Love Rules the World.
Many of our students are extremely good at writing love stories. They have inspired me to try my hand at writing one. I'd be happy if my first attempt at writing a love story wins your appreciation as well.
An Aching Love Story:
“Sir, what’d you have done if you’re Anupam? Would you have done the same just by staying near her, happy in the knowledge that you’ve found ‘room in her heart?” Dolma Tamang asked me, standing from her chair near the window. We had just finished Tagore’s very popular story “Woman Unknown” and the question was a natural response.
I looked over Dolma’s shoulder out the glass window. Spring was in the air. The lone cypress tree in the middle of the garden outside was swaying in the gentle breeze. Even the building opposite housing the Staff Room with the curtained CC Room above looked eager to hear the answer.
“I’m not very sure what I’d have done in his place. Possibly I’d done the same. By staying in her close proximity, by making myself useful to her, I’ve already found some room in her heart. We’re already the best of friends and who knows with the passage of time our friendship may turn into something more promising…She’s still very young and may change her mind of remaining a spinster, later on..”
“Sir, how did you make Madam change her mind to accept you?’ Dawa asked me then with the most innocent face, in a most respectful manner. Now, things are changing by leaps and bounds in the Education System. Gone are those days when the stick had the last say. The focus these days is more on a child-friendly school. An institute where there is a relationship of absolute trust and faith, of mutual admiration and respect between the teacher and the taught. I looked at Dawa just to make sure that he was serious about the question, that he felt there was a connection between the story and my personal life, before answering:
“I really didn’t have to use all my persuasive skills to make her change her mind. I just tried to be honest with her. Make her understand what she meant to me. But that’s another story,” I tried diverting their attention without much success. Because as soon as I had uttered this sentence, PHuntsho Wangmo, one of the most serious of the students, cried out: “Sir, why don’t you share it with us, if it’s okay with you – this may help us to understand the story better.” I kept staring at Phuntsho just to see if her look was trying to catch a friend’s eye here and there in order to convey a secret message. She stared back at me as if her life depended on how I reacted to the question.
“It’s a long story. She’s a contract teacher of my previous school. Both of us had the same subject combination during our college days. I was smart enough not to bother her in those days as she was a junior. But we became very good friends once she had joined my school. She would come to me asking me about her doubts. I’s, to tell you honestly, quite impressed with her seriousness and passion for teaching.
I’s staying outside the school compound in a nearby house, while she was staying with the Librarian. On holidays, when I’d go to Ap Doley’s canteen, I’d find them sitting in the room at the back, having Wai Wai or Koka.
“Sir,” she would chime in,”why are you sitting there all by yourself? Why don’t you join us? And I’d join them at their table. We’d spend the next two to three hours chatting about various things from the new township coming up in the heart of the dzonkhag to the poor performance of our students in the Board Examination to the new Indian teacher, who would be teaching Maths in the higher classes. I forgot to tell you that while the two of us kept on chattering, Kezang, the Librariam mostly kept quiet. I’m not very sure whether she’s reticent by nature or it was due to her respect for a popular teacher like me.
Anyway, Sonam and I became the best of friends in a very short period of time. We became so close that gradually she started coming to my house whenever she’d a problem with her History lessons. ”Sir, how was Madam in those days?” Chencho, a new comer to the school, threw the question at me as the rest of the class started eyeing him for asking me a question which was very palpable to all.
“She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve seen all my life. Taller than most of the Bhutanese girls, she’d an athletic figure at that time. I’ve always liked the way she carried herself and any kira that she wore looked like it was just made for her. She was very stylish. Her eyes had both the spring and the sparkle in them. She could carry a lot of messages just by looking at anyone. “
By then, I’d fallen for her and was thinking of proposing without waiting any more. I still remember the date, the 13th of December. The Board Exams were over by then. I’s on my way back to my place, when I met Kezng, our Librarian. I’s a bit rattled finding her alone as normally Kezang and Sonam were inseparable. They’d go everywhere together, eat together, and even join the girls in playing games like basketball or volleyball after school together.
“Good afternoon, Sir.”
“Afternoon, Kezang. What happened today? Why are you alone?”
I thought I’d noticed some kind of discomfort in her demeanour as she tried to avoid answering my question.”Sonam’d to go back home. She …she’d a problem. She’s not coming back, Sir.”
“What? She isn’t coming back? Is anything the matter, Kezang? Are you trying to hide something from me?”
“No, Sir. She received a call from her friend working in the hospital last evening. Looked very upset. Made a few calls afterwards including a call to Principal Sir and went home. While she was packing up, finding how devastated she looked, all I could think of was to make something for her. She left half an hour later. I had a tough time persuading her to have dinner. As she was in a hurry, in a daze…I …I thought it best not to ask her anything. Had there been something, I’m sure she’d have told me. Excuse me, Sir. It’s getting late. I’ve to move now, see you tomorrow.”
The abrupt manner in which Kezang left me, made me realize that something was the matter. On getting back to my place, I tried calling her several times. Each time I found her mobile switched off. I missed her at school the next day. Tea and samosa, without her, were not all that tasty. The friends appeared selfish, all lost in the web of corrections and paper checking.
As the next day was a Sunday, I decided to pay her a visit, unasked, unannounced. It was an unbelievable day. The walk along the road with the golden paddy fields on both sides capped by the gorgeous blue sky overhead, lessened my tension somewhat. The mountains on the other side of the sparkling river seemed graver and darker than usual at that hour of the day. As I drew nearer the lhakhang behind which she stayed in a three storied house, I bumped into Chhimi, one of her closest friends. She’s a favourite student of mine as well. The moment she saw me, the blood from her face faded. Smart as she was, she broke into a smile the very next moment.
“HI, Sir. It’s a pleasure to have you here. Finally, after all these years, you could make time to visit our place!” I cut her short. “Chhimi, what’s wrong with Sonam. Why isn’t she coming back to school?” She didn’t expect me to be that forthright. She as a result was caught unawares.
“Sir, I’m sorry. I don’t really know. Is something wrong with her?”
“Cut the crap, Chhimi. You should know me better than that. WHAT’S HER PROBLEM? WHAT’S WRONG WITH SONAM?”
The way I raised my voice must have frightened her. She just took a tiny amount of time to make up her mind and then she told me. She couldn’t have taken more than two minutes to narrate it all. She was also polite enough to ask me to come to her house for some tea afterwards. But I declined her offer with a quick shake of the head.
“I think I’d better be going, Chhimi. Where does she stay? “She pointed to her house on the other side. As I entered her house for the first time, the place on the ground floor for the cattle end chicken, made very little impressions on me. I climbed up the wooden staircase. On the shaded coup outside, I found her amma. “Wai, Lopen. Please come in…” She tried to be polite and kind, despite the look of concern on her face?’
“Amma, where’s Sonam?’
“She’s here. Should I send her here or do you want to get in?” Her simplicity won me despite the anxiety, frustration, and anger brimming up in me. I decided to wait for her in the living room. As I sat on the sofa near the cold bukhari, I could see a framed photo of Sonam taken some years back. She looked gorgeous in a dazzling kira. The photo must have been taken during the tshechu somewhere. Sonam slowly stepped in. Gone were the springs from her steps, gone was the sparkle in her eyes. She looked like having gone into a shell, a white-washed wall, immovable, irresponsive, unscrutinable. She seemed to have grown a few years older in the last couple of days.
“Hi, Sir. What a surprise!” Did I hear her say it or was it her eyes talking?
“Sonam, you call me a friend? You’ve gone through so much in the last few months and you never disclosed anything to me? How did it all happen?
Just like Chhimi had done earlier, Sonam was hesitant for a minute. As she knew me better, she decided against keeping anything from me. She told me how she was called home for the annual puja a few weeks after the summer break, how she was forced to sleep with the lama against her will and how she came to know about her pregnancy from a friend working in the hospital.
In the ensuing moments that seemed like eternity, I asked her why she had decided not to go back to school
“What’s the point, Sir? People will come to know soon and you can’t keep everyone’s mouth shut?’
“What have you decided about the child?”
“I don’t know, Sir. The lama, by now, must have forgotten me. But I don’t want to abort the child.”
“Can I request you to get back to school?” As she started shaking her head vehemently, I got up and standing in front of her, I took her hands in mine and then looking her straight in the eye, I whispered: “
“Sonam, I want you to listen to me carefully. I am not doing you any favour. I love you. I’ve always loved you from the day you came to my life by joining our school. Will you …will you give me a chance to let us raise the baby together?”
That was when Sonam started crying.
The End
An Aching Love Story:
“Sir, what’d you have done if you’re Anupam? Would you have done the same just by staying near her, happy in the knowledge that you’ve found ‘room in her heart?” Dolma Tamang asked me, standing from her chair near the window. We had just finished Tagore’s very popular story “Woman Unknown” and the question was a natural response.
I looked over Dolma’s shoulder out the glass window. Spring was in the air. The lone cypress tree in the middle of the garden outside was swaying in the gentle breeze. Even the building opposite housing the Staff Room with the curtained CC Room above looked eager to hear the answer.
“I’m not very sure what I’d have done in his place. Possibly I’d done the same. By staying in her close proximity, by making myself useful to her, I’ve already found some room in her heart. We’re already the best of friends and who knows with the passage of time our friendship may turn into something more promising…She’s still very young and may change her mind of remaining a spinster, later on..”
“Sir, how did you make Madam change her mind to accept you?’ Dawa asked me then with the most innocent face, in a most respectful manner. Now, things are changing by leaps and bounds in the Education System. Gone are those days when the stick had the last say. The focus these days is more on a child-friendly school. An institute where there is a relationship of absolute trust and faith, of mutual admiration and respect between the teacher and the taught. I looked at Dawa just to make sure that he was serious about the question, that he felt there was a connection between the story and my personal life, before answering:
“I really didn’t have to use all my persuasive skills to make her change her mind. I just tried to be honest with her. Make her understand what she meant to me. But that’s another story,” I tried diverting their attention without much success. Because as soon as I had uttered this sentence, PHuntsho Wangmo, one of the most serious of the students, cried out: “Sir, why don’t you share it with us, if it’s okay with you – this may help us to understand the story better.” I kept staring at Phuntsho just to see if her look was trying to catch a friend’s eye here and there in order to convey a secret message. She stared back at me as if her life depended on how I reacted to the question.
“It’s a long story. She’s a contract teacher of my previous school. Both of us had the same subject combination during our college days. I was smart enough not to bother her in those days as she was a junior. But we became very good friends once she had joined my school. She would come to me asking me about her doubts. I’s, to tell you honestly, quite impressed with her seriousness and passion for teaching.
I’s staying outside the school compound in a nearby house, while she was staying with the Librarian. On holidays, when I’d go to Ap Doley’s canteen, I’d find them sitting in the room at the back, having Wai Wai or Koka.
“Sir,” she would chime in,”why are you sitting there all by yourself? Why don’t you join us? And I’d join them at their table. We’d spend the next two to three hours chatting about various things from the new township coming up in the heart of the dzonkhag to the poor performance of our students in the Board Examination to the new Indian teacher, who would be teaching Maths in the higher classes. I forgot to tell you that while the two of us kept on chattering, Kezang, the Librariam mostly kept quiet. I’m not very sure whether she’s reticent by nature or it was due to her respect for a popular teacher like me.
Anyway, Sonam and I became the best of friends in a very short period of time. We became so close that gradually she started coming to my house whenever she’d a problem with her History lessons. ”Sir, how was Madam in those days?” Chencho, a new comer to the school, threw the question at me as the rest of the class started eyeing him for asking me a question which was very palpable to all.
“She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve seen all my life. Taller than most of the Bhutanese girls, she’d an athletic figure at that time. I’ve always liked the way she carried herself and any kira that she wore looked like it was just made for her. She was very stylish. Her eyes had both the spring and the sparkle in them. She could carry a lot of messages just by looking at anyone. “
By then, I’d fallen for her and was thinking of proposing without waiting any more. I still remember the date, the 13th of December. The Board Exams were over by then. I’s on my way back to my place, when I met Kezng, our Librarian. I’s a bit rattled finding her alone as normally Kezang and Sonam were inseparable. They’d go everywhere together, eat together, and even join the girls in playing games like basketball or volleyball after school together.
“Good afternoon, Sir.”
“Afternoon, Kezang. What happened today? Why are you alone?”
I thought I’d noticed some kind of discomfort in her demeanour as she tried to avoid answering my question.”Sonam’d to go back home. She …she’d a problem. She’s not coming back, Sir.”
“What? She isn’t coming back? Is anything the matter, Kezang? Are you trying to hide something from me?”
“No, Sir. She received a call from her friend working in the hospital last evening. Looked very upset. Made a few calls afterwards including a call to Principal Sir and went home. While she was packing up, finding how devastated she looked, all I could think of was to make something for her. She left half an hour later. I had a tough time persuading her to have dinner. As she was in a hurry, in a daze…I …I thought it best not to ask her anything. Had there been something, I’m sure she’d have told me. Excuse me, Sir. It’s getting late. I’ve to move now, see you tomorrow.”
The abrupt manner in which Kezang left me, made me realize that something was the matter. On getting back to my place, I tried calling her several times. Each time I found her mobile switched off. I missed her at school the next day. Tea and samosa, without her, were not all that tasty. The friends appeared selfish, all lost in the web of corrections and paper checking.
As the next day was a Sunday, I decided to pay her a visit, unasked, unannounced. It was an unbelievable day. The walk along the road with the golden paddy fields on both sides capped by the gorgeous blue sky overhead, lessened my tension somewhat. The mountains on the other side of the sparkling river seemed graver and darker than usual at that hour of the day. As I drew nearer the lhakhang behind which she stayed in a three storied house, I bumped into Chhimi, one of her closest friends. She’s a favourite student of mine as well. The moment she saw me, the blood from her face faded. Smart as she was, she broke into a smile the very next moment.
“HI, Sir. It’s a pleasure to have you here. Finally, after all these years, you could make time to visit our place!” I cut her short. “Chhimi, what’s wrong with Sonam. Why isn’t she coming back to school?” She didn’t expect me to be that forthright. She as a result was caught unawares.
“Sir, I’m sorry. I don’t really know. Is something wrong with her?”
“Cut the crap, Chhimi. You should know me better than that. WHAT’S HER PROBLEM? WHAT’S WRONG WITH SONAM?”
The way I raised my voice must have frightened her. She just took a tiny amount of time to make up her mind and then she told me. She couldn’t have taken more than two minutes to narrate it all. She was also polite enough to ask me to come to her house for some tea afterwards. But I declined her offer with a quick shake of the head.
“I think I’d better be going, Chhimi. Where does she stay? “She pointed to her house on the other side. As I entered her house for the first time, the place on the ground floor for the cattle end chicken, made very little impressions on me. I climbed up the wooden staircase. On the shaded coup outside, I found her amma. “Wai, Lopen. Please come in…” She tried to be polite and kind, despite the look of concern on her face?’
“Amma, where’s Sonam?’
“She’s here. Should I send her here or do you want to get in?” Her simplicity won me despite the anxiety, frustration, and anger brimming up in me. I decided to wait for her in the living room. As I sat on the sofa near the cold bukhari, I could see a framed photo of Sonam taken some years back. She looked gorgeous in a dazzling kira. The photo must have been taken during the tshechu somewhere. Sonam slowly stepped in. Gone were the springs from her steps, gone was the sparkle in her eyes. She looked like having gone into a shell, a white-washed wall, immovable, irresponsive, unscrutinable. She seemed to have grown a few years older in the last couple of days.
“Hi, Sir. What a surprise!” Did I hear her say it or was it her eyes talking?
“Sonam, you call me a friend? You’ve gone through so much in the last few months and you never disclosed anything to me? How did it all happen?
Just like Chhimi had done earlier, Sonam was hesitant for a minute. As she knew me better, she decided against keeping anything from me. She told me how she was called home for the annual puja a few weeks after the summer break, how she was forced to sleep with the lama against her will and how she came to know about her pregnancy from a friend working in the hospital.
In the ensuing moments that seemed like eternity, I asked her why she had decided not to go back to school
“What’s the point, Sir? People will come to know soon and you can’t keep everyone’s mouth shut?’
“What have you decided about the child?”
“I don’t know, Sir. The lama, by now, must have forgotten me. But I don’t want to abort the child.”
“Can I request you to get back to school?” As she started shaking her head vehemently, I got up and standing in front of her, I took her hands in mine and then looking her straight in the eye, I whispered: “
“Sonam, I want you to listen to me carefully. I am not doing you any favour. I love you. I’ve always loved you from the day you came to my life by joining our school. Will you …will you give me a chance to let us raise the baby together?”
That was when Sonam started crying.
The End
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