First up, I know I’m not gonna party with the DPT; no matter what kind of a party they intend to put on. That party has tired me out from the last party they sprung up. I’m still reeling from the nausea. And as to the other three parties, I’m still ambiguous as to which party I should party with once the fiery Saturday Night Fever commences, which will also culminate in the biggest party come the end of November, 2018.
For now, a playlist of the parties I just might get jiggy with.
I heard out the ‘hard’ debate moderated by the Bhutan Broadcasting Station (every five years the State Broadcasting Station comes in to its own – almost smug – in light of the debates and discourses they can showcase in both Dzongkha – which I misunderstand – and in English, which I try to understand). But once exhausted of this five-yearly bonanza, the State Broadcasters will go back to channeling their trusted itineraries of day-long song-requests. And why not? There is nothing newsworthy going on and the station has to return to its roots, broadcasting Astrology, Circulars, Tenders, Ads, Auctions, Inaugurations and Archery. This is not a complaint; rather it is an endorsement of the importance of counting Black Necked Cranes and rumbling pachyderms and exhibiting the clarity of the Conch Shell.
Excuse me for getting carried away like the monsoon rain and its battered roads. Let’s get back to the party. The quandary is a good one to have. And as mentioned – excluding the DPT – I’m divided between the equal show of concern exhibited by the other three parties. I wish Jackson Drukpa and his digitized party of Druk Gaki Tshogpa had also been allowed to party but at times the ECB can be a zealous Disc Jockey, demanding music and musicians the Bhutanese Happy Party simply could not access. A pity, but come 2023 and perhaps we could all party like the Jackson Five, to Prince and the Revolution’s ‘1999’, with Jackson Drukpa headlining the act.
Now the DNT has made me sentimental. The party of achieving sound economic equity by filling in the gap says, ‘come party with us and we shall make sure the party does not stop with us. We shall narrow the gap between the ‘haves’ and their stepbrothers and stepsisters the‘have-nots’ without lowering the status of the haves. We shall do this across the height and waist of our kingdom and we shall do this from the top of our mountain peaks down to the bottom of our tropical plains. And we shall make certain everyone is jiving to the same groove. Like a ‘doma-paney-chuney’ combo we shall all party as one and paint the country a smiling red’.
You can’t argue with such logic and such passion, especially when it is prescribed by doctors. I’m a ‘step brotherly-have not’ and attending this party just might make me one of the ‘haves’. So I’m going to watch this party to see if the musical chair changes buttocks midstream, or stays steady to the rhythm of an equal tune.
Next is the BKP. They have got my righteous Fahrenheit burning with their declarations of honor, incorruptibility, and a hundred percent inclusivity of our hitherto excluded brethren of the backwoods from the national psyche, and its twenty partying zones. How can I not disco to such a beat? It would behoove me to discard the words of a former crusader against the thugs of Sinking City and its families of influenza. One simply cannot afford to be excluded when invited to engage in a war on the side of the good against the invisible villains of the black. I do not want to be reduced to a henchman of the losing lot, hence there is no recourse but to follow the better spirit of my hidden self and keep an eye on the ticket so that I can gyrate to the universal jingles of this rhythmic jazz.
And finally, there is the PDP. I must admit there have been no major mishaps with their track records- at least not in the realms of siring new dynasties or disposing of old ones. And judging from their honorable words, there is no way a sane man would refuse an invitation to party with such hallowed company as the swinging triplets of Unity, Stability and Prosperity. And that marvelous gesture of returning those irresistible Prados back to the state coffers? Priceless! I do hope they will take back the same lot if they do win a second mandate to drive those illustrious wheels. Or even a third. And talking of wheeling-dealing, whomsoever thought of turning Norzin Lam into a walking nightmare had it coming. Automobiles move on the roads, stupid, and pedestrians on the sidewalks. With such decisiveness, who would not want to party with the PDP?
So really – besides the DPT – a party with whom I have no energy left to party with, I’m in a partying conundrum. I guess I’ll do what all party-goers tend to do; I’ll survey the scene of the threesome; check out their discotheques, and see what kind of party-goers are going to hop and tap. And keep an ear on the playlist of songs they are likely to play and the kind of vibe they are likely to arouse. Atmosphere is everything and if I find that the vibe is artificially induced, physically enforced, or mentally manipulated, then I’m gonna get hawkish and observe the floor some more. And see if the list has also been chosen keeping in mind specific guests or scions of the capitalizing industry and their wish-lists of favored tunes. And pertinently – the kind of spirit that is going to be stockpiled on the bar shelves. Then I should be in a vantage position to gauge the mood of the incoming salvo.
That is if I’m not already hung-over from what is certainly going to be a three-month long shindig of never ending parties. So stay sober and party cautiously, because, like the song, it’s the time to disco.
The writer is an editor, writer and founder of yallamma_the_writing_company.