Revisiting the Tracks!
Prologue
I didn’t want to write this for the fear of sounding trite and banal. Though the blog is mine and I can post anything, I need my captive readership not to suffer and thus move away! I thought I’d repeat sentences, phrases and thoughts all over again there’d be a sense of déjà vu throughout the writing. But then vanity wouldn’t easily go away either. And also that I had not posted anything after the last trek post too was gnawing at my mind. So, here I’m writing about another trek!
The trek. Sunday, 26 March
It couldn’t have started more disastrously. On Saturday I warned, “Charles, we shouldn’t drink today!” “But Sir, beer to peena hi hai”. And, that evening Yishey was around. He likes to sit at the Royal Guest House and down a few shots of whiskey.
Royal Guest House is situated at the highest point of our Dantak Camp. The view from here is breathtaking – of the mountains and Thimphu! While Yishey and Charles left early (Yishey was flying his plane to Bangkok the next morning at 7), Amitabh and I continued drinking and talking philosophy and taking pot shots at everyone living within the camp – hardly any was spared! One of the topics was how everyone else gossips (now, guys don’t ask me what else were we doing, ok?)! Of course we had the kindest words to say about each other!
By the time we wound up for the night it was past midnight. And, I woke up with a terrible hangover – much before my waking hour of 7! I squarely blamed the Special Courier whiskey for my hangover (and not the number of drinks I had). “I shouldn’t drink that horrid whiskey again” I made up my mind! After tossing and turning for almost an hour I called Amitabh to say that I might not join them in the trek. I tried sleeping again (tying a handkerchief – my trademark during headaches – around my forehead)!
I couldn’t sleep though. I tried the time-tested remedy of water therapy. One and a half litres later I felt slightly better. There was a call from Charles too, “Sir are you ready?” “I’m trying to get out of bed now”. Soon it was Mohan’s turn to call. Lt. Col. Mohan was the latest to join the group to trek – albeit reluctantly.
Mohan
Lt. Col. Mohan is the new doctor at Dantak. He replaced Piyush – a very colourful man – in January (and thus joined about a month after my arrival). He is a genuinely nice guy (and thus is a sore point for the sycophants and praise-lovers). He’s down-to-earth and is ‘I-wear-my-love-for-my-family-on-my-sleeve’ guy. We soon became friends – more thanks to him – as he hails not only from Karnataka but also from the same place (did he say community too?)! He was at my office to show his new camera – a Sony Cybershot with 7.2 MP resolution and 4X optical zoom (I was tempted to think of buying one for myself too but with my financial woes mounting, I knew it was better as a thought). Charles too was there and we were talking about the trek. “Sir why don’t you too join us tomorrow?” Charles said. “I’m not interested. Wife would nag – ‘the only off day in the week and you want to trek?’ – and also I’ve done enough trekking during my posting at Joshimath” Mohan responded. “It’s okay Sir for once you could come. We’ll come back after the good trek and have some beer”. That I guess was an irresistible offer – like the up to 50 % discount sales to shoppers – and Mohan bit the bait! (Yes, Mohan took a few snaps of mine and one of them is my computer’s wallpaper now)!
After speaking to Mohan I reluctantly left the warmth of my pink quilt. I wished my headache away and I alternately I wished the trek away. Neither could be though!
As is wont I was the last to start. Amitabh chuckled when he saw me ready to leave with them. The vehicle that was to have trucked us till the foothills had been sent to fetch a guide. I was informed that a guide was necessary as the route was difficult and we might get lost! “That would be better” I thought in my mind.
We started walking from our camp towards the MI room (Medical Inspection for the uninitiated and not Mission Impossible) – we were headed to the Tala Monastery above the mountain overlooking the Semtokha Dzong. We crossed the MI room and the CSD Canteen but there was no sight of our vehicle. We waited and cursed and talked shop. Still the vehicle wouldn’t arrive. One of us had a brainwave. “We could get dropped at the Semtokha Dzong – since there are two routes to the Tala Monastery – by a One-tonner. From there we could start our trek. The monks at the Dzong might show us the way?” Soon the 407 was at our service and we all climbed in. Just then another Gypsy was about to cross us and I signalled him to halt. After a little chaos we were off the 407 and onto the gypsy. The snide remarks about the driver and his intelligence continued unabated.
We weren’t sure about the way – despite days of data-collection by Charles and Amitabh. I am a lost case in this regard though. Neither do I have the sense of direction nor the sense to ask for directions! “Yishey said that it is necessary to take a guide along”, Charles chimed.
We asked some people the route to the monastery and we were shown a road that deviated from the Semtokha Dzong. We went a little ahead till the metal road ended. We got off and Charles started rattling instructions to the driver and we see another gypsy coming from the opposite direction! It was our vehicle (and driver). He hadn’t been able to get the guide (who’d had too much of liquor and had vanished – out of sight or out of the world, I am not sure) and hence he had tried to locate the way himself on the presumption that it’d help us (and thereby delaying our trek)! So, another set of instruction-rattling ended with, “be there at the Semtokha Dzong by 12:30 in case you don’t hear from us”. Charles and Amitabh stopped a few localites that were travelling on the road for directions. Two different routes emerged from all the enquiries. One longer, and riskier. The other, shorter and easier. I wanted the riskier one. Charles and Mohan weren’t keen. Too many ‘what ifs’ were troubling them. I moved ahead with the support of Amitabh and then all of us were walking silently ahead on the supposedly tougher track.
We walked over two kilometres on a gently sloping road to reach Chamgang. The view was refreshingly beautiful! Lush green coniferous forests accompanied by a flowing stream looked picture perfect – straight out of one of Yash Chopra’s romances! “This is the real Bhutan” Charles said emphatically as though we were sceptical! On the way Mohan recounted his experience of trekking in Joshimath area – the anecdotes were interesting, particularly one about Pari Tal. “Nobody who has set out to see this place has ever returned” Mohan said. “Then how does anyone or you know that it exists?” was my question. There weren’t any convincing answers. Another thread of conversation followed. About the uprising of the Nepalis against the Monarchy in Bhutan. I asked Charles to give us more details.
In the early ‘90s the Bhutanese citizens of Nepali origin had formed a political party and demanded the abolition of Monarchy and establishment of democracy in Bhutan. The rebellion was crushed (with the help of the Indian Army) and many Nepalis were forced out of Bhutan. However the details that Charles gave weren’t convincing to Amitabh. He contested them hotly. “Sir you say that there were 5 Lakh Nepali Bhutanese in Thimphu and they were driven out from here. It is not correct. The uprising happened in Eastern Bhutan and not in Thimphu. And Thimphu has never had a total population of 5 lakhs, let alone just the Nepalis!” Charles surrendered rather meekly after that.
The above conversation was sparked because Chamgang houses a jail. And, soon we were reaching the jail. As we neared it, we had to cross a small stream strewn with slippery boulders. That reminded me of my circus from my college days.
Flashback
Madhu, Pradeep and I had gone to Mudumalai together. It was one of my first trips ever to any place! It was in 1989, November. While Madhu and Pradeep were natural at climbing, trekking and jumping, I was a clown, a pretender at the most. My problems were compounded by my lack of balance, fear and nearsightedness! And, at Mudumalai, during our short treks we had to cross the stream to explore the forests. My eagerness to explore was stronger than my fears and clumsiness. So, Madhu and Pradeep had to teach me how to jump from boulder to boulder and cross the stream. If the distance between the two boulders was a meter or less I could hop across (and provided the boulders were HUGE), else I’d fidget, fret and fritter away time, unsure of where to step and how to hop! Sure enough I was into water more times than jumping across. Pradeep was as agile as a deer and Madhu was as surefooted as a tiger! And, I was the bumbling baboon! Madhu and Pradeep tried teaching me the basics of jumping (without the ability to read my thoughts though). “Su, don’t look at the water, just look at the boulder on to which you want to jump. Arch your body forward and simply JUMP”. “Yes, Madhu” I’d say nodding my head (as though I understood the entire sequence of actions) and I would jump straight into water. Over several such misadventures, I was soaked and my brand new shoes were spoilt for life! Exasperated, the duo tried teaching me practically by holding my hand. The result? I ensured that both Madhu and Pradeep too ended in water for their efforts!
Back to the Present – Amitabh’s lost!
This time I carefully jumped from one boulder to another – I had handed my backpack, water bottle and jacket to Charles. Of course here we also stopped over to click some pictures. With help from settlers around the area we understood the route to the monastery and reached the jail. We took some time to convince the guards and police at the jail about our journey and ourselves. The police (named Karma) at last asked us to go ahead with helpful directions towards the monastery (“you’ve to climb the steep hill that you see from here and you’ll reach a motorable road. Walk along the road to reach the monastery”). Soon we were above the jail and there we could find two routes. Differences arose among us as to what route to choose. As we argued and talked among ourselves Amitabh had moved away. We assumed that he had gone to ask around the ‘correct track’ and waited for him. We also screamed his name at regular intervals but to no avail. I also started hearing screams from the jail and I assumed them to be of the prisoners – who probably were being beaten up! It sent shivers down my spine, and I realized how faint-hearted I am. As the wait prolonged I wondered about Amitabh and his non-return. “I hope he’s safe. I hope he’s not been taken in” I thought stupidly.
The agonising wait wasn’t bearable. So, the three of us started our ascent. The climb was steep. And since it was his first experience in Bhutan in trekking Mohan was tiring fast. We had to (I had to, more specifically) take breaks frequently to ensure that he could catch his breath and start climbing again. As we climbed there were more screams, “Amitabh, Amitabh”! Some cuss words too joined the screams but there was no response from Amitabh at all from anywhere. We wondered but weren’t sure if we should stop. With the height we were gaining we were losing water that we were carrying. And, this time I had taken the role of Charles – to cry of hunger. I was really ravenous. I considered eating cypress leaves a la Charles – even rhododendrons!
After a break in between – where we stopped to munch on some biscuits and drink water – we continued our climb. Once in a while there would be doubts about the track (all tracks that were visible were small and Mohan in particular wasn’t sure of the path that I’d lead to). Anyways, we persisted through the steep climb (though it wasn’t anywhere as difficult as Thadra Gompa). Soon we hit the motor road (no, it isn’t metalled; just jeeps can drive through this). Again, the road forked into two directions. We took the ascending side gingerly. I was the sceptic this time. Still now sign of Amitabh. The road was soft due to rains and trickling water from the mountains. Suddenly Charles and I had the idea of jogging. Leaving Mohan behind we ran on our way up assuming that we could run to the monastery! I stopped short in my tracks though, realising my stupidity. ‘How could you do this to Mohan? What if someone did this to you?’ I decided to wait and soon he joined. As we slowly trundled ahead I saw a small path that was going up and I asked Mohan if we could go up via this towards the monastery. “This seems to be the short cut”. We nonetheless moved away and ahead. The moment Charles was seen again (he hadn’t stopped running) we decided again to head back to the short cut.
Amitabh’s back!
All of us were hungry. As we climbed a little way up, we sat on tree trunks and opened our snack boxes. Mohan had brought tortilla chips and some fruits. I had biscuits and pomegranate. Just when we started eating I spotted Amitabh (was it me? Now I’m not very sure).
“Where did you vanish?”
“Sir I thought you were following me”
“But we thought you’d gone to find directions?”
“No Sir; how long it’s been since you are here?”
“Not too long. May be ten minutes”
“I trekked halfway and found that you weren’t following. I waited and then trekked back to the place where we had stopped first”
“Oh! You climbed up twice then?”
“We kept screaming for you but there was no response” one of us added.
It was a happy ending (and I was relieved of all my idiotic and not-so-positive thoughts)! Again, the guys – Charles and Mohan started having doubts about the route we had taken. “This seems to be made by woodcutters. There is no path here. We have to move back to the road”. I wouldn’t stop. I silently went up, forcing them to follow me.
The Summit!
A hundred steps (probably even less) ahead we saw the first signs of inhabitation. I turned back and celebrated my moment of victory. “You still want to head back to the road”. Sheepish smiles followed. I gloated (how sick I could get huh?)! Suddenly there was energy in the air (as usual Charles had to run again to reach the place first).
We had reached the summit from behind the monastery. The monastery was very old. However there were a large number of monks (and some devotees). Several young monks were playing caroms outside the monastery. Charles and Amitabh started camp-spotting from the top. They could see Dantak camp, the Officer’s mess and even the Guest Houses! I wasn’t sure if that was real or they were bluffing! Since I couldn’t see a thing I conveniently assumed it to be a lot of hot air in the cold!
After the perfunctory visits into the monastery (no descriptions here; not much there anyways to describe), pictures with the monks and the devotees, we were set to leave. As luck would have it there were some ten boys who had come visiting from the ILCS (Institute for Language and Cultural Studies). All of them had shaved their heads (explained that it is considered holy – like among the South Indian Hindus, I thought) and were dressed in traditional gho. I learnt very soon that they all were classmates (studying in Class XII) – they of course were older than our Indian Class 12 students (at 20).
The Descent
The boys asked us to join them – I remember a few names, Sherub Tsewang, Buchung, Karma – in climbing down the monastery via our unexplored track. I was keen but unsure about others. As I was about to start walking, Mohan called out, “let them go. We can go down separately. We can have beer on the way”. “But Sir, we don’t know this route. Let’s join them,” Amitabh said. So we started.
The boys were talking to us and among themselves animatedly. “What do you work as here?” “How much do you earn?” “How long is your tenure?” “Which place do you come from in India?” were the common questions. Barring Charles we were enthusiastically answering them. I was embarrassed to answer queries about our earnings though. Bhutanese earn much less than their Indian counterparts and I wasn’t keen to reveal the actual figures. Mohan was more forthcoming though. “We earn about Rs.65-70K a month here. In India it’d be about half of that” he offered to reply. They were awe-struck. I toned down that bit a little later while talking to the boys. They soon were singing joyfully and Mohan in his enthusiasm joined them! And they had amazing range and depth in their vocal chords. They could also sing in chorus well. Deepa surely would’ve nodded her head appreciatively had she been around. Remembering her I refused to join the voices for the fear of her disapproval (I could see a mental picture of her hands-on-hips-and-chin-up-with-eyes-of-determination-striking-a-pose-ready-to-slug-it-out and emphatically ticking me off with, “Sudhir I can’t suffer a donkey around me posing as a vocalist”!)!
The descent down the monastery was sharp. I also had learnt from the boys that its name was Talakha and not Tala (so much for data-collection)! We met some of the devotees who were at the monastery when we had arrived on their way back. There were more climbing their way towards the monastery – monks and locals. Buchung started having a conversation with me.
After the mandatory questions of origin, work, tenure and pay, we discussed education.
“Sir, what is your qualification?”
“I’ve done my post graduation – MBA”.
“Others too?”
“No. How old are you?”
“20. I started my schooling late. My parents are farmers and they didn’t give importance to my education”.
“But still it’s commendable you are continuing with your studies”
“In India by now most boys would’ve finished their graduation, right sir?”
“Yes, I’d finished mine. What do you study in your class?”
“English, Dzongkha”
“No other subjects? Like Maths, Science etc?”
“No Sir”. I was surprised.
The path down was thickly populated with rhododendrons in full bloom. Everyone wanted to pluck them and carry them home. The boys – eager to please us – plucked many for all of us. One of them though hesitatingly said, “Don’t destroy the environment and nature. Flowers look beautiful in their trees”. I turned and smiled at him. Then a friend came to his rescue and said, “Sir, according to Guru Rimpoche one should not pluck flowers..” and told me about the philosophy of Buddhism in Bhutan. I felt guilty. “This would be the last time I take flowers from my treks”, I promised. “No Sir. You can of course take them and offer them to the God or even your girl friend” they tried to placate.
Charles was leading the way all through. He wasn’t keen on befriending the Bhutanese boys. I learnt that he was not comfortable being friends with them – some status to maintain! The boys were a great help on my way down. They held me each time I slipped, supported me every time I lost balance and even carried my bag to help me climb down comfortably. They were always smiling, courteous, helpful and trying-hard-to-please-us. The descent was a pleasure and we hardly realized it took an hour to climb down till the Semtokha Dzong because of these boys’ company! We bid them adieu at their school. Buchung said, “Sir will remember me” as we shook hands and parted.
The vehicle was not waiting for us (as instructed). There were a lot of monks at the Semtokha Dzong. I ventured in and amid their smiles and indecipherable phrases asked about the timings of the Dzong (for no reason)! The beer cans were open in no time (and I refused to sip). After a few phone calls and a few minutes later, Kader appeared with his vehicle. “I had come here at 12 Sir. Since you weren’t here, I returned” said the wise guy!
Tail Piece
Probably it was my guilt – the flowers that I brought down wilted within no time! They didn’t survive even a day – unlike the previous collection. I know I wouldn’t again pluck them! ‘Be a Buddhist in Bhutan’ anyone? And, lastly, as I said, my post has turned out to be real pain-in-the-neck, can't help it though!
I didn’t want to write this for the fear of sounding trite and banal. Though the blog is mine and I can post anything, I need my captive readership not to suffer and thus move away! I thought I’d repeat sentences, phrases and thoughts all over again there’d be a sense of déjà vu throughout the writing. But then vanity wouldn’t easily go away either. And also that I had not posted anything after the last trek post too was gnawing at my mind. So, here I’m writing about another trek!
The trek. Sunday, 26 March
It couldn’t have started more disastrously. On Saturday I warned, “Charles, we shouldn’t drink today!” “But Sir, beer to peena hi hai”. And, that evening Yishey was around. He likes to sit at the Royal Guest House and down a few shots of whiskey.
Royal Guest House is situated at the highest point of our Dantak Camp. The view from here is breathtaking – of the mountains and Thimphu! While Yishey and Charles left early (Yishey was flying his plane to Bangkok the next morning at 7), Amitabh and I continued drinking and talking philosophy and taking pot shots at everyone living within the camp – hardly any was spared! One of the topics was how everyone else gossips (now, guys don’t ask me what else were we doing, ok?)! Of course we had the kindest words to say about each other!
By the time we wound up for the night it was past midnight. And, I woke up with a terrible hangover – much before my waking hour of 7! I squarely blamed the Special Courier whiskey for my hangover (and not the number of drinks I had). “I shouldn’t drink that horrid whiskey again” I made up my mind! After tossing and turning for almost an hour I called Amitabh to say that I might not join them in the trek. I tried sleeping again (tying a handkerchief – my trademark during headaches – around my forehead)!
I couldn’t sleep though. I tried the time-tested remedy of water therapy. One and a half litres later I felt slightly better. There was a call from Charles too, “Sir are you ready?” “I’m trying to get out of bed now”. Soon it was Mohan’s turn to call. Lt. Col. Mohan was the latest to join the group to trek – albeit reluctantly.
Mohan
Lt. Col. Mohan is the new doctor at Dantak. He replaced Piyush – a very colourful man – in January (and thus joined about a month after my arrival). He is a genuinely nice guy (and thus is a sore point for the sycophants and praise-lovers). He’s down-to-earth and is ‘I-wear-my-love-for-my-family-on-my-sleeve’ guy. We soon became friends – more thanks to him – as he hails not only from Karnataka but also from the same place (did he say community too?)! He was at my office to show his new camera – a Sony Cybershot with 7.2 MP resolution and 4X optical zoom (I was tempted to think of buying one for myself too but with my financial woes mounting, I knew it was better as a thought). Charles too was there and we were talking about the trek. “Sir why don’t you too join us tomorrow?” Charles said. “I’m not interested. Wife would nag – ‘the only off day in the week and you want to trek?’ – and also I’ve done enough trekking during my posting at Joshimath” Mohan responded. “It’s okay Sir for once you could come. We’ll come back after the good trek and have some beer”. That I guess was an irresistible offer – like the up to 50 % discount sales to shoppers – and Mohan bit the bait! (Yes, Mohan took a few snaps of mine and one of them is my computer’s wallpaper now)!
After speaking to Mohan I reluctantly left the warmth of my pink quilt. I wished my headache away and I alternately I wished the trek away. Neither could be though!
As is wont I was the last to start. Amitabh chuckled when he saw me ready to leave with them. The vehicle that was to have trucked us till the foothills had been sent to fetch a guide. I was informed that a guide was necessary as the route was difficult and we might get lost! “That would be better” I thought in my mind.
We started walking from our camp towards the MI room (Medical Inspection for the uninitiated and not Mission Impossible) – we were headed to the Tala Monastery above the mountain overlooking the Semtokha Dzong. We crossed the MI room and the CSD Canteen but there was no sight of our vehicle. We waited and cursed and talked shop. Still the vehicle wouldn’t arrive. One of us had a brainwave. “We could get dropped at the Semtokha Dzong – since there are two routes to the Tala Monastery – by a One-tonner. From there we could start our trek. The monks at the Dzong might show us the way?” Soon the 407 was at our service and we all climbed in. Just then another Gypsy was about to cross us and I signalled him to halt. After a little chaos we were off the 407 and onto the gypsy. The snide remarks about the driver and his intelligence continued unabated.
We weren’t sure about the way – despite days of data-collection by Charles and Amitabh. I am a lost case in this regard though. Neither do I have the sense of direction nor the sense to ask for directions! “Yishey said that it is necessary to take a guide along”, Charles chimed.
We asked some people the route to the monastery and we were shown a road that deviated from the Semtokha Dzong. We went a little ahead till the metal road ended. We got off and Charles started rattling instructions to the driver and we see another gypsy coming from the opposite direction! It was our vehicle (and driver). He hadn’t been able to get the guide (who’d had too much of liquor and had vanished – out of sight or out of the world, I am not sure) and hence he had tried to locate the way himself on the presumption that it’d help us (and thereby delaying our trek)! So, another set of instruction-rattling ended with, “be there at the Semtokha Dzong by 12:30 in case you don’t hear from us”. Charles and Amitabh stopped a few localites that were travelling on the road for directions. Two different routes emerged from all the enquiries. One longer, and riskier. The other, shorter and easier. I wanted the riskier one. Charles and Mohan weren’t keen. Too many ‘what ifs’ were troubling them. I moved ahead with the support of Amitabh and then all of us were walking silently ahead on the supposedly tougher track.
We walked over two kilometres on a gently sloping road to reach Chamgang. The view was refreshingly beautiful! Lush green coniferous forests accompanied by a flowing stream looked picture perfect – straight out of one of Yash Chopra’s romances! “This is the real Bhutan” Charles said emphatically as though we were sceptical! On the way Mohan recounted his experience of trekking in Joshimath area – the anecdotes were interesting, particularly one about Pari Tal. “Nobody who has set out to see this place has ever returned” Mohan said. “Then how does anyone or you know that it exists?” was my question. There weren’t any convincing answers. Another thread of conversation followed. About the uprising of the Nepalis against the Monarchy in Bhutan. I asked Charles to give us more details.
In the early ‘90s the Bhutanese citizens of Nepali origin had formed a political party and demanded the abolition of Monarchy and establishment of democracy in Bhutan. The rebellion was crushed (with the help of the Indian Army) and many Nepalis were forced out of Bhutan. However the details that Charles gave weren’t convincing to Amitabh. He contested them hotly. “Sir you say that there were 5 Lakh Nepali Bhutanese in Thimphu and they were driven out from here. It is not correct. The uprising happened in Eastern Bhutan and not in Thimphu. And Thimphu has never had a total population of 5 lakhs, let alone just the Nepalis!” Charles surrendered rather meekly after that.
The above conversation was sparked because Chamgang houses a jail. And, soon we were reaching the jail. As we neared it, we had to cross a small stream strewn with slippery boulders. That reminded me of my circus from my college days.
Flashback
Madhu, Pradeep and I had gone to Mudumalai together. It was one of my first trips ever to any place! It was in 1989, November. While Madhu and Pradeep were natural at climbing, trekking and jumping, I was a clown, a pretender at the most. My problems were compounded by my lack of balance, fear and nearsightedness! And, at Mudumalai, during our short treks we had to cross the stream to explore the forests. My eagerness to explore was stronger than my fears and clumsiness. So, Madhu and Pradeep had to teach me how to jump from boulder to boulder and cross the stream. If the distance between the two boulders was a meter or less I could hop across (and provided the boulders were HUGE), else I’d fidget, fret and fritter away time, unsure of where to step and how to hop! Sure enough I was into water more times than jumping across. Pradeep was as agile as a deer and Madhu was as surefooted as a tiger! And, I was the bumbling baboon! Madhu and Pradeep tried teaching me the basics of jumping (without the ability to read my thoughts though). “Su, don’t look at the water, just look at the boulder on to which you want to jump. Arch your body forward and simply JUMP”. “Yes, Madhu” I’d say nodding my head (as though I understood the entire sequence of actions) and I would jump straight into water. Over several such misadventures, I was soaked and my brand new shoes were spoilt for life! Exasperated, the duo tried teaching me practically by holding my hand. The result? I ensured that both Madhu and Pradeep too ended in water for their efforts!
Back to the Present – Amitabh’s lost!
This time I carefully jumped from one boulder to another – I had handed my backpack, water bottle and jacket to Charles. Of course here we also stopped over to click some pictures. With help from settlers around the area we understood the route to the monastery and reached the jail. We took some time to convince the guards and police at the jail about our journey and ourselves. The police (named Karma) at last asked us to go ahead with helpful directions towards the monastery (“you’ve to climb the steep hill that you see from here and you’ll reach a motorable road. Walk along the road to reach the monastery”). Soon we were above the jail and there we could find two routes. Differences arose among us as to what route to choose. As we argued and talked among ourselves Amitabh had moved away. We assumed that he had gone to ask around the ‘correct track’ and waited for him. We also screamed his name at regular intervals but to no avail. I also started hearing screams from the jail and I assumed them to be of the prisoners – who probably were being beaten up! It sent shivers down my spine, and I realized how faint-hearted I am. As the wait prolonged I wondered about Amitabh and his non-return. “I hope he’s safe. I hope he’s not been taken in” I thought stupidly.
The agonising wait wasn’t bearable. So, the three of us started our ascent. The climb was steep. And since it was his first experience in Bhutan in trekking Mohan was tiring fast. We had to (I had to, more specifically) take breaks frequently to ensure that he could catch his breath and start climbing again. As we climbed there were more screams, “Amitabh, Amitabh”! Some cuss words too joined the screams but there was no response from Amitabh at all from anywhere. We wondered but weren’t sure if we should stop. With the height we were gaining we were losing water that we were carrying. And, this time I had taken the role of Charles – to cry of hunger. I was really ravenous. I considered eating cypress leaves a la Charles – even rhododendrons!
After a break in between – where we stopped to munch on some biscuits and drink water – we continued our climb. Once in a while there would be doubts about the track (all tracks that were visible were small and Mohan in particular wasn’t sure of the path that I’d lead to). Anyways, we persisted through the steep climb (though it wasn’t anywhere as difficult as Thadra Gompa). Soon we hit the motor road (no, it isn’t metalled; just jeeps can drive through this). Again, the road forked into two directions. We took the ascending side gingerly. I was the sceptic this time. Still now sign of Amitabh. The road was soft due to rains and trickling water from the mountains. Suddenly Charles and I had the idea of jogging. Leaving Mohan behind we ran on our way up assuming that we could run to the monastery! I stopped short in my tracks though, realising my stupidity. ‘How could you do this to Mohan? What if someone did this to you?’ I decided to wait and soon he joined. As we slowly trundled ahead I saw a small path that was going up and I asked Mohan if we could go up via this towards the monastery. “This seems to be the short cut”. We nonetheless moved away and ahead. The moment Charles was seen again (he hadn’t stopped running) we decided again to head back to the short cut.
Amitabh’s back!
All of us were hungry. As we climbed a little way up, we sat on tree trunks and opened our snack boxes. Mohan had brought tortilla chips and some fruits. I had biscuits and pomegranate. Just when we started eating I spotted Amitabh (was it me? Now I’m not very sure).
“Where did you vanish?”
“Sir I thought you were following me”
“But we thought you’d gone to find directions?”
“No Sir; how long it’s been since you are here?”
“Not too long. May be ten minutes”
“I trekked halfway and found that you weren’t following. I waited and then trekked back to the place where we had stopped first”
“Oh! You climbed up twice then?”
“We kept screaming for you but there was no response” one of us added.
It was a happy ending (and I was relieved of all my idiotic and not-so-positive thoughts)! Again, the guys – Charles and Mohan started having doubts about the route we had taken. “This seems to be made by woodcutters. There is no path here. We have to move back to the road”. I wouldn’t stop. I silently went up, forcing them to follow me.
The Summit!
A hundred steps (probably even less) ahead we saw the first signs of inhabitation. I turned back and celebrated my moment of victory. “You still want to head back to the road”. Sheepish smiles followed. I gloated (how sick I could get huh?)! Suddenly there was energy in the air (as usual Charles had to run again to reach the place first).
We had reached the summit from behind the monastery. The monastery was very old. However there were a large number of monks (and some devotees). Several young monks were playing caroms outside the monastery. Charles and Amitabh started camp-spotting from the top. They could see Dantak camp, the Officer’s mess and even the Guest Houses! I wasn’t sure if that was real or they were bluffing! Since I couldn’t see a thing I conveniently assumed it to be a lot of hot air in the cold!
After the perfunctory visits into the monastery (no descriptions here; not much there anyways to describe), pictures with the monks and the devotees, we were set to leave. As luck would have it there were some ten boys who had come visiting from the ILCS (Institute for Language and Cultural Studies). All of them had shaved their heads (explained that it is considered holy – like among the South Indian Hindus, I thought) and were dressed in traditional gho. I learnt very soon that they all were classmates (studying in Class XII) – they of course were older than our Indian Class 12 students (at 20).
The Descent
The boys asked us to join them – I remember a few names, Sherub Tsewang, Buchung, Karma – in climbing down the monastery via our unexplored track. I was keen but unsure about others. As I was about to start walking, Mohan called out, “let them go. We can go down separately. We can have beer on the way”. “But Sir, we don’t know this route. Let’s join them,” Amitabh said. So we started.
The boys were talking to us and among themselves animatedly. “What do you work as here?” “How much do you earn?” “How long is your tenure?” “Which place do you come from in India?” were the common questions. Barring Charles we were enthusiastically answering them. I was embarrassed to answer queries about our earnings though. Bhutanese earn much less than their Indian counterparts and I wasn’t keen to reveal the actual figures. Mohan was more forthcoming though. “We earn about Rs.65-70K a month here. In India it’d be about half of that” he offered to reply. They were awe-struck. I toned down that bit a little later while talking to the boys. They soon were singing joyfully and Mohan in his enthusiasm joined them! And they had amazing range and depth in their vocal chords. They could also sing in chorus well. Deepa surely would’ve nodded her head appreciatively had she been around. Remembering her I refused to join the voices for the fear of her disapproval (I could see a mental picture of her hands-on-hips-and-chin-up-with-eyes-of-determination-striking-a-pose-ready-to-slug-it-out and emphatically ticking me off with, “Sudhir I can’t suffer a donkey around me posing as a vocalist”!)!
The descent down the monastery was sharp. I also had learnt from the boys that its name was Talakha and not Tala (so much for data-collection)! We met some of the devotees who were at the monastery when we had arrived on their way back. There were more climbing their way towards the monastery – monks and locals. Buchung started having a conversation with me.
After the mandatory questions of origin, work, tenure and pay, we discussed education.
“Sir, what is your qualification?”
“I’ve done my post graduation – MBA”.
“Others too?”
“No. How old are you?”
“20. I started my schooling late. My parents are farmers and they didn’t give importance to my education”.
“But still it’s commendable you are continuing with your studies”
“In India by now most boys would’ve finished their graduation, right sir?”
“Yes, I’d finished mine. What do you study in your class?”
“English, Dzongkha”
“No other subjects? Like Maths, Science etc?”
“No Sir”. I was surprised.
The path down was thickly populated with rhododendrons in full bloom. Everyone wanted to pluck them and carry them home. The boys – eager to please us – plucked many for all of us. One of them though hesitatingly said, “Don’t destroy the environment and nature. Flowers look beautiful in their trees”. I turned and smiled at him. Then a friend came to his rescue and said, “Sir, according to Guru Rimpoche one should not pluck flowers..” and told me about the philosophy of Buddhism in Bhutan. I felt guilty. “This would be the last time I take flowers from my treks”, I promised. “No Sir. You can of course take them and offer them to the God or even your girl friend” they tried to placate.
Charles was leading the way all through. He wasn’t keen on befriending the Bhutanese boys. I learnt that he was not comfortable being friends with them – some status to maintain! The boys were a great help on my way down. They held me each time I slipped, supported me every time I lost balance and even carried my bag to help me climb down comfortably. They were always smiling, courteous, helpful and trying-hard-to-please-us. The descent was a pleasure and we hardly realized it took an hour to climb down till the Semtokha Dzong because of these boys’ company! We bid them adieu at their school. Buchung said, “Sir will remember me” as we shook hands and parted.
The vehicle was not waiting for us (as instructed). There were a lot of monks at the Semtokha Dzong. I ventured in and amid their smiles and indecipherable phrases asked about the timings of the Dzong (for no reason)! The beer cans were open in no time (and I refused to sip). After a few phone calls and a few minutes later, Kader appeared with his vehicle. “I had come here at 12 Sir. Since you weren’t here, I returned” said the wise guy!
Tail Piece
Probably it was my guilt – the flowers that I brought down wilted within no time! They didn’t survive even a day – unlike the previous collection. I know I wouldn’t again pluck them! ‘Be a Buddhist in Bhutan’ anyone? And, lastly, as I said, my post has turned out to be real pain-in-the-neck, can't help it though!
posted by Quintessential Critic (Sudhir Narayana) @ 5:17 PM
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