Folktales of Bhutan
Kunzang Choden
Foreword by
Her Royal Highness Princess
Sonam Chhoden Wangchuck
Folktales of Bhutan
Copyright © Kunzang Choden, 1994
First Published 1994
Second edition 2002
by White Lotus Co., Ltd.
Smashwords Edition
eBook Edition published by
DCO Books 2016
Proglen Trading Co., Ltd.
Bangkok Thailand
http://ebooks.dco.co.th
Illustrations by Kunzang Dorji
ISBN 978-616-7817-88-0
All Rights Reserved
Thanks to Edward Stauffer of COMSET
Original typeset by COMSET
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and other elements of the story are either the product of the author's imagination or else are used only fictitiously. Any resemblance to real characters, living or dead, or to real incidents, is entirely coincidental.
To my children
Dolma, Dechen and Dhondup
Contents
Foreword
Preface
Introduction
Part 1 - Folktales
Mimi Heylay Heylay
Tsongpon Dawa Zangpo
The Cuckoo and the Frog
The Hoopoe
The Boys who Went to Buy Cows
The Hen and the Monkey
Aming Niwa
Acho La La
The Tiger and the Frog
The Shepherd
The Mother and the Ghost
Bum Dolay Penzom and Bo Serba Tung Tung
Ashi Dunglidolma
The Princess with Three Breasts
The Adventures of the Poor Boy
Mekhay Doma
Acho Tsagye
The Silly Leopard
Gyalpo Migkarla
Bum Sing Sing Yangdonma
Ap Braphu
The Tale of the Goat’s Tail
The Ghost with the Water Goiter
Ap Rolong
Lame Monkey
Gangze Joy Guma
The Phob that Provided Food
Part 2 - Legends
Demons and Demonesses
Garba Lung Gi Khorlo and the Demoness of Nyala
Yirang Pamo’s Visit to the House of Nyala Dermo
The Ani and the Migoi
The Zah Collector and the Migoi
Mirgola
The Girl who was Swallowed by a Python
The Man who was Saved by a Dragon
The Stewa Rutu and the Elephant
The Woman who would have Eaten a Stewa Rutu
The Spirit of Necorpa
Epilogue
Dingbo must never Catch up with Dangbo
Glossary
The Author
Foreword
By Her Royal Highness Princess Sonam Chhoden Wangchuck
The world at large is quite familiar with the wealth of religious and other literature that exists in Bhutan. What is, however, not equally known or accessible is the rich oral tradition as a source of knowledge. Among ordinary Bhutanese, for whom the transition from oracy to literacy is not yet complete, the oral tradition is a powerful living medium of communication between one generation and the next. It ensures the survival of undocumented knowledge. By relying on the oral tradition, or “Khaju” in Dzonghkha, the “illiterate” Bhutanese have been able to benefit from folktales. In the villages of Bhutan, folktales are still told and people, mostly children, learn from this living tradition.
The art of listening to folktales and retelling them has, in my opinion been an important tool for the development of native eloquence and articulateness which we find in abundance among ordinary Bhutanese. It also enables people to find moral, philosophical, religious, mythical and romantic meaning in the stories.
Since the progress of modernization began some three decades ago there has been rapid change in many aspects of Bhutanese society. Inevitably the crucial role that the oral tradition has played in transmitting knowledge is also likely to decline. There is an apparent danger that the folktales and fables whose deep significance and origins we do not yet fully understand could disappear. It is already apparent that children are reared on folktales from distant places at the expense of local ones, which could begin a process of alienation from the local culture.
Therefore Kunzang Choden’s book is a laudable step towards preservation of a rich and vibrant heritage contained in the little known and hitherto undocumented folktales of Bhutan. Her book should stimulate interest in the young and revive the memories of older generations so that the work of a comprehensive compilation of Bhutanese oral tradition becomes conceivable. It is my great pleasure to compliment the author who is the first Bhutanese person to have written such a book. I strongly recommend this pioneering book to all readers.
S. C. WANGCHUCK
Preface
In the Bhutanese tradition, stories, fables, and legends are not told but are unraveled (shigai in Bumthangkha) and released (tangshi in Dzongkha). To me these concepts of releasing and unraveling are invested with much significance. It means that storytelling is a continuous process (unraveling) and to be released stories must be alive and vibrant. Stories are, therefore, alive and continuous, not only in the minds of those who unravel and those who release them, but also in the minds of those who listen to them being unraveled and released. This oral tradition, transmitted by one generation to another, is thus the continuing and living thread that links one generation to another.
The nine years of childhood spent in Tang Ugen Choling was very short, especially in terms of how much time I could spend with my parents. The duties of feudal lords were by no means simple and a certain amount of dedication and sacrifice was necessary to live through the many intricacies and sensibilities of dealing with human beings, the most important of which was trying to keep everybody contented and the village in harmony. This took up much of my parents’ time. I may have been better off than many of my friends from the village in many ways. But I was certainly deprived of much valuable time with my parents. This was made worse by their untimely deaths. I could be with my parents only at specified times of the day. I had to fill in the rest of the time on my own. So I did what the other children of the village did, and played games rich in fantasy and filled with imagination. Above all I shared one common bond with every child in the village and that was the intense love of stories, legends and fables.
As I reminisce now of the storytelling sessions, I see a circle of adults and children relaxing in the late afternoon sun, in the West Gate field of Ugen Choling naktsang, listening in rapt attention to every word of the storyteller. At other times it was in the evenings, sitting around a charcoal brazier in the flickering light of the lawang. As the flickering light cast remarkable arrays of shadows, the images from the stories came to life and became real. Our imaginations and fantasies knew no bounds. We could listen to the same stories again and again, enthralled, as if we were listening to them for the first time. The stories touched our lives so deeply that a good storyteller could evoke every kind of emotion from the listeners. There was tears in silence for the tragedies, peels of laughter at the comical episodes, anger at the injustice, and feelings of triumph at the victories of the heroes. There were also times when the younger children would lie down and rest their heads on the knees of the adults and drift off into easy sleep. Overall, these sessions were accessible, enjoyable, and meaningful. Only at that time I did not realize their importance in my life.
The stories enriched the world we lived in. Although we did not physically travel beyond the mountains that enclosed the Tang valley, in our minds,
our worlds extended far beyond: like the characters in the stories we climbed many mountains and crossed many valleys where everything became possible. Spirits, ghosts, and sinpos lived and competed in wit and strength with the human beings. Animals spoke and interacted with the human beings, sometimes as their enemies but other times as helpful friends. There was life in the other worlds, which human beings could momentarily enter and obtain a glimpse of the world of gods, spirits, and subterranean beings. Magic and myth abounded and became almost inseparable from our realities. There were stories that extolled the universal virtues of compassion, humility, kindness, and integrity. Yet there were other stories that spoke of senseless cruelty and crude and deceitful acts. But it was the fairly consistent themes (especially in the namthars or religious stories, not included here) of the stories that impressed us the most. Good triumphed over evil, quiet humility won over loud braggadocio and the rich generally conceded to the poor.
Some of the stories stayed alive in my mind even during the fourteen years of my cultural exile in India (at boarding school), often providing me with a safe refuge and solace in times of loneliness and depression, in trying to adjust and later on to understand other cultures. Memories of the stories helped to keep the link to my roots and, therefore, gave me my identity. I knew who I really was even when I was trying to conform to being somebody else! Years later I made efforts to trace the storytellers of the village to familiarize myself again with some of the stories of which I was no longer so sure. During this time I came to the realization that the art of the oral tradition is definitely on the decline; worse still, the story sessions are rapidly being replaced by video sessions which screen popular films from Hollywood, Bombay, and Hong Kong. The flickering lawang is now being replaced by the flashing blue-white light of the television set. I was immensely saddened when an old man who had told me many stories in childhood said, “I have forgotten all those stories. But everybody these days watches videos. Why do you want me to tell old stories?”
As I realize the importance of the stories as a link to who I am and where I come from, I also realize how important they will be to my children. It is for them and others of their generation that I write these stories with the hope that they will be of some value in their lives to link up with their cultural base so that in knowing their base they may better understand and appreciate their own lives.
The storytelling sessions are not a one-way communication where the storyteller simply talks and the others passively listen. There has to be constant interaction. Beyond the sad expressions of “ayi wha” and the “yaah lama” of surprise, someone from among the listeners has to respond to every sequence of the story. After every sequence a listener must say, “Aeii” or “tse ni” in Bumthangkha, “delay” in Dzongkha. These literally translate to, “and then”. Only when there is a response from the listeners will the storyteller continue the story with an exaggerated “Tse n..i..i..i” in Bumthangkha or “dela..a..a..y” in Dzongkha. This custom is to prevent the spirits from listening to the stories and stealing them. As long as a human being responds and indicates that the story is being listened to, the spirits cannot steal them.
Every Bhutanese story begins with Dangbo and Dingbo. These two terms are used either as nouns, as in “Dangbo thik naki key whenda” which would be equivalent to saying “there once was a Dangbo and a Dingbo”, or as indications of time, as in “Dangbo Dingbo” which would equate to “long long ago”. The length of time is made more specific by sounding the words Dangbo and Dingbo long or short. So, “Dangbo Dingbo” said with a short sound indicates a shorter time than if said “Dangbo..o..o Dingbo..o..o..”, which would mean a long, long, long time ago. The close of a storytelling session is usually marked by a customary story about Dangbo and Dingbo themselves, and I have followed this practice in this book.
It is more than likely that many of the stories bear similarities to stories from around the world. In fact in some cases the likeness is striking as in the story of the “Lame Monkey” and the world-famous fairy tale “Puss in Boots”. Considering the similarities that exist between two such vastly different countries/cultures as Bhutan and Germany, it is not surprising to hear similar stories told around the region, especially in Tibet, India, and Nepal. In fact it is difficult to tell where each story may have actually originated, because so many local characteristics have been attributed to the stories in every place where they are told that they become drastically or subtly different but definitely unique to the particular region. But my intention here is not to trace the origin of each story or seek out similarities and differences. I wish to simply release and unravel the stories I heard in my childhood and now remember.
The reader will notice how freely Dzongkha, Bumthangkha, Kurtoipkha and Tibetan phrases are interspersed in the stories. This is the actual case and, therefore, I have not restrained myself to using one language. I use the phrases as they appear in the original stories. The glossary provides explanations of such terms and phrases (indicated by bold italic in the text). As far as possible, I have given a brief translation of these words when they occur in the stories for the convenience of the reader.
Finally I wish to make only one request to the readers—do pause long enough to say “tse ni” or “delay” every now and then so that these stories may not be stolen and they may remain ours to keep and pass on.
Introduction
Drukyul is the name by which the Bhutanese refer to their country. Located in the eastern Himalayan zone, it covers an area of approximately 46,000 square kilometers. This landlocked kingdom is bounded to the north and northwest by the Tibetan regions of China and to the south by the Indian states of West Bengal and Assam. The spectacular mountainous terrain of Bhutan is easily one of the most rugged in the world, rising in altitude from a few hundred meters in the south to the permanently snow capped peaks in the north. These extremes of topography result in a diversity of temperatures and rainfall. Consequently the variety in flora and fauna, ranging from the subtropical to the alpine, is sensational.
This country of 600,000 people can be broadly divided into three ecological zones. The northern zone, bordering Tibet, where the peaks rise above 7,000 meters, is the most sparsely populated part of the country. This alpine region is inhabited by pastoralists, the Brokpas, who graze their sheep, cattle and yak up to elevations of 5,000 meters in the summer and migrate to lower areas in the winter. The Drukpas, who are of Mongoloid origin, live in the western part of the central zone. They are followers of the Drukpakagyu school of Buddhism from which the name of the country, Drukyul or land of the Drukpas is derived. Drukyul is also taken to mean land of the dragons (Druk means dragon). The eastern part of the central zone is home to the Sharchokpas (easterners). The Lhostampas or people of Nepali origin, who came to the country towards the end of the nineteenth century, live in the southern foothills which rise from the Indian plains. Over 90 percent of the population are engaged in subsistence farming, combining crops, livestock and forestry.
It is thought that Bhutan may have been inhabited as early as 2,000 Be. But in the absence of any archeological studies it is generally accepted that the two Buddhist temples, Kyichu Lhakhang in the Paro Valley and Jampa Lhakhang in the Bumthang Valley represent the only testimony to the country’s earliest history. These temples are said to have been constructed by the Tibetan King Srongtsan Gompo, who ruled Tibet from about 627 to 649. The most important religio-historical event in Bhutan’s history was the arrival of Padmasambhava, a Tantrist from Swat (in present-day Pakistan) in the eighth century. Commonly known as Guru Rinpoche or Precious Teacher, he introduced Tantric Buddhism and is considered by the Nyingmapa religious school as the second Buddha. Prior to his arrival the people seem to have been animists. The subsequent period, up to the seventeenth century, was marked by the activities of many saints and scholars who left their influence upon the country in various ways.
Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyel (1595-1651) unified the country and introduced a sophisticated
administrative and legal system. He established the dual system of government consisting of a state clergy headed by the Je Khenpo (chief abbot) and the desi (temporal leader). He initiated the building of dzongs or fortresses which not only housed monasteries but also were the seat of the regional governments. The majestic dzongs, which may still be seen all over the country, not only bear witness to the architectural skills of that time but also are treasure troves of exquisite sculpture, paintings, and frescoes. They still serve as the seat of the local administration under the district administrator or Dzongdha. The dual system was replaced by a hereditary monarchy in 1907. His Majesty King Jigme Singhe Wangchuck is the fourth hereditary king.
For political reasons and also because of its almost inaccessible and rugged terrain, Bhutan survived in self-imposed isolation until the late nineteen fifties. In the few decades since Bhutan has opted to emerge from its isolation, it has made considerable progress in its efforts to modernize. Changes have reached every aspect of Bhutanese society. While the Bhutanese are willing to forge ahead and keep up with the changing times, they also see themselves as upholders of Buddhist values as well as their own traditions and ancestral customs. They dearly cherish the goal of finding a balance between tradition and modernization and the influence of this aspiration is apparent not only in the life styles of the people but also in all the policies of the government.
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