Organicism: Beyond Toxicity and Foreignness

It is easy to forget what keeps us alive until the shelves empty. During the lockdown, when imported food stalled at borders, Bhutanese villagers did not wait for foreign grain supplies. They turned to what their fields had always given them—Ashom Kharang. Maize was not a fallback; it was survival itself. For farmers, it has long been the daily lifeline, carried from field to hearth with dignity and toil. Yet in towns, the story is different. Rice sacks stamped with foreign labels, breads packaged in plastic, even instant noodles are consumed with pride, while Kharang is quietly dismissed as the food of the poor. This is not just a matter of taste; it is a symptom of cultural amnesia. India has roti, China has noodles. What will Bhutan claim if maize slips from our tables entirely? A nation that forgets its staple forgets its roots.

To treat Kharang as outdated is to misunderstand its worth. Beyond nutrition, it is economic and political armour. It cushions households from price shocks, protects the nation from adulterated imports, and sustains an organic tradition that no supermarket can replicate. Abandoning it means greater dependency—on foreign markets, on fragile supply chains, and ultimately, on values that are not our own.

The irony is that while villagers still live by Kharang, the urban elite, who can afford alternatives, are the ones most eager to discard it. But when the next crisis comes—as it surely will—whose wisdom will keep us fed: the farmers who kept faith with maize, or the consumers who traded resilience for convenience?

Ashom Kharang is not nostalgia—it is strategy. It is not mere food—it is identity. To save Kharang is to save Bhutan’s resilience, integrity, and soul.

Our Ashom, our Nation. Save Kharang, save the Nation. Value Ashom Kharang, value the Nation.

Sarva Mangalam

The Bus Missers: Life Left in the Dust

Notably, in a GNH land—where flags are hoisted high and walls are adorned with phallic symbols—we place excessive faith in happiness, a state we scarcely experience ourselves. With a spade in hand, the pen struggles to find equal footing for celebration. We boast about the current ECCD settings designed for the 'haves,' while children on the bus are offered solutions to problems that remain unresolved. In the name of inclusive and special education, buses for native children are equipped with top-notch facilities, ensuring that everyone has a seat. Yet, under the banner of 'education for all,' even the fortunate find themselves crowded into an overstretched system.

As everyone scrambles to board, many of the 'have-nots' are left behind, unable even to glimpse the roads they cannot travel. How can we genuinely assess our progress when many of them remain outside the bus? How can we, with integrity, claim to work towards a global cause while turning a blind eye to the countless children stranded beyond the bus route?

The expatriate parents of these children, who work on our roads, are not labouring for the development of their own country but for ours. Have we paused to reflect on why these children are missing the bus? Exposed to dust and deprivation, these children are a victim of our negligence. Are we not complicit in their suffering? For these children, missing the bus is not a temporary setback but a future lost due to our indifference. Like our own children, they too have the right to education, a right that should not be denied due to economic hardship. As barbets mark time, is it wise for us to destroy their nests?

With UNESCO offices committed to addressing global issues, it is crucial that we do not ignore these underprivileged children, particularly those of Indian migrant workers. As global citizens, their lack of access to education must not determine their future. Like our children, they too deserve a seat on the bus. Establishing ECCD centres near labour camps and providing quality education for non-native children would shed light on the darker side of GNH. Are these children not part of our society? Can we boastfully claim success while children in this GNH land are still denied the basic right to learn?

Sarva Mangalam

Impoverishmentism

I was toxic to many,
And a blessing to few.
Many have been hurt deeply,
And few have been healed.

I was wrong in many ways,
And only right on rare moments.
I believed too much in myself,
And never thought of others.

I was unaware of being present,
And fooled by my own thoughts.

 

Sarva Mangalam

Label-ism

The unbalanced ride is perilous in itself;

The unsettled emotion is restless in itself;

The unnourished mind is ignorant in itself;

The uncontrolled anger is destructive in itself;

The unguarded thoughts are venomous in itself;

The undisciplined actions are disgusting in itself;

The unfabricated rigpa is luminous- ‘as it is’ in itself!

Sarvamangalam

Unjudgementism

Judge a man neither by his origin nor by his position.

Judge a man neither by his strength nor by his weakness.

Judge a man neither by his questions nor by his answers.

Judge a man neither by his appearance nor by his behavior.

Judge your thoughts neither by their arrival nor by their departure.

Judge to unjudge everything neither by judgement nor by unjudgement.

Sarva Mangalam

With an undying peace in the heart,

There will be an undying peace at home;

With an undying peace at home,

There will be an undying peace between neighbours;

With an undying  peace between the neighbours,

There will be an undying peace in the villages/cities;

With an undying peace in the villages/cities,

There will be an undying peace in the nations;

With an undying peace in the nations;

There will be an undying peace in the world;

Worldism

From animal realm to human realm, nation to frontiers, Buddhism to  Christianity, ethnic to race, dogma to taboo, the path to flyovers, cheese to turmeric, whiteboard to the online class, dawn to dusk, conventional to modern, space to the crowd, cold to sweat, gho to jeans, friends to foes, laborer to a prostitute, noble to the assassin  - in a relative stand, one cannot coalesce the crests and troughs of the differences into commonness. We must celebrate the differences and appreciate the multiplicity of variations as everything is unique in itself.

 I am neither a brahman, victim, scholar, slave, Adivasi, priest, tycoon, Buddhist nor a Hindu, male, refugee, teacher or a heartthrob. These social constructs are all created by human minds, seeing things only through their own windows. Our doors for OPV are often locked and the gates for proposition are usually opened and hardly we make an attempt to see things from the roof different lens. For those who think roof as an apex must look at the sky and feel what world would you see if you are to view it from there. We cannot charter anyone’s route of thinking at an ordinary level. Do we need to disclose what we feel for others? Unfortunately or fortunately we have our own world totally uninterpretable and unseeable by others. What you see or think of others and what others think of you is just an attempt to explain what you see from your own window. Despite our window being often comparative, channelizing, selective, and conclusive we however attempt to draw a closer picture of what is too far and ‘there,’ thereby compromising the essence of what really is ‘there’ in its stand. Your window is your world!