Rinzin
Dorji arrives at 7pm on November 8, 2012 in Lobeysa. Over dinner, he presents
me with a worksheet including dates, activities, places, and names of persons
to be met or interviewed over the next two days during our pilot fieldwork
excursion in the Punakha valley as we initiate the recording and gathering of
oral stories and folklore of Lam Drukpa Kunley. Rinzin’s paperwork designates
me as the “researcher” and Rinzin himself as the “local consultant.”
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| Dasho, Me, and Rinzin (my fabulous consultant) in front of Chimme Lhakang |
The
next morning, Nov. 9th, 2012, we meet at 8am at the Pema Restaurant
in Metsina. After a breakfast of omelets and tea, we drive back to pick up
Dasho Kencho Tshering, a 73 year-old retired government minister living in Wangdi
with his wife, Am. Dasho’s wife is the second daughter of the old koe-nyer (caretaker) of the Chhime
Lhakang in Lobeysa, the main site sacred to Drukpa Kunley in Bhutan. Dasho
himself, while retired, still serves many important functions in the local
communities of the Wangdi/Punakha valley, including that of mediator, judge,
and consultant for village communities. As a result, he knows and is known by
nearly everybody. In addition, he is a long-time good friend of Rinzin, the two
of them having worked together on numerous projects to benefit the local
communities. They have known each other for at least 35-40 years. Dasho’s
influence and help turn out to be invaluable to our fieldwork experience.
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| Dasho Kencho Tshering |
Dasho
is a handsome man with distinctive features and long, almond-shaped eyes. He is
fit and healthy, clearly a person who spends much of his time outside. In fact,
we learn that he has just finished harvesting his own paddy fields the day
before. We pick him up at his house, a large, traditional-style Bhutanese home
tucked into the curve of the newly paved road to Wangdi. He wears an
orange-checked gho, brown shoes, and
the usual knee-high socks. A golf cap sits smartly on his head. Since
Dasho speaks no English, he and Rinzin sit in the back seat while Chris drives
and I sit sideways to try to converse with both of them. The day is mild, with
a hazy blue sky into which the mountain ridges seamlessly merge.
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| Wangdi-Punakha Valley |
The valley
floor is a mosaic of autumn colors—the brown of the newly harvested paddy
fields rimmed with bright green from the weeds and growth along the edges, the
gold of the rice stalks laid flat on the fields to dry in the sun before being
beaten and packaged. I learn that the Punakha/Wangdi valley used to be the breadbasket
of Bhutan. Because of its low altitude, it is well suited to the growing of two
crops of rice per year. On our way to the Chhime Lhakang, Rinzin explains my
project to Dasho. The two of them have an ease of communication that clearly
only comes from years of friendship. We weave our way along a long dirt road
through the small villages clustered around the base of the hill upon which the
Chhime Lhakang perches, its gold roof glittering in the early morning sunlight.
Reaching the end of the road, we disembark and hike up the rest of the way.
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| Chimme Lhakang |
As
we hike, Rinzin pauses often to point out certain landmarks to me. First he
points across the valley to the mountainside to our north where the old man
named Ap Tenzin meditated using a mantra given to him by Drukpa Kunley until he
achieved rainbow body (‘ja’ lus).
Apparently, there is a chorten there, which marks the place where he meditated.
I cannot actually see any chorten, and as we discover later in the day, the
chorten is likely covered over with summer growth. Rinzin
also describes to me the story of Am Chos Skyim, the protectress of the Chhime
Lhakang, who was at one time a dangerous demoness. Apparently, she was so
uncontrollable that Drukpa Kunley was forced to take her a consort in order to
subdue her. At that point, she promised to do no harm and took refuge in the
Dharma. Currently, she is the protector of the gsung (spoken and written teachings) and of the lhakang itself. The
story goes that she openly displayed her private parts in order to trap Drukpa
Kunley, who was having none of it on her terms, but who, by making love to her
himself, subdued her.
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| Chimme Lhakang Bodhi Tree |
As
we approach the top of the hill, there is a large prayer wheel on the right.
Above that is the small plateau upon which rests the lhakang itself, a huge
Bodhi tree, and the few buildings of the small monastic school, the lopdra, of the Chhime Lhakang. I am
informed the courtyard of the Chhime Lhakang is traditionally kept completely
clear. There are no buildings other than those mentioned above. This is due to
the fact that DK gave Dharma discourses here to many people and the place
should be kept open in memory of those teachings. We walk around the lhakang to
the entrance, keeping the building itself always on our right sides, as is
traditional with walking around any sacred Buddhist structure. Once inside the
inner-courtyard, we can hear the sounds of chanting and monastic music—drums,
horns, and bells. Rinzin tells me that there is a ceremony being done inside
for a recently deceased villager. He goes inside the main temple to see how
crowded it is. While he is inside, we watch a group of young monks begin to
enter the small classroom across from the main lhakang. They are gathering for
their morning lessons. I reflect that it must be difficult for them to learn
very much when so many tourists are always passing through right outside their
glassless windows. Since we are so early, not many tourists have yet arrived,
but given that this is the height of the tourist season, it is only a matter of
a couple of hours before they begin.
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| Me and Lam of Chimme Lhakang |
Dasho
goes into a side room and returns with the new, young Lam of the lhakang. Since
the old lam has recently retired (the story being that he has gone into
lifetime retreat at the nearby Nalanda monastery), the new Lam has taken over
his official duties. The new Lam, Samdrup Norbu, is a 35 year-old monk, who
recently finished his three-year retreat at Tashigang Monastery above Hongtso.
He has an unlined face with clear, kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. He leads us
inside the lhakang. I have been to the Chhime Lhakang three previous times, but
without any ability to find or speak to the Lam. Since this new Lam has only
been officiating since July, I realize that I probably came during times when
there was actually no one there besides the younger monks and their one
teacher. However, this new Lam clearly knows Dasho and is happy to engage us in
conversation. Inside the lhakang, the noise alternates between the steady hum
of the monks chanting and the louder, echoing music of the monastic
instruments. It is hard to hear the Lam at times and I worry that my recorder
will miss most of his comments. I’d prefer a quieter environment, but there
isn’t much choice.
Through
Rinzin (since the Lam does not speak English), I learn that the central figure
in the chos sham is Drukpa Kunley
(this is obvious as the figure holds a bow and arrow, and there is even a small
representation of his hunting dog by his side). To his right is a large statue
of his brother, Ngawang Choegyal. For all Bhutanese, there is no controversy
concerning whether or not Drukpa Kunley had a brother. From the point of view
of scholarship on Drukpa Kunley, this is a contested issue. Some accounts
suggest that DK has two brothers, others that he had only one, and others that
he had none at all and that Ngawang Choegyal was actually a cousin or relative.
Given the ease with which most Bhutanese and Tibetans call relatives “brother”
or “sister” even when they do not share the same mother or father, this issue
will likely never be clearly resolved. In any event, Ngawang Choegyal is well
known in Bhutan. The story about the Chhime Lhakang is that it was built by
Ngawang Choegyal, but he was unable to subdue the evil spirits and demons that
obstructed its completion until he called in his brother, Drukpa Kunley. Drukpa
Kunley accomplished what he brother could not and the temple name derives from
the transformation of one particularly problematic demoness into a dog, who
Drukpa Kunley then buried beneath a chorten directly outside the lhakang. Thus
the name of the temple, “Chhime” (Tib. krhi
med), means “without dog” temple. To Drukpa Kunley’s left is a large silver
chorten. This chorten is said to have been made by Drukpa Kunley himself to
house the remains (mala, rice bowl, and cup) of the old man, Ap Tenzin, who
achieved rainbow body while reciting the mantra given to him by Drukpa Kunley.
There is a large Chenrezig statue to the far left of the main chos sham. As the Lam describes the
items on the shrine to us, more and more tourists are arriving. They are
slightly taken aback by the puja being performed and appear somewhat confused.
I can’t help wondering what most people think when they encounter this kind of
thing. Since they are not Buddhist, does it make any sense?
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| Chimme Lhakang Lam and Chorten with Demoness |
The
Lam brings over the items by which all people who visit the Chhime Lhakang are
blessed—two carved phalluses and a bow and arrow. He explains that the first
phallus, carved of wood, is said to come from the sacred gnas of Tsari in Tibet. It is the “original” but it is not clear if
it was actually carved by DK himself or not. The second phallus is made of
ivory, from an elephant tusk, and is said to have been brought by the Third
King of Bhutan to the Chhime Lhakang. The bow and arrow are replicas of the
Drukpa Kunley’s original bow and arrow. They were made during the time of Desi
Tenzin Rabgye—the original bow and arrow are housed at Tango Monastery in
Thimphu. I am surprised by this information, since I have visited Tango many
times without having seen or even been told about this. I must remember to ask
my friend, Tulku Ngawang. Drukpa Kunley is primarily represented in the same
posture as the Drukpa Kagyu saint, Milarepa, with his right hand cupped behind
his ear. Unlike Milarepa, Drukpa Kunley holds a bow and arrow in his left hand and
is generally shown with his hunting dog at his side. The cupped hand behind the
ear signifies the lama’s ability to sing spontaneous songs (Tib. mgur) appropriate to the state of mind
of his disciples. These songs are not composed prior to meeting with the
disciple, but arise out of the quality of the meeting between master and
disciple.
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| Drukpa Kunley Ear-cupping Mudra |
Along
the wall to the right as one enters the main lhakang is an extensive mural
depicting scenes from the life of Drukpa Kunley as it is understood in Bhutan.
The Lam provides a detailed description of one scene—that of Drukpa Kunley
writing a letter to the Lord of Death concerning the catching and eating of
fish by a local village. This story seems to be both an oral tale and one of
the stories found in the Four-part Namthar that I am translating. But most of
the representations on the wall depict stories from the more modern collection
of tales about Drukpa Kunley found in the biography compiled by Je Gendun
Rinchen. Since these are the stories that primarily animate the tradition of DK
in Bhutan, I am only mildly surprised. When I ask the Lam if he has read the chos skad rnam thar he says that while he has a copy, he hasn’t been able to
read much of it since it is so difficult to read. I reflect on my incredible
good fortune to have found Lopen Chorten, without whom I too would be unable to
read the namthar.
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| Lotus Flower in Pond Outside Chimme Lhakang |
After
we finish inside the lhakang, we all go outside. The Lam wants to offer us tea,
so we sit in the cool shade of the huge Bodhi tree and sip our milky tea. While
we sit, I ask the lam questions about his position and his life. He tells us
that he entered the monastery at the age of 11. He himself attended the lopdra at the Chhime lhakang before
entering the shes dra in Punakha. He
then completed his lo gsum chos gsum
at Tashigang Monastery in Hongtso before returning to teach at the lopdra at the Chhime Lhakang. He has
been chosen by the previous Lam of the Chhime Lhakang to take over the duties
of Lam. However, he is “on probation” until he is officially blessed by the
current Je Khenpo as the replacement of the Chhime Lhakang Lam. The appointment
is usually for five years, but can be extended as and if the current person
wishes to extend. Ultimately, there is no time limit. We ask him what his
vision is for the Chhime Lhakang and for himself. He says that he hopes to
expand and develop the lopdra, and to
build a trail up the lhakang that is safer than the current mud path, which
often becomes quite treacherous during the wet season. He tells us that there
are currently 43 monks studying at the Chhime Lhakang and one teacher. The
monks are educated up the 8th standard before they must leave for
the shes dra. The lopdra has been running for the past
eleven years. In general, he feels that he has been blessed by the previous
Lam, since he chose him to be his successor. He feels that he has found his
path in life and he doesn’t really feel there is any other path for him. As he
speaks the shadows cast by the moving leaves of the Bodhi tree play across his
face. Various people gather around to listen to him and to stare at us. I can’t
help but like him immensely. He has a very kind and gentle energy and he seems
quite sincere. Rinzin offers to have business cards made for him in Thimphu, so
we take a number of pictures of him in his formal dress standing in front of
the lhakang and the large chorten under which the demoness is said to be buried
by Drukpa Kunley. After a long series of goodbyes, we leave him to his duties
and depart into the bright sunlight back down the hill.
Dasho
leads us away from the main trail across the brown fields to show us the sacred
spring of Drukpa Kunley below the Lhakang. When he was young and had just
married his wife, the second daughter of the then koe nyer (caretaker) of the Chhime Lhakang, he often worked to
carry water up to the Lhakang from the spring. He even had a donkey that he
used to bring water. His wife too, was often employed in this work. Given that
the spring lies a fair distance down the hillside, such work would likely have
taken up a substantial part of anyone’s day. We meander down through paddies
until we come to a small, oasis-like patch of land tucked under the hillside. A
small house is there with a huge, black pig snoring in the sunlight in front. I
mark my steps around him quietly, not wanting to wake him.
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| Drup Chu Pig |
A few more rough
steps through mud and under green, sparkling bamboo trees brings us to the
spring, which I learn is named Trim Ser
Chuu, or “Water From the Sand.” True to its name, the water seems to issue
out through a sandy channel. Dasho tells us that when he carried water from the
spring, if some unclean or polluted person had come into contact with the
water, it would be possible to find small bits of coal in the water. Sometimes,
the water source would actually move from spot to spot if it became polluted.
The water is known for being cold in the summer and warm in the winter. And
indeed, when I crouch down before the spout, the water feels warm to my hands.
I splash my hands and face, fill a small water bottle, and sip a bit of the
clear water. Two women, who live in the little house with the pig in front,
tell us that tourists almost never come to see the spring. As we leave, two
small children, a boy and a girl, approach me, each holding a beautiful orange and
yellow-colored iris. They both hold out the flowers to me. I feel so touched.
The flowers are beautiful and it appears that the children thought to give them
to me entirely on their own. I smile and say “flower” in Dzongkha to them and
take the flowers.
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| Me with Flowers |
Our
next stop is a chorten at the turn of the road from Lobesa heading up the
Punakha valley to the Dzong. Here we stop and look down to the where the Mo
Chu/Pho Chu river meets up with a small tributary river bubbling over the
rocks. The pale green of the larger river is unaffected by the water of the
small stream coming down from the valleys of the Dochu-Lha pass. This
confluence is the site where Drukpa Kunley is said to have subdued the Rolung demoness—hence
the name of the smaller tributary river is “Rolung Chuu.” The idea is that the V-shape
formed by the intersection of the two rivers serves to restrain the demoness.
This is a theme I am beginning to note, but did not ask specifically about—the
fact that the shape of the triangle is thought to be particularly potent in
subduing demonic forces or evil spirits. Rinzin tells how, as a child back in
the days when there weren’t any roads, he walked the mule track that can still
be seen alongside the Pho Chuu/Mo Chuu river up from Wangdi to Lobesa and then
up the Dochu-Lha pass. He notes that he and his friends were always frightened
at this spot, since there is an ongoing feeling that this demoness can still
cause problems.
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| River Conjunction where demoness was subdued |
I
am beginning to realize that Bhutanese live in a world that is populated by all
sorts of different kinds of beings, from animals and birds, to local spirits,
demons, evil spirits, and ghosts. Even at RTC, according to some friends who
have spent a fair amount of time having tea with their students, the students
are terrified of staying in the dormitories since they believe that they are
all haunted. Every night, apparently, there are “possessions.” And indeed, last
year one female student was “possessed” to such an extent that she passed out
in class. Various ritual experts were required to restore her to herself. It’s
not clear whether the students were worried before this event, but certainly
since it occurred there is an ongoing fear and even and ongoing experience of
supernatural intervention. I noticed too, as Rinzin was telling me about this
or that location, that he often mentioned his fear as a child of demons and
spirits. On holidays, it is very common to see Bhutanese flocking to temples
and monasteries to make offerings and say prayers that they will not be harmed
or affected adversely by the many beings surrounding them in the environment. I
conclude that what I see when I look out my window or hike up in the mountains
is definitely not what they are seeing.
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| Fire Trees in the Forest |
While a forest, high up in the
mountains where the trees are garlanded with strings of dark moss and the
shadows play across the steep slopes, appears to me as a place of profound
beauty and peace, to most Bhutanese it is a place where spirits come and go, a
haunted and unsafe place through which they pass with great apprehension. Just
the other day, while hiking to a monastery on one Buddhist holiday, Chris and I
were regaled with stories by two young girls also hiking concerning their fears
about the ghosts and demons in the forest through which we passed. It is becoming
clear that one of the reasons that DK is such a popular figure in Bhutan has to
do with the many, many stories about him that detail his skill in taming demons
and demonesses and turning them into protectors of the Dharma. Chris and I have
speculated that perhaps this pervasive sense of the real presence of such
beings comes from living in a country which until quite recently had no
electricity or communicative devices of any kind. Once darkness falls in these
steep mountain valleys, no source of light, other than that made by fire, would
have been available. Sounds, sights, and events occurring without being seen
could and would be interpreted in numerous ways. I am in no way wanting to
discount the truth of what people say. In fact, I am most fascinated by the
fact that Bhutan is still a place alive with energies that most other places
discount. Personally, I would quite like to see the actions of such beings and
to find new ways to experience a reality that my own culture has nearly
completely discounted.
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| Wolakha Paddy Fields |
Wolakha
After
lunch in the rather uninspiring town of Kuruthang, where we eat at a hotel of
Dasho’s choosing (it’s not clear whether he chooses this restaurant because he
knows it caters to chillips or whether he really likes it), we head out to look
for the village of Wolakha, the place where the old man, Ap Tenzin lived and
where he achieved enlightenment by meditating on the mantra given to him by
Drukpa Kunley. Lunch takes a long time, interrupted by the arrival of a huge
group of tourists who gather hungrily around the buffet tables and talk loudly.
There is something about these tourist trains that I find rather sad and ugly.
They seems utterly divorced from the real world of Bhutan and Bhutanese people,
sailing through on their coaster buses from one site to another, eating the
“tourist food buffets” and staying in bland hotels constructed just for them. I
feel grateful to be sitting with Dasho and Rinzin, even though our food takes a
very long time to arrive and we are forced to sit through the noise and clatter
of the tourists’ luncheon.
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| Paddy Field Puzzles |
After
lunch we drive up the road that passes by Zangtro Pelri, one of the most well
known hotels in the Punakha valley. A side road down to the left turns out to
be our destination, but since the road is quite rough and appears to drop off a
cliff, we park the car by the side of the main road and proceed on foot. Dasho
leads us down into a small village where a group of dogs bark noisily at us
until we exit out the other side into the paddy fields. One dog decides to be
our guide and trots along behind, in front, and beside us. The fields, which
are mostly, but not completely, harvested, are spread out like a large, golden amphitheater
in the warm afternoon light. We walk precariously along the narrow tracks that
skirt the edges of the fields. It is necessary to watch one’s step at all
times, since the tracks are rough, narrow and a misstep will clearly pitch one
over the edge down into the next paddy field, a fall of about four to five
feet. In fact, Chris, who has been designated as the official photographer, and
who is following behind, does just this, a fact I learn only when he catches up
and can be seen to be covered in mud from the knees down, his only school shoes
now a pale shade of brown. I hustle to follow Rinzin and Dasho as they move
with the ease of many years through the rough terrain. The famous Wangdi valley
wind is beginning to pick up and the long stalks of the uncut rice ripple like
golden waves. Below us dark green pines trees and a fence surround a small
lhakang. It’s golden roof glitters in the sunlight. It’s solitary location; halfway
between the two small villages is ideal for the gathering of people from both
areas. Seen this time of day, in the wind and the afternoon light, with the
long, fertile valley extending both up and down, this place is almost
unbearably lovely. I can well understand why Drukpa Kunley spent a lot of his
time here.
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| Wolakha Lhakang |
Our
first mission is to try to find the chorten that we glimpsed from the trail up
to the Chhime Lhakang, where the old man, Ap Tenzin, is said to have achieved
rainbow body. Dasho and Rinzin push through the thick growth, climb under
barbed wire fences, ending up covered in burrs, with no sign of the small
chorten. We turn back the second village we have come through, the village
where Ap Tenzin’s house is still standing. After a bit of wandering about (even
though there are only three or four houses in the village) we find an old man
named Rinchen, who turns out to be the koe
nyer of the house. He also claims to be of Ap Tenzin’s lineage—or at
least—his wife claims her descent from Ap Tenzin. Rinchen himself is from the
Wangdi area. Although he is only 65 years old, his eyes are tinted with
cataracts and he appears far older. He wears a woven black and white hat and
old, stained sweat pants.
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| Rinchen |
The wind is now whipping up the valley, so we stand
in the lee side of the house to interview him. He describes how he used to be
in the army and due to that role, he learned how to read and write. This
enabled him to become the mchod pa
for the house of Ap Tenzin. It is slightly unclear how and when he served in
this role, which includes arranging for ceremonies and taking care of all the
offerings that might come to the place. The house itself is being rebuilt.
Rinchen shows us another chorten that marks the first place Ap Tenzin’s family
insisted he stay when his chanting of the mantra disturbed the other family
members with its vulgarity. Drukpa Kunley had instructed him to chant the
mantra more and more loudly the more relatives were about. Finally, out of
embarrassment, his daughters moved him outside to a shed, and then even more
distantly, to a small straw hut. One day, when they did not hear him, the
youngest daughter went to the hut. As she entered, a large HUM shot into the
sky in a burst of rainbow light. There was no sign of her father. Rinchen tells
us his version of this story in his local dialect. I record him, but at that
point am unclear exactly what he says. His wife’s name turns out to be Nasemo.
When I ask if we might interview her (both since she is considered the actual
relative of Ap Tenzin and because I would very much like to get some stories
from women), it is clear that Rinchen isn’t keen to involve her. He rather
reluctantly attempts to find her, without success. Rinzin tells me that she may
very well have disappeared when we showed up, since many villagers are
reluctant to talk to strangers. I’m disappointed, but can only push the issue
so far. Rinchen clearly knows and trusts Dasho, and without Dasho, I imagine he
might not have talked to us at all.
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| Researching with Chimme Lhakang in Distance |
After
finishing interviewing him, we make our way back through the terraced paddy
fields with our doggy friend accompanying us all the way back to the car. He
curls up in the sun by the side of the road as we leave. Along the way back, we
stop by the side of the road below Wolakha and try to hike up through the thick
brush to the chorten we could not find from above. Again, we are turned back by
a tightly strung barbed wire fence and thick bush. We agree to return to this
spot in the winter/spring, when most of the undergrowth will have diminished,
including the burr bushes that seem to be working themselves deeper and deeper
into our socks and shoes.
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| Pakche Namkha Dem's House |
Our
final stop of the day is the Pakche Lhakang, the home of the most beautiful
consort of Drukpa Kunley, a woman named Pakche Namkha Dem in the village of
Pakchekha. By this time of day, the light has begun to fade and the colors of
the surrounding mountains turn to soft pastels of blue, pink, and green. The
wind begins to die down and a chill creeps up the valley floor. The lhakang is
located down in the valley by the river, though high enough that one can easily
see both up and down the long valley. There is a small house next to the
lhakang. The lhakang itself used to be the house of the consort. Here, the
story goes, Drukpa Kunley arrived and Pakche Namkha Dem tried to serve him tea.
In those days, there was no real tea, but only unprocessed leaves. Into this,
people would melt large chunks of butter. Apparently, Drukpa Kunley did not
care for the butter, thinking that it was rancid and therefore threw his cup of
tea against the wall, splattering it. Wherever the tea went, the wall turned to
gold. Because the Lam of the lhakang has just left for Thimphu, we are unable
to meet him. This is unfortunate, because the koe nyer, his uncle, is quite old and seems unable to say very much
about the lhakang. He does bring us into the main temple room and we see a
statue that was made of the consort as well as a statue of Drukpa Kunley. The
statue of the consort was made to represent the lady only recently and is
supposed to show her great beauty.
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| Pakche Namkha Dem |
The caretaker tells us that the inner chos sham has not been touched, only the
outer one. He also points out the wall upon which DK threw the tea. Chris takes
a picture of it and, oddly enough, although the wall looks dark and mottled to
the ordinary eye, in the picture it appears to be splashed with gold! We are
all quite amazed by this. I tape the caretaker, but am unsure what he actually
tells us. Rinzin also tells me that the lineage of this lady has prospered in
Bhutan—that her descendants are quite well off now. Since this is a private
lhakang, it receives no government sponsoring. As a result, the Lam is paid by
the Dasho who renovated and built the lhakang, a man named Dasho Pap Kesang
(not sure how to spell this). The current lam has only been in residence for
about six years. As we depart, the chill of late autumn has descended on the
valley that now lies folded in dark purple and blue shadow. There is something
in the colors of the coming night and in the feel of the autumn air that gives
me a sense of what Drukpa Kunley’s most beautiful consort must have looked
like.
The
next morning we again meet for breakfast over omletes, momos, and tea at what
has become our new favorite local restaurant. A few people come in with the
apparent motivation simply to stare at us. One man drinks three bottles of
extra-strong Druk 1100 beer in liter-sized bottles. He does not appear to eat
anything, just drinks down glass after glass of the most popular Bhutanese
beer. Soon after, we depart to begin the drive back up the road to the
Dochu-la. Today we are visiting a place known as Toeb Changdana where we hope
to find the house containing the ladder into which Drukpa Kunley is known to
have shot an arrow from Tibet at the command of a dakini holding a flaming
sword and wearing a yellow skirt. According to the story, Drukpa Kunley lived
in this house with the owner’s wife, a beautiful woman named Pelzang Bhuti,
fathering upon her a son whose lineage in Bhutan is famous to this day. All
this occurred after Drukpa Kunley tied the husband’s sword into a knot when he
protested the loss of his young wife! While living in Toeb Changdana, Drukpa
Kunley subdued numerous demons and demonesses, farmed paddy fields, and taught
the Buddhist teachings to anyone who was interested.
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| Veggie Sellers |
After
about 15 kilometers, Rinzin pulls off to the side of the road with us close
behind him. Questioning a couple of vegetable sellers sitting on the roadside,
he informs us that the Lam of Toeb Changdana was just here, selling his own
vegetable to the roadside ladies. We will find him on our way down to the river
bottom. Just then, one of the women calls Rinzin back over and tells him that
she has just called the Lam, who has agreed to wait for us. We pile back into
our car and take a long gravel road down to the right off the main road. We
quickly overtake the Lam, who climbs in the back smelling strongly of doma. In
one of those odd, but very common Bhutanese coincidences, the Lam turns out to
have been one of Rinzin’s students in the primary school where Rinzin was
teaching in Wangdi nearly thirty years before. They are both delighted to
reforge their connection and chat animatedly in Dzong kha as we descend the
rocky road.
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| Lam Drukpa Kunley Shooting His Arrow into Bhutan |
At
the bottom of the mountainside we park the car by some paddy fields and set off
after the Lam towards a house that can be seen across the valley on the side of
the opposite slope. The day is mild with a soft breeze whispering over the
uncut rice plants and through the swaying fronds of bamboo and bananas trees.
We wind our way through the paddies and across a river surging down through a
tunnel of dark green oaks. Halfway up the opposite mountain slope, the Lam
stops and points to the paddy fields below us. Rinzin translates his words for
me, telling me that we are looking at the paddy fields that Drukpa Kunley is
said to have carved out in unusual shapes. One is shaped like a large circle
representing the moon, while another is formed in the shape of a triangle to
represent the sun. In Tibetan Buddhism, fire is often represented by the shape
of a triangle.
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| Lam Drukpa Kunley's Paddy Fields |
Soon we approach the house, a large, well-maintained structure I
am told used to be five stories high, but was reduced to three. The original
walls are three to five feet thick. Behind the house, a small lhakang perches
as the edge of the lawn surrounded by brilliant marigolds. The Lam, whose name
is Khandu, shows us into a sitting room where we sit in silence with the breeze
lifting the white curtains and the scarlet faces of poinsettia flowers nodding.
It is one of the most peaceful places I can remember being. There is something
about the light, the air, the colors of the garden, flowers, trees, the golden
rice stalks lying like a complex jigsaw puzzle beneath the warm sunlight, the
rows of slices of cut pear, apple, and squash that works its way under my skin.
The longer we sit in that room, the less I want to leave.
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| Toeb Pelzang Bhuti's House |
Khandu
soon returns with milk tea and biscuits. He has changed into his gho, but his feet are bare and his
large, sturdy hands dark with earth from the vegetables he harvested this
morning. I ask him if he would be willing to share his story and his thoughts
on Drukpa Kunley. He takes some time to compose himself and again we all sit
silently while the sun sends shadows leaping over the walls. I tape him when he
speaks and Rinzin translates for me. Khandu and his elder sister, Zam, are the
only caretakers of this house and the lhakang. The lhakang is private, but has
been set aside as a sacred site by the first king of Bhutan, Urgyen Wangchuk
who had taken Khandu’s great, great grandmother as his consort.
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| Khandu and Zam |
Both Khandu and
Zam are direct descendants of Pelzang Bhuti. Khandu tells us that although he
has been encouraged to take a wife, he cannot bring himself to leave this
place. He says that whenever he does leave, the ladder and the statue of Drukpa
Kunley in the main shrine room haunt his memory and he has to return. He isn’t
worried about the succession of his line, but feels that Drukpa Kunley will
provide when the time is right. He receives no funding to maintain the site and
the temple, but does all he can by selling vegetables and by using the money
left as donation by the pilgrims who come from all over Bhutan to pay their
respects to the saint. He tells us that the lhakang has existed from the time
of Drukpa Kunley, who built it to counteract the influence of a large demon
lying above the house location. Looking up from the house, the demon’s two
knees can be seen, with his head behind them. It is as if he is lying on his
back with his knees raised and his private parts pointing directly at house.
This is a particularly inauspicious configuration, and Drukpa Kunley’s building
of the lhakang is said to completely reverse the negative influences.
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| The Demon's Knees from the door of the Lhakang |
When
he has finished speaking, Khandu takes us through the house. As promised, the
walls are indeed somewhere between three and four feet thick, while the
floorboards consist of a very hard, dark, sturdy wood known in Bhutanese as tsen dey—the most long-lasting wood. The
main shrine room has a large cho sham,
or altar, to the right of which we see the ladder itself. Khandu tells us that
up until about five years ago, the ladder was out in the open for anyone to
touch or see. But since so many pilgrims were coming and some were beginning to
chip away pieces of the ladder to take home with them, it was decided to encase
it glass behind the altar. It is still clearly visible, fashioned out of the
same dark wood as the floors. Khandu allows us to take pictures of it.
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| Drukpa Kunley's Meditation Seat |
He then
leads us outside and into the small lhakang. Again, I am struck by the silence
and peaceful of this place within which color and light dances and plays. I
can’t help feeling that I have tapped into a wellspring of Drukpa Kunley’s
mind, a feeling corroborated by my sense of him when I read and translate his
autobiography. Inside the lhakang are statues of Drukpa Kunley and a large,
fairly new wall mural depicting the story of his life. I am delighted when
Khandu allows me to photograph it.
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| Drukpa Kunley and Pelzang Bhuti |
He shows us how the original lhakang was far
smaller than the current one, which, while still quite small, is about three
times the size of the original. The original is evident from the older style
and very faded representations of Drukpa Kunley and other bodhisattvas painted
on the inner walls. I just want to sit
down here for a long time. But of course, we soon have to leave. I learn that
on the 25th day of the first month of the Bhutanese calendar, there
is a sku mchod of Drukpa Kunley held
in this lhakang for which people come from all over Bhutan. A sku mchod is a kind of remembering
ritual for the saint during which all his stories, biographies, and praises are
chanted throughout the day in a continuous manner. The idea is that by
listening to and chanting these stories, one enters into the mind of the
teacher and receives blessing from that encounter. I have seen this kind of
ceremony performed in the USA by the Shambhala Buddhist community on their
annual “Milarepa Day.”
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| Toeb Changdana Lhakang |
Reluctantly,
we make our way back across the paddy fields in the golden afternoon sunlight.
I can’t help feeling as if I am traveling through time back into the 21st
century from some timeless places of light, color, and sound. The noise and
rush of the modern world is far removed from this little oasis of peace and
warmth. Chris and I vow to return and spend more time here. I think to myself
that each encounter with a new place associated with Drukpa Kunley has brought
me deeper and deeper into a Bhutan that lies just beneath the surface of the
modernization that has only very recently begun to reshape the surface of the
country. But underneath, I am learning that a whole way of thinking, feeling,
and living still plays a dominant role in the lives of most Bhutanese besides
those who have been seduced by the lure of materialism and the flash and
brilliance of modern life in the capital. I realize that I know nothing
whatsoever about this world I am slowly entering and at the same time I feel
entirely at home in it, much like I felt when I was immersed in practicing and
studying Buddhism before I returned to graduate school. I am beginning to
understand on a very visceral level why and how Bhutan was traditionally
classified as a bey yul or “hidden
land” from the Himalayan Buddhist point of view. For those who have no
knowledge of or who have never practiced within the Buddhist tradition, this
might be quite hard to understand, since it requires the willingness to believe
that reality is malleable to the degree that our own minds are malleable and
that a mind at peace with itself is in harmony with the ways things actually
are. But this kind of experience is embedded in the Bhutanese landscape. I feel
it every time I encounter a sacred spot in Bhutan, or merely when I wander through
the land itself. Wandering back across the paddy fields to where we left the
car, I feel infinitely grateful for this experience—an experience that has awoken
in me what in Tibetan is known as mos gus,
“longing,” or “devotion.” Besides the love I feel for my family and friends,
this is the most powerful emotion I’ve ever known. Finding it again lights up
my mind with joy.
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| Lam Drukpa Kunley |
