Exploring Eastern Bhutan, A Travelogue

It was still raining when I reached Trashigang. It was a two-day long arduous journey starting from the capital city, Thimphu, through hairpin bends and narrow, dangerous bumpy roads. We made it, for now.

Chorten Kora, Trashiyangtse

As we approached the town, the rain had stopped. There was a piercing silence, punctuated only by the sound of our car squelching on the wet tarmac. Night fell in an instant, but it rained again. 

I was given to the care of a local administrator for the night, whose wife took great efforts to make sure I was comfortable. She talked non-stop, except when she was eating, which she did from time to time.

I couldn’t wait for the morning when I would be travelling places in eastern Bhutan. It was the august of 2014. I would be covering at least four districts; Trashigang, Trashi Yangtse, Mongar and Lhuentshe for the next few days.

I was up and ready when the morning broke with a glorious sunshine after last night’s heavy downpour. I felt good. I hired an old pickup truck and headed towards a remote village in Trashigang.

As a journalist, I was up for task; I was ready to listen to people, to their stories, their sufferings, their delight, their history, their aspirations. But the journey through the quaint villages of eastern Bhutan had more things in stock than I was prepared for.

Enter any home in eastern Bhutan and they persistent offer Ara, a local beverage mixed in a delicacy of egg and butter. But no drinking on the job.

Our Bolero truck screamed and struggled through the mud, after a while, it got stuck in the slush and we had to abort and find an alternative way. We cancelled our ride to the remote villages and headed towards Rangjung from whence we would move on to Lhuentshe.

I had read about Lhuentshe a decade ago or so, in one of the local newspaper which described it as a town where a newcomer on reaching Lhuentshe would look for the town, only to realize he has been in the heart of it all the while.

It hasn’t changed much today, Lhuentshe is still a small settlement of just over fifty shops, but the countryside is steeped in a rich legacy of history.

We drove a few distances towards a place called Takila, where a giant statue of the Buddhist master, The Indian Prince, Guru Rinpoche was being built based on an ancient prophecy. The statue was incomplete with bamboo scaffoldings, but the face was almost done. And it looked down on me with an air of majesty, compassion and peace. I felt a trickle of dharma rain down my exhausted frame.

On returning, we offered a lift to an elderly man from Lhuentshe, who indulged us in a delicious anecdote of a legendary king who lived in ancient Lhuentshe and built a nine-storied underground fortress.

The ruler of Bangtsho in ancient Lhuentshe was famed for his riches that lured Tibetans across the border. But the king had skillfully built a fortress underground that it was practically impossible to locate him.

Entrance to the underground fortress of the Bangtsho King

The old man went on almost in a monologue, - “the fortress can still be seen today”, said he, “but no one dares enter.” To this day, people believe the king still dwells within the fortress in the form of a serpent.

Later however, after many failed attempts by the Tibetans, the king was caught grazing his cattle in an open field. One of his servants betrayed the king by informing the Tibetans.

I simply wondered why the king took time to graze his cattle when a servant could do such menial jobs.

When we returned, we headed towards Mongar, a much bigger town than Lhuentshe. We stopped at a village called Chali, where I was surprised by the language they spoke. Their language was a mix of all the languages spoken in the country including a spattering of English and Hindi.

Trashigang Dzong, built by Chogyal Minjur Tempa

The legend of the origin of their language according to an oral literature goes back to the time when the gods were distributing languages across the world. It is said when the gods reached Chali, all the languages were already distributed. So the gods picked bits and pieces from all languages and gave it to the people of Chali.

We continued onwards to Mongar and then back to Trashigang, I had a day left when I should be returning to Thimphu. Much yet remains to be seen and explored.

Eastern Bhutan is truly amazing; it was a rare opportunity to live a poet’s dream, ‘far from the madding crowd.’