Folklore of Bhutan: Origin, Forms and Thematic Significance

Abstract

This paper tries to identify the origin, types and some recurrent themes in the Bhutanese folklores. It posits Bhutanese folklore as an important national identity with an innate value system that nourishes the very soul of this tiny Kingdom amidst giant neigbours at a time when everything we have achieved so far could yet be lost. For being a vehicle of transmission of time honoured national ideals and standards, the paper proposes the preservation and promotion of Bhutanese folklore for all times to come by bringing out its thematic significance and the artistic treatment that it has received in each of the folk genre which in itself is of much value.

Folk traditions: Sometimes we must let them die

I initially imagined this as a one-line preface to a paper that I have written on the folklores of Bhutan. Then some reflections struck me that could make this piece an essay by itself. It is about some elements in our society that we conveniently cling to as parts of our tradition, but are actually excuses for our debased ways. As it is, not all that are old are gold.

Evolution dictated that we lived our lives by certain principles and standards. Over time, these became a way of life for us.

Teachers are born, not made?

I wrote this essay as part of a competition by the same title. Nothing came out it...

An old Bhutanese adage says that if it is a champion racehorse, it will show early just as a great person will manifest stellar endowments very early in his life. It follows that greatness is born, not made. Human history is replete with cases of people who stood out from the crowd because of qualities unique to them. In the survival of the fittest, what is passed on to you naturally surpass what you have acquired through years’ of pure hard work. There is often no time.

More than a man: An essay on the Bhutanese woman

This essay was published in the second edition of Yeewong Magazine as the best entry on the theme of gender equality

Growing up in my family, I became used to looking up to my mother and other women members as equal partners in all family matters. If anything, they were the dominant ones. My mother always led as would a matriarch elephant. We followed in her footstep, secure in the knowledge that she was strong. Others chipped in whenever called for. Every body had our own roles , suited to our aptitude and attitude alike.

Now, people might think my father was dead or if not, he was a useless fella. But he was neither. In fact he was the pillar behind my mother's strength. He was there, strong and confident in himself. That may be why he never needed to prove to any body that he was the man of the house. There need not be a thing like that. And he was perfectly fine with having the woman rule the roost.

the morbid writer

It is true, to a large extent, that everybody has a book in him. He just needs the polish of language to bring it out. But some people can stretch this logic a little too much. This is exactly what got to one good friend of mine. He left his business that was giving him a good return, and nagged his live-in partner until she was ready to ditch him. The last time we met, he had moved in to his car with his maid. He was living a gypsy life, penniless. He came down to town during the day and by night, drove up to Buddhagang. It had been his routine for the best part of a month. And he always had his pen and an open book.

After the break up, he had forgone almost all of his earnings from a two years' fruitful venture. Great! One might think, but then a devil had possessed him then. All he took was the car his Dad had gifted him just a few days earlier and which he couldn’t even drive safely. He couldn’t care less though. He was on a great adventure, the daredevil he hoped to become for his upcoming book.

I knew exactly when he would call me; when he had run out of money, or of fuel. The saga continued for a few depressing weeks, even for me. I am not sure if he realized that his action was causing more harm than he had bargined for, not only to himself but also to others who cared for him. I would try in vain to persuade him to do something, perhaps even return to his father who was quite willing to take him back. But no, he wanted substance for his book, or at least a watered down screen play version of it, on which he had already started working.

Unfortunately, it is not just his tale. I know many people who seriously think they have the stuff of a best seller in them and who are quite willing to work on a suitable vocabulary for it. A few idle by, with drinks and more drinks, an occasional girl and the regular trips behind bar. All, of course, to enrich themselves with experiences worth telling the world. The tragic charm they hope to wield around the world, even if it is just deranged gibberish. After all, what is there to write about in a life of a good boy who grows up to become just another ordinary man? May be one can still write a book on the great feelings he has or just his contorted psychology, but then, every other man knows all about it. It would not make much of a book.

I should think it is nothing new though. Ever since men have acquired the command of words, they have been dying to tell the world their side of the story. Samuel Johnson, the author of the first English dictionary denied all the prospects of a good life because he knew that he had to tell the world a compelling story, of a morbid life, to be noticed. He did succeed, albeit with tragic consequences for him and his dear ones. But many others have not achieved even that.

As I take my first tottering steps toward a writing future, I know it would be so easy to fall in this trap of trying to show off more than what is mine. It is always tempting to sensationalize, embellish facts with fiction, truth with lies, all to get noticed, to be in the eye every time. I know I will do well to stick with the choice I will make any time now, when I can still claim sanity; to be a good man, more than a great, false writer; a psychopathic writer!

Thimphu: Making (Breaking) of our dream capital city

(This is an article I wrote as part of my course in RIM and had been published in the institute's newsletter afterwards)

Thimphu City is a melting pot of people, culture and ideas. At least five different ethnicities live here harmoniously. They weave their lives around a central national theme while acknowledging their diversity and rejoicing in it. It is located in along the flat fertile Wang valley. It is said that when modern governance was introduced in the country, some of the most learned Gurus said that Thimphu must be the capital if it has to work. Today, it is the seat of the Central Government and our much revered Monarchs'. “The way we build Thimphu is the way we build the image of the country… It defines the idea of the Bhutanese Dream” (TCC, 2005). One might add that it will determine the fate of our much vaunted Gross National Happiness. It is a reflection of the hopes, aspirations and dreams of the people. If a capital declines and decays, so does the nation. Ancient Rome disintegrated when its people could not agree on its capital’s future while the dynamic United States of America emerged around Washington D.C.
Realizing this, the Royal Government introduced an ambitious plan to make Thimphu “the dream city of every Bhutanese” and, indeed, that of the world’s. The Thimphu Structural Plan was initiated in 1998 in line with His Majesty’s far sighted vision for the country.
It is a living plan, not a static document that will guide the numerous incremental projects and improvements, such that the small parts assemble into a beautiful and efficient whole. The Structure Plan identifies investments in the form of projects which can be taken up when they are prioritized (ibid).
The structure plan, if implemented, should see through the development process of Thimphu as a progressive capital city. Bhutan’s future would be secured with its capital’s.
Unfortunately, today the plan is going through a rough phase. For the residents of the city (which amount to one fifth of the nation’s population) and other well wishers of the country, the plan would not take place well enough. Then, there are some interest groups who grumble that Thimphu is getting a disproportionately high share of the nation’s resources. They would rather divert all the resources to the countryside, which in itself is arguable. And we have yet another group which cannot get over its nostalgia of having seen Thimphu as a hamlet with jungles and paddy fields, though they conveniently choose to ignore its impoverishment.
In this conflict of interests, there can be no winners. But we risk putting at stake the future of our capital city and with it, the country’s very survival. If its capital falls, the country will too. After all, Thimphu is Bhutan in nutshell. We have the best of Bhutan here, in all its diverse spirit, not to mention the people of all its twenty Dzongkhags.
The sooner we accept that our future as a nation depends on a dynamic Thimphu, the better it will be for all of us. Self interest, regional biases and dogmatic principles can only lead to ruins. If we trust the judgment of our visionary Monarchs, which of course all the doubting Thomases swear by, then we should have no doubt that Thimphu is the best possible place to build our capital city. After all, they were the ones who chose it.
I would love to relocate the capital in my home town, or better still, where my entire land holding is registered. If that happened, my family possesses enough property to last a life time, and more. But that is exactly the feelings that we must fight against, in ourselves and in others. Our country will be the best it can be only when it makes the best choices based on our real potentials. Thimphu has been established beyond reasonable doubt to be the best choice available to us.
There is often an argument, no doubt playing to populist views that Thimphu get more resources than any other Dzongkhags and that the further you are from Thimphu, the lesser your share gets. It is claimed that not enough is being done for the remote places located days’ away from the nearest road head. It is also popular to say that still more resources need to be poured in to our marginal farms. To a great extent, these are all true. But the choices that we make must be to give ourselves the best chance to be competitive in this world which has no place in it for any second bests.
Any reasonable policy must identify areas of strength for a country and invest in it, at the cost of others, if necessary. Areas that got little potential and are financially unsustainable must necessarily be forgone. Its population must be moved to places where they would stand to be productive, not just receivers of state freebies.
These are hard decisions and would be made only by those governments which have popular backing of the masses. Sadly, our decision makers are now getting bogged down by populist politics and do not always make decisions which are seemingly in our best interest. Pressure is on to divert more funds towards the country side. So, while the city’s area has increased from 8 sq km in 2003 to 26 km sq km today, it still functions with the same amount of staffs and resources (Lamzang, 2009).
It is a serious concern as we are still dependent on aid and do not have enough resources to satisfy every whim. We are spreading our resources too thin. While the countryside is no better with a few extra lakhs, the infrastructure in our capital and other strategic hubs are not able to keep pace. As a result, Thimphu today has potholes for roads, dust bowls for town centres, shacks for government headquarters, dogs for guard and lacks most urban facilities for our youth. We do not get to host even basic international events in spite of our potential as the most peaceful country. The AFC Cup qualifiers which were scheduled in Bhutan and which would have given Bhutan much needed investment opportunities got cancelled because we did not have even the basic infrastructure.
The most shameful thing in this whole affair is the fact that Bhutanese opinion leaders (mostly mid-level academics and civil servants) condemn Thimphu for its urban degeneration. They instigate foreigners in believing that Thimphu is not Bhutan. They either fail to see or are too biased to see that their hate campaigns are bringing about this degeneration in the first place. They fight for farm roads in their villages, but for rare visits, they never use it. This is a drain on the limited resources we have, not to mention the environment.
One gets a feeling that when people come to believe that they will never own a property in Thimphu, they become prejudiced against it. It soothes their jealous souls to spoil the party for everybody else too. It would be brilliant if we could tell ourselves that we will ensure that when we are able to afford it, Thimphu’s real estate is still worth having and that, in fact, it would be the best in the world.

PS. Since the time I have written this, Thimphu has changed. The nation's future depend on it more now than ever. But not all the changes have been pleasant. And with the imminent withdrawal of foreign aids confronting us, we can no longer be wasteful in our actions. We got to put our money where our mouth is, and make the best of our limited opportunity. It's all very well being romantic about our countryside and the folks who inhabit them. But come to think of it, and their real strenght always laid in their uniqueness, tranquility and integrity. The monster of develpoment that we are taking there now will destroy everything that is good just like the tortorous raods that bring only destruction, of every kind. The benefit will never quite match up to the investment we make except for the politically minded. Every other dzonkhags must find their own niche development projects and should not hope to become another Thimphu. Thimphu must always remain the seat of power and every thing that comes with it. We must earnestly help in building that wherever our allegiances are.
We are less than seven hundred thousand of us. We don't need to irreparably scar every nook and corner of our fragile land...It's much better we consolidate our blessings, stay close and develop where it is much better suited. I know people will differ from me on a lot of things, but please try thinking along my lines if you can.

random

I live a life…

I am happy with my life…

Until I realise that is not exactly what I was hoping for. It goes this way. It ends up in Bhutan Observer’s news room. It stifles until I decide enough is enough and get out. It meanders on a way of its own again, until it ends up 27th on the RCSC civil service exams. It wasn’t what I set out on…but in life, one must sometimes learn to wait on our course, think hard, about the things that have fallen on our path and about the things that we expect of life but never quite come off…and so I decide that for once, I heed life’s call…take what it has to offer and bide my time for the good things I know are mine.

In a small building removed from life…I meet my destination…It’s a brand new life…It’s life in the service of the nation, its people and their leaders…It is a life destined for stifling academics and scholarly lot…It’s spring in my life…I enjoy my civil service goodies…handsome pay, top security, Dell laptop and many travels, in and out of country…besides being the ’Sir’ of all junior civil servants and the business minded others. I almost get used to this new life.

And then I get the call to action…off I go…in search of destiny, of my own and every other Bhutanese whose faith is Gross National Happiness. But it is a god forsaken place out there…little prospect, and just too many mouths. GNH is solace for them if in life, spirituality is more important than development, wealth, prosperity…for they have none, and none may come to them in their life time…they had to either get used to poverty and be happy or they get out of the place and move towards a brighter life…Life here confuses…it drowns you in alcohol, drugs and everything else that deludes.

I get back, shaken and confused, drunk and feeling content, not quite real, but true…I screw a little, get booked, get hanged, get out of my mind, feel dumped and drained of all my life and its many prospects.

But in life, one must get up as quickly as one falls…that is what every good book and what everybody who writes them tells…I try to do that, pick myself up, dust out the shames, and ramble on quite randomly…It’s what comes first in my mind that finds itself processed…it is blasphemy, it’s dirty linen in the open.

If environment spoils, it mends too…I am at a stage where I might yet come back, to see another day, find another hope and build another life…of my choice.

self study

Growing up, there is an ideal world you want to make for yourself. You dream about it awake, and the heaven seems to come together to make it for you. All you need to do is study hard, do everything the good books say you need to do...and it's all sundry. The environment seem ideal, you have your family firm behind you, the teachers at call anytime you need them, and all the facilities you could care for at your disposal, thanks be to the benevolent leaders.
That is the world. With the world behind you, you couldn't, but think that you will be somebody to reckon with...that the world is yours to have. You are infallible. There is nothing you can't do, with a little bit of work and care.
And so with a jolly pure heart, you go about your business, confident in your stride and up for everything, always in good faith. You think the world is for you to make better, the people are for you to redeem.

You could never believe that you will grow up to be like the bully headmaster, or the idiot cop. You believe with a pure hearth that you won't drink and come home to a violent house that has become your neighbour's, or you won't for god's sake, pile on those fats that is aorund your brother's waist. And you couldn't in your wildest dream think that you will treat people unequally or that you will be your boss's yes man...that you will use office money and adjust public reources to fill up the dent you have created in your bank balance because of your lavish tendencies or to satiate your greed...You could never be corrupt, because when you are so good, you never need be corrupt...the world will fall on your feet...You are invincible
However, reality strikes home soon enough though...You forget your way and can't see through a maze that the world creates. You loses your sense, your will, your faith and everything else...You see the working of the world and you know there is only so far you can get, going on your own way. Your way must follow other's, all too often. You realize that every person is just like you when they begin; true, honest and sincere in their effort. It is the world and its murky ways that changes them.

Before you know, you are doing everything that you could never imagine doing when you are on the fence and watching. The books are good, so they have allowed people to wield them to their convenience. There is a norm that has come to be in the organization that you have just joined long before you were even aware of its existence. It suits the way of the people in there. So they let it be, and expect you to do the same.

Things that were clear, good and bad, dos and don't, right and wrong suddenly becomes just a little murkier. It is no longer the same world that you watched from your privileged ring-side seat all this while. When you are in, everything's grey. There is no scruple, no qualm, no vision...it is nonsense, it pays you to be so. Be on the right side of the powers-that-be, learn to scratch the right spots an lo! you can do all wrong and yet always come out on top.

But these are exactly the times, when you got to look deep inside you, to see where you are wrong, where you need to hold your own, look out for the times when you are on your own, to be true to your core. It's time for introspection, self-study.