Page 100 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

12 TRANSFER TO A CITY SCHOOL

Squatting at the edge of the ground, I stared at the distant horizon, missing my family. As the breeze swayed tree
branches, I rubbed my arms in comfort. “Wish I had wings.”
Loneliness dragged me into a meaningless existence. What seemed like an auditory hallucination, sometimes I
heard my daughter laugh. Time passed at a sluggish pace, stretching into a miserable night. More than that, the
trepidation of my baby’s relapse drowned me in despair. No news, no calls, and nothing. “God, keep my baby safe,
please.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” said Mr. Pema Rinchen. “Your baby would be fine.”
“I hope so,” I said, gazing at the birds circling over the horizon in the west. “It worries me a lot.”
“For sure, he will be fine. You should take care of your health. You looked scrawny now.”
“I am fine. I wish I could visit them.”
I played football, archery, and volleyball and everything that came across my way. Nothing stopped my mind
from the preoccupation of my family.
“I should phone my wife,” I said, one afternoon.
“Today, sir?” said Mr. Pema Rinchen.
“Yeah, today. Let’s go to Nganglam.”
He sulked, looking up at the dark sky. “But it’s already afternoon, and it’s gonna rain.”
“What harm would it make?” I said. “We always travel in the rain, don’t we?”
“Fine,” he said with little charm in his face. “Let’s get going.”
Thunder roared, and the dark clouds hung above us. The downpour lashed us and leeches stuck onto our legs.
The streams swell, but nothing deterred my grit to go to Nganglam.
Hours later, the rain stopped and the sun seared my skin. Atop a hill above Nganglam town, I switched my
Motorola RAZR-V3s on. One bar appeared, but the phone got switched-off after repeated dialing. “Oops.”
“You should phone her from Nganglam, sir,” said Mr. Pema Rinchen.
“Battery is dead. I must charge this darn phone.”
At Nganglam, Tshering Zangmo gaped at us. “Where are you headed?”
“Wanted to make a call to Choki,” I said.
“I phoned her a few days back.”
“How are they doing?” I asked, taking out my phone from the backpack.
“She said the baby was fine.”
“Oh, really? Where can I charge my phone?”
She showed me the charging point. When three bars appeared, I phoned Choki for like one hour. Her voice
sounded tender and miserable, and there wasn’t a reason words wouldn’t choke me. As our talk ended, I sniffled.
The next morning, I phone her again. “I am going back to Kerong. Is there anything you want to say?”
“Um, no. Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks. I will phone you next week.”
“You need not come every weekend. It’s risky.”
“Okay. Take care of the baby. Pass it to Tsheulthrim, please.”
“Yes, Apa?” she said.
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