This is inspired by a conversation I had with few of my friends while enjoying the the cold Mayel Lyang chill way up in the Deolo hill. My friend a rongkup to the heart, educated in English schools and spent the most part of his young life enjoying what modernism has to offer. It seems he along with some of his non-rongkup friends had gone for an excursion to the higher reaches of Dzongu. There in the middle of the rich nature he suddenly found his element. He climbed the trees and swung on the creepers as if he had been doing so right from his birth. He jumped the bushes and ran along the narrow path with all dexterity of a local. His joy knew no bounds as he realized his connection to the nature and his instincts came alive. His friends, of course the urban lot, did not fancy his desires and were apprehensive every time he took a dangerous swing or climbed the highest branches. Some one in the group exclaimed-"hey jungle boy". My friend with all his enthusiasm found this remark insulting and took it to heart. The remaining part of the lovely excursion saw himself controlling his wishes to run in the jungles around him. His story ended here and well mine begins right here.
He laid questions for us-why was he so free and content doing the wild things while his friends thought it was foolish and dangerous? Why did he feel so comfortable and at peace while doing things which would have given his loving mother a heart attack? Above all where had he learned to do those dangerous stunts when all he can remember of his childhood was a guava tree and that too a fall from which had given him 15 days of plaster of paris in the right hand.? The questions were many yet the answer was one.This is what we realized- come on it was not him but his Rongkup instincts taking over. It’s those hidden genes in him that danced with joy on seeing the return to the nature. It’s the spirit of his ancestors welcoming him home-the home of all Rongkups-the rich forests of the Himalayas where our ancestors thrived.
Now let me relate another example of my life. I have a Rongkup neighbour, happily married to a Nepali lady with two children and a nice Government job. The journey of life running smooth with the usual bumps here and there. But come weekend he some how manages to escape from his home and family and you don’t find him anywhere. He just is not there or even anywhere I can imagine. This remained a mystery to me during my childhood. Where did he go during the weekend and how come he is back every Monday morning with all his cheer and smiles? Then finally I came to know about his weekend whereabouts much later. There he was all alone, with his fishing rod lazying in the warm sunshine of the river. He did not have a family to feed with his catch yet it was with sense of urgency he left home every Friday evening with all his fishing gear. The only question that arose in my urban mind was why would anyone with such a hectic week take up the tedious task of walking down to the river be it hail or rain instead of sitting at home and enjoying the channels. The answer dawned on me when I myself sat by the river with a borrowed fishing hook with the bait dangling in shallow parts of Rongnyu Ung. There was no greater joy then. Me, the gentle gurgling of the Ungkyoungs and silence of the forests disturbed here and there by the occasional birds calling out to their mates. I invited my Kunchu and Kunyoung friends to share the tranquil and to my surprise they found it dull and boring. Then I realized its not me who wants to be in the river but the Rongkup in me who begs me to return to my home. And how the Rongkup in me rejoiced as I waded along the shallow waters digging under the slippery rocks for hidden crabs!
He laid questions for us-why was he so free and content doing the wild things while his friends thought it was foolish and dangerous? Why did he feel so comfortable and at peace while doing things which would have given his loving mother a heart attack? Above all where had he learned to do those dangerous stunts when all he can remember of his childhood was a guava tree and that too a fall from which had given him 15 days of plaster of paris in the right hand.? The questions were many yet the answer was one.This is what we realized- come on it was not him but his Rongkup instincts taking over. It’s those hidden genes in him that danced with joy on seeing the return to the nature. It’s the spirit of his ancestors welcoming him home-the home of all Rongkups-the rich forests of the Himalayas where our ancestors thrived.
Now let me relate another example of my life. I have a Rongkup neighbour, happily married to a Nepali lady with two children and a nice Government job. The journey of life running smooth with the usual bumps here and there. But come weekend he some how manages to escape from his home and family and you don’t find him anywhere. He just is not there or even anywhere I can imagine. This remained a mystery to me during my childhood. Where did he go during the weekend and how come he is back every Monday morning with all his cheer and smiles? Then finally I came to know about his weekend whereabouts much later. There he was all alone, with his fishing rod lazying in the warm sunshine of the river. He did not have a family to feed with his catch yet it was with sense of urgency he left home every Friday evening with all his fishing gear. The only question that arose in my urban mind was why would anyone with such a hectic week take up the tedious task of walking down to the river be it hail or rain instead of sitting at home and enjoying the channels. The answer dawned on me when I myself sat by the river with a borrowed fishing hook with the bait dangling in shallow parts of Rongnyu Ung. There was no greater joy then. Me, the gentle gurgling of the Ungkyoungs and silence of the forests disturbed here and there by the occasional birds calling out to their mates. I invited my Kunchu and Kunyoung friends to share the tranquil and to my surprise they found it dull and boring. Then I realized its not me who wants to be in the river but the Rongkup in me who begs me to return to my home. And how the Rongkup in me rejoiced as I waded along the shallow waters digging under the slippery rocks for hidden crabs!
Jeff i am happy at last you came up with something and going through the lines of this article i could feel your sentiments and obsession for Rongkups and i wish to see more of your love for Rongkup pour through this medium...waiting for your next post.
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