Archives for April 2015

Nepal Earthquake: Natural catastrophe, manmade casualties

The world watched in disbelief and grief as news channels, twitter feeds and Facebook flooded with the updates on rising number of deaths and the pictures of the city of Kathmandu, Nepal brought down to rubble by 7.9 Magnitude Earthquake. The Entire nation is in shock and trauma. My heart sank more as more and more deaths were announced.
What frustrates me the most is the that most of the buildings that collapsed were the ones that were either too old or poorly built. A study by Geohazard International found that two-thirds of the structures built in the area did not meet seismic code standards. Hence, the loss of life is likely going to be tied to weak building standards, poor seismic regulations and overly crowded populations. Statistically speaking, at least half of the deaths could have been avoided, had those things been considered considering how Earthquake prone the area was. Stronger buildings would not have collapsed or at least given enough time for the residents to run to safety. And this becomes clearer when we compare the buildings that collapsed and that did not.

Companies that sucked:

  1. Google Search had only those Western News companies on the top ranks who were just posting stolen images from twitter feeds of some Nepalese guy. Fresh and authentic news, right from the mouth of the Nepalese was hard and tricky to find.
  2. Facebook “safe” button was available only towards the evening, at least in Bhutan.
  3. And what was BBS doing? I don’t know, ask them.
  4. NDTV was busy looping few videos over and over again while flashing in as much ad as possible. Their death statics were all wrong. Someone could have at least referred to Twitter or called Nepal;
  5. BSNL charged local rates.

No amount of condolence will ever be enough to console the victims of Nepal Earthquake. May the Lord shower his grace abundantly. Always in our prayer.
And here I am sitting on a chair and commenting like a hypocrite. I wish I could be there, share their pain, lend a helping hand for the fallen and a shoulder to cry upon for the grieved.

 

 

Bhutanese public toilet, also known as bush

How many times did you enter a public toilet and find it overflowing with shit, filled with sticks or swarmed with flies? Always. How many public toilets do we have in Bhutan? Very few. What then? We have to run to the mercy of nature to relief ourselves, risking bear attacks or bee stings.
Why not use hotel/restaurant toilets? Have you seen the look on their faces when you order nothing and just use their toilet?

We are seriously too proud of our natural heritage that if anyone asked for a toilet, an obvious answer would be, “dude we have 72.5% of forest, what do you need a toilet for?”
Being raised in a very religious society, with altruistic moral upbringing, we believe in giving back to nature, yeah a huge turd in the shape of a torma, that’s what you give back to the environment. A perfect barter for the life-giving oxygen and free natural resources.

Thimphu City has only two toilets; one which is near RICB building -a residence cum public toilet and another at bus booking.
Which means, if you have diarrhea, you’ll have to decide firstly which toilet is the nearest and secondly, storm towards the toilet 100 meter dash; with a leaky butt while chanting Om Mani Padme Hung so that the gods or whatever deity responsible will somehow miraculously be involved in preventing you from shitting your pants.

We do have graffiti art culture in Bhutan, except, most of our highly talented artists use semen stained toilet walls to convey their message to the masses. Drawings of oddly shaped genitals, obese couple having sex or depressing quotes like “Chimi is a Randi, call her in this number…” 

The Buddha point, a beautiful tourist location once, but with all the after-party fishy activities that has been happening lately, the place could be rechristened adultery Hill, and is filled with tampons, used balloons, and shit.

Sarpang Bazaar, mini Bihar of Bhutan is the infamous place to shit. The moment you enter the slum, you get the stench of rotting feces. Fresh shit, rotting shit, diarrhea; Sarshop shit, Bengali shit, Bihari shit, Lotshampa shit, tourist shit, poor men’s shit, rich men’s shit, name it, smell it. No discrimination -gender, ethnic, whatsoever. As you go behind the town, provided you possess enough courage, and are trained enough in anulom-vilom by Baba Ramdev to control your breath for the entire duration, you’ll be welcomed with an endless display of sel-rotis.

Pelela, Dochula and Yonphula are some good places to shit. With cold, fresh unpolluted air hitting against your butt, a scenic landscape, yes, happiness is a place. To add to the fun, you can perhaps smoke a joint or sip in liquor. If you have constipation, you can hold one to the twigs as you tear your rectum to force out hardened excrement.

But we can use the lack of toilets to our advantage. We can play the revenge game. Do you hate the ruling party? Shit around the Minister’s colony. Are you pissed with the municipal? Shit behind their office. Traffic police’re bothering you? Shit behind RSTA office. Your landlord’s a douche bag? Shit in front of his door.
In fact, if you take a taxi to Lhuentse from Phuentsholing, you could shit all across the length of the country from Chukha to Thimphu to Wangduephodrang to Trongsa to Bumthang to Trashigang to Trashi Yangtse to Mongar. All you need to do is order a plate of puri from Jaigoan and you’re all set to manure the whole country with your eco-friendly shit revenge.

List of places that need toilets:
1. Hospital
2. Police Check Point
3. Towns
4. Schools
5. Banks
6. Your village
7. Your home

And that, dear Bhutanese, is how you bond with Nature.

Night hunting, a tradition of rape?

Ask what is the full form of BHUTAN to an Eastern boy, he’d instantly reply Boys-Hunting-Use-Torch-At-Night. We all enjoy the good night hunting Jokes, especially the guy that said: “meaw I am a cat.” But know this, morons, that concealed within the funny tales of night hunting are the victims of rape, teenage pregnancy, bastards, single mothers, a lifelong trauma and a destroyed dreams. Laugh on now, Jerks. You’re all going to hell for that.

Let me begin with a song, a popular song in Kurtoed and Tsakaling. Key lu ma ta tshig lu taa. Ahem! Ahem!

Nyachun tshelwa laa songnaa,
Aii gandmu dang oo laa phratoh,
Faarey loddey tangnaa,
Churey pektey hongdo.
**Please sing along in the tunes of Tshangmo.**

Which when roughly translated into English reads:
While I was going night hunting, I met this old hag.
I’d try pushing her away, But she’d come sticking to me. 

I studied in the East, in a hostel, where I was called names like Jagar, Ngera and Kancha for being a Southern Bhutanese. I was also teased for using water to wash my ass. Upon research, I found out that sticks, dry leaves and stones were much-accepted mores of ass wiping in the East. It is here that I learned a great deal about the great night prowlers of the East-The horny Dark Knight.

Let me tell you a heart touching story of a girl who lost her virginity new Jai-Bangla sweatpants. Early in the morning, I heard some noise outside our hostel. I went out to find out, and it was a fight between a girl and a boy who allegedly deflowered her the night before in her sleep. Apparently, the boy used scissors to cut a hole in her sweatpants, and she was demanding compensation for her pants. She had “no, rape is fine. But I want my sweatpants back” kind of attitude. It had me thinking to this day. Was night hunting a socially accepted norm? Did she even realize that she was raped?

Contrary to the story above, many women have become a silent victim to such practices, often keeping it a secret for the fear of the society.  I don’t think such practices are even to be called a tradition, let alone condoned or laughed at for that matter.

I know of a case where a man whose daughter was pregnant, rumored to be a victim to night hunting, dragged her by her hair, hit her, saying words like “I will stitch your vagina, you whore!” And that is when it struck me, that as a society, we have carefully cultivated the art of not Giving a rat’s ass. It is a constant state of Nirvana – nothing bothers you because nothing matters to you as you have turned into a class-A jerk. We’re much comfortable peeking from behind the curtains to the scene of a man beating his wife. While chanting Om Mani Padme Hung of course. Why not? After all, she is his property, he can violate her in whatever manner it pleases him. Because screw feminism, our society believes in patriarchy, and we uphold sexism. Bravo! Bravo!

But, all said and done, I kind of feel bad for the guys. You see, the only form of entertainment they had back then were playing cockfight, occasional wrestling, and masturbation. And one guy, at the height of boredom, must have thought while shitting beside the river bank, “you know what? Bomena! Bomena!” A Bhutanese Archimedes, who apparently discovered a brilliant way to deploy his genital.

It is not just the villagers, the urban folks, the civil servants, the so called educated folks of town are also equally tempted. Lure her with all your deceptive tales of success (nobody needs to know that you live as a paying guest in some attic apartment). Use her. And then leave without any trace. All under the banner of tradition you can safely thrust your penis into an unwilling vagina and just leave, waving a huge middle finger to the things like law, education, empathy, and humanity in the process.

Now, having said, some night hunting are on a mutual understanding; but for the fact that Bhutan is covered with 72% of forest, they could just hide behind the bush and do it like most of the decent folks in Thimphu do around Buddha point. Learn some manners from the Capital City, Bhutanese, learn. Why take all the risk? Why fear the ambush when you can use the bush?

Dear ladies, are you feeling unsafe? Are you a rape victim? Oh dear, you have a bad bad kharam. You must hang a wooden phallus around your neck and doorposts. A real penis might bring dishonor to you, but a wooden one will surely bring you blessings. Worship the great phallus. Trust me, apa-ama-promise, even Lam Drukpa Kuenley subdued the witches with his Gigantic Johnson.

All this so called ‘feminists’ does under the banner of Feminism is raised stupid questions like Why are women not allowed inside the Gyenkhangs? Why aren’t there many women politicians? I don’t know, do you have cow dung in your head? Why do you even care? Why not raise things like this instead, if you care about women empowerment?

Thanks to NGOs like RENEW, who are putting in lots of effort in Educating people and raising awareness.

Go ahead, give it a fancy name, call it Night Hunting or call it Bomena but rape is always a rape no matter under what disguise you might commit it.

There is no particular Law under Bhutanese Penal code that protects women against such practices. Night hunting is still practiced widely. Only the victims know what it feels like

If you care, please share.