A mad night of sitting next to the Thames, watching it swiftly and quite silently flow in a direction none of us could figure out but nor did it matter. The bright red light of the eye casting blood shot rays on the dark night, black clouds with stars guarding them from behind, yellow hues from the street lights fading into the blink of my drunken eyes, dawn was yawning in the corner and all I can remember is murmurs from conversations, laughter echoing with gulps of whisky and vodka. Celebrations galore and why not, not everyday eight Bhutanese gather by the Thames,we are just about a score in the whole of UK! It was the night of the Bhutan Society dinner, black tie, wining and dining, lords and ladies, friends of Bhutan toasting to the Kingdom we all love. HRH Dasho Jigyel in his black brocade gho shining princely indeed graced the annual dinner. The travellers club the venue, very posh and very British.
After the formal event, the informal gathering was the Bhutanese night out. As we entered a buzzing pool pub to drink few pints of lager what better music to greet us than the same ones they play in Space 34! Everything closes at 12 and we hit a club to grab some more cider and my body took the toll of mixing drinks and everything after that is quite a blur, but even with blurred images and slurred speeches, my memory can decently fish out these details.
It is the bond, the bond we share coming from a common land that even strangers becomes friends in just few minutes or hours. It is a bond the mountains have ingrained in us to love, laugh, enjoy and be happy. It is the common talk, tit bits of home and news, old nostalgic school day stories, funny anecdotes and what we struggle with everyday to live in this ridiculously expensive country. Some one takes a swing and downs the vodka, I am not drinking, I was already quite there but I was multitasking, listening to conservations, watching the moment slip and pass as dawn was yawning like I said and soon it was all of us. These are moments, cherishable ones, special ones, fostering the Bhutanese bond away in distant lands. I will be candid, there are times that I love the anonymity living in a foreign land that hardly is true back home but there are times where a gentle pat on your shoulder from someone from homes makes all the difference, to lift you out from your depressing day and make your spirits soar, to give you that little push when you had almost stopped.
I mention not your names but we all know that we were there with the eYe, and why we were there that we need to ask Mr. S., he was hell bent on getting us there and am glad he did. I write this before it becomes another blur and fades into the dark red night, where the eYe stood still soaked in blood and drunk with happiness, where a bunch squattering on a cold stone bench lay twittering like birds till early morn and all that the passerby would have heard were fits of laughter, if only they knew the story.
Oh! and there was this little birthday girl who celebrated hers with people from home but who she had never met. I can only imagine how that must feel like, I bet it was wonderful.
We need to do this again!
The next day, all facebook statuses complained, as quite expected, "hungover!"
Thank you all for the lovely time, I really hope we do this again.
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