Madeywa, the hamlet I came from

 Standing dignified on the very greasy steep slope in far east of Bhutan is my village, Madeywa, one of the backwoods in the country. It is almost impervious to swallow that life could exist in such a setup for the faraway readers and the viewers above. It dates back years henceforth about how did it catch the name Madeywa. It is largely believed that a long time ago two girls were lost, and never they could find them, which simply is "maan-gay-maa" in dialect, Sharchop. According to other theories, its meaning is sad in Dzongkha. Any ways we don't have any conclusive hard or soft smoking gun. However, "maan-gay-maa" couldn't be deemed more as locals fancied multitude of changes and finally to 'Madeywa', and until now, I am not convinced of the spelling; this is what my citizenship identity card reads.

              Insulated by the nauseating mountains' ranges and have stretched far from the reach of lights and roads until lately I am sure that the faith runs deep through the very core of each person living in it. Half bored by the daily routine men get drenched in alcohol, laughter and quarrels annually in festival times, which usually follow the later months of the year. Each person lives in their terms. They have their occupation, some cowboys, some carpenters, some black magicians, some hunters, some fishermen, some monks, some housewives, some politicians and so on. Autumn is the time to realize what people have seeded, and it is the only agency to caliper the coins.

              I enjoyed being every part of my hamlet, and I still adore being one apart from those petty lousy memories of carrying electric poles in cold winter of 2005 and of course yes, how could I cosign Kesang Wangchuk's dialogue to oblivion? " dhaa, hungten yaa oie Bong tsaa dhaa boo," to Sonam in such times. Still more, like Bumpa Tshering hitting an arrow to Phopjaalaa, me getting bruised by school teachers because of local jargon, Melam pulling down Tenzin off the ladder and Melam getting banged for his evil doings in the society would keep me always alive. Above all winter of 2005 is life imprisoned in my memories.

              For me, it is an Elysium. Living in Delhi, I am not carried away by the metropolitan bombast.