniversary celebration; an initiative of Royal Bhutanese Embassy, Dhaka; Bangladesh.   In the mystic Kingdom, of land blessed with the prayers of those long gone! The last Shangrila- The land of Medicinal Cypress Lays a tale that’ll resonate for eons from now, The legend spans, in the life that is yet to be foretold, Long before the coming, the prophecy revealed! By the greatest saint of then, Terton Drukdra Dorji In his prose he read “Oh! The jewel land! From the mom bearing a central tooth as white as the priceless conch Will bear a son that is as white, in his heart and out alike Shall bring eternal peace and prosperity to the Kingdom As said, the boy was born, unknown to what his fate may bring. Remarkable birth signs: heavens poured, the rainbows shone And in its equanimity- the birds chirped in natural uniformity His younger days had shown; of being a...

Dechen's hair swayed gently as the bus hummed along. Golden fringes highlighted her sparkling eyes, and a lone dimple graced her cheeks. The chill of the air brushed her crimson lips, adding a shiver to her already cold frame. Beside her, a man's occasional glances broke the monotony of the journey, stirring a mix of curiosity and discomfort within her. Lost in thought, Dechen pondered the sun's boundless energy, the birds' cheerful melodies, and the mysteries of the cosmos. Her contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a young girl's cry, sparking a cascade of thoughts about the cause of her distress. The momentary distraction of two men roaring past on a tractor, their shouts piercing the tranquility, snapped her back to reality. A sharp cry of pain jolted Dechen from her reverie. The safety pin from her muffler had come undone, pricking the man next to her. Apologizing profusely, she felt a wave of dizziness from the bus's relentless bumps. The m...