Skip to main content

And she is still waiting


It is been a year since she has been waiting. And knowing that he won’t come, she still waits. Somehow she cannot get off the feeling that he would come and save her. How easily could someone who promised her moon and stars change? How could he be so heartless to let her undergo a series of pains and heartaches? Today she misses her absent mother and the dead father more than ever.

Phuentsholing is a strange place. And survival threw her into different places and people, working for an Indian jewelry shop to waiter at a small hotel to a parking fee collection.

As far as her memory goes back, she has been working for one family or another. And the family she had been working for a year ago was by far the best people. After the death of her father, her mother remarried and ran away with a man.

When she thought she was learning to forget the absence of her mother, this man came along and promised her a colorful life. She decided even if she has nothing to eat, if there was someone who truly loved and cared her, she thought it was reason enough.

When she decided to leave the family, they were depressed. They didn’t want her to leave. But for her that was only possible excuse to come out of the shadowy life and live it real. To the family’s utter dissatisfaction, she ran away.

Having spent a night together at a restaurant in Thimphu, her lover bought her bus ticket to Phuentsholing. As the bus departed, the man promised her that he would be with her that very night. And in case he did not make up on the same day, she was to expect him the next day.

The next day she tried to contact him, but his cell phone was permanently switched off. Maybe he now has a new number.

And she is still waiting.

Comments

  1. Is this a true story Penstar? And do you know the girl? I wish we could help.

    I don't know whom to blame or if at all anyone is to be blamed! Keep us updated marey.

    Nice weekend.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

So what do you think?

Popular posts from this blog

Our throw-it-away culture

Like all grandparents, my late grandma would call food 'tsampa rimpoche' and any fuss made about it would invite everyone's sneer and scoldings. Food is always treated with respect and is never wasted. "If you waste food in any manner," she would admonish us. "One day food will discard you and you will go hungry." 
What remained from the previous meal would be turned either into porridge or sometimes leftover rice would be dried in the sun. The dried rice would then be fried into puffed rice and consumed with cups of suja. When there was so much food left, especially during big events, leftover rice or kharang would be mixed with a small amount of yeast and brewed into ara.  
The only thing that I can vividly recollect from my primary school days is how we would be hungry most of the time. Food we were served was hardly enough to tickle our throats. We would be sent home only once a week on Saturdays and that was our opportunity to replenish our popcorn s…

Utpal Academy - Bhutan's first All-girls High School

Welcome to Bhutan’s first all-girls school. Isn’t that wonderful news to all our parents? Certainly, as a parent of a one-year old daughter I am excited about the coming of a school exclusively dedicated to the needs of girls. Our girls need special treatment, which we can for sure entrust the responsibility to Utal Academy, Paro.
I really like the name – Utpal – in Buddhist world, Utpal is another name for lotus flower, which is believed to grow from mud and yet blossoms into a beautiful and majestic flower. It stands for purity and many deities are depicted holding flower Utpal, more prominently Jestusn Dolma, the Goddess Tara. Symbolically, it also stands for the transformation of our girls. What an apt name for the school!
The Principal’s message posted on the academy’s website promises providing our young women an “opportunity to participate fully in a wide range of extracurricular activities to develop skills and qualities that will lead to successful and fulfilling life.” That’s…

The Story Thief

When we were growing up in a small village in the central Bhutan, we would gather around our grandparents every evening in a room that would be dimly lit with a kerosene lamp. Our grandparents or the elderly members of the family would then take turns to entertain us (siblings and cousins who lived under the same roof) with their stories. Such was the only form of entertainment we had had then.  
Our grandparents would start their stories, which they probably would have heard them from their grandparents. A young poor boy becomes a successful farmer by a turn of luck, a man fights a bear, a poor boy accidentally marries a rich man's beautiful daughter, a lame monkey helps a boy find great wealth, a rooster regrets his action after he mistakenly accuses his wife and young men go on business trips to buy cattle, among many others. We grew up listening to many such stories. Sometimes, the storyteller would narrate the same story again and again, and yet every time it sounded more magi…