The forgotten ruins of Drabai dzong
It was an unusually warm and sunny day in July. Occasional patches of fluffy cottony clouds drifted in the blue sky as we walked up the valley of upper Choekor in Bumthang on our way to the ruins of the fifteenth century Drabai dzong built by a chieftain popularly known as Choekor Deb. After we crossed the Togtogbe bridge over the Dhur Chu (river) and entered the valley of Tangbi, we took the well used Bumthang cultural trek, a popular trek for those who enjoy an easy scenic walk of less than three days. Dhur Chu was a magnificent spectacle. Swollen with water due to the recent rains, it thundered and smashed against the rocks on its course down the valley to form the Chamkhar Chu.
On the Bumthang cultural trek is a village of Tangbi known for its Lhakhang built by Chokyi Drakpa of the Karma Kajyu order in the fifteenth century. It still attracts a large number of devotees especially in September/October to participate in the festival of Tangbi Miwang or the fire blessing.
After four hours’ trek we could see the temple of Zangling on our right. Less than a kilometer away from Zangling is the village of Tashiling. From here the trail turned east towards Phe Pha La pass (3800m) which descends into the upper part of the Tang valley. We turned north-west instead and crossed a gorge; balancing ourselves over two logs of wood which served as a bridge. The river below was roaring down its course with intimidating speed. A steep climb of about 500 meters from the gorge took us to a copse of wormwood and ferns. Dodging the thorny overhanging of berberis and wild rose bushes, we reached a dank and dark forest. Ap Dorji, our guide, lifted some of the vegetation with his dagger and showed us the first remnants of a wall. According to him, these could have been the remains of the outer wall of the dzong. We climbed to the top of the hillock where the dzong was situated. The evidence of stone structure was undeniable. All around, we saw the remains of walls under the undergrowth. It was difficult to assess how thick the walls would have been. However, in spite of the thick vegetation, our untrained eyes and lack of archeological experience we could visualize a massive structure that once stood there commanding the valley. The man who chose this location for a fortress could not have chosen a better place. From here the view of the valley was spectacular.
Despite the idyllic location of the dzong, access to water would have been a formidable challenge. The nearest water source was at least some five hundred metres away. Pointing out a place below the hill, Ap Dorji said, “The people of that village were the subjects of Choekhor Deb and they carried water from the stream to the dzong.” Dorji’s explanation disappointed me as I had heard a fantastic story about how the inhabitants of this fortress got their water. According to the story, Choekhor Deb had devised a system of piped water that was conveyed to his fortress through numerous skins of oxtails that were jumped together!
Besides the remains of the walls there was nothing to suggest that there was once a huge dzong here bustling with life. The only signs of life now are those left by the wild animals.
At about 2 pm we looked for a picnic place among the ruins and selected a spot where two walls would have formed a corner. The rays of the sun filtered through the trees and lit up the spot, creating a dream-like, mystical atmosphere. There was silence everywhere; even the roar of the river was only a faint murmur in the distance. The crackle of wrappings of our food seemed like a gross intrusion into the environment of deep silence and serenity. The papers and plastic wrappings seem to defile the sanctity of this forgotten sanctuary.
After lunch, as we descended down the hillock, the sound of the river grew stronger. Ap Dorji was keen to show us the mill, which was located close to the river but within the outer walls of the fortress. The remains of the mill’s walls are almost intact standing at least two to three metres high in some places. The holes in the water meant for water inlets and outlets were clearly visible. We observed with interest the two outlets and, there seemed a third one too, which meant that there were surely two if not three mills within the structure. While we marveled at the size and uniqueness of the mills, Ap Dorji commented “Mills of this capacity meant that Choekor Deb would have taxed the inhabitants heavily and made their lives very difficult.”
The mills would have been huge - there is no doubt about it. I could visualize the gushing water, hitting the spokes of the giant wheels and turning the millstones, grinding buckwheat and spreading the aroma of its freshly ground flour all over. Just a thought of the noise, the three mills would have produced simultaneously, is quite overpowering. But the only sound we heard was that of the constant roar of the river. We stood within the enclosure formed by the walls and looked around. Trees grew densely and thick creepers, the size of a man’s arms hung eerily into the space.
What do we know about Choekhor Deb? We know nothing beyond the fleeting mention in the folklores that he was the person who forced Pema Lingpa to recover the hidden treasure from famous Flaming Lake (Mebar tsho) in the Tang valley before predestined time. Written history is as silent as the folklore on this mysterious man. “Why should we want to know about this demonic person?”, retorted a local oral historians and the archeologists to sift through the dust of time and throw light on the life gone by. They should look beyond the written pages of mainstream classroom history and lay to rest the ghosts of silence.
By: Kunzang Choden