Those empty chairs have been replaced.
Students of class VI C laugh and talk and pretend not to see that their classmate has been missing for a year.
Seven school boys were washed away by the Wangchhu in the wee hours of the morning at Tshimasham on July 27 last year.
Yesterday, the family members of the seven boys marked the first death anniversary of the boys.
One year after the tragic incident of the seven boys at Tshimasham, the memories of them have begun to fade. Only the parents of the deceased know that their children, and that particular incident, will never leave their lives.
“Are you sure they are never going to come back?” This was a question that the teachers of the seven boys were asked constantly for months after the incident.
They really didn’t come back.
Today, the new basketball court is ready at the school. Thirteen year-old late Sangay Dawa had then waited for the completion of the basketball court so that he could beat the lone survivor of the incident, Tshering Samten, in a game.
The students do not ask the same question any more and are now convinced that their friends are never going to come back again.
On July 27 last year, helpless parents and a panic-driven rescue team witnessed a nightmare which perhaps will never leave them.
“Today when I look back at that night, I still shiver,” said a dzongkhag worker who was there to save the boys. “I don’t look at the trail the boys took that day anymore,” he said.
The trail from the ‘zero point’ that the boys took to go down to the river has become a ‘must see’ point for travelers.
While most of the parents of the deceased still live with the nightmare in Tshimasham, 14-year old late Tashi Phuntsho’s family have been transferred to Dagana.
As for Tshering Samten, after repeating the same horrific incident to visitors many times, hearing his friends’ screams in the middle of the night and having survived the incident, now studies in Class IX in Zhemgang.
Speaking to the media last year, he said this incident will haunt him for a long time and that this will never leave him the same again.
Monks chant prayers in the rooms once occupied by the boys today while the visitors talk about the incident. The same was the scene a few days after the incident last year.
But today, the details are little and the memories have become a blur.
A son of Karma Dema, a parent in Tshimasham, studied with late 14-year old Kinley Rinzin. She said her son often remembers him.
“If Kinley Rinzin was still alive, they would be working on carving darts,” she said.
According to the principle of Tshimasham Middle Secondary School, Norbu Gyeltshen, the classmates of the boys still talk about the seven boys and are frequently remembered by the school, especially during the morning assembly.
Sunday 22 August 2010
SEVEN BOYS (griefs and tears)
In each house of the deceased monks chanted prayers. The parents looked tired, withered and still in a state of shock.
Sangay Dawa’s mother, Rinzin Dema who rushed from Paro on hearing about the tragic incident said she had never felt helpless in her entire life.
“I not only lost my son, but I lost my daughter too,” she said. “He was both to me, I thought my future was secured because I had him as my child,” she said as she cried.
Fighting tears, she said he was ever ready to help others. But when he faced death, no one could help him not even herself as his mother.
Tshewang Tenzin spoke to BT with regret in his mind, he said it seemed like he was there not to save his son but only to watch him die.
“If only I could get to see his body, the sin of not being able to save my son will go away,” he said.
As for Sangay Pem, she will never forget the fear on her son’s face and his shrill voice calling out for her as he was washed away.
“I am ashamed I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there and watch my son being washed away,” she said.
Sangay Dawa’s mother, Rinzin Dema who rushed from Paro on hearing about the tragic incident said she had never felt helpless in her entire life.
“I not only lost my son, but I lost my daughter too,” she said. “He was both to me, I thought my future was secured because I had him as my child,” she said as she cried.
Fighting tears, she said he was ever ready to help others. But when he faced death, no one could help him not even herself as his mother.
Tshewang Tenzin spoke to BT with regret in his mind, he said it seemed like he was there not to save his son but only to watch him die.
“If only I could get to see his body, the sin of not being able to save my son will go away,” he said.
As for Sangay Pem, she will never forget the fear on her son’s face and his shrill voice calling out for her as he was washed away.
“I am ashamed I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there and watch my son being washed away,” she said.
SEVEN BOYS (A survivour's tale)
He sees his friends, and he doesn’t see them. He talks to people, but the silence haunts him. He hears screams, and he experiences strange exhaustion.
But it is the terror in his friends’ face that haunts him the most. He survived only to be haunted by the memories of his dead friends.
Tshering Samten, 18, the lone survivor of the Tsimasham tragedy, is a different person; in less than a day his life changed for ever.
Today, he sits on his bed, huddled tight in a blanket for protection. And he prays furiously, pulling his rosary.
It’s not a good sight to see Tshering Samten being questioned by every goodwill visitor coming to his sister’s house and asking him to repeat the story that will haunt him for a long time.
As night falls he hears his friends’ screams and the horror he saw in their faces keeps flashing in his head.
“I see them huddled on the rock, helpless and crying for help that never came,” he says. “I can hear them praying in desperation.”
Tshering Samten rests his shaking hands on his bruised knees and looks at his sister with guilt that only he can understand. And he apologizes for his helplessness. His sister smiles at him with the reassurance of pure happiness that a person who had been at the throes of death and back brings.
In the next room, monks chant prayers. Visitors sit in the living room and talk about the incident. Hearing them discuss his dead friends he closes his eyes and bites his upper lips for strength. And he cries like a baby.
“Sangay Dawa and I had just drawn some flowers on the wall,” he says, recollecting the last thing he did together with his friend who was among the seven boys washed away by the Wangchhu in the wee hours of July 27.
Sangay Dawa lived with Tshering Samten at his sister’s place. On the cream wall are the two beautiful flowers, painted in red and green. Underneath the flowers are their names and signatures.
“Art by Tshering Samten and Sangay Dawa,” read the signatures.
He looks at his friend’s handiwork, goes silent for some time, and again bursts into tears.
“They would have been alive had they swam across with me. I failed to save them,” he says in a cracked voice.
Tshering Samten seemingly needs help and support to see him through the trauma.
But it is the terror in his friends’ face that haunts him the most. He survived only to be haunted by the memories of his dead friends.
Tshering Samten, 18, the lone survivor of the Tsimasham tragedy, is a different person; in less than a day his life changed for ever.
Today, he sits on his bed, huddled tight in a blanket for protection. And he prays furiously, pulling his rosary.
It’s not a good sight to see Tshering Samten being questioned by every goodwill visitor coming to his sister’s house and asking him to repeat the story that will haunt him for a long time.
As night falls he hears his friends’ screams and the horror he saw in their faces keeps flashing in his head.
“I see them huddled on the rock, helpless and crying for help that never came,” he says. “I can hear them praying in desperation.”
Tshering Samten rests his shaking hands on his bruised knees and looks at his sister with guilt that only he can understand. And he apologizes for his helplessness. His sister smiles at him with the reassurance of pure happiness that a person who had been at the throes of death and back brings.
In the next room, monks chant prayers. Visitors sit in the living room and talk about the incident. Hearing them discuss his dead friends he closes his eyes and bites his upper lips for strength. And he cries like a baby.
“Sangay Dawa and I had just drawn some flowers on the wall,” he says, recollecting the last thing he did together with his friend who was among the seven boys washed away by the Wangchhu in the wee hours of July 27.
Sangay Dawa lived with Tshering Samten at his sister’s place. On the cream wall are the two beautiful flowers, painted in red and green. Underneath the flowers are their names and signatures.
“Art by Tshering Samten and Sangay Dawa,” read the signatures.
He looks at his friend’s handiwork, goes silent for some time, and again bursts into tears.
“They would have been alive had they swam across with me. I failed to save them,” he says in a cracked voice.
Tshering Samten seemingly needs help and support to see him through the trauma.
SEVEN BOYS (A survivour's tale)
He sees his friends, and he doesn’t see them. He talks to people, but the silence haunts him. He hears screams, and he experiences strange exhaustion.
But it is the terror in his friends’ face that haunts him the most. He survived only to be haunted by the memories of his dead friends.
Tshering Samten, 18, the lone survivor of the Tsimasham tragedy, is a different person; in less than a day his life changed for ever.
Today, he sits on his bed, huddled tight in a blanket for protection. And he prays furiously, pulling his rosary.
It’s not a good sight to see Tshering Samten being questioned by every goodwill visitor coming to his sister’s house and asking him to repeat the story that will haunt him for a long time.
As night falls he hears his friends’ screams and the horror he saw in their faces keeps flashing in his head.
“I see them huddled on the rock, helpless and crying for help that never came,” he says. “I can hear them praying in desperation.”
Tshering Samten rests his shaking hands on his bruised knees and looks at his sister with guilt that only he can understand. And he apologizes for his helplessness. His sister smiles at him with the reassurance of pure happiness that a person who had been at the throes of death and back brings.
In the next room, monks chant prayers. Visitors sit in the living room and talk about the incident. Hearing them discuss his dead friends he closes his eyes and bites his upper lips for strength. And he cries like a baby.
“Sangay Dawa and I had just drawn some flowers on the wall,” he says, recollecting the last thing he did together with his friend who was among the seven boys washed away by the Wangchhu in the wee hours of July 27.
Sangay Dawa lived with Tshering Samten at his sister’s place. On the cream wall are the two beautiful flowers, painted in red and green. Underneath the flowers are their names and signatures.
“Art by Tshering Samten and Sangay Dawa,” read the signatures.
He looks at his friend’s handiwork, goes silent for some time, and again bursts into tears.
“They would have been alive had they swam across with me. I failed to save them,” he says in a cracked voice.
Tshering Samten seemingly needs help and support to see him through the trauma.
But it is the terror in his friends’ face that haunts him the most. He survived only to be haunted by the memories of his dead friends.
Tshering Samten, 18, the lone survivor of the Tsimasham tragedy, is a different person; in less than a day his life changed for ever.
Today, he sits on his bed, huddled tight in a blanket for protection. And he prays furiously, pulling his rosary.
It’s not a good sight to see Tshering Samten being questioned by every goodwill visitor coming to his sister’s house and asking him to repeat the story that will haunt him for a long time.
As night falls he hears his friends’ screams and the horror he saw in their faces keeps flashing in his head.
“I see them huddled on the rock, helpless and crying for help that never came,” he says. “I can hear them praying in desperation.”
Tshering Samten rests his shaking hands on his bruised knees and looks at his sister with guilt that only he can understand. And he apologizes for his helplessness. His sister smiles at him with the reassurance of pure happiness that a person who had been at the throes of death and back brings.
In the next room, monks chant prayers. Visitors sit in the living room and talk about the incident. Hearing them discuss his dead friends he closes his eyes and bites his upper lips for strength. And he cries like a baby.
“Sangay Dawa and I had just drawn some flowers on the wall,” he says, recollecting the last thing he did together with his friend who was among the seven boys washed away by the Wangchhu in the wee hours of July 27.
Sangay Dawa lived with Tshering Samten at his sister’s place. On the cream wall are the two beautiful flowers, painted in red and green. Underneath the flowers are their names and signatures.
“Art by Tshering Samten and Sangay Dawa,” read the signatures.
He looks at his friend’s handiwork, goes silent for some time, and again bursts into tears.
“They would have been alive had they swam across with me. I failed to save them,” he says in a cracked voice.
Tshering Samten seemingly needs help and support to see him through the trauma.
SEVEN BOYS (A nightmare unfolds)
On the morning of July 26, Sangay Pem’s 14-year-old son Kinley Rinzin was carving a khuru (dart). His father wanted him to cook lunch for the family but the boy refused.
But after a while, Kinley Rinzin agreed to put the rice in the electric cooker. “But I am not going to cook the curry,” he said.
His father said it was a fair deal.
And then, Kinley Rinzin took off to shoot the dart he had just carved.
***
A little further down Tashi Phuntsho, 14, was helping his father prepare for the puja to be held the next day.
Tshewang Tenzin saw his son pack some biscuits and raw noodles and asked him if he was going out. His son said no.
But not too long and his son was missing from home.
***
Exactly at 8 pm, a chill coursed down Sangay Pem’s spine. Her son had not returned home yet. She began to worry. Similarly, Tshewang Tenzin felt anxious too.
Sangay Pem then set out on foot to look for her son. She inquired to people around if they had seen Kinley Rinzin. But no one had seen him. She continued her futile search and made a few random phone calls.
Tshewang Tenzin set off in his car to look for his son. And no one had seen him, too.
***
A boy completely drenched in mud and water made it to Tsimalakha at around 8:45 at night. He looked spent and was in a state of shock.
It was Tshering Samten, the eldest among the eight boys.
***
Tshewang Tenzin drove toward Tsimalakha and saw a mud-splattered figure. He asked the boy where he was coming from. Tshering Samten said from the river, after swimming.
“And your son is still there, stranded with six other friends” said Tshering Samten.
Hearing this, Tshewang Tenzin bowled over and his heart raced to his throat. All strength slipped away from him.
***
Sangay Pem was still looking for her son when her cell phone rang. It was Tshewang Tenzin asking her to come to the last shop.
Soon, she, along with Tshewang Tenzin, Tshering Samten and some friends were running toward the river, in complete darkness.
**
The trail in the woods had now become slippery because of the rain. They lost their footing several times, fell down, rolled over, got up and continued running. They didn’t stop for a moment.
And they saw their sons and their friends, huddled together on a rock, in the middle of a raging river. Muddy water lashed at their half naked bodies and there was horror written in their faces. All of them were praying.
Sangay Pem passed out.
***
In panic they lost track of time. But Tshewang Tenzin called up the Chhukha dzongda. The dzongda quickly gathered a group for the rescue operation. Leading the group, the dzongda set off with ropes and flashlight.
***
It was one in the afternoon. The Chhukha Hydropower Corporation dam was rapidly filling up all throughout the morning. The rain in Thimphu, Haa, Paro, and dam area had swelled the river and the water inflow in the dam was recorded at 144.88 cubic meters a second. This record was made at 11 at night after the dzongda called the head of plant, Lam Dorjee.
At that time, the water level in the dam was 1,839.7 meters. The water storage capacity of the dam is 1,842 meters. The normal water level at the dam is always controlled at 1,838 to 1,839 meters. If the water level crosses 1,839 it can get dangerous and the dam can give way causing an insurmountable disaster downstream. Therefore, one of the radial gates is opened every so often to discharge the excess water from the dam.
On July 26, the shift in-charge started the hourly discharge of excess water from the dam at one in the afternoon. At 9 pm, the water from the dam was discharged at 47.5 cubic meters a second. At 10 pm it was discharged at 42.02 cubic meters a second. At 11 pm it discharged at 41.20 cubic meters a second.
However, immediately after the call from the dzongda, the water discharge from dam was brought down to nine cubic meters a second. It was 11:15 pm. This rate was maintained till one in the morning the next day.
But the water level in the dam kept rising. It was 1,840.9 meters at 1 am the next morning. So, the discharge was increased to 15.08 cubic meters a second at 2 am, and 15.42 cubic meters a second at 3 am. By this time the water level in the dam had reached a danger level at 1,841.2 meters. More than 1,842 meters and the dam could burst.
***
Meanwhile, a small stream called Tichalumchhu which joins the Wangchhu about a kilometer downstream of the dam had also swollen, pouring more water into the river.
***
The boys looked relieved when they saw their parents. They knew help was on its way.
But the rain held up and the river continued to rage.
**
The rescue team reached the spot. And to everyone’s relief, as if a divine intervention was on its way, the river subsided, ever so slightly.
Taking advantage of the ebb, seven adults (Sangay Pem, Tshewang Tenzin, the dzongda, the police officer, and three dzogkhag staff) jumped on to a huge rock to be closer to the rock where the boys stood. Hope had replaced horror in their eyes.
The team passed nylon ropes to the boys telling them to tie it around their waist. But the boys didn’t hear them. The river was too loud for human voice to surpass it.
Unable to communicate with the boys, one of the parents put a cell phone in a plastic bag and passed it on to the boys. Seeing his son bare, Tshewang Tenzin took off his shirt, put three packets of glucose biscuits in it and passed it to the boys.
“Apa is here to save you, don’t be frightened, we are all here to save you,” he told his son over the phone.
Just then the river started to swell more.
***
The boys tied the rope around their waist and the other end was with the rescue team.
But the water level started to rise again.
Sangay Pem held a torch and looked on helplessly at her son. Other parents shouted at the boys telling them not to be scared.
Time went by and the panic-ridden rescue team couldn’t make much progress. Dangerous currents stood between them and the boys.
***
And then at around 3:30 am, there was a strong gush of water. In a blink of the eye the boys had been washed away. Only the rock on which they stood waiting for help for more than six hours remained.
Sangay Pem and Tshewang Tenzin fell flat on the rock and cried.
***
On hearing that the stranded boys had been washed away, and fearing the dam would burst any time (water in the dam was close to the full capacity), the water was discharged at 52.01 cubic meters a second. It was four in the morning.
But after a while, Kinley Rinzin agreed to put the rice in the electric cooker. “But I am not going to cook the curry,” he said.
His father said it was a fair deal.
And then, Kinley Rinzin took off to shoot the dart he had just carved.
***
A little further down Tashi Phuntsho, 14, was helping his father prepare for the puja to be held the next day.
Tshewang Tenzin saw his son pack some biscuits and raw noodles and asked him if he was going out. His son said no.
But not too long and his son was missing from home.
***
Exactly at 8 pm, a chill coursed down Sangay Pem’s spine. Her son had not returned home yet. She began to worry. Similarly, Tshewang Tenzin felt anxious too.
Sangay Pem then set out on foot to look for her son. She inquired to people around if they had seen Kinley Rinzin. But no one had seen him. She continued her futile search and made a few random phone calls.
Tshewang Tenzin set off in his car to look for his son. And no one had seen him, too.
***
A boy completely drenched in mud and water made it to Tsimalakha at around 8:45 at night. He looked spent and was in a state of shock.
It was Tshering Samten, the eldest among the eight boys.
***
Tshewang Tenzin drove toward Tsimalakha and saw a mud-splattered figure. He asked the boy where he was coming from. Tshering Samten said from the river, after swimming.
“And your son is still there, stranded with six other friends” said Tshering Samten.
Hearing this, Tshewang Tenzin bowled over and his heart raced to his throat. All strength slipped away from him.
***
Sangay Pem was still looking for her son when her cell phone rang. It was Tshewang Tenzin asking her to come to the last shop.
Soon, she, along with Tshewang Tenzin, Tshering Samten and some friends were running toward the river, in complete darkness.
**
The trail in the woods had now become slippery because of the rain. They lost their footing several times, fell down, rolled over, got up and continued running. They didn’t stop for a moment.
And they saw their sons and their friends, huddled together on a rock, in the middle of a raging river. Muddy water lashed at their half naked bodies and there was horror written in their faces. All of them were praying.
Sangay Pem passed out.
***
In panic they lost track of time. But Tshewang Tenzin called up the Chhukha dzongda. The dzongda quickly gathered a group for the rescue operation. Leading the group, the dzongda set off with ropes and flashlight.
***
It was one in the afternoon. The Chhukha Hydropower Corporation dam was rapidly filling up all throughout the morning. The rain in Thimphu, Haa, Paro, and dam area had swelled the river and the water inflow in the dam was recorded at 144.88 cubic meters a second. This record was made at 11 at night after the dzongda called the head of plant, Lam Dorjee.
At that time, the water level in the dam was 1,839.7 meters. The water storage capacity of the dam is 1,842 meters. The normal water level at the dam is always controlled at 1,838 to 1,839 meters. If the water level crosses 1,839 it can get dangerous and the dam can give way causing an insurmountable disaster downstream. Therefore, one of the radial gates is opened every so often to discharge the excess water from the dam.
On July 26, the shift in-charge started the hourly discharge of excess water from the dam at one in the afternoon. At 9 pm, the water from the dam was discharged at 47.5 cubic meters a second. At 10 pm it was discharged at 42.02 cubic meters a second. At 11 pm it discharged at 41.20 cubic meters a second.
However, immediately after the call from the dzongda, the water discharge from dam was brought down to nine cubic meters a second. It was 11:15 pm. This rate was maintained till one in the morning the next day.
But the water level in the dam kept rising. It was 1,840.9 meters at 1 am the next morning. So, the discharge was increased to 15.08 cubic meters a second at 2 am, and 15.42 cubic meters a second at 3 am. By this time the water level in the dam had reached a danger level at 1,841.2 meters. More than 1,842 meters and the dam could burst.
***
Meanwhile, a small stream called Tichalumchhu which joins the Wangchhu about a kilometer downstream of the dam had also swollen, pouring more water into the river.
***
The boys looked relieved when they saw their parents. They knew help was on its way.
But the rain held up and the river continued to rage.
**
The rescue team reached the spot. And to everyone’s relief, as if a divine intervention was on its way, the river subsided, ever so slightly.
Taking advantage of the ebb, seven adults (Sangay Pem, Tshewang Tenzin, the dzongda, the police officer, and three dzogkhag staff) jumped on to a huge rock to be closer to the rock where the boys stood. Hope had replaced horror in their eyes.
The team passed nylon ropes to the boys telling them to tie it around their waist. But the boys didn’t hear them. The river was too loud for human voice to surpass it.
Unable to communicate with the boys, one of the parents put a cell phone in a plastic bag and passed it on to the boys. Seeing his son bare, Tshewang Tenzin took off his shirt, put three packets of glucose biscuits in it and passed it to the boys.
“Apa is here to save you, don’t be frightened, we are all here to save you,” he told his son over the phone.
Just then the river started to swell more.
***
The boys tied the rope around their waist and the other end was with the rescue team.
But the water level started to rise again.
Sangay Pem held a torch and looked on helplessly at her son. Other parents shouted at the boys telling them not to be scared.
Time went by and the panic-ridden rescue team couldn’t make much progress. Dangerous currents stood between them and the boys.
***
And then at around 3:30 am, there was a strong gush of water. In a blink of the eye the boys had been washed away. Only the rock on which they stood waiting for help for more than six hours remained.
Sangay Pem and Tshewang Tenzin fell flat on the rock and cried.
***
On hearing that the stranded boys had been washed away, and fearing the dam would burst any time (water in the dam was close to the full capacity), the water was discharged at 52.01 cubic meters a second. It was four in the morning.
SEVEN BOYS (A picnic turns sour)
It was an unusual sunny morning on July 26 for foggy Tsimalakha.
At around nine in the morning Tshering Samten began washing his school uniform. His friend Sangay Dawa was watching TV.And along came Kinley Rinzin, 14, carrying a bag. He was in a mood to swim.
“Why don’t the two of you join me?” he said to Tshering Samten and Sangay Dawa.
“I have clothes to wash,” said Tshering Samten.
But Kinley Rinzin persisted, and Tsherig Samten gave in. Sangay Dawa tagged along.
Soon they were joined by Sangay Phuntsho, Tashi Phuntsho, Pema Sonam, Tashi Penjor and Sonam Pelgay.
And the eight boys set out to beat the heat.
Hopping and skipping on the road, digging each other for fun and frolicking like larks they couldn’t wait to get to the river.
Following a flimsy trail in the deep foliage, they walked into the woods and toward the river. And in about an hour they were there.
Hopping from stone to stone, they crossed the river and made it to the opposite bank. They took their clothes off and dived into the river.
About three kilometers downstream from the Chhukha Hydropower Corporation dam, the eight friends swam and played and laughed.
Afterward, sitting beside a warm fire they ate their lunch - kewa and laphu datshi (potatoes and radish cooked with cheese) rice, and raw noodles. They decided to save the biscuits for the evening tea at home.
The boys had all lied to their parents; some had said they were going to work on their school project. And parents had packed meals for them.
Just as they started eating the water level in the river began to rise. So they quickly finished eating and walked toward the dam to cross the river from there and head back home.
However, to their disappointment, there was no clear route and they lost the sense of direction. A huge cliff stopped them from going any further. They then walked back to the picnic spot.
It began to rain, and the boys panicked. The river was rising and the prospect of swimming back to the opposite bank looked bleak.
As rain poured hard on them, some cracked jokes to lift the spirits of the others. But the river kept rising. And they repented having lied to their parents.
But they decided to try their luck, and swam from the river bank to a big rock that jutted out in the middle of the river. Tshering Samten suggested they swim further to another rock and get to the river bank across.
Most refused.
Being the eldest in the group, Tshering Samten knew he had some responsibility for the safety of his friends. So he said he will swim to other rock and help them one by one. But the boys were scared.
And the rain continued to pour. The river soared.
But Tshering Samten swam, was sucked in by the river and thrown out, washing him some 100 meters downstream. Fighting the rapids with all his energy, Tshering Samten swam like mad. He made it to the other side of the river.
Another boy, Sangay Phuntsho, tried to swim across as well but went back giving up. The currents were too strong and the risk was big.
Barely able to communicate with his friends because of the river’s roar, all he could hear was his friends calling out to one Phurba who boys knew was an expert swimmer.
His friends wanted him to get Phurba there. Tshering Samten assured them help, asked the boys to hold on to each other, and starting walking back home.
But soon the night fell and he lost his way. He thought he was going mad. He ran through the jungle with numerous brambles bruising him. But he kept running.
“I didn’t even know where I was headed, I went wherever my legs took me and I kept running,” he said.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached Phurba, who immediately tied a rope around his waist and equipped himself with a knife.
But then, Phurba’s sister asked them to instead go and get help from the parents. Tshering Samten and Phurba ran toward Tsimalakha in the darkness.
(As narrated to BT by Tshering Samten)
At around nine in the morning Tshering Samten began washing his school uniform. His friend Sangay Dawa was watching TV.And along came Kinley Rinzin, 14, carrying a bag. He was in a mood to swim.
“Why don’t the two of you join me?” he said to Tshering Samten and Sangay Dawa.
“I have clothes to wash,” said Tshering Samten.
But Kinley Rinzin persisted, and Tsherig Samten gave in. Sangay Dawa tagged along.
Soon they were joined by Sangay Phuntsho, Tashi Phuntsho, Pema Sonam, Tashi Penjor and Sonam Pelgay.
And the eight boys set out to beat the heat.
Hopping and skipping on the road, digging each other for fun and frolicking like larks they couldn’t wait to get to the river.
Following a flimsy trail in the deep foliage, they walked into the woods and toward the river. And in about an hour they were there.
Hopping from stone to stone, they crossed the river and made it to the opposite bank. They took their clothes off and dived into the river.
About three kilometers downstream from the Chhukha Hydropower Corporation dam, the eight friends swam and played and laughed.
Afterward, sitting beside a warm fire they ate their lunch - kewa and laphu datshi (potatoes and radish cooked with cheese) rice, and raw noodles. They decided to save the biscuits for the evening tea at home.
The boys had all lied to their parents; some had said they were going to work on their school project. And parents had packed meals for them.
Just as they started eating the water level in the river began to rise. So they quickly finished eating and walked toward the dam to cross the river from there and head back home.
However, to their disappointment, there was no clear route and they lost the sense of direction. A huge cliff stopped them from going any further. They then walked back to the picnic spot.
It began to rain, and the boys panicked. The river was rising and the prospect of swimming back to the opposite bank looked bleak.
As rain poured hard on them, some cracked jokes to lift the spirits of the others. But the river kept rising. And they repented having lied to their parents.
But they decided to try their luck, and swam from the river bank to a big rock that jutted out in the middle of the river. Tshering Samten suggested they swim further to another rock and get to the river bank across.
Most refused.
Being the eldest in the group, Tshering Samten knew he had some responsibility for the safety of his friends. So he said he will swim to other rock and help them one by one. But the boys were scared.
And the rain continued to pour. The river soared.
But Tshering Samten swam, was sucked in by the river and thrown out, washing him some 100 meters downstream. Fighting the rapids with all his energy, Tshering Samten swam like mad. He made it to the other side of the river.
Another boy, Sangay Phuntsho, tried to swim across as well but went back giving up. The currents were too strong and the risk was big.
Barely able to communicate with his friends because of the river’s roar, all he could hear was his friends calling out to one Phurba who boys knew was an expert swimmer.
His friends wanted him to get Phurba there. Tshering Samten assured them help, asked the boys to hold on to each other, and starting walking back home.
But soon the night fell and he lost his way. He thought he was going mad. He ran through the jungle with numerous brambles bruising him. But he kept running.
“I didn’t even know where I was headed, I went wherever my legs took me and I kept running,” he said.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached Phurba, who immediately tied a rope around his waist and equipped himself with a knife.
But then, Phurba’s sister asked them to instead go and get help from the parents. Tshering Samten and Phurba ran toward Tsimalakha in the darkness.
(As narrated to BT by Tshering Samten)
Seven Boys (Those Empty Chairs)
A strange emptiness cloisters Tsimalakha Lower Secondary School today. Young boys and girls ask questions that teachers find difficult to answer.
“Are you sure they are never going to be back?” a student asks her teacher.
Not knowing whether to reconfirm them the truth or give them false hopes, teachers turn away with congestion in their chest and a crack in their voice.
But the truth is already palpable. The students know their seven schoolmates will never come back.
And their chairs have remained empty for the past one week. Only the names scribbled on the back of their chairs refute the emptiness.
The boys loved basketball, their friends recall. And a new court was coming up in the school. They were waiting for its completion.
Most of them excelled in extra-curricular activities, their teachers say.
“They were very special children. Each had his own strength,” said a class teacher.
They were well behaved and some of them led sports team from their class.
The youngest, Tashi Penjor, had done exceptionally well in his mid-term examinations, according to his class teacher, Dorji Dema. He held the second position despite being an average student.
Students BT talked to find it difficult to forget the familiar faces. They keep thinking about their schoolmates and they keep asking questions to their teachers and parents.
The school was informed about the tragedy at 6:30 in the morning. The news shattered them all, teachers and students. They regret they couldn’t be of any help to their friends.
Now they keep throwing guilty glances at the empty chairs - sanctuary that once belonged to their friends. They feel endless chills coursing down their spines.
And they know it will not be long before the empty chairs are removed from the classrooms.
“Are you sure they are never going to be back?” a student asks her teacher.
Not knowing whether to reconfirm them the truth or give them false hopes, teachers turn away with congestion in their chest and a crack in their voice.
But the truth is already palpable. The students know their seven schoolmates will never come back.
And their chairs have remained empty for the past one week. Only the names scribbled on the back of their chairs refute the emptiness.
The boys loved basketball, their friends recall. And a new court was coming up in the school. They were waiting for its completion.
Most of them excelled in extra-curricular activities, their teachers say.
“They were very special children. Each had his own strength,” said a class teacher.
They were well behaved and some of them led sports team from their class.
The youngest, Tashi Penjor, had done exceptionally well in his mid-term examinations, according to his class teacher, Dorji Dema. He held the second position despite being an average student.
Students BT talked to find it difficult to forget the familiar faces. They keep thinking about their schoolmates and they keep asking questions to their teachers and parents.
The school was informed about the tragedy at 6:30 in the morning. The news shattered them all, teachers and students. They regret they couldn’t be of any help to their friends.
Now they keep throwing guilty glances at the empty chairs - sanctuary that once belonged to their friends. They feel endless chills coursing down their spines.
And they know it will not be long before the empty chairs are removed from the classrooms.
My death...
Death came slow as I lay there waiting. I was hoping it would just knock on my door as a wake up call and turn away. But it didn't!
It was past three in the morning, I was working late.
I hurried to my car, it was raining. The street was empty, only a few cars roared on the other street, breaking the silence of the night.
I turned my key in the ignition, my second hand truck came to life and I roared away, trying to make myself comfortable for an hour long drive home.
I took the left turning to get to the main road, my phone started to ring. I dug through my bag but I couldn't find my phone. My eyes were now on my bag although my hands were still on the wheel.
Just then strong yellow lights blinded me; I held my grip tight on the wheel and pulled hard towards the left. The big Tata truck almost threw me off road.
I pulled over on the side and put my head on the wheel. I took in the deepest and the longest breath.
Before I could let my breath out, something big hit my car and sent me flying off the cliff.
Time stopped for a moment, everything became quiet, my head felt light and there was nothing beneath my feet.
I felt as light as a feather, I could feel nothing, not even the beat of my heart.
There was peace, silence and DARKNESS.
Something crashed, heavily on a rock. Before I realized it was my car I was thrown out of the window and I landed on a small stream nearby.
I didn't know for how long I had passed out but when I came back to my senses, my world through my eyes seemed to be a blur, nothing but hazy and distant.
I tried to move, but I couldn't.
I let my eyes travel over my body; I could only see half of me. The other half was crushed under my car.
I tried to move my head and I felt something chill running in and out of my head. The water from the stream was running inside my head while my blood was flowing into the stream.
I lay there waiting for death.
I tried to scream but I couldn't hear myself at all.
In a flash of a moment, I saw my life. It was something like those flashbacks in a movie. Just that it was in black and white.
Everything that mattered to me flashed back.
I felt no pain for I knew my seconds were numbered.
Then the pain began. It was unbearable, something like getting toothache all over your body and you insides too.
I started to get prickly feelings all over; I knew I was losing blood.
The unbearable pain made me wish death came soon.
But death came slowly.
Death came to me only after three hours.
At a distant, I saw some flashlights. I tried to smile, finally there were some people coming to rescue me.
I was beginning to fall into a deep slumber, my eyes felt heavy, apart from that I didn't feel anything else.
Death had finally come to me, I tried to shoo away death. Tears started to roll down my cheeks and merge with the blood.
Yet again, I felt no pain. Death was indeed peaceful.
A face, unfamiliar came close to mine. He was one of my saviors who came too late.
He bent down and said, "Wake up, you are going to drop Wangyal late to school."
It was past three in the morning, I was working late.
I hurried to my car, it was raining. The street was empty, only a few cars roared on the other street, breaking the silence of the night.
I turned my key in the ignition, my second hand truck came to life and I roared away, trying to make myself comfortable for an hour long drive home.
I took the left turning to get to the main road, my phone started to ring. I dug through my bag but I couldn't find my phone. My eyes were now on my bag although my hands were still on the wheel.
Just then strong yellow lights blinded me; I held my grip tight on the wheel and pulled hard towards the left. The big Tata truck almost threw me off road.
I pulled over on the side and put my head on the wheel. I took in the deepest and the longest breath.
Before I could let my breath out, something big hit my car and sent me flying off the cliff.
Time stopped for a moment, everything became quiet, my head felt light and there was nothing beneath my feet.
I felt as light as a feather, I could feel nothing, not even the beat of my heart.
There was peace, silence and DARKNESS.
Something crashed, heavily on a rock. Before I realized it was my car I was thrown out of the window and I landed on a small stream nearby.
I didn't know for how long I had passed out but when I came back to my senses, my world through my eyes seemed to be a blur, nothing but hazy and distant.
I tried to move, but I couldn't.
I let my eyes travel over my body; I could only see half of me. The other half was crushed under my car.
I tried to move my head and I felt something chill running in and out of my head. The water from the stream was running inside my head while my blood was flowing into the stream.
I lay there waiting for death.
I tried to scream but I couldn't hear myself at all.
In a flash of a moment, I saw my life. It was something like those flashbacks in a movie. Just that it was in black and white.
Everything that mattered to me flashed back.
I felt no pain for I knew my seconds were numbered.
Then the pain began. It was unbearable, something like getting toothache all over your body and you insides too.
I started to get prickly feelings all over; I knew I was losing blood.
The unbearable pain made me wish death came soon.
But death came slowly.
Death came to me only after three hours.
At a distant, I saw some flashlights. I tried to smile, finally there were some people coming to rescue me.
I was beginning to fall into a deep slumber, my eyes felt heavy, apart from that I didn't feel anything else.
Death had finally come to me, I tried to shoo away death. Tears started to roll down my cheeks and merge with the blood.
Yet again, I felt no pain. Death was indeed peaceful.
A face, unfamiliar came close to mine. He was one of my saviors who came too late.
He bent down and said, "Wake up, you are going to drop Wangyal late to school."
A movie moment...
There he was, sitting on the table next to where I was seated. He had his earphone plugged into his ears. I was listening to my very own favourite love song by Willie Nelson, "Always on my mind."
I was having a rough day and I just wanted someone to take notice of it and brighten my day.
Unfortunately, the only person who could make me smile was the one who made me cry that day.
My passion for food, music and being alone was perhaps the most perfect set up for an unexpected romance.
As Willies's song played on and the emotions from the singer went from somber to powerful, I gazed across my table, on to his table and into his beautiful eyes staring at me with the gentlest look.
I felt the rush of chemistry run through me like a lightning bolt and I stopped the music suddenly, unplugging my earphones and just randomly looked around to release myself from the embarassment.
He smiled from the table but said nothing.
That made me feel even more concious, I could feel the heat on my face. I was blushing for sure.
And then, I could have kissed my luck a thousand times.
He got up and walked right across and sat on the chair next to me. "What were you listening to?" he asked me, his voice softer than his gaze.
"Willie Nelson's Always on my mind," I am still not sure even today if I squeaked while I said that.
"Wow this is like a movie moment," he said. "I was listening to the same song," and he handed me his left earphone and we listened to the song together.
Every day after that, we met for lunch. Five years have passed and we still meet for lunch every day. We are each other's best friend and untill now we never forget the reasons we fell in love.
And sometimes, we meet eachother with our family and listen to Willie's song. His wife loves the song and so does my husband.
(This is a piece of fiction dedicated to all those who doesnt have the person they are in love with)
I was having a rough day and I just wanted someone to take notice of it and brighten my day.
Unfortunately, the only person who could make me smile was the one who made me cry that day.
My passion for food, music and being alone was perhaps the most perfect set up for an unexpected romance.
As Willies's song played on and the emotions from the singer went from somber to powerful, I gazed across my table, on to his table and into his beautiful eyes staring at me with the gentlest look.
I felt the rush of chemistry run through me like a lightning bolt and I stopped the music suddenly, unplugging my earphones and just randomly looked around to release myself from the embarassment.
He smiled from the table but said nothing.
That made me feel even more concious, I could feel the heat on my face. I was blushing for sure.
And then, I could have kissed my luck a thousand times.
He got up and walked right across and sat on the chair next to me. "What were you listening to?" he asked me, his voice softer than his gaze.
"Willie Nelson's Always on my mind," I am still not sure even today if I squeaked while I said that.
"Wow this is like a movie moment," he said. "I was listening to the same song," and he handed me his left earphone and we listened to the song together.
Every day after that, we met for lunch. Five years have passed and we still meet for lunch every day. We are each other's best friend and untill now we never forget the reasons we fell in love.
And sometimes, we meet eachother with our family and listen to Willie's song. His wife loves the song and so does my husband.
(This is a piece of fiction dedicated to all those who doesnt have the person they are in love with)
Why break ups arent so bad...
Could it be just a dream? I shudder at my own question.
While reasoning out with myself and the justifications I always seem to have for everything, the heavy pounding on my door makes me jump out of bed.
The time reads 3 in the morning.
8 hours ago…
It was a dinner date with Karma, something we haven't done in the last 18 months we have been together. No candles lit, no red roses and no champagne. Just a normal dinner.
"We need to end this." I didn't know what he meant. "The relationships," he said looking away from me.
His words pierced right through my heart.
I didn't know what to say.
My whole life became a blank page, and for that moment I was lost for words.
With that, he said nothing more. He gave me a faint smile and stood up and walked away without looking back, not even once.
The food arrived shortly after he left.
He left me and didn't even bother paying for dinner. "So typically him," I thought.
7 hours ago…
For that moment I never realized that it took just one hour for someone to end an 18 month relationship.
Question! Was it really over?
Yes, it was.
Before I knew, I was already in a bar, drinking shots of whisky, one after another, like as if I have been hungry for it for years.
I probably didn't know how to take a not-so-bad breakup. But I knew something went wrong and that was why I was drinking.
The last thing I remember, I was looking for my keys.
I took a moment to love my new handbag. Something I had spent half a month's salary. I loved it, some bits of metal and leather stitched together to hold my life. I gave it a long loving look and a gentle pat. "I still have you baby," I whispered.
4 hours ago…
I had jumped straight into bed. Buried my face in my decade old pillow and cried. That was the first time I cried since Karma left me. I couldn't believe I lasted that long.
I cried myself to sleep.
3 am…
The pounding on the door did not stop.
I let out a whisper, "who is this?" There was no answer.
I peeped through the key hole, there was no one.
I opened the door to find a gift wrapped box with a card on it. It read, "Happy Valentine's Day, love Penjor."
I smiled, break ups aren't really bad.
While reasoning out with myself and the justifications I always seem to have for everything, the heavy pounding on my door makes me jump out of bed.
The time reads 3 in the morning.
8 hours ago…
It was a dinner date with Karma, something we haven't done in the last 18 months we have been together. No candles lit, no red roses and no champagne. Just a normal dinner.
"We need to end this." I didn't know what he meant. "The relationships," he said looking away from me.
His words pierced right through my heart.
I didn't know what to say.
My whole life became a blank page, and for that moment I was lost for words.
With that, he said nothing more. He gave me a faint smile and stood up and walked away without looking back, not even once.
The food arrived shortly after he left.
He left me and didn't even bother paying for dinner. "So typically him," I thought.
7 hours ago…
For that moment I never realized that it took just one hour for someone to end an 18 month relationship.
Question! Was it really over?
Yes, it was.
Before I knew, I was already in a bar, drinking shots of whisky, one after another, like as if I have been hungry for it for years.
I probably didn't know how to take a not-so-bad breakup. But I knew something went wrong and that was why I was drinking.
The last thing I remember, I was looking for my keys.
I took a moment to love my new handbag. Something I had spent half a month's salary. I loved it, some bits of metal and leather stitched together to hold my life. I gave it a long loving look and a gentle pat. "I still have you baby," I whispered.
4 hours ago…
I had jumped straight into bed. Buried my face in my decade old pillow and cried. That was the first time I cried since Karma left me. I couldn't believe I lasted that long.
I cried myself to sleep.
3 am…
The pounding on the door did not stop.
I let out a whisper, "who is this?" There was no answer.
I peeped through the key hole, there was no one.
I opened the door to find a gift wrapped box with a card on it. It read, "Happy Valentine's Day, love Penjor."
I smiled, break ups aren't really bad.
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