Deche's memoirs

The drive up the Namo Buddha hill in Nepal in a small cramped Maruti 800 on a rough farm road once again brought my attention to this constant annoying screeching. Upon being asked, my father said it was the sound of an insect called a taemjim (in Dzongkha). I had heard this screeching many a times before. The more I listened to it, the more annoying it was getting. The hike down the hill was peaceful though. The screech had disappeared. No screech of the annoying thing. Later I found out from father that it had timing, which was quite interesting. And it was a relief because I could not imagine the lives of the people living in the area if it continued forever. Just about a week ago, upon our arrival into the jungle that was about fifteen minutes from the Gasa hot spring, I started hearing the screeching once again. This time before I could complain, my father asked me if I was hearing the sound of the taemjim . We then compared the climate and the vegetation to that of the Namo Bu...

As he entered the premises of the Taba home, the six year old came running to him, shouting excitedly and cheerfully. She was overwhelmed to see him. He had traveled the whole day from Dzongchu, their village home in Kabesa, Punakha. She took him by the hand and led him up the stairs into the family kitchen where her mother stood cooking at the stove. The little girl’s excitement to see him was her love for packed lunches. He had brought packed lunch prepared by the grandmothers at Dzongchu. Her mother poured tea for them as they sat on the warm wooden floor.  She sat next to him, her elbow on his knee. She could not wait for him to open the packed lunch. He served her the rice in a bangchu (bamboo knit plates). He was cutting up the sikam (dried pork) for her into chewable bits when she grabbed a long sikam . She put one end between her teeth and tugged at it with her left hand. The already fatty sikam had been cooked specially in oil for the journey. Before he could s...