Blissful Bhutan!

Got some gutkha on you?
Gutkha?
Any.. Baba will do..
Na..
Anything else..
No..
What are you guys doing here?
Checking out the place..
At this hour in the dark.. where you guys from?
Just came in.. from Kolkata, India..
Ahh.. you interested in checking out the night life.. nothing open beyond 11 here.. already half past 11.. but I know of a place.. you wanna join?
Where? What’s the scene like?
Am Jimmy.. Jump in to my car..
Avijit.. Gautam?!

With our faces mirroring something between a question mark and an exclamation, as though the morning spectacle of discovering our 9-hour hitch-hiked way through to the capital city of Thimpu from the border town of Phuntsholing was not adequate to fill our adventurous bellies, our skeptical twosome walked into the purple-coloured Zen of our new-found animated-cum-personalized copy of the Bhutan Lonely Planet – Jimmy.

The previous night had been a joy ride of sorts with our Bengali driver halting across the pandals of Siliguri set-up for the famous Devi Pujos. With the festive spirit swinging into action, our next 4-day trip had just kick started with our official duties behind us.

The all-geared-up-for-a-long-journey adieus to our Siliguri Hotel reception early morning had seen us touch the Indian periphery of Jaigaon at the border. Leaving behind our WB number-plated vehicle for a re-tread, the entry into the highlands of Bhutan (Bhu-Utthan – Sanskrit for highlands) through Phuntsholing had seemed a topographical miracle with the 5-minute drive across the border plains leading in to uncover the slopes of a pseudo hill station rather instantaneously.

As the immigration in-charge went ‘Papers’… ‘Click’… ‘Stamp’ to the earlier in line; she went ‘Papers’… ‘Click’… ‘Xerox’ to us.. making us discover our way to the nearest Xerox center a mile away. By such time we returned, the damsel went ‘Papers’… ‘Click’… ‘Stamp’… ‘Lunch’ – the last part there ensuring the pull of gravity from the earth on our knapsack-loaded hinds multiplied a thousand times over.

With our teeth preying upon the juicy patty of a vegetable burger fumbling between crisp salty fries dipped in sweet tangy ketchup, we finally walked to the immigration window just as the sun had begun its descent from the zenith in the azure above. ‘Papers’… ‘Click’… ‘Stamp’… ‘Yeay, Finally!’

‘A little white chorten, a religious stone monument, protects the tip of one particularly tight curve. It must be a good luck sign, a protector of the wary traveler. Behind it, only some trees and grasses obstruct the near vertical tumble into the valley. Massive monsoon clouds loom before us, barring the path and drowning our sight. The air is a heavy white curtain, dripping with moisture. Thick mist is hanging low in the crooks and crevasses of the mountain ridges, filling the valleys and blanketing the plateaus. Although no rain is falling, the windshield wipers squeak on, busying themselves with the endless task of providing the driver with a small, dirty window into the morning wetness. Everything is cold and dank. At almost 4,000 metres, we are not only driving in the clouds, we are breathing them, feeling them, living within them.’
- Britta Das, Buttertea at Sunrise

The drive from Phuntsholing to Thimpu is perhaps one of the best one would come across… as though the heavens open up uncovering their glory with each passing cloud revealing a new image analogous to the shifting patterns of a kaleidoscope… little chortens or stupas by the wayside interspersed with the waving hands of conscientiously attired Bhutanese people anxious for a ride back home along the way where they would slip into the valley at a 90-degree to slope down their way through bushes and shrubs and finally disappear into their mystical dwellings… the scenery of intricately painted houses that bore the mark of a creative mind blessed with a colourful palette and a delicate hand, pungently coupled with the stark aroma of the red hot chili peppers that sun-bathed on their thatched roofs.

The mind-numbing beauty of the unfolding scenery was interrupted by the screeching halt of the wheels into an open verandah by the wayside across an arched gateway covered in green creepers with mauve flowers. Announcing the short halt for a bite, the driver made headway to the rear of the abode converted into a traveler’s sojourn.

With their warm smiles welcoming the guests boarding off the supersize vehicle, two little children led the way into their idyllic house - the entry-hall strewn with tables and chairs spread across in the midst of the overlooking colorful faces of framed Thangka wall paintings and real-life portraits of the throne King and Prince. With the stone walls protecting our tropical bodies from the queer chill that had begun to envelope the evening air outside, it seemed perfect to whet our appetites with the famous butter-tea of Bhutan whilst enjoying the novel Bhutanese musical fanfare that blared through the speakers of the World-Space Radio tuned in.

‘Emma Datschi’ came the instant response to our enquiry of an authentic dish representative of the Bhutanese cuisine; only to discover the rightful place of the red hot chilies was ideally limited to the rooftop else their capacity to create havoc was unleashed in full power once into an Indian stomach, though the Bhutanese are crazy about chili and it forms an integral part of their cuisine. A heady combination of dried chilies laced with molten creamy Yak cheese, ‘Emma Datschi’ literally means ‘chili-cheese’; by such time we could enquire further into the ingredients of our welcome dish, the damage had been done. Dousing the rising flames with sips of water, the imminent emergency on the tongue was salvaged by the mixture of vegetables and spaghetti in the soupy Thukpa.

Thanking our gracious hosts and tipping off their services, we moved back to our vehicle for the last long lap of our journey as the dusk had begun to kiss the darkness of the starry night.
As fate would have it, a half hour journey en-route to our destination, the super-size vehicle tilted on one of its fours with the speedy travel having resulted in an inception of a steely stub in its rubberized innards going beyond the radials. As our naïve driver tried his best to fit an inappropriately sized radial onto the wheel base, our star-gazing capabilities came to the fore with the clear dark sky in the midst of nothingness proving a blackboard-like canvas to our astronomical instincts, satiated through peering eyes supported by a head that had the tarmac as its pillow.

A couple of hurdles being jumped over by the minute-hand of our watches, with no progress on getting mobile again, our eyes began scanning the highway for an approaching set of blazing headlights piercing through the inertia of the pitch dark.

Random hand-swings in the air with the thumb sticking out seemed to be in vain until finally we were back atop wheels; our hitch-hiked hosts were a group of 3 friends who had come in from Guwahati in the North-East of India wanting to enjoy their share of the Devi-Puja holidays as well. Sharing pleasantries en-route, we enquired our way to the prime hotels destination of Thimpu well past dinner-time. A quick meal followed an instant check-in – the stage was set for an exploratory stroll until the highlight of that night happened – Jimmy!

Hurriedly behind the wheel, Jimmy zipped his way through the curved paths as the wind blowing in from the driver-seat window carried a stench of alcohol laced with a generous mix of deodorant sprayed to mask its unglamorous might. Quickly onto the brakes with doors slammed behind us; he led us down a couple of stairs into an alley in the midst of a lonely marketplace.

The heavy knocking on the wood encrusted door led to a head popping out in an ambiguous demeanor; the immediate glimpse of Jimmy serving as a visa-on-arrival with the door swinging back to welcome its unassuming guests.

As a narrow passage opened into a large verandah, our google-ing eyes searched for what lay ahead… the night certainly seemed to have been wrapped up with the chairs stacked in a corner of the acoustics-enabled nightclub.

Drums beaten to the hilt, the saxophone perched atop its wall-stand and guitar strings loosened for the evening, the rock night had just concluded as the 5-member band un-winded with beer mugs frothing to the brim. With side-locks that could put Elvis to shame and curly hair tied in a pony behind their heads, we were in the company of one of Bhutan’s upcoming bands that played in the heart of Thimpu’s nocturnal watering hole.

Handed over our share of malted barley & hops, Jimmy & his band-pals played host to a 3-hour round of nonchalant gibberish interspersed with thoughtful discussion – the topic ranging from the rock scene in Bhutan to student life in Delhi University. Our keenly attentive counterparts listened with a congratulatory enthusiasm, appreciative of the influential role India played in their country’s socio-cultural & economic milieu; as we gave them a glimpse of the life back home, they delved into finer details of how Bhutan was slowly evolving out of its royal past to fulfill the newly-kindled aspirations of its populace.

Back at our Hotel well past 2 am, it took a few random calls to the reception and some stone pelting at the shuttered down gates to awaken our paid-for hosts from their slumber.

A sumptuous breakfast next morning followed a visit to an alfresco stadium in the midst of the city to explore the national sport of Bhutan – Archery; we observed in awe as men dressed in their traditional ‘gho’ robes aimed their arrows from miles away at their puny targets competing in a friendly spirit.

Treading our path through well-tarred roads, our next stop was ‘Dochu La Pass’. Providing a glimpse of the spectacular view of the Himalayas, the 108 symmetrically intricate chortens each dedicated to a specific deity stood atop a mound in the midst of prayer flags fluttering across the vicinity; apparently the blowing winds carry the messages and spiritual power of the coloured flags in all directions bringing multi-fold merit to all beings.

The next on our to-do list – Thimpu monastery was warm and welcoming with its tall, inscribed prayer wheels at the entrance whilst the quietude of the environs provided adequate space to sink in the feeling of being in the silence of nothingness. With large, elaborate paintings of The Buddha stretching across the breadth of the walls, the sanctum sanctorum housed a statue of the Lord on the acme of various levels of decorated metallic shafts each satiated by numerous offerings made by devotees as butter-lamps flickered in the backdrop. Offering our salutations at the monastery and seeking blessings from the rosary-churning, silent-prayer uttering Lamas, we descended out.

Impressed by the aroma of the mellow, soul-soothing incense charred in the monastery premises, we made a beeline for the en-route incense workshop to learn more about the natural, hand-rolled sticks and carry some back home on the return.

The evening came alive with blowing up some ngultrums shopping the Bhutan curio shops for articles & artifacts coupled with discount outlets for Bangladeshi winter wear. A late evening entry into an adjacent club filled with college crowd helped douse the weariness from the exhaustive travel of the past couple of days – Avijit jokingly assuring that he would not return solo to the room for the night; he did end up keeping his word though, his one-off inebriated habits taking shape that evening ensuring my requisite accompaniment on the way back to our room.

Back-strapping our knapsacks and checking out of our Thimpu hotel early morning, we were on wheels again headed for the erstwhile capital of Bhutan - Paro, a 5 hour road trip. Halting mid-way for a dip in the icy-cold Paro Chu (river), the free-flowing unbanked waters provided adequate opportunity to enjoy her abundance whilst lying on the rotund pebbles by her banks.

Checking into our hotel at Paro, the taxi was released for the day after a 10-km drop at the base of our next uphill destination – ‘Taktsang Dzong’ or literally the ‘Tiger’s Lair’. Legend has it that the master, Guru Rinpoche flew to this location from Tibet on the back of a tigress and the place came to be consecrated as ‘Tiger’s Nest’ monastery.

The attraction of the imminent trek lay in the fact that hikes up the steep rocky slopes lead to the monastery buildings which are built into the rock face about 3000 feet above the Paro valley. Commencing our ascend post-lunch, the 3-hour trek lay before us as though an opportunistic challenge to be accomplished in a manner so as to plan our timely descend and return to our night-halt back in the valley before the close of the penultimate day of our Bhutan escapade, the last day being reserved for our journey back to Kolkata.

Along the trek route, blue pine trees colorfully festooned with moss and prayer flags welcomed trekkers whilst providing a shaded canopy from the warmly gazing rays of the sun above. Scattered with numerous temples and meditation sites of Buddhist masters, the sound of waterfall broke the silence as it dropped into a sacred pool forded over by a bridge along the pathway.

Halting at a mid-way café, we were pleasantly surprised to find a large team of westerners - photographers and naturalists cum adventurers from The National Geographic channel headed up as well to capture a glimpse of the precipitous cliff-hanging monastery.

Crossing over some rickety wooden bridges and stairways, the path conclusively opened up onto a rocky plateau with a precipitous projection of several hundred feet over the valley - the monastery is so precariously perched that it is said it clings to the side of the mountain like a gecko. Drinking in the view from a ledge on the opposite ravine, thoughts catapulted to put to shame modern-day architecture in the backdrop of the super-natural unfolding of the formidable fortress.

Our adventurous thirst quenched, with the ball of fire having begun its final descent in the heavens above, our jaded bodies undauntedly traversed downhill. Whilst relieved to have reached the foot of the hillock punctually, we were out of our wits to find no public taxi available to get us through to our night-base in the valley. After a half-hour jaunt, as thoughts hovered around the eventual necessity to spend a night in the wild pine-forests of a foreign land, discussions with the unrelenting driver of the National Geographic team’s Land Rover paved way for our exit from the predicament.

With the channel’s team somewhere out there in the altitudes happily clicking the nocturnal settings of the monastery, their handsomely-tipped driver sped us through the 10-km stretch as we heaved a sigh of relief on rediscovering civilization. Tipped, thanked and re-thanked for responding to our SOS, the driver rushed to receive his original guests.

After an eventful day, the infant-like slumber of the night was broken by the urgency to return to India for a pre-booked train from Siliguri to our final home-base of Kolkata.

Out on a dilapidated Maruti Omni, with its addicted driver chewing rounds of areca nut and betel leaf or ‘doma pani’ as its traditionally called, as our vehicle cruised through the BRO-maintained roads of Bhutan, my thoughts ran amok – the virgin beauty of the land, the simplicity of its people, the archaic but royal past running subtly in the present, the implicit closeness to nature, the spiritual quest for the beyond… Bhutan is a land special in its own mystic ways…

To experience Bliss, one need not enter silence;
Simply quiet-en the mental violence…
But, in a place where even the mental noise within,
Is that of innocence & quietude from across the deep valleys & hills arisen;
It can only be infinitely perfect & serene…
The Earth below blessed and the clouds above pristine!
~ That’s Blissful Bhutan!!

A New Beginning...

As we all awaited with glee,
The final moments of our to-be born's delivery...
The Almighty finally said "Let there be light",
Putting an end to the 9-month night!
The umblical cords have been split,
Only to ensure lamps of new family bonds be lit...
As the hungry eyes perpetually scan fresh faces,
The words pour out in giggles n cries in between spaces.
The angelic face in hues of red - shiny n shady;
If God be, His pure glory reflects in every baby.
Yes, its a baby boy!!!
... & we'd love to share this moment of the coming to life of our bundle of joy!
May his journey be smooth & sturdy,
Your blessings & wishes seem to be working already...

On the 1st of October 2010, Vandana & Sharan were blessed with a son and my little nephew rings in a new generation into the family.