The Death Railway (the official name is Thai-Burma Railway) is a historic 415 km train line between Ban Pong in Thailand and Thanbyuzayat in Myanmar. It was built during World War II in 18 months by the Japanese Imperial Army to supply troops and weapons at the Burmese front that was pushing towards South Asia.
The word, Death, was a nickname that came from the fact that over 110,000 people, between civilians and prisoners of war, died building this railroad – mostly because of maltreatment, malnutrition or malaria.
The story is immortalised in the Academy-winning film, Bridge Over River Kwai, 1957, directed by David Lean with Alec Guinness in the lead. The bridge in question is still in use and is located at Kanchanaburi – some 100km west of Bangkok.
The Death Railway was destroyed by Allied bombing towards the end of the War, and today a short section between Bangkok and Nam Tok still runs nevertheless. It attracts locals, and historians and tourists alike. For many visitors it is pilgrimage to the grim reminder of human history, of atrocity and tragedy and the futility of war to resolve human problems.
Of late, the Death Railway and Kanchanaburi have become the site of reconcilliation where the deads are remembered and the heroes celebrated. Former foes come together to own the past mistakes and learn to build a better future free of such human tragedies.
There are two trains that run daily. The train is still driven by the old locomotive system and the station that it kicks off from is the Thonburi station on the west banks of Chao Phraya river. The train stops more than it moves, and passes over the historic bridge over Kwai at Kanchanaburi. It then snakes along the tracks carved out of the hills towards Myanmar border.
The ride is free for Thai people, while foreign visitors pay a flat 100 Bahts irrespective of which station you get off, or get on. The fare-paying visitors can have a dedicated carriage with better seats.
The section between Kanchanaburi and Nam Tok is the most interesting part.
I am because we are – so an Ubuntu philosophy goes on the ontological question of who am I. This identification of one’s personhood with the society is closer to us, Asians, than the classical statement, “I think, therefore I am” as enunciated by Rene Descartes – the 17th-century French philosopher.
In Bhutan, we also have the moelam, which is a concept similar to karma but with a greater human agency to make things happen, instead of the simplistic good-begets-good, which at times is a bit fatalistic. In Bhutan, we say that we are, and everything is as it is, because of our moelam.
The beauty of moelam is that you have the power to change its course. In fact, moelam means “aspiration path”. You can aspire for anything – both good and bad. (Check my blog post on moelam)
We thrive as a community. We survived as a community. In the early prehistoric times, our ancestors fought off wild animals that were bigger, stronger, faster, and taller simply because we worked in groups.
Modern technologies, such as planes, trains, the Internet and smartphones, have shrunk the world. In the words of Tom Friedman, the world is flat. We have multiple ways to connect and to stay connected. Yet, people feel disconnected, lost ,and isolated. In many countries suicides are on the rise, and mental health has become a public health issue.
So, it is heartwarming, and feels hopeful, when over 70 strangers converge in the jungles of Bali and in less than a week feel an instant connection to each other. This is the fourth time I have been witnessing this. It is not a one-time wonder.
Maybe all is not lost. Maybe we can feel alive, safe, connected, and loved and we can exude our best without the fear of being judged or misunderstood when we are in the right community.
Do you have such a community? If not, I invite you to move out from the current herd and find a new one because there will always be a group that will welcome you, love you unconditionally and let you be who you are.
Being in the right community, the right organisation, or the right company is important for one growth and potential. Just as no flower or plant will grow well in a bad environment, every human needs, and deserves, the right one to flourish.
And of course, if you can’t find one you can also build one.
I am back to Bali for the fourth time. And a thought struck me, what attracts me to Bali? Spoiler alert: it is not the beautiful beaches.
Bali is world-famous for its stunning beauty with its lush rice terraces flanked by cone-shaped volcanoes, which all exude peace and tranquillity. The colourful festivals and daily ritual connect people to the divine and the supernatural like no other place on Earth. The big ocean waves make Bali the surfers paradise.
Nonetheless, what really attracts visitors back again is none of the above. It is the ordinary people that are the biggest magnetising force of Bali. With their genuine, warm and welcoming attitude to outsiders, every visitor finds himself or herself feeling like a local, or as adopted into the family. I have mine too in Danu and Ketut, who own and run the Danu Guest House in Ubud.
In Bhutan, we often talk about our unique culture and unspoilt nature as the selling points. Yes, we have some colourful traditions. So do other countries – and each culture is unique in its own way. We have high Himalayan mountains, for sure. However, the peaks in Nepal are taller, while many in Switzerland are even more gorgeous. As for the unspoilt nature, tropical rainforests in our own neighbourhood are bigger and as pristine.
Then, what will make travels to Bhutan really memorable will be the people – the guide, hotel staff, locals in the streets and in the farms. It will be the spontaneity of our ordinary folks – the human element – and our genuineness. As the tourism industry undergoes fundamental transformation I hope the project leaders are not only focussed on the tourism industry itself, but the larger socio-cultural changes and traditions and any effect or impact from other sections on them.To get to the point, we should be careful of the mindless rules, myopic legislations, and knee-jerk public policies that are often implemented with little or no regard for the socio-cultural nuances. Any policy or regulations have wider socio-cultural effects than just addressing the problem they are aimed at. Sometimes they have a corroding impact on the very fabric of our society. For instance, the recent rule forbidding borrowing money was strange. In a community where we share everything, where we are encouraged to be altruistic, suddenly the rule forbids us from lending money to someone. The other rule, which has been now suspended but not repealed, is about the ban on feeding stray dogs. This is cruel and un-Buddhist to say the least. When did we become so heartless?
It is these small straws that will ultimately break the camel’s back. It is these things that our authorities should be watchful for – instead of being enamoured or enraged by a social media influencer or a blogger who speaks the truth.
We must never forget what is our collective essence – the narrative that makes Bhutan. It is the people – the real gem, as our King often told us in the national day addresses.
And so is Bali. The people are the undisputed gem. Whenever I have firmed up my dates for the Bali trip, Danu and Ketut are some of the first people I contact because I feel not only welcomed there but also loved and cared for. And then there is Shiwa Rudraksha from where I buy all my gifts of corals. And Mrs. Preme who runs a warung (dhaba). Plus all my Bali-planted friends from other countries like Dan, Lisa, Kristina, Robin and Scott.
Referred to as Chenrizig in Bhutanese and Avalokiteshvara in Sanskrit, this Thousand-Arms-Thousand-Eyes-Eleven-Face deity is my favorite because of a very beautiful background story.
Eons back, a man vowed to end the sufferings of all beings in the universe. He asked the divinities to make his head explode in case he failed in his mission or if he gave up.
As months turned into years and years into decades, he saw more suffering. He persisted, but more miseries appeared everywhere, and they only multiplied. The world got worse instead of getting better.
Totally exasperated by the hopelessness of his mission, he gave up. Almost instantly his head exploded, as he had wished, and he died.
All along, however, Buddha Amitabha was watching him. When he saw the man dying, he called a meeting of all the 33 divinities and told them that a person of such pure intention should not be let to die. He asked the divinities to donate their avatars (heads) and contribute their eyes and hands and bring him back to life and make him continue his mission. Buddha Amitabha lent his head. Ten other deities followed. Words went around, and demi-gods and even humans donated their hands and eyes.
As an ultimate reward for his purest intention, he became enlightened and was also admitted to the ranks of a divinity.
This is the story of Chenrizig Avalokiteshvara.
The wisdom. The message.
As we come into this world, some of us are endowed with many heads. For instance, the brilliant and brainy minds of this world. Some of us are multi-talented, like having many hands, or can outwork anyone (I used to be this outworking guy). Others have the means to recruit people and pay them to do their work (do we say extra hands?). Some of us are visionary as if we have more eyes than a pair. These are all gifts that we should not take for granted or waste. We must instead cherish them and celebrate because not everyone is fortunate to be endowed with extra eyes, arms, or brains.
Conversely, it is also how you view yourself. If you really believe it, or if you practice gratitude, compassion, empathy, and mindfulness, you will realize you have those extra attributes. Some call this the abundance mindset.
To put it simply, you have more power and influence than you think you have. You have more hands than just two. You have more eyes than just a pair. Use them to help a fellow human—or a sentient being—so that the world is a better place.
And if you feel absolutely helpless, just like any average person with no extra faculty whatsoever, I am always motivated by, and reminded to get into the smallest acts of kindness, by one line from The Schindler’s List—a line from the Jewish tradition:
“He who saves one life saves the world entire.”
Love, light, and contentment to all. May you work to alleviate the suffering of a fellow human.
Bali, Indonesia – I have a fear of drowning. I have also realised I have thalassophobia, which is the fear of depth. As a child I watched a movie in which a sea monster attacks a ship. This must have left some lifelong fear in me. I feel something scary will jump out of the deep sea. In any case, being from Bhutan – a landlocked country where there are no oceans, and where the lakes are considered sacred, you don’t have much experience with water.
On this wellbeing retreat in Bali one activity that they had planned was snorkelling and scuba diving near the Menjangan Island. The sea around the island is a protected coral sanctuary that is guarded by the rangers. No one is allowed to spend the night on the island, but during the day one can take a boat there to see the corals.
I was told that we would be taken to the island and there you can walk into this sea and look at the corals. However, I had misunderstood. The boat stopped some kilometres away from the beach and we were handed down fins, life-jackets and snorkels, and then told to jump off the boat. I had never done it before, and so I was almost giving it a pass when two participants, a super lively guy named Craig, and his partner, Carissa – both from Canada, offered to rescue me in case I drowned.
“Dead or alive,” joked Craig. “Hopefully alive,” he added with a big laugh. I had the heartiest laugh.
I felt reassured, though. It was just three days since I had known Craig and Carissa and I connected with them instantly – Craig for his loud and endless tales of survivals and success, which resonated with mine; and Carissa for her Italian descent, heart and smile. I lived in Italy for eight years. I love the Italians.
I explained to them that not only have I ever done that before, I also have the phobia of large body of water and depth – and I could barely swim.
“Trust me. You will love it,” Craig told me.
I was scared but I have also always wanted to see live coral trees. Legends and myths in Buddhism, and in our part of the world, talk about a heavenly paradise that is filled with coral trees, turquoise floors, animals and singing fairies. I thought this was my best, and maybe the only chance to visit this mythical paradise.
So off I jumped out of the boat and into the sea. I went down but was instantly bubbled up to the surface by the lifejacket. I must have looked terrified, though.
“Now relax,” Craig said, holding my arm.
He had a few tips: hold the snorkel with the teeth, close the mouth, and breathe only through the mouth. And if I find myself tired or anxious just roll over and lie flat looking up at the sky to regain my breath. And raise your hand if you are in trouble.
Then I was told to tilt my head down, wade my two feet and look into the depth of the ocean, which I did. And lo behold, there it was, the heavenly paradise. It was a universe of its own. An ecosystem of coral formations in a variety of colours, with vibrant sea plants dancing in harmony with fish species that I had never seen before. There were angelfish, sea horses, reef sharks, octopuses, starfish, giant clams, and eels.
I was both scared and overwhelmed with what I was seeing – a mix of several emotions, and I felt tired after some 20 minutes. I asked to be taken back to the boat. The Balinese lifeguard dragged me safely to it.
I was glad to be back to safety. Some half an hour later, the boat captain started calling back all the participants. We headed for the island for a packed lunch. It all felt so surreal. I was pinching myself to see if I was dreaming. I wasn’t.
After lunch we were told that they would be taking us to another spot where we can see the sea turtles. I really wanted to see them, as I have never seen them in the wild. The organisers thought that being from Bhutan I was not enjoying the experience and offered to take me back to the hotel, while other participants could continue.
“I am taking the second round,” I told them.
Everyone was surprised by my “courage”.
“Are you not scared?” someone asked.
“Well, I am. But this is the best chance to conquer my fear with so many divers around me. And in any case, my character is – when I am scared or uncomfortable with something, I drive straight into it,” I replied.
I had simply the most amazing experience in the afternoon. I loved following a giant sea turtle. And even attempted to go solo and dive down a little.
Life is scuba diving
We often stay away from exploring the world, exploring your true qualities or your potentials, and fulfilling your dreams because you fear something monstrous might pop up from the unknown. We then waste away our life in mediocrity, irrelevance, and emptiness.
Fear is natural in life. Fear is necessary for survival. It is one of the most basic instincts that comes from the most ancient part of our brain – the amygdala region. But fear can prevent you from living, and from good relationahips and self-fulfilment. Fear keeps us from fulfilling our dreams, exercising our true self, or realising our full potential. Because of fear they say you suffer more in your own imagination than in reality.
While a certain level of caution is necessary, most fears are unfounded, that are meant to control us. One of the most unnecessary fears we have is the fear of moving out of our comfort zone. And into the unknown. This is not good. Every human is endowed with abilities, talents and power to make the world a better place – for himself or for those around him.
So, jump off the boat and enjoy the wonders of another universe that may be lying right below you or besides you. Jump off from toxic relationships, from a job that is wearing you down, or from a place that doesn’t value you. Dive deeper to enjoy the wonders of the world that you may be missing. Take the plunge into the best you. Remember that you will be alright. You won’t drown.
And if you feel the need, find your “Craig” who will rescue you – dead or alive. Hopefully alive.
But. Make. That. Plunge.
Be in a community that loves you, and which you can trust. Fear is nothing after that.To jump, or not to jump?Coral tree (Photo – Megan Lim)This is where they dropped usMy legMy friend Lauren chasing a turtle? (Photo – Ryan Miller)From L-R – Lisa, Meghan and Kristina (Photo – Megan Lim)Craig and CarissaBaker and the tortoiseThe white coral tree
Bali, Indonesia – I am on my fourth day into the wellbeing worldwide retreat in Bali, Indonesia. This retreat comes on the heels of the pilgrimage around the sacred Drakarpo mountain in Paro, and the 10-day Vipassana course in Sikkim. So, it is a good landing because I am physically tired, but in a way still in the retreat mood.
On a serious note, while wellbeing and pursuit of happiness have taken a back seat in national policies and public debates in Bhutan these days, around the world it has gained momentum – especially after covid. For instance, there are over 70 friends and family gathered here from 22 countries seeking wellbeing and genuine happiness.
I often get the question, and I am also asked to give public talks, on the question: What is wellbeing?
The short answer is: it depends – from person to person and from country to country. Nonetheless, let me share what it means to be well in Bhutanese culture in particular, and the world in general – a framework to help you work towards your wellbeing, so to speak.
Wellbeing isn’t just about money. It is not about money, most of the time.
In the simplest of definitions, it means to be, and to feel, well. This is, of course, easier said than done. With this thing called life, with all its trials and tribulations weighing in all the time, everything becomes complicated.
Yet, from some research I conducted, and readings I have done, and trying to live them for the past couple of years, there are four components of life that need to be recognised, appreciated and balanced. And they are: social, emotional, physical, and spiritual wellbeings.
Social wellbeing is about cultivating a productive and meaningful social life and relationships built on gratitude, community and compassion.
Emotional wellbeing is learning the skills to regulate one’s emotions, practice self awareness and build positivity. As I always say, you will never make mistakes in life with what you know or have studied. But you can potentially blow up everything with your emotions.
Physical wellbeing, or wellness, is about learning more about your body – as in what to eat, to do exercise, and to take care of the body, and to listen more to it, so that it is in optimum condition to carry your life and dreams forward.
Spiritual wellbeing seeks to understand your spirit – as in your soul or your consciousness. Spiritualism is not about being religious. Spirituality and religions are two different things. Spirituality is about finding, understanding and enriching your soul. In Buddhism and Hinduism you also call it consciousness (sem and atma respectively).
Emotional intelligence and four-pillar wellbeing.
Of the four aspects of wellbeing, emotional wellbeing is the toughest to practise or acquire. Since I entered the profession of academia, this has been one of my core concerns, way of life and an area of research.
Wellbeing, according to this proposition, can spread across four thematic areas: mindfulness, community, self-curiosity and contentment.
Mindfulness as in self-awareness; community as in selfless service; self-curiosity as in self-care and growth; and contentment as in finding the balance.
Happy to be a part of this amazing family of international researchers and educators bringing the four pillars of wellbeing into classrooms, and into the world.
There is a popular holy mountain in Bhutan (a hill by local standards) where you walk around it for 108 times. On average it takes fifteen to twenty minutes to do one full circle, which means a good three to four days to complete the sacred number of 108 rounds. Legend has it that the spiritual merit of doing the 108 rounds is so great that one could cleanse even the worst of one’s past karma. And I just did that. It was not easy either.
After a gruelling three-day of walking, puffing, dragging myself and almost crawling towards the end, I completed the popular 108 circumambulations of this power place that was blessed by Guru Padmasambhava. This fulfils a dream that has been hanging on my mind for years after my first ever visit in 2002. During my last visit in 2019, where I just paid homage to the “talking” Guru in the main temple, I made a wish to be back to do the legendary 108 rounds. I was not ready for the challenge back then.
To provide some context, first, the mountain stands at almost 3,000 metres above sea level and the trail is around one kilometre long. A quick maths says 108 rounds equates to 108 kilometres. This is equivalent to two marathons back to back. Second, the trail moves vertically like a clock. You climb up from the base, reach a plateau, and then you walk down from the other side. It is not a flat walk. Both your knees and your thighs get killed in the process. When it rains, like it did on my first day, the trail is slippery – adding extra pressure on your legs.
Owing perhaps to these, and more so because of the blessings of Guru Rimpoche and all the subsequent deities and yogis who visited there, the spiritual reward of doing the 108 rounds of Dra Karp is believed to be so great that one is cleansed of all the sins as big as “killing one’s parents”. This is perhaps a metaphor to indicate the immense power and blessings of this sacred mountain.
The sacred Dra Karp in Paro
Dra Karp (also rendered as Drakarpo), which literally means “split rock”, is a popular pilgrimage site in Shaba gewog in Paro. According to some ancient scriptures, Guru Rimpoche – probably in the form of Guru Dorje Drolo, had moved from Taktshang to Dzongdrakha, and from there to here to meditate and hide a sacred ter – spiritual relics that would be later discovered by masters of destiny. The door to the ter, called ter gho, can be seen on the rocks.
As Guru was meditating in the cave, he found the space to be a bit tight and so he pushed the rock in front of him with his legs and hands and the rock was split. And thus the name, Dra Karp, which means ‘split rock’. The splitted space now holds a small and narrow temple.
As you enter the temple, there is a pagsamjongshing (wish-granting tree) near the right window, and a statue of Drak Tsen (the mountain deity of Dra Karp) on the left. As you go further the split rock is on the right and the cave is to the left. There are two statues of Guru Rimpoche – one inside the cave and one – a bigger one, on the altar to the right. The bigger one is more sacred, as it is considered as sungjoen (talking statue). For me, it is the most beautiful statue of Guru, which caught my attention during the very first visit in 2002.
On the split rock one can see various self-arisen images such as that of Jetsun Jambayyang (Manjurshri) and the footprints and handprints left by Guru – probably as he pushed the rock away from where he was sitting.
More than the cave it is the mountain that has been further sanctified by the visits and blessings of other Buddhist masters, deities and divinities. There are countless caves – big and small, and marks left by them. The most popular ones are the caves of Yidam Tandrin, and Lama Namkhai Nyingpo. It is obvious that Buddhist masters and practitioners down the ages have visited this place following the footsteps of Guru Rimpoche, and have left their own marks of accomplishments.
My favourite is a tiny footprint of a khandro (dakini) on the top plateau of the trail. This is where one should end the pilgrimage and sing and offer devotional dances to the deities and dakinis. The walk should start at the base, where you prostrate three times. There are wooden planks donated by some people to facilitate the prostrations.
On the same plateau there is also a large boulder split into three. According to a local man, Lotey Gyeltshen, 75, who served as a novice monk for four years before being drafted into the army, Dra Karp gets its name from this rock.
“When Guru was meditating in the cave below the deity, Drak Tsen, kept bothering Guru and kept hiding in this rock,” says Lotey.
“One day Guru was so annoyed that he chased the Drak Tsen who disappeared into the rock. Guru focussed his mind on the rock which split into three and the Drak Tsen was revealed and tamed. This is why this place is Dra Karp because this rock was split into two by Guru,” he elaborated.
“This is a blessed rock. If you have back pain, knee pain, shoulder pain, or headache, you rub here on different spots,” he added. A highly-spirited man, Lotey went on to demonstrate how to do the rubbing and switches from Dzongkha to Sharchop to Hindi, which made us all laugh or smile. But I did try rubbing my back on the boulder like a bear, and it did work. Whether it was my blind faith, or the real blessings from a boulder, my chronic backache made some comeback this time but not to disrupt my mission of 108.
In recent decades, Dra Karp has become a popular pilgrimage destination for its promise to be able to wash away one’s all bad karma – including vicious acts as big as killing one’s parents. Obviously this is a metaphor to highlight the immense blessings and power of this place. Every day streams of pilgrims of all ages can be seen struggling around this sacred mountain. The place is like a hotel with people coming and going at every hour.
I first visited in 2002, but couldn’t get 4 days off to do the 108 rounds. I made several subsequent visits with friends and family members for day visits and each time I made a wish to Guru that I be back for the legendary 108 circumambulations, so that I am able to wash away my sins – from both this life (I have committed many) and from my past existence that I really don’t know.
So, finally here I am – after a good 20 years.
My circumambulation experience
108 rounds of Dra Karp is a big undertaking. And like every such undertaking, one must plan and strategise. So I decided on a slow first day, followed by an intensive second day, and then wind down and complete it on the third day.
“Yes, it is best to start slow, and increase the pace as you get familiar with the circuit. You shouldn’t rush,” said Pema Choden, who let me use her house below Dra Karp, and who lives in Thimphu these days.
“Many people make a jump start only to give up on the second day,” she said.
I followed her advice.
On the Day Zero, which is the evening I checked into my room in Dra Karp, I visited the main temple, and offered a cake to Guru. I also made a deal with the local deity, Drak Tsen. If I completed the 108 rounds I would offer 108 butter lamps for the benefit of all sentient beings. I rolled the dice. I got his approval through a good number. I then did some inaugural rounds of Dra Karp since it was the holy Dakini Day, according to the Bhutanese calendar.
Then I kicked off the First Day of the mission. The target was 42 but I stopped at 31 and went home at 5pm. I had stomach cramps the whole day from too much chillis I ate. But that was not my biggest worry. I was focussed on my lower back, which has always troubled me, and which I was worried of spraining it.
The next day, after my body was warmed up, and after I knew every corner and boulder, I increased my pace. The weather gods were kind enough to send some clouds to cover the intense Sun. Nonetheless, I burnt my neck and my nose.
I met the target of crossing both the midpoint of 54 rounds and the two-third mark, which is 72. I closed the day at 75 – leaving 33 for the third and the last day.
I woke up on the third day with aches and pains all over my body that, at one point, I even doubted if I could complete the rounds. I kept going, albeit very slowly.
“Today, your speed has gone down, sir,” joked one female pilgrim.
“It has,” I replied.
“You have come this far. So you might as well crawl and complete the rounds,” she added.
And I was almost crawling. I got a second walking stick and I used my arms muscles to help my legs pull my super-tired body. I was literally walking on four legs.
The Sun was also unforgiving on the third day. At one point I was almost getting a sun stroke. With the rain clearing the dust, and being at 3,000 meters, the UV rays must have been at the highest level.
Everyone was also tired. And so we encouraged each other, and helped each other. There was one elderly lady who was lying flat on the ground, and almost giving up, and in pain.
“I think you need my help,” I offered to her.
“I don’t think you can do much. My right knee is gone. I can barely feel my foot,” she replied.
“Of course, I can. I am a doctor but not a medical doctor. Just a knowledge doctor (dzongkha translation of PhD),” I joked. She smiled.
“Here apply some Counterpain,” I told her as I passed her my pain ointment.
“It is foreign-made and it will give you instant relief,” I told her. (I added the foreign thing to help her psychologically. Anything foreign is always better for the Bhutanese).
After she applied, I wrapped her knees with the knee brace, which I was carrying it in case one of my knees gave up. When I was done, I told her to get up.
She got up slowly and exclaimed, “Wow! The pain is gone. You are better than a medical doctor.”
We all resumed our walk. I had missed two rounds playing a fake medical doctor. But I thought that helping another human was the bigger achievement, and my duty. Later, at one point when I was overtaking her, I saw her smiling and doing great and was like,
“You know, I just asked Guru Rimpoche to bless you with great knees and legs till your next life, and the next, and the next, so that you can make to every pilgrimage site in the world.”
I thanked her for praying for me, and silently teared up inside thinking that I got a better deal than her by helping her. And that good people and humanity still exist in this troubled world.
Miracles at the final rounds
It was around 5pm when I started my last three rounds. My phone rang. It was my elder daughter. As I was talking to her lying flat on the ground, I noticed a double rainbow that had appeared over the mountain (see the photo below).
I was like, “Is that the divinities are celebrating the completion of my mission.”
When I finished talking and resumed walking, my pilgrimage company, Kesang, had caught up with me and was overtaking me when I called out to him and told him to look over the mountain. He was stunned to see what he was seeing and was almost in tears..
“You are really something, man! I have never experienced something like this before.”
There was more.
As we did our last round, and as we were descending the stairs on the southern side of the trail, a light drizzle of rain showered on us only for a brief moment (see video below). The amazing thing was, it was only for the two of us. And there was no cloud over us. It was a bright blue sky.
And just as the drizzle appeared, it disappeared almost instantly. We didn’t share this incident with other pilgrims, lest they felt bad that they didn’t get this miracle blessing.
Boosted by the three auspicious signs my body suddenly felt fresh and strong that I could walk normally again without the walking sticks. I closed the pilgrimage by adding 108 prostrations at the base of the mountain, and paid gratitude to Guru Padmasambhava, and to the deity protector, Aap Drak Tsen, for not chasing me away. According to another resident-meditor, many people get injured and leave without completing the rounds.
Then on the next day before we left, we offered 108 butter lamps for the benefit of all sentient beings – as promised to the local deity. I prayed that as long as I lived, I would be back to do thirteen rounds, if possible (this is Lite Version to the 108), or at least do three, which is the bare minimum.
I prayed that this place continue to attract people and help redeem their lives and their bad deeds, and reset to give them a fresh start – or simply help them to continue on their journey towards becoming bodhisattvas.
What remains. What went away.
Although doing the Dra Karp round is a pilgrimage with all the merits of cleansing your bad karma and accumulating some good ones for your next life, there are few things that shall remain with me.
Peace and contentment. As I walked in silence for the most part, one thing you can do is think a lot – or think nothing. Either way I felt both my mind and my body becoming lighter. Some hundreds of calories were burning away each day and so were the negative feelings and emotions I have been carrying with me. When you take some time off from your comfort zone, to a place like Dra Karp you see things more objectively. They seem to miraculously get less important and slowly leave your head altogether. On the third third day I was smiling all day for no reason. Contentment, I guess, is when you don’t know why you are happy.
Kindness and compassion. Dra Karp is a limestone mountain – meaning there are no water springs. And there were pilgrims who did not have this prior information and did not bring any water along. Seeing that and without a second thought I went to town one evening and bought a truckload of water and placed them along the trail, so that people could just pick them. I also helped and cheered others who were less fit than me to complete their rounds. Likewise, there were other pilgrims who offered their modest lunch with me although they were humble people from rural areas. Not wanting to embarrass them, I accepted and sat down with them and shared lots of laughters and smiles.
Self-care. Taking three days off to do this became some sort of a self-care – something that we all are bad at – especially people in higher position in the society. And yet, it was worth it for my health too. After all, what is everything without your health? During my last annual medical check-up my bad cholesterol level was above the normal. After these three and half days of strenuous physical exercise, which was preceded by a 10-day Vipassena course in Sikkim in India, the numbers went down to almost normal. Was it the blessings of Guru, or did I burn the bad LDL away? I don’t know but from now on I plan to switch off from mundane life, walk around the mountain again 108 times to balance my health numbers.
GETTING THERE
At Shaba Bridge, take right to Euthok Gonpa. Dra Karp is some 5 kilometers from the highway. Small cars can ply.
SOME IMPORTANT TIPS
Prepare. Walk at least an hour everyday for a week or a month to prepare for the 108 rounds of Dra Karp. Do not take it lightly.
Strategise. 108 in three days means 36 rounds per day. Start with 36 on fresh legs. Do 48 on the second. Finish the 108 on the third day with 24.
Food. Eat lots of carbohydrates. Wheat flour in Tibetan style is best. You need energy and glucose. Do not eat any oily or spicy stuff. You will die of acid reflux.
Start early. Wake up at 4 and start walking at 4.30 or at least by 5. Take short breaks. Go to beg by 9pm.
Walk slowly. You will be doing over 100,000 steps. If you accidentally miss just one step and twist your foot or slip, your mission is over. Walk slowly and don’t stop.
Gonpo Tongtsho means “Thousand Offering to Mahakala”. It is a fortnighly propitiating ceremony to the three Supreme Protector deities – Yeshey Gonpo, Palden Lhamo and Jarog Dongchen, done in all the sacred chambers called Goenkangs around the country.
Over 200 monks are involved and it is a costly affair. However, affluent families sponsor make it a tradition to sponsor these day-long rituals, once a year, as it is considered to raise their status in the community, as well as be blessed and protected. Sometimes families and friends also come together to sponsor it for one day in a year.
My family has been making an offering of Gonpo Tongtsho on Gonpo Duelzang (14th Day of Lunar Calendar) of the Treldha Month – in Semtokha Dzong for 5 years now. Initially we had committed for 3 years but we have kept going.
This is mainly to follow a tradition of our ancestral House in Tashigang being a Jindha (sponsor) in Tashigang Dzong. We have no idea when this was established but we have records of it going on for at least six generations.
Now that Thimphu has become our home for the last 30 years we decided to pay our gratitude to the deities here. Back in Tashigang Dzong, on this day, we also continue to fulfil the age-old tradition, without interruption.
Semtokha Dzong
Semtokha Dzong is the first Dzong built by the founder of Bhutan as a nation-state, Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyel (1594-1651). It is thus one of the most important religious monument in the country, despite the fact that the larger Tashichho Dzong in the same valley serves as the country’s capitol building.
The internal architecture is unique with three temples on the same floor having the same common and large prayer hall in the middle. This way a quick visit is possible, as there is no need to do different floors to visit different temples.
Still, for the ardent devotees, the top floor has the residence of Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyel, which has been turned into a small temple.
Vipassana is an ancient Buddhist meditation technique. It is rendered as lhak-thong (ལྷག་མཐོང་) in Mahayana-Vajrayana traditions, which means to “see more”, “see clearly”. In these traditions, though, the Lhak-thong practices require prior understanding of the core philosophies of compassion (Dz. སྙིང་རྗེ་, nyingjéy, Skt. Karuna) and emptiness (Dz: སྟོང་པ་ཉིད་ – tongpa nyi, Sanskrit: Sunyata) – and is rarely delivered to a novice or lay practitioners. Training in another meditation technique called Shamatha (Dz. ཞི་གནས་, Zhi-néy, Sanskrit: Samatha) is also seen as a requirement, or as the foundational meditation technique, in the Mahayana school and its offshoots.
Vipassana as delivered in the Goenka Tradition is a simplified, but a powerful and experiential training in Buddha’s Eightfold Noble Path. Its ultimate goal is for one to work towards liberation by focussing on the concepts of Anicca (Dzongkha: མི་རྟག་པ་, mitakpa; English: Impermanence) and equanimity (Dz: བཏང་སྙོམས་, tang-nyom; Skt: Upek-kha) in which one develops a mind that it is free from the attitude of attachment to some and aversion to others. A balanced and calm mind, so to speak. It is based on the universal law of nature that all things are in a constant state of flux, including one’s body and mind. Hence, by sitting still, observing your breath, and by exploring inwards with a calm mind, one can feel the sensations arising and fading – which signifies the impermanence nature of all phenomena.
As you enter the 10-day programme you have to deposit your ego, status, and smartphones at the Reception Desk and for the entire duration you have to live like a monk or a nun – by subscribing to the Five Precepts of Buddhism, and meditate in total silence, guided by a teacher. You sleep in a simple room, and eat what is offered by the centre through the generosity of others. Day starts at 4 in the morning and ends at 9 in the night.
In absence of such a simple, a yet profound, technique for lay pratitioners in Mahayana followers (there maybe one), Vipassana is very popular among the Bhutanese. There are many who have embraced it and continue to practise, as well as new students like me getting into it.
Does this practice contradict with Vajrayana-Mahayana practices? No. To put it simply, Vajrayana Buddhism among non-monastic followers and practitioners engage in meritorous acts such as supporting the Sangha and reciting the mantras that are believed to propel one to salvation. Vipassana invites people to undertake inward journeys only – to explore one’s mind and purify it. So the two practices are complementary.
Starting off on the New Moon of the holy Saka Dawa month and ending it on the Birthday of Guru Rimpoche, I have completed my first experience with the popular 10-day Vipassana meditation programme.
Attending a Vipassana course has been seven years (three covid-years included) in the making. I registered for it several times, got my place confirmed, but everytime I chickened out at the last moment. To be honest, I couldn’t imagine waking up every day at 4 am (I am a night owl). Or sit still for 13 hours daily, because I have recurrent back pain. I also have another condition – a mild form of Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS), which urges me to move my leg or sitting positions every few minutes. I am also claustrophobic and to have my eyes shut and be alert for a long time is out of the question. So, Vipassana increasingly became a dream. For the same above reasons, I also stayed away from sitting through religious sermons that go on for days or months.
However, covid matured me into the fact that life was indeed uncertain (I was supposed to complete my PhD in 2020. I did it only in 2022) and so, one should never put away things for some other time. Besides, I was getting neither younger nor stronger and if I really wanted to do it, I had to go for it. And this time it was it.
My Vipassana experience
Sikkim welcomed me with an incessant monsoon rain. As I made my way up the banks of the huge Teesta in a small taxi, the swollen and muddy river gushed downstream with large trunks of trees and tin roofs.
“I don’t come here in this season, but Covid made me never to skip every opportunity to earn,” says Dawa Sherpa, the taxi driver. “Plus carrying Bhutanese going on pilgrimage always makes me feel blessed too”.
I checked into the Dharma Sineru in central Sikkim with mild diarrhoea and nausea. Perhaps I picked some germs in a roadside dhaba I ate in Odlabari. I thought I would be ok the next day as we started the course, which was not to be.
There were 56 of us – 26 male and 26 females. Few dropped out by the third day. It is common for people to do that. The course is not a walk in the park.
The first day of the course was terrible. My stomach condition had worsened, plus it was bloating too – making it uncomfortable to sit. To make matters worse my tension headache struck again. Happens, and this time it lingered on. I felt miserable.
The next day my headache had subsided but my stomach was still not settling down. I persisted. Despite these health challenges I increased sittings with lotus position from two to five to ten minutes.
The Day 3 looked hopeful. My stomach had quietened. I started catching up with the group. We had to observe our breath entering our two nostrils. This was my first training in the art of meditation. I have no other experience at all. I was beginning to enjoy it when another tragedy loomed.
I started feeling a sharp pain in my left lower back. I was like, “OMG! My back is giving up”. It happens from time to time thanks to an injury from a bicycle fall in college. I silently invoked my protector deities to help me pull through.
Day 4 was, however, no better. The pain had worsened. At every break I rushed to the room, stretched and did some exercise my physiotherapist had taught me, applied a coat of Tiger Balm, and rushed to the Hall.
But during one of the breaks, one of the assistants, didn’t see me come out of my room and came in checking. I was just finishing applying the Tiger Balm. Our eyes crossed.
“My back is giving up on me,” I told him as I started finishing the routine.
”Oh! If you want I can ask the Teacher to give you some rest,” he kindly offered.
“No! No! I don’t want to miss even one session.” I replied. I will persist.
And persisting I did but barely made it to the end of the day, which concludes with a Q&A with the Teacher – Norbu Bhutia, a kind-hearted and committed Sikkimese gentleman. I approached him and told him I had a request to make. I explained to him that I needed a seat with a backrest because my back was giving up on me – thanks to a past injury.
“Oh!” he replied.
I assumed that he was wondering why I had not declared my condition in the registration form, or during registration, which would have actually led them to not qualify me for the course. Vipassana courses are done as per the Theravada Buddhist tradition, which emphasises on strict rules and code of conduct called Pancha-Sila. Not be honest about your physical condition can be construed as lying, which is one of the Pancha-Sila.
“It happened 25 years ago and it never was a big problem for me and I am leading a normal life. But this time it is snapping,” I added.
“OK,” he said, “We will arrange a seat with a backrest for you”.
Moving to top gear
From Day 5, I shifted to top gear. I slowly sat still for 15 minutes straight without moving a finger, stretching my leg or opening my eyes. I was pleased with my progress. From the earlier day we had moved from Anapanna meditation, which is observing the normal respiration as it comes in and as it goes out, to Vipassana meditation that involves observing one’s physical sensations as they emerge, without judging or dwelling on them. This way you develop equanimity because, after all, all phenomena are impermanent. So why waste one’s precious time and life on them?
The Adittana Meditation
I was not done, as yet. There was one more goal to achieve even for a new student – a 60-minute sitting where you cannot open your eyes, hands or legs. It is called Adittana (strong determination) Meditation. I was mortified by the requirement and thought that was impossible for someone with RLS.
“Your mind is more powerful than your body,” said the teacher. “If you tame your mind, you can tame your physical body”.
For me it was always the other way around. I thought that I needed to tame my body to start taming my mind. But this golden advice from him was a breakthrough. I started visualising in my mind that it was possible. And I set out to achieve it on my last day. But, lo and behold, I scored my first 60-minute motionless sitting on Day 7. Of course, I had to, and I still have to, put in lots of effort. The thing is, one should do it effortlessly.
What next?
This is just the introduction to the technique and I don’t claim (no one can) to have mastered the art in just 10 days. It will take years to make a significant progress in this field. The founder of the Vipassana movement, Shri Goenka, himself trained under his Burmese teacher for 14 years in Burma before he felt he could teach others.
And yet, for me this was a great personal achievement – to know that I can wake up at 4 in the morning every day if I want to, and that neither RLS nor a chronic back issue should limit what you want to do in life. This opens up new opportunities for me such as venturing into more serious Vajrayana practices such as Dzogchen, or short solitary retreats. I am also confident to sit through long discourses and receive Thri-Lung-Wang, literally meaning ‘Initiation-Transmission-Empowerment’, which is very popular for lay practitioners in Bhutanese Buddhism, or sit though the sacred teachings on Prajanaparamita (Dz. ཤེར་ཕྱིན་, ཤེས་རབ་ཀྱི་ཕ་རོལ་ཏུ་ཕྱིན་པ་, Sher-chin, Eng: Perfection of Wisdom), or Rinchen Terzo (Dzo: རིན་ཆེན་གཏེར་མཛོད་, The Treasury of Precious Termas).
Vipassana was a great experience and I plan to do it once every year. If for nothing, it humbles me into being a monk, even if it is for a limited time.
Most importantly, I would like to integrate the essence, or the ultimate goal, of Vipassana, and Buddhism in general, which is to deepen the concepts of equanimity and impermanence. I will make every effort to make the most of every moment – but not to over-cherish the good times because they won’t last, and not to over-despair during bad times because they won’t last either.
And if either good times or bad ones overpower you, observe your breath as it comes in, and as it goes out.
BHAVATTE SABBE MANGALAM – May all beings be happy
Getting there
Dhamma Sineru is set in the rural mountains of central Sikkim with a view of the Himalayan peaks of Kanchenjunga, Lachen and Lhachung. It is around 7 hours drive from Bagdogra Airport, New Jalpaiguri Train Station, or from the borderingy city of Phuntsholing in Bhutan.
It takes about 30-60 minutes from Gangtok.
Who should attend it?
From what I gathered in this first 10-day course, Vipassana is ideal for any adult – and especially for those in. It humbles you into seeing the reality as it is. You realise that none of them will ultimately matter. For 10-days you live a life of austerity, discipline and anonymity that is free from ego, greed or jealousy – The Three Poisons that keep us in samsara.
Although Vipassana is not a therapy for any illness – mental or physical, it is very therapeutic for both body and mind. The body gets some rest from the excessive sugar, carbs, or processed food. Mentally it purifies your mind into clearer thinking.
It is highly recommended for mid-career professionals and people heading towards, or passing through, mid-life crisis. It gives you a great opportunity to take stock of your life, and strategise what remains of the years ahead.
What does it cost to attend one?
All Vipassana courses are delivered FREE of any mandatory fee to the participants. You may donate after the course if you feel you benefited or that someone can benefit with your donation. The only cost is getting to the venue.
From Bhutan it costs Nu. 8,000 and up (as of July 2023) to be dropped at the centre by a taxi from Jaigaon (India). You can ask the same taxi to pick you up if you don’t want to stay on for a few days exploring Gangtok or Tashiding after the course.
Dorji Wangchuk 