Last
Saturday was our school Rimdro or Purification Ritual. This was not the first
Rimdro I have been a part of but it did begin in a way I have never witnessed
before.
On
Friday evening we were all invited to return to school for the Gangtey
ceremony, which is performed to dispel demons.
When
I arrived in my school bus with the monks who were about to conduct the
rituals, many of the female staff had not yet left school. They had been busy
since lunch time trying to turn 30 kilos of flour into the delicious Bhutanese
‘biscuit’ called “tshozay” which would be consumed along with tea and added to
the offerings for the ritual the following day. Just as the monks began chanting
and playing their cymbals, drums, trumpets and long horns, the electricity went
out and we all sat in complete silence and darkness while they continued.
When
the ceremonies got underway I was warned that there would be loud shouting and
whistling to frighten demons and sure enough boarder boys appeared as if from
nowhere and the noise was deafening. Soon enough my colleague was once again whispering
in my ear that there would be fire and sure enough 2 masked monks appeared and
performed dances brandishing flaming torches.
In
the pitch dark those same 2 masked monks raced from the hall with a group of
very willing boys also armed with flaming torches in close pursuit.
I
think I can confidently say that I was the only person present in the slightest
bit concerned that they were all wearing the highly flammable, synthetic
tracksuits they had received that same week as a part of their uniform.
The
monks who had been on the stage miraculously regrouped in complete darkness at
the entrance to the hall to provide the musical accompaniment required while the
purifying smoke from those flaming torches enveloped every room of the school.
As
if on cue the electricity returned when the whole process was over and we were
all quietly served tea in the now illuminated hall. There were no injuries or
burned clothes and an extremely excited group of demon dispelling boys
evaporated back into the night air.
The
following morning there was yet again a group of monks assembled, chanting and
creating that unique musical background that I have come to associate with
these ceremonies, in place on the stage of the school hall.
My
all time favourite Bhutanese food – Thukpa was served and I was more than willing
to take second serves even though I had already had breakfast before arriving
at school.
Not
long after, at the assembly it was announced that the finals of the junior
football competition would be played that morning. Not for the first time I was
totally surprised about the way the decision didn’t even raise an eyebrow among
the student cohort. Girls disappeared and reappeared in soccer attire and just
as I was about to head over to the sports ground to watch, I was asked by 2
girls in my class if I could come to our home room.
Unbeknown
to me they had organized a surprise tea party, as it was also my birthday. The
girls who were now about to play in the finals missed out entirely but the most
of the class was there and my concerns about their absence being noticed by the
powers that be were instantly dismissed, since they had obtained permission.
How could I have thought that I would know more than them when it came to
correct protocol?
My
birthday proved to be the worst kept secret in the school and throughout the
day I was flooded with handmade cards and even gifts despite my attempts to
avoid any such behaviour.
While
the party was conducted and the football played the business of the day was
attended to with solemn dignity by the monks and the entire class X cohort, who
joined them all chanting the prayers in the hall all morning.
Students
in small groups were permitted to enter the hall to prostrate, once the
football was over and all were keen to do so.
A
few girls seemed to be taking rather longer than others and when I questioned
them later they were happy to inform me that since they had no money to donate
they could instead offer their energy and so they chose to do 108 prostrations
instead of the usual 5 or so.
Of
course despite the fact that it was the coldest day since we have been in
Samtengang and that the fresh snow clearly visible on the mountain tops that
morning, had quickly been hidden by thick fog and drizzling rain, there was no
shortage of photographic opportunities and students were quick to take up the
“One photo Madam,” cries I remember so well.
An
essential part of the whole day is the serving of endless cups of tea, and
meals. My absence at the staff breakfast was noted (Thukpa was merely the
pre-breakfast snack) and I had to
explain that I had been part of a birthday celebration with my home class, but
no excuses were possible at lunch. The ceremonies came to a halt and monks were
served with veneration in the hall before and we all gathered with the primary
school staff to enjoy a shared lunch. As we ate the monks took to playing
volleyball with any students willing to join them. I love that they can go from
complete dedication and devotion to roll up the robes and have a hit for 30
minutes without batting an eye lid!
At
some unannounced moment everyone simply knew that the grand finale was about to
take place and assembled in the hall to hear the hour-long dissertation from
the lama and once again participate in the howling, shouting and whistling
which is an integral part of this whole ritual.
There
were in the gathered masses those who seemed genuinely devoted and totally
absorbed in the wisdom being dispensed but there were also those who could see
this as the perfect way to let off some steam.
Whichever
way they felt all complied with the behavior code and watched on with interest
as the effigies at the front were systematically removed to far-flung points on
the campus in the cardinal directions.
Volunteers
assisted the monks in performing this essential final step and then once again
unannounced everyone knew it was time to disperse.
At
this point in the late afternoon I took my leave and yet again marveled at the
unique, traditional customs that not only survive but are also a source of
great pride and are avidly adhered to.
The
day and ceremonies ended at that point for me at least.
After
all I had a birthday to celebrate.
