The snazzy Drukair plane slides through what seems to be a narrow gap between the green mountains and comes to a halt in front of the quaint terminal at Paro Airport, Bhutan. Smiling officials wave us past their desks, for Indians are favoured visitors, qualifying for a visa-on-entry. Our currency is accepted everywhere, at a value equal to theirs. So, we can quit worrying about costs, and multiplying the numbers on price tags by 60 or 100. Indians are also exempt from the $250-a-day fee that tourists from other countries must pay. We love Bhutan already!
Pleasant guides and drivers clad in the traditional gho greet us, and we drive out into a misty road, drinking in the picture-postcard view. Lovely grey-green mountains loom in the distance and a sparkling river splashes alongside the road.
“ Dense forests in the south and the Himalayas in the north protect us,” says our guide. “We are one of the few countries that have never been conquered - by the Chinese, the Muslims or the British.”
Time seems to have lost its power in this country of mists and myths. The tiger, the lion, the thunder dragon and the eagle Garuda are said to watch over the land. Monasteries, built in the fortress-like dzong style , nestle like jewels amidst the green expanse. The popular Punakha Dzong, built at the confluence of the Mo Chhu and Pho Chhu rivers, boasts of a bodhi tree, the tree of nirvana . Huge bee hives hang from the roof of the dzong, symbolising good luck, or at least fresh honey for the monks. Rosy-cheeked apprentice monks scurry around, and run away with a giggle when we try to photograph them.
We hear stories of black-necked cranes that fly clockwise around the monastery in obeisance before they land, and again before they leave. We see a painting of the mermaid of the lake who collected stones to help build the dzong. Then there is the story of Guru Padmasambhava who flew on the back of a tigress to pray at what is now the spectacular Tiger’s Nest Monastery, perched perilously on the side of a cliff, 3,000 feet above the valley floor. The Guru is said to have meditated here for three years, three months, three weeks, three days and three hours, and vanquished the tiger demon.
The gilded bronze Buddha on the hills of Thimphu watches over his domain with a benign eye, ensuring prosperity and peace. “There are three Buddhas during every cycle of life, and each reigns for 4,000 years,” says our guide and adds, “This one is the Buddha of today, who will stay with us for another 2,500 years, when he will be succeeded by the Buddha of tomorrow. After him, the world will come to an end.”
The hard-to-reach Gangtey Valley offers fabulous trekking routes and silvery streams to dip our feet in. We click away frantically as we drive through Himalayan passes, attempting to capture the drop-dead gorges in our cameras and cell phones. There are very few people around and we could well imagine ourselves travelling on the moon in our buggies, navigating craters on the bone-rattling roads.
We are close to nature and all its creatures. We spot chubby yaks, caterwauling ravens and dive-bombing sparrows. A crackling wood fire heats up our hotel room during the cold nights. A fluffy grey cat calls imperiously at our room door at 5 a.m. and asks to be let in.
No cigarettes are bought or sold here. Health and education are free and even a toddler speaks in English, which is their medium of instruction. The tourist fee discourages vandals, and strict laws safeguard the environment. There is no television or phone in our room in Gangtey. We are far removed from commerce and communication as we know it. It is a haven for those who want to go back to the days of rural quietude. You can hike, watch birds, raft down rivers or take hot stone baths. But now, a little word of warning!
Bhutan is not really ideal for the urbanite who is addicted to the Internet and to modern-day comforts. So introspect before you pack your bags. Do you want to turn the clock back?
