Page 29 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

everything reeled before my eyes. So, I stood and peeped ahead through the opening of the canvas. The chilly wind
beat across my face, but it was much better than the motion sickness.
The boughs had overlapped and formed a narrow dark passage for vehicles. That worsened my sickness.
Outside, it drizzled, and a thick mist blanketed the road.
“Goodness me, how long must we travel?” I grimaced in agony. “Where on earth is Thimphu?” The cold
numbed my face and fingers. “God, take away my sickness, please.”
The truck bumped over potholes and uneven surfaces. I gripped my stomach and heaved. It didn’t subside, so I
staggered back to my bedding and curled up.
Hours later, the roofs of the clustered houses glimmer against the sun rays in the distance. And sheep grazed
below the road.
“Which place is that?” I said, pointing at the shimmering roofs.
“It’s Sengor,” said Lhapchu. “You haven’t traveled this way before?”
I shook my head. “It’s my first time.”
The driver pulled over beside a restaurant and rolled up the canvas. “Boys, lunch.”
We plodded after Coach. After lunch, I came out and sat on the milestone. I visualized Dad staring out of the
window in our dingy room in loneliness. “God, keep my dad safe.”
The driver honked, and we clambered onto the back of the truck. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the
pillow.
“Thrumshingla!” shouted the driver. “Lha Gyelo!”
Everybody sat up and peeped through the orifice in the canvas cover. “Lha Gyelo!”
A cairn stood above the road. Twigs and branches were pitched around to mark the sanctimonious pass.
Someone began:

“La Thrumshingla la gi jab kha lu
Bum choe dhoeyi nga ma shey
Bum choe dhoeyi nga ma sey.”

I stared far across the mountains. Mesmerizing peaks glinted with snow. Tall trees above the peaks added
resplendence to the faraway mountain ranges. The song and the spectacular scene melted my heart.

“La Yontongla gi jab kha lu
Bu nga dhoe yi mashey ga
Bu nga dheo yi mashey ga.”

I remembered my dad again. I had not moved from him that far before. Wiping tears off my cold cheeks, I
joined them:

“Lay melam thro dhi yoed ba chin
Lha Pelela lu zom gai may
Lha Pelela lu zom gai may.”

Hours later, a few girls were harvesting buckwheat at the roadsides. The white headscarves and the intricate
yathra (woolen) jacket gave them the look of a model on a YEEWONG cover.

“Bom...Bom….
Chowa mindhu mey
Bu nga yang gawai nim chi sharni yoe
Ho…ho, burga yang gawai nim chi sharni yoe.”

As we clapped and sang louder, they waved at us.

“Waiiiiii…Toyota gari lek rung rang
Numkhor tang ni melek bay
Taxi rokho en rung rang
Numkhor tang ni sem lek bay.”

Lhabchu, continued:

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