My Sunshine

Waktsa ma ne la phai sang me la: these words that I heard keep coming back to me these days. It means, that the home would be dead in silence without children; it also leans towards meaning that it would be dry without any joy. My five year old son Tshewang has always been so curious. He had non stop 'why' questions that it would become impossible for me to answer sometimes but I never once snubbed it off as meaningless. However, once he started school, he became so quiet and he was on his iPad all the time. Oh, while I did not cut him off from asking questions, I did tell him not to talk to strangers or to touch other kids. This was purely because I wasn't sure about the culture we are in. When you do not understand the culture you are thrown in, you do not know what is right and wrong when it comes to interacting with people from that culture. There was also an incident at the park where he wanted to play with a little girl and he kept following her and tried holding her hands and his father was all snarky and asked him not to touch her. Are you serious? I didn't know that was offensive. That made me angry and I told Tshewang not to touch, gritting my teeth. So when he became quiet, I thought these kind of incidents might have had an impact and I was kind of blaming myself -- as parents always do for everything that happens. 

What is worse. It wasn't until I met his teacher for learning conversation (a parents-teachers meeting to talk about how your child is settling in) that I knew his name was being called wrong. His teacher called him, 'T - shewang'. After I told her that it is 'Tshewang', she calls him, 'Teswang'. So he goes, 'My name is Tshewang, but Tiffany says, 'Teswang'. It is not just his teachers, it is all his classmates who call him Teswang. And before that it was T-shewang by all of them. He hasn't fully yet settled at school but he is getting better. Once when I asked him why he did not want to go to school, he said he was shy when his friends call him. I guess it has to do with them saying his name wrong. But I can't help that. They just can't say, 'Tshe' and 'Lha'. I now understand why some names known as Tshewang were spelled Chewang. 

But I am glad to say that he has gone back to being his usual self. He talks -- a lot, especially with me. He has matured a lot too. He does not talk at school. He does not interact with his friends. His teacher is concerned about this. But I told her that looking back, I think I was like that too. I was quiet. I was shy. But I was all okay with people I was comfortable with. So he will be okay. She even seemed to indicate that he might be having some learning problem. But I don't think so. I never actively tried introducing him to writing or drawing. So I told his teacher that I do not expect a lot. I would be happy even if he can hold his pencil to write. He can write his name. He can copy and write the letters. He can count to 10 without mistake. He skips two numbers when he counts till 20. All children learn in different ways. I am happy to let him find his best way to learn and to give him the time he needs. Maybe his classmates are ahead. But I am not worried that he has to catch up. He will find his own way. I am all too aware of how we often rush into putting a name to every tiny shortcoming we feel people have. His brother had learned to read fluently before we knew how he did and maybe that is the kind of magic we think we will see. Or not. He is only five and he has only just begun. I do not see the hurry. 

This morning after we went for the grocery shopping, my daughter wanted to get her nails done and he chose to wait with me instead of going home with daddy. When I said that he might be 'na ka ney kay' while walking home, he said he wouldn't. And he wasn't. While we had to wait for about an hour, he just sat with me, talking. There was a boy, maybe one or two years younger than him shouting and running around at the mall. I said, 'you can run around too' and he answered, 'No, I don't want to shout', in that matter of fact grown up way. 

I was pushed to write about him today because of this conversation we had as we walked home from the mall after her sister, Ana Dechen had her nail done:

He asks the names of all the roads as we walk. Dechen asked, 'what road are we on?' I didn't know she was asking him, so I answered but mistakenly said the wrong name. Tshewang corrected me. 

I said, 'my brain is not working.' When Dechen asked, 'why is mummy's brain not working?' Tshewang's response was, 'because she is growing old. I know it because I am growing up.'

I wish I could capture the surrounding, the mood and the tone so that you can actually imagine it exactly as it happened. For a mother whose heart is too soft and gets happy at every small thing my children say, this squeezed my heart in joy and I just felt that I must record it somehow. 

There was another incident that gave me a huge snap of joy this morning. We are at the table, eating breakfast. I said, I was happy that Rigzin (his brother) woke me up this morning to take him to toilet and I did not go back to bed after that. I said I would not have been able to get breakfast ready on time if I did that. Tshewang remarked, 'Well done for you for dong that? Now you get a tick.' I affirmed that yes, it was good that I didn't do it and I got a tick. It is interesting how he is bringing his understanding of the world into our everyday life and making sense of it.

So, we go like this every day: 'Am I your sunshine?' 'Yes'.

"I am your best friend?' 'Yes.'

'I am kuluuuuuuukchiiiii?' 'Yes.'

And then he asks, 'why did you choose me from the sky, is it because I am a Bhutanese?' [Just for the sake of simplicity, when he asked me where he was when we looked at pictures or videos before he was born, I told him that he was in the sky. ] I tell him that it is because he is just so kulukchi phangku that we wanted him as a brother to his Ata and Ana. And we just weave ourselves in this tale of love, over and over again, everyday. 

I melt in this warmth and I find that life cannot be more beautiful. 

He also says, 'When I grow up, I am gonna be a doctor. I am gonna save people. I am gonna take care of you?' One time he even told me that he will also have to help me cook because I will not be able to do it. There was one time when he had question around growing old. He asked me, 'What will happen when you are old? Will you grow up again?' He cried when I told him that I will die after growing old. He said, 'No, I don't want you to die', which is totally fair. I guess this is my way of finding those moments of joy in life and stringing them together to a life of purpose. I tell myself that it does not have to be grand. I just want him and his siblings to feel loved. I hope there will never be a time when they feel that we did not love them enough and I would have fulfilled my purpose.