Kuenza's Diary

When away from Bhutan, I think of my 65-year old mother. Holding her frail hands and talking to her in Chocha Ngacha gives me more joy than writing about GNH.  But I don’t know when my brothers and I stopped talking to each other in our mother tongue. I speak Tshangla with the three brothers who are educated and live in Thimphu. I always had an uneasy feeling of not knowing whether to speak Tsangla or Chocha Ngacha with them. But with my brother and two sisters in the village, there is no such confusion. The moment we are saying a word, it is that beautiful language I grew up hearing in the sweet, cozy home of my parents.  The second I hear someone speak this language, I find myself all attentive: I get a kind of a feeling that says, ‘here is a person I know.’ Some kind of a natural attachment and closeness draws me to that person and thus a wall between us breaks before we even introduce. I was at ...

I was at the Bank of Bhutan once to send money to my nephew studying in India. The man who stood before me looked hurried and was talking to the staff at the counter in a harsh tone.  The bank staff’s face had worn a garb of gloom by that time.  When my turn came to deposit money, I smiled at the staff. He smiled back.  We had a simple conversation as he dealt business. We exchanged a hearty Tshangla laugh as I left.  And that made my day. I had that incident inscribed in my heart for hours ahead as I juggled GNH-related statistics back in my office.  I realized that if we want to be happy, we can actually create it: a simple smile, an encouraging comment, or a thoughtful moment before you embark on the day can bring happiness.  As you walk to your school, smile or say hi to your friends on the way. If you are passing by a temple or a chorten, you may like to stand for a moment and say a small prayer. And when you ...

I’m attending a meeting on poverty once again, in a nice, warm, hotel. It is winter in Bhutan. I’m early. The registration hasn’t started yet. I however register and go into the conference hall. There are only two or three conference organizers and no participants from outside. I take a seat at the second row – the chairs are arranged in a semi-circle as is usually done for a meeting. As I take my seat, I see a notepad, a file, and a book – the title of the book glares at me, leaving me rather uncomfortable. It reads, “COMBATING HUNGER” and below it is these words, “ABOLISH HUNGER – IT IS POSSIBLE.” The ‘O’ in Abolish is a picture of a pot with something in it. I think it represents cereal/food. As I look at it longer, it sinks in me that there are people around the world who are going hungry, everyday, and dying because of it. I will not do any kind of analysis of why there is extreme poverty such as not having even enough food for survival. Bu...