Drakarpo Kora in Paro

The Drakarpo Kora in Paro has become one of the most happening Buddhist pilgrimage in these few years. I have heard of hundreds of people taking what is considered the toughest spiritual journey one could possibly venture on. It's the circumambulation of the intriguing rocky hill that is considered sacred. What makes it the extreme endurance test is the number of times you have to walk around the hill- 108! It takes four long days to accomplish the journey on healthy legs. There is also a lighter version of doing 13 round if you don't have four days to spare. I just did one round that day and it took me about 25 minutes on my fresh legs.

Drakarpo

When I was there I have seen people of different ages inching along the hill in peaceful silence- they were all perhaps seeking different things through the same journey. There was no rush whatsoever, and each one has kept their own pile of pebbles to keep count of the number of rounds they made. From the hundreds of piles of pebbles I could make out how many people had already done the arduous journey. Some have built little stupas from the 108 pebbles using red mud as holder. There were also other who marked their count on the ground or rock face using scratch marks.

Piles of Pebble counter

A signboard at the starting point reads:

"This place is considered very holy and sacred. The 8th Century revered saint, Guru Padmasambhava accompanied by his consort Dakini Yeshey Tshogay and Many other Yogis and great masters down the ages have blessed and sanctified this particular place.
If you carefully observe the rocks along the path as you walk along the mountain, you can see foot and hand prints and many other auspicious sings and symbols believed to have manifested by themselves through some supernatural forces. It is also believed that if one circumambulate the mountain 108 times, even sins so great as killing one's own parents can merit redemption."

 

It's quite a proclamation to say that circumambulating the mountain 108 times could merit redemption of sins so great as killing one's own parents but doing it could very much bring about the highest level of satisfaction no matter what type of believer you are;

If you are a hardcore religious person then this journey is for you because it promises you the highest level of reward- accumulation of greatest merits and redemption of your worst sins. It's your stairway to heaven. Every round shall make you feel closer to the heaven.

If you are a spiritual person seeking inner peace then this journey is for you because four days of quiet time on the beautiful alpine hill with spellbinding view of Paro valley will give you all the time and ambience to reflect on your life and make peace with yourself. With life getting busier by the day we must make such deliberate choices to be with ourselves.

If you are not a believer of that sort and you consider yourself a practical person who knows that life is what we make of it, still this journey is for you because when was the last time you tested your endurance? It's such beautiful a way to give priority to your physical health. You have no idea how every stretch of you muscle will be put to task, and you will bathe in your own sweat. It's the mountain gym you will love. After four days you would have added fews years more to your life and you will realise how truly life is what you make of it.

Uphill

Downhill

I particularly love the idea of walking around that beautiful hill 108 times because I like challenges, I am thinking of doing it in three days. My mother completed it in four days, so i have to prove that I am her son. I will time every round and beat my own time and set record. In doing it I want to have conversation with myself and try to find inner peace. I also want break my habits of lazing around and improve blood flow in my heart. I am going to do this very soon. I need to look for a good team to camp up there with me.

Map of the Journey I traced 

The entire path is well paved with stone slabs. I remember my friend Karma Tenzin doing it as a social project with his students when he in Yeozerling School. There is water scarcity and once I was told that a bucket of water was sold for Nu.200. Bhutan Trust Fund has funded a project to bring water there. There is no toilet facility. One private toilet that was there was locked and I am told that it's inaccessible. It's intriguing to find people who won't even share their toilet. But don't worry I was there particularly to look for a spot to build a toilet. We hope to do it very soon.

If you have any questions, leave it in the comment section. I will answer you promptly.

Ap Phub's Bridge to Laya

It has been over six months since I took that memorable journey to Laya. I found treasure house of stories to blog about. I have put them all in chapters in my head, chronologically. So much water has flowed under the bridge since and I am still stranded in Laya as a blogger. I couldn't move on without having done telling the stories I held so dearly inside me. Perhaps, it's time I let go and set myself free with this last story. If I ever regain the right kind of emotion I might come back to continue from where I left.


Among the many stories I heard on my way to Laya and back, my Oscar goes to this story about Ap Phub and his bridge. I was lucky to be in the company of local boy Dasho Sangay Khandu while passing through the setting of this story. A decade later this story will be told as a legend or even a fairy tale but I was lucky to have met the man himself right after I heard the story from Dasho. It was like meeting the actor at the end of the movie.

Eight years ago Ap Phub, known in Laya as Khadhip Phub, won the contract to build a wooden bridge over river Mo Chu on the way to Laya. It was perhaps a mistake on his part to dare the project at all, because that section of the river was wide and the temporary winter bridges never survived to see the summer.

Therefore, for ages people have been taking an additional hour of detour over the mountain in the absence of the bridge during the summers. Ap Khadhip wasn't so clever to understand why people weren't competing against him. The old man began the construction and invested so much in labour and resources. He did it. He completed the difficult bridge.

With Khadhip Phub

But before the Dzongkhag officials could come to assess his work his bridge was washed away by the river. It wasn't anything to be surprised about. It happened each year. However, because it was a contracted project he couldn't receive his money without a bridge to show to the officials. He only had witnesses to validate that he had done the job but without a visible bridge over the river the officials had no basis to pay him.

Any other man would have fought for the money differently, most probably in the court but this old man went back to the bridge site and began working again. Putting in his own money. Only to watch his new bridge wash away before the completion. 

Many travellers who passed through this route had seen him working on the bridge, year after year, sometime with some help but mostly alone. He began living in the cave near his worksite. It became his home. 

The setting of the legend

In last eight years, government has changed, Dzongda has changed and perhaps most of the official in the Dzongkhag must have changed but he couldn't yet handover his bridge and claim his bills. Perhaps even if he did complete his work now, there won't be anyone to take it over and pay him his bills. Yet he is there, forever working on the bridge. 

It's said that his story even got Royal attention and he was granted soelray by His Majesty the King. He was asked to go back home and take rest. He went back home for a while, only to return to his cave and work on his bridge. There seemed to be reasons beyond money for him.

Across the Bridge built by RBA

When we were travelling to Laya there was a bridge over the river constructed by Royal Bhutan Army for the festival. Close to the new bridge we could see the remains of his fallen bridge. His cave was empty that day, because he has gone ahead of us to be at the Highland Festival. We met him eventually at the next camp. 

Perhaps he must have seen the soldiers built the new bridge; what must have gone through his mind? Would he have finally found peace having seen a bridge over the river? Because I feel that it's no more about the money, it's about seeking inner peace and nursing his wounded pride. It's about honour. I would love to know if he ever came back to his cave after that.

I am sure there must be a term for this special condition but I would love to call this the Khadhip syndrome. I wish we all had this syndrome, especially those people in important positions, entrusted with important national tasks to become obsessed for honour than recognition or money. 

Disclaimer: If there are some factual errors or missing information, it's because of the 6 months that has come between me and the story. If friends who know about him find any mistakes kindly let me know.

Setting up Toilet in Laya

- 15th October 2016

Last night we slept with the horses. Someone should have told us to close the garden gate to keep away horses. Sleeping in a tent for the first time in ages was already an exciting experience to fully be at peace and on top of that I could feel the horses strolling by my head, inches away with just a thin layer of tent between their hard hooves and my skull. I had always heard that horses won’t miss a step and I gambled on that knowledge.

Only in the morning we learned that they did miss a lot of steps last night and removed most of the pegs that we had used to hold our tents. The kitchen team reported that they had to wake up in the middle of the night and re-pitch their tent, which the horses sent crashing down on them.

The moment you came out of the tent, in every direction you could see the kind of sceneries you would see in the postcards where you had often shamelessly fantasized yourself in. Laya in reality was far more glorious than that in my imagination.

From the picture Dasho Dzongda had shown to us in Thimphu I knew Laya was not yet done amazing us. The festival ground was yet to be seen. We saw convoy of people climbing the hill to the ground and I grew restless. The size of our team made it obviously difficult to keep to the schedule and moreover we realized our actual campsite was further up in a green patch of land, for which we had to undo everything and look for horses.

To my team’s credit they let me and my two staff go ahead of them while the took care of setting up the new camp because we had toilets to set up for the event.

Chimi and Menda helping us in carrying our materials 

The event ground was further up the hill on a spellbinding flatland among hills. The ticket to seeing the stunning view up there was the hard uphill climb from the village, literally crossing the tree line. For locals it was a walk in the park but I could see everyone else catching their breadth between every two steps and looking back at the village as if to see how far they had climbed. Imagine having to do this hard little trek every morning for the rest of our days in Laya! Of course I took it as a daily practice for my journey back to Gasa.

The ground was a shallow depression on the slope of the gigantic hill that could easily adjust two football fields. From my little geography knowledge I could assumed that there must had been a lake here once upon a long time. The highland grass gave the ground a flawless finish. With over 60 bja pitched around the ground the place looked like an ancient battlefield.

At over 12,000 feet it was going to be the highest point we had ever setup toilets at. Now we had to look for the someone who could tell us where we were allotted the space to pitch our toilets. We brought eight camping toilets that were most suitable for the festival considering all the factors. The toilets had to be imported from Bangkok and without the office of the Gyalpoi Zimpon we would have never gotten them. We didn’t even have a solid backup plan incase the toilet didn’t make it on time.

When we finally found the person who was overlooking the management of the event. He didn’t look quite pleased to see us. He said he was expecting us earlier. Well I thought I should narrate our horse story but he wasn’t so friendly to spend my time telling stories. He pointed at a spot with his walkie-talkie quite a distance uphill. I straightaway told him it was too far but he defended saying it was decided thus. He threw quite a few names before he left in hurry holding the handset high.

My team walked up to the spot to inspect the location but halfway up we were exhausted. Imagine having to scale this distance with an upset tummy! No, not possible. We went back to negotiate the location but the guy wouldn’t listen. He said the location I was proposing was too close for toilets. I asked why. He said it would be an eyesore and the wind would blow the foul smell right into the event ground. That’s when I asked him, “Who told you my toilets are ugly? Who told you my toilets will stink? I haven’t come all the way to make an ugly-stinky toilet.”

In the following days I would see this man rushing to our toilet from time to time and I at time felt like stopping him and pointing to the location he had given me.

This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. At every event we had been to we had suffered this kicking-the-toilet-away issue. I would call it our achievement the day this prejudice stops.

I nagged to Dasho Sangay Khandu and told him that I was not going to put my toilets where no one would reach. Poor Dasho who was himself a guest there with no role in the management of event nonetheless managed to fish in someone who hesitantly decided to accept my offer.

Gasa engineering team along with some friends from media helped us dig up the ground. Over the holes we placed the prefab floorboards and pitched the foldable tents over them. In less than an hour our toilets were ready. And before we left we gave our magic touch- a bucketful of sawdust inside each toilet to conceal the bad sight and bad smell at all times. We nearly brought sawdust all the way from Thimphu, not knowing that we could get it right here in Laya.

After my stage was set I went around shanking countless hands because everyone I knew in Thimphu was here in Laya. Towards evening we headed to the royal guesthouse to assess the toilet there. It was located below the event ground on a similar flatland across the village. It was further than it looked but climbing down was not much of an issue. I told the security guards about my purpose of visit and they reported that to the officer over the set.

“Dasho, Bhutan Toilet Org has come to inspect the toilet.”
“Ok, let them in.” Came the reply that made me feel like a real toilet professional. Once inside I removed my shoes and went straight to royal shangchab. The carpet was damp so I instructed the guards to dry them right away. I had a replacement in my bag but the one there was of better color. I put the seat warmer, placed the hand sanitizer, air freshener, and hand towel and wiped every part of the toilet dry. The security guard looked convinced and that made me proud.

It was a busy first day in Laya and I was yet to interact with locals and explore their way of life. Returning to the village I was lost again, I couldn’t locate my new camp. In a distance I saw a man walking with his huge solar flashlight that could play loud music from pen drive. I called out to him,

“Could you help us find our camp?”

“There is one right up there with some five tent.”

“Oh, that must be our camp. Could you show us the way.”

“Wait right there, I will come there.”

And thus he came to fetch us and guided us to our new camp. It was quite a distance uphill from where we were and the stranger didn’t mind walking all the way away from where he was headed. He was the first Layap I came in touch with and the first impression was remarkable.
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Laya Journal- The Last Lap to Laya

‘One day you won’t be able to do this, but today is not that day’

The morning weather was still bad but the news we received was good. Our five member team in Ponjothang has managed to get 15 horses. It was then I wondered how they must have spent their night in that muddy stretch of road. They later told us that they managed to slip into a tent-hostel prepared for the racers who would be spending their first night there.

O' talking about the race, four members from our team had stayed back in Gasa to take part in the Snowman Run. Unlike us they would be beginning the journey from Gasa Tshachu and run the entire stretch of muddy road we had covered in truck. While I had always feared if I would be able to trek to Laya these were the people who decided to run to Laya. God. Later in Laya we would learn that the winners had cover the entire distance in little more than four hours, which I took nearly sixteen hours. How did they do that?

From Koina it was a steep ascend but the track was fairly good compared to the stretch below Ponjothang where even the horses sunk half their body in sludge. Trekking wasn’t as social as I imagined, we couldn’t walk in group and chat; each had to maintain their own pace and it was a lonely affair. My heartbeat was the loudest sound I could as I inched my way up the hill, often thinking if I should wait a while for the person behind me. Then the internal dialogue began, I was in conversation with myself. Reviewing my life and debating over issues, big and small. Settling matters I had at hand, negotiating with myself and forgiving people, feeling grateful and even composing songs. Ok so that was the reason people go on trekking, to catch up with their inner selves.

When the board meeting within me had started I was lighter on my feet. I frequently had to take breaks from my inner meeting to greet young Layaps descending down to Gasa to take part in the Snowman Run. Looking at the way their feet were negotiating with the mountain trail I knew this race was theirs.

Upon reaching the final curve, from where I could see the Mo-Chhu river down below, the path gradually descended along the hillside. The view from that point was spectacular on the north and the south, stretching endlessly. Across the river it was all gigantic mountains shaped and colored so differently from anything I had seen before. The path was almost running parallel with the river, which could not be heard yet. Gradually I could hear the river, and then the path ran alongside it.

After recurring ups and down between the hill and river the path opened to a surprisingly wide riverbank. I suddenly felt refreshed and ready to undress myself on the Himalayan beach. Some of my team members who left ahead of me were waiting there, perhaps to share the same thrill they got upon seeing the place. We shared cold drinks and fruits and some of them took smoke break while we waited for the others.

There was a bridge across to the other side and within a hundred meters another bridge brought us back on the same side of the river. Dasho Sangay shared that these two bridges had saved us an extra one-hour trek over the steep mountain. He said this was a luxury Layaps could enjoy briefly during winters and this time it was only possible because of soldiers. Anyway, for horses and horsemen they still had to take that unforgiving detour because the bridge wasn’t suitable for horses.

With my motivation Menda and the mother of motivation Chimi

On my return journey I learned that Aue Nedup of Clean Bhutan, who left few days ahead of us, hadn’t known about the bridges and took the long way across the mountain along with his injured friends who had to be partially carried. O God.

At 40 km point there was a makeshift canteen that served us lunch. We had to decide weather to fuel up here or continue another hour to Tashemakha. By now we stopped trusting locals when it came to distance and time, they would say an hour and we land up taking over four. Before our lunch was served NC Chairperson Sonam Kinga and team arrived. They had begun from Gasa this morning and walked all the way from Ponjothang yet they caught us. I felt disappointed with my speed. As if this wasn’t enough his team left us behind from there. Dasho Sangay excitedly joined his chairperson who said ‘the house moves together’.

Our team from Ponjothang arrived with the horses. My friend Dorji was carrying a bag bigger than himself. He told me that the luggage filled with sleeping bags we had left in Koina couldn’t be adjusted on the horses therefore he had to be the extra horse. I felt bad but I was helpless. To his credit he made it to Laya without a complaint.




The horseman looked familiar to me. I recalled he stopped by at Koina guesthouse last evening. When we requested him to pick up our load from Ponjothang he showed us a chit wherein he was directed to pick up Dzongkhag load. He had no clue about the content in the chit. In desperation I even conspired to change the content of the chit but didn’t actually do it. But now I was wondering who actually changed it? Or could it be that there was not load from Dzongkhag so our team got him? I forgot to ask. I never found out.

Tashemakha was a military base pitched on a low plateau. The place was actually called Tashethang. From there we could see our destination high up on the mountain like a diamond in the sky. While the beauty of the mountain was so inviting the distance was mentally exhausting. The man in makeshift canteen told us that it was just an hour more from here. I knew it meant another four hours, and I was right at my speed it took so much.

The inspiring banner and the inspiring people

Gasa Dzongda must have foreseen that anyone could feel like I did at this point in journey so he had put up a banner here that read, “One day you won’t be able to do this, but today is not that day.” I read it loud and felt it deep. It worked like a dose of steroid in my nerves. We regrouped once for the last time only to be scattered gradually by our pace. Our horses and chef had left us too. Good for us because it meant our tents and food would be ready when we reach up.

The Last Lap to Laya, the destination is hidden among the clouds

That last lap was the most agonizing with our muscles stiffening and the air thinning. I took rest in every ten steps or less. When I saw the historical gate to Laya I fell on my knees. I knew I made it. Just then my team member Ching Ching came running down towards me. She said there was someone on the road, probably drunk. It was Jigme our chef. There went our food! He said something strange happened to him and we blamed his countless bottles. He showed us his bottle, still full, and said he wasn’t drunk. He said the spirits affected him. We half-believed him. He had however delivered his bag with a local friend and even asked to serve us tea and help in preparing our meals.

From the gate to the village was yet another struggle by then the darkness had set in. It was hard to envisage that a village so vast, stretching out across the hill could possibly exist. I couldn’t wait for the morning to see the sheer beauty of this place. But for now where was our camp? The third house called us in for tea. It was Jigme’s loyal friend. We declined knowing that we were so close to our camp. We headed for the huge campsite in the field only to find that it wasn’t ours.

For sometime two of us were lost in Laya. We didn’t have an address to seek direction and no one knew about our team. As we lingered in the dark we heard someone calling out Ching Ching. There we found our campsite. Our tents were still on the ground and Penjor was struggling to set them up. He was the only person other than Aue Karma, who was yet to arrive, who knew how to do it. The horses soon brought down the kitchen tent that he had worked on first. The two of them who had arrived with Penjor were sent back to look for us and the remaining who were still coming. When they returned with the rest of team they thought we didn’t make it. We actually made a wrong entry to the village to be found by the search party.

The kitchen team, even without the chief chef, was quick. After the dinner I went straight into my tent and wrapped myself in the sleeping bag. I didn’t have energy for mischief and even whisky didn’t taste good.

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Laya Journal- Rest Like Zhabdrung in Koina

Our team leader had to take a decision; to wait for horses with the entire team or go ahead of our load. If we had the strength to make it straight to Laya then going ahead won’t be a problem because we would get some sort of shelter and food for the night but if we land up somewhere between nowhere we would be in trouble without tents and ration.

There was no cellular network in the area. (Of course we were told later that there was a small patch of land close by where the non-smart phone could receive network). There was no guarantee the horses would come, and even if horses did come they weren’t like taxi to make endless trips. Animals would need rest.

Five from our team stayed back to wait for the horses and rest of us began our journey. I was separated once more from my two staff. In little more than two rainy hours we reached Koina. This was said to be the place where Zhabdrung took rest during his long flight from Tibet in 1616 and therefore it was named Koina, derived from Ku-nyel-na. The place had a guesthouse for travellers. It was merely a shelter with three empty rooms. Retired army Tenzin and his family who ran the canteen occupied the fourth and fifth rooms.

Leki was the logistical official at Koina for this festival period. He welcomed us with tea and backed it up with a much-needed lunch. It was still early in the afternoon though the overcast weather made it seem very late and it was still possible to make it to Laya or somewhere closer but without any form of communication with our team in Ponjothang we couldn’t risk leaving the shelter in Koina and Leki’s hospitality.

Leki offered us an empty room to crash in for the night in case we had to. We spend the whole afternoon talking about everything like in good old times. We literally relived the legacy of Zhabdrung by taking the longest rest in Koina. People who were there before us left before we finished settling down and others who came after us took brief tea breaks and carried on.

Dasho Sangay talking to Soldiers in Koina Guesthouse

We had all the time for ourselves with nothing to distract us from telling stories of our lives that would otherwise never be told in smartphone era. While we were digging out our memories and laughing endlessly our team leader received the message that he dreaded. There won’t be any horses for the day to bring back our load. But before our smiles faded he announced that Chef Jigme and Artist Dorji from our team in Koina had volunteered to go back to Ponjothang and get us our sleeping bags. I was simply awed by the compassionate courage of these two men to walk back the whole stretch and return with our sleeping bags. I couldn’t thank them enough for the giving us the beautiful night in Koina.

Among the many who came inside the Koina guesthouse that day after us only Dasho Sangay Khandu decided to stay back with us. His entry was the beginning of the next episode of our night in Koina. Taking advantage of our friendship I complained about the road conditions to his Gasa. He said he could only ask for it like the rest us and that it was Lyonpo Damchoe I should complain to. He however said that the having that mere road in itself was a blessing Gasa could enjoy only recently. Gasa had to endured with minimum development because it had been a Dungkhag under Punakha Dzongkha for a long time.

Upon asked how Gasa could even dare to host a festival of this magnitude without having so many basic logistic in place, he said that an able leadership would have the foresight to see order in chaos. While it also seemed like a nice justification to our innate complacency but the words went echoing in my head for a long time. And it made perfect sense to me when I finally saw the magnificence of the festival later in Laya.

Good Night's Sleep in Koina

If it weren’t for that night I wouldn’t know that we still could spend hours at end talking with fellow human beings. If we were dots, our stories were lines connecting them and at the end we were all interconnected. Even our retired solider host wasn’t left out; he confessed he was among the group of soldiers who bashed up Dasho Sangay and Chimi Zom’s mate in Sherbutse. To add special effects to our tales there was continuous supply of beer at much cheaper price than any club in Thimphu. One thing was confirmed, unlike road and mobile network, beer was everywhere. Learn from beer!

No experienced traveller would stay up so late and drink like we did ahead of a long journey but I further proved how big an amateur I was by continuing my night with Leki. Two of us became the voice in the silence of the dark night. Often we could hear giggles muffled in thick sleeping bags indicating some of our roommates were listening to our conversation while still pretending to sleep.When I finally got into my sleeping bag I felt so lonely. The silence in the room was deafening so I said a few lines of humor to check if they were really asleep only to find that all of them were trying hard to sleep. Except for little Menda the rest jumped back in conversation while I quietly slipped away into my dreams. From deep inside my sleep I could hear them curse me for disturbing them.

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Laya Journal- Waking Up in Gasa

October 13, 2016

I woke up early to feast on the magnificence of Gasa. Doctor’s quarter was perfectly located below the Dzong facing the overwhelming mountains. The moment I came out of the door I was face to face with the stunning mountains. The peaks of every mountain looked as if the naughty children of gods playfully handcrafted them.

The next thing I wanted to open my morning eyes to was the Dzong. I had always seen it in pictures, standing against a formidable snowcapped mountain. But to my dismay it wasn’t there. The utse of the Dzong was under renovation and without it, it didn’t quite look like Gasa Dzong.

After a quick breakfast in the same restaurant we had dinner in last night we climbed up to the parking lot near Dzongda’s quarter. The town was no bigger than a small village with single storied wooden huts. Even the bank was housed in one of those fragile structures.




In the parking lot we found out that the road to Ponjothang was too bad for Bolero Campers we intended to take. The only way to get there was in the two military trucks. The parking lot was filled with people who were equally lost and all eyes were on the two trucks. We even heard that our horses were ‘hijacked’ by some teams who went ahead of us, which was a nightmare because we had enough loads for at least 15 horses.





When the military trucks readied for the journey people rushed like herd of wild cattle, each trying to get ahead of the other. Our loads were lying on the road, we were left looking at each other’s faces. There was a big empty space inside the truck but the back entrance was already cramped with people who wouldn’t give us way. These were people from Thimphu known for being so nice in good times. If only they knew that we all must get to Laya anyway.

Utterly disgusted I climbed up on the truck with some force and asked my team to pass in the bags. One by one most of our bag were adjusted but it wasn’t without some resistance from the herd. 

The Third Truck

Third truck appeared in the parking lot. It was a non-military one that won’t make it till Ponjothang but we had to take the chance. It filled up easily and I was in the company of some of my teammates and some other good friends. I thought it was going to be like a nice ride on the back of truck. But the moment truck moved we were displaced from on side to another and everyone bounced in some random pattern. The floor of the truck was a pool of mud and we were careful not to get muddy but after a while we gave up. We were like popcorns in a frying pan; all those branded bags, pants and boots were covered in sticky mud.

Tashi Namgay Kidney being careful

The Rough Ride

Our truck refused to climb somewhere on a steep uphill climb and that was it. The two military trucks waved at us. We dismounted and started walking. Two friends stayed back to with the bags, hoping the military trucks would come back for us. We met a Bolero Camper returning from Ponjothang. How did it make it there? Who said it was impossible? Ok there was no time to repent because we had to request the man to pick up our bags. It was quite a feat to persuade him. When he came back with our bags we jumped in as well and on the way up we witness how his beloved pickup suffered all sorts of damage from the harsh road. Despite everything the man asked for just Nu.1500. Aue Karma T just couldn’t help adding Nu.1000 more for humanity’s sake. 

Dumped on the middle of Nowhere! 

Walking the gap with my team leader Aue Karma T and Aue Sonam (ABTO)

Ponjothang was not a settlement as I envisioned it was just point on the road beyond which the truck couldn’t go. There was a tent serving as makeshift canteen where we could eat for free by showing our official card. For now more than lunch we needed horses and there was none. They told us that it all messed up after 120 horses left for Lunana. Nonetheless they comforted us by assuring that the ones in Laya would be on their way back.

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Laya Journal- Long Road to Gasa

The weather hadn’t been good all week and frequent news of bad road condition worried us. On 12th October morning the sky faked a brief sunshine. We took it as a good sign. Our four cars were loaded with bags and people equally. My two friends Che Dorji and Dorji Phuntsho got into the Bolero Camper that was loaded with camping equipment and ration. I didn’t see them until later at night in Gasa. They made it to Gasa three good hours ahead of us.

I was in a car with three talented gentlemen; Dorji was an artist, Sangay was a musician and Dr. Tenzin whom I knew for a long time was a dentist, dancer, social worker and a good human being. But after Dochula even these three extraordinary companions couldn’t keep me awake because I had seen this stretch of road a thousand times. I wanted to save my wakefulness for the road from Punakha to Gasa, which was a road-not-taken for me.

 

With Trekker 360 in Thimphu

We stopped for lunch in Khuruthang and I was all prepared to enjoy my maiden journey to Gasa. Road to Gasa began all bumpy and miserly squeezed in between steep hill and the roaring Mo-Chhu, with nothing much to see on either side. I waited for some time to see if there was anything else to see besides the raging river but the road continued that way forever. I tried to go back to sleep only to be woken by frequent stops at roadblocks. We could see fresh landslides but thanks to the many dozers deployed to handle the situation across the stretch of the road.

The road didn’t at all seem favorable for Gasa to dare such an event, not even on a normal day. Hundreds of people had to travel on the road that was a ticking time bomb. It was miracle that nothing bad happened. Perhaps this was to let Thimphu feel the pain of Gasa.

We reached Gasa in the darkness of the night. The farmhouse the team had booked was all lite and waiting for us with steaming tea and dinner. Che Dorji had already arranged three of us to put up at his friend’s, who was a doctor in Gasa. Dr. Wangchuk had come to pick his three guests and he knew where exactly to take us for dinner and drinks. Gasa was so alive that night with more people and cars than it ever saw.

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Laya Journal- Excitement in Thimphu

Laya is a beautiful place everyone heard about and most are guilty of not having visited it. It's just there within our reach but many of us have just managed to visit it in the pages of magazines. In few years road is going to reach Laya, and then there is going to be more cars than yaks. Then Laya will be just another place.

Gasa Dzongda, Dasho Dradul briefing BTO team in our office

In August I received a mail from Gasa Dzongda asking my office, Bhutan Toilet Org to take part in Royal Highland festival in Laya. The festival was going to bring in huge number of people to the pristine mountains and the last thing Dasho wanted people to leave behind was their crap all over the mountainside, therefore we were invited.

Preparing for Laya

It was therefore an official invitation to travel to a dream destination. My toilets have taken me to so many places and Laya was literally the icing on the top of the list. But Laya was a beautiful girl protected by deadly father of a journey. My confidence faded at the thought of the arduous journey. I haven't tested my trekking ability in years. The last thing I wanted to be was an extra baggage on my team members.

Checklist

It was 10-year-old Menda who motivated me without saying a word. She had already done Jomolhari trek with her parents and now she was joining us to Laya. I was like a child telling myself, “If this little girl can do it, I should be able to.” It helped.

But soon I had to worry about the travel expenses and logistics. It was again Menda's parents who rescued us. Aue Karma T and Chimi Zom included us in his Trekker 360 team and took the burden of worrying about everything for us. This pro trekking team was scheduled to do Dagala trek this time but when Laya made its calling they changed their mind easily. It was blessing for us. My three-member team only had to report with our stuff in Dorji Elements’ parking lot on 12th October morning. That's it.

NEXT  (Long Road to Gasa)

Civil Society Organizations- Fragments of The King's Dream

The following article was written for The Bhutanese's special issues dedicated to the 10th Anniversary of His Majesty's reign. It was published on 9-12-2016. A week later on the 109th National Day in Trongsa 23 CSOs were awarded National Order of Merit (Gold). 

Read the same article below.

At the World Toilet Summit 2016 in Malaysia members of toilet associations of different countries took to stage and shared great stories about their works but one tragic twist in all their stories was the lack of support from the leadership of their countries. They were yet to convince their leaders on the significance of what they were doing. They were fighting to get their leaders’ attention to their cause.

I was to speak in the afternoon of the second day of the summit. By then people had heard enough toilet stories to have any more appetite. Attending the summit for the first time that was the best slot I could get. But I have enjoyed so much attention in two days just by being in gho. Even before I went to stage hundreds of people took pictures of me or with me. They called me Mr. Bhutan Toilet.

When I finally went to stage that lethargic afternoon I could see that I had all eyes because of my dress. I soon projected the photograph of His Majesty and me on the giant screens across the hall and told them stories of how I have the blessing of my king on what I do. When I told them that His Majesty the King gave me the title ‘Chablop’- The Toilet Teacher, I heard the loudest round of applause in that hall. That made me the only country representative at the summit who, with a little guilt of having to contradict with the rest in the house, spoke proudly about having the support of the King of his country.

When elsewhere in the world Civil Society Organizations fight for benefactions from their countries’ leadership here in Bhutan our leadership inspires people to take up social works. In 2015, during the Royal Bhutan Flower Exhibition in Paro His Majesty said, “Where we live must be clean, safe, organized and beautiful, for national pride, national integrity, and for our bright future. This too is Nation building.”

I was then experimenting with Bhutan Toilet Org as an online campaign but that royal message seemed to me like a personal command. I immediately began working on making toilets across the country ‘clean, safe, organized and beautiful’ and that was the beginning of this long journey I have started.

Who wouldn’t desire for an audience with His Majesty the King, but when His Majesty summoned me during Paro Tshechu I was least expecting it. I knew I didn’t deserve it yet. What I didn’t know was I was summoned to be blessed, to be inspired and to be guided for the long journey ahead of me.

I still have vivid memory of that auspicious moment. Dasho Zimpon made me wait on the bridge. I was the only person kept on the bridge and the next person I would see was His Majesty. I could see thousands of people on both ends of the bridge waiting to get a glimpse of His Majesty. I was frozen. I didn’t move an inch even though no one was watching.

Then came the moment, I couldn’t look up directly but I could make out from the radiance that His Majesty had come. I bowed down to pay my respect and froze back to stillness. His Majesty right away congratulated me on my team’s work during the Tshechu and told me to walk alongside him across the bridge.

I had crossed that bridge thousand times in my life but even in my most beautiful dream I haven’t seen myself walking with His Majesty the King and talking about the work I am so passionate about. I shared Bhutan Toilet Org’s Roadmap and the challenges faced in maintaining public toilets. His Majesty talked about the importance of behavioural change in making our efforts sustainable. The bridge seemed so short that day, at the other end of the bridge His Majesty stopped and shared stories of toilet issues in our country and how thing are in other countries. He blessed me with his guidance and assurance of royal support henceforth. Everything seemed so possible suddenly.

To make this priceless moment live with me forever His Majesty granted a Kupar with me with the permission to share it on social media. It was as if he knew I would need this to remain motivated each day and to influence people around me.

I couldn’t quite convince my mother to appreciate my new work after I left teaching until I sent her my picture with His Majesty. It worked magic with her. She finally began to accept and appreciate my work.

Few months later I received Royal Command to participate in the Royal Bhutan Flower Exhibition. It was only during the last Flower Exhibition that I was inspired work with toilets and now I was going to setup toilets at the event, it was too good to be true. It was granting the biggest platform to showcase ourselves and we took it up with challenge and with great pride.

During the closing ceremony of the exhibition His Majesty made special mention of Clean Bhutan, and Bhutan Toilet Org and it was then that I was granted the title ‘Chablop’. It suddenly made me feel like I was doing a prestigious job. Thereon, it made us glorify the act of cleaning toilets; it felt like an art. We never had a problem looking for volunteers to help us.

Just last month, during the Royal Highland Festival in Laya, I had the fortune of meeting His Majesty again and this time it was right next to the toilets we set up. The first question came as a compliment to our team, “How do you manage to keep the toilet odorless?” We were surprised that His Majesty knew about our knockdown toilets that were travelling places during events. For the King to know about every little effort you make was the highest reward we could ever dream of.

Later at the end of festival, during Civil Society Organizations’ audience with His Majesty I knew how he has been instrumental in the formation of every organization and how they were guided by his vision. It was like we were gifted fragments of his dream with his blessings.

#MyWorkplaceToilet- Do you have access to clean toilet at work?

Lately we have been talking a lot about the horrific condition of our public toilets, now lets talk about toilets in our workplaces. Let me begin with mine; Bhutan Toilet Org office share one unit toilet with our neighbouring office. Five men and two ladies use it. It has running water, working flush, toilet paper, waste bin. What we don't have is stain on tiles, bad smell and wet floor. Oh yes, we don't have wash basin (-1 point). In short our toilet is like the ones you find in three star hotels. Thank you.

How do you manage to keep a three star hotel like toilet in a warehouse like office? Well, thanks to our landlord for building a good structure. They didn't build the toilet as an afterthought. And thanks to us for being the first tenant because good toilet needs good users from the beginning. Maintaining broken toilet is a difficult job. As for daily cleanliness we have the following toilet cleaning roster;

1. Monday: Jigme Nidup Gyeltshen, Program Assistant
2. Tuesday: Tshering Nidup, Program Officer
3. Wednesday: Dorji Phuntsho, Finanace Officer 
4. Thursday: Passang Tshering, Executive Director 
5. Friday: Che Dorji, Communication Officer 
6. Toilet Paper In-charge: Tshering Choden, Executive Secretary, Rotary Club of Thimphu

Actually it's that simple. Now, is it the same in other workplaces? Well, you see most offices have good toilet in the boss's chamber, and the boss doesn't even know where the employees' toilet is. He can only smell it, but his nose is mostly running. Employees blame the cleaner and the cleaner feels people are overreacting. This is the story of most government offices.

Think about the hundreds of construction workers and the mechanics in automobile workshops, do they have access to clean toilets? Even a sorry excuse of a toilet? I often wonder where the people working in hydropower project tunnels do their big business. Of course they are in the tunnel but that's their workplace too. 

First, employers are ignorant that access to clean toilet is a basic human right (perhaps even employees too are ignorant that it's their right to demand) and second, they don't realise that toilet in the workplace could increase productivity. The time wasted by employees in looking for a safe corner to defecate and the sick leave employees take due to illnesses caused by lack of sanitation could be translated into meaningful work if there is easy access to clean toilet in the workplace. 

This year World Toilet Day theme is 'Toilets and Jobs' and in Bhutan we are observing the day by joining the cleaners at Jigme Dorji Wangchuk National Referral Hospital (JDWNRH) to see how a day in their life feels like. Our little cousin Dr. Toilet is partnering with Bhutan Toilet Org to clean up all the toilets in the hospital on November 19, 2016. 49 medical students from RIHS are volunteering with us on the day. 

And for those of you who can't be with us physically, show us your support by sharing pictures of your workplace toilet (with hash tag #Myworkplacetoilet) on our event page. 

To understand how Toilets play a crucial role in creating a strong economy, as well as improving health and protecting people’s safety and dignity, read more on World Toilet Day blog.

Dechen, New Beginning

In April I shared a story of a lost girl called Dechen. I called her lost girl because her father never found her. Perhaps he never came looking for her. Barely 9, it was Dechen who went looking for her father who abandoned her after the demise of her mother. She parted with her brother too. She couldn't find them. But she found many families who wanted to keep her as their babysitter. At the end of her futile search she finally landed up with a family that took her to a village in Paro where she spent the over six years.

After discovering the whereabout of her uncle in Thimphu she left Paro. The joy of finding her blood relatives soon faded in the babysitting tug-of-war. She got herself into a construction job and married a co-worker to have a family of her own. She thought that would be the beginning of a good life but the young couple lost their first child and her husband lost his job after returning from his study leave. They took a loan from a friend and it haunted them every month. Dechen just earned enough to pay the monthly interest of 10% while the principle amount of Nu.43,000 kept them sleepless.

That was when I wrote her story in an attempt to find her brother and seek help from kind individuals to free the young couple from the debt. We vaguely heard that her brother was in Mongar but couldn't establish any communication with him. After I published that article I had to meet a member of her 'Paro family' who wasn't so happy. But I explained to them that I was not interested in starting what could be a very ugly legal battle.

I received a few messages from people willing to help Dechen so I called her debtor and tried negotiating with them. By then Nu.41,000 was already paid in interest and they stilled demanded full principle of Nu.43,000. I explained how 10% per month was insane, because legally allowed interest rate can't be more than 15% per annum while theirs came to 120% per annum. I begged them to humanly consider the couple's plight. I offered to pay Nu.30,000 to close the chapter because I got some people to offer that help. The debtor rejected the offer.

Then I asked the ruthless loanshark to take the matter to the court. They, like all loansharks, confidently accepted that because they have all the paperworks to eyewash even the court of law. We lost the case in Dzongkhag court. We couldn't prove to the court that it was a loan taken at 10% per month. We went to High Court and we still lost the case. I knew we would lose because the smart loanshark had all the tools to fool the court. Despite knowing that we still went ahead only to buy us time. I needed time to look for help.

For the last five months I have kept updating on the court proceeding to a Bhutanese lady well-wisher, by the name Tshering Choden, living in New York who offered to help Dechen right from the beginning. And I wrote to my friend Ugay Wangmo also working in New York to help. When the final verdict came I informed Tshering Choden and she offered to send Nu.12,000. Her cousin and husband came to my place to drop the money and meet Dechen and her husband.

My friend Ugay Wangmo immediately started fundraising among her friends in NY, like she always did and sent me Nu.22,100.

Yesterday, 26th September 2016, Dechen's husband handed over Nu.34,500 to their debtors in the presence of court officials and close the chapter to two years of sleeplessness.

I wish to thank Tshering Choden for being their from the beginning and giving me confidence, without your assurance we could have never dare to go to the court. Dechen and her husband are so grateful to you. I have shown your picture to them. Thank you.

I wish to thank my dear friend Ugay Wangmo for being my saviour for countless number of times. Dechen and her husband will always remember you for your kindness. They send their prayers to you and your friends Quen Tsho, Star Lhamo, Finso Om, Phub Gyem, Tshering Dolkar and Tshering Pem for giving them a new beginning. Thank you.

Ugay's fundraising Sheet

Dechen's Husband formally joined Bhutan Toilet Org after months of internship.

*I want to thank my wife for pushing me every day to get this done. I wish you peaceful sleep too now.

Why Bhutanese Hide Their Toilets?

In November 2015 over three hundred volunteers helped Bhutan Toilet Org clean all urban public toilets in the country. On the World Toilet Day we put up a modest photo exhibition at the Clock Tower Square in Thimphu to showcase the state of our public toilets. The pictures were organised district-wise and the name of the Dzongkhags were printed in bold.

As intended people who visited our exhibition went first to their Dzongkhag corner and the most common remark we noted was, "I didn't know there was a public toilet there." Of course they didn't regret their ignorance after seeing the disgusting pictures. Among the visitors were the members of parliament, who actually came for another event there but nonetheless paid us a courtesy visit. I took lot of joy in showing them their constituency toilets. Interestingly most MPs didn't know about the existence of public toilet in their constituencies.

That's the level of success we have achieved in hiding our toilets. We are like squirrels who hide acorns and never find them. In Thimphu there are over a dozen public toilets and if you can find five of them you are Terton. In Bajothang there is a public toilet that's never used because no one knew about it. In Trongsa there are three toilets you will never find. In Tsirang and Haa have a public toilet each that are covered in overgrowth. In Bumthang even if you found the toilet you won't find the toilet pot. The story is no better with other Dzongkhags.

In one year we have put all the toilets on the map, at least for the locals but we couldn't do anything about the location. There is no way we can relocate them. But started wondering why our toilets were hidden.

The answer came to us as we began building and managing toilets during public events. The organisers would give us locations where no one can find us. Because they 'know' toilet will be dirty and therefore the act of hiding the toilet is a good-intentioned precaution. 

Continued in August 2021:

The misconception that a toilet will be dirty no-matter-what and therefore it's best to hide them is in a way surrendering to an ancient mindset without a fight. Quite true to this perception, not only are the most hidden toilets left insanly dirty but also vandalized. It will be interesting to do a research to find out dirty toilet casuse the planners to hide them or if the hiding caused the toilets to be dirty and vandalised. It's quite like the chicken and egg story. 

Monsoon Lessons

Now that the monsoon has passed and things are gradually falling in place, it’s time to look back and reflect. John Dewey said, ‘we do not learn from experience, we learn from reflecting on experience.’ 

Last month we saw what could be easily called the worst monsoon in many years. Sarpang town was wiped from the face of the earth. Two southern towns of Gelephu and Phuntsholing spent many sleepless nights. Samtse lost a critical bridge. Road network across the country was disrupted. Our country suffered huge losses in damages.

But in these bad times we saw the most heartwarming responses from our men in uniform across the country volunteering in rescue efforts. We saw them putting public safety ahead of their own. In them we saw heroes we could always rely on in times of need.

In the middle of confusion in the south, where the fury of nature had left everyone helpless we saw the selfless leadership of our King and the Prime Minister. The kind of leadership the rest of the world could only pray for.

Pic: His Majesty's Official Page

However, far away from the affected areas, here in the capital city we saw the other side our people, the not-so-good side. With road connection to the south blocked at several points, assumptions of fuel shortage created havoc. Avalanches of cars rushing at the fuel pumps to hoard fuel.

The endless queue of cars only showed how embarrassingly selfish we could become in the face of disaster. Everyone wanted their own tanks to be filled, disregarding the need of the fellow citizens. No one seemed to think that if our country at all suffered from fuel crisis we were all in it together.

Pic: The Bhutanese Facebook Page

Despite the comforting official announcement against the problem the ugly rush continued at all depots for days. We believed more in the hoax. Of course what more can we expect from the population that once believed in the salt shortage rumor? Some families may not have finished the salt they selfishly hoarded that day in 2013.

Besides the fuel hoarding, we also heard stories of taxi drivers overcharging desperate travellers and we saw local vegetable vendors doubling the price of their produce in the absence of competition from imported vegetable. These are some qualities that make us not Bhutanese.

We Bhutanese are by nature harmonious social beings. That makes us stand out in the big blue world despite our smallness. But why do we act like some ghosts possessed us in times like this? Why do we become so selfish suddenly?

Now that the roads are cleared as promised and that we didn’t run out of fuel, what have we learned? Even if we weren’t in queue at the fuel pump, or had anything to do with the opportunist vegetable vendors and taxi drivers we are all equally guilty in this. Remember what Albert Einstein said,

‘The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it.’

This article is published in Business Bhutan on 6th August 2016