I like the way our women said Jadha to ada-rachu

When the rest of the world is concerned about women not wearing anything at all, we find ourselves in the midst of a debate dictating what women should wear. While we are clearly ignoring bigger and much immediate issue at hand, for instance, should monks be required to wear red underwears or should they be allowed to wear their usual leopard-print thongs? Now, this is something we all should be talking about, isn’t it?

But no, we have a long history of recurring stupidity especially with bureaucrats dictating something ridicules, realizing it was foolish and rescinding it later like nothing happened. To name few, the pedestrian day, the tobacco ban, and Zhemgang Dzongkhag’s buffoonish decision of making everyone wear gho. Which is ridiculous because most villagers in Zhemgang wear gho all day long and use ghos and kiras as a blanket at night. (Even they were apparently pissed off about the rule.)

All in the name of culture, you want to make our women throw away their colourful rachus when it has been in use as long as anyone remembers? Which in a way makes it a tradition in itself. Speaking of tradition, our forefathers didn’t wear underwears, they trudged the harsh Himalayas bare-ass and barefoot. If the pursuit of upholding the tradition demands women to wear ada rachus, then shouldn’t the same justly require all men to strip themselves of this abominable western invention called the ‘underwear’ and expose their bare genitals like our forefathers proudly did?

One thing our folks at the Ministry of Home did not understand and gets my goat the most is that culture is not decided overnight by a group of men; It is passed on from generations to generations. For example, the Sarshops have the beautiful tradition of Serga Mathang, which is just another excuse to screw one’s cousin that they somehow managed to preserve to this day. (You know your uncle’s daughter is your sister right? Ashole.)

On a totally unrelated instance; if you enter BBS office premises, you will be required to wear the National dress with formal shoes. If you go there wearing sneakers, you will be asked to take it off at the gate and enter their office barefoot. Because their office is a Dzong and their CEO is a Dzongda. Apparently, they live in a delusional world where they think that they are a valid governmental organization. It will be a matter of time before you will be required to take compulsory etiquette classes and wear kabneys just to enter their offices, and anyone who does not follow would be tased with an electric taser and seared with hot-iron. Speaking of searing with a hot-iron, many years ago, Gelephu and Sarpang police used to harass and jail people who didn’t wear national dress in the town. They would often put the culprits in the back of their pickup truck and drop them far off in the forest and make them walk all the way back.

My point is, if we have to harass individuals in the street to wear our national dress or force women to throw their flowery rachus away, then we have lost the very essence of it. It is our pride to wear the National dress. We do it out of an immense sense of love and respect for our country. That is why we do not find a single Bhutanese entering a Dzong without wearing a Gho.

It is one thing to educate and encourage people and leave it to their choice, quite another to force it on them. Things have changed. We live in the glorious era of Globalization. Internet’s at our fingertip enabling us to watch porn without having to go to Osang Video Library, yet it is astonishing to see how we still try to shove down other’s collective throats and dictate how one should lead their lives with rules coined during the times when we were still collecting wild mushrooms. Please know that it is a democracy and any effort of subjugation will be faced with a huge middle-finger from the public.

The practice of Tshe-thar (life release)—the pros and cons

The practice of Tshethar is prevalent in many Buddhist communities throughout the world, Bhutan included. While it is an act of compassion which I am in no wise condemning, at the same time individuals must open their eyes to the threat it poses to the animals themselves and the ecosystem at large if not done intelligently.

My first encounter with the practice was back in the year 2000. A group of monks and lamas had released hundreds of catfish in into the river. It might appear like a compassionate act, but in contrast, it could be crueller. Catfish are omnivorous, which means these shark-headed asholes feed on everything to the extent that they are considered a pest by many. They devour smaller fishes and anything that comes their way, including private parts of a naked swimmer (I am sure there is a recorded case somewhere). The catfish they had released in the river must have killed hundreds of thousands of other fishes in the river. It is like saving a Serial killer from a death sentence and releasing him into a peaceful community.

Scientifically speaking, releasing animals not native to the habitat causes a great deal of disharmony to the ecosystem. (There was a similar story in Perth, Australia where they released harmless Goldfish into the Vasse River. These midgets later grew up to be as big as four pounds; causing harm in the River by digging up vegetation, stirring up sediment and eating almost anything they see, including the eggs of native fish species.)

An entire Industry has been developed around this practice. In Bodhgaya, fishes are bought, released for Tshethar, caught again and sold to another unsuspecting pilgrim for the life-release.
In Bhutan too, there are similar stories about the Yak Tshe-thar where religious people set yaks that are about to be slaughtered free by paying a hefty amount as a ransom. The only problem is, there are rumours that they are caught again and marketed to another group of unsuspecting lamas for the same. (The truth of it is yet to be confirmed, though.)

When old cattle are released into the wild, they are exposed to possible wild animal attacks and other threats. The wild isn’t a safe for the domesticated animals anyway. They are not really doing them any favour if you look at it this waymost Bhutanese are against killing, in a worst-case scenario, they walk the animal to the edge of a cliff around the time of Losar and wait for them to fall to their death. So, all they are doing in the name of Tshe-thar is screening out old animals that are no longer useful to relieve themselves from the burden of feeding them under the pretence of saving them from a non-existent slaughter.

I am sure, this post is going to fuel public backlash, I am not condemning the practice, rather raising awareness so that people who do it do it intelligently. I wish forest officials be present to advise whenever tshe-thar is carried on.

let us save animals, let us also do it wisely. I condone, not condemn compassion. But being blind to the consequences in pursuit of it could be fatal.

Don’t censor art in the name of culture, censor stupidity if you must

Some of you who follow me closely might be smart enough to point out that I do not live my life by social norms. I have this real useless thing I do called ‘thinking,’ and because of that I often like to form an opinion about things once in a while, especially when stupidity is involved. And a very reliable source (consisting of a group of morons who hate the concept of joy and freedom) notified me that because of this I am not a very good Bhutanese citizen.
Please read along as I enter the forbidden land of Bhutanese hypocrisy to piss off another group of people.

As many of you know, I make my living from the Film Industry. And as such, we have to live very much under the dictates of BICMA, an authority often referred to as ‘real life autocorrect’ by some.
Recently, in their quest to censor everything good from Bhutanese media, they have once again jumped in with their rod of chastening to censor kissing scenes from Bhutanese movies. (I didn’t know this was a thing until one of the films I was associated with was denied certificate unless they cut out the kissing scene.) Before I further my case, let me remind my audience that the scenes weren’t unshowable.

When asked to justify, their answer was that we have always been a conservative society and such are shameful, indecent and against our culture.

Now those of you who think a kissing scene in a film is obscene and against our culture, do you even know our culture? Do you know how salacious our traditions can be at times?
You can’t even enter a Bhutanese village with your family members because every possible place is filled with penises and phalluses. Penises protruding out of the door posts, penises hanging down from the roof. There are large wall paintings of penis fastened with silk ribbon, and for some reason strangled by a dragon. And people even wear miniature phalluses for a necklace as a sign of good luck.
There is the festival of naked dance where nude men flap their junk against their thighs, and the rest of the women watch them and clap.
And there is the widely celebrated tradition of night hunting, a culture that encourages non-consensual sex, rape, and teenage pregnancy.
And not to mention the tradition of Serga-Mathang, a glorified excuse to screw one’s cousins.
Go to any Tshechus and try coming back without being dry-humped from the back by some mannerless Atsaras.
Bhutanese worship Lam Drukpa Kuenley whose very philosophy of preaching Dharma was through (brace yourself ladies) the blessings of his gigantic johnson.

It is penises, sex, penises, and more penises; that is our whole culture. And you are telling me that we were culturally very conservative and shy society? Then you either don’t know our culture at all, or you are blind.

What makes our culture? The music, the literature, the paintings, the costumes. And what are they? Art. And art and culture are evolving every day. Culturally, we never wore underwears; now we do. (Although there are rumors that some senior officials at the Driglam Namzha commission still do not wear underwear in order to uphold our tradition of no-underwear.) We used to cook our food in a bamboo trunk; now we have rice cookers. My point is, things evolve for betterment without necessarily changing our identity.

I do appreciate your efforts to promote our national language and national dress; you keep an eye that our culture is upheld properly. And these are good things you do, but there are those things you do that do not make any sense in today’s modern society. We are already exposed to such things through televisions and western medias.

The change is flowing in like a flood. Globalization is inevitable. You can either move with the flow or get washed by it; either way, despite your approval, change is here to stay for good.

Bhutan stretchable time

In Bhutan, it is okay to come to the office one hour late, but it is not okay to leave office one hour late. It is a fashion to arrive late, do things later and chew doma. What gets my goat the most are our mentality: it’s like the entire country is filled with happy go lucky hillbillies who apparently has no regards whatsoever for his own or other’s time. Maybe these things were going on for so long that we eventually stopped giving a rat’s ass. But I think procrastination is the biggest form of corruption that’s been going on in Bhutan.

Let me narrate you a real story that would perhaps summarize our mentality in a nutshell. Back in my primary school, on the National day, we were gathered for the march-past since 7 AM in the morning. Lam Neten, our chief guest, was supposed to arrive at 8 AM, but he doesn’t. We were made to stand in the scorching sun for almost two hours, and then finally he comes at 9:15 AM. And the first thing he said was “Cha Chachab lesum bey hey gaa?” Seriously Lama? I mean, you made us wait in the scorching sun for almost two hours, half of our girls blacked out, a dozen of them left for hospital with bleeding nose, my testicles somehow almost reached my throat, and the only thing that comes to my mind right now is to plunge my hand through your anus, grab out your intestines and then choke you to death with it. And you suppose we’re fine? Go on Lama.
And then, like all other assholes from Bhutan, Lama had all his time. He beat around the bush for one hour most of which copied lines from sheyting. Who in his right mind, under the heat of scorching the sun gives an hour long speech? Lam Neten apparently. Lama went on; the Scouts kept on picking the fainted students, one of the guys even got epileptic seizure as I stood there still, sweats dripping down my testicles, dehydrating me drop by drop. At the end of that one hour long teeth chattering, cuss muttering, curse whispering moment of frustration, Lama gave us one of the most remarkable advice of all time “ditsue Thola matang. Chhog taago nya butsha” Oh really? Out of seven billion people on Earth, Lama finds himself and only himself worthy to inspire us with his time management bullshit. Congratulations Lama, rather than an amiable wise sage we thought you were, you turned out to be an aging douchebag.

But everywhere is the same in Bhutan. Procrastination is our thing. It is like cancer which we can’t get rid of. It’s in our genes passed on by our forefathers. And we treasure it like a tradition, which, if lost would put our freedom at stake. Civil servants, teachers, students, Dashos mostly, MP’s, police…everyone.
Many times when we go to government offices, we get the answer “Come on Monday, Dasho dato busy dhu” just like that, without even thinking. And of Corse, when we go next Monday they will repeat the same line like a retarded parrot. Well, he isn’t made Dasho so he can sit on his chair, be served and get la-la-shu-shu. He was put there to do his job. Then do the thing.

Our officers should know that most of the people who comes aren’t from around Thimphu, and they probably have to stay at hotels or relatives’ house. Your one day of postponement will probably cost them a thousand bucks. I have seen people move around from office to office for months just to get simple things done.

If only we knew how to value time; if only our Government officials stopped procrastinating, if only they knew that everyone has their lives to lead, mouths to feed. We would have been far fruitful and self-reliant country.

 

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.