Impressing is your job, expressing is mine.

Before I went home this vacation, I had that faint feeling that it would be freezing cold and that maybe I shouldn't go... but then there was this documentary film I was working on which I had to finish (at least, I really wanted to get done)
I'd been looking forward to the shooting since I came back after Dussera (And before I tell u more, let me just tell you bout what I was shooting. And with that little part of how I am involved)
I'm confused... and not bout which pair of socks to wear tomoro or whether to get up at ( or postpone my alarm to 9.15 on college days... for once, I'm confused bout where I belong.

(btw, if you haven't heard of refugees or don't know which part of India Bhutan is in, or who is the Chief Minister of Nepal, you might as well get back to Orkuting, this isn't nice stories bout Hijras payoing back 5 bucks on the train or beautiful photographs on misty mornings)

Good to see you are still reading.
Its irritating when people think Nepal's a part of India, or when they think Bhutan is the name of some forest area near Mongolia. Truth is they are both Neighbors of India, really close to each other, seperated by Sikkim, which itself was a country till 76...(I know u know this,, some people I have met don't, and its painful)
And yeah,, there's a part about Hijras later on.. if you read on till that long.

Coming back to the issue...
About a hundred thousand people were evicted on really flimsy grounds in the late 80s and the early 90s from Bhutan, these are today living in Refugee camps in eastern Nepal. Nepal provided us refuge, UN kept us alive for 16 years, and the rest of the world doesn't know about us.

I don't live in a refugee camp. My name was deregistered in 93, which means I wasnt getting food from the UN all these years... and thats what makes me all the more confused. I was born in Bhutan and lived there for the first four years of my life. My mom held a Bhutanese passport adn was the District Education Officer under the Govt of Bhutan. Dad held Nepali citizenship but had been working in Bhutan for bout fifteen years.
By the time I was born, ethnic conflicts had started. More and more of the government policies were being directed against the Lhotsampa (Ethnic nepalis in Bhutan, majority of who were in the South of the country) community and most of these policies were designed to hit where it hurt the most- culturally.

And now (if you r still readingthis, either you r a nerd, or a realy good friend of mine, or eagerly waiting to get to the story out the HIjras on the train), let me tell you a bit bout Bhutan before I start harking politically controversial stuff.

Bhutan is a beautiful country, to some people I have met, I need to remind that it is a country in the first place. And its not up there in Mongolia, it's India's northern neighbor (and a much privileged one at that) just right of Sikkim and left of majority of Assam. Its also not an uninhabited place, ts got about 6,00,000 warm-blooded human beings living in there, which also stll includes some of my relatives and many of my childhood friends.
The beauty of the country is unbelievable, you have to see it to believe it. You'll cry if you see it- its that beautiful. Connectivity's poor, most of the country is unreachable by road. Even the highways are noarrow (for the last fifteen years of my life I have been wondering what happens if two lorries come across on one of these roads. I won't be allowed in, so I can only imagine)
Televison was allowed in 1999, (and many had been caught and imprisoned for placing antennas in the bathrooms and other secret places), mobile phones have reached the capital city (city?) and a few other towns and literacy must be nearing 40% by now.

Holy shit, u r still reading this?

The country is ruled by a king, who is much akin to God. The last one abdicated his throne last month. Democracy is to be ushered in in 2008, though the monarchy will remain. The 30% people who may understand what franchise means might just be waiting eagerly to cast their votes for some cabinet whose members will not be allowed to look into the King's face by royal decree even in 2047.
The history of Bhutan is shrouded in myth. After reading the textbooks of all classes (my friends in the refugee camps have to study Bhutan history), I can only think of logically explainable events occuring around the mid 20th century. google to find more, if you r bothered.

Bhutan has three main communities- the Ngalongs in the center and West(the ruling family belongs to this one), the Sarsops (a tibetan-mongoloid race) in the East (or maybe the other way round)and the Lhotsampas(Nepali speaking Aryans and Mongoloids inhabiting the Southern part).
Heavens knows what happened, the central policies suddenly started being directed againstthe Lhotsampas. Some say because Ethnic Nepalis had led to the downfall of the Chhogyal in Sikkim and the community had rallied for Gorkhaland in Darjeeling, the Bhutan Govt decided they were dangerous people and had to be got rid off. Others say Lhotsampas had the highest literacy rate and were also doing really well in all sectors, threatening to acquire political dominance in the future. Still others say stuff I don't really care bout. Read on the net to find out anything, if you even care.

Throughout all of what happened, I could gather nothing. We were living in the north (Punakha) where ethnic tension was minimum. But there came times when I started hearing about people who had gone to Nepal. I also knew I had to compulsorily wear the Bakkhu (the national dress- it was imposed upon all people, another reason for all the ethnic conflict).
By the end of 91, I was almost four, and I started learning that we would be going to Nepal soon. In 92, we came to Nepal.
17th Jan, we reached Birtamode, Nepal. Dad had come earlier and was getting a house built. I remember some of the journey. We had ridden a truck, with the belongings at the back. It wasnt all that bad as it sounds, I really can't remember the journey being uncomfortable. But I had a vague feeling that the back of the truck wasn't our entire world and some stuff was missing, propbably some of my toys too, though I am not really sure.

I think I'll buy you a burger for still reading this.

While our house was being built, we stayed at our new neighbors' place.
In the meanwhile, we knew of people who had been chased away and were settling in tents on the banks of a river called Mai (A tributary of the Kosi, which in turn is a tributary of the Ganga, and is locally revered as a holy river). I even went to the place once, though by then UNHCR had shifted most refugees to other refugee camps.
Many times, me and my sisters used to see trucks and trucks of refugees on the road which was visible from our new house. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew those people were ones less fortunate than us and that they had left their houses to be thrown upon the banks of Maidhar.

My first few months, I don't really remember. All I could figure out was that I was in a new place. My neighbors had a different accent than us though we spoke the same language. It was way much hotter than where I had come from, and there were ugly and horrible people called beggars, something we had never seen in Bhutan and scared us to death. I spent quite a few months asking Mom and Dad :When are we going back home?"

Almost every night we used to gather around the radio to listen to news on Radio Nepal, to hear if they would say anything about the refugees and if Bhutan govt would take us back. 15 years later, people still listen to the radio news with the same expectation.

Nepal also saw the beginning of my schooling. I had attended pre-primary probably four days back in Bhutan. Thanks to my excellent pre schooling at home, I realised that I knew much more than many of my friends. Learning Ka, Kha, Ga and ek, dui, teen was a pain though.

How the change must have been for my sisters I can only imagine. They had left entire classes of friends. They were in their upper primary by then. And all of a sudden, the social studies lessons had completely changed, they no longer had to study Dzongkha, the school dress was shirts and ties and not a Kira, they had to sing a different Ntaional anthem each morning and had to study a new language (which was our mother tongue but had a really unfamiliar script all the same). After a few months, or prob around a year, I also realised that my sister was not at all keeping well and that she was really ill.

I heard of refugee camps being built. I also knew that my aunt and some of my cousins stayed in there. Towards August of 92 or so, my sisters went to the camp and lived there a few months with our aunt.
I went to the camp sometime in January 93 and stayed there for bout three months.

Those few months were amazingly memorable.
School was a jungle near the camp (and so was toilet- that was an adjoinig jungle. By June 93, UNHCR had provided toilets, one for two houses, it still works the same way).
Each morning we used to carry a sack and books (hold on.. books only came by in february. Twas sack and a slate throughout Jan) and go place ourselves under a tree, which was our classroom- class 1, section C. Hari sir was our class teacher, he was one of learned who had finished his intermediate (those days it used to be class 13) and was sharing whatever he knew with those who didnt. One of my class mates was 24. He's probably 40 now, must have kids and all, never met him after i left the camp.
My cousin and me were in the same class. he was a few years elder to me (is that grammatically correct?). Each morning he used to leave home sulking with me for no reasons watsoever, and I had to go to school with someone else. To make things worse, I had to carry his sack too, for which he never thanked me. He was always around the big boys of the class, i was one of the little ones.
By the way, our school was called BLES (bloomin Lotus English School). It became my favorite shooting spot while i was working on the documentary. Our camp is called Goldhap, it is one among the eight refugee camps in Eastern Nepal, and by far the best. (Cause thats where i know the maximum people, and I dont really have to give explanations, coz no one's ever going to read this far, except my sister. If you're my sister, u're probably smiling. You're not my sister, you're probably nuts to read something so not connected to you so far)

What the hell, you still reading this? (not applicable to didi).

Goldhap was also where I committed my first crime.
Some people had set up small shops where they sold sweets and cigarettes and guthka. Anda mithai (directly translated as egg sweets: sugar balls, shaped like eggs and colored) was our favorite, coz we got six for a rupee...(If you aren't a refugee, you wont understand how costly that is).
One fine day, I stole five rupees from Aunty's purse. My best friend and neighbor (holy shit! i forgot his name) and me went and bought 30 anda mithais... I have honestly never felt so rich in my life as i did then....
I was scared of aunty (Me and my cousin Dinesh were living with her, and she was in charge. She brought up all of us, even back in Bhutan coz mom wouldnt be with us during the day. We all love her, but when I committed mistakes, i was terribly scared coz I had gotten a few spankings).
To make sure aunty wouldn't know, me and Indra (I remeber his name now, he's working as a teacher somewhere today)- we bribed Dinesh Daju (da, or big brother).. we gave him some five Anda mithais (believe me, it wasnt easy to have a batwaara). He complained that night all the same, aunt went and asked the shopkeeper, just to be sure, and then spanked me. Dinesh da didnt have much to be happy about, coz he got spanked too- I told aunty I had given him the sweets.

But honestly, I thank heavens aunty spanked me that day, god knows how i'd have turned out if not.

I love you for still reading this.

I moved out of the camp in April. My mom's friend Eilish baked me a birthday cake on my bday that year, and that was one of the best birthdays i ever had.
And ever since I left the camp, I have been confused. Our entire family was deregistered from the camp in 93 or 94. We stayed outside the camp then. I left the country (that sounds great, dunnit?) in 98, and used to go to nepal hardly thrice ayear. I hardly see my home fifteen days in a year now.

Thats just another reason why I am so confused. While I'm chatting on the internet, I'm perceived to be an indian, I look like one and even talk like one now.
I'm ethnically nepali. I speak nepali, I eat nepali food, say my prayers and dream in that language. And for all that matters, nepal's the country of my forefathers. Its the country my dad was born in. When someone asks me what I am, i say I m nepali.

Bhutan was where i was born, I took my first steps there, uttered my first words there. I remember every detail of the house we lived in before we left. My first friends were in Bhutan. that was where i had my first sickness, that is where i got my polio and BCG and DPT vaccines thats kept me alive all these years. So what if all my relatives and fellow people were driven out from my country? I know there's a part of me that belongs there and there's a part of Bhutan that belongs to me. And if I even cross the Bhutan gate, the sight of the country leaves me with a lump in my throat. The sight of the chicks make me wish i had never left the country and the sight of the fancy cars guys around my age drive (most people in Bhutan, i must tell you are annoyingly rich, wat the hell.. with only six lacs poeple to divide the entire GDP and UN funds among), I wish i was still in there.
But its not just bout the cars and the chicks... why should a hundred thousand people be banished for no apparent reason and have to compromise their sense of belonging? Forget me, there are thousands of people my age and younger than me who have never left the camps. They have no idea what Bhutan meant, they have no idea of how things are in Nepal outside the camp, and they have never been to any other country. Tousands have lost their childhood, thousands have wasted their youth, thousands have passed their old age worrying about tomoro's meal and whether they would be alive to pray in peace, thousands have left all that they worked for and ran away, not knowing where they were running away to, thousands have buried their dead children with their own hands when they couldnt arrange for firewood to burn them, thousands stand in line at ration shops waiting for the UN and Lutheran federation to give them food for the next two weeks, thousands pass the chilling winter with the few sweaters UNHCR gives them, thousands write their class ten board exam knowing they do not have the money to study further, thousands learn Bhutan history, bhutan geography, mug Dzongkha literature and sing the Bhutanese national anthem each morning in silent hopes that they might go back. Thousands of children have never seen life outside the refugee camp and yet say they want to go back to bhutan.
Parents have no idea what they will leave behind for their children, the old have no idea if they will live to die in the orchards and farms they had sweated all their lives for, and the young have no idea what will happen next week. Bhutan says it will never take them back, Nepal cant afford to assimilate them, UN and donor organizations have fed them for sixteen years, they are now running short of funds, adn the rest of the world doesnt even know that such a problem exists.

This is been a long write up. If you have come so far, thank you, honestly, my writing has not gone in waste.
For those who wanted to read bout the part bout Hijras in the end, we met a bunch of Hijras on the train, made them dance and took the video.
I met Chakeela my old friend and gave her back the 5 bucks i had taken from her.

Will write another one soon.
Love you for coming so far.