Land of the Thunder Dragon: Part II

When you go to Bhutan, you travel in time as well as distance.

The kingdom does not have a single traffic light; you can still see uniformed traffic cops directing traffic with their hands, standing in specially built booths. Cigarette sales are banned. Bhutan has no advertisements and no billboards - not even from the government. The font size for the names of shops is prescribed and uniform. Bhutan was the last country on earth to get television (in 1999). Traditional dress is mandatory in government offices and some public places. Men wear a gho, a long single-piece robe belted and hitched up at the waist. Looking like a dressing gown, it is worn with knee-length socks. Women wear the kira, a floor-length straight dress with a blouse and short jacket. 

Bhutan has not an inch of railway, road transport is the only option. Being a mountainous region, no road is straight. Some roads are a roller coaster of zigzags and ups and downs. The view is generally one of mountains on one side and steep valleys on the other. The narrowness of the roads makes your heart pray to the Buddhist Gods you have just visited. Non-Bhutanese should never ever attempt to drive in Bhutan. When you return from Bhutan to your own country, you marvel at the straightness of the roads.

The kingdom propagates and monitors Gross National Happiness (GNH) rather than the Gross Domestic product (GDP), but I will write about that in another part.   

Live like a King

Foreigners, even Indians, can live like kings in Bhutan. Services are cheap and good.

Paro’s Gangtey Palace offers a hot stone bath. Riverside rocks are heated till red hot and slowly dropped into a wooden tub filled with water and scattered with Artemisia leaves and rose petals. The burning rocks heat the water and release minerals at the same time. Three tubs were prepared for my wife, daughter and me. The air temperature was around 10C. I briefly debated whether to let my five year old daughter see me completely naked. Convincing myself that nudeness is part of nature, I dropped all my clothes. You run to the tub shivering slightly, enter it and then lie in it for an hour or so. The soothing scent and the soaking in the hot mineral water have a meditative effect.

In Thimpu’s Namgay hotel, I treated myself to a manicure and pedicure with four young Bhutanese girls, two working on my hands and two on feet at the same time.  I felt much like the former king of Bhutan who had married four sisters. This was followed with a massage with aromatic oils. My wife and I took it on adjacent beds. Here the hotel took care to provide a young masseuse for my wife, and an old lady for me.

Each of these pampering services cost between 600/700 Rupees (12-14 USD then) per person.

So many queens’ palaces

One of our tasks on reaching Thimpu was to find the queen-grandmother. Surprisingly, there was no address anywhere, not on the letter from Mena’s uncle, not in the internet.

Bhutan’s fourth king, Jigme Singye Wangchuk, is an interesting person. Educated in India and England, he was a reformist king. He introduced the concept of Gross National Happiness. He had always maintained he would abdicate the throne on reaching 50, and he did it voluntarily by making his son the new king at 26. (Some monarchs won’t give up their crown even in their nineties).

If I remember correctly, the king went to ask for the hand of a girl he fell in love with. (They presumably met in India). Her elder sister was divorced, and she had two younger sisters. The girl’s father said if his daughter were to marry the king, who will marry the other three, particularly the divorced sister? By one girl marrying into royalty, the sisters can no longer marry commoners. To resolve the problem, the king offered to marry all four sisters. He married them in 1979 in a private ceremony, and was persuaded to hold a royal wedding nine years later.

Each queen was given a separate palace. As a result, Thimpu has so many queens’ palaces, we were at a loss to find the queen we were looking for.

Fax me what you are saying

While we were mulling our predicament, we bumped into an American lady at the only coffee shop in Thimpu, called Swiss Bakery. Kim is from New York. Going to Bhutan may be pricey for American and European tourists, but they can come to Bhutan to work or volunteer and none of the visa restrictions apply. Kim is an education adviser, working closely with the Bhutan foundation and the ministry of education. She had been living in Bhutan for some time. (She would later take us to see a couple of schools, an experience in itself). In Bhutan in general, and in Swiss bakery in particular, anyone can start talking with anybody without reason. We chatted with Kim, and during our talk mentioned the queen we were looking for.

“I can give you her secretary’s number” Kim wrote it down for me.

I called the number and the queen’s secretary picked it up on the second ring itself. I explained who we were, and how the queen we were looking for was a fan of my wife’s uncle. We were in Thimpu, and would love to meet her.

“Please write to me what you told me.” Queen’s secretary said.

“There is nothing more.” I said. I had explained everything there was to explain.

“You may write exactly what you told me, and send it by fax. Here is the fax number.”

Fortunately, our Thimpu hotel had a fax. I wrote our request and faxed it. I mentioned how long we would be in Thimpu. The same evening, the secretary called me. Two days later, on 1 May, the queen would see us in her palace at 4 pm, for an afternoon tea. Please ask your driver to call me, I will give him directions, he said.

Meeting with Chukie-om  

I spoke to Chukie-om the same evening. She said she would be happy to have us for afternoon tea the following day. Please give us your address, we will come on our own, I said.

Please don’t worry, I will meet you in the centre and take you to my home.

We agreed to meet outside the textile museum. I assumed Chukie-om’s house was at a walking distance from there. It wasn’t.

*****

Outside the textile museum the next day, waiting for Chukie-om, the three of us had no idea how to spot her. When you wait for a person you have never met, you observe each person walking towards you and wonder if that’s the one. I knew she spoke excellent English, but that told me nothing about how she looked or dressed.

A Prado Land cruiser Toyota suddenly stopped in front of us. In Bhutan, such cars attract more attention than elsewhere. A girl who looked like a Japanese princess came out and shook our hands. This was Chukie-om - the same person I had addressed as Mr Chukie-om not so long ago.

Visit to the Bhutanese house  

The land cruiser kept going up and up until we reached Chukie-om’s house, at the top of Thimpu. Its entrance reminded me of the Kew gardens in London. The vast garden welcomed you before you reached the house. Chukie-om’s father greeted us.

Some wise men, some geniuses have no small talk. Chukie-om’s father, Togbe Dorji, was one such man. As soon as we sat at the tea table, Togbe began telling us stories from Vajrayana Buddhism, Bhutan’s religion. He explained how the mantra “om mani padme hum” carved on prayer wheels across Bhutan comes from Sanskrit. In simple language, he elaborated how chanting of the mantra helps the purification of body, speech and mind.

Togbe Dorji did not talk like a preacher, his speech was practical and rational. His wife and Chukie-Om’s sister soon joined us. We were served tea. In some context, Togbe mentioned something about Delhi. It was evident he knew Delhi well.

“You seem to know India well.”

“I lived in Delhi for eight years.”

“Eight years? What did you work as?” I was struggling to imagine an Indian company hiring a Bhutanese for work, even a wise person like Togbe.

“I was Bhutan’s ambassador there.” Togbe said.

“Oh!” I said. “And before that?”

“Before that I was Bhutan’s ambassador to the USA – for seventeen years.”

“How does one become an ambassador here?” I asked. India has the Indian civil service established by the British. I didn’t think Bhutan would have anything similar.

“You see, my father was Bhutan’s Prime minister...”

“... until he was assassinated.” I completed the sentence reflexively. Suddenly the penny had dropped. Chukie-om Dorji and her father Togbe Dorji belonged to the Dorji lineage. If Togbe’s father was not assassinated Togbe and then probably Chukie-om could have been Bhutan’s prime ministers.

I narrated the 1964 assassination and its background to Togbe. I paid compliments to his murdered father for the reforms he had boldly carried out in Bhutan. My Bhutan reading had happened just before leaving; I could reproduce many details from my short-term memory.

Now Togbe and Chukie-0m were looking at me speechless.

“How do you know so much about the 1964 event?” Togbe asked me.

“This was explained in detail by Nari Rustomji in his book ‘the Dragon Kingdom in crisis.” I said.

“Oh, that explains it. That book is banned in Bhutan. We may have a copy lying somewhere in this house. But except our family few people in Bhutan would know these details.”

Chukie-om Dorji, who I initially assumed was a male clerk employed by Gangtey palace turned out to be the owner of Gangtey palace.

In our talk, we mentioned our visit to the queen-grandmother’s palace the following day. I also mentioned the difficulties we had until an American lady had helped us.

“Oh, she is my aunt.” Togbe said. “My father’s sister. I’ll call her now. I’ll tell her you two are with us now.” Togbe briefly left, made the call and came back. “I believe Chukie-om is arranging a car for you, to take you to Punakha and Bumthang. Good. Tshering is the driver’s name. He’ll pick you up from your hotel tomorrow and take you to my aunt’s palace. No need to get directions, he has been there many times.”

We thanked Togbe, Chukie-om and the rest of the family. The land cruiser dropped us back. We had managed to visit a Bhutanese house as I had wanted. But neither the house nor its occupants represented the average Bhutanese population.

(Continued next week)

Ravi