‘Why was this chorten built?’ I asked with keen anticipation. Was there going to be another story? Yes, apparently there was.
‘Lama Shida from Tibet had this chorten built to cover the remains of an evil spirit that was killed at this very spot,’ said Kinlay, as we continued our walk past beautifully carved mani stones that stood regally by the side of the chorten.
The miracle man Lotay made some tea and we sat on the grass to enjoy a short tea break. Wherever we went, the Chinese flask with hot water accompanied us.
It’s a very ugly but efficient flask. A cork bungs up the mouth and it is unceremoniously wrapped up in silver foil to give it an airtight fit. Amazingly, the water remains piping hot for at least 12 hours. For the next five years, this little magical invention would keep me going with my morning tea in my polar tent. It didn’t matter where we were, but that most prized possession would appear in my tent or room, night after night, thanks to Lotay.
Finally, we leave Chendebji and continue down the valley through a forest of hemlock. We are blessed with no rain today and we are driving at a good speed.
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Kinlay points to a waterwheel chorten as we cross Tsangkha and explains that unlike other chortens, it is hollow and contains a large prayer wheel and is built near a stream so that the water turns a turbine below the structure, which then turns the prayer wheel.
‘This water is blessed by Tseringma, the goddess of long life and music. She is also seen on the lutes we call dranyen,’ Kinlay’s voice is animated. ‘This valley is known for people with beautiful voices, in fact most travellers drink this water not so much to quench their thirst, but more to acquire a good voice!’
‘Okay, I take the bait!’ I laughed. ‘How can a smoker resist such an offer!’
***
‘They are temporary migrants from India, especially Indian Marwaris who run businesses for the Bhutanese from Central Bhutan.’
We walk down Tharpai Lam, which has a cinema and many shops and restaurants.
I am really amused when we turn into Thuen Lam—‘One side of this street is in Bhutan and the other is India,’ said Tshering. It is dusk when we walk out of the decorative Bhutan Gate into the town of Jaigaon in India. We climb into a rickshaw and go for a joy-ride through this bustling and crowded market on the Indian side.
‘I can smell India,’ I laughed. ‘Bhutanese and Indians can cross over freely as long as they return home by 10 pm,’ said Tshering.
‘How would they know if someone doesn’t return?’
‘They don’t I suppose.’
‘The Torsa Chhu flows west of Phuentsholing and in its upper reaches is known as the Amo Chhu, which has its headwaters in Tibet’s Chumbi Valley,’ Kunzang explained. ‘And on the opposite side of the river is the home of the Lhop tribe, also known as the Doya in the Samtse district.’
Kinlay clarified, ‘To access Samtse town, which is closed to tourists, we drive through the Indian state of West Bengal and then loop back into Bhutan.’‘That’s strange, you mean you cannot access Samtse by car within Bhutan?’‘Not yet, though a road is planned in the future,’ said Kunzang.