Picture
The protagonist in the story
He was a SHEPHERD- A Commander Indeed

A guy was brought up to manhood by his socio-economically handicapped parents survived in remote jungles of East-Bhutan. Inherently, the family has neither hegemonic status nor valuable assets from their ancestors and the hand-to-mouth existence on the small plot of barren soil coupled with ever green rocks in abundance defeated the very purpose of the living of a young man.

Most frequently, he was a shepherd of some capitalistic men commanding their flock of sheep to various directions-the only platform where his superiority of being human is recognized.  His day’s destination with the animals would be briefed by the concern owner and, the transfer of rights and authority to guide the animals happens immediately after the orders ceases to flow out of the host’s mouth. Wrapped with ragged robs, a young man would make a start by sounding a buffalo horn hung diagonally across his weak shoulder – a melancholic sound that cherishes the emotions of his innocent animals. Then, he would lead the marching animals in a perfect line like the disciplined cops in the guard of honor.
Gradually, his visibility in the village campus diminishes as he goes further and further, and his few neighbors never misses to watch him disappearing in a dusty air of the faraway horizons. They would still prefer to spend a minute or two regularly; enjoying the serene scene of a young boy marching away with his disabled cops to win an unknown war, which eventually reminds them the famous non-fictional Bhutanese tale of “Pemey Tshewang Tashi”. The half melted neighbors would gaze his tragic departure every day like a modernist watching 3-D movies at climax, and they would not resume their works till he disappears among the woods and grasses.

He would love to reach the animals as low as to the extreme bottom of the valley and as high as to the mountain tops that kisses the blue sky. The varying tones- blaaa--- me-ley-ley- typical choruses from the grazing creature induces an emotional urge to sing a lonesome classical song, when he wait to make his animals enjoy the taste of morning grasses.
Sometimes, this nomadic group encounters with a pool of little green shoots freshly rooted over a gentle slope, by matter of luck. As a result, there is a sudden retardation in their tireless movements whereby his poor creatures get sunk into the meadow for a considerable period providing enough time for a young commander to locate a perfect elevated rock, that overlook those hundreds of horned heads immersed in a sea of grasses.
By the time he ascended on the rocky throne, he would have already switched-on his ash-coloured Philip electronic- an only device where his true happiness is celebrated irrespective of his emotional variationsSharchop layrim  to him was only the comprehensible program at that point of time and he never regret to spend few hours with the program, which otherwise he could have accomplish some  other important works
The electronic- his only non-living friend would sound;
“…kuzu zangpo. Thimphu druk ga jangdra thrue khang nang kai, Tshering Dema gi neytshil dhang chhabdra, nee zakar za ngen zhu wa tshing gey, thuk tro ngang bak rim pa zhin dhu ani omey chhutshey sey sakpa zhu ley...” It goes on and on and on. On and on to a peak volume breaking the mundane silence of the surroundings.

For the mean time, he would exercise his authority sanctioned by his BOZZ at home to those violators commanding them to get back to the group. He yells to the maximum pitch, to enable the beatings of the eardrums of those stereotyped creatures repelled from the rest of a dignified group so as to make them bounded by the Code of Conduct of the sheep as enacted and amended by their super Head. Disobedience to his oral commands would soon be followed by the rigorous storming of stones on their heads.

After bringing peace and order in the area, he would further his hearing to the program on air, only to realize that he missed the entire news and other stuffs. Now the host at station declared, “…..thuk tro ngang ba key bu, go ma rang,… Duptho Zangmo gi jang pa ngang, ‘tabu chho ley mawa…’ nyen sen nang sho ani zhu ley…..” He was so pleased to enjoy the melancholy of the said song and he immediately raises the electronic high above the ground to locate the most efficient frequency, as the radio-coverage in his place was weak at that time. He was so engrossed with the song and he was much carried away by the tune just to find himself driven into a deep sleep.
The awesome woven white clouds of the day began to condense to the summer rain at dusk and his sudden consciousness comes into force when a first droplet of chilly rain hits his forehead. Then he would jump off the rock in a strike of the lightening to be only saddened by the scattered animals. Immediately, he would run to every direction to gather his subjects, making them ready for the evening march towards the palace where their ultimate authoritarian BOZZ resides.

Now their King would question as to why they made the late return. The commander of the group would come forward and apologize him with proper justifications and he would slowly find the way to his home. This was his ‘childhood’ days and he still recollects those memories to see his past journey. Now he thinks that, those hardships had really compensated him to elevate to the present height. 

Thank You.   

    Author's Corner

    JIGME GYALTSHEN
    A tough daydreamer, an enthusiastic music lover, a regular face-booker and a passionate photographer keep writing his thoughts and perspectives to cherish his memories and to keep his exciting life going with the sense of much contentment accrued from the stupid narrations of the world around him.


    Bhutan- National Anthem

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