There's a beautiful folktale in Bhutan. It is drawn on the walls of their houses and their monasteries as a constant reminder of the Bhutanese Way of Life. Illustrated in the Tibetan Buddhist style, it shows an elephant standing under a fruit-laden tree. On its back is a monkey on whose back is a rabbit on whose back is a bird. The story goes like this: Once a hungry elephant came to a tree to pluck its fruits. A monkey came running and said, ’Stop, I have the first right to these fruits as I guarded this tree ever since it started bearing fruit.’ Just as he jumped on to the elephant’s back to pluck the fruits, a rabbit came scurrying and said, ’Hey you guys, I have the first right as I protected this tree as a sapling and prevented the cattle from nibbling at it’. And as the rabbit jumped on to the monkey’s back, a bird flew down and landed on the rabbit’s shoulders and said, ’You may have all looked after the tree in its various stages of growth, but I was the one who brought the seed here in the first place. So let’s all share it and give some to our big friend, the elephant.’ Truly a wonderful food chain where all living things are treated as equal.
The Bhutanese respect all that dwells in Nature. According to law, 60% of their land has always to be covered with forest. That figure stands at a healthy 72% today, thanks to the Forest Day on 2nd December when every year they plant tens of thousands of trees on their hill slopes, across the country.
The drive from Paro, along the blue-green Pa Chu river, was a visual delight. There were pine trees, cypress trees, deodar trees, willow trees and maple trees. And there were yellow trees, orange trees, red trees, green trees and pink trees. The maple trees were looking the most stunning wearing just leaves of sunlight.
The riot of colour continues in their culture too. There were white manider flags that were strung together on poles to pray for dear departed souls, and the 5-colour lungta festoons for granting of wishes. All along the innumerable passes you would find them fluttering in the breeze as the Bhutanese believe it’s the wind that carries your prayers to God.
The Bhutanese, being predominantly Buddhist, revere all things living. So felling of trees (even if they belong to you, permission has to be sought to cut them), hunting of animals (though archery is their national sport), and even fishing for commerce, is a no-no. This extends interestingly even to inanimate objects. Mountaineering is prohibited in the whole of Bhutan as the tall mountains are held in high esteem. The Bhutanese believe that opening up these pristine mountains to humans will only end up with the litter of civilization. The reported pollution along the neighbouring mountains of Nepal and India have only made their resolve that much stronger.
The next day we woke up before the sun, and travelled faster than him to reach Dochu La for our first glimpse of the unconquered peaks of the Bhutan Himalayas. But when we reached there, we realized he was yet to reach there. And we froze at -4 degrees C. Some cameras got jammed, and my fingers too froze just as I focussed on the frozen peaks in the distance.
Slowly the sun appeared and melted our frozen moments, making us realize the importance of the life-giving sun in the neck of these cypress woods.
We drove down to the Pobjikha valley: one of the only five valleys in Bhutan, the rest being mountains stitched by roads. As we descended, I was told by our friend, philosopher and guide Tashey that there’s a unique law in Bhutan that insists that all houses must follow the Bhutanese architecture or else face a heavy penalty. The result was there for us to see. Beautiful houses built into the mountains that looked uniform yet individualistic. And I compared it with the houses in my homeland where great heritage architecture has been summarily replaced with concrete monstrosities.
Reaching Pobjikha by dusk we saw the last of the endangered blacknecked cranes settling down to roost for the night. As I looked at them landing on the dry riverbed, I remembered what Tashey had told me a while ago. These migratory birds, when they first come into Pobjikha, encircle the ancient monastery and then, only then, land on this riverbed. Every year. This could be explained away saying they are surveying the place to make sure it’s safe to land. But they even fly around the monastery one last time before they fly back to the land of their birth. What explains that?
There’s also the romantic story of a male blacknecked crane that stayed back to look after his injured girlfriend. It was only after she got enough strength in her wings a year later that the couple flew off to faraway lands. Talk about pairing for life.
In the morning we drove to Trongsa through Gangtey Pass. En route we stopped at Tashiling, the Land of the Melodious Water. Legend has it that the presiding deity of the mountain here fell in love with the beautiful daughter of a local farmer. In exchange for her hand he was willing to give away anything. Since there was no source of water here, all that the farmer asked for was water, the very source of life. And hey presto, a spring started gushing through the crevices. It is believed that anyone who drinks this water will have a melodious voice. The empirical evidence are the villagers here all of whom are excellent singers. Next to the spring is a giant Buddhist prayer-wheel that is being turned perennially by a gentle stream. When I saw the smiling eyes, young and old, near that spring I realized why the King of Bhutan always talks about Gross National Happiness. The Bhutanese are a happy lot, content with what they have. And this belief is so deep-rooted that they are the only country in the world to have an International Day of Happiness which is celebrated on the 20th of March every year.
It’s a country that has no crime, and almost no corruption. They love their King and their Queen, and have their pictures put up at every home and every shop. Taking advantage of this, the King appears in one of the posters stating in unequivocal terms: ’I am not corrupt; and I will not tolerate corruption.’ Imagine a single political leader in our country with this courage of conviction. As they say in Sanskrit: Yatha raja, tatha praja. The commoners imitate the king. This aspect is also reflected in their national dress. Proudly the royalty wears it; and so do the people.
Our last trip was to the highest pass in our journey: Chele La at 13,000 feet. We heard on the radio that the temperature the previous night was a comfortable -6 degrees C! So promptly all of us wore four layers of clothing and set off in the wee hours of the morning. Soon, the yonder snowclad peaks flashed past our windows playing hide and seek behind the pine trees. But when we landed at the pass it was absolutely comfortable. And I realised the fear of cold is sometimes worse that the cold itself.
Here we set off on the hunt for the elusive Himalayan monal. A bird that migrates from very high altitudes and comes lower down in search of warmth. Interestingly, they don’t fly when they migrate. But merely walk down the slopes.
En route we saw rhododendrons, with only memories of a colourful yesterday clinging on to the dead branches.
There was a waterfall too. And at the bottom of it was a small rainbow. Being close by, I did look for the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow; but in vain.
Though we were looking for the elusive monal, what we saw was a small, nuclear family of the blood pheasant. A bird that looks like its neck has been sliced, and is bleeding profusely.
The blood reminded me of another legend of Bhutan, Drukpa Kuenly. He was a Buddhist monk known popularly as the Divine Madman. Sitting in Tibet, in the year 1499 to be precise, he shot an arrow from his bow and it landed in Bhutan. Following his nose and his arrow he landed here and proclaimed himself to be a Buddhist Lama. When the King asked him to show his resume’, he asked the King to bring him a dead goat and a dead cow. And he ceremoniously joined the head of the dead goat to the body of the dead cow, and hey presto the strange animal started walking. The descendants of this animal still walk the mountain slopes of Bhutan and is their national animal, Yakin.
On the last leg of our eventful journey, we passed by the mighty Mangde Chu river where they are planning to build a massive hydroelectric project to generate electricity that will be exported to India. The blasting at the site rang death knells in my head. So did the acts of sand dredging, illegal tree felling, and manmade forest fires that
we witnessed sporadically in our one-week stay in this land of happiness.
Bhutan is blessed, as far as land to people ratio is concerned. In a land mass that’s equal to the state of Kerala, they have just 7 lakh people as against the 3 crore population in Kerala. Will increase in population, and an all-consuming human greed, result in the loss of this paradise?
Only time will tell. Meanwhile, celebrate the joy of living with the most joyful humans on earth.
