Bhutan Literature

“ Does your meme go for kora?” grinned one of my colleagues as I arrived in my office.

“Yes, everyday, why?” I enquired though not very interested.

“ Don’t ask me why,” he retorted. “My meme has found a new abi for himself. I thought he always went for kora everyday but he was busy doing kora on top of new abi.” I laughed at his remarks. “ Don’t laugh. Just check what your meme is upto. He may be busy too?” he cautioned. Then he remarked with remorse, “ I have extra dead body to cremate now. One dead body collecting another,” and left the room. I smiled after him.

Every night after the dinner, I usually spent some time talking with my meme in his bedroom. That night I teased him. I told him that I heard he was trying to impress one old lady. He looked offended. He wanted to know who had told me about it. I lied to him that someone who goes for kora regularly had seen him going around with an old lady.

“I think he must have seen me go out to drink some wine at a shop near hospital with abi Tshomo Ama?” he tried to explain. I reminded him that he should not be drinking as it would affect his body pressure. He felt guilty about it and didn’t say anything. Instead he told me to go to my room and sleep.

However, as we talked about other things, he did mention about some of the old people having discreet relationship. Many old people came to Memorial Chorten everyday for many reasons. Some to pray and do kora and chag while others for many other reasons. It was an escape for many of them from children and spouses of their children who failed to understand them. They gathered at the mani dungjur and talked about everything under the sun. Some of them found new company, especially for those who lost their partners while many others, like my meme, it was an opportunity to wet his throat with some wine and be amused with the talk of people of his age and like.

The next day happened to be tshe chenga. As I returned home from my office in the evening, I decided to go to the chorten and pray and also do some kora. There were many people doing kora around the Chorten. As I finished my kora, I went looking for my Grandfather thinking that I would take him home with me. I knew that he would still be at the Chorten because during the auspicious days, he always came home late. I found him at one corner of the chorten outside talking to three other old people. As I called him, he looked at me with surprise and remarked, “From where did you appear?” I told him that it was Tshe Chenga and had come for some kora. I asked him if he was ready to go home and he said yes. All his friends wanted to go home too so I thought I will drop all of them home.

Along the way, they were busy talking about the things that happened during the day and all of them seemed to enjoy laughing about whatever that had happened. In between their conversation, I decided to tease them so I said, “old people seems to be getting partners easily than young people. I am young and not married yet but I think many of you have got new partners already?” As I said this, there was a deep uncomfortable silence. “ What happened? Everyone have stopped talking when I said about partners!” I enquired teasingly.

“Everyone desires to live long, yet not to be old. You will understand this when you grow old like us,” came a soft voice from the back.

“Young people will not understand this. My son’s wife thinks that I should eat what is given and not complain whether it is cooked well or not,” added another. “They don’t understand that hard cooked rice chokes us. For them we are fit to look after their children and be at home. When I sent my son to school, we didn’t have anything. My three other children worked hard so that this son of mine would not go hungry while at school or be ashamed of his poor family back home.” There was a long silence. I decided to treat all the old people to some beer. As we drank some beer, we were able to talk more freely.

As we drank, my meme tried to explain how he felt about being old. “ Growing old is inescapable. If we have to live long, we have to grow old but our difficulty is not about growing old but adjusting ourselves to the social rules wanting us to behave in terms of what society has defined as proper for our age—like looking after grandchildren and offering prayers.”

“Back in our village, people consult us first whenever they do something even if they have to decide otherwise. That gives us a feeling that we are at least a head of the family and that we are responsible for our family but I think we are now estranged,” muttered one of the old man as he gulped down some beer from his glass.

“But what about the new abi? Do you look for new abi to prove that you are still young?” I quizzed them. We all laughed.

“Old people tend to get lonely, especially after the death of their partner. We look at people of our age to fill in the place of our lost partner to give us company so that we are not lonely anymore,” clarified one of the old men. I thought it made sense to me. “When we are children we take what is given, in youth we search to make something of ourselves and in adulthood we were often compelled to take what some people think is good for us. When we are old, we are on our own like a lone tree on the side of the road,” he continued.

After I dropped the old people to their home, I returned and thought over it many times. I think there was ancient wisdom seeping down from the wrinkled faces of old people. I think it is a sign of impending degeneration of Society. We are not doing a good job if we just provide for their physical needs while ignoring their emotional and psychological needs.

Life at old age, as we all believe is not as easy as following doctor’s prescription. Every person is an individual, with his own sense of the values and of the fitness of things. Every person has to assess his own possibilities, set his own goal, and prepare himself to reach it, with happiness and enthusiasm.

Wamrong is one of the three Dungkhags (sub district) in eastern Bhutan covering two gewogs (blocks) of many hamlets, villages and people. Until recent past, it had three gewogs under its jurisdiction. However, when the political delimitation was carried out in 2007, it lost Nanong to Pema Gatshel Dzongkhag (District). Wamrong, as a main village still exist some 25 kilometers from the Wamrong Dungkhag.

How Wamrong came into existence is a story worth being written down before it is forgotten. Its history may evaporate along with the land itself. Today, Wamrong remains just a lunch stop for travelers to Trashigang and Gudama ( Samdrup Jongkhar). Due to excessive deforestations and loose soil, massive landslides occurred few years ago and washed away many land leaving people uncertain of the future. Bhutan Government, understanding the magnitude of the problem, resettled many farmers by giving some land to cultivate in Southern Bhutan. Those who continue to live in villages there survive on the perils of waking up dead or alive near the river. Monsoon is awaited with excitement and fear. Excitement, because they are depenedent upon rain to cultivate their farms and scared because the same monsoon which keeps their family alive with food supply would take their lives and their land.

The name Wamrong was derived from the word Wagom, which means beehive in Sharchop language. This places was famous in earlier days for the production of honeycombs. It is being said that an official called Kuenzang Dhendup who was sent to collect taxes happened to impregnate a woman in Khaling. The son, Dhendup, grew up to be a tall and very handsome young man. However, he did not see his father because the father had left for the capital to attend to his duty. Although people revered him as a son of a government official, he did not like the idea of being without a father. So he decided to leave Khaling and go somewhere and start his own village. After traveling for few days, he arrived at the present day Wamrong village which he found suitable because of abundant pasture for the cattle and warm climate. After he and few people settled down, other villagers from other part followed him and soon it was village. However, the other people had come for different reasons. They had come to escape heavy taxes that were being levied upon people those days in the form of cereals, clothes , wine and labour.

Dhendup however, did not want to risk being sent bangchen garpas to punish them for avoiding taxes. Bangchen garpas were officials who served the governors those days and they were infamous for their cruelty. So he collected taxes like honey, woven clothes, butter, cereal, crops, wine and other items being imposed and deposited it to Trashigang Dzongpon (the Governor of Trashigang). This form of taxation continued to be paid for four successive generations until his great grandchildren like Thinley, Sangay and Tshewang became grandparents themselves. Then the country had moved from barter to monetary economy. However, people preferred to exchange goods instead of paying cash because people did not have cash very often. The only time they saw money was when they traveled for a week or so to Gudama, the nearest border town and sold out oranges. With the money that they got, they brought back cotton yarns to weave clothes, mustard oil and salts. Those who went to Gudama were not allowed to enter home as soon as they arrived. They were required to live in barns near the house and avoid contacts with other people due to the fear of contacting Tshatpa or malaria being brought from the border. Those days, there were little known cure for Tshatpa and it was the most dreaded disease those days .Those who suffered Tshatpa risked the danger of being ostracized by the society and most died painful death. The same was the case for other epidemics like small pox and leprosy. Many people died in many villages but it is suspected that people must have died of ostracization more than the disease itself.

Few years later, the road from Samdrup Jongkhar to Trashigang.The road cut travel time to Trashigang and Samdrup Jongkhar to just a day from a week. People no longer bothered about the malaria and other disease because by then they had hospital a day walk from their home. Patients could at least go to hospital even though people needed to carry the patients on the back.

When the road was first built, people marveled at the huge trucks carrying the stones and sands. People waited by the roadside carrying eggs in their hands and showing it to the driver so that they could get a lift. The driver charged extra egg saying that the truck also ate eggs like the driver. School children didn’t have school nearby. They traveled to Trashigang Central School in Trashigang to get education. They carried their own stock of food and walked some eighty kilometers to get the new stock. Not all were rich to provide crushed corn flour to their children. So, many had to adjust their stomach to hunger. Shoes and stockings were extreme luxury. They used smoke soot for ink and read under the light of lentsong. Lentsong are pine wood resins which catches fire easily and burns bright. In fact, sending children to school was a burden for the parents because they didn’t have anyone to look after their cattle, fetch firewood and help cultivate land. So when people didn’t want to send their children to school, the officials went to each house and took the children to school. Some parents bribed the officials not to take their children to school.

After some years, those children who went to school got Government job and began to live in comparative luxury. When they went back to villages with their family wearing clean clothes, children in villages began to imagine freedom from ploughs, ox and axe. many regretted for not having gone to school. Many ran away from home and became drivers of lorry after many years of toiling. Instead of wearing clean clothes, most were wearing Mobil stained clothes. The faces and clothes were anything but clean. After sometime, they forgot what the color of the clothes were when it was first bought on the roadside shop. They spend most nights on the way and made their own living. Yet some send back some money and helped their parents and siblings.

Yet there were those who were left in the villages who were neither bold enough to find their own life outside the village nor were lucky enough to go to school. So they became followers of local priests. During the apprenticeship with priests, they learn to make some ritual cakes, read some prayers and make some offerings. They also learn to demand beer instead of home brewed wine and complain about the food and money offered by the host. When the ritual is completed, most are not able to carry their own body on their legs because of excessive consumption of wine.

Ritual and spiritual wellbeing play a very important role in many villages in Bhutan. However, death ritual is believed to be one of the most important rituals because people believe that the deceased need to transit to another life after death. Transition is not always swift because when people were living it is believed that many people have attachment to their wealth, family, friends or unfulfilled dreams and ambitions. Even though they are dead, the deceased do not accept and realize that they are dead. This is where the role of good practitioners and priests come into play. The practitioners and priests help the deceased realize that he or she has died within the time span of 49 days and that he/she needs to find a new body and thereby leave all attachments.If they fail to do that, the soul is known to go through endless suffering of predicaments which is known as bardo in buddhism.

However, many villagers have not been very lucky to get the services of good priests or practitioners who can call the deceased by names and then send the dead off to their next lives. Many were in fact sent to the world of predicaments where the souls roamed in pain in search of path. Having said this to you, it reminds me of the story that I heard when I went to my village sometimes in the end of March to vote. People talked of a widow named Tshering who had died few months before leaving behind seven children. However, only three of them were minors and had lived with her when she was alive. She had died of throat and stomach related disease.

After many months of her death, there was some gathering of villagers in one of the houses and during the gathering, Tshering possessed one of the women present there and demanded to know where her children had gone and requested people to bring them back to her. Her minor children had been taken away by their elder siblings after her death. When she was questioned, she is known to have expressed the pain she went through by living on cliffs, caves and trees. She was known to play flutes very well when she lived. The possessed lady imitated playing a flute.

There were many instances of such possessions being talked about by the villagers. If nothing is done, the village would soon be the village of souls wandering in anguish and pains.

The villages yearn for some good practitioners and monks to show them road when alive and dead. More than the people, the drinking gomchens (lay monks) need good teacher to show them that they have messed the death of many people. Death is as important a part of one’s life as life because it is the beginning of another life elsewhere. We need to reach the destiny and not be caught in the current of bankless river.

All Bhutanese have a reason to look at the future with hope especially after being shepherded to democracy.We have now entered into a new era. We are at the threshold of building a prosperous nation which is also spiritually contended despite many challenges ahead of us. We are a brand new democratic country which has just broken the egg shell and come out after being contended inside the shell for so long.

However, while looking at the future, we are also looking at changing some of the old thinking in the wake of democracy and be renewed by the spirit of democracy and evolve to make it all inclusive by taking all sections of society especially the youths.

Most youths today are so uncertain in their attitude toward their own lives. It is because they all are on the edge where one age merges into another. They cannot live on in the age their parents lived some two or three decades ago to which all the parents and their grand parents are accustomed to and at the same time they are not yet qualified for twenty—first century world either. We never prepared them for that.

And for this very reason the schools in Bhutan today have a role to consider much beyond the daily curriculum. The schools need to understand the background and future of the students and their emotional functioning. It needs to offer help in the change from childhood to maturity. The school can show paths and the student would follow toward something of great value.

So the word “Renewal” is very important for all of us because we live in the era of constant change in all areas of lives. Bhutan has undergone many transformation since His Majesty Jigme Singye Wangchuk came to throne. In fact, the speed of the change has been very swift especially in the last decade and it is expected to come in full force from now on. Therefore, there is a need to look at protecting constitutional right and cultural identity.

Bhutanese have always been guided by the wisdom of the Kings until the last election and would continue to be guided but in the wake of new political changes, we are reminded now to stay guard and protect our rights. It no more guarantees the right automatically as is being believed unless one stands to protect and defend it.

Cultural identity is important not only at the country level but also at the village, household and individual level because people first are themselves before they are part of the family, village and country. However, the idea is not to distance ourselves but to respect the otherness of others and also make it more tolerant in terms of nationality, ethnicity and languages. In a small country like Bhutan, public recognition of the individual identity has great implications to define meaning of our citizenship. Being artist, singer, journalists, adventurer, explorer, social worker, volunteer, writer, etc, all add to individual identity. We learn to melt with the rest of the citizens by melting our own individualism and then become Bhutanese Artist, Bhutanese Adventurer, Bhutanese Singer, Bhutanese Writer, etc. The extent of this recognition can have great impact on the way we look at our youths.

Therefore, we are now looking at someone who can provide us not just heritages passed down from our great grand parents and parents but the new ways of looking at life. We today need multiple heritages like new form of arts, literatures, music, adventures and pioneering challenges. Only then can we define our basic freedoms as our democratic ways of life. We need an assembly not just of talking politicians who cannot live upto their own campaign promises but also of people who have creative spirits. It is time to look beyond. We need people who want to push forward the frontiers of science, culture and religion through exploration, adventure, challenge and imagination. Only then will the Bhutanese learn to share the values and beliefs that older generations dreamt and share. Today, many Bhutanese face the challenge of defining the democracy in its truest sense and not being able to reach to be responsible for the common future of all. We can only learn to accept the responsibility of common future if young people are shown world beyond home, television and school text books.

We are looking at that future where every man and every woman can find a place for himself or herself suiting his or her likings and capabilities. Youth’s idea of democracy is a chance to live beyond just three meals a day and place to sleep. It needs to be provided with sickle to harvest extraordinary abilities in many ordinary people and also be given the ladder to those extraordinary people to reach for the stars. Young generations today are suffocated under the weight of bureaucrats whose thinking have never changed ever since they joined their duty some three decades ago. Therefore, there is a hope that the democracy would provide for new ideas to live on and also create a new political tradition that we can all be proud of.

Bhutan shall never forget that democracy is not created out of nothing in the space. It is the result of priceless experience of a selfless monarch. Nothing can ever replace that piece of history and it would be a tragedy if someone cut it short to suit them and feed on it in the name of democracy which sadly is true and existing in many organizations across the country.

Only when we break from these barriers would the democracy be more meaningful. Being Bhutanese is beyond smiling at the tourist’s camera and claiming that we are happy. It is about finding creative heritage in youths. Then we can say that we are a proud Bhutanese in unison.

When Karma knocks the door of the hut he lives, it is already past midnight. It is late but he has brought some meals for his mother and siblings. His two younger sisters and baby brother looks excited. He hands his mother the two black plastic bags and goes to play with his siblings. His mother returns with food taken from the plastics and hands them over to the children. As the children take the plates, they run their eyes over the content of the food. There were rice, some fried dry beef, fried cheese and some big pieces of pork. As they eat, Karma’s mother looks at him. He immediately takes out some wet currency notes from his pocket and hands it over to her. She counts. It is one hundred and five ngultrum. “ You just got this much?” she squirms.

“There were lot of big boys today,” he says as if to apologize. His mother doesn’t say anything . She folds the money and inserts it in between the belt and her big belly and returns to the kitchen to bring back some biscuits and juices Karma had brought home.

As they sit down to relish, Karma tells them of the number of people who had come and visited the family of the deceased in the cremation ground. The story of crying of the relatives is a joke for them to imitate. Their interest were whether the dead person had rich relatives or poor and how many dead bodies had been cremated in a day. If the dead people were poor like them, there was nothing to be happy about it because Karma could not bring home anything.

Now people may wonder what did this little boy of twelve years do and why his family should be concerned when some people died? Karma and his friends scavenged the cremation grounds in a hope of getting anything from food, money, beer, vegetable, meat and even clothes. His father who worked as a security guard in one of the government offices had to quit when he could not attend duty in time. Even otherwise, there was nothing to cherish in his being a father because every time he came home, he would either beat their mother or the children. So the children dreaded him coming home. It was five months now and they had no news of their father and they didn’t bother to look for them either. They were happier without him.

Since his father never talked about sending him to school, he never showed any interest either. When he was around nine, he would go out with his friends looking for iron and metal scraps everywhere to sell. Whenever they were hungry, they would knock at the door of the nearest house and ask for food. If the occupant of the house they knocked were kind, they would get something to eat or else, they would go hungry until they could find some metals and sell it.

One day, when they were playing near the river, they happened to see some money floating towards them. Those who could swim, jumped into the strong current and took the money. It was a lucky day for them. Those weak ones like Karma went upstream hoping that there would be some money for him too along the bank of the river. It didn’t take long for him to realize where the money that his friend recovered came from. The relatives of those dead and cremated people threw money into the river amidst some religious rites with ashes and wishes. After that day, he didn’t have to look for metals. He just had to see if there were many people assembled in the cremation ground. If they were there, he just had to be there. The relatives of the deceased people fed them with good food and beverages and often sent them on errands to buy doma pani or other things.

However, not all people are generous. Karma ’s luck depended upon the generosity of person who took care of the stores and provision at the place of cremation and also of those who served people coming to pay condolences and his sibling’s luck depended upon him. His luck also depended upon other things too like the presence of other similar children like him who waited in expectation outside for people’s generosity. The presence of other older children meant that he very often had to fight with them.

It was always important that he takes home some money because his mother expected money from him to pay rent for run down hut and to buy other things. To get the money he had to wait until the last when ashes of the cremated people were thrown into the river with wishes and prayers. Most prayers and wishes are made by family and relatives with money inside the folded hands . It is believed that throwing of ashes into the river would complete reunion the departed soul with the original creative forces and therefore the act of throwing the ashes is important for the family and the relatives of the departed. However, it is important for people like Karma too because it is the only time they can get money. The cold water and strong current do not deter their focus. Few dozen children wait downstream to catch the money flowing towards them.

Most people who believes in drib, make a point that they do not enter their house without cleansing with sang and sur. And they would not take edible things for the family from the cremation ground but Karma and his friends’ families sustain on it. They grow there like the scavengers praying and wishing someone with wealth dies everyday. If astrologers forbid cremation of body during certain days because they consider it a bad day, it is a bad day for Karma because he cannot take home any money and food for his family.

Emotion is for people who lose their near ones but for Karma, he has forgotten how many people has come and gone except the death of one young man on whose death he got three five hundred notes in a day.

…soon after he took charges from Colonel Campbell, Colonel Jenkins overran the fertile land of Ambari and Falakata over a pretext that Bhutanese were committing outrages and alleged aggression over their land.

Ashley Eden’s mission had also come to a bitter end with Bhutanese sides charging the British of permanently annexing the Ambari and Falakata and also for refusing to pay the annual compensation related to the Assam Duars. British had also threatened that Bengal Duars would be annexed.

Bhutanese felt that such an act was unfair and unjustifiable since Ashley Eden had signed a treaty. However, the British claimed that the treaty was invalid since it was signed under threat and the mission had only signed it in order to save their own lives.

The war was inevitable.

The British wanted to enforce their demands by coercing Bhutan. They felt insulted and compelled. They decided to annex Bengal Duars, Dalimkot, Passakha and Dewangiri (the present day Deothang). The war was proclaimed on 12 November 1864.

The war was planned from both the Bengal and Assam sides. The Assam side was led by Brigadier-General Mulcaster who further divided his troops into two on the right and marched to Bhutan from Goalpara, which moved towards Goalpara and Bishen Singh (near present day Gelephu) while Brigadier-General Dunsford first assembled at Cooch Behar to march towards Buxa and Balla (the present day Phuentsholing). Another column moved towards Daling (near Kalimpong) and Chamurchi (near present day Samtse) from Jalpaiguri.

The troops which were mostly comprised of Indians carried supplies and ammunition to last for three months. Six hundred elephants carried arms, ammunition and the supplies.

As the troops from Goalpara crossed over Barapeta on the border, they halted to rearrange themselves while they stockpiled the arms and ammunitions in a makeshift godown (store). To this day, Samdrup Jongkha is still known as Gu Dama which is a corruption of the word Godown.

As thousands of troops crossed over to Dewangiri (Deothang) and halted there preparing for war, each of them carried a stone on which they wrote their name and kept on a path junction which they could take back if they were ever fortunate to return. The stones would show how many people returned and if they didn’t it will be a small monument with their names being written for their sacrifice.

Thousands of British Indian troops fought few loyal bands and after much resistance, they took over all fronts. They were pleased with their own successes and underestimating the Bhutanese troops, they decided to disband their main force and leave few armed posts only in their new territory. However, they were waiting for proper time to withdraw.

Before the troops could withdraw, the Tongsa Penlop, Jigme Namgyal brought together all factions of people from across the country and started collecting the provisions of food, weapons and strength. Bhutan was ready to fight back.

On 29 January 1865, Tongsa Penlop Jigme Namgyal attacked the Diwangiri (Deothang) garrison by surprise.

All access paths were blocked and cut out. Food and water supplies were blocked too. The bamboo pipes which provided water was removed in the night at source and in the dead of the night, the camps were all plundered in the darkness.

Many troops perished in the darkness. Bhutanese celebrated success silently while the mount of stones which the British Indian troops built lay there as monument for the sacrifices only for very few ever survived to take it back.

What happened later is history but the monument remained where it lay- forgotten and unknown until ninety seven years down the ages when another troops, this time for peace and friendship from free India cut through the path junction making road for motor and people to ply through where once war was fought. The stones became part of the road and what was someone’s sacrifice remained as a token of lasting friendship between the two countries.

I am Tshering C Dorji from Bhutan, author of the book "Shadow Around the Lamp," "Living the Bhutanese Ways" and " Warrior God and the Mermaid."

This blog “www.bhutanliterature.blogspot.com” is aimed at providing some insights to those small things which we tend to overlook very often during our daily mundane life. It will also supplement the books, stories, poems and articles that I write everyday.

This blog should be used as a pair of glasses to look at the things as they are. I hope it provides a colorful and kaleidoscopic facet of Bhutanese lives…….