Visited underrated Lugiraw—the horn of a sheep

Monstery seen from Kakaling

I presume most of us would have never heard, let alone reached, one of the underrated monasteries located about a 2-hour walk from Lusbi. I've been longing to go there ever since I started hearing the name: 'lugiraw,' 'lug-sheep,' 'raw-horn,' which roughly translates into ‘sheep's horn’ or ‘horn of a sheep.’ To my utter surprise, I came to know interesting stories after I reached the monastery along with 20 other pilgrims. I'll narrate some of them, although I am not eloquent enough to do as much as some of you expect from me.

I think knowing route is as important as having a proper guide. I'm sharing first about this. 

We drove from Kurjey Lhakhang towards Dur. After fifteen minutes, we came across a junction, took the right road towards BHU, and then took another right turn onto an unpaved road, which led us to Lusbi village. We drove until we reached the end of a bumpy road for a few minutes. We distributed our packed lunch amongst ourselves before we began our actual trek. Within that short span of time, another group, apparently T-Cell staff in their twenties, came smilingly out of their Bolero Camper. Together, we started climbing from the base of a mountain that would take us to our destination. In the beginning, I felt so tired that I even thought of giving up. As I walked further, carrying a 15kg rice container, my body couldn't adjust, so I had to share the burden of carrying the heavy lunch box with my young nephews. Then, I felt relieved with a water bottle and a few chewing gums in my side bag. Frankly speaking, I didn't find the path too strenuous, especially when I saw my 9-year-old niece managing it. She had some difficulty initially, which is common for almost everyone. Once we reached Manithang, a small stupa on the way, the terrain became flat, and we descended until we reached the monastery. Our group took 1 hour and 40 minutes, including breaks; otherwise, it wouldn't take long for regular hikersWe drove from Kurjey Lhakhang towards Dur. After fifteen minutes, we came across a junction, took the right road towards BHU, and then took another right turn onto an unpaved road, which led us to Lusbi village. We drove until we reached the end of a bumpy road for a few minutes. We distributed our packed lunch amongst ourselves before we began our actual trek. Within that short span of time, another group, apparently T-Cell staff in their twenties, came smilingly out of their Bolero Camper. Together, we started climbing from the base of a mountain that would take us to our destination. In the beginning, I felt so tired that I even thought of giving up. As I walked further, carrying a 15kg rice container, my body couldn't adjust, so I had to share the burden of carrying the heavy lunch box with my young nephews. Then, I felt relieved with a water bottle and a few chewing gums in my side bag. Frankly speaking, I didn't find the path too strenuous, especially when I saw my 9-year-old niece managing it. She had some difficulty initially, which is common for almost everyone. Once we reached Manithang, a small stupa on the way, the terrain became flat, and we descended until we reached the monastery. Our group took 1 hour and 40 minutes, including breaks; otherwise, it wouldn't take long for regular hikers. 

If I've forgotten to introduce anyone, it's the caretaker of the monastery who has been with us from the beginning of our journey. He is a kind Lama, the source of many of the stories I will share.

The Lama stays alone, looking after the monastery, but that's not the only reason I'm surprised by him. It's when he told me how he carried gas cylinders and other heavy items like rice bags and water tanks that I was even more amazed. He doesn't use horses to carry heavyweight items. In the simplicity of his life, I saw the qualities of a spiritual seeker who doesn't take anything for granted. I thought that if I truly want to spend time in the woods, knowing life-hacking skills is important, something I didn't realize until I met the Lama. In my observation, the Lama was like a well-equipped explorer venturing into a wildlife safari.

Now, let me share some of the sacred sites of Lugiraw by introducing the founder. According to Sonam Darjay, the caretaker in 2011, the foundation of the current monastery was laid by a famous Geshe Kharak Gomchung from Tibet. The present monastery was extended in the 17th century. The place became more famous, and it got the name from an incident that is narrated by many: Yogi Kharak Gomchung had a sheep accompanying him in carrying his baggage. One day, deities, spirits, and demons were causing harm, cracking the cave in which he was meditating. Miraculously, Geshe Kharak lifted the cave with one of his legs, and at that instant, his sheep came to the rescue, lifting a cave with its horn. Evil spirits were subdued in that moment. We can see the print of the horn and foot, the phodrang of subdued spirits, and the seat of a master evidently behind the monastery. Hence, the name of the monastery. The Eto Meto tree was used for tethering sheep, and I had an opportunity to observe it up close. The holy water below the cave has now dried up, but one can still see the cave getting wet in the area. There are sacred nangtens as well, which I won't elaborate on for some reason.

Print of horn

Eto meto tree, spirits phodrang, foot print and seat of Lama.

Do and don’ts for monks

According to the present Lama, the monastery remained under the care of Tamzhing Chhoeje and descendants for many years. With time, managing it became difficult for the family, so it was handed over to Trongsa Rabdey.

I saw a large desho paper pasted against the wall on the top floor. My curiosity couldn't hold me back from asking the Lama about the purpose of that paper. Upon careful inspection, I could read some of the discipline-related words, though most had worn out. I was told that there were some hundreds of monks, and people from as far as Thangbi would bring monks for their ritualistic purposes. The daily learning of the monks included some of the basic rig-nye, and people living nearby the monastery paid taxes to the powerful lord, and the Lama had influential political powers as well.

It's sad to see that the monastery is in dire need of restoration. It feels like the monastery is completely forgotten by everyone. I hope the concerned authorities will look into it as they would any other important issue.

This monastery may hardly have any space on the visitors' list, but those who make it here will definitely fall in love with it

I ventured into Bonbji—the place of bõn

I never thought I would visit Bemji, one of the remote villages under Nubi gewog in Trongsa. It was only after reaching there and searching online that I learned more about that place.

Nephew Chokden was my guide when I visited Naktsang,  with Kanjur Lhakhang seen in the background. 

Before I share with you the historical significance, let me explain how I reached there.

One of the daughters of my maternal aunt is married to a man from Bemji. So, he was on the way along with his daughter to receive treatment from Rangshikhar Rinpoche in Gelephu. They were not sure about the Rinpoche's residence. Since I know one of the attendants through a friend, I told my mom to inform them that I have someone there. In that short conversation, my mom arranged for my return journey with them. Upon their request, I accompanied them to Rangshikhar Rinpoche as a translator since both the father and daughter were not fluent in Tshangla. 

That's how I reached Bemji. 

In the beginning, I wasn't sure about the exact location, although I knew it starts somewhere from Bjizam, a bridge a few kilometers from Trongsa towards Thimphu. Of course, I had no reason to worry as I was accompanied by natives. I think it took more than forty-five minutes from the bridge point to reach Bemji, which is 17 km away. It was a dark and foggy ride that prevented me from enjoying the new scenery. The only thing I could notice was the light in each household in the distance.

The next morning, I tried looking around, but the foggy weather still veiled the villages. I waited for the next few hours to get a clear view.

Now, as I checked online, I came to know more about Bemji, its religious significance, and the stories of deities.

I asked my in-law to share anything with me, and he shared some interesting stories about Muktse, the protecting deity, and other stories that I forgot. In the olden days, Muktse would roam freely amongst humans. Many women would give birth to his illegitimate children. While some children misused their physical strength, others benefited the community. One notable figure we have heard of is Garp Lungi Khorlo—he became a postman of Trongsa Poenlop for his unmatched speed. Muktse Phodrang can be seen from the school in the distance, overlooking the villages.

A few minutes from the primary school, there's a three-story traditional house known as Bonbji Choje Naktsang. According to one tradition, Bemji is actually a mispronunciation of Bonbji, which means 'inheritors of Bön.' It is said that the illegitimate son of King Trisong Detsen settled here after being exiled. He was a Bön practitioner, hence the name. Another tradition holds slightly different beliefs but ultimately believes the initial settlement was chosen by a descendant of a Tibetan king.

After walking a few steps down, there's another two-story house called Kanjur Lhakhang. I was told that the Kanjur was first received by the people of Kuenga Rabten from Tibet and kept there, with the commitment to recite it once every year. However, people couldn't continue after a few years, so it was brought to a source of Mangdi River after discussions among concerned authorities. Kanjur recitation is still continued every year by the people of Bemji. Monks from Kharchu Monastery have voluntarily gone there upon the villagers' request in the last few years, starting from the 15th day of the first Tibetan month.

Then I went for another 20-minute ride to Dokseyphel Goenpa in the north.

Dokseyphel Goenpa 

The next day, I began my journey towards Bumthang. I hitched a ride in four vehicles until I reached my destination.

Visited home in Gelephu

Journey 

After four long years in Bumthang I made myself to southern foothills along with brother and family to meet our only mother. Moreover it is better to be in the south during cold season and I've always wanted to go there for a short break. I woke up at 3:00 am to begin my morning chant and get ready for the departure after an hour. However we were late by one hour when we started our journey (5:00 am.) Our vehicle roared through the silent Chamkhar town and then vanished into the Garpang pines. It was a marvelous ride in the early morning especially when there’s no ice and snow.

Newly paved road between Serzhong—Tareythang highway.

We reached Trongsa when the sun rays has already fallen on the mountain peaks. After refueling the diesel our journey continued until we reached a roadside canopy at Koshala. We unpacked our tea and snacks during a short break. But the motion sickness didn't let us eat and drink peacefully. It hardly occurs to me with certain type of vehicle. Amongst all niece had a bad suffering; we had to stop several times in between. 

Although my brother and I stay nearby we hardly get time to talk. This trip was worth as we could share our opinions otherwise our information passes down through second and third person.

I was surprised when we reached home at 2:30 pm. The memory’s of traveling late in the night in the bus is unforgettable. Those days we had to travel more than 16 hours to reach Gelephu from Trongsa/Bumthang. We didn't have any choice than boarding bus. Finding a lodge in the late hours was another burden. Nowadays it isn't issue even if you don't have personal vehicle. 

After reaching home I was surprised by some of the changes. Of course positive changes like upgrading of Norbuling Higher Secondary, black top road till Tareythang, most houses are covered by betel nut trees, number of concrete houses have increased, apart from bus there's taxi and the shooting of land prices , all this factors have helped people’s living standards to improve as well. 

Sansari Bazaar 

Betel nut trees 

I am not satisfied with Sansarey Bazaar, we have seen this old colony since our childhood days and is still as it was long time ago. I wish if concern authority could help develop this old place to become a proper business market with proper infrastructures. The place does have a better scope. 

Dadgari Bazaar

If you happened to be in Gelephu, Dadgari is a must visit Thursday market in Assam where hundreds of people come and buy goods. I wanted to visit and it truly became wish-fulfiling this year after pandemic. I bought some of the things at a cheaper price which would cost twice or even thrice in Bumthang. People often down look Dadgari products without knowing that some of the expensive shops claiming their products as branded are actually being supplied from there. Of course you can't deny the fact that inferior products are supplied abundantly considering the lower income customers. 

Rickshaw drivers waiting for the customers

Vegetable seller's waiting for BONI buyer in the early morning. 

The price for this product is much cheaper and they're known for lasting as well. 

By the way if you're not tough there are people desperately wanting to take advantage of your weakness. For example, a day before the departure from Gelephu to Trongsa I went to buy spectacle in Dadgari, market adjacent to Bhutan gate, upon the suggestion from a friend. I asked the optical owner to show me the best quality, he showed me and was trying to convince me how good it looks on me and that I must go for that. If you've done shopping in Indian markets then you would know how cost prices are negotiated. They'll ask you double the price initially and it will go down half or more when it reaches your hand. The guy scammed me and I paid huge amount for the spectacles. I was aware and I let it go the way he wanted. 

Gelephu town 

I loitered myself in the town while remembering: 

As a young boy I used to come to this town just to watch movies with friends and sleep in the hotel room which would cost less than 150 ngultrum per night. I vivid five/six people in a single room, two bedded rarely, watching TV and adult movies on the DVD that was rented from a shop. 

An old cinema hall area is converted into park

This building has different shops

On one incident I ate THUKPA from a hotel but I didn't pay. It was not because of empty pockets, I had enough to cash, it could be some childish temptations to escape the life time opportunity of eating free of cost. 

One winter I went to Gelephu Tshechu with just fifteen ngultrum, I was fond of toy cars willing to do anything if I am to get that, so I bought an army jeep with the amount and returned home without even entering the Tali Dratsang.

I walked alone remembering all those bygone memories thinking how we might react if we were to reunite.

Remembering the day when I saw first bicycle

Riding this kind of cycle after so many years

I was barely 9 years old when I saw a bicycle for the first time in Samdrupjongkhar town more than 20 years ago. Although my memory’s couldn't store everything, I can still remember how I felt when I saw a man wearing a dark complexion riding and ringing a bell along the roads: I wondered how bicycles could produce such a melodious sound when there’s obstacles in the front. Later did I know those dark complexions were our neighbor Indians. It was completely different experience for a boy who came all the way from remote village where he had seen nothing but humans, some domesticated and wild animals. 

Few years later I could ride bicycles like the one I saw that once made me wondered. Even to these days— whenever I come across bicycle—the one that is mostly used by middle class Indians—which we call it MECHEY CYCLE—it reminds me of my narration thereof. 

Nyekor To Ura

Lately I, along with four other friends, had a memorable excursion at Ura. This is my first pilgrimage to Ura although I frequently visited the place for some good reasons. 

View from Shamzur. 

It was 24th July, Sunday. Mani Lama, as is well known from his previous incarnation with the name, planned to go Kunzangdrak but it got canceled. This made me feel bad about the situation. I'm such kind of a person who will have to clear the bump on my road map. So I asked Lama if we could go Ura for a day's pilgrimage to which he impulsively replied, "sure, where do you think we should go?" I pondered, "wherever Lama has visited," and looked at other friend as we were trying to find the best places. "Longchenpa's place in Ura." I added as it has been in my bucket lists ever since I came to read and know more about the omniscient one. 

We waited for the next day. 

I set alarm at 3:30 am but woke up at 5:00 am. Quite funny, right? We had to cook lunch and get ready with everything within a short time as I knew in my instinct that Lama was waiting for us. Luckily we were able to do quicker than we expected. After having light breakfast our journey kicked off before seven via old national highway. 

It was a cloudy day. We were ready with the weapon to shield ourselves from the rain. Without stopping at any point we straight away went to Shamzur which is about two hours walk from the road point, for slow walker, not for otherwise people. It took us at least one hour, if not additional fifteen minutes, at a normal speed. 

Unfortunately we couldn't get the proper explanation of the Lhakhang since care-taker was not there. Thanks to three jewels, at least we got opportunity to get inside with the help of pilgrims who have taken hardship to get the key from a care-taker after walking down the village then going back climbing up towards the Lhakhang. 

Nobody explained us anything. If not for Lama we might have returned without hearing anything about that sacred historical structure. The monastery has a statute of Guru Rinpoche as the main nangten constructed as an antidote during those days. According to the narration it was learnt that the villagers didn't help previous Wangthang Lama so previous Mani Lama played main role in the construction which was later consecrated by the Wangthang Rinpoche himself. 

I knew nothing more than that. Out of curiosity we went behind the temple and saw beautiful place of Shingkhar down the valley. We took photo in order to keep memories. 

Our next destiny was Dechen Choling, one of the eight lings of Longchenpa. 

After visiting there we visited a temple which is few minutes walk that has statute of a Shakyamuni Buddha and its believed as wish-fulfiling. Whoever prays here are blessed with whatever they want. I too had wished my share. 

We were hungry. No place was suitable for us to sit and munch on our food. After driving 10km we found a place where we could rest and have hefty lunch. We had begun our meal when rain started drenching us despite having umbrellas. 

Nevertheless it was an adventure in disguise for all of us. We simply loved everything that has happened. 

Some of the photos. 

Waste being dumped inside the wood. 

Rest.

Shingkhar Dechen Choling Seen.

Breath Taking View.

Lunch Spoiler: heavy rain. 

I Received Maize of Trashi Yangtse

I've a fond memories of growing up eating maize since my childhood days. When I received corn (as a chhom) on 25th July from a friend, sent from his home, it reminded me of my days when I would really hate kharang. But there was hardly any options if you've to fill your tummy. Nevertheless what I'm is what I've eaten therefore I'm grateful for those nourishment I received organically unlike the pesticides mixed and the processed foods that we get nowadays. 

Roasted maize. 
I had no idea other than roasting maize in a fire until a friend did this on his induction cooktop. It tasted good but not as much as it would have been from the fire. 

Boiling maize. 
I tried boiling but it tasted not so good. 

Given a chance I would eat roasted one. 

The Pain of Losing

Dear Ata,

I just wanted to say goodbye once more.

I don’t know how to say this. I—I—I’m... I don’t know how to begin. Still, I’m pretending to be okay. The days have never been the same since you left us. I hope and pray that you’re fine wherever your fate has taken you. As I’m writing this, with eyes full of tears, I’m trying to control my breath.

Alas! Maybe this is part of what life is all about.

I was receiving teachings on Chandrakirti’s Madhyamaka when I heard the news that you were admitted to the hospital. This treatise is an exercise in non-assertion, meaning it doesn’t allow us to fall into the traps of existence, non-existence, both, or neither. (For those unfamiliar with Madhyamaka and logic-epistemology, you’ll first need to understand and become well-versed in the conventional terms of these broad subjects, so I won’t elaborate further.) I was among 27 others for the session, but my mind was out of the class. I couldn’t concentrate, thinking about you. When this profound dharma, labeled the king of all treatises, couldn’t console me, I thought nothing could help me at that point in time. I know some of you may not like clichés, but as mentioned, this is life, and you don’t have the right to steer it, so I kept moving according to what life had to offer. Adjustment—that’s what I’ve read in some books and applied out of necessity in such a situation.

I still remember the day I went to Thimphu to attend to my sick brother. It was June 22, 2021. My friend was driving the car, my in-law was in the back seat, and I was next to the driver, playing music. Of course, we seemed completely okay externally, but only God knows what was going on deep inside us. Personally, I was going through mixed feelings. No sooner did we reach Thimphu than my in-law received a call and told me that a patient was admitted to the ICU (Intensive Care Unit). My only wish at that moment was to see my brother for one last time while he was still breathing. For that to happen, I had to wait until the next day; we spent the night at a cousin sister’s house.

We couldn’t tell our mom about the ICU, fearing she might have to go through additional suffering as she was halfway through her 8-day quarantine at one of the hotels in Gelephu. Anyway, she told us later that she knew from one of her relatives but chose to remain silent. She also narrated to us how quarantine had affected common people during emergencies.

Out of many quarantine-related stories, I found two particularly touching. These incidents actually boosted my mother’s energy, or so she told me. There was a middle-aged man from Laya undergoing the same quarantine procedures. If you remember, due to landslides and flash floods caused by heavy rainfall, 10 Layaps lost their lives. The man lost his family members in that tragic incident and was bound to reach them and attend the funeral rites, but he couldn’t.

Another man from Tsirang expected to reach home during his father’s cremation, but 8 days was too long. He told my mother and other people that everything would be finished by the time he managed to reach home.

"My son is still alive," my mother thought and made herself stronger amid the toughest times of her life.

The next day, I took a COVID test to get permission to enter the hospital. Later in the afternoon, I exchanged places with my second elder brother, who had stayed for more than a month as the attendant of our sick brother. I entered the ICU without asking anyone and was ushered near the door by the eldest in-law. However, one of the ladies, who later became a bit closer as she was a relative of my friend, requested my in-law to arrange my bedding in their line since they respected my red robe. By the way, I felt a little uncomfortable sleeping between the women as I had taken a vow of celibacy. Nevertheless, I didn’t feel guilty because situational factors forced me. I didn’t have a choice, as I believed I was a guest for the first few nights. After two days, I found a place in the corner where I met an acquaintance who was an IT officer in one of the ministries. Later, we would share our views on Buddhism. I felt sad for him, too, as he lost his mom, who had been bedridden for more than a year and was supported by a ventilator. As promised, he texted me two months later about his mother’s demise.

In the ICU, attendants are allowed to visit patients after every 3 hours, but not exceeding five times a day. It starts at 5:30 a.m. and ends at 10 p.m. All you have to do is feed and clean the patient.

When I visited the ICU for the first time, I was nervous and fearful at the same time. I wasn’t sure how to face someone close to me, but I made myself strong enough because I believe in the mantra of expecting the unexpected. When I entered the corridor with dozens of attendants, I saw them walking barefoot after keeping their slippers on a rack. I did the same. I could hear the noise of machines as if they were pumping something, followed by other beeping sounds. A few moments later, I saw the patients, unconsciously lying in their beds. I couldn’t recognize my brother at first. When I did, he wasn’t my brother. Sorry, but that’s honestly how I felt. I slowly walked towards him. I couldn’t handle it. I looked at my fellow attendants, and I could only feel my trembling feet, watching them clean and do other related tasks. Once again, I carefully looked at my brother in disbelief. I could feel the pain and relate to him. My eyes filled with tears, and I couldn’t greet him properly. So, I slipped out of the room and sent my in-law in my place. For the next 10 days, I visited him once a day, and sometimes I didn’t go at all. It felt like the machines had started to irritate my ears. Those noises have the power to make you sick even if you’re fit.

During my stay in the hospital, I spent my time reciting prayers for the sick. I visited wards, although the hospital had restrictions, tried interacting with some patients, and gave them blessed strings (sungkey) and jinlab. I learned different levels of life by seeing such patients.

I saw both failures and success!

On July 4, 2021, my brother left us forever. For the first time in my life, I witnessed something that would strike every one of us one day or another. Prior to this, I had seen people mourning; I had heard about the passing of somebody’s parents, friends, sibling, teacher, student, boss, nephew, uncle, aunty, cousin, loving friend, and so on. I never thought this would come upon us so soon. Habitual tendencies had obscured the truth, and I was lost in them.

My brother, those mathematics and computer skills I learned from you have become obsolete by now, but the biggest teaching I’ll value throughout my life is the impermanence of this human body that I learned from you.

I can sum up everything about life like what Robert Frost said: it goes on. It is painful to leave someone close, but it is quite another thing when our close one leaves us. Every time I think of you, I pray for you; I pray for all beings.

In the absence of death, I would have never known the essence of birth.