Himalayan Times (1962)

Six Himalayan Times April 8, 1962

tallagersit bouses—wooden
buildings of two or three
rooms, with shuttered
windows (glass being rare)
and stone j>lat forms for
bed.

In the next rest house
where mighty rooks weight-
ed down the wood-shing-
led roof and where fire-
flies sparkled like anima-
ted sequins in the trees
outside, I enjoyed a sound
sleep. I beard in my
dream female giggles and
saw almond eyes peeping
through the shutter cracks.
Next day during my jour-
ney I saw the same eyes
under my bedding that
was oarried by a number
of looal girls.

On the fourth day
I crossed a high moun-
tain ridge into what is
called the dry belt, and
clouds disappeared. Oak
and fir replaced tropioal
trees and I reached the
first settlement of white
plastered houses remines-
oent of Dorian structure
of antiquity. Here terra-
ced fields of rice and
wheat shrugged the moun-
tain sides and here stood
the first dzongs, Bhutan's
combination fortresses and
administrative and reli-
gious centres In archi-
tectural style they resem-
ble the great Potala, Dalai
Lama's palaoe with gold
plated pagodalike roofs
adorned at the corners
with dragon heads; bat
they include more chapels,

sometimes as many as
thirty, eaoh magnificently
painted and brooded over
by a host of deities For
a while I stood dumb
and spellbound in their
perfumed gloom, trying
to grasp the details of
murals, images, and all
the paraphernalia of wor-
ship. In some dzongs the
images loom so large that
their gilded heads are lost
to sight in the upper
shadows. Their hands
could seat a man, and
the murmurtd prayers of
monks in the galleries
overhead give the impres-
sion that the giants live
here and breathe.

The next three days
of my journey I encoun-
tered chiefly trees and
mountains, their peaks
rising higher and higher
toward the north and
their monotony broken by
speotaoular water falls.
In the forests stood banks
of rhododendron, often
festooned with mods. Or-
chids sparkled like jewels
in the unending green.

The jungle on the
other hand vibrated with
bird-songs. One anony-
mous bird Bet up a stran-
gely haunting ory that
rang through the trees.
In the mist it was an
eerio sound—Legend can
hardly be blamed for
labeling it to the voioe
of a lost soul. Often I
rode through clouds of
butterflies so dense that

thousands brushed my
face at one time and then
orushed under my horses
hoofs.

Animals abound in
Bhutan's sky-high forests.
Tigers are seen low ' in
mouutain valleys where
they occasionally kill yaks.
Deer, wild dogs, bears
and mountain sheep are
a oommon eight; but my
greatest thrill having to
do with animals came
later in the ohief monas.
tery where I saw a skin
of the abominal snowman.
As a royal guest I asked
the pelt as a present,
and the monk who knew
nothing of the Western
expeditions for the mys-
terious yeti readily acceded
to my request. I showed
the skip last year to an
authority in the British
Museum and was identi-
fied as that of a blue
.bear.

It now remains for
me to discuss briefly the
controversial probli ms of
polities. Compared to
Bhutan's former rulers
the preeent king is both
a liberal and humanitarian,
and as a result he is
more respected than fea-
red. Previously Bhutan
was governed by a suc-
cession of temporal rulers
and spiritual leaders.
Jigme Dorji Wangohuk is
at heart a reformer, and
this is perhaps due to
his extensive travels in
( Continued en page 7 )