I had a friend whose voice was a singing siren; body an uncooked potato kugel and heart a stain-steel rust. He was a man of multifaceted qualities – good in exaggerating, rumour mongering, cramming lie and making cruel hoax. I became an easy target for his manipulative skills and ended up lending him fifty thousand Ngultrums.
In the winter of 2005, I was on vacation setting my moods on with my kith and kin in Thimphu. Dechencholing was the perfect place to relax after nine months of demanding teaching. I was at peace, surrounded by my loved ones.
Like Scheherazade, who kept the king entertained with stories, my friend regaled me with tales of Bhutanese music and its success. Over tea, he promised to introduce me to the owner of Jimmy Music Studio, praising my vocal abilities. He said, “Buddy, your voice could be a dulcet tone to music lovers.” He spoke highly of the studio's music composition and suggested that producing a music album could be a lucrative venture.
I was captivated by his promises and eager to explore my singing talent. Ecstatically, more I thought about the fame and success of being a singer, the more the studio beckoned me like a mirage. His words seemed too tantalising to bring my dreams to life. I discussed this with my wife, who encouraged me wholeheartedly.
From the next day, I was like the fans of Indian Idol show practicing diligently, focusing on breath control, pitch, and rhythm. My enthusiasm grew as I prepared for this artistic journey. My friends and family soon learned about my optimistic dream.
One bleak morning, my friend visited me with a gloomy face. He confided that his mother was hospitalised and needed urgent treatment in India. He needed fifty thousand Ngultrums immediately for her surgery. I hesitated, explaining that I needed the money for my music production. He reassured me, saying, “My DEO has gone to Bangkok for short study tour and he has drawn the winter salaries of the Thimphu district teachers. I will get my salary from him but currently I am in urgent need of money. I will return your money when he comes back from Thailand. I made a call to his wife and she said, ‘he is coming back this week’. Please, understand my problem.” His words seemed to bear an utmost sincerity. As a faithful friend of him I was thoroughly moved by his sincerity and the desperate situation reminded me of a modicum of truth in saying “Friend in need is friend in deed”. Consequently, I empathetically lent him the amount he asked for, on a tacit understanding that he would return the sum by the end of January 2005.
The due date passed, but I waited, thinking he needed more time for his mother's treatment. A month went by with no sign of him. My music project was nearing completion, and the winter break was almost over. I tried calling him, but his phone was switched off. When I asked mutual friends about him, they sarcastically replied, “Are you not another victim of his sycophantic act and cheat?” “What do you mean?” I implored them intensely. Shocked, I learned that he owed money to many people and was avoiding them.
With regrets and self-blame, I desperately drove around Thimphu in rampant, trying to find him, feeling like a detective chasing a fugitive. Despite my efforts, I could not locate him. I only heard. He had ensnared me with sweet words and destroyed my dreams with his deceit.
I realised too late, the future contingencies that I had only seen one facet of his problem and had been caught in his cunning trap and became a perfect guinea pig. His betrayal left me feeling like a naive victim of a cruel hoax.
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