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Menstruation is nothing more than a biological change in women’s body; nothing to be stereotyped, discriminated and looked down. It’s everyone’s responsibility.   My personal reasons why we tie the red ribbon on our right arm; support the right of women to be treated equally, no matter what. It also shows the right of every man to support this and pledge to be supportive irrespective of who and what you are. My perceptions may not be true to others but I would like to believe and support with my intuition and perspective. Our strong cultural, traditional and religious belief treat it otherwise. While to some extent it is agreeable, especially on the religious ground (even though doesn’t give a strong basis), it’s time we break this silence and pledge to support Menstruation hygiene. During my high school days, even it might have been the similar experiences that whenever a woman had a period, we would make sure that she is kept at a faraway place. Nobody would agree

A tale of a time long gone, not even to the nearest of men's remembrance, a mother left her only daughter at home, Tshering Zangmo by the name  while she went to fetch firewood in the nearest forest. As was the usual practice for a single mother to keep her daughter away from exhaustion and weariness of climbing the mountains and vales, she left her all by herself at their makeshift home. And unexpectedly, she took quite a longer time to return home that day. And the fact was obvious that the firewood at a nearby places was not enough for her load. As usual, she reached home, tired and fatigue with a bunch of firewood enough for another week or so. The first thing the mother did was, a motherly instinct, looked for her daughter. She wanted to make sure that she had looked after herself well, while she was away. 'Tshering, Tshering', she called out to her daughter loud. Silence prevailed at each and every corner of the place. She panicked and ran here and the

A usual evening it was, on the 3rd of May. I was attending to the needful of my little hero; an evening bath. “Chayku, you have a call,” shouted my wife from outside. I ignored it and just carried on having some fun with my son in the bathtub. Just as I finished with my boy, I checked my phone and there it was.  A surprise indeed. “Congratulations. You won an award!” the message read. It was from a colleague who went to attend the  Fourth Annual Journalism Award at Namgay Heritage Conference Hall. I was speechless and said nothing. Just smiled at my boy. ‘EXCELLENCE IN JOURNALISM’ for the ‘TALK SHOW of the YEAR.’  Such an honour!  For a person like me who isn’t so familiar with awards and trophies, it was such an overwhelming moment. For every heart and soul I put in my work for the last three years, it really honoured me that somebody out there thought that my work deserves an award like this. It’s my dream to be a journalist; explore the world telling storie

It was in the year 2001 when I first heard the word, ‘Teacher’s Day.’ I was in fifth standard then. When the head master of the school announced that the 2 nd May will be celebrated as teacher’s day, pupil went on whispering on each other’s ears, except the ones at the front of the line. They would not stir, let alone talk and whisper as they had the attention of every teacher in the assembly. “Besides the usual celebration of the Birth Anniversary of the Third Druk Gyalpo, Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, it’s the day to pay tribute and gratitude to your teachers,” the headmaster continued. And silence prevailed everywhere. None of us in the school had a bit of clue about what was the day all about. And nobody had any idea of what should have been done. So it passed like the headmaster had never announced during the assembly. And exactly the same thing happened the following year; just nothing, but a day off from the study. It was when I reached the seventh standard that I had the slig