In my capacity as the Head of Export Section of the Export Division, Ministry of Trade, Industries and Forests, I had to be posted in Kolkata, India. As a landlocked country without access to our own seaport, under a Trade & Transit Agreement with the Government of India, we used, as we still do, India’s Calcutta Port as our port of loading and discharge - for most of our Export/Import cargo.
One night sometime in 1982/1983, I got very late coming home from a dinner engagement. The main Entry Gate to my building was locked and so I could not take my car inside into the covered Parking Lot - I was forced to park it outside on the street.
The following morning, I went to start the car to head for office - but there was not a squeak from the car’s engine - the engine simply would not fire up. I opened the car’s bonnet to take a peek inside - only to find that the car’s battery was missing - it had simply disappeared!
While I looked on in consternation, a Bengali Babu happened to pass by. He wanted to know what was wrong with the car. I told him that someone had stolen my car’s battery in the night.
“Bah re bah …. Aapne khoob bhagyaban manoosh" (You are an extremely lucky man).
“Aapni kii bolte chan?” (What are you trying to say?)
“Mathalaab – whoever that idiot thief was, he took only a battery. If I were the one passing by yesterday night and had found the car parked here, I would have stripped your car bare of all the four tires, and the spare one, including the battery and that jazzy Fog Lamp”.
With a wicket smirk on his face, the thug sauntered off – leaving me totally rattled! I mean how did the thief manage to gain access to the battery, without any visible signs of a break-in?
The above four-decades old incident came flooding back to me because yesterday afternoon I went through an incident that was similar, and yet completely contradictory, at Thimphu’s Kaja Throm.
I had run out of Lemons for my morning cuppa and thus had gone to the Kaja Throm to buy some. After foraging through over 30 shops, I finally ended up with a shop that had the kind of Lemons I prefer. I made my selection of a number of Lemons from the pile - but the storekeeper was no were to be seen. I waited, and waited and waited …. No sign of the storekeeper.
After more than half an hour had passed, the Lhotsampa lady at the nearby shop seems to have noticed that I was waiting and waiting and waiting …. She came over and asked:
"You have been waiting here for an awfully long time … is there something that you are interest in in this shop? The lady storekeeper went across the river for some work … looks like she is going to be a while. Maybe I can help".
"I want to buy these Lemons …. "
"You can have them …. She charges Nu.100.00 per 10 pieces …."
"But how do I pay for them?"
"You can leave the money with me …. I will pass it on to her".
"OK".
As I walked away from the market …. I was perturbed … how could any person leave her store unattended for such long periods of time? Isn’t she worried that people might walk away with her stuff?
And that, it dawned on me, was at the core of the matter ---- Bhutan is perhaps the only place in the world today where you can leave your store unattended for hours at a stretch - without the fear that someone might rob it. Think of it …. where else can you feel this level of safety and security – of peace and tranquility ….?
It is for this reason - the dread that things are going wrong - that people like us take courage to ring the alarm bells - to rouse the sounds of reason …. to plead for course correction.
Like I told one NBC broadcaster some years back - no doubt that Bhutan is as unique as every other country on this planet. But we do realize that there is simply no way that we can bypass the trodden path - like every other human being elsewhere, we too shall eventually get where everyone else is – in the rut!
Our attempt, in the meanwhile, is to delay the process - for as long as we possibly can.
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