Scientifically it’s
proven that female reach to menopause at the age of 45 which literally means
that there will be no birth after 45 years old. But exceptionally I came to
this materialistic world when my mother was one year behind to attend golden
jubilee in her age. Though I broke one of the universally accepted scientific laws
but was not fortunate enough as I was deprived of breast feeding right after
few months of my birth. Twenty five years ago, being born to humble family in
one of the remotest village of GNH country, currently abundantly seen formula
milk and bottle feeding must have been hardly available to use, so in substitute of
breast feeding I was brought up by feeding
with locally brewed alcohol until I got admitted to Pre primary. Sonam Tobgay (Bhutanese translation- Sonam:
luck, Tobgay: prosperous) is a name given to me by my grandfather who was by
then an abbot of local monastery of our village. Logic behind why I got this
particular name was that my grandfather had a perception that I must be a child
with lots of luck, since I was delivered when my mother has practically crossed
menopause phase of her life and it’s rare to see women giving birth at such
age.
Regardless of
grandfather’s perception, in reality I was never blessed with so called lady
luck. Proper breastfeeding is clinically advised for a child to have sound
mentality and physique development but pathetically every day I was fed with
more than a litre of alcohol in place of breastfeeding despite my tender age and
it was a daily part of my diet until I started my schooling. If I am to go with
the approved theory of science lesson which explains the impact of alcohol in
tender age children, by now I should say that I am an exceptional scientific
specimen surviving against the approved theory without any visible abnormalities.
When I was
approximately three years old, my dear father by then who must have been in mid
fifties passed away untimely. Being located in one of the remotest part of the
country without accessibility to modern amenities and exposure, villagers lived
with full of superstitious beliefs. People believed that my father died due to
black magic but in reality recently after consulting with my mother I believe
he must have been infected with malarial disease as he was sick right after
returning trip from malaria infested
area. Untimely death of him deprived me from experiencing fatherly love and
care. In spite of my mother’s agony over losing her dear partner, she had a
hard time consolingly me about the death of my father as I always demanded him to
be present with me during several occasions. These days, my heartache and
cheeks get drenched with rolling tears
when my mother shares me about incidences like
sleeping with my father’s Gho (Bhutanese traditional dress for male) during bed time and demanding to eat in
his Bang-chung (container made from woven bamboo used as plate) while serving
meals.
Every legal document
interprets that I was born in month of December, 1988, a Dragon year which
contradicts with my current Bhutanese calendar’s zodiac sign. According to my
parents, I was born at the end of Hare (rabbit) year of Bhutanese calendar and
I belong to Hare not Dragon. So after doing little home work about my date of
birth, according to Bhutanese calendar I came to know that its technically
right that I belong to Hare(rabbit) year in 1987 although I was biologically
given birth somewhere in the mid of February 1988. The simple reason behind the confusion is
that Bhutanese calendar is always lacking behind by two to three months
comparing to widely used Christian calendar.
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