The Other Side Of Bhutanese

Bhutanese will be the only people in the world who criticize their own race (?). Often do we say what we don’t like about Bhutanese, at the same time, we say we are proud to be Bhutanese. Ironic! We say, “Bhutanese don’t know the value of  blah blah blah. Bhutanese don’t  care about blah blah blah. Bhutanese... Bhutanese”. And sadly, it’s a fact. I don’t know how many Bhutanese realize that they are Bhutanese at the end.

“Two men looked out the prison. One saw the mud, other saw the stars”

Most of the time, I see stars in everything. That’s why I criticize seldom. I always wanted to express the good nature of Bhutanese despite listening to everything that others say about Bhutanese.

[By the way, I’ll be talking about pure Bhutanese. Not Westernised Bhutanese]

My home is your home too! I don’t remember the number of unknown people who came to my house whom my Mom served like her own child. Bhutanese have a habit of inviting people we meet to our own house and we make them feel like it’s their own house. We give them life!

Bhutanese can talk to strangers! Adults always say that talking to strangers bring curse on us. Oh! Till now, the more strangers did I talk, the more luck they brought to me! And more strangers meant more friends, more friends meant more happiness! Who on this earth would have thought strangers could bring happiness to us?

 If you are a Bhutanese, you are my sibling. Bhutanese has more preference to calling Acho, Ashim, Nuchu, Num and they smile when they hear themselves being called these name. I can’t imagine the joy in my heart when little ones call me Acho and elder ones call me Nuchu.

Our friend means more than our siblings! Whenever we go to other places, especially urban places, we always think about what we can take to our friends. And even as being someone’s friend, we expect something from them wherever they go!

Sharing is loving. Charity begins at home. My parents taught me to share with others whatever new-food we have to eat. I’m so tired timely running here and there taking my mom’s share to her friends, though it may be a little bit, though it may be a fancy one.

We feel the same prick when someone passes away. Being an easterner, this actually happens more in east. If someone permanently breathes the last, we feel the same pinch. And we attend their funeral even though they are apparently our strangers.

“It was a mourning period. It is amazing how the Trashigangpas came together during such moments of life, living the profound moments in picture perfect ways. Every neighbour walked around as if it was their son they had lost and not just my brother.”
 – Mrs. Chador Wangmo, La Ama ...a mother’s call

[Mrs. Chador could explain the best about easterners]

There are uncountable numbers of good things that Bhutanese possess. But I have just written briefly to let the readers feel lucky being born in this heaven-on-earth Bhutan. 


About The Author

I'm Lungten Wangchuk. Presently a student of Twelve in Zhemgang Central School. And I won't mind someone trying to correct the mistakes I make on my blog.

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