Bhutan – Day 3: Punakha and Environs

Once again, we began the day early, eating our breakfast at quarter past six. Our guide had decided to frontload the itinerary, as the weather forecast was predicting heavy rains to begin at three in the afternoon. We travelled northwards, therefore, to the scenic town of Punakha, Bhutan’s erewhile capital.

The most important sight in the area is – perhaps unsurprisingly – the Punakha Dzong, which stands proudly at the confluence of the Pho Chhu and Mo Chhu rivers. The first of these is traditionally thought to be male and the latter female. They unite to become the Puna Tsang chu (also known as Sankosh), which feeds the Brahmaputra in India. Built in 1637-8 by the first Zhabdrung Rinpoche, Ngawang Namgyal, the dzong is Bhutan’s second oldest and second largest, though many accounts agree it is the prettiest. From the viewpoint above the confluence, its imposing beauty was amplified by the rarely visible snow-covered mountains in the distance.

We did not visit the Punakha Dzong then, continuing instead to the Khamsum Yulley Namgyal Chorten. Viewed from below, the golden roofs of this building emerge above the trees of the hill on which it sits, as the temple counts a whopping three floors. Under it, a brook bubbles past quaint rice paddies and chilli pepper fields before flowing into an emerald-green, pebble-filled river. To even reach the temple hill, therefore, we had to cross a suspension bridge and walk past a few farms under the blazing sun, which revived my old habit of using my umbrella as a parasol.

Khamsum Lhakhang has a very interesting history. It was built to commemorate the marriage of Jigme Singye Wangchuk – the fourth modern king of Bhutan – to four sisters, a marriage that was meant to break an old curse on the royal family. The first monarch of the Wangchuk Dynasty, king Ugyen, essentially ended a centuries-long tradition of royal succession: upon his death, the Druk Desi was believed to reincarnate, and fierce squabbles would always break out between noble factions over the identification of his successor.

Although the powerful King Ugyen had put an end to this re-incarnational monarchy, his successor Jigme Wangchuk became convinced that the last reincarnation of the king was plotting to regain the throne with the help of some disgruntled nobles. He decided, therefore, to have the man murdered. Since such an action would have been seen as reprehensible, he framed the act as a suicide, and expelled the Druk Desi’s entire family to India.

Of course, Jigme Wangchuk’s crime generated a lot of bad karma, which caused both him and his son to die untimely deaths. The fourth king, Jigme Singye Wangchuk, wanted to avoid the same fate, so he invited the Druk Desi’s surviving relatives back to Bhutan. By marrying four of the Druk Desi’s great-nieces, he hoped to remove the curse from his progeny, and by abdicating in favour of his son Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuk, he saved his own skin.

On a cultural note, polygamy is not unheard of in Bhutan, but it usually involves no more than two wives. Jigme Singye’s case was quite special, as the king feared one or two wives might well be barren and leave him no progeny – no doubt another effect of the curse. In fact, his wives proved quite fertile, bearing the king ten children.

After our visit to Khamsum Lhakhang, we visited another one of Punakha’s major attractions: the Punakha Suspension Bridge. Spanning the wide Po Chhu River, it is the longest suspension bridge in Bhutan at 160 metres long (the longest suspension bridge in the world, I am told, is actually in the Czech Republic, and it is useless, environmentally damaging, and absurdly exorbitant). We did not do much else there except for eating some momos at a local pub and marvelling at the cacti laden with opuntias.

We returned to the Punakha Dzong at around twelve o’clock only to find it under heavy security. The fortress, our local guide found out, was receiving a visit from members of the royal family, so we had to wait until they left the main courtyard and temple. For several minutes, we were unceremoniously shuffled from one entrance to the next until we were finally allowed in at the very last one. However, just as we thought we had made it, we were stopped at the main courtyard and made to wait while the royal retinue walked to the temple and turned around again to leave the palace.

By then, we had all seen enough pictures of the royal family to know exactly who we saw crossing the courtyard: the queen, as well as the oldest and the second-oldest queen mothers (all of Jigme Singye’s wives hold this title despite there being only one biological mother to the current king). Standing at the very front of the amassing crowd, we attracted the attention of Queen Mother Dorji Wangmo; I am not sure whether to ascribe this to Karma’s metronomically regular low bows or my dad’s wearing a traditional Bhutanese gho he had bought at a store in Thimphu.

Be that as it may, the Queen Mother approached us with a smile and an inquisitive look. She asked where we were from, responding that she loved Prague when she visited it on her birthday. Apparently, the date coincided with a musical festival that had left a deep impression on her. She also made a little joke at my dad’s expense, speaking a few words of Dzongkha at him, which left him scrambling for the few scraps we had picked up during our stay. I am told the Bhutanese are great pranksters who revel in practical jokes.

Interestingly, it was precisely Dorji Wangmo who first broke the taboo of the Zhabdrung’s murder in one of her books. Seventy years after the event, she related the family tradition according to which the Zhabdrung was strangled to death. Having met the Queen Mother, I can say I was not entirely surprised to hear that it was she who broke the ice. She had an independent and intelligent air about her, which perhaps explains why she was entrusted with overseeing the construction of the 108 chortens we saw yesterday at Dochula Pass.

When we entered the temple that the royals had just left, we found it filled with young male monks in their traditional red cloaks. They were still reciting prayers for the royal family, though some more assiduously than others: I noticed two young monks at the edge of the group laughing about something while looking in our direction.

After finishing our visit to the Punakha Dzong, we ate lunch and set off again. The inauspicious weather forecast was coming true as we made our way on foot to Chimi Lhakhang, a monastery founded by the mad monk Drukpa Kuenley. The revered cleric claimed to help women achieve enlightenment through sex, and his many adventures have converted him into something of a folk hero. According to one legend, he poked a demoness’s eye out with his erect penis and later converted her to the Buddhist faith.

Such and other stories also explain the decorations on nearby houses: many feature massive penises, often at the moment of ejaculation. Phallus trinkets of all sizes are also sold at many shops in the neighbourhood, and they resemble the actual decorations of the Chimi Lhakhang temple: to the side of Drukpa Kuenley, for example, stands a massive wooden penis wrapped in a white ribbon. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the temple is often visited by couples that are having problems conceiving.

Again, we arrived at this temple during prayer recital. It was a sublime event. The dark clouds had not yet gathered, but as the rain kept drizzling and the monks hummed away their monotonous prayers, the thunderous crashes of the drums sounded like the distant footsteps of an approaching dragon. I struggle to find an appropriate likeness for the deep melodies of woodwind instruments wildly chasing each other’s rises and falls.

Our last stop for the day – before it rained so hard that the entire town blacked out – was at the Wolakha Nunnery. The institution was founded by the parents of Jigme Singye’s four wives, who I understand were not a widely beloved couple. Perhaps it is for this reason that a memorial stupa has already been prepared for the mother despite her still being alive.