The Secret and Sacred of our Elections

Introduction

Between the announcement of surprise names, people jumping lines to be presidents of political parties, and failed registration of new parties by some seeming novices, there is a lot of confusion among the majority of the electorate. What the hell is going on? Many seem to be asking. Many are unable to fathom the difference between the NC and NA – forget the elections! Against this backdrop, I thought I would share my own grasps and musings.

Disclaimer: The write-up in this blog story is based on my own understanding and knowledge and is intended for light reading. Both facts and imagination have been used to build up the story. There is no malice intended towards any individual or organisation.

The Basics

With the introduction of constitutional monarchy in 2008, Bhutan has a bicameral parliament, with elections to both the houses held every five years. The upper house is known as National Council (NC), while the lower house is called National Assembly (NA).

The NC is an apolitical house of review. It consists of 25 members, one from each of the twenty districts of Bhutan and five eminent members nominated by His Majesty the King. Each of the Geogs (village blocks) in a Dzongkhag (district) nominates a candidate. If a Geog has more than one candidate, the candidates face election at the Geog level in order to move to the Dzongkhag level to face candidates from other Geogs. On the other hand, if a Geog has only one candidate, his/her election is done through a yes/no vote. However, it is not mandatory for a Geog to nominate a candidate for the NC elections. For example, in the upcoming NC elections, Samdrup Jongkhar doesn’t have a candidate from as many as four Geogs.   

On the other hand, the NA consists of elected members from the 47 constituencies that Bhutan has been divided into. ‘Before selecting your bulls, select the herd.’ I remember hearing my late father share this with his colleagues while I was a farm boy. In a way, elections to the NA bear a parable to my late father’s wisdom.

Elections to the NA are held in two rounds. The first is the primary round, which involves the electorate voting for the party of their choice. Bhutan has at least four parties contesting the upcoming NA elections. In the primary round, eligible voters vote for the party of their choice and two parties with the highest number of nationwide votes qualify for the general round held subsequently. People cast their votes on the basis of party leadership, manifesto as well as the tentative candidates for the various constituencies. In the primary round, voters select the proverbial herd to ensure that the eventual bulls bear good pedigrees.

In the general elections, each of the two parties that has emerged victorious in the primaries nominates a candidate for every constituency. At this stage, the farmer moves deeper within the herd and starts selecting his bulls. The general round is driven by the vigour, verbosity and veracity of the candidates representing the various constituencies. At the end of the election, 47 candidates from either of the two parties win the election. The party winning the majority of the constituencies gets to form the government. The other party forms the opposition in the NA.

Daju, Bhauju and I after casting our votes for the NC elections - we are displaying our Voter Photo ID Cards

Voting is compulsory

A quick read of Internet sources says that in barely 13% of the countries around the world voting is compulsory. And many countries don’t enforce it. Interestingly, Australia is among the countries where voting is compulsory! Bhutan belongs to the major league, where voting is optional.  

In 2008, I failed to convince my wife that voting was not compulsory. Smarting from the after-effects of the turmoil of the nineties, she chose to ignore my advice and pleads and travelled to Neoly with other like-minded voters.

I have a feeling that many people still don’t believe that voting is not compulsory. Thus, fear makes the mare go! People are dragged to their constituencies out of fear. Fear, in this case, is good. As many voters live and work far from their polling booths, exercising franchise involves expense of time and money. For example, if I travel to my constituency (Shiling Gye, Pemathang) I need a minimum of five days of time and Ngultrum 20,000, which is a sizeable portion of my monthly income.

However, eligible citizens must make enough efforts to cast their vote. I believe that the state must come half way in terms of creating the right atmosphere and accessibility to voters, with citizens covering the other half. In spite of some limitations and strictures, the Election Commission of Bhutan has been improving acceptance, accessibility and approval to encourage citizens to vote. For example, the Postal Ballot Facilitation Booths set up in various locations in several districts for the NC elections allowed the likes of me to ‘vote in person’. As such, it is not ok if you do not vote. You are not fulfilling your fundamental duties. You are not acting as a responsible citizen.

Voting may not be compulsory, but then as W Edwards Deming is said to have said even survival is not compulsory!  A distant cousin of mine recently asked me, ‘kaka, I believe they will keep a record of voters and then one day those who do not vote will be punished’. My answer didn’t convince him.  If you have not committed a crime, not committing it for a long time, doesn’t make you a criminal!

Elections and GNH

Whether elections enhance or stymie happiness depends on the lens you use to analyse the issue.

Take the lens of my young cousins who have been given away in marriage out of Neoly and live in faraway places - Sarpang and Dorokha. Even as elections are announced, my cousins take the opportunity to return home, even for a fleeting moment, a sojourn. They always use the pretext of the elections to visit their parental homes and reunite with their parents and siblings. If we were to measure happiness around elections time in such homes, probably we would beat Norway. Meanwhile, I hope my nieces and others who believe in voting will have plenty of time and resources to travel thrice to their constituencies in 2018, as the NC elections will be followed by the primary and the general round of the NA elections.

The other is a stormier lens. Take the example of two NC candidates in Tsirang. They are first cousins and got nominated from their respective Geog. While they are busy canvassing and honing their national language, their families have stopped visiting each other even as they try to muster support for their respective prospect. That deludes happiness.

Secret ballot and open secrets  

The fundamentals of democracy are universal adult franchise and secret ballot. Not sacred as some of our Facebookers are wont to believe betraying their carelessness and limited lexicon.  The essence and understanding of ‘secret’ allow our uneducated electorate to vote without fear and favour.

It is more important for ballots to be secret than sacred, even if we believe in the purification of our Electronic Voting Machines by our monks. There should be no emotion in politics. Your vote should be based on objective choice. Go for selection by elimination, if you don’t know any of the candidate, but vote you must!  

My elder sister called me the other day from far away Neoly. ‘Kanchha’, she enquired, ‘Phuntsho wants to take us to Daifam in his Bolero. What should we do?’ She was referring to an upcoming wedding of one of my nephews in Daifam and Phuntsho is apparently one of the ‘king makers’ in local politics.  I told her to go ahead and make hay while the sun shines. By now even my barely educated relatives in the village have come to understand that no one would after all know who they have voted for.

Similarly, the other day I received a call from an unregistered number. After introducing himself, Dawa invited me to come to the town ‘later in the evening’. I was confused and a bit annoyed. My wife even suggested, ‘who is bigger? He or you? Who is he to just call you to town?’  Later I understood that Dawa was acting like a ‘pimp’ to a brothel. A political candidate that he was patronizing had come to know that some twenty of us living in Thimphu enjoy a significant influence in our community. He intended to throw a dinner by way of getting to know each other. I checked with my brother and uncle. We went, met the pimp and his political bunny and enjoyed a scrumptious dinner. The ballot is, after all, secret!

Public Holiday

What I like the most about our elections is the holidays. I am a big fan of holidays and have a knack for memorizing the entire calendar of public holidays on January first itself. As postal voters, I and my wife get to vote in advance. With the election day comes a public holiday. However, as I have no voting to do – I get an extra day of full paid holiday. Thank you, democracy!

Endnote: ‘Everyone knows who we should be voting for. The trouble is no one knows who this ‘everyone’ is? People of Bhutan, do vote; you have nothing to lose except your franchise!

Krishna and Kaali

Foreword: As we see the final hours of 2017, I have penned down a short reflection from the old year. I hope you will enjoy reading it. I hope to continue to share my thoughts with you into the new year. Many thanks for reading and liking my works. Happy New Year and Thank you for reading!

If Kaali was a subject to be studied in schools, she would probably be Geography. Everyone likes Geography, but very few actually study it. Talking of geography, high school graduates these days think that Hong Kong lies near Chile. Of course, that is not true. That ignorance is the result of the confusion created by our half-baked lessons and full-blown abandon of general knowledge. Today, our youth rather know the name of the Italian villa that Indian Cricketer Virat Kohli got married in or the name of Christiano Ronaldo’s girlfriend, but don’t care if Hong Kong lies east or west!

The entire neighbourhood liked Kaali. She was dark, but lovely. Her squinted and foxy eyes mesmerized everyone. However, Kaali belonged to non-one. She lived alone at the foot of the staircase with her small family. Kaali was about eight months old when a local ‘boy’ impregnated her. The boy was slightly bigger than Kaali and acted like James Bond amongst the community bitches.

Stray dogs are a menace in Bhutan – bigger the town, bigger the menace. Thimphu with nearly 29% of the country’s population has the biggest stray canine population. Dogs are everywhere. They relax and chill out during the day and bark and howl at night. Sometimes in September, a black bitch in my erstwhile neighbourhood in Changzamtog, near the Muscle Factory, gave birth to four black pups. Very cute and tiny bundles. The mother dog was lovingly addressed as ‘Kaali’, after her dark colour, by the inmates of DSB building.

Kaali earned her own keep. She knew who to wag her tail at and who to snarl at. My wife was one of her favorites as she would collect all the kitchen leftover and offer it to Kaali. Like a good dog, Kaali was grateful. I was neither her favourite nor outright adverse. However, Kaali’s favourite was Krishna, a retired banker, who lived on the ground floor of our building. Krishna is a jovial and kind person. All of us knew that Krishna would offer Kaali meat and rice every day. If, perchance, meat was not available, he would hand-mix rice with clarified homemade butter and feed Kaali.

One day, the municipal dog catchers came with a Mahindra Bolero (a small truck) to our neighbourhood. They were tasked with collecting stray dogs and taking them to the Serbithang dog pound. They started chasing, lassoing, trapping and catching the strays. Before long, it was Kaali’s turn. The catchers ran after her as if Kaali was a criminal. Her only crime, though, was that she was an animal, and even worse a stray-dog. She was lucky, though, that she was born in Buddhist Bhutan, where compassion for all sentient beings is preached, if not entirely and always practiced. Kaali ran for her life, but then she was responsible for four more lives. After a brisk sprint, she looked back, she snarled, she ran and finally she stopped.

 From the corner of her wet eyes, she saw that the catchers had collected her babies and put them in the Bolero. A mother is a mother, whether it is a human mother or the mother of stray pups. One of the catchers held one of Kaali’s pups in his hands and wagered! He knew that the love of a mom would bring her to her kids, no matter what danger lied ahead.

Kaali whined, gave a sharp bark, looked towards Krishna and with her tail at 3:15 angle walked meekly towards the Bolero. It was too much for Krishna!  He could simply not look at Kaali being trapped and taken away. He took a last look at Kaali, threw his glance at the small house he had made for Kaali and her pups out of cardboard and plywood pieces and walked into his house!

The Curse of the Standards - My English Journey

Prologue

I work as a Management Consultant providing consulting services to companies in Bhutan. As a consultant, my job entails researching, writing and presenting my works to my clients – in English. I am currently on one such assignment, working on advising one of the companies on streamlining their outbound transportation logistics.

Two days ago, my teammates and I presented our findings and analyses to our client company. My boys did a good job. In the evening one of them asked me, ‘Sir, how did my presentation go?’ His intent was good. As an emerging champion, he was looking for feedback, good, honest feedback! I offered my appreciation and suggested a few areas of improvement. Later, we had dinner and parted our ways for the night. That night, as I sat alone in my room at the company’s Guest House in faraway Nganglam, I got thinking.

I began to reflect on my journey of learning English.  

My tryst with English began when I was about seven years old. I was enrolled at the local school in Neoly Bhutan in lower Kindergarten. At Neoly Dalim Primary School, I started learning English together with other subjects such as Dzongkha (the national language of Bhutan), Mathematics, Moral Science and Nepali (my mother tongue). My early days were spent largely trying to capture the English alphabets and attempting to differentiate the vowels and the consonants.

English was and still is the medium of instruction in schools and colleges across Bhutan. Today, when I look back I realize that we didn’t have qualified teachers in our primary school. Learning English, therefore, was tough. I had teachers who pronounced ear as air and air as ire. At home, I had a cousin who sang ‘Here we go round the mulberry bush..’ every night at his attempts to impress dad that he was studying late. Neither school nor home provided much breeding ground for English. And my pronunciation is hackneyed, to this day! Nevertheless, by the time I graduated from Dalim I could read and comprehend short stories and passages from English textbooks.

I spent the next three years in a boarding school, which was far from home. It took me two days to reach the school by a combination of conveyances, including walking. At the boarding school, I was able to learn and work on my grammar. I still remember a time when attempting to speak to a classmate in English I said “They does not know…”. My friend knew his grammar and immediately corrected me. I am grateful to him to this day. The head teacher of the school, Mr. Kerketta, a gaunt and elderly Indian gentleman from the West Bengal tea gardens, taught us the nuances of grammar including changing speech from direct to indirect. By the time I completed class eight from this nondescript government boarding school in Pema Gatshel, my English had sharpened a bit.   

Next, I was sent to Yangchenphug Central School in Thimphu, the capital of Bhutan. Those days it was the only high school in Thimphu and it enjoyed tremendous reputation for its excellence, be it in studies, extracurricular activities, or the facilities provided to boarders. It also had its fair share of notoriety, but that has nothing to do with my learning English.

During my two years in Yangchenphug, I was taught by two English teachers. In class IX it was one Mr. A K Sarkar, a thoroughbred British trained Indian teacher. He took pride in knowing more than one synonym for a given word. A classmate of mine once asked him ‘Sir, what is the meaning of variegated?’ In his inimitable style, Mr. Sarkar closed his eyes, tilted his head up to face the ceiling and started reciting, ‘multi-coloured, parti-coloured, dappled…’ It was only after a couple of girls at the back started giggling that Mr. Sarkar opened his eyes.

In class ten I was taught by one Mr. Pereira, a United Nations Volunteer from Sri Lanka. Although he had travelled a bit, he didn’t know brown sugar. A short story we were learning had mentioned brown sugar; as soon as we reached that word, Mr. Pereira’s natural chocolate face went further brown and he went out looking for help. It fell on John Chiramal to rescue him!   By the tenth standard, we were talking to our teachers and fellow students in English. Talking of teachers, there were quite a few who preferred to converse in other languages than English, including Nepali and Hindi. Then we had our ubiquitous Dzongkha Lopens. So, the environment was not highly conducive for practicing spoken English.   

After Yangchenphug I went to Sherubtse, which at that time was the only higher secondary school, offering class XI and XII, besides being a budding college. There, I was taught by young Canadian volunteer teachers, who were more interested in letching at and romancing with their female students than in any serious teaching.  I don’t remember learning anything serious from the Canadians. As such, the next segment of my academic career did not offer much opportunity to improve my English. The foundation had been laid and thereafter it was up to the individual students to improve their language skills.

After Sherubtse, Sri Ram College of Commerce, University of Delhi happened in my life. Although it was a college of much repute, it was not exactly Oxford or Cambridge. Hindi had to be learned and honed in order to survive the cacophony and the hustle and bustle of North Delhi. By the time I graduated with Honours in Economics from SRCC three years later, I probably had much better Hindi than any English to sing about!