Just in the Neighbourhood

The day started just like any other day would start…late! To top it off, Pompom just made a “doody”. So I was really late.

I jumped into my car, didn’t wait for the engine to warm up, I pulled the car out of the drive way and rushed to work…ahem…school.

It was really cold, everything was covered in frost. I wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t obstructed my view as I was driving like a maniac. So I turned on my wipers to scrape the frost off my wind shield. I successfully made it to the morning rush hour and believe me it was slower than “slow mode”.

I turned the heater on to warm my hands and feet, just then I saw an old woman with her hands in the air gesturing for a ride. Holding bits and pieces of cartoon box under her arm and a rosary in her hand, I knew where she was headed for: the Memorial Chorten.

There were taxis and several other cars in front of me, so I thought they would stop for her, but to no surprise, everyone just rushed off to their destination paying little or no attention to the old woman. The woman looked really cold. She just had a thin maroon nylon tego over her colourful cotton kira and bata slippers. She could use the warmth of my car.

I was late. I saw her breath heavily in the cold air, and clutch her ‘mat’ and rosary as the morning chill was cutting through her thin shield of clothes. I remembered my grandmother, energetic, wise and radiant even after 77 years. She loves going to the Chorten too.

I stepped hard on the breaks, turned on my parking lights, reached across the passenger seat and opened the door without even thinking. She peered through the open door and looked right at my soul, I smiled and patted the seat next to mine gesturing her to get in. She did ever so willingly.

Aaachochoooo! She exclaimed as she sank in the seat next to me, enjoying the warm air inside the car. She muttered something, which I couldn’t hear over the radio. So I turned Kuzoo off for the moment and paid her my undying attention.

She was speaking Sharchop (in its purest form) and my Sharchop was just functional not to mention that I spoke the mutated version. So I could not make out most of what she had to say.

From what I could make out, she was from Rangjung, came to Thimphu to meet her daughter who is working for some Dasho. She was leaving for her village tomorrow and before she left she wanted to visit the Chorten and offer her prayers there.

She turned towards me and again peered into my soul with her deep innocent eyes, waiting for me to say something. I flushed (still can’t explain why). I wondered if she asked me something for which she was expecting some sort of response.

I introduced myself then. I told her I am a teacher to which she smiled the happiest smile ever. Her eyes lit up and gave me the thumps up. I went on and mentioned my granny too, and how she loved to come to the Chorten whenever she is in Thimphu. I don’t know if she understood me for she just sat there enjoying the view as we drove towards the Memorial Chorten, smiling.

I wasn’t in a hurry anymore. Due to some unexplainable reason, I was actually at peace and enjoying her presence. She would talk every now and then in Sharchop. I didn’t want to seem rude so I kept nodding my head in agreement and smiling when she looked at me. I liked listening to the rhythm of her voice. It was soothing.

The ride to the Chorten that morning was the longest and yet the shortest too, for we had made it to the parking lot near the Chorten. I reached across and opened the door for her. What happened next changed everything!

She got out and once again peered through the open door. She was saying something. I think she finally understood I could not understand her, as she signaled. Her thumb was rubbing the pointer which meant money. I thought she was asking for money so I reached for my bag in the back seat and as I turned, she had a brand new fifty ngultrum in her hard worked hand and she was stretching across to give the note to me. I was embarrassed. I thought she wanted money but it turned out that she was the one who was offering me money for the ride.

I don’t know why but I hated myself that moment. I shook my head side ways to say I didn’t need her money and at the same time I was uttering, “Dekpay….Dekpay Abi!” I tried to tell her she is my granny and that’s the least that I could do. She smiled and reached across and took my hands in hers and slowly put it on her forehead: prayed and said, “Kadrinchey!”

Time froze and the world stood still. I experienced happiness in its purest form that day. I felt indescribable feelings. I squeezed her hands gently and choked a “Kadrinchey”. I watched her disappear into the Memorial Chorten and that was the last I saw her.

As I drove to work I realised I didn’t even know her name nor she knew mine. I don’t know if our paths will ever cross again but one thing I am sure about is; when you give wholeheartedly you receive the same. I didn’t even know I was giving until I received overwhelming love and prayers. That moment I realised I did. The old woman who I assumed helpless helped me to the greatest treasure: wisdom!

I drove to school in total bliss that morning. I didn’t even think about being late nor was I worried about my boss yelling at me for being late. I was in total control, no more road rage nor tension. At that moment only one thought crossed my mind. I thought about my King.

I knew exactly how He feels when He is with his people. Loved! I knew then the reasons He leaves behind the comforts of His humble palace, His family and friends, visiting places where even our imagination can’t reach. The reasons He walks for days over mountains and valleys, crossing all barriers just so He could sleep on a thin mat in a hut under the open sky filled with stars and share a simple meal with a farmer or drink from an ancient spring. It was because these simple meals and remote places provided Him with the greatest treasure in the world: complete peace and happiness.

The smiles, tears of joy and the prayers that the people bestowed upon Him are the gifts that no other King in the world would ever receive nor can be bought with the greatest treasure of the world. He could pop up anywhere at any moment. Always ready with a comforting smile, a tender generous hug, a helping hand and an empathetic and compassionate heart: He would sit by the field to have a casual chat with the farmers, pop up in your shop to see how you are doing, surprise you for a cup of tea in your house no matter how far your home is or play football bare feet with the children in the schools.

All that because He is not just a King. He is a son, son of the ancient and the past, a father, father of the young and the future and a guide, guide for the present. He is family and He is just in the neighbourhood to see you.

He gives without any expectations for a return, and for that He receives. That is the essence of giving, giving it all like a King.