Partial View of the day at WLSS Play Ground – 18th Feb, 2009 –

A descriptive essay.

Its clear screen of the sky and gentle breeze makes the sound that no other music
can really substitute. And it was a kind of day that I have always looked forward
to. I see throngs and hear clamour of pupils marching and yet some basking in the
sun to warm themselves up in a blistering February winter cold at Wangdue
Chhoeling LSS play ground.

The drummer sounding the drum makes the day rather too enriching and elevating.
A little but few makes an effort of swinging their arms reluctantly as if in a great
ordeal of sufferings when these enthusiastic pupils could dance a waltz for days.

Mr. Choki Ugyen, the walk the beat leader screaming at the top of his lungs looks
as if like a man leading a great parade. But it’s so depressing to see that he’s right
behind the marchers trying out loud at the best of his abilities. And every one who
had witnessed it would have rated him cent 100% for the job well done, and that’s
for sure.

Mr. Tambourine man – Phuntsho Wangdi, with a stick in his hand, directs the
marchers, looking very demanding and commanding. Yet, not a single one seems to
follow the directions he is giving. But the wrath in his eyes makes the marchers
hustle and bustle, and in no time, amongst the marchers, the obedience in
maintained.

The coordinators coordinating it had a very formidable and Herculean task in the
blistering cold weather, and given a chance any person could have retired and gone
astray like an outcast into thin air with the work they were given. But as I watched
the dedicated coordinators in a chilly weather I would want to salute and
acknowledge them for their service well input and their endurances.

The heat of the winter sun getting warmer and beside me there was a few lady
teachers gossiping, clearing their throats and engrossed in their every day talk
activity. The voice I could only heed amongst them was that of Md. Kuenzang
Peldon – a very fine and a kind hearted figure, and a best of best pal of my dearie
wife. And not to mention, my dear wife was also there toting- up.
As I gazed on for sometimes, I see Mr. Sangay Tempa – a modest and a man of few
words started to fumble in his gho’s pocket for his mobile and started and
continued giving miss calls to Md. Kuenzang Peldon knowing not what to do. And
later when she finds out that it was he; calls him back in his cell but the irony was
that Mr. Tempa Keeps his cell in mute trying to be pretentious about the pranks as
if nothing has happened – it made me laugh into my ‘hemchu’ and I grinned away
bashfully without him noticing it. Meanwhile, Lopon Ngawang Kinchup – a man who
consumes betel nuts regularly as a necessity looks away and gives me a gentle and a
meek smile bothering least about the happenings around, starts chewing his betel
nuts as usual.

But having some works to be done I bade farewell to my colleagues, left the
panorama and rushed to the staffroom.

It was quarter to 12 noon when I got there and it was time for us to leave for
home. I called my wife, closed my diary, and walked away thinking aloud of my
colleagues in the ground, smiling…

Pema Wangda.
WLSS; Bumthang.
 Trash!

Fragrance spreading – wild,

Anew; all in all,
Wondrous greenery,
Stretching wide and beyond.

Oh! How wonderful – they say,

Makes me proud and pleased
Think and I’d refrain:
“Green still is the land – the dwelling place.”

Blissful ambience once,

Now forgotten entirely –
Trash, trash and
Only trash!

To lament, it’s gone;

Too late, I say,
Make a path to clear,
Beseech you – think twice, and please…

“Forget” – the universal truth,

They say always;
Things gone, by-gone deeds
Never coming back.

Around all trash,

Has become – says I,
Cynosure of one’s eyes,
Tormenting the most.

Woe-be-gone are the people,

No one left to blame,
Let’s embark, not grieve,
And nothing more!

Pema Wangda.