For some reason, I am contemplating over the life of Nelson Mandela today – a man who lived and led by example. And the poem that kept his spirit aflame in his miserable times in a prison for 18 years with the floor as his bed and a bucket as his loo weighs heavily on me now.

I am baffled by this piece of news on Kuensel website titled “Dies at 112” that ends with this line :

“The centenarian was a teatotaler and stayed away from tobacco.”

Does it mean that the guy never touched tea in all his fortunate 112 years of good life? Things are supposed to take a competitive edge by now, with several private newspapers bustling around.

Logically, the world advances with time – where people specialize into a line of interest and then everybody fits together like a box of tool creating the perfect system. Going by the news, and by this, the news that disappoint more often than delight, not to mention the conveyors of news delivering it in half sleep, the saws in Bhutan are pretending to be hammers and the hammers saws and thus, what is supposed to be cut is rammed and what needs ramming gets cut.

Honestly, who needs brilliance in Bhutan? Perhaps all we need is a talent with knots so we can patch them who we think can help us? Everybody seems to need fast deliverance by another’s backing and his social standing is measured by the number of people with power who has the time to attend his grand funeral.

I am suffering from a mild indigestion at the moment because of the bitter pill – that an honest man who stands on his feet by the merit of his own capability is increasingly becoming a rare species!
A week or two after we squeezed in into a friend’s dwelling here, a friend lost all his valuables – thousands of dollars, laptop, passport, external drive and even the pair of jeans that he had neatly kept on the table next to his bed that night. A lot of aboriginals live in the locality and it went without saying who caused our friend’s loss and the numerous headaches thereafter.