The Twist in the Story

Chapter IV

Twist in the Story

Mother insisted me to go through the content of the letter. It was from Trashi Dema. I went through the content of the letter and came through the lines which said like ‘My sister’s marriage does not mean end of everything for you. I am there and if you do not mind, I won’t mind being with you’.

That was surprising. I asked mother repeatedly whether that letter was dictated or simply written by Trashi. She told me she did not tell anything to anyone. She also added and asked me to inform what was written. I told her I cannot accept anyone as substitute to Sonam Yangchen. Since she was gone for good, I did not want to think about anybody.

Mother and everybody became mum. I attended their programs on daily basis. One evening I retired home from firewood collection little tired. I went nearby the hearth to warm myself. Father was about to drink ‘ara’, locally brewed alcohol. He was offering me to taste little. I attempted little. That was refreshing. Maybe it was psychological, but I felt I forgot tiredness. I got different experience. I do not remember whether I ate supper that night. The next morning was fresh and normal.  I went to attend my classes by assuring them that I would return in the evening. In the evening, father offered me another cup of ara. In that manner I became a habitual drinker. One might think that I drank to drown my past memories. One might also think I became drinker because father offered me. No, I deny all that allegations. I drank because I developed inseparable inclination to the taste of ara. I drank wholly awake to the fact that drinking alcohol is not a healthy habit.

By the time it was time for Trashi Dema to come home for summer break, I became a habitual drunkard. I drank in the morning and afternoon when there was no program in the College. It became difficult for me to sleep without ara at night. Ara became my faithful partner. Trashi Dema and Sonam Lhaki came home for vacation. May be because I did not love her, I saw her differently that time. On seeing curly haired, shaggy, sickly and spectacled Trashi Dema, I remembered the chit sent by her and the evening when her mother narrated me the story of her.

Later, I heard through mother that Trashi Dema was a sickly child since birth. She had heart problem and that she was short-tempered child given excessive freedom for fear of amiss. She too told me that they expected one caring, patient, and devoted partner for her.

Reflecting on all these, I got one feeling that I could give her love as expected and take her for heart transplant beyond Bhutan, if necessary. I had seen myself drawing near her every new day. I came to understand her better every time I had a talk with her. Slowly, I could share my soft corner for her. I used to give her a card with expression of love. She too reciprocated my words by responding in equal terms. As mother informed, I came to learn that she was really short-tempered. With little wrong in choice of words, she used to react sharply. My days with her sometimes used to end in a big misunderstanding. I used to seek mediation between us from ara and sallow everything along with it. The following day used to be normal. Our talk would start in a friendly manner. In that way, our relation ensued. But before it got amalgamated and culminated into a marriage, something unexpected came in between us too.           

It was in June 1997, a fresh batch of class XI joined Sherubtse College from different schools. I cannot tell exact number of students from different schools. However, they came and joined different streams viz. Science, Commerce and Arts based on their merits. One day Trashi Dema handed me one addressed envelope to be delivered to one boy from Jigme Sherubling, Khaling. I thought they might have been a classmate or close associate when they were down there. I did deliver that letter. In good faith, I delivered the second letter as well. However, reaching the third letter, some sordid thought within me forced me to open the envelope and go through the content. Though, I was fully aware that opening others’ letter without permission was a crime, yet, I could not refrain from tempering it. I went through the content and found out that the letter was a love letter. Straight away, I went back and charged her for using me as their postman. I did not know, whether she wasn’t aware or was pretending, while I was accusing her, she was asking me what the problem was. I had to tell her straight that I was not happy with her for concealing something from me. I clarified to her that if she was bent on the feeling that she would not be happy with me I would not compel her to stay with me.

From the next day, I forgot everything. I forgave her for her mistake. I told her that I would help her become successful with her boyfriend. She assured me that she would not keep any contact with him. She also told me that her parents will not be happy if they hear about all that. I promised her that her parents will not know of that story. Only if I tell they would know. But I had decided not to tell them at any point of my contact with them. She regretted for her action and wept bitterly in front of me. Still, I thought that she would be happier with her first love than with me. I wanted her to be happy in her life.

Over the time, I made friend with him. His name was Tshering. I took him to her house and introduced him to her parents as my friend. I accompanied him till he became acquainted with the family. Slowly, I tried to divert my attention; by not going to her place, by staying in hostel with my friends. It was difficult for me to lock myself inside the hostel. I was addicted to going to her house. There was an indication that even her father could not remain without me. He might have had something queer lest I had problem. We had become close like son and parents. Father came to ask me what was wrong and why was I not coming up. He used to insist me to come. He was a very good father. He was so precious for me to lose. I went up on his insistence. By the way, I hope readers will have the question why am I repeatedly using ‘went up’ in relation to her house. Let me explain here that her house was located to the north of Sherubtse College where I studied. This is the sole reason why I often use ‘went up’ while sharing my journey from college to her place.

I continued my life as earlier. However, over the times, I had to remind myself of my commitment to Tashi Dema. I thought I must find new means to engage myself. One means I could discover as a result of my meditation was that I decided to change my course of movement. I went towards a place called Namla which is about five kilometers from Sherubtse.