To SEPARATE Certificate

Soon after graduating in 2007, my then-girlfriend (now my wife) and I took a bold step that felt nothing short of history in the making. We slipped away from the last day of our Choeshay session, presided over by the venerable Yangpoi Lopen Chhimi, to pen the first page of a new chapter in our lives – our marriage. 

The mission was clear but challenging: to obtain our Marriage Certificate (MC), the legal testimony of our union. 

We were advised that it would take at least 3 official days. As much as love has its own urgency, we needed it for the placement. After relentless pleas and sincere petitions, the High Court of Samtse acknowledged our hope and gave us what we sought – in just a single day.

 

When Placement Became Displacement

Barely 2 days had passed since our MC was issued when the placement orders arrived. I was placed at Samtse while my wife, Sonam, to Mongar, the eastern part of the country. 

The ink on our certificate had hardly dried before it faced its first test. Fearful that the very purpose of our MC would be defeated, I approached the Ministry of Education to place us together. Surprisingly, my appeal was accepted without hesitation, and I was allowed to join her in Mongar.

In that moment, I realised in the strength of our certificate. It was not just as a piece of paper, but as something sacred. Something that mattered.

At the time, I believed our MC was the youngest in the world to have been put to such meaningful use. With reverence, I submitted a copy to the District Education Officer in Mongar. I was certain that age did not define its value. That its truth and its justice would speak for us.

 

The Certificate That Betrayed Us

But life, it seems, had a cruel twist in store. Despite all our efforts, we were placed apart again. I was struck by disbelief. The MC, which once felt like a shield, now seemed hollow. Powerless. It's legal muscle – gone.

The District Education Officer’s words during the time of our placement crushed me further.

“You have provided the legal document as required, but if both of you are placed together [in one school], one of you might be a wastage.”

“Wastage?” I echoed in stunned disbelief. “In what terms?” 

“You both teach the same subject.”

What a devastating blow. Was this really an educated man speaking? Were we truly the first couple in the system to share a profession? 

I responded, though barely holding back the flood of emotion within me.

“Are you suggesting we should have chosen subjects to suit our marriage? Should we have had a subject-based union, not a heart-based one?”

But my words fell flat against his indifference. I watched as his face flushed, his composure fraying at the edges. I could feel his frustration boil over, but even that paled in comparison to the storm inside me.

 

In the Same District But World’s Apart

Despite the ache, I joined the school. Alone. In a separate school. 

A year later, my wife left to pursue further studies. Then I applied for a transfer and I was placed at Kabesa Middle Secondary School in Punakha. Hope glimmered again when, 2 years later, she was placed at Dechentsemo Central School in the same district. We thought perhaps this time, fate would favour us to serve in the same school together. 

But no. Despite our proximity, we continued to live apart. Our MC, once sacred, now mocked us. 

That same year, I applied for an internal transfer– pleading on personal and financial grounds. I poured my soul into every word, every appeal, whenever District Education officials visited. I watched them nod, say the right things. But nothing changed. As usual.  

6 years on, our MC had lost every ounce of legal strength. What once symbolised unity had become the document that ensured our separation.

It whispered 2 painful truths to me:

1.    No matter whether what you hold in your hands is legal or not, when you are under someone’s shadow, there is no right for you. 

2.    If you do not have background or connections, then fairness is just optional and the rules become tools of the powerful. 

Perhaps they will not be bothered by my transfer requests anymore. I will never argue using MC as a legal document to prove my marriage anymore – because it never was. 

I am leaving for further studies this August. My field – Science and Technology Education – promises me a new window for my beginning. A possible escape from the cold, tangled web spun by these human-octopuses. 

I do not wish them harm. But if there is one wish, I carry every day: may I never see them again.

The more I dwell on it, the deeper it hurts. These people, perched on high rungs of authority, preach about service to King, Country, and People. And yet, they cannot even protect the dignity of those who walk within the bounds of the nation’s laws.

 

To Separate Certificate