Page 28 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

Bolu pushed him into Jiku’s room and latched the door from outside. “Ah! My fingers hurt.”
“I am sorry, Ata,” I said, panting. “He started it.”
“Ssh!” he said. “Go get to your room now. Don’t open the door if he comes again, okay?”
I nodded.
Silence prevailed for the rest of the night. The next day, Jigwang was with his friends on the way to school. He
gawked at me as if he would lunge anytime, but he didn’t. We glared at each other and parted our ways.
After he left, I held my chest and sighed. “Phew, that was close.”
The next night, Jiku and Jigwang brought another guy. I heard Baggio’s voice.
“Why is Baggio here?” I said to myself in my bed. “To abet Jigwang and Jiku?”
They didn’t bawl. They talked and went to sleep.
Baggio was a bow-legged guy with speed. His curly hair gave him the look of an Italian football player, Roberto
Baggio. Considering his personality, folks should have nicknamed him Baggio instead of College. I preferred to call
him Baggio. Baggio was a bit conceited but generous.
Jigwang and Baggio flunked in eighth grade. So, we became classmates. We also played football in the school
team. Jigwang played on defense. He was the fastest player in our team, and maybe, the fastest in all the high schools
in Bhutan.
Our friendship became stronger with each passing day. One evening, way back home from school, Baggio
slipped his arms around my shoulder and grinned.
“Glad we didn’t fight that night,” he said. “Guess what, I had brought a baton to clout you.”
Stunned and hurt, I grinned. “Oh, you did?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, I had to.”
Jigwang winked at Baggio. “Forget it, guys,” he said.
It was past and there was no reason I should heed to it. “Yeah, let’s not dig the past,” I said.
After the mid-year exams, Coach told us to get ready for our journey to Thimphu. Back then, inter-high football
tournaments were held at Thimphu in Summer.
On the first day of the summer vacation, we clambered onto the police DCM truck. The body was covered with
a canvas cover and it was dark.
Coach peeped in and said, “Boys, spread our beddings and make yourself comfortable. The journey is long.”
“Okay, Coach,” we said in unison.
The truck moved, and we sang our first song:

“Yethro Lhamo….
Nyi Yethro Lham.
Chhoe gayi gayi go dhi gi
Nyi lo gi len lab ma tub
Gaan gawai loju enru lab
Nga la nyen sem threl ma chu.”

We sang louder as we moved through the town. People waved at us and we waved back to them. We crossed a
bridge and arrived at a small town where houses were built of shingles. Smoke billowed from the chimneys of a
small restaurant below the road.
The driver pulled over and rolled up the canvas cover. “Nature’s call, boys!”
“Where are we?” I said, looking around. When friends surveyed me from head to toe, I scratched my neck.
“How am I supposed to know this place?”
Only at that place was the sound of suppressed laughter from my friends before I trimmed them short with a
severe glare. I jumped to the ground and traversed over to the other side of the road and barfed.
The driver honked. “Boys, get on the truck!”
As the truck moved, Jambay—the most hilarious guy—sang:

“Sho sho Tsheringla Jamo sho sho
Lhapchu na tong tha tong
Lhamo brang tong zadpa
Tsheringla Jamo sho sho.”

Everybody burst out laughing. I chuckled as the emotion ran down in my heart. The song trailed off as the truck
rumbled up the snaky road. Soon we entered the wilderness and rumbled up the mountains. I felt the dizziness and

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