Where Are You Headed To?

How much apprehension and hesitation can one experience? Or is it possible that at each new situation one would experience these feelings? I tend to have more than my fair share of these emotions each time I am faced with a ‘different’ situation. Be it an invite to a reunion of old fellas from the school or having a friend come over and stay with you for a few days, travelling with a companion across the country side. Or, asking for a favour (that I badly need) from a colleague/boss/friend. And, once committed to any of these above activities I always try to see if there are avenues that’d let me escape from them! I’d wish even the most ‘ridiculous’ things to happen so that I don’t have to meet these oldies from school or having the friend at home. I’d wish something catastrophic to happen so that I don’t have to travel!

After having cribbed that none visited me in Bhutan, I now have a friend coming over, staying with me and travelling with me to Central and Eastern Bhutan. As the date of his arrival and stay draws closer I just wonder if there’s some reason that I can use to ‘retreat’ from this whole thing! However I also realize that each time I have ‘rethought’ my decisions (albeit the other person not knowing I’ve done something like that) I’ve been the loser! I can quote umpteen examples including my golf sessions or getting a weapon for myself.

This time I’m holding my nerves and keeping my fingers crossed. I hope I won’t commit any hara-kiri and be a decent host.

Starting end of this week I’ll be travelling all over Bhutan and parts of West Bengal and Nepal. In the company of KK who's arrived from Bangalore. Looking forward to the journey with both enthusiasm and trepidation. Hope to come back with memories for days to come! And, pictures and stories for the blog too...

Good News!

Time to celebrate! My posting orders have been issued and the department otherwise known to be mean and nasty has been kind enough to post me to Bangalore (it's always been kind to me though)! Yet again I get an independent charge. No boss sitting over my head. And come to think of it, I am yet to see an office where I've a boss supervising me on real-time, regular basis. At this rate, I might end up being a very difficult person to handle when I get posted under someone! It has to happen someday - sooner or later.

So, the countdown to move from Bhutan has started. I know I'll miss this place!

A Time for India

“I don’t like the soup Sudhir” SC whispered next to me. “Let’s just get through with this S… We can leave after this” I consoled him. He and I were due for a dinner date. We were all sitting at Kamat Bugle Rock. “This is the book I’ve co-authored” Lakshmi said as she passed a copy around the table for everyone to see. I remembered the first mail she and I had exchanged after we had gotten back in touch – after a life-altering span of over two decades. She’d mentioned about it in her mail. Lakshmi, Bala, Shashi, Vasantha, Meena and I had gathered in Bangalore to muse over the nostalgia of a bygone era – our school days. (May be I’ll write a separate post on the reunion).

“May I have a copy of it Lakshmi?” I asked “I didn’t find it in any bookshop”. “Of course Sudhir. You won’t find one in India probably” Lakshmi replied. She expressed her disappointment over the review KB Ganapathy (I hope I’ve got the spelling right Lakshmi!) had written in Star of Mysore where Lakshmi had worked many years ago. As I left early from the reunion gathering, Lakshmi handed me an autographed copy of her book.

I didn’t immediately read it. I had just started reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I also had False Impression (J Archer) to read. I thought I’d read ‘A Time for India’ at leisure. When I spoke to Lakshmi last she asked me “How did you find it?” “Watch my blog. I’ll post a review”. This is an attempt to keep my promise.

“A Time for India” is written by Dan Ellens and Lakshmi has contributed several chapters to it. The book largely is about Mr. Ellens’ two year stay in India and his experiences of living/working/travelling here. Lakshmi chips in with her insights into the Indian history and culture. It is difficult to ‘slot’ this book into any particular genre. Sometimes I felt it was an attempt at writing a travelogue and at others it was like an introduction to India to the uninitiated Americans.

Dan Ellens’ enthusiasm to write about his India Experience is palpable. He definitely has a story to tell too. There are several interesting anecdotes too that bring a smile (or even a chuckle or two). And, one soul-searching question – when his son Kirk assumes that he’s a native and not an expatriate. But all these things fail to hold the book together. The reader’s interest waxes at times and wanes at others. What could have been a winner on the lines of ‘The Inscrutable Americans’ turns flat. It appears that Dan doesn’t have a flair for writing. He doesn’t have the vocabulary of an author. Even the funniest of encounters he has experienced turn prosaic due to a lack of imagination in his narrating style. At times his writing borders on the banal and resembles an India Travel Guide penned in a tearing hurry.

Condensing the entire history and culture of India into a few chapters (of not more than 6-7 pages each) is not a task that many would venture into. And the onus to do it for this book is on Lakshmi. It would be unfair to criticise her efforts as she tries to provide as much information and as succinctly as possible. But one can’t expect those few pages to do justice to either the vast history or the humongously rich and diverse culture of India. It can be noticed that very little of South Indian history is written about in the book. And of North Indian society or culture. It surely wouldn’t be an oversight. It’s natural that Lakshmi would focus on the South Indian culture (Tamil to be more precise) when she writes about Indian culture (the chapters on religion and customs). But Lakshmi your narration at times is way too pat when giving live examples of current India – you sure could’ve come up with something better than naming people Ram and Shyam!

The book doesn’t become a racy read either. Dan decides to club all similar things together. Like his travels around the country, all the festivals he celebrated, the culture-curry, etc. Had an attempt been made to write it chronologically than being laconic and had it also recounted some of the experiences of the other family members too (Cathy and the children – though the author mentions in the preface that they would every evening share their day’s comical experiences at the dinner table they don’t appear in the book), the book certainly would’ve been more enjoyable. Also I found the constant reference to lizards extremely unfunny and jarring.

Then there are several factual errors in the book. Bhutan, for one, was NEVER a part of India. And Vijayanagar Empire was founded in South India and not Central. The Buddha lived in the 6th Century BC. I would have loved to argue also about the ‘theories’ that have been made use in the book while reconstructing the Indian history. But then Lakshmi wasn’t writing a history book. And she does have the liberty to choose the theory that fits her best.

If only Dan had a better editor the book could have been turned around, rewritten a bit and rearranged a bit more to make it interesting, witty and a wonderful account of living in India. Then I wouldn’t have had to disappoint Lakshmi with my write-up on something close to her heart. Certainly this is not the vehicle for Lakshmi to showcase her writing talents. All she has to do is to dive deep into her own rich experiences (including teaching English to children in Mysore) to write a wonderful book. I hope she’ll consider that and oblige us with an independent work of her own!

Into the Wilderness

(Possible readers beware, a long post ahead! Brevity surely isn’t my forte)!

Friday began with the persistent ring of the cell phone. “Sir, Rinpoche has planned a trek-cum-puja. It’s the Holy Smoke Day tomorrow. He wants you too to join in. Would you? I know your parents are around…” Sunil trailed off over phone. “Where would we be heading to?” “It’s on the way from Paro to Thimphu Sir. You don’t have to travel to Paro and then come back”. “Let me think Sunil”. Parents had just arrived from home (thanks to Mohan who had brought them along with his own parents from Bangalore). I wondered if it was appropriate to go away to trek while they were very new to the place. And, I knew my mom would feel very jittery if I went on treks. “Be careful. Don’t climb too fast. Don’t jump around. Don’t this, don’t that” she would tell me a thousand times each time I’d headed for a trek when she was in Bhutan last time (from October to December). And, her eyes would be glued to the road until I was back. Invariably she’d say, “I was worried. You really took a long time to return”!

Sunil and I had disappointed the Rinpoche twice in the same week. He wanted to celebrate his birthday with us. I was unable to do that as parents had just arrived the day before. He also wanted to take us to the Chele La Pass and star-gaze in the night (over a heady mix of the Buddhist philosophy and Arra). That was not meant to happen either. When I’d called him to wish him he literally screamed (forgetting he has supposedly renounced everything)!

Who’s this Rinpoche? How do I know him?
Sunil, one of the several Kannada friends here in Bhutan is an Army Officer, posted at Paro. We hit off well from the moment we were introduced (early 2006). He happened to get introduced to the Rinpoche by Major General Dhendup Tshering of Royal Bhutan Guards. (“He’s my godfather” I remember Rinpoche telling me). (Any) Rinpoche is a great religious leader and head of an important monastery. The Rinpoche we know is the 9th incarnation of the Heyphug Monastery and is known as Neyphug Trulku Rinpoche. Many people also fondly call him ‘Tiku’ (a corrupted form of ‘Trulku’). The monastery ‘Tiku’ heads is over 500 years old. But, thanks to the long gap in the selection of the present Rinpoche after the death of the 8th Rinpoche, the monastery is almost in ruins. ‘Tiku’ was very young when he was picked up from Eastern Bhutan and anointed as the ‘next’ in line to head the Heyphug monastery. He was sent to Bylakuppe in Karnataka to study Buddhist theology. After many years of study, he’s now back in Bhutan and trying to revive the monastery to its earlier glory days. There are enough myths that surround the monastery and its earlier Rinpoches. They’d themselves make an interesting book!

So, through Sunil I met the Rinpoche – we travelled to attend the Tsechu at his monastery (Tsechu means ‘festival’ in Dzongkha, the Bhutanese language). I was impressed with the Rinpoche, the aura was unmistakably there. The first visit led to the second and the third. By the time we met at Sunil’s promotion party (from Captain to Major) we had become good friends!

Back to the present.
I called Sunil and told him I’d be coming. I organised for the vehicle to take me to the place we were supposed to meet up. ‘Kapsa Tapchu’. “How far is it from Semtokha?” I asked Sunil. “I have no idea Sir. Please speak to Rinpoche”. And Rinpoche was either unavailable or not answering the phone. I learnt in all there would be over 40 people travelling to the temple where the puja was to be conducted, including Maj. Sither of the Royal Bhutan Army (who works at the Airport and is good company) and Aum Dechen Wangmo, a gutsy and beautiful lady who runs a good restaurant and travel agency in Paro. Each of us was to cook and carry a dish. I chose to make pulao. We were supposed to reach the rendezvous 7AM sharp.

Weekend. And invariably a flash-session was planned at HKS’s place. I found it difficult to stir out of the bed in the morning. With great reluctance I trundled into the kitchen and made the pulao (mom was a great help as I got ready). The vehicle arrived at 6. “What time would you be back?” mom asked her usual question. “By afternoon or early evening ma”. “Be careful” she didn’t forget to add!

I had NO idea where Kapsa Tapchu was. After travelling nearly 10kms towards Paro, we stopped at a small village and asked someone basking in the morning sun. “Which is the road to Kapsa Tapchu?” “THIS is Kapsa Tapchu” the old man replied. I’d seen this village a hundred times! We’d reached. Time to wait for the rest of the pack to arrive. 15 minutes and all others had arrived. “Now where’s the monastery/temple we are headed to?” I asked Rinpoche who still was daggers-drawn at not having made it to Paro for his b’day! “Oh! We have to go beyond the leprosy hospital to Bimrey” he replied vaguely. “Is there place in your vehicle?” I nodded affirmatively. “Then please bring my cousin, niece and father in your vehicle”.

Soon we had left behind the metalled roads and we were on dirt-track along a gushing stream. The road began to climb uphill with several hairpin bends. There was only space for one vehicle to move. “What if we encounter trucks coming from the opposite direction?” I had no reply to that. After driving for over an hour and a half we reached the end of the tracks and a huge field. When everyone got off the Rinpoche announced grandly, “From here we have to trek for two hours”! I thought I’d faint. “Don’t bother to wait here. Go back, have lunch and come back Chandrayan. Also tell my parents that I’d be late” I told the driver.

Climbing a steep mountain with even a gram of weight apart from your own is a Herculean task. But my long daily walks, over 6 months of non-smoking (but for a mini-break in between) and several earlier treks came in handy. The weather too was just right for the trek. And, we were 40 people and loads of fun. But some of us had set the pace. Soon, Sunil, Sither, Dechen and I had left everyone behind (including Rinpoche and a few other monks). The climb though arduous was invigorating. The mountain was lush green, there were flowers everywhere (I’d stop to admire them every now and then much to the annoyance of others. I even wanted many pictures of these flowers. Unfortunately Sunil’s NOT a good photographer by any yardstick and the pictures turned out damp squib – but for some of those that I clicked). And Sither was keeping us engaged with his recounting of the myths relating to Bimrey. Yes, Bimrey was the place we were trekking to. The place from where the line of Heyphug monastery and its Rinpoche all began. In the 16th Century.

It took just over two hours for us to reach the temple. “This was built by angels (Dakinis in the Vajrayana Buddhist lore) in a single night” Sither informed us. “You know Dakinis are Divine beings that are small. If you go around the temple and look at the large stones you’ll see their footprints where they first landed to help the first Rinpoche. Only a portion of the temple is allowed to be seen as it was originally built. The Royal Government has built a wall all around it for protection” he continued as he showed us around the temple. Soon, the little monks at the temple complex had brought us water and tea. We were simply soaking in the natural beauty around us. I discovered some tiny, shiny yellow flowers that were lovely. They looked as though they were freshly oil-painted. There was another monastery that we could view using our binoculars. Sither had another story to relate about the distant monastery – that a greedy one tried to steal precious jewels at the shrine. When he touched the jewels, his palm got glued to the place and wouldn’t budge. He had to chop his palm off to run away from being caught. Even to this day the hand stays there – stuck to the shrine, shrivelled albeit. Hmm!!

An hour after we had reached the rest of the group filed in. After some refreshments and meeting some of the monks who were meditating near the temple (in caves) we trouped into the shrine for the special prayers. It’s a hair-raising experience to listen to all the monks (and monks had come from several monasteries already) chant the Buddhist scripts in chorus without missing a beat. It’s considered holy to receive rains just after the prayers. And it promptly showered. Everyone was blissful! Once the prayers were over (some of us were requested to leave the prayer hall early and just leave the monks behind) we heard the story (the myth) of the building of the Bimrey temple from Aum Ani Rinzin, the Rinpoche’s mother. She also happens to be the Royal Predictor – Fortune Teller (when Mrs. Mohan heard the Rinpoche say this another time when we all met, just after the trek, she heard it as ‘Royal Predator’).

Soon we were lunching. There were as many varieties of ‘dashis’ as possible. Emadashi, kevadashi, mushroom dashi, beans dashi. Dashi means curry. Every curry is made with cheese (yak cheese generally) and chillies. Emadashi is chilli curry. And the curries are eaten with rice. Bhutanese love their food spicy. Their ‘doma-eating’ habits also necessitate this I guess. Of course there was non-vegetarian stuff too (fish, chicken and pork; beef was forbidden by the Rinpoche for the day). The Rinpoche soon after lunch asked Sunil and I to join the dancers (monks largely) – so we tried to learn a bit of Bhutanese song and dance. It was hilarious.

The best part of the trek happened now. I was introduced to Phub Tshering, a monk meditating in one of the caves around. A tall, majestic and extremely serene looking person, he was accompanying his Guru (Khempo, ‘professor’). When I addressed him ‘Lama’ he said, “Call me Phub. I’m fine with it”. I’d to request him to call me by my name as he insistently addressed me as ‘Sir’ – embarrassing even to an egoist! Suddenly my mind said that he’s the RIGHT person to ask all my long-lingering questions on the Buddhism followed in Bhutan. I stuck to him like glue from then until evening when it was time to leave and get home before mom would come looking for me! (I’ve to write a separate post on the experience of meeting Phub. I have his contact details too and would meet him again).

Another short trek followed to the meditation centre of the Rinpoche. Every Rinpoche of the Heyphug monastery meditates here – sometimes for months. And, a long retinue of flags were carried by all of us from the temple to the meditation centre. The view from the meditation hall was breath-taking. On one side we could see the entire Paro town and on the other, the sprawling city of Thimphu. We also meditated at the same place where the first Rinpoche had meditated and had had a vision of Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava, the harbinger of Buddhism into Bhutan). A Kannada conversation too was thrown in as several of the monks and nuns had educated themselves in Bylakuppe near Mysore (where the Tibetan refugee camp is located along with a monastic school).

My moments of pride came soon after this. The Rinpoche handed me a specially-worshipped flag. “Tie this at the house you’re planning to build. It’ll bring you peace”. As we were taking leave of the Kempo and other meditators, I too tried to bow and kiss the hand of the Kempo like all others. He said, “No, you’ll not do that” and proceeded to touch his forehead to mine – something that’s done between equals. I was touched (and I thought I’d float). It reminded me of two other similar incidents that had happened. During my visit to Punakha a lama walked up to me and tied a sacred thread around me. I was surprised as it’s not tied to any non-Bhutanese. Again in Taktsang, a Lama offered me a white scarf ignoring all others who had travelled along.

It was close to 9 in the night when I reached home. I’d had the sense to call parents once I was able to access the network on my cell. The experience of Bimrey will stay fresh for years to come. Thanks to the many friends I made on the way.