The Gelephu Mindfulness City is off the ground. For a small country, it is an ambitious project that will pose the apparent challenges of money, men and machines. However, the bigger and less obvious challenge would be giving the city a character and a soul, because it is only when a place has a personality of its own, that it would attract the people and prosperity.
More importantly, the physical infrastructure we eventually raise will in turn shape us – our habits, mood, sense of reality, and perspectives. To quote one of my professors in the engineering college back in Italy, “We build the place, and then the place builds us.”
If Gelephu is to truly become a great mindfulness city, then the physical structure we plan and build must incorporate the values and attributes of mindfulness, compassion, and community, and, even the core principles of interconnectedness and impermanence. Likewise, the governance and the social environment must also reflect these attributes.
In this article I share two findings and concepts that emerged out of my PhD[1] dissertation: the concept of the sacred chronotope, and the phenomenon of the personification of the natural and the supernatural.
I premise my paper on the Buddhist perspectives[2] of time and space as a unified mental construct that arises and falls together through change and causation. They are inseparable and not independent concepts.
What is a sacred chronotope?
“Chronotope” means “time” (chronos) and “space” (topos). The concept was popularised by a nineteenth-century Russian philosopher, Mikhail Bakhtin, as a literary tool, where he argues that time and space are inextricably fused together in narratives and social contexts, in that a space is defined by the flow of history and plot, while time becomes visible within a physical setting. Space is time spatialised, and time is space temporalized. In other words, time and space intertwine and take on expressive meaning.
For example, if you stand on the bank of a river, you will see the rounded stones inside the water. It tells you of time frozen in a spatial form, because it would take not thousands but a million years for the water to grind the stones into a perfect spherical shape. Conversely, time is not an invisible or abstract concept. As you watch the movement of water from your feet to the horizon, the space covered expresses the passage of a few minutes of time.
In one of the chapters of my dissertation, I used the concept of chronotope to study a Buddhist ritual in a temple, and I coined the concept of sacred chronotope of a temple[3], where the ordinary concept of time suspends and “thickens” with spiritual meaning, and the space becomes charged with the presence of the divine and transported into a timeless world, which feels eternal and primordial.
Simply put, what happens when you enter a sacred place like a temple in Bhutan is that you feel the space as divine and time as eternal, and you are transported to a different dimension. Similar feelings have been shared by many foreigners when they fly into Paro. They feel that they have entered a different time-space configuration – as in some sort of out-of-the-world experience.
Sacred chronotope perspective in architecture
With regard to how we can translate the concept of sacred chronotope to the way we design the Gelephu Mindfulness City, firstly, we must aim for a landscape that bridges the material world with the eternal. The sacred chronotope in architecture would treat a building not as a static object, but as a dynamic network where form, memory, and duration unfold together.
Together with the physical structures there should be a vibrant socio-spiritual tradition of rituals, festivals, ceremonies and congregations, that works with all the five senses – sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste, and particularly the first three. For example, daily smoke offerings in every home and building could be reinforced, and prayer flags and chants could adorn the streets of Gelephu.
The spiritual centres must be a living monument by moving into active, community-driven popular hubs that stay relevant to modern human needs. These include initiatives like community kitchens, meditation and yoga classes, health and wellness clinics, physical centres for care and compassion, and even global initiatives like inter-faith dialogues, and humanitarian projects in the region.
Tashi Gomang Chorten as axis mundus.
The master plan of the Gelephu Mindfulness City has been done but not made public, and hence it is hard to provide any Buddhist perspective to the plan.
From the scant information seen in AI rendering in promotional videos, much of the design seems to follow the natural paths of the river, which is of course refreshing.
Another approach would be to take inspiration from a 2D mandala with axis mundus in the Dorden Tashi Gomang Chorten.
This approach is neither novel nor exclusively Buddhist. The original city of Rome was thought to be built upon a sacred pit known as mundus. The imperial city of Beijing, on the other hand, was planned so as to mirror the cosmic layout of the heavens because the emperor was believed to be the son of the heavens.
Alternatively, a virtual axis mundus can also be achieved by aligning all major spiritual centers towards the Tashi Gomang Chorten, which can act as a mother temple for the Gelephu Mindfulness City. At Tara Project, this was a conscious decision made by the patron and the team.
In conclusion, a city built along these spatial-temporal considerations will take the visitors to Gelephu into a different dimension, or a matrix of different time-space configurations. This would make the GMC stand out and be different from the megacities of Dubai or Singapore. We may be giving GMC a soul and character.
Anthropomorphism. The Personification of the Natural and the Supernatural.
Anthropomorphism refers to attributing human behaviours, and even emotions, to non-human entities like objects, nature, or deities. It has Greek roots, where ‘anthropos’ means ‘human’ and ‘morphe’ means ‘form’.
The culture of anthropomorphism is very strong among Bhutanese. I have coined this phenomenon as a personification of the natural and the supernatural[4]. For example, it is believed that statues of deities are “alive” after being consecrated; mountains are revered as bodhisattvas such as Meri Puensum of Haa, Memay Ralang, and Tshong Tshongma in Trashigang; and the statue of Vajrapani in Bartsham is believed to move around at night.
In a socio-psychological setting, the personification of the supernatural plays out when the Bhutanese—even the youth and children—consider their birth deities, such as Aap Genyen of Thimphu, Aap Rada of Wangdue, or Aap Chundu of Haa, as their family members. My daughter, who studies in Australia, makes a visit to Aap Genyen as the first thing she does when she comes home.
So, we can propagate Gelephu as the abode of Zambala/Chakrasamvara, or even as the deities themselves.
Secondly, anthropomorphism is adopted in architecture whereby buildings are assigned the human traits and given a character and a soul. For instance, the top of a dzong is believed to symbolize the crown or head. Such structures connect with us easily, and the buildings become warm and meaningful to us. This is the reason why we feel alive in some buildings and cold and creepy in others.
On the topic of anthropomorphism, I would also like the GMC to consider allowing large statues of deities out in the open.
I believe if we have statues like Buddha Dordernma in Gelephu, it would not only become a landmark and a tourist spot, but the personification of the natural and the supernatural will grow and sustain for all time to come. And this is very important even for our own survival as humanity.
A few years back I spoke at an international team of climate investors and activists. I told them that we cannot save the planet by using a paper straw to drink. We can only save our Mother Earth when we start having filial piety or kinship feelings towards the mountain, rivers, boulders, trees, and nature. We Bhutanese have that. Why not do everything to sustain it?
The Making of the Tara Retreat Centre.
To briefly share how these two concepts are coming at the Tara Retreat Centre project, first of all, everything from the designs to the programme that will be delivered at the centre will revolve around the key attributes of Mother Tara and her spiritual progenitor, Avalokiteshvara.
The facade of the main temple has a thousand small openings, which represent the thousand compassionate eyes. It is an example of architectural anthropomorphism, where we attempt to give the symbolic quality associated with the deity.
The centre will not have one door or one gate but four main entrances to invite sentient beings from all four cardinal directions. Programmes on motherly care, protection and compassion will be central to all the teachings and religious events at the Centre.
Second, the retreat houses will provide silent seclusion that we long for at times but will be within the campus to not let participants feel secluded or uncared for. And a large open field will be included for regular large prayer ceremonies and events to be hosted, while at other times residents of Gelephu will gather for picnics and family gatherings.
Third, the centre will follow the Chhi-Nang-Sang (Outer-Inner-Innermost) framework, where the outer will be the landscape and the architecture, and the inner will be the sacred relics. The ‘innermost’ component will be the delivery of the programme and the content for devotees to work towards spiritual self-actualisation, mental realisation, and physical wellness.
Above all, the main centrepiece will be Tara Zhingkoe – the celestial abode of Tara, built to a scale to evoke awe and surrender.
Let me end with a personal story[5]…
In 2010 I was part of the Royal Visit to Kolkata, where His Majesty received the Honorary Doctorate Degree in Law. The last time I had visited was in 1977, when Kolkata was called Calcutta.
During the royal visit between state dinners and lavish banquets and official meetings in Taj Hotel, I felt something was missing. This was not the Calcutta I had fond memories of with my father. So, one evening I sneaked out of the hotel and went into the streets. And there was my Calcutta of endless streams of people walking in every direction, extra loud music, traffic, bullock carts, and above all the smell, both foul and perfumed, which brought back the fondest of memories. That was the real Kolkata for me. The ones in Taj Hotel and Raj Bhavan were ‘curated Kolkata’, which I was not familiar with. It is not to say that I didn’t appreciate that too. I was deeply honoured to be a part of it, no doubt.
I share this story to put forward a very difficult proposition, and that is, the city we build must find the sweet spot between visitors finding authentic experiences of Bhutan and a curated one. When visitors come to Gelephu and to Bhutan they will come more for deeper experiences, and less for luxury and perfection.
Gelephu should be a place where people from any part of the world can withdraw and take refuge, even for a few days, from the stress and strains of the modern demands.
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[1] Wangchuk, Dorji. Of identity, spirituality, community, and the sacred chronotope in Bhutan. University of Macau, 2022.
[2] The Buddhist perspective of time posits it as not separate from space, regardless of whether the space is sacred or not. They are a unified mental construct that arises and falls together through change and causation and a singular and indivisible fabric of reality.
[2] Wangchuk, Dorji, and Todd L. Sandel. ““Listen to the Lama”: Analysing Bhutan’s digital media and online religious practices.” The Routledge Handbook of Language and Social Media around the World. Routledge, 2026. 499-512
[3] Wangchuk, Dorji, and Todd L. Sandel. ““Listen to the Lama”: Analysing Bhutan’s digital media and online religious practices.” The Routledge Handbook of Language and Social Media around the World. Routledge, 2026. 499-512.
[4] Wangchuk, Dorji. Of identity, spirituality, community, and the sacred chronotope in Bhutan. University of Macau, 2022.
[5] My story is on my blog. https://dorjiwangchuk.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-calcutta_03.html















