With the Thunder Dragon I

a regular sight in bhutan

Bhutan has been described as many things, from the scenic to the authoritarian. It has been made out to be the last “Shangri-La” in different representations by a cross-section of writers, commentators and film-makers. Those who are too taken by its natural beauty and splendour find it an “unspoiled kingdom” while others lament its lack of openness and freedoms given the overarching presence of Buddhist religious life. But this bind, we find, is a rather troubling one. Bhutan for us, replete in its beauty is also a land with its own complexities which cannot be simply wished away or be fossilised in a romantic antique frame. Let’s take one example of the diversity and difference that gets hidden in the romanticised narratives of Bhutan - Its languages and dialects are aplenty although the average version you’ll get is that all Bhutanese people speak Dzongkha. Languages like Lakha, Brokkat, Bumthangkha, Olekha, Chalikha, Tshangla and Brokpakhe and many others often get overlooked as Dzongkha is promoted as the national language.

The example of language is just one way in which we absorbed the overwhelming experience that is Bhutan. Our travels through Bhutan, from the Valley of Ha in the west all the way to its South Eastern borders, brought us face to face with many of the different realities in Bhutan. The valley of Ha is mostly a flat terrain irrigated by the Ha Chu River and it is here that one first realises that the broad assortment of deities in Bhutanese rural life stretches much beyond the formal and more visible Buddhist ones. One of the most famous deities in western Bhutan is the Jichu Drake, the resident deity of the massive mountain with the same name. A hike to Chele La will give anyone a spectacular view of the Jhomolhari and the Jichu Drake. Like most other great natural formations like rivers, aged trees and overgrown medicinal plants, mountains are often treated as local deities. In some cases, these deities and their singular mythical tales have been woven into the narrative of the rise in Buddhism in Tibet but in most others, they remain distinct in their presence within the stories of local village communities and sometimes even the whole valley.

prayer flags on the roadside

The rise of Buddhism in Bhutan in the last millennium is also a story of the gradual overpowering of local deities. Almost every other mythic tale that we encountered around Guru Rinpoche, the young monk said to have schooled at Nalanda and learnt his scriptures in Tibet and then brought Buddhism to Bhutan, is a tale of vanquishing undesirable local deities. Over time, Padmasambahava, as Rinpoche is ritually known, acquired a status that is second only to the Buddha in Bhutanese formal religion. Myths of different monks subduing diverse local deities who were always either too frivolous or unpredictable or unreliable lasted much beyond the Rinpoche stories themselves, as we carefully discovered, and are now part of the official narratives of Bhutan’s history. What was most heartening was that these stories of vanquished local deities did not entirely erase their presence. In terms of how fondly they are held in local cultures, we found many to be quite alive and present just like the formal Buddhist deities, although they are not as popular.

It is in Ha that we witnessed our first local archery tournament. The sport that most men play in Bhutan is also a catalyst for great social interaction. Two teams of thirteen players each battle over a strip of four hundred and sixty feet with each archer getting two shots per round. The teams had their own families and friends and other locals supporting them. The groups of supporters and fans often tried to sledge the other team and pass hilarious comments on missed shots and faulty postures of the members of the opposing team. Intermittent shows of local dances and the regular call of hawkers selling different snacks to the spectators entertained us thoroughly, a lovely distraction from the noise that accompanies cricket matches back home. Some of the dances are also ritualistic ones which are performed on other occasions for different spirits and deities.

an archery match in progress

To help you get a hang of the broad nomenclature, here is our small reference list – ‘Lu’ are mostly aquatic deities residing in the abundant water bodies in Bhutan, ‘Nyen’ are the deities of trees, ‘Tsen’ are the spirits of rocks and mountains and ‘Za’, the deities of different stars and planets. Together, they form a cosmology of faith that is quite complex. One small example of this complexity is the free flowing sexual humour associated with these archery tournaments. The wild and contagious laughter from both men and women that followed someone yelling at their favourite archer in the tournament - “Get that shot right or you will have many lonely nights in bed” – told us that all the religious symbolism around us didn’t quite create an atmosphere of formal tight-lipped reverence. The spirit of the ‘popular’ was well and alive in this case.

We hiked from there to the Taksang Dzong, otherwise called the Tiger’s nest, redone completely after it was burnt, most recently, in a fire in 1997. The hike up the hill slowly unfolds along the way, the spectacular beauty of this dzong, its dusty yellow and white facade shimmering atop a 3000 feet high cliff. Dzongs are like fortresses which also perform important religious functions. Each valley has its own dzong which is the central seat of most annual events. Festivals in Bhutan are placed around a yearly calendar, which depends on the date which the highest authority of monks in the Kagyu order, patronised by the state, decide to announce as the first date of the year. The other dominant order is the Nyingma order, which allows laypersons to perform rituals and is not as strongly hierarchical as the Kagyu Buddhists.

A jeep ride to the famous Punakha Dzong, standing atop the confluence of the scenic rivers Po Chu and Mo Chu, was our next plan. The oldest dzong in the country, this trip brought us face to face with the seat of Buddhist tradition in Bhutan for the last five centuries. The six storey tower dominates the skyline and within it holds massive golden statues of the Buddha, the Guru Rinpoche and the Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal, the ruler who built the Punakha dzong and assigned it as the winter capital of Bhutan. Its original sixteenth century structure has been modified over the years, the most notable one being the two cantilever bridges across the rivers leading to the Dzong. From the doors of the dzong, we walked barefoot to the edge of the waters and sat there for what seemed like hours. Time didn’t seem to catch up with the tide of the rivers at Punakha.

We left Punakha for the Trongsa dzong, another extremely intricate structure, knowing that we had just made half our way from the west of Bhutan towards its eastern borders. And as the green and blue became a speeding haze of colour against our car windows, Bhutan seemed much more familiar than when we had first set foot in Ha.

Elephants, Rhythms and a lot more

Our focus for this month’s newsletter is perhaps one of the most unique kinds of symbolic festivals in the country. It is also one of the most famous and well-attended ones. To give you a certain feel of what goes on in the three days when the festival is under way, here is a run-through of all that happens as the temple grounds come alive. The ‘pooram’ (festival of a Panchangama star in the Hindu calendar) at Thrissur is indeed an extraordinary occasion, one you wouldn’t want to miss if you are in Kerala around the beginning of May.

Ornate Elephants at the Thrissur Pooram

The most essential ingredient while the Thrissur pooram gets under way is the ringing sound that seems to arise from the earth – five instruments in tandem with each other to create a tremendous rhythm that reverberates throughout the milieu. The ‘Panchavadyam’ (five instruments) as it is literally termed, comprises of the Maddalam (leathered drum surfaces sewn onto a wooden body made out of a jackfruit log), the Elathalam (a pair of small bronze cymbals held in each hand), the Thimila (calf-skin leather drum surfaces sewed with twine onto an hour-glass shaped polished jackfruit body), the Idakka (smaller Thimila but with differences in pitch and resonance) and the Kombu (literally, a long curved horn). While the first four are percussion instruments, they are unnaturally held together musically by the Kombu, which is a wind instrument, that weaves melody into the beats. The performances begin and end with the Thimila which serves the bass notes.

These five instruments are amongst the several local instruments found in Kerala. Pallavur Raghava Pisharody, who is a renowned Elathalam player and Pallavur Appu Marar who is almost synonymous with the Idakka, are two examples of people who have turned singular percussion instruments into individual acts of music, much similar to the way the Tabla was performed by Ustad Alla Rakha. Jackfruit wood, locally known as Varikka Plaavu, is a common source of wood for these wind instruments as it allows for a raw strength to each note – something recognised and vouched for by the masters as well as the students of these art forms

At the Thrissur Pooram, the Panchavadyam plays for more than two hours in one recital. It reduces its tempo with the completion of every pendulum beat and is structured around five stages. Its history dates back to the beginning of the twentieth century as different masters of each of these instruments decided to come together for a recital using all the instruments. With royal patronage and the regular festivities at temples, the fusion found favour amongst the populace and today it is considered staple at the Poorams in the district and beyond.

The Thrissur Pooram is itself not that old. Arguably a couple of centuries into its existence, much of its fame is actually derived from the competitive spirit exhibited by the followers and troupes of the two divisions – the Paramekkavu (temples of the east) and the Thiruvambady (temples of the west) - that celebrate it. Raja Rama Varma’s geographical delineation of the ten temples he unified under ordinance has continued past his reign and is healthy today – as is evident from the amount of time and effort spent in decorating the elephant processions of the rival sides. The most beautifully decorated and ornamented elephants proceed from different temples towards the Vadakkunnathan temple (the common ‘observer’ temple between the competing sides) and line up before the gathering of devotees and visitors. These are some of the best elephants from the entire region, brought here after spending enormous amounts of money (both on the elephants as well as the decorations and the head-dress or nettipattam) in order to exhibit both pride and devotion – each as problematic as the other – in one great display that regales and excites.

Temple decorated for the night

What follows after the first set of rituals are over is the grand exchange of umbrellas (parasols fitted with colourful cloth) between the two sides. As the rituals draw to a close, the celebrations set in. Surrounding temples serve the prasadam before the preparations for the fireworks display are made. It is these fireworks displays that have added to the glamour of the event in recent times. The fireworks are elaborate and take a significant part of the preceding year to manufacture. Lasting for over five hours, the displays begin at an auspicious moment past midnight and continue on to the break of dawn. Different shapes and figures along with momentary sparkles of light across the sky draw people from the whole state for this very night. As people revel with all the delicacies available around the temple grounds, the night practically begins to feel like day.

The festival has come under scrutiny previously because of the child labour practices in the fireworks industry that feeds such celebrations and while scholars have argued over the feudal origins and practices surrounding some of the elements, there is indeed cause for concern for both devotees and visitors to this otherwise spectacular affair. So, while the festivities roll on every year and attract numerous patrons, it goes without saying that this festival should be a significant part of any itinerary for Kerala or indeed, southern India.