WHERE IS THE COIN?

I

ndian shopkeepers are very reasonable in charging the prices they fix on their articles. And other than bargaining, the customer need not bother about the remaining balance the seller owe him/her; be it one or four, they return the balance amount anyhow. Indians are precisely calculating mathematicians.

Shopping in India is much comfortable than in Bhutan. In India, whether the price is odd or even, one need not worry about the change if the note of higher denomination is paid. The role of smaller paper notes and coins are still alive here. In Bhutan, chocolates and other articles of little value make up the smaller balance the shopkeeper owe the buyer. This has become a rigid trend in shopping and Bhutanese shopkeepers are omniscient: they always give either matches or chocolates or chewing gums for the remaining balance. If you dare demand the exact amount back then the omniscient people will obviously call you a miser.

Many commercial goods in Bhutan have prices in multiples of five with least starting from the number. If the supposed price is odd, then the shopkeeper won’t mind taking trouble to beautify the articles with newer price tag and re-fix the rate. One thing they make sure – the price be paid without involving the coins.

Bhutanese coins are extinct. They might be among the offerings in the temples or rusted on the ground or among the fossils of dinosaurs. Who knows? If you happen to possess one, preserve it! And sell it either to an antique dealer or museum authorities. Becoming millionaire is propitious if you've a dozen at least.

The coins are here. But they are all Indian's.

Even if the coins are resuscitated, it will never find use now as it used to decades ago because hypocrisy has eaten consciousness of every modern Bhutanese and have taken control of their conscience: using coin belittles them. But it’s also not usual that we get to count dollars.

I’m sure every one of us is familiar with the poem saying little grains of sand make pleasant land. Of course, it’s an elementary poetry. Who won’t know? Yet we forget – or neglect – what it conveys actually. The slack cost us our dear coins. I wonder whether we, Bhutanese, really care it’s one that makes hundred.

We only keep measuring our pity economy against the formidable Indian progress. We are incompetent. India outraces us because they count their coins. They’ve mastered the fact; building palace requires the collection of pebbles first.