A man who has lived meditating all his life is in Thimphu to visit his son. Finding that Thimphu isn’t a place for him, he soon wants to leave. One morning, he is at the Thimphu Bus Station. He gets into the bus; and just as soon, he comes out to ask someone nearby if he is in the right bus. He sees this cocky, young man, standing near the bus, a cigarette in his right hand, looking around condescendingly. The Tshampa asks the young man, “Young man, is this the bus to Lhuntse?” The boy looks squarely on the face of the Tshampa and replies, “Why would I know? I’m not the bus driver. Go over there and ask someone!”
For the person who asked this question, it meant nothing. He didn’t even think it was harsh. But to the observers nearby, it was a scornful behavior. For a young man like him, even if he was from very rich parents, it only showed his shallowness. But that was that.
When an observer remarks that he should be behaving better than that, he replies, “I don’t care!” with suppressed scorn.
I am yet another helpless spectator; I can only pray that all these young people will come to see the world better than they do now.