It was close to a quarter of a century back that it all began…..
My late Dad would insist that I visit the community Lhakhang (Temple/Monastery) in Taagma village - my ancestral home and birthplace - every time I was home to visit him in Tingtibi.
So it was that one time I drove up to the Lhakhang to offer my prayers. The Lhakhang Caretake saw me arrive …. he hastily scurried in to open the temple door. After I was done doing my 6 prostrations to Aum Pelden Lhamo, supposedly our village’s protecting deity, I stood in front of the alter lined with statues of Gods and Goddesses.
The final act that completes the process of offering prayers to the Gods is that you offer Ngendar - a cash offering. But I was truly overawed by the scene in front of me – that of the statues of a number of Gods and Goddesses shimmering in all their finery – decked in silk and brocade and adorned with jewelry of gold and precious stones such as Pearls, Cat’s-Eyes and Coral and Gemstones of various colors, shapes and sizes.
I am thinking ….. Oh my dear Gods, what can I, a poor man, offer you? You are already abundant with so much riches.
But I do have to complete the process. Thus, I pulled out a Nu.100.00 note and placed it inside the offering box in front of the statues – as my Ngendar.
The formalities duly completed, the caretaker and I headed for his dwellings for a cup of tea that he insisted I must have. Upon entering his one-bedroom home, I noticed that there were a number of tin bowls placed at various locations on the floor. I asked him why the bowls were spread all across the floor.
“The roof leaks …. So I place the bowls in order to prevent rainwater from splattering all over the floor.”
I looked at him in amazement. Only then did I notice that the man had no shoes on his feet …. and his Gho was threadbare and patched up at a number of places. I did not say anything - but as I got up to leave, I handed Nu.3,000.00 to his wife who was sitting by the hearth, serving us tea.
And, this is something I have done ever since - for the past 25 years or so - offer Nu.100.00 to the Gods and Nu.3,000.00 to their Care Taker couple - twice every year.
But I was disturbed by the experience. Upon reaching Tingtibi, I told my Dad of the pathetic condition of the Care Taker - I told him that I would like to build a small dwelling for the couple - something that did not leak - with one bedroom, one Choesham, one common room with kitchen …. and a porch. I asked if he knew anyone who could undertake the task. He said he did …. So next day we closed the deal with a carpenter from our village - to build the dwelling for the poor Care Taker couple.
This year, yet again, I was in Tingtibi to attend the Bhutan Bird Festival that was being held there during mid-November, 2024. True to tradition, although my Dad is no longer alive, I visited the community Lhakhang in Taagma, nonetheless. After the offering of prayers and the prostrations and the customary Nu.100.00 Ngendar, the Care Taker and his wife and I sat down on the periphery wall of the temple - to talk of this and that, over a cup of tea. Suddenly, the wife said;
“Repa ngat lo warey - I will come back in a minute”.
Upon return, she said:
“Yishi Dooji …. I am now 85 years old and I can sense that my health is failing me - I may not be here next year when you come visiting. Thus - I want to leave this for you - this is the only thing that I have of any value to my name”.
“Osokai ngat na Pon gey Nungpamen wen - this was gifted to me by the King”.
“When I die, I don’t know who will take it or what will become of it - so now that you are here - I want to give it to you as my Shuijab (parting gift) for your kindness to me and my husband over the years”.
What she gently placed in my palm was the following:
Nu.100.00 Coronation Coin of His Majesty the Vth King of Bhutan, 2008
I accepted it without a murmur because I realized that this was a tender moment of great poignancy - a moment of realization, and acceptance, that her time in this world may be coming to an end.
As I drove back to Tingtibi, I was overcome with a sense of Déjà vu - I mean I have lived this moment before.
Hours before my Mom passed away sometime in the 70’s – that is exactly what she did – held my hand in hers and inserted her gold ring into my finger and whispered:
“Know that I go a happy person - happy in the knowledge that I had a son like you. I leave this ring as my Shuijab to you - wi amai drin jorpa warey.”
Within hours – she breathed her last.
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