Chapter 1

This very moment, I just feel like jotting down my life story from the farthest length of my memory. People are born different in many ways. The differences start from the physical appearance to living standards, spiritual beliefs, and so on. Everybody has their share of good times and darker parts of time. I have my own story and that is what makes me, myself. 

The farthest, that my memory can travel is the day when my mom stopped breastfeeding me. Not very vivid but I remember when my mom was caught with jaundice. The milk I enjoyed turned yellow from the normal color. I stopped begging my mom for milk thereafter. I think I was about three years old then. 

There is a time gap in my memory after the aforementioned farthest memory. The next thing I can remember is guarding crops against animals, especially against monkeys. That memory could be from the time when I was four to five years old. I was enrolled in school when I was five and a half years old in 2005. That particular memory preceded the time when I was enrolled in school. 

The village of Binangri, (Mongar, Drepong) in a medium-sized traditional house with a wood-shingle roof, was where my family lived. It was quite a big family which consisted of my mom, my elder brother, my aunt (mom's elder sister), her four daughters (first cousins), and myself. A total of six children were led by two mothers. Neither me and brother nor the cousins were lucky to have a father in the family. No, I was not bothered at all to not have a father because I had not seen him at all. I won't even think of asking my mom. 

Stay tuned for the second chapter...