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Showing posts from June, 2012

On Summer Break

Summer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeksSummer break starts today. For two weeks. Thank you for visiting La.

Wangdue, The Consolidator.

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One of the volunteers said, "The feeling of helplessness was so frustrating that, tears automatically rolled down my cheeks, as I stood and could do nothing but watch the fire consume the Dzong".  Image Courtesy - www.shinkar.blogspot.com  When me and my colleagues from school went to serve refreshments to the volunteers the next day, the feeling that sat heavy on my heart was like that of visiting a beloved relative's funeral. There was this overwhelming feeling of loss and emptiness. I cannot recall any sadder disaster in my living memory.  Image Courtesy - GoogleImage  This fortress which stood tall and mighty since 1638 was an internal part of our history. Like its name suggest, Wangdue Phodrang , the Place of the Consolidator, it played many a vital role as the seat of bringing unity and consolidating power when Bhutan was once consumed by civil wars and power struggles. Image Courtesy - www.yesheydorji.blogspot.com And even now in its leaving us,

Corporal Punishment and me.

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Never did I think Corporal Punishment would become so much a part of my life. Today the words are etched on my mind to make me aware that I should not use it. Courtesy - Google Image As a student, I remember my Dzongkha teacher beating one of my friends when we were in class three. I remember the teacher but can’t recollect the student who forgot to write his homework. I also remember the yellow substance dripping down the boy’s thigh as the teacher sent him crying to the toilet. I never knew what happened after. When I was a boarding student at Paro Junior High School I remember   the principal’s famous elastic bamboo stick nearly dislocating my thumb. The swift bamboo swinging landed on my cold palm in the chilly winter morning. I cannot describe the pain, it was excruciating and I cried like a little girl. I could not even hold my spoon while eating my breakfast later that morning.   I was ten minutes late for my morning study. That same year, I heard that a boy had