Road Less Trodden!

Thadra Gompa. We didn’t even know the name of the monastery we were trying to see after our trek! And, trek we did and how! Read on..


Charles barged into my cabin, not in a terribly good mood. “Sir, I’m bored,” he said. “Let’s go to Thimphu”. It was 12 noon. Not exactly the time one could get out of the office, the closing hours being 2:10pm. “There’s none at the office. My AAO too has left for Thimphu. Someone needs to be around to monitor”. “What’s the big deal Sir, let’s go. And, the big man isn’t around. So none would ask”. “The big man” Charles referred to was the Chief Engineer who was away in Qatar. Judging a sail boat race! I offered him a compromise. “Let’s go at around 1:30”. “If that’s the case we could also pick up Mini from the hospital and also visit Choten – Yeshi’s wife”. Mini was Charles’s wife. And, Yeshi, a pilot in Royal Bhutan Airlines, and a friend of Charles. Meantime soup arrived and we sipped it greedily. “What happened to Choten?” “Oh! She underwent appendectomy last night”.

Major NCS Charles serves as Dentist here. He’s one of the earliest officers to befriend me. A Goan of Portuguese descent, he revels in drinking, pub-hopping and showing-off (his music, his muscles and his multi-coloured language). Every sentence he utters is peppered with the choicest expletives. He also is my on-and-off company in my walks and jogs.

Charles was still agitated that he had to kill time till 1:30. I had work to finish and was attending to my files. He had recently been to Thailand and had brought a t-shirt for me. He’d have loved to talk about his trip (again) but I wasn’t in a mood. So he took my mobile phone and started fiddling with it. “Does it have games?” “There are two games, not the 3-dimensional ones that Meelu would be interested in”. Lt. Col. Meelu is another officer in Dantak, a golf aficionado who also freaks out on video games. He didn’t enjoy Jawbreaker. “*&%#@ it doesn’t bloody end, *&^&^%”. I just smiled!

At last it was 1:30 and we set off. On our way to Thimphu, Charles showed me a monastery above a mountain (something that I could barely see, what with my wonderful vision) and said, “Sir, we must climb that”. “I think we could do it this Sunday”. We have many times talked about trekking one mountain or the other. Only once have we succeeded in going anywhere. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour and a half to climb up. We could be back by 11 if we start by 8 or 8:30” Charles continued. I kept quiet. I am no good at measuring heights or gauging the distances! We were back from Thimphu by 3:00 (and we were ravenous)!

Saturday evening, 5:15pm. I was about to leave for my walk (hadn’t done it but for once since my return from Mumbai). Charles came home. “Ready Sir?” “Yeah, care to join?” “Chalo!” He dumped his books and files at my place. We headed towards the prayer wheel. The prayer wheel located in Simtokha is about 2.4kms from our colony. Generally I run half the distance and walk the other half. I do the same while heading back too. This day Charles and I walked past the prayer wheel. The road becomes steep from here. And, it was good to exercise one’s legs walking uphill. Through the walk Charles was busy talking only about two things: Thailand and Trek. We also watched that dark, ominous clouds were gathering over the mountains around. “Would it snow?” I wondered aloud. I knew if it snowed we wouldn’t trek!

We reached home and over a cup of coffee decided to set off the next day by 8. “Sir, let’s have beer after the good trek. We should be back by 11”, Charles gave his brilliant idea! “We could have hot idlis too from the mess for brunch and wash them down with chilled beer of course”. “I’ll ask Amitabh to send the vehicle in the morning”, said Charles as he left.

I rattled off instructions to Saddam as he left for the night. One of them was that he should come in the morning and wake me up so that I could go on my trek (my alarm)!

I was up much before Saddam arrived (didn’t want to hear the bell, so had got up and opened the door). As soon as he arrived I asked him to make me a cup of tea (always black, first thing in the morning). And, also fill a bottle with water.

8AM. The bell rang. I thought it must be Charles. It wasn’t. Amitabh stood outside with a big grin. “I thought I too would join you Sir”. I felt a pang of guilt. We surely could’ve called him to join us yesterday, but neither Charles nor I had thought of that. Capt. Amitabh Bhardwaj is the Signal Officer and also the Camp Commandant. Young, handsome, cheerful, recently married and little-between-the-ears guy. He also is my sounding board for all my philosophical thoughts and frustrating arguments – poor guy, he soaks all that up without a fuss!!

“One second Amitabh. I’d like to carry my cam”. I carried my backpack containing my digicam (Kodak, 2.1 mP; not the best but that’s what I have) and a water bottle. Charles too arrived and we all set off in the gypsy (Charles was driving and I next to him; Amitabh and Reddy, the driver were seated behind).

The day was sunny, bright and clear. The monastery we wanted to climb is located on a mountain that rises behind the Head Quarters of the Royal Bhutan Army. The RBA HQ is located at about 3kms from our place. And, another kilometre inside the HQ we were off the vehicle and all set to climb. Charles asked Reddy to be back with the vehicle by 10:30 (apart from giving him instructions to shop for veggies for home).

8:15 AM. None of us had earlier been to this mountain (Charles and Amitabh have been in Bhutan for over a year now while I’m new). As we started walking towards the mountain, we asked people we encountered the directions to reach the monastery. Someone pointed the way to us – asked us to get down into the gorge from right where we were standing and the start the upward ascent again. We cursed and started our descent.

Soon we were away from the RBA, the small hutments, the motorable roads and the din of vehicles. The base of the mountain is at an altitude of around 6000 feet. The path was narrow – made probably by the animals that walk atop to graze. There was not much vegetation but for dry grass. The soil was loose and the rocks were few and had hardly any crevices to support the climb. We still marched ahead. Amitabh set the pace and Charles was right behind. I was struggling to keep up with them – huffing and panting, all my nicotine, ethylene and cheese showing their effect!

We realised that the climb was steep. While I needed no help to climb Charles soon started having problems. He was finding it difficult to breathe through his nose. With his nostrils blocked he had to perforce breathe through his mouth and that was tiring him. On the way up we saw three girls climbing up. We learnt that they were headed to the monastery too. One girl (in traditional kira) was very fit while one was fat and sweating profusely as she struggled to climb. I too was sweating. My hair was completely wet and I’d to take off my cap. “Sir, give me the backpack, I’ll carry”, Amitabh said and I was only too glad. A little while later I took off my jacket and put it in the backpack. The path became steeper and steeper. There were hardly any trees. We stopped a couple of times to catch our breath. And, to take pictures! Charles started complaining of hunger. None of us had had our breakfast. Soon the water bottle was emptied by Charles. As we rested the girls passed us. We soon overtook them.

And, the only thing that kept us going was the inviting steaming idlis and the chilled ale waiting for when we would get back! Our mouths watered at the thought of the refreshments! As the gradient increased I realised that I’d find it difficult to climb down. I have always feared steep mountains. I was wondering what to do. The only recourse to descend for me would have been to sit on my haunches and slide! And even that would prove tough, as there was no support to hold on to while I slid! “Sir the mountain’s so damn steep. It looked so near and easy to climb from Thimphu”, Charles continued his grumble. “We might need ropes to climb down” I sighed!

We also had grossly miscalculated the altitude of the mountain and the time needed to ascend (and descend). I had already slipped and swayed while climbing. We hardly had reached half way up and it was already 9:40. We took another short break. Charles was already amazed at Amitabh’s stamina. “motu kaafi fit hai Sir”, he quipped.

My trepidation of heights returned as I gazed down the mountain. I suffer from vertigo. That means I don’t have a good balance (not mental, silly)! “Charles, I won’t climb anymore. I don’t think I’d be able to get down. My fear of heights is at its worst now”. “Okay Sir, risk mat lo. No point in that”. Amitabh already had started climbing again. “Oye, wait”, Charles shouted.

The place I’d chosen to stop at was right under an imposingly steep cliff. I was struggling to find a place where I could sit. There was no flat land. I looked around as I stood. Minutes passed as I was struggling to find a foothold. The girls who were behind us – now joined by two more boys – had appeared and passed me. I suddenly found that to my right if I climbed a few steps diagonally there was place to sit and relax while I waited for Charles and Amitabh to come back after reaching the monastery. There were some trees and shade too. I found that because the group of youngsters had also halted there. I gingerly made my way and sat down under a tree. In a while the group left and I was alone.

The breeze started getting stronger and I enjoyed it brushing past my face. Only for a while though. I suddenly started feeling cold. I realized I didn’t have my jacket anymore with me (Amitabh was carrying the backpack). My head was still reeling. The thoughts in my mind were morbid too. ‘What if a bear straddles in now? I am not even carrying a stick, let alone a weapon!’ ‘Where would I run to if it attacks?’ ‘What about those mountain dogs?’ ‘How long would these guys take to come back?’ ‘What would I do till they are back?’ ‘How would I manage to get down?’ Questions and more difficult questions fleeted past. I thought of trying to get down and reach the vehicle but the fear of slipping away into oblivion stopped me. I even dreamt that a chopper would be availed of to safely get back home! I also tried to imagine my free fall – it wasn’t pleasant and I shuddered. Other thoughts – more philosophical than existential – too crossed my mind. I wondered if my fear reflected my approach to life, goal and achievement. “Am I daunted by higher ups and people in power? Do I have it in me to do something or is it that I’m afraid of taking risks? Do I give up and throw in the towel without putting up a fight in life? Does my approach to trekking reflect my philosophy towards life too in general?” Much as I didn’t want to acknowledge, I knew the answers (and that’s how the questions had cropped up).

“What the heck! If I’ve to fall down, I’d fall down anyways. No point being stuck here alone and cold”, I thought aloud and got up. Surprisingly my fear was gone. I somehow managed to get a toehold on the cliff and scampered my way up. I was slightly bruised too. Beyond the cliff, to my surprise and utter disbelief, the gradient tapered and the incline was much gentler than till now. And, the vegetation too changed from dry grass to coniferous trees, rhododendrons and lush green grass with some flowering plants. I guess there was a great message in this for me (would I remember? No comments)!

I guess I’d found my second wind. I very soon overtook the group of youngsters and at a junction where a host of prayer flags were consecrated I found Charles and Amitabh! I couldn’t believe that I had climbed so fast. Charles was now tiring fast. He took a break and lay on the ground. The ground was actually carpet – made of leaves of cypress, the national tree of Bhutan. It is believed that Guru Rimpoche – Padmasambhava, the monk who brought Buddhism to Bhutan - used the stick from this tree to support his climb across the mountains! The green spindly leaves when shed from the tree turn red and the entire ground looks brick red! This reminded me again of maple, boo hoo!! Charles started his whine again, “Sir I didn’t expect it to be this difficult”. I added, “but look at Amitabh; he is climbing like the proverbial mountain goat”. “Sir I’m surprised. He’s fat and he hardly runs. Must be because of his genes – he’s a Kashmiri na?” “Age is a factor Sir. You’ve crossed 30 and I still am in the 20’s” Amitabh rubbed it in nicely. Charles just sighed!

Soon we could sight the monastery perched atop! I had never seen any construction on any summit. I really marvelled at the single-minded perseverance of the guys who built it! On the way some of the ground was marshy and was home to some of the most beautiful flowers I’ve seen – tiny violet ones! I took a picture on my camera and that was the last I could click, as the internal memory was full!

The monastery was now completely visible. It had a fortified wall around. Charles was in a hurry to reach. He was hoping that we would find someone in who would offer us (him, to be precise) food! We entered the Gompa and found none around. We also found a few other structures around the monastery. Charles, who has explored the country much more than Amitabh, explained that one of them must be a meditation hall and the others, houses of caretakers of the monastery. The gong at the meditation building struck exactly as we entered the monastery. We checked out the time. It was 11 AM. We had taken 2 hours and 45 minutes to reach the acme. And, we had started off with the nice assumption that we would be back at the campy by 11, all pumped up and ready for ale!

Within the fortified wall, there were two main buildings. One immediately at the entrance and I learnt that it contained Buddhist holy scriptures and books and other relics. The other building was barricaded with another door. Amitabh knocked on it and called out, “Anybody there”! After a while a monk reticently opened the door. He didn’t speak either English or Hindi. We asked for water. Charles already was jumping around and telling Amitabh that he should ask for suja! Soon the young monk brought a jug of cold water. Surprisingly I still wasn’t feeling hungry. On a normal day I would start grumbling for food by 9. And, today, I had climbed for almost 3 hours and without breakfast and still was standing firmly on the ground, uncomplaining.

After having had water, we asked the monk if we could come in and have a look at the monastery. We were all allowed in. Within the entrance there were again two buildings. One was the sanctum sanctorum and the other, the residential complex for the monks. The monastery – located at a height of almost 11000 feet (10730 feet to be precise) – was built in 1731! Today it boasts of modern amenities like telephone and electricity at almost inaccessible heights!

The ground floor of the monastery has a huge prayer wheel – disappointingly the outer layer is a sheath of aluminium! We all took turns to turn the prayer wheel. The monk then led us upstairs. The prayer hall on the first floor was huge! There was a large idol of the Buddha on an altar. In front of it was a torch. A prayer wheel (hand-held) was suspended above the torch and it rotated because of the heat generated by the torch! The smell of the incense was heavenly. Unlike the Indian incense the Bhutanese incense is mild and has earthy aroma. We all offered our prayers to the Lord and inspected around the Hall. The Monk suddenly also let us into the inner sanctorum (where the head of the monastery would sit and pray). The monastery boasts of extremely intricate and rich tangkhas. The walls covered entirely with frescos are breathtakingly beautiful. One’s not allowed to photograph these things though. May be if we had tried we could have clicked some. But then to our misfortune there was no electricity and the halls were dimly lit.

All the while Charles and Amitabh were making their efforts to get the monk to serve us something – tea or whatever! But their words were falling on deaf ears. The monk didn’t appear to understand a word of English or Hindi. Though Charles kept repeating the words, ‘breakfast’, ‘hungry’, ‘suja’ and rubbing his tummy with pleading eyes, no miracle happened. I said, “Let’s go” and started walking. Once I turned back and said ‘bye’ to the monk. Charles couldn’t stop grumbling about the monk’s inhospitable ways! He abused the monk to his heart’s content (stomach?) as we walked out of the monastery.

As we started heading down the Gompa, the monk started calling us out. While Amitabh and Charles didn’t pay any heed to it, I turned and he was indicating, ‘road’. I walked back and asked him and he signalled towards the meditation hall building and said, ‘road la’! La in Dzongkha means ‘yes’. So we tried again our best to communicate with him using our arms, limbs and some guttural sounds! It was our turn to be surprised again. The monk started speaking to us in a smattering of English! He couldn’t construct a sentence but could use several words in a string! He was trying to tell us that there was another, easier way down the mountain. And, the path was via the meditation hall.

As we started walking towards the meditation hall and the new road he indicated, I turned and thanked him and suddenly he asked, “would you like to have some suja?” Suja is Bhutanese tea made with butter. We didn’t need to be insisted at all – unlike Bhutanese manners! We almost ran back into the monastery. Now that the monk had offered us something, Charles was telling Amitabh, “tell him to get our tea yaar! I hate suja *&(^%$#$”. I laughed to myself – just a minute ago we were returning hungry and now we have new demands! The monk – we learnt his name was Trinley – asked us to sit in his room and went to fetch suja for us. While he was away, Charles scouted around and ate pieces of cheese and some biscuits that were visible! Trinley served us suja and rice flakes; we all sipped it with a lot of enthusiasm and gratitude. We learnt from Trinley that there were four monks residing at the monastery. Trinley’s cabin apart from other things contained meat that was hung to dry!

As we headed back we took a couple of pictures with Trinley. And suddenly Charles was filled with remorse for having abused the monk for not having offered anything initially. “Let’s come back again Sir, and we could carry something for these guys here” and he tried to convey the same to Trinley! I don’t know how much of that he understood though.

The journey downhill was longer but nowhere as steep as it was while ascending. The monks were praying at the meditation hall. I wanted to have a look in but was discouraged by Charles. He feared that our sudden arrival might shock them, as they’d be in a trance! So, unwillingly I moved away. The rhododendrons and many other flowering plants and trees made the descent even more pleasant. Charles’s mother – a botanist – loves collecting dried flowers. So Amitabh and I helped him collect as many varieties of flowers as we could. I carried a few myself too – red rhododendrons and small violet flowers from the marshy area.

On the way down we met several people too. Some of them monks at the Gompa and others, pilgrims. To every one Amitabh would say, “we met Trinley there at the monastery” as though he was a prized exhibit! We also met the owner of the monastery (yeah, monasteries are owned by private people, people who’ve built them or their families). We also learnt from one of the guys climbing up that the residing deity at the monastery is Hrohrogam – and it was his family’s protecting deity and he had to make a trip to the monastery once at least a year.

The trek downhill brought us to a different location – a few kilometres away from where we had started. We climbed down right into the Yanchenphug School (YHSS – probably the largest school in Bhutan). All the Royalty study here. And, the sprawling campus is spread over 1000s of acres. My knees were hurting nicely by then. I literally had to drag myself from here till we reached the main road and could haul a taxi to take us to RBA HQ! The driver was a worried man by then.

We reached home at 2 in the afternoon – 3 hours more than what we had anticipated! I cribbed that the flowers had wilted, but still asked Saddam to put them in a glass of water. Dead tired, we managed to have lunch (and barely finished a beer) and slept like log.

We are planning one for this Sunday too. Want to join in?


Postscript

It’s 5 days since we trekked. We still look at the monastery fondly whenever we drive down to Thimphu. We also have proudly repeated our adventure to everyone we have met! The flowers I carried down continue to smile in a glass of water – as fresh as they were when I plucked them! We’ve also decided our weekend’s itinerary. But, that’s for the next post on the blog!

God(desse)s Must Be Pricey!

“How further?” I asked the driver. “Not too far saab. Another 6kms from here”. We were heading to the Kamakhya temple in Guwahati. Ever since I’d arrived I was told about the temple. Though I wasn’t very keen I set off to see it (trying to be a decent tourist interested in the local attractions). We were on the highway and the driver suddenly took a detour and the road suddenly started becoming steep. “Is it not in the town?” I asked. “No saab it’s on top of the hill”.

We reached the temple. As usual with any temple in India this too had its share of hawkers – of flowers and incense, of handicrafts, of idols and photos of gods and goddesses, of sweetmeats, of prasad. I had to perforce buy some flowers and incense to ensure that the shopkeeper looked after my shoes. I had to walk over 100 steps to reach the abode of the goddess. Kamakhya is the other name (the Assamese name) for Goddess Parvati. The temple is quite old. I didn’t have the patience to try and learn the local history and legend (mythology) of the temple (that’s rare for me; I normally am interested to know).

The temple wasn’t yet open to the devotees. I had to stand in the queue and wait. And much as I wanted to leave (I had no company to wait with and I was agitated for no reason) I waited. I started observing the architecture of the temple and the carvings on the temple walls. The style of the gopuram was what one would encounter in Orissa and parts of Bengal. But it was more rounded, almost like a Gumbaz on a mosque but not quite. I thought it was built of terracotta. The walls like any temples had the carvings of figurines. However they weren’t as beautiful or aesthetic as those that you find down south in Halebid or Belur. There were figurines with the faces that resembled monkeys or pigs with human bodies. And, the figurines’ breasts were almost at their abdomen! I wondered if the sculptor was paid enough or paid at all! Still their poses were graceful.

The temple has umpteen numbers of priests. They are called pandas. They are no way as cute as their namesake the Chinese giant pandas; not even the red pandas (except for the red robes that they wear). And, they really are a menace. They’d jostle, push and shove around once they’d get a willing devotee who wanted to offer special prayers to the goddess for a price.

One has to climb down the steps to reach the inner sanctorum. The entire place was rather dark. Then suddenly I remembered the facts about the temple. It’s probably the only temple where the yoni is worshipped. And Kamakhya is the Goddess of fertility! As I started reaching the place of worship the cover in which I was carrying the prayer offerings tore and all things spilt over. I thought the Goddess was angry with me for being disrespectful (despite my agnostic leanings)! I laughed to myself, offered my obeisance and started my trip back to the vehicle. I again wondered about the pandas. Their Vedic ancestors would be turning in their graves if they knew their descendants were worshipping heathen gods and goddesses! They’ve accepted Siva (read Lingam or Phallus) as part of their pantheon of Gods with great difficulty – to assimilate the Dravidians into the Aryan culture and make them accept the Hindu way of life (and its ills too in the bargain). But today’s panda can only think of the crisp notes that he’d make in the bargain!

I was climbing down the steps and “Oh!” And it suddenly struck me. This wasn’t the only temple that was located on a hillock. I wondered about the connection between the gods and goddesses and their temples on high mountains and hills and at generally difficult and inaccessible places. Wherever you go in India this IS the norm. You have Chamundeswari, the residing deity of Mysore on a hill, Hanuman in Bangalore, Lord Venkateswara in Tirumala, Lord Murugan in Palani. The list is endless. Why forget Vaishnodevi or or Lord Ayappa of Sabarimalai or Amarnath? And, Lord Siva decided to make Mount Kailash in the Himalayas his home! Mount Everest is known as Gowrishanker Parbat to most Indians! And, every mountain has an abode to one deity or the other. What is it that makes them reside in all these godforsaken places? Are they tired of the maddening crowds in towns and villages? Stifled for fresh air? Clamour for peace?

I think they just want to make their devotees work a little harder to reach them. They are really pricey. They want to make a statement that they’re not easily available. That one needs to struggle to reach them. That the road to salvation isn’t easy and one must perform a stringent journey to reach Gods and Goddesses!

Humans (read, devotees) haven’t been daunted by this. They always have found a way. May be short cuts too. Pandas and priests are there too to make them reach their God (or Goddess) faster with special pujas and costlier bribes! Or you have institutionalized bribing system with special entry fee at temples for the rich (I can’t think of a place that doesn’t have it). Reminds me of a song from a Kannada movie that goes, “…hanaviddare nee dinakaranante; illadiddare shwaanadante (If you are moneyed you’re like the Sun, else a dog)”! Long live religion!