{"id":7255,"date":"2012-02-19T11:52:20","date_gmt":"2012-02-19T10:52:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bhutaneseliterature.com\/?p=7255"},"modified":"2012-02-19T12:02:10","modified_gmt":"2012-02-19T11:02:10","slug":"the-day-of-eviction","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bhutaneseliterature.com\/the-day-of-eviction\/","title":{"rendered":"The day of Eviction"},"content":{"rendered":"

Hom Pokhrel
\nNorth Dakota, USA
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

I had heard from my parents that Bhutan was a golden box – a safer place to live, but it was not true for me. After almost nine years since the death of my mother, I had to be evicted from my homeland – the place of birth and the place where I was gr0wn up. It still appears like a film reel. The moment I had to leave my home is a vivid memory which I will never forget in my entire life. Indeed, it was the most challenging, tough and dangerous situation of my life.<\/p>\n

For many Bhutanese families, the early 90’s were very difficult. A wave of political crisis spread like fire across the southern belt where the absolute monarchy had locked the mouth of Nepali origin Bhutanese and hundreds of thousands were evicted forcefully out of the country.<\/p>\n

Yaba, a sub-rural village in the Samchi district, was a home of several families since 1907 and even before the Wangchuck dynasty had started ruling the dragon kingdom. \u201cYour grandfather was fifty when he brought me here,\u201d said my dad. He did not know how old he was when he came but he had spent all his life in developing this place.<\/p>\n

The greenery of mountains Durpenae to the east, Batase to the northeast and Sambekha to the south had added extra beauty to this area. The Dikchhu River flows from the north and joins with the Torsa River to the south of the village. Two miles to the north of the junction is a tiny village called Kimbutar where my family lived in a two-storey house. It was on the base of a sloppy hill. Made with stone walls and roofed with sheets of Fargesia robusta\u00a0 (clumping bamboo), this had been home for several decades. On either side were two shady tall trees that used to provide shade during summer days, support for climbers and fodder for cattle. The soothing and calm sounds of the live stream behind the yard helped to maintain tranquility, peace and jollity. Anyone would feel relaxed with the calm and soothing breeze on a summer day and chirping of birds during spring.<\/p>\n

But one evening a sad, terrifying and shocking event occurred in this beautiful place. It was Monday, March 16, 1992. The sun was hiding in the horizon and dusk was approaching. My dad was just back after visiting Nopey Mandal (head of village) who owed us Ngultrum 10,000 for cardamom and was changing dress. My older brother, who had elephantiasis, was taking care of pets outside. Hurriedly, he ran in. \u201cArmy! Army! Run away! \u201d he said. \u00a0Dad peeked through the window.<\/p>\n

\u201cNopey, the same guy who had taken our cardamom is coming with army. He must have come to arrest so that he did not have to pay for the cardamom.\u201d he said. Dad and I climbed upstairs.<\/p>\n

The group came like a whirl-wind dusting the air with guns hung on their shoulders. Somehow, we managed to escape from the back window to the wheat field. No sooner had we escaped, than they surrounded our house. Lying flat on the field and holding our breath we watched closely. Some climbed upstairs and were searching thoroughly while some ran to the neighbor\u2019s house. One came very close to me and shone torch light but fortunately he did not see us. My heart was pounding and I felt as if it was the last breath of my life. I could hear the loud, rude roar threatening my brother and asking him to show dad. I was terrified because these were stone-hearted wild beasts and were as fierce as lions. Several daughters were raped in front of their parents, wives in front of their husbands and innocents killed for no reason. I felt bad for my brother because he was deceived by nature (big leg) and victimized for no cause. With the fear of getting arrested, slowly we crawled forward to the stream next to the field and walked up to the sloppy hill and hid among the mulberry bush. I took a long breath and thanked god for protecting us from the wild beasts. Dad was praying to god with two hands folded. The army was still searching for us on the fields.<\/p>\n

I had worn a light T-shirt and shorts. Dad was wearing a vest. When the thorn pinched my feet, I realized that I was bare foot and so was Dad. Bacteria started fighting in our belly because we had not eaten since that morning. The smell of food from people\u2019s homes caused my saliva to drip down. So, we ate some mulberry and stayed there until the moon rose.<\/p>\n

Then, we moved up to the hill over our home. On twilight, we could see the wheat field where we had made our way through. I heard \u201cthe baw, baw and maw, maw\u201d sound produced by the cow and the calf. It was time to milk, but who is going to do that? I questioned myself. I looked at dad and saw tears rolling down his cheeks. He said, \u201cWe cannot stay here anymore.” ” If we get arrested, we will decay in the dark jail without seeing sunlight and with inhumane torture,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n

A tsunami of thoughts occurred in my mind. We had no plan of leaving, no notification in advance. We left all belongings. There was no chance to sell property or valuables. No destination. No penny on hand. I looked down towards the house and the field again. I saw leaves on the trees waving. I felt as if I was being bidden farewell. A sudden breeze of air brought the smell of mustard from the field. The brown colored wheat was almost ready to be harvested. The mustard was blossoming. The buzzing of bees during the day would feel like a melody coming from somewhere and the live stream where I played with water – all these indelible memories haunted me. I was missing these forever. With all these thoughts, I was dreaming. The army was still there. Dad told me to go. Finally, I picked a pinch of soil, put it on my pocket and waved my hand to say final goodbye to my home, the wheat field we hid in, my playfields and the path I walked. Then, we walked away and away. The further we were, the more the thoughts I had. We had a long trek. We walked through woods and big jungles all night and the next day without food and water, and no sleep. The following day, we crossed the border to India desolately.<\/p>\n

Thank god, nothing bad happened to my brother. He said that the army confiscated everything and tortured him. A week later we had family reunion in Jiti Boarder (India) and headed towards Nepal with new hope of life because India would not allow us to stay there.<\/p>\n

Twenty years have elapsed; the world has gone through lots of changes. Saddham Hussan and Gadafi are gone; Gyanendra is no more in power. There is shift of power in Bhutan and establishment of so-called democracy, but we have not been able to go back. Instead, we are driven to another part of the world. Though I am at arm\u2019s length, I reach to my homeland in dreams. I play in the same wheat field that I hid, I get to the mulberry and hang around, and I play in the hay field. The sweet memories of my early childhood are deeply ingrained in my mind such that I am never going to forget them. That was my ancestral home, the home where I was born and grown up. I missed my home and my fields a lot, the only places that remain in my heart. This quotation always intermingles in my mind, \u201cEast or west, home is the best\u201d.<\/p>\n

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