A LOST HORIZON

Evening Star, Issue 22816, 26 November 1937, Page 13

A LOST HORIZON

FASCINATING BHUTAN UNSPOILT BY THE WEST Bhutan, stretching for some 200 miles along the southern slopes of the Himalayas, lies between Assam and Tibet, its western frontier marching with Sikkim, writes John Davie in the ‘ Sphere.’ The inhabitants, very similar in appearance to their Tibetan neighbours, were converted to Buddhism in the eighth century by an Indian saint, Padma Sambhava, generally known in Bhutan as Guru Rimpoche. When Sir Ugyen Wangchuk was appointed first hereditary Maharajah in 1907 centuries of internal strife came to an end, and in 1915 a treaty was signed with the Government of India by which the latter undertook responsibility for the foreign relations of Bhutan on condition that they in no way interfered with her internal affairs. Determined to preserve their independence, the Bhutanese have closed their frontiers to Europeans, and they can be crossed only at the invitation of the Maharajah. Yet few indeed are they who have been privileged to cross the frontiers of this forbidden land. There are probably fewer than 40 Europeans alive to-day who have seen the wonders of this enchanting country still .completely untouched by Western civiliation. It was therefore with some feeling of excitement that we received the Maharajah, His Highness Sir, Jigme Wangchuk, accompanied by his wife and bodyguard of Bhutanese soldiers, at Government House, Calcutta, on his first visit to the outside world. He greatly enjoyed himself, seeing trains and motor cars for the first time, and before leaving he invited His Excellency Sir John Anderson to pay a return visit to his country during the following months. It was my privilege to accompany His Excellency on this journey. So it cam© about that, mounting our ponies, we left Gangtok, the Sikkim capital, on our 200-mile journey through Tibet and Bhutan. A BAGGAGE TRAIN. Every article that w© might need during the next three weeks had to be taken with us, necessitating, in addition to 15 riding ponies, a baggage train of more than 50 mules. Crossing the Tibetan frontier by the Nattin La, from where, at 14,400 ft, one of the finest views in that part of the world can be obtained, wo rode on along the beautiful Clmmbi Valley by the banks of the Amo Chu to Yatung, where we arrived on the third evening. Two days later we'arrived on the Phari plain, surrounded by herds of yaks grazing under the shadow of Ohomolhari, the sacred mountain _ of Tibet. One of the most beautiful mountains in the world, Chomolhari rises, cone-shaped and snow-covered almost to the foot, 10,000 ft out of the middle of the plain, giving it a total height of nearly 24,000 ft. Phari itself, generally known as the highest town in tho world, is certainly the dirtiest. With a night temperature of eight degrees of frost at the beginning of October and an icy wind howling across the plain by day, the inhabitants consider washing superfluous. Drains are unknown and all rubbish is thrown on the narrow streets. These, after many years of such treatment, are raised far above the ground floor level, necessitating a fight of steps down to the entrance of the houses. Three miles from Phari lay tho Bhutanese frontier, crossed at 16,500 ft by a pass known as the Trcmo La. Reaching the summit, an astonishing sight awaited us. Behind us in the freezing cold lay the Phari plain, bleak and treeless, ravished by an icy wind. Before ns, wo gazed down upon the wondrous beauty of the wooded hills and valleys of Bhutan, bathed in sunshine. On reaching our camp at Sharma we had climbed 2,000 ft and droped 6,000 ft in. 18 miles.

THE TIGER’S 1 NEST. The following day was largely devoted to a visit to the monastery of Tak Thsang, or the Tiger’s nest, which could be seen thousands of feet above us. Perched on a ledge of rock cut into the face of a perdendicular cliff 2,000 ft high, it must be one of the most remarkable buildings in the world. Guru Rimpoche, the founder of the Lamaist religion in Bhutan, when he visited that country riding, according to local tradition, on a tiger, retired for a time into meditation at this spot, and round the cave in which be dwelt this monastery was constructed. Immense labour must have been required to build it, for after a three-hour climb from tho bottom of the valley the only approach for the last half-mile is a narrow ledge, little more than a yard wide, running along the face of the cliff. Met by the head Lama, we were refreshed 'with Tibetan tea and saffron rice, and then conducted over the monastery. A number of shrines dedicated to Guru Rimpoche were fitted into the recesses in the rocks, and in one of them, stored in an enormous urn, were the remains of Rimpoche’s teacher. Curious little balconies, on which we were careful to put no weight, hung cut over the cliff, so that as .you looked down over the loose rail nothing lay between you and the bottom of the cliff 2,000 ft below. We were now only eight miles from Pare. This was the objective of our journey and the home of the Paro Penlop, who, after the Maharajah, is the greatest chieftain in Bhutan. Ho had arranged a great welcome for us. Turning a corner some four miles from Paro, we were startled by tho report of cannon, and saw before us, drawn up in line, a hundred of tho Penlop’s soldiers and retainers. It is impossible to describe tho beauty of that line of dazzling colour. The soldiers, with their quaint, medieval accoutrements, were dressed in silken costumes, blue and yellow, green and scarlet, plum and coral, knee length and girdled at the waist. The blue and yellow trappings that surrounded a helmet of shining steel fell as a protection over neck and shoulders. LOOKED LIKE CRUSADERS, A round wooden shield with metal bosses was slung across the back, while every man carried two fulllength swords, one in a silver sheath slung at the side ready for immediate use, and the other, sheathed in hide, slung behind, wrapi>ed in a bag of coloured cloth. In the centre of the lino were the colours and a pipe band. As wo rode up tho line every man bowed low, so that a wave appeared to pass from one end to the other, and it seemed that th© centuries had slipped back and we were witnessing an inspection of crusaders in the Holy Land. An alfresco lunch had been prepared for us, and while we ate the Penlop’s two private dancers, accompanied by two trumpeters, danced l before us. Like the soldiers, they were gorgeously dressed, their legs, bare below the knee, displaying the wonderfully developed calves so characteristic of the Bhutanese. In the right hand they carried a double hand drum, beaten as it was turned by knots on the ends of attached leather -strings. These they twirled in perfect unison as they revolved gracefully before us. The procession was now formed that was to lead us into Paro. A column of 80 soldiers, with pipe, hand and colours, led the way. Behind them came the two dancers, who danced unceasingly with th© same perfect rhythm the whole four miles to Paro. After the dancers came His Excellency, surrounded by a personal bodyguard, riding on a gaily decorated pony specially sent for him by the Penlop. The whole procession winding its way along beside the river presented a brilliant spectacle of medieval pageantry. A FORTRESS HOME. Paro Dzong, the fortress home of th© Paro Penlop, soon came into view, a square massive building of great size standing on a rocky mound overlooking tho river. Below th© Dzong stood th© Guest House, and to the entrance of this, along an avenue of flags through dense crowds of villagers, our

procession made its way. At tile entrance our host awaited us. Heavily built, with marked Mongolian features, he was as genial a being as one could wish to meet. In Bhutan, a.s well as in Tibet, th© exchange of white silk scarves takes the place of our European handshake on greeting and leave-taking. When saying good-bye both parties wave their scarves and emit strange cries, which, echoing through the hills, continue till they are out of sight. The exchange of presents is another essential rule of etiquette when visiting in Bhutan. This has become so expensive a matter that the chieftains of Bhutan visit each other as little as possible. The Pare Penlop, though 35 yc&TS of go, has never travelled beyond, "the confines of his own valley. Next morning th© whole ceremonial procession arrived at the Guest House to conduct us to the I>zong. Winding our way up the hill, we came to the main entrance of the fort, where, at the foot of a massive flight of steps laid with a red carpet, stood the Penlop. After exchanging scarves and greetings, the procession of more than 100 men moved np the steps into the courtyard of the XXzong. Her© for two hours we witnessed devil dancing as fine as any to be seen in the Buddhist world, and of a quality seldom seen by European eyes. DANCE OF THE LAMAS; First came the Lama’s dance, performed by monks of the Pare monastery. It was the most impressive and most dignified of the whole performance. Some 20 lamas filed into the court; men of fine physique and stately hearing, . they were dressed in long silken cloaks of gorgeous colour, reaching to the ground. Each carried some instrument, and the rhythm of the drums and the clashing cymbals, combined with the deep bass notes of the radongs, held us fascinated, so incomparably finer was it than anything we had heard of the kind before. Lamas and soldiers dressed as cemetery ghouls, hulls, stags, and other queer creatures followed one another in succession, keeping perfect time together as they twirled and leapt about the court. Later we followed the Penlop into lunch, a meal of rice, tnpe, and vak’s meat. For the afternoon an archery competition had been arranged. This is a sport of which the Bhutanese are particularly foud, and on this day they had assembled from all over the Paro Valley to match their skill. Our seats, contrary to the usual practice, were arranged midway between marksman and target, giving us an unpleasantly close view of the arrow whilst in flight. _________