Page 69 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

8 THE JOURNEY TO MY WORKPLACE

The office order said I must join Samdrup Jongkhar Junior High School. And I was supposed to receive the
confirmation order before school reopened. I didn’t. So, I phoned the Dzongkhag Education officer of Samdrup
Jongkhar. The Office Assistant said I was placed at Nganglam Junior High School.
“Nganglam Junior High School?” I said with my mouth wide open. “How could they change my placement?”
I don’t know, sir,” he said. “Why don’t you ask the ministry?”
“Oops.”
I bit my nails, wondering why the ministry had to send me there. People said Nganglam was at the frontline,
eighty miles west from Samdrup Jongkhar.
Two weeks before school reopened, I went to Mongar to get my luggage from Baggio’s place. Early the next
morning, Baggio’s father helped me to haul my luggage to the bus terminal. About ten juveniles were on the same
bus, heading to SJ.
“Where’re you headed, boys?” I asked.
“Phuentsholing,” replied Boto, the eldest lad in the group.
“It’s school time. Why’re you going there?”
“Shopping.”
“You got permission from your parents?”
He shook his head, grinning.
“You should have told them, boys. They are gonna be worried about you.”
“Our friends would.”
“Oh, really?”
As long as they were having fun with me, I cared not much about their clandestine tour. We arrived at SJ at 8:30
pm. We hurried into the town. All the hotels were closed. A curfew was instituted and people said anyone caught
outside after 9:00 pm was likely to be shot on sight.
“Hurry, back to the prayer wheel, boys,” I said.
Hungry and cold, we spread our bedding on the cement at a prayer wheel beside the bridge. A policeman on
patrol flashed his torchlight at our faces.
“Who is there?” he thundered.
“Sorry, we are sleeping here,” I asked, raising my hand. “Hotels are all closed.”
He came closer and peered at us. “A bomb exploded here a week ago—be warned. Where you’d you come
from?”
“Mongar.”
“And headed where?”
“Phuentsholing,” said the boys, shifting closer to me.
“And you?” said the police, flashing his torchlight on my face. “What do you do?”
“Teacher,” I said, squinting away from his torchlight. “Recently passed out.”
“Oh, sorry, sir.” He put off the torchlight. “You may sleep on the turret if you like. I have extra blankets.”
“Thank you,” I said, “I am comfortable with the boys.”
He left.

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