Ngawang Phuntsho

Back when I was a student in a remote school in Bhutan, English textbooks were not always easy to understand. English was a foreign language to us, and our comprehension was limited. A difficult poem remained difficult, while a complicated story sometimes became even more complicated after we had read it. Then, sometime during junior high school, I came across Ramji Lall. More precisely, I came across his guidebooks, and they came as a relief. Difficult plots were explained in simple language. Poems had summaries, characters had descriptions, and themes were laid out clearly. Suddenly, some of those difficult texts began to make sense. What surprised me was that Ramji Lall seemed to have a guide for everything. Poetry, short stories, dramas, novels and even some of the English texts we studied. If a literary work was prescribed in school, there was a good chance Ramji Lall had already written something about it. I sometimes wondered how one man managed to read so much, let alone write ...

Most people who have visited Bhutan before often tell me that the country felt different from anywhere else, they had travelled in Asia, and they usually cannot explain why until they have been here a few days.  The pace is different. So are the customs. And honestly, very little here works quite the way you expect it to. If this is your first trip, here is what I would tell you over tea before you go. 1. Sustainable Development Fee (SDF) Most visitors pay an SDF for every night they spend in the country. The rate depends on your nationality and age, and it changes from time to time, so check the current figure before you book anything. This fee sits completely apart from your hotel bill, your meals, your driver. Nothing you do will lower it. 2. Travel with a guide This surprises people who are used to wandering off on their own. In Bhutan, most travellers move around with a certified local guide, who handles transport, sightseeing, entry into monasteries and the small cu...

Some memories refuse to fade.  Three of us had been assigned a task. While the teacher was giving instructions to other students, we began walking towards the place where we had been told to go. He suddenly called us back. We had no idea what we had done wrong. My friend went first. The teacher took a bamboo stick and struck his open palm three times. Hard. Then came my turn. I stretched out my hand, expecting the same punishment. Instead, the teacher struck me on the head, again and again, until the bamboo stick broke. By then, blood was dripping from my head. I remember forcing myself not to cry because younger students were watching, and at that age I somehow believed crying in front of them would make the humiliation worse. The physical pain eventually disappeared, but the memory lived on. Decades have passed, yet when I think about the incident, I still remember the shock, anger and helplessness. What troubles me now is perhaps greater than what I understood then. An adult ent...