I am the youngest in my family. And I was the last one to go to school. From the very young age, I always wanted to go to school. I have seen my brothers and sisters going to school from the very beginning of my childhood. I always had a dream of going to school with them. Every morning, I would sit beside my mother and watch her dress them up. In that blue uniform, my siblings would look very neat and tidy. Seeing them wear, I would dream of wearing that blue uniform. After they have left for school, I would linger around my mother nagging, to dress me up too. My mother is illiterate but she knows what education means. She never denied when I asked her to dress me up. She with lots of love, would dress me up and for rest of the day, I would play happily with my toys. I would scribble anything that came to my mind. I would scribble on my bed room wall. I would get satisfaction seeing that I have written so many things.
Every evening, I could hear my siblings shout something.
They would be memorizing at top of their voice. Silently I would also repeat
the same thing after them. After they were done, I would go to them and shout
the same. Undoubtedly, I could pour out everything that was in the Dzongkha
book of class II. They would chase me. My father used to teach me how to read
and write. I used to run to my mother after I am done and show her my writings.
She would look at it and would fondle my hair and smile. I would be so
contented and would go to bed murmuring the memorized sentences.
I got admission in school in the year 2000, when I was six
years old. I was the happiest person but to be frank, my mother was more than
me. I could see tears in her eyes but still smiling for me. My family was happy
for me. I started going to school. It was like my dream come true. Now, my
mother used to dress me up- the blue uniform that I used to dream of wearing. I
would look into the mirror and smile. For me, going to school was like more
than anything.
I was very good in studies. My entire teacher used to
appreciate me. I used to stay late night writing my home works. There was no
one to help me. My siblings were far away from home. They were in their
college. My father would be out for site. No one was there to help me out with
my works. But my mother always stood beside me. She would stay late night with
me besides her tiring day chores. She used to tell the names of animals in our
local dialect and I used to translate it in either English or Dzongkha. I used
to cry for not finishing my works and she used to console me with lots of love.
She would look at me and smile. I would get that satisfaction and would again
continue my work. My mother would sit beside me and watch until I am done. She
would wake me early morning and make me study. My craze for education amplified
with my mother’s sacrifices. I wanted to do something for my mother. I don’t
want her sacrifices to go in vain.
I got my education and still I am with it. I know everyone-
my father and my siblings are happy for me but I want my mother to be the most.
It is said that, “What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you
remember and how you remember it.” So, I remember how my father used to teach
me, how my siblings helped me out with my obstacles but more than anything, I
remember my mother’s sacrifices- her sleepless nights, contentment and her
love.
More than me, my mother has the craze for education. Now, at
least she can read and identify the numbers. I am glad that because of my
craze, my mother could help out with herself in this materialistic world.
