Like a giant Brahminy kite swooping down on its prey, Drukair's Airbus, plumed in the national colours of orange and yellow, veered sharply to the left over the Himalayas to head for an unexpected v-shaped opening in the mountains.

To the collective gasps of its passengers - who had barely recovered from the excitement of flying alongside the world’s mountain peaks, including Mount Everest, Kanchenjunga, Jumolhari, Dhaulagiri and Makalu among others - it emerged through the gap to present a vista that was both panoramic and breathtaking.

A long strip of asphalt beckoned below in a welcoming carpet at the quaint Paro airport, the gateway to the mystical kingdom of Bhutan. It was flanked on either side by verdant slopes of cypress, pine and oak, dotted in the foothills by pretty traditional cottages and chhordens (Buddhist stupas), with their fluttering white flags, and the sparkling chu (river), that gives company a good way during the one-hour journey from Paro to capital Thimphu.

Welcome to the country often described as “the last Shangri La on earth”, that Lonely Planet calls one of the world’s most enigmatic and intriguing nations.

”Felicitations to the Royal Couple on their Wedding”, greeted a giant billboard with a coloured photo of HRH Jigme Kesar Namgyel Wangchuk, the fifth king of Bhutan, and his wife Gyaltusuen Jetsun Pema Wangchuk, as one set foot in a land whose benevolent rulers have chosen to measure their people’s well-being through the unique concept of Gross National Happiness (GNH) rather than the universal metric of Gross National Product (GNP).

Though the couple are observing their first wedding anniversary this month, the kingdom - it now calls itself a democratic constitutional monarchy is still to get over the international attention it got when the world media came to cover the royal wedding last October 13.

Immigration is a breeze (Indians require no visa but on the whole tourism has to be of high-value—-other foreigners have to pay $200 each and travel in groups which are ecologically friendly and cultural acceptable) and soon one is settled on the road to Thimphu in one of the Maruti Suzukis or Hyundai Santros that seem to predominate the 66,000 odd private vehicle population of the country. Although the snaking road to Thimphu is full of hairpin bends, no one honks because, as our driver put it sagely, the mountain gods “would feel disturbed”.

Thimphu has changed since the time I was last here, two decades ago. The city, which resembles an Indian hill town of about 50,000 people is much more crowded, has many more markets, hotels and restaurants and there is new construction everywhere, although everyone has to adhere to traditional Bhutanese architectural norms — white-washed rectangular buildings with sloping, crested roofs and gilded windows and all carrying the local icons of dragon and lotus.

There is also the ubiquitous phallic symbol dangling from the eaves of Bhutanese homes to ward off malevolent spirits. In the words of a Bhutanese writer, “phallic rituals appear everywhere in our daily lives, marking events that range from the mundane to the momentous.”

”The birth of a calf, for instance, the purchase of a new truck, or the augury of a brand new home all merit a nod to the pre-eminent phallus.”

Bhutan is a deeply spiritual nation of nearly 700,000 people, whose history stretches back to the origins of Buddhism and who have developed a unique identity, derived largely from a religious and cultural heritage, designed for a harmonious evolution of man with nature.

Such is the Bhutanese obsession with retaining their pristine lifestyle that the biggest media debate a few months ago was about the installation of the first traffic light at the busiest downtown crossing. Ultimately, the traditionalists, backed by the king, prevailed and the lights were dismantled.

Today, a policeman directs traffic under a crafted canopy, traffic is orderly and non-cacophonous and Bhutan, the land of the thunder dragon, continues with its delicate balance between tradition and modernity. (IANS)

She was young and attractive and caused a flutter of interest in the neighbourhood every time we went out for a walk. But I certainly wasn’t about to allow them to take any liberties with her. She was meant for someone other than the riff-raff that loitered about. Not that she ever showed any reciprocal interest; she studiously ignored all their attempts to catch her eye. Instead, she kept close to me until we were back home.

 “Oh, good. You’re back from your walk,” my mother looked up from the morning papers. “Come on, Lucy. Here’s a biscuit for you.”

I bent down to unclip the latch and Lucy bounded over to snap up the biscuit. Yes – that was Lucy, our three-year-old Spitz. She was eight weeks old when she became a family, a gift from kind friends who knew we were on the lookout for a puppy. Then just a small, white fluffy ball of fur, I could easily hold Lucy within my cupped palms and right there and then, I fell in love with her.

I can’t deny that the first few weeks were difficult – they were. Caring for a puppy can take up a lot of time and demands reserves of patience that you never knew you possessed. But it was all worth it because she returned that care with affection and companionship several times over.

When I slogged over college exams late at night, Lucy kept me company, snoozing under the table while I absentmindedly rubbed my toes over her soft furry body. She was quite partial to tummy rubs. It came a close second to tinned fish with rice.

The only one who was annoyed with this new addition to the household was the cat. Used to being the centre of attention, she didn’t take kindly to this little upstart. She hissed and arched her back and took a swipe at poor Lucy, every time they came face to face. It was a long time before the two came to some sort of an uneasy truce.

When Lucy was around two-years-old, we thought it was time she was introduced to a prospective mate. An aunt very enthusiastically offered her Spitz .I’d seen Sunshine, and frankly I wasn’t too optimistic. He was a friendly little fellow, but a bit of a dim-wit. Hardly the one who might know his way around ladies. And as it turned out, I wasn’t wrong.

The morning after we had left Lucy at my aunt’s place, she called up to inform that Lucy remained pure as the driven snow and Sunshine seemed to be in some kind of canine shock . It transpired that the evening had been filled with angry snarls from Lucy, who refused to have anything to do with the dopey Sunshine, poor chap. He was so thoroughly cowed by the scornful female that he moped about the house and refused to meet anybody’s eyes.

“The rejection hit him hard, I think,” my aunt said with a sigh.

And so that was that. Our attempt at matchmaking had been a total failure. As it turned out, we never did manage to find “a suitable boy” for Lucy.

After my brothers and I left home, it was just my mother and Lucy. They kept each other company and the bond only grew stronger over the years. She even accompanied my mother on her tours across the State. We liked to joke that my mother now had her unofficial bodyguard. Lucy might have been small but she was no pushover, as many who knew her would agree. She especially disliked rambunctious little children, and was not above trying to sneak in a nip or two, if she could. Indeed, a couple of the grandkids have felt the sharp edge of her teeth on a few occasions. But Lucy being Lucy, we forgave these transgressions.

 Lucy loved car rides, sticking her nose out of the half-opened window, a happy grin on her face. Yet, it was on one of her travels with my mother, that Lucy almost died. My mother had got off to meet someone while Lucy remained in the car. When she returned after an hour or so, Lucy was in pretty bad shape. The driver had gone off for chai-pani after rolling up all the windows with Lucy inside. It was the height of summer and poor Lucy was gasping for breath like she was going to drop dead any minute. She was instantly whisked out into the shade and after a while, to everyone’s immense relief, her laboured breathing slowly returned to normal and a drink of water managed to refresh her. The driver got an earful, though he hadn’t meant to be cruel, just thoughtless…

Lucy went on to have a long and happy innings. A year before my mother’s retirement, the two of them moved into the new house at Beltola. Lucy loved the freedom of a garden after all those years in a flat, and she spent many a happy hour pottering about, sniffing the nook and corners of the new place.

It was a sad day when Lucy was finally called up to doggie heaven. She was put to rest in a corner of the backyard. The pain hit my mother quite hard and no wonder ; Lucy had been her constant companion over the years, someone who was always there when the rest of us had left home. A welcoming presence at the end of a day at work, the warmth of a furry body at the foot of the bed during the cold winters; my mother and Lucy were very close to one another. So let’s raise a toast to Lucy, and to all the rest of Man’s best friends who have made our lives a little bit better and joyous with their unconditional love and affection. May the friendship, love and companionship continue!

(Continued from last week) Once your child reaches secondary school, there’s little doubt the whole pocket money issue will need to be renegotiated. Suddenly, your child is going to find they ‘need’ a lot more things – the latest iPod, new DVDs, and branded clothing.

For a teenager, there’s a lot of pressure to ‘fit in’ – but don’t just cave in and give them more money when they’ve run out or buy whatever they want. Instead, use this as an opportunity to teach them about the value of things and the importance of saving.

You might like to agree to pay for the necessities while giving pocket money for the entertainment part, so decide with your child what you will and won’t pay for. Extras could be things like going out with friends, fast food, snacks, beauty supplies, and CDs or DVDs etc. For bigger purchases, perhaps you can agree to pay for half of it while they save for the rest themselves.

 The best time to pay your child is at  the beginning of the month, which has to last them till the next month – this will start teaching them the importance of budgeting and make them think about what they spend their money on, rather than blowing it all in one go.

 Tips to consider:

• Show them that the most affordable clothes can still be stylish, and that there isn’t always much difference (other than price) between these and branded labels

• You may be willing to pay for some more expensive items if they are happy to choose cheaper options elsewhere

• Help them think for themselves by making them aware of peer pressure and advertising

Grandparents (or Uncle-Aunty) and pocket money

Pocket money can be a tough subject even for Grandparents, so it’s no surprise that grandparents often feel a little unsure when it comes to deciding  what to do. If you’re a grandparent wanting to give pocket money then do consider my previous advices, and give the money according to how you think is best. If you would like your grandchild to earn their money then put a list together of small tasks you know they could handle, keeping in mind their age and size. Windows need cleaning? You know who to ask!

It’s probably a good idea to talk over your plans with your grandchild’s parents, this way you can avoid stepping on anyone’s toes. If the parents feel that their child is already receiving enough money, then consider investing what you was going to spend into opening a recurring account in the minor’s name. Pocket money can come and go, but savings may help your grandchild later on in life when they really need it.

Children saving pocket money

We’ve spoken a lot about doling out pocket money and how it should be spent, but remember it can also be a useful tool for teaching your kids how to save. In a recent survey the children who took part said they would like to know more about saving, so make sure to guide them in the right direction. You can also encourage your child to keep some of their money for themselves, while putting the rest in a bank account, where they can watch their savings grow and save for something really special, like a bicycle or iPod etc. (Concluded)

The writer is the Principal Financial Planner at EconPenny. Readers may send their queries to dipankar.jakharia@gmail.com Ph: 09854089580