Page 11 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“Boohoo!” I stomped back home and wailed louder when grandma rushed toward me. “Kota throttled me!
Boohoo!”
“What?” she blurted.” I will talk to his parents.”
A week later, Dad came home. He seemed perturbed, and he dusted my shoulder. “Why would he do that to
you?”
“He almost killed me, dad,” I said. “What brings you here?”
“Granny told me everything.” He scowled around. “Who is Kota?”
“A friend of mine.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Forget it, dad.”
He ran his hand through my tousled hair. “How is your throat doing?”
“Feeling much better now.”
“You will go with me to Mongar.”
Clasping hands together, I grinned. “Really?”
“Yes, we will go tomorrow.”
“Yippee!”
There, he took me to Mongar Primary School. I gasped, seeing the three-storied towering Bhutanese
architectural structure. Wooden windows and chipped-stone walls stood high above the ground. The façade
towards the gate bore a huge signboard with the inscription: KARMA, 1966. Wooden desks and benches
furnished the classroom. Yet it was far better than my village school.
With the passage of time, Dad and I lost two of our family members, over a span of just forty-nine days. From
that moment on, we mourned Mom and my brother, Tashi Wangchuk. Even after two years, Dad mourned
them. Alone and sad, he stayed indoors most days. But for me, I sauntered all day and returned at the fall of
the dusk. Father and son rarely sat together for the meals. When we did, we talked less.
One fine day, Dad and I were sitting beside the window of that dimly-lit room, facing each other. It was the
first time we had the father-son talk, happy and stress-free. He sipped black tea from the dinted aluminium
mug he had preserved from the time he was an army. So, the surge of knowing about my birth rushed into my
mind.
“Would you tell me where I was born, dad?” I asked.
“You were born in the Yonphula army camp in 1977. You were an atypical baby. That you didn’t sleep a lot
and cried all day.”
“I did, dad?” I replied.
He nodded. “Your mom and I would tend to you every night. Even the crowing of crows would jerk us. We
would rush to check on you.”
Eyes popping out, I chuckled. “What a jerk I must have been, then.”
He grinned, sipping on his tea. “Glad that you’re helping grandparents back home. So, go on with it.”
“I would.”
“And remember you’re just an ordinary boy, not from the upper echelon of society.”
I scratched my head. “I can see that, dad.”
“Do not engage in fights. Stay away from unruly friends and situations. And, do not steal.”
“I know that too, dad.”
Well, that was the only valuable piece of advice I got from him in my life. Other days, he brooded over
passing Mom and younger brother. Even if we had time, he wouldn’t talk much. He would sneak away when I
walked in.
Later, he remarried. The most amazing thing was stepmom was my mom’s half-sister from the other village.
Dad settled with her until his last day.

11