"HELLO DAWA" GREETED PENJOR, AN ENERGETIC BOY who woke up first than anyone else. He is fairly handsome with modernized hairstyle who never failed to gel his hairs. His eyes are hazel and face oval, quite long at the chin.
"Yes Penjor, anything else?" I responded yawning because of the nightly hours. Usually at night, fooling the Warden and the Night Guards-those lazy fellows and fools, and no place for the Captains, we enter through the pearly gates of our 'Divine House of the Heaven' for the mundane activity. Let me say it in simple, we usually blowed smokes or sometimes teachers said feeding on the grasses. Mary Jane was the usual mandatory one and seldom psychoactive drugs like LSD and DMT.
After that, we felt divinely euphoria and even the stars seemed to twinkle in the dark obnubilate night. Laughter was another feature, we laughed like mentals and thought like an ass. The funniest things would happen after we were intoxicated by the venomous power of the weed. Whenever we looked at each other's face, some driving factors would made us to burst into undefined laughter, which would last practically about five to ten minutes. Study was another fucking stuff, my teachers, poor fellows, kept on advising me that I have to burn my midnight candle and often said I was performing very poorly. Their efforts went as if they were pouring water onto the nonporous and compact boulders!
Parents and teachers exhortations made me hurl, be it of any degree of persuasiveness, I was fade up of hearing. Let me be precise, I was sort of inexorable. My ears operated very poorly due to buggy and pressurised advice. One day it so happened that I was referred to the school counselor, a real chump, by my class teacher who had still some hope of turning me to humanism from barbarian, poor him. He questioned me, which were considered the technique of the counselor, which I don't wanted to disclose. I simply said, "I am not able to perform well as expected and awaited for because my brain is fucking poor."
"Hey! Repeat it once again! You child of a dog. Don't you have manner to talk with your elder. You rascal." His voice heightened and his eyes turned red. He caught hold of my robe right at my chest and pushed me back, tumbling me from my chair. I severely hit my head on the bookshelf.
"Err....I am fucking poor!" I replied, getting up from the floor, getting irritated.
As I used a word 'fucking' in the conversation, as in the Bhutanese context it is understood as filthy and inappropriate, he was exasperated and whanged his broad hand on my face as he considered the talk to be official. I said firm and entrenched, "If you will, you are welcomed to another as well", so I willingly gave my left. He was extremely fierce then, so he forced me out of counselling service room.
"Let us go fast to the school. Today is Chemistry test, you know that?" He asked, sashing for the final round around his waist. His smiles were lively and sometimes he stretched so broad that even his jaws would be displayed outside his two thick brown lips.
Chemistry? Stoichiometry, Mole Concept and Gas Laws? All were the toughest chapters.
"Chemistry? When is the period?" I interrogated him solemnly for sake I could not afford to conjecture chemistry teacher, a real sorcerer indeed! He roughed out any student if misbehaved without having mercy. I still reminisced how badly he had beaten the stuffing out of me when I couldn't state the Gay-Lussac Law. I still have contusions to prove.
"It's second period, you heard me?" He said earnestly, applying the 'Fair and Handsome' cream.
"Then, what is the first period?" I asked him, totally psyched and brought into life.
"Haha...why do you even ask that?" He asked rather mortifyingly, gelling his already porcupine-like hair. They looked too glossy to touch.
"If it's free, I can get time to study." I mused, finding myself oblivious of what is really happening around. I felt completely disorganised and insane. Since Chemistry was my toughest subject, very much hated subject right from class IX, without practising I din't have even hope of scoring one.
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