It still makes me cry
It is 6:30 PM and the winter sun had given its power to the mighty full moon to take the in-charge to light the busy capital city too keep the nocturnal life moving forward to get into the beautiful dawn. The chilly breeze blowing from the river Wangchu takes its move. The street becomes less crowded and people then start to gather into their home to keep themselves warm. For those who have home would be sitting on their warm couch tugged with inner cloths to fight back the cold winter weather of Thimphu.
Walking down the main street, with a black and white nokia mobile phone clutch in his left hand and his right hand inside his gho pocket is Dorji, a son of a farmer who has been to the city to attend the orientation programs and then to sit for the exams as he has completed his graduation. Being from an uneducated family tree, they don’t have any siblings who are educated and staying in Thimphu to host him. With limited hard earned money during his winter vacation, he has to weigh the importance of the spending and has to always think three months ahead and plan his money management. Seldom, his days are with three meals and most of the time, it is only an affordable lunch and a light dinner. And the reason for his walks down the street at this cold hour is to reduce the time of his stay with one of his far relative who hosts him, so that he doesn’t become a disturbance to their private life.
Pretending to be engaged in the mobile to let other people not suspects him of any reason while walking up and down the street; he would dial 123 and listened to the auto reply of the telecom service. He wished to receive a call from his old father from the phone of the relatives in their village and to convey the message to not to worry much about him but he won’t as his father can’t pay the charge. Moreover Dorji could not afford to call his dad, as his mobile calling balance should be used in only important job search purpose and he cannot recharge anytime, as it will reduce his planned meal schedule next time.
As the darkness engulf the night by stealing the light of the moon, the air around the city gets colder and few people walks along the street. Beggars along the street has taken the shed near the beams of the building and some even along the corridor, trying to be away from the chill air by covering themselves with rugged cloths and pieces of news papers. He felt so sorry but, looking to himself, he felt they are instead happier than him, as they got some place to rest, whereas he is still in a open air. He would once even decide to sleep along with them, but, his only hand-woven gho has to be kept clean, as anybody can call him tomorrow to attend the interview. By this time, it is almost 10:00 PM and by next 30 minutes, his host would sleep after watching the entire Bhutanese serial and he has to reach to the house before they sleep. If he reaches after they sleep, he won’t be able to ring the door bell in fear of disturbance and his night to rest has no destination.
He should now walk toward the home, as it takes 20 minutes to reach from the city. On his way, he has to search a stick and carry some stone in his hand, as dogs along the way are usually seen attacking people. Even with the bone chilling breeze, he gets sweat on top his nose as his energy of the early lunch has already been finished and the fear from dogs made him jog rather walk. Reaching home, he would hesitantly knock the door and then, their house maid would open the door. Soon he enter the room, he would then take off the shoe and then go to the bath room to wash his foul smelling feet, as he had only one pair of socks and shoe, which he has to use it in all kind of weather. They would then ask Dorji to take dinner, IF he has not taken, but, a guest answer to the host is, always denial when the word “IF” is used in offering things.
He silently slips into the bed with a smile on his face, for getting at least a place to sleep away from cold. He then prays and then goes off to sleep as his tomorrow is no more different.