Cheri Gompa - The abode of divinity
The road followed the contours of the landscape; twisting over mountains draped in rich green vegetation. A silvery blue river tumbled through the valley to out right. For miles, we had not passed a living soul when suddenly I spotted a speck of orange - on the tarmac in front of us. That was a lama. A clear sign that we had almost reached our destination - the Cheri Gompa, some 15 km north of Thimphu, the capital of the little Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan. Of course, we had seen the white monastery buildings dotted across the crest of a hill some time ago but then distances are different to gauge in mountainous terrain.
We drove past the elderly priest, telling heads through the bony fingers of one hand and spinning a prayer wheel with the other, swung around a final bend and arrived at a cleaning in front of a quaint little bridge that straddled a gushing stream. The last stage of the journey to the shrine would have to be on foot.
I looked up at the white buildings with sloping brown wooden roofs near the summit of the peak with a sinking heart; it was going to be a steep and demanding trek up to the abode of divinity. Known as Cheri Dorji Dhen, the monastery was built in 1620 by Ngawang Namgyel, also know as the Shabdrung, who was the first ruler of unified Bhutan. Indeed, the first order of monks from the Tibetan school of the Drukpa Kagyupa version of Buddhism was established in Bhutan at this Gompa. Today, the monastery is an important seat of religious teaching that attracts monks from around the country who comes for refresher courses and spiritual retreats. Curious tourists are also welcomed to enjoy its serene settings.
The trek up to the summit started with a crossing a picturesque little wooden bridge suspended between two turrets of brick on each bank. It was decorated with colourful prayer flags waving their devotion in the wind. On the far side of the river there was a large green meadow blushing with wild flowers. In autumn, yaks come here to feed on the succulent grassy land.
I followed a narrow trail across this rich pasture little realizing that it would be the last and only stretch of even land I would traverse over the rest of the hike. The trail led me into an enchanted forest of moss covered trees, tinsel draped pines and thick undergrowth. The air was dense with the musty aroma of life regenerating itself out of fallen trees. The crunch of leaves underfoot mingled with the strains of songbirds.
A short while later, however, my attention started to refocus on the toll the steep, twisting trail was taking on me. Ignoring the protests of my legs and lungs as best as I could, I pushed on. Soon a small group of monks with loads of provisions strapped to their backs strode past me with smiles and nods of greeting and encouragement.
I caught up later with the group which was resting at a little clearing about two-thirds the way up to the summit. As I collapsed on the stone rest built around a small white stupa, they harnessed themselves to their heavy loads once more and were off.
Far away, deep down in the valley, was Thimphu where my adventure had started. Leaving the bustling heart of the city behind us we drove through a valley flooded with paddy fields. Looking down at this sea of green with farmhouses scattered all over, Pema of Druk Air, informed me that this was what Thimphu looked like before it was consumed by the rush of development that started some 25 years ago. Today, the farmlands that were once a feature of the capital city have made way for buildings and roads.
Some of 10 km down the road, near the village of Begana, tucked away in a fold of the road, was a huge flat-faced rock painting in vivid colours of Guru Rinpoche. The Guru, also known as Padmasambhava or reincarnation of Lord Buddha, had not only unified many warring overlords of the region but also repelled repeated threats of invasions from Tibet. As a result he earned the title of Shabdrung or at whose feet one submits.
I set out on my final assault on the summit where I too would pay homage to the legacy of the revered later. However, at the top we discovered that visitors are welcome to enter the courtyard of the Gompa that Shabdrung built but they were restricted from entering the buildings. Within the holy walls of the monastery, there is believed to be a silver cask which holds the ashes of the Shabdrung’s father.
I relaxed under the shade of a tree and soaked in the peace and quiet of the setting. Occasionally a monk in flowing robes would pass by and we would exchange a silent greeting. Soon it was time to make my way back to civilization. As I started my descent, a rustling in the bushes above made me look back. I was expecting a lama instead; I spotted a deer gazing back at me with large liquid eyes. Yes, this was the land of innocence and I had the privilege of entering it if ever so briefly.
By: Gustasp Irani, 2002