A ten-day trip to Bhutan offers a peek into what it takes to make the heart sing
Iam fascinated by the idea of happiness. I have read every article in Opinionator (NY Times), watched several episodes of TED Talks and analysed many a book written on the theme. Happiness is the one thing all of us want in abundance, and yet we understand so little about it. No two definitions of happiness are the same, just like fingerprints. The more I have tried to capture this emotion, the more it slipped from my grasp.
The Bhutanese take happiness to heart. They believe it to be a tangible and measurable concept such as gross domestic product (GDP), and other economic indicators. The fourth Drago King, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, coined the term GNH (gross national happiness) that laid down the path to a more joyful and fulfilling life for the Bhutanese. Thus, the people of Bhutan have rejected the conventional model of fast-paced economic growth for a slower, more holistic approach to life.
By all estimates, they have succeeded in creating a lifestyle more conducive to happiness. This country, popularly known as the Last Shangri-La, was rated the happiest in Asia and eighth-happiest in the world by Business Week — so much for the absence of malls, discos, Bentleys and McDonalds.
A ten-day trip to the Land of Thunder Dragons offered me a peek into their secret:
The silenT Buddha
As soon as we — me and my friends — stepped on Bhutan’s soil, a few things disappeared, namely noise, crowd and garbage. The difference stared us in the face. On one side of the border stood Jaigaon (West Bengal), with its clamour of a thousand people, shops and hotels. On the other side was Phuntsholing (Bhutan) — pristine, spacious and serene.
On our first evening in Bhutan’s capital and biggest city (Thimpu), we went to see the 169-feet tall Buddha statue that stands atop a mountain and bestows blessings, peace and happiness to the region. It instantly reminded me of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro. The two structures indeed have an uncanny resemblance in placement and principle. The figure is symptomatic of the place and its religious ethos. Buddhism lets you be. Too many religions tell us what to do and that works contrary to what they want to achieve. Buddhism demands little from its followers. It encourages people to find their own answers. I found that line of thought refreshing.
After admiring the sunset from the hilltop, we decided to walk down to the city instead of taking a cab. As we walked and chatter, we looked up to admire the sky with countless stars. This luxury of time and space in the company of close friends made this place so special. I guess that is what travel allows us to do.
leap of Joy
We had gone through an extensive phase of planning and meticulously prepared an itinerary. When we finally reached Bhutan, we abandoned it all. We wanted to get an authentic experience and what better way to do that than to jump into a freezing river with a deadly current (my friend’s idea).
This is how it happened: We left Thimpu at sunrise and after a two-hour drive, reached Punakha. This was the countryside I was so eager to explore. We left our bags in the hotel and headed straight to the Punakha Dzong (Palace of Great Happiness).
The Zong is arguably the most beautiful fortress in all of Bhutan. The structure is surrounded by imposing mountains and two rivers of different colours flow on either side of its walls. The confluence of male river (Pho Chhu) and female river (Mo Chhu) takes place a few meters ahead of the Zong, and it is a sight to behold.
“I want to take a dip,” my friend said despite being a rookie swimmer.
“You have lost your mind,” I replied, looking at the volatile current.
Ten minutes later we decided to jump at the intersection of the two rivers. I was walking tentatively and carefully into the river when I saw him run past me to take the plunge. I threw caution to the winds and jumped right behind him. I literally froze in the chilly water, but there was no end to the smile on my face. One dip turned into half-hour-long antics.
aimless walks
Late in the afternoon, we took a long walk past open farms and wide fields. We may well have been in the Alps. There was greenery as far as we could see, and tall mountains reaching up to the skies. An unexplored trail took us to an isolated patch next to the river. We were occupied with our thoughts and in a mood to reflect. There, I made a promise to myself. From now on, I would focus on all the great things I had going for me as opposed to all that I didn’t.
The Trek ThaT was
“Give me the hardest and most dense mountain with a view to die for. And make it a challenge,” I said and the sherpa took me quite literally.
“Mountain Kitiphu,” he said. What no one mentioned was the serious danger of bears lurking in that area. The mammals feasted on red cherries and mushrooms that were aplenty in the forests during the monsoon season.
In a casual chat during the trek the guide confessed to me that he didn’t sleep thinking about the dangers of the trek. There had been many cases of bear attacks in the recent past, one as recently as yesterday — close to the spot where we were standing. Suddenly, I had enough energy to double my speed.
We had two pets with us, a German shepherd and a Doberman. These two beauties looked after us every inch of the way. They walked ahead of us and then came all the way back to where the slowest person was, to urge him on.
The mountain was so dense that we couldn’t see past the bushes, and the trail so narrow that we could only walk in a single file. The message was clear: this was not human territory, we were trespassers.
We stuck together, egged each other on and gave out loud screams every few minutes to mark our territory.
After four hours of relentless and steep climb we finally reached the top of the mountain. Sitting on a small rock, we shared sandwiches and savoured the picturesque view of the valley. In that moment, all the effort and danger was worth it.
The mysTical BuddhisT prayers
What does one do after escaping bears? Head straight to the Tiger’s Nest, of course. The last leg of the journey took us to Paro and the famed Taktsang Palphug Monastery known as Tiger’s Nest. I can say with authority that any trip to Bhutan is incomplete without this pilgrimage.
Tiger’s Nest is a sacred site and temple complex of unparalleled beauty. The structure has sprung out of the edge of the cliff almost like a wild mushroom, as if on a whim. It defies all rules of architecture, engineering and even gravity. And yet there it has stood firm since 1692.
It is not a glorious story of human victory over nature but, in fact, the synergy between the two forces. The walls of the monastery and the hill are almost joined together as one. It signifies everything that Bhutan stands for.
A two-hour long trek took us right up to the mighty waterfall at the entrance of the monastery. On three sides, towering above our head, were rocky cliffs and the water came gushing down from the summit making a thundering sound.
It was like any other monastery in Bhutan with circular bells and plethora of monks in maroon attire. However, to stand at the end of this edifice was like being at the edge of the world. This place was not part of our world; it existed in a vacuum. A black hole of enlightenment.
Ten days later, I was back to the noise, madness, and deadlines of the city. However, I returned home with a sense of calm. I haven’t discovered a magic formula for happiness just yet, but I came back with some happy memories. I can live with that.