I was admitted to Shingkhar Primary School in 1997. The school is quite far. It would take atleast three hours to reach from my village. The way is very rugged through thick forests and fast flowing rivers. It becomes more dangerous for school children during monsoons. Therefore, I was admitted as one of boarding students.
Actually my parents intended to send me Phumethang Dratshang to study religious scriptures and become a monk. The intention was aborted by my brother, who was a monk in it that time. He didn’t want me, thinking of the nuisance involved in taking care of me.
The reporting dates for Shingkhar School students and monks of Phumethang Dratshang coincided. My parents arranged everything for both of us: my brother and me. My parents wanted me to go with my brother but he wanted me to go school. There was long argument and my brother hurriedly went out of the house carrying his baggage.
I was confused. Yet little did I know before that school mean full of plays and Dratshang full of spanks and thrashings. I uttered to go Shingkhar School. Therefore, along with other parents and friends, I was escorted by my father to be admitted in the school.
During those days, it was one of the mandates of parents to report the school authority to get their children registered or get registered through Tshogpas with the details ten days before opening of the school. But my parents have done neither of them. Everybody in the group has done their mandates. So the biggest doubt ahead was whether there would be a seat or not.
I have never gone out of my village before. Walking with my friends in group interested me. On arrival to school, I saw students playing ball. This interested me more making me wish to do many things if I were given the admission. My father holding my hand ushered me in a small room where there was a man sitting in front of the table. The man was the school Headmaster, which I knew only much later.
My father and the headmaster greeted each other and talked for few minutes. The headmaster was fluent in our dialect making me get contents of their dialogues. After few moments “luckily,” the headmaster said flipping pages of a file, “there is one seat left, and so he can be admitted.”
These words fell like a bang on the table bringing all my senses together! My joy knew no bound. I could not imagine of my joy of always playing on the big ground. My father was also very happy, I sensed through his smiling sigh. I joined the mass of tumultuous students with delight immediately.
I came school just to play ball at beginning (picture source:Google)
My father stayed watching me play from the corner of the ground among other parents. I could read his smile when I kicked and rolled the ball among my friends. In evening, my father went back home with parents of my friends. I didn’t feel the pain of departing with my dad as I enjoyed playing among my new friends, like few of my friends who cried invariably.
I opened my eyes to the fantasy of school in this way. Therefore, initially I went school out of my interest to play balls which cohesively held me until I know the true purpose of being in the school. It was only after third standard that I could realize that school is not just a place where I can only play.
I still remember the words and gestures of the school headmaster. This moment is my most cherished instinctual possession. It is carved in my brain. Now I thank gods for reserving one seat for me and the Headmaster Mr. Ugyen Pemba who compassionately offered that one seat for me. I still thank my brother for his refusal which actually turned benchmark in the journey of my education.
Since then my perceptions of school have changed-the fondness to play more slowly faded away and lust to learn more encroached in my mind. In the process I have enjoyed many success, glories, accolades and fortunes but nothing of these things would bid higher than the moment of ‘receiving that seat’!
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