A Dangerous Thruelbub Belief

It's dangerous to believe that you could wash away the sins (Lay) you have committed, bad deeds you have done, or harm you have caused to others just by bathing on #Thruelbub or visiting a temple.

No, you have to be good and do enough good to outweigh the bad you have done. There is no erasing or washing away the bad you have done. You can only drown them in the sea of good you do.

Don't be fooled into believing that a shortcut exists. A day like Thruelbub is rather a good day to stop being an a**hole and start being a good human that everyone is capable of.

Thruelbub is a good holiday to celebrate with your family and feel blessed. It's not a day that will wash everyone's sins and set them free to commit more sins for the next Thruelbub. No, it can't be that easy.

Sorry for the bad news, but I hope you had a good time.

Is Mathang an In-law or Cousin?

I have a strange reputation among my wife’s kins for ‘shamelessly’ calling every one of her female cousins as my mathang. At first, it made them uncomfortable. But now they are beginning to accept it; either they found wisdom in my justification or they found me too crazy to argue with. 

 I was only stating the obvious that everyone from my wife’s side is my in-law therefore all her cousins become my mathang but by some crazy logic, they say my wife’s mathang (some of her cousins and in-laws) become my ana or ausa and that I must maintain ‘ngotsha’ with them. Wait what? Just because all my sisters become her mathang doesn’t mean all her mathang become my sisters. 

What's Ngotsho?

Ngotsha perhaps has no English equivalent word because the concept doesn’t exist in the western world or maybe I am not aware of. To put it simply, I can’t tell a dirty joke in front of someone with whom I am supposed to maintain ‘ngotsha’ relation, like my mother, sister and other female relatives. But why can't I have some fun with my wife’s mathangs? 

 Let’s understand the meaning of Mathang and Khotkin. Mathang means sister in-law, and Khotkin means brother in-law. So far so good. It becomes little complicated when they are also used to refer to the children of your maternal uncle (ashang) and paternal aunty (ani). 

Your ashang and ani’s children are your first cousins as much as the children of your paternal uncles (aku, Apchi) and maternal aunties (Azim, Amchi). But somehow this old tradition has divided the first cousins into two, making one a lesser cousin than the other. With one group, you are respectfully maintaining ngotsha, and with the other, you are quite the opposite, mischievous and flirty. 

With education, cross culture marriages, and restriction from the law, it’s slowly becoming a thing of the past but not long ago, in the eastern part of the country, your mathangs and khotkins were considered the preferred candidates for marriage. Even the parents encouraged it. In fact, your real Ashang and Ani’s children are branded as Serga Mathang and Serga Khotkin, meaning golden cousins or golden opportunity, to put bluntly. 

The fact that you also call your father in-law ashang, and mother in-law Ani is a not-so-subtle indication that that your maternal uncle can be your father in-law or your paternal aunty your mother in-law. 

So, my argument with my mathang is, how can they call their first cousins and immediate blood relatives as mathang and khotkin while questioning my sanity over calling my marital relatives as mathang?

 Isn’t it? I am, therefore, not going to maintain ngotsha with my wife's mathang. In fact, her mathang will be my double mathang.

 When I heard of Dzongkha Development Commission (DDC) borrowing and approving Mathang and Khotkin as dzongkha words and adding them in dzongkha dictionary I immediately wanted to know what the words would mean in Dzongkha; 

I would personally lobby for them to mean just in-laws and not cousins. Let all cousins be cousins and take away the naughty connotation it gives by calling them mathang.

Disclaimer: The culture of marrying Ashang's daughter seemed to have existed even in the western part of the country. We have a living example in my village, but we are not open or proud about it. Not anymore. 

Memories of Playing Degor

The first game I was introduced to as a child growing in dusty playground of Yangthang was degor. The game needed just a pair of disc-shaped stones and a bunch of friends. In 90s it was a luxury to play any other game that required any equipment. It took a strong string to make a working bow and a sharp metal to make a arrowhead, both of which were hard in find in the village those days. Therefore, degor remain the most popular pastime.

Now when go home I don’t see anyone playing degor. In fact the huge craters we created on either end of the degor range over many years have disappeared, without leaving any trace of so much memories. Now the elders have shifted to fancy modern archery and young ones are on mobile phone games. Degor has become a game from stone age for them.

However, this seemingly outdated team game actually may be the ancestor of all the other indigenous games that emerged over the years, be it khuru or archery. With the history of centuries of monastic influence and dominance, the game that monks predominantly played could be traced back as the first of its kind, if proper research could be carried out. Degor was the only form of entertainment that wasn’t forbidden in the monastic institution in the past. Monks could be seen playing it outside their Dzong or dratshangs. We have heard of incidences of monks getting punished or even expelled for engaging in game of archery, which is forbidden for monks. This prohibition, though not vividly written anywhere could be because of the contradiction between the nature of the game and the basic Buddhist conducts. Archery, unlike degor, is a lavish game that involves possession of bow and arrows, colorful flags and women dancers. Degor on the other hand is just a pair of rocks, which is why monks were confined to playing just degor.
The pair of rocks is but not as ordinary as one would assume, I remember scouting by the riverside for hours looking for the best pair of degors, while we could see the elders crafting out their pair from a large chunk of rock and carefully chipping it over hours at end. Each piece was so unique that we could identify the owner.

After the game, everyone left their degors in the playground, while some would find a safer place to hide theirs. No one would touch someone else’s degor, though some close friends would switch at times.



The most exciting part in the game of degor is the drama and suspense of scoring. The degor that has land on the target can be knocked off any moment by an opponent or at times accidentally by a team mate. Therefore, we would keep those sharpshooters with bigger degor toward the end to do that job. Similarly, a degor that’s nowhere close to the target can be pushed in onto the target, often accidentally. So the drama is intense until the last of degor has landed. 

Then the suspense of scoring begins. Because the target that’s a wooden peg nailed into the ground and is not visible, we can’t say whose has scored when there are more than one degor around the target. We have to hold on to our celebration until each degor is scrutinized by the two team leaders. We use indigenous measurement system of tho (Stretch between the tip of thumb to the tip of middle finger) and sow (breadth of a finger) to negotiate scores. Any degor within a tho range will score a point unless countered by an opponent’s degor that’s closer. There would be another round for drama while negotiating point, especially if we have someone who could cheat smartly by kicking away opponents’ degor or kicking in a teammates’ degor in a blink of an eye.

The excitement, drama, and all the noises have faded away with time, the playground looks desolate with haunting silence. We don’t even see monks playing degor anymore. The glamour of modern games have outshined the simple game of two stones.

Udumbara, the Mythical Flower in Yangthang Gonpa?

I heard about a mysterious flower growing in the compound of the Yangthang Gonpa that is located on the hill overlooking my village Yangthang. They told me that the flower was the mythical Udumbara. I have played in the courtyard of the Gonpa on many occasions as a young boy but I have never heard about any special plant growing there. 

Yangthang Gonpa, In its glorious form after the reconstruction that is funded by His Majesty.

The caretake Asha Kadi from my village, told me that the plant was believed to be brought there by a Tibetan Drupthob in the 15th Century. The Drupthob was on a lifelong pilgrimage and had promised to plant the last seed of the flower in the place he would end his journey. Yangthang Gonpa was where he was said to have ended his journey, before he returned to Tibet. Along with the flower seed he planted he also left behind a Tashigoma (Tashi-Gomang), which he had carried throughout his journey.

The Chest that holds the Drupthob's Tashigoma. One of the most beautiful Tashikoma I have ever seen (I have the picture of  the Tashigoma)

'Udumbara' is a Sanskrit word meaning 'An auspicious flower from heaven'. It's said that the pure and holy flower blooms once in every 3000 years. A buddhist scripture (The Huilin Phonetics, Vol 8) has this to say about the flower:

“Udumbara is the product of ominous and supernatural phenomena; it is a celestial flower and does not exist in the mundane world."

However, the mythical and mysterious flower, according to online sources, was sighted across the world in different countries. One popular claim is that the flower looks like a tiny white bell on a silken thread, with no leaves and nothing green on it. There are pictures taken by different people, available online. However, science has explained that the alleged flower was rather the egg of lacewing insect.

Another literature claims that Udumbara is the unseen flower of fig tree. It's 'unseen' because it blooms inside the fruit of the fig tree. Both the claims define Udumbara as a tiny little flower without leaves.

But the Udumbara at Yangthang Gonpa is a big green plant that could not be identified with any species of plant so far. It's said to bloom on the 15th day of the auspicious fourth month every year. This year, according to the belief, the flower should bloom on June 2 but the caretake Asha Kadi told me that on the night before His Majesty's visit to Yangthang Gonpa five petals opened. His Majesty has asked about the plant and also looked at the Tashigoma.

Until the plant is identified as another worldly plant, this is Udumbara. And if it's falsified then the myth will live on.

'Udumbara' of Yangthang Gonpa 

Top view of the Plant.

Asha Kadi explaining the Legend...

*If you know the ID of the plant I have posted please share with me in my comment box.

The Buffalo Horn in Daga Dzong

In my last post I wrote about the mythical treasure of Daga Dzong but I have not discussed about where it came from. I could only write about having seen it for real. It was a 7.2 feet long buffalo horn, which is by far the largest in the world (at least as far as I know).

Illustration of the Horn in comparison to my height

THE LEGEND

The Legend has it that one day in 17th century, people living in Daga Dzong heard an unusual bellow of a buffalo from the deep jungle across the valley. The Lam (ID not known) sent his subjects to check on the animal but upon reaching the site all they found was a pair of gigantic horns.

They pair of horns were kept in Daga Dzong for centuries and over the years, it was said that the horns were carelessly thrown all over the place until one day one horn flew away. It was then that the single horn left behind was received back in the Goenkhang of the Daga Dzong and treated as one very important treasure.

The other horn which flew away is believed to be in Talo Monastery in Punakha (Need to confirm). It's pity that I didn't know about it when I was close to Talo. I visited Talo twice and if it was true it can't be missed, literally.

ASSUMPTION

After having seen the horn itself there is nothing so unbelievable about anything but because horns don't have wings I am a bit suspicious about the flying horn myth. I rather prefer to believe that the horn was brought to Punakha as a gift, because Daga Penlop was known in history has someone who brought the best gifts to Punakha Dzong during those day.

The Three Parallel Staircase, Punakha Dzong

It's said that the three parallel staircase in Punakha Dzong were for Trongsa Penlop, Paro Penlop and Daga Penlop, where Daga Penlop was given the privilege to climb the central stair because of the kind of gifts he presented. Perhaps he must have brought it along with so many ivories he presented to Zhabdrung those days.

But how it reached Talo could be another story or may be it really flew, or perhaps it's not even in Talo. (There is more to learn about this fascinating legend)

SCIENCE OF THE HORN

After seeing the horn, I have looked all over the internet to see if there is any 7 feet long buffalo horn in the world but I found none. In fact, no species of buffalo has horns that looked close to the one in Daga Dzong. Of course none matched its size too. So is it really buffalo horn?

Bongo with Large Horns

As I pursue my fascination for largest horns I stumbled upon Bongo, the largest and heaviest antelope found in the Lowland Rain Forest of West Africa and the Congo Basin to the Central African Republic and Southern Sudan. This animal has similar horns that grow very long. But again how could a pair of horns from Africa land up in Dagana? and More over the world record holding Bongo horn is just 3 feet long, no where close to the 7 feet long mythical horn in Daga Dzong.

Therefore the mystery remains and it's best left that way. 

2015 is observed as Visit Bhutan Year and it's time we Bhutanese visit our own country and enjoy its unmatched cultural heritage and endless mysteries. I am giving you 7 feet long reason to visit Daga Dzong this year. World dreams to visit our country, we are already here!

Disclaimer: There could be factual errors regarding time periods and historical references for which I seek your kind correction. Please leave your comments in the comment box below. 

Haa Dzong in The Parliament

From Drukgyel High School to Paro College of Education my friends Kinley Wangchuk (Takta) used one line to silence me in every debate we had, much out of context at all times: "You Haap, who don't even have a Dzong should just shut up." This is just one among many jokes about me coming from Haa and Haa not having Dzong.
I would ask, "What's in a Dzong?"
But over the years time and age taught me what's in a Dzong; It's the identity of the place, symbol of unity, sentiments of people, storeroom of history, illustration of cultural heritage, and therefore it's everything for the people of the place, but suddenly it felt so hallow realising we don't have our Dzong.
To add to the misery our entire administrative body is housed in an ordinary traditional structure that is no bigger than my village house, it's so ordinary that no one seemed to have cared to photograph it and load it on internet. I could not find one picture of our administration house.

Haa Wangcuk Lo Dzong is the original Haa Dzong. It was initially called Dumcho Dzong Sarpu meaning new Dzong. It's been occupied by Indian Military Training Academy for more than half a century.

Wangchuk Lo Dzong- The Dzong in Question

While I thought Haa Wangchuk Lo Dzong was built in 1913 right after the old Dumcho Dzong was destroyed by fire, which is during the reign of first king Ugyen Wangchuk and when Gongzim Ugyen Dorji was Haa Drungpa but blogger Wangcha Sangay, who should know better, wrote it was "... built by the people of Haa during the time of the 2nd King. It was initiated by Deb Zimpon Sonam Tobgay (Son of Gongzim Ugyen Dorji)" Then it should be much later than 1913. (Click here to read this history of Old Haa Dzong)

Watercolor of Wangchuk Lo Dzong

It was during the time of Prime Minister Jigme Palden Dorji that the Dzong was provided for temporary occupancy to IMTRAT as an interim measure to answer accommodation problem in Haa. The BBS report suggests that Dzong became IMTART headquarter in 1988, Do they mean officially?Because by any calculation IMTART was there before 1964, the year Jigme Palden Dorji Passed away. And following is an extract from Wangcha Sangay's blog that confirms that that it was occupied way before and also the King's words to people of Haa.

In 1970 or early 1971 any way it was When His Majesty the King Jigme Dorji Wangchuck came to Haa for the inauguration of Haa to Chhuzom motor road. In his Public Address to the people of Haa His Majesty the King confirmed that the Dzong and the area surrounding the Dzong belonged to Haa and the Bhutanese Nation. It was not sold nor leased to the Indian Military Training Team ( IMTRAT ). -wangchasangey.blogspot.com

I would like to thank our representative in the National Council, Honourable Tshering Dorji for asking Home and Cultural Minister about our Dzong. When the minister said, "I cannot say exactly when the Dzong would be returned to the people." He means to say that it's a very sensitive issue but I wonder why people even think that it's sensitive and would have negative impact of our friendship with india.
It's true that Indo-Bhutan friendship is more important than any structure, therefore it's about mutual respect and respecting a friendly nation's cultural sentiments. IMTART doesn't need our Dzong, they just need space to function. They know how important our Dzong is to us and therefore relocating them elsewhere should be fairly acceptable to them. 

Wangchuk Lo Dzong- A long time Ago

It's perfectly timed reminder by Dasho Tshering Dorji to his colleague in the Parliament Dasho Kinley Om who made this very promising promise during her election campaign to get back our Dzong. She made it seem so possible. People believed in her. People voted her to power, now she should bring result. And like I believe, the issue is not sensitive, IMTART understands and trust our country's intentions, and they can empathise with our people's sentiments attached to Dzong. It's just matter of approaching from the right direction. Finally I hope and pray Lyonpo Damcho will have more confirming and responsible answer to give next time.



P:S: The BBS Report on this issue seems to indicate they have a misconception that Lhakhang Karpo is going to a replacement of sort for Haa Dzong, which I hope is not on anybody's mind and in any plan. And talking about Lhakhang Karpo, it reminds me of the people who are involved in stealing even from the Lhakhangs. I pray to Ap Chundu to leave no guilty man free!

Bhutanese Mask Collector

Forgive my ignorance but I have never heard of any Bhutanese Mask Collector, or for that matter any sort of collector. We consider that as the prerogative of foreigners. I have rather heard of Bhutanese smugglers who buy antique mask to be sold in black market across the border, never to be seen by any Bhutanese ever. I have also heard of foreigners who collect mask, antiques and ingenious art pieces and fly them away from Bhutan. Many of us are more than happy to see our priceless art pieces fly away overseas.

Believe it or not, there is a Bhutanese who is doing his share of collection. He won't let us sell all our arts to the foreigners. His name is Kelden Jigme Namgay (Call him KJ). You won't believe he is just a two year old if you see his mask collection. This afternoon I went to meet him and with the approval of his parents and grandmother took pictures of him and his collection.  

KJ with his collection

He is not only the youngest mask collector but also perhaps the only collector in Bhutan. He is just an ordinary little boy who is born among the kids who love wearing Spiderman and Batman mask but quite strangely KJ started asking for scary Bhutanese masks ever since he could demand for toys. Sometimes he would ask for a specific mask and his parents have to scan all the handicraft shops. His collection is built mask by mask, from Paro, Thimphu and Bumthang. He knows the masks by their names and can even locate where each of them are bought from.

The Collector. Photo Source: His Parent's Collection

It was this summer that his parents could finally make him happy after finding the last missing piece in his collection: The Dudhar Mask, the white mask worn in the dance of death. They couldn't find it in any of the handicraft shops. It was finally found in Paro Airport handicraft shop. He almost rescued it.

The Last Mask: Photo Source: His Parent's Collection

It's hard to say if KJ was born with that interest or he acquired it later but one thing that we must acknowledge is the way people around him nurtured his unique passion. Children of his age are after Ben10, Chota Bhim, Spierman, etc but remember no child is born with love for cartoon films, it's the lazy parents who let such movies babysit their children and overtime they tend to like it. We force children to like cartoon movies but KJ's parents and grandma didn't let that happen. They let him be different.

KJ lives with his parents and Grandma in Punakha.
Enjoy his collection:

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

Students Pleasing the Rain God

If you are enjoying today's cloudy weather after some many days of dry heat, thank the students of Motithang and Kelki who undertook the divine journey of Kanjur-lingkor around the Thimphu city to please the rain god. The absence of rain may not quite bother the urban population but the farmlands around the city were crying for rain.
Thimphu Thrompon Kinley Dorji and Thromday Education Officer Dorji Wangchuk were leading the boys under the scotching sun. I don't know if they can please the rain god and change the course of natural phenomenon but the event was a big out-of-classroom cultural lesson that the students will never forget. It's the lesson of faith in god, faith in ancestral practices and most of all the demonstration of brotherhood among us and the farmers who work in the fields and produce food for us.

I met the pilgrims above the Tashichodzong and the sight of them pleased me beyond words- I wish I were the rain god. I stopped my car and my family received blessings from the boys. It was an unexpected revision of spiritual lesson in an unexpected place, it's been quite sometime I went on that journey in my village. Salute to the Thrompon who has always held my highest regards and the TEO who took education beyond school, who didn't care if it was out of syllabus. 

Photographs are from Organizer Dorji Wangtchuk's Facebook post. 

Collection for School Museum

I am sharing these pictures with so much excitement. Two members of my club made my Monday with so many artifacts, this is so much beyond my expectation at this initial time. Guess what, they say they have bigger wooden objects collected over the weekend waiting for transportation. I am going with a pickup truck this saturday.

As you browse down the pictures I want you to try naming the objects and stating their uses. Give yourself 1 point for correct name and another for knowing its purpose. There are nine objects and the total score is out of 18. Send me your score. I am trying this because in my staff room filled with adults from my generation there was nobody who could score 100%. Sad.

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I am getting gentle warnings from some concerned people about the danger of spirits following old objects I am collecting but I assured them that I am after things that are of no interest to any spirit. As far as I know spirits follow valuable and conflict objects. Or so I assure myself.

A notable scholar, Dorji Penjor agreed to help me put things in place based on his vast and relevant knowledge. My high school friend Kunga Lhendup promised me his helping hand from across ocean. Here at home some of my teacher colleagues are determined to get me some stuffs though they couldn't do the quiz well. 

Do you have something to offer? Please write to me. 

Gelephu Tshachu

I have heard badly about Gelephu Tshachu, and the images of it on media made it worse, but I didn't want to go back without seeing this infamous place. So a week ago I took my family there. It was about to be 6PM when we reached there and men were crowding at the gate for their turn. It was already dark and the place was depressing without proper lighting. I was yet to see the tshachu pools when men started gatecrashing and invading the women's turn. There was nobody at the gate to see to it. 

When all men have climbed over the gate and wall then came a young man who open the gate for me. He blew the whistle as if there was anybody left at all. At the pool the scene was very ugly, men were rushing in and women were trying to escape. I thought that was it. I had seen enough already.

I couldn't agree to myself. Am I going to leave Gelephu without experiencing Tshachu? Am a going to deprive myself of a lifetime experience? Am I going to live with that bad impression of that place forever? 

So last weekend I joined four of my training mates who are regular Tshachu visitors. We made it there before 8PM. There were hardly any people at the gate, which was already open. The ponds were packed and surprisingly there were a few men among the ladies. The whistle blew but the ladies showed no sign of coming out. So we readied ourselves and waited at the mouth of the pond that's reputed to be the hottest. There were over 13 people staring at us from the pond and I could hardly see any space to breath. Five of us were waiting in shorts. Then a man brushed across us and went in. I was annoyed at first but after watching him adjust himself among the ladies with good humor I began to like him.

My friends who were already senior visitors told me that we should subtly slip in like the man. One by one we joked our way into the pond and to my amazement the population in the pond increased to 18 and we were still comfortable. Everybody was so welcoming that I could think of no other people in the world who can be as accommodating and forgiving. I spend the next one hour enjoy the hot smelly water and funny company. There were different types of people coming in and going out, and the friendly atmosphere in the pond remained throughout. Every time a new member came in everybody moved a little bit to make room, and every time someone walks out everybody stood up to give way. 

Seriously I have no faith in the healing power of tshachu, I feel any hot water can have so much healing power if we can soak for so long. But what make Tshachu special to me is the social aspect of it. People from different places gather here and indulge in a very rustic and yet so Bhutanese form of social activity. Where in the world would stranger share a tiny bathtub in minimum cloth for hours? This should be one place to visit before you die.

Health Tips: Tshachu is mostly visited by people with different kinds of diseases, and therefore some caution has to be taken. 

Gawa- The Story of the Fatherless

Bhutanese movies are usually lavish in length and miser in depth with occasional bollywood cliché. One prominent movie director once told me that anything other than that would not sale in Bhutanese cinema. Perhaps he is right because despite the odds he survived as the most successful director in Bhutan.

"Gawa- The Other Side of the Moon" chose to be different because it has a serious story to tell beyond commercial milage. It was inspired by a true story and it has a mission to inspire true stories.

I won't share the whole story here because I expect you to watch it for yourself because it has a story to tell to each one of us. It throws light on the dark side of the nightly rural courtship culture that men engage in for pleasure. And often it's the urban visitors who destroy the lives of innocent women in villages with their empty promises.

The movie portrays a girl, born out of gang rape and abandoned by her broken mother, in search of her identity and hers is the story lived by many children in our country. These children not only grow without their 'father' but also have to face the humiliation of being born that way. The most heartbreaking point in these children's lives is when they are denied civil registration just because they don't have fathers.

The movies has the potential to change the new generation of men, educate the young women, give hope and dignity to the victims and scorn the men who were responsible. At best it should remove the social stigma against victims and bring about the realization that if there is anybody who should be blamed and who should be scorned it's the men and not the betrayed women or the faultless children born out of it.

I wish this movie goes to my village Yangthang in Haa because there we have many fatherless children who need support to live with dignity, women who must understand their legal rights and know that it wasn't their fault, young women who must be educated, young men who must be changed and some disgraceful men who must be scorned and brought to justices because so far they are proud like a mating bull.

My father passed away when I was a baby and I used to think the same happened with my best friend's father. I used to ask about his father and he would ignore my question and turn away. One day he disclosed his father to me and perhaps he must have regretted later because I laughed so hard. I laughed because I couldn't believe someone else's father could be his father. The man he called his father was the richest man in my village but he was in rag just like me. Much later I learned that he was registered as his brother in-law's son in the census. My friend died three years ago from excessive drinking and in his short lifetime his father refused to accept him, though he looked like a photocopy of the man. I heard the rich man paid the cremation expenses of his denounced son, as if he waited for this very day to extend a helping hand.

The fate of my dead friend is shared by over 25 other children from 15 mothers in my village as far as I can remember and everybody in the village knows who their fathers are including the children themselves. People are open about this and women aren't scorned like in other societies but there is no culture of these fathers helping in raising the children. Some father wouldn't even spare a photocopy of their ID card for the registration of their children yet women take it silently.
In a small village of 50 households we are all somehow related to each other, and by disclosing this story I may become enemy of many but I am ready to face it for the sake of justice for the victims

'Gawa-The Other Side of the Moon' ends in poetic justice where the three men are brought to justice in the most satisfying way and much like the movie does its executive producer RENEW shares about having identified 770 children who received help in registration and in going to school. I hope children in my village are among the 770 who found the means to live better by the grace of Ashi Sangay Choden Wangchuk, the president of RENEW.

Movie Poster

The movie is certified to be screened in all schools across the country for educational purpose and viewers can make voluntary contribution. The proceeds from the screening will go into educating these children.

Drunk Chorten on the Sober Road

I was looking for ST Auto Spa, the latest car servicing facility in Thimphu, to give my car a nice treat for the 90,000 km service it provided to my family. I could see the orange building with big signboard but couldn't find the road that leads to the facility. After a short drive I was startled to find a chorten standing on the road, I nearly honked at it. It looked like a drunk chorten on a straight road.

My Tweet! (@Passu_Diary)

For sometime I forgot everything, just came out of the car and stood there wondering what exactly must have happened with the chorten to be there right on the road. I joked about it on twitter but it's anybody's guess that it wasn't the chorten that encroached on to the road. It was standing there for ages not realizing that one day it would be standing on our aggressive road to change.

Religion in School

This topic came up when we were connecting our school activities to GNH domains. Many were confidently listing prayers, Rimdro and religious discourses in schools as activities they have in place that caters to Cultural Diversity. Where is diversity in an institution where one religion is generously practised without any regards to other believes?

I raised a question about how compulsory attendance in prayers and other buddhist discourses in schools might be disregarding children from different faith. And how this is unconstitutional. To which the facilitator, who used to be my teacher in Drukgyel, gave a very satisfying answer. He cited an example from a school in Thailand where the school hall has alters for different faiths, which he said could be an ideal concept. But he said if we are looking for a workable solution then respecting their faith and allowing them to stay away from normal religious activities could be realistic. However, he said, the best solution is to educate the children to such depth that they attain the openness to embrace the diversity, and be able to accept and tolerate. That sounded the most difficult and most convincing. Only this has the long term value which we are seeking. 

The Truth Behind 'Annual Bath' Jokes

Thruelbub is the day when all our water sources are believed to be blessed and because the blessing falls in the form of divine rain, thruelbub is translated into 'blessed rainy day'. Sometimes it's a sunny blessed rainy day. I see more sense in maintaining the word 'Thruelbub' even in English rather than trying to translate everything into foreign language as if we are predicting the extinction of own language.
Well, on 'thruelbub' every Bhutanese takes a cleansing bath with load of optimism that their body and soul will be purified and that all their sins will be washed away by the water that is blessed. There are religious texts that say how we sin everyday, knowingly and unknowingly and the implication of these sins in the afterlife, yet there is thruelbub that claims to purify us of all our sins, which could mean we could walk clean after the bath no matter how much we have sinned. It's toppling my beliefs, but I am sure if we use a good soap our bodies will stop stinking. For soul, it will take more than a bath in holy water.
There comes the popular joke that thruelbub is an annual bath for Bhutanese, and among good friends we send our greeting like, 'Finally the day has come for you to bathe, please don't miss it'. And some foreigners also assume that we only bathe on this day. It's not true anymore. We shower at least once in two to three days if not daily and even in villages bathing has become a weekly ritual. Therefore the 'annual bath' is an annual joke.

Photo by   John Wehrheim

But once upon a time, when we didn't have toilets, when we didn't have water supply in homes, and when electricity was not there- which is during my childhood in village, 'annual bath' wasn't a joke. I saw people washing their face sometimes, and washing their heads ahead of important occasions but I never saw anybody bathing. Thruelbub is not popular in my village but we have our own annual cleaning day, which is one day ahead of Lomba. On that day our river used to turn black. Every corner of the house gets cleaned, every piece of rag gets washed and every member of the family takes their turn in Menchhu tub. I can still smell the thick layer of cheese-like dirt floating on the wooden tubs. Well this is too much of 'selling my own village talks' but that was what used to happen not long ago. and like thruelbub we also believed that our souls will be purified.
If 'soul purification' value is not attached to the bathing then perhaps our folks would have never bothered to get themselves naked and wash their body fully any time in their lives. Thanks to the day, our folks bathed fully at least once annually.
Happy Thruelbub to all my readers. Optimism is good, but only goodness will purify your soul.

Preserving Paro Town

My visit to Paro last week gave me an opportunity to look at the town in a whole new perceptive. I have spent seventeen years of my life in Paro but it never felt that way until I spent these five years away. After having seen the changing faces of many Bhutanese towns the old street in Paro town is something that made me stop and wonder and then wish.

The Beautiful Paro

Paro Tshongdue the forgotten names means the business place, where the Bhutanese and Tibetan businessmen met to barter their goods long before we knew India and Bangkok. This town has history and it has the structural design well preserved to be called the Iconic Town of Bhutan. Interestingly many of these houses are converted into Handicraft showrooms thereby promising to remain so for years. But the desire for bigger and better houses has slowly eaten away at least two houses and many might want to follow soon. 

Government could adopt the street and preserve it creatively, without hurting the sentiments of the landlords and without freezing their desire to move forward. 

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The Last Bhutanese Town, Paro

Towns bigger than Thimphu are bound to come with time but if we lose Paro history may never forgive us.

Archery: The Lost National Game of Bhutan

Bhutan's biggest fear, when we first ushered into the global community was losing our culture amidst rapid change. Our timid country soon joined the race, and surprised many a country with our ability to balance development with preservation.

Picture Source: BBS Website

However, despite all the effort, we saw the inevitable power of change crossing the limits. While there are many issues identified and addressed, there are a few bigger problems totally ignored. One such problem is our National game, which is already lost but it doesn't seem so because another form of archery has picked up. The actual national game archery is played using bamboo bow and arrow, which requires more skill and strength than money to play. 

If American Hunting bows and arrows, equivalent to guns, are considered substitute for our National Game, then one day Crossbow will make its way into our game, and then the guns themselves. Ten years from now we may have to take our children to museums to show what our national game was like. 

My Dream of Lungtenzampa Bridge

A bridge is a symbol of art, landmark of the city, an icon of development of a country. But what is Lungtenzampa Bridge? In the heart of Bhutan's capital city, where it should have been a beautiful bridge that could live up to the legend of the bridge of destiny lies a dumb-looking engineering blunder. 

It is not pleasing to look at, shapelessly huge and rough, giving an outline of a sleeping elephant seal. It is not friendly for pedestrians to cross and worse is when the summer rain dams up in its enormous depression right in the centre of the bridge. If Phajo Drogom Zhipo and Khandro Sonam Palden had this bridge between them then, they would have gone back rather.

Lungtenzampa- photo by Ugyen

18 Century Wangdue Bridge

Bhutan had built beautiful bridges way before London had the Tower Bridge (1894) or San Francisco had their Golden Gate (1937). We had built them without a piece of iron or a spade of cement.  Without even a drawing. We have history. But history only. Today France has Millau Bridge, South Korea has Banpo Bridge, Singapore has Henderson Waves, China has Hangzhou Bay Bridge, Brazil has Oliveira Bridge, Germany has Magdeburg Water Bridge… all masterpieces of their country's architects and all landmarks of their countries. But what do we have? Lungtenzampa Bridge? If Zhabdrung came back he would die of shame.

I dream to see a Bhutanese masterpiece stretch over the Wang chu one day, that is so beautiful that we are proud to step out of our car and walk over it in the evening, that is so unique that when the world sees it on TV or internet they know that it is in Bhutan, that is so intelligently built that there is way out for the rainwater and way across for people, that is so iconic that it changes the face of Thimphu.