The Kingdom of Thunder Dragon: Happiness in Despair
Dr. Lakshmi Prasad Dhakal
Amsterdam Netherlands
Today is Easter, a holiday. It relieves me from my responsibilities. It is a reason to make myself lazy, to observe morning growing to day, laying flat on my bed. I chose to ignore my regular schedule and I recline to enjoy emptiness of the day. Through the wide glass panes sneak in tender rays of the sun. They fall on my torso. It is not yet summer and not yet hot. The rays akin to sauna bath spread across my body. The peace and the pleasure, lull me to sweet doze again.
I wake up as bells ring all of the sudden and loud, long and drawn. I hear voice of a crowd but in a low tone. Pulling myself to the balcony, I take a chance. It is the Easter; huge bells swing to and fro. They generate howling noise, setting the periphery of Amsterdam into vibration. The epicenter is in a place called Plain 40-45. Hear stand towers high; which are erected in remembrance of those killed in the Second World War, therefore it’s named Plain (19)40-45. Today, the bells in the towers ring piercing the silence to remember the souls of the victims of World War II.
The Easter bells disturb me. I wake up with nothing to do. I sit in front of television. I see a TV reporter under pressure. He displays horrifying images, human remains, corpses and skeletons. There speak women, men and children. I don’t understand their language. Further, the ringing Easter bells mask their voice making it more difficult to catch the tone of their narration. However their body language, their facial expressions and the content of tears rolling down their eyes set the centre of my emotions higher. It is a story of horror and the happening that is aching. The journalist says, “It is an event that should not have happened. Today is April 7. We are here to speak about it and to remember the horror.” The United Nations had declared this day as the day of remembrance of the victims of the Rwanda genocide. The event took eighteen years before where 800,000 people lost their lives.
Today is a different day. Holy bells ring on one side. On the other, repeatedly like previous years, the slaughtered souls are called back. This is to remember them, as a retreat and in the form of solidarity. All this is in an attempt to work for justice. To the dead souls of slaughtered men and women, wreaths of flowers are laid. People assemble to pray. The event calls the kith and kin of those dead to burst in wailings and to shed tears.
What an incongruent coincidence. The Easter bells sing the language of peace, solidarity and happiness. In contrast the journalist throws strings of questions – why many graveyards on the same day, why many coffins line up at the same time, why children die in piles and why men kill men merciless? The TV presentation is short and gradually tapers to conclusion. Next year this event shall again take place. Like in the previous years, the similar questions shall come to which there are no answers. For one year, till 7 April, exactly like previous years the victims of mass slaughters are left to make their living going. The victims have ventilated and it shall heal their sufferings. Next year, a few more shall get a chance to ventilate their horror and pour their tears down. As the program ends, intrusive thoughts storm in my heart. Thoughts take me back to Bhutan, to the land that I once thought owned.
Till the devil encroached the heart of thunder dragon and infested the mind of the only living Shangrila, we had lived in harmony and with love in our villages. The devil’s implantation of cruelty distorted the perception of the thunder dragon. All of a sudden everything became odd. Judgement started on facial looks, caste and the language spoken. Ethnicity, dress and culture, which never surfaced, became disturbing. Issues of loyalty and nationality attacked the villagers. Like in Rwanda, the kingdom of thunder dragon ripped the friendship, love and cooperation off from the villagers. This not only led to disruption of social fabric of the society but devastated the social harmony and understanding. Destruction and disunity played superior to peace and solidarity. Money purchased people, money divided community, and money laddered the opportunist’s sore to power. With support system falling apart, with local rules dysfunctional, the kingdom of thunder dragon resolves to terrorise the community. We were terrorised. We could not fight back the armed suppression. Uncertain and helpless, with logics failing, laws running selective, with faith in the almighty, the villages began to empty. Rape, torture, indiscriminate detention and intimidation expelled more than 16% population of the kingdom of thunder dragon.
Twenty years have passed. Many changes have taken place in our community and also in the country that once belonged to me. Unable to reason own perpetrations and losing support of his courtiers, the king father stepped down. One after the other, perpetrators leave the scene. To clean the scene of crime, many actions are taken up – villages get new names, districts are reorganised, homes of those who fled are demolished and legal identities are changed. De governing system is on change. Only what doesn’t change is free and fair trails of hundreds of political activists languishing behind the bars and the acknowledgement of the perpetration of ethnic cleansing.
On other hand, very innocent and hiding behind Buddhist philosophy, the kingdom of thunder dragon projects happiness as an agenda. Truly a praiseworthy and valuable lesson learnt through own injustice, discrimination and violation of human rights. It is the insight gained through ethnic cleansing.