When he finally regained some of his composure he realized that all around him, in this pitch darkness, there was total silence. “I have to find out where I am,” he thought. He released one hand from the moss and stretched out in one direction. His hand came in contact with nothing. But when he touched the ground the same soft uneven surface seemed to stretch endlessly. He repeated this exercise in all directions and it was the same. There was emptiness all around save for the ground on which he sat. Then he began to inch his way until he felt that there was a drop. He dangled his feet down from the level where he was sitting until the tips of his toes touched the ground. He slowly let himself down and felt the solid ground under his feet. He took a handful of soil from the ground just to make sure it was not an illusion. There was ground under his feet but where was he? Was it a bad dream from which he would wakeup?
A sense of sheer hopelessness enveloped him and tears of frustration stung his eyes and he cried out loudly. His cries echoed through what he now guessed was a deep cave. He sat crouched on the floor hugging his knees, not knowing what to do.
He did not know how much time had passed, he would never know. He began to explore a little, groping and falling in the darkness but always came back to the object on which he had fallen. By now he had come to depend on this object as a landmark. He had rightly guessed that this object was some sort of animal. Once while he was feeling for the animal his hands came in contact with some udder-like projections on its body. A thick liquid was oozing out of them. He wondered what it was. Later in a desperate state of hunger and thirst he put his mouth to one of the projections and began to suckle from it. He had never tasted anything like it in his life; it was something he could not even describe, but it was not totally unpleasant. This was the substance that was to nourish him for the rest of his days in this underground cavern. The warmth from the body of this creature comforted him for all the time he spent in darkness. In fact this was his lifeline. Without it he would have perished.
Later he began praying devotedly and fervently. He tried to concentrate and by and by he found it was easier and easier to control his mind until he was able to visualize Chenrezi. Henceforth, he spent the rest of his time chanting Om Mani Padme Hung, contemplating and meditating and actually beginning to experience blissful tranquillity.
One day the animal seemed to be agitated and restless. He was worried for he had now come to depend completely on this great creature for his food and warmth. He sat against it unable to meditate. A sudden thunderous noise nearly split his eardrums. It sounded like what he used to know as thunder, the roar of a dragon. What was happening? A second peal of thunder sounded even louder and the animal he was leaning on shook violently and roared forth a thundering sound so that he was thrown onto the ground. He quickly recovered himself and held onto its mane. It roared again, and on the third sound it took off with a ferocity so great that it burst through the earth and he was outside his dark prison.
Once above the surface of the earth the pilgrim jumped to the ground and landed safely on the soft snow. The brilliant light hurt his eyes and nearly blinded him. As he lifted his arms to shield his eyes, he just got a glimpse of the great greenish white serpentine creature, with its mane flying about wildly, disappearing into the clouds leaving behind a trail of flashing fire. It was truly a dragon–it looked exactly as it was depicted in the religious paintings he had gazed at in fascination in the monasteries in Ugen Choling naktsang!
Now it came to pass that this pilgrim finally made his way to Tibet. He sought his tsawa lama who was very surprised that a farmer had reached such a level of meditation on his own. On hearing of his adventure the lama was sure that this unusual incident was a deliberate trial, such as sometimes befalls potentially great choepa.
It is said that this choepa never returned to Bhutan but spent the rest of his life in meditation and prayer. It can be assumed that the pilgrim spent at least two to three months in the cavern, as he had started his journey in early spring and came out only with the start of the rains which is marked by thunder and lightning. This is the time when hibernating dragons emerge from their resting places and set in motion the mysterious phenomenon of fiery skies and claps of thunder that result in torrents of rain.
The Stewa Rutu and the Elephant
The elephant who had been kept starved of water for some time plunged into the river, drinking the water and spraying its parched body with its trunk.
A stewa rutu is perhaps best thought of as a water monster. It is said to be a vicious and deadly bloodthirsty creature which has the appearance of the rubbery wall of the stomach of a cow with twisting tentacles with which to grasp its victims. It is said that many many years ago there was such a deadly creature under the bridge in Wangdiphodrang. Not only was the creature vicious and bloodthirsty but it was also known to have some kind of supernatural powers. Every day some unfortunate person or cattle would fall prey to this creature which, it was said, had an insatiable appetite and would devour as many animals and humans as it could get in a day. The people in the region knew about it and they tried to keep away from the river. It was usually an unsuspecting traveler passing through Wangdiphodrang who fell prey to this monstrous creature. It was said that the prey did not have to be physically caught by the stewa rutu. With its supernatural powers it could actually draw the victim’s blood through his or her shadow. So, every time somebody crossed the bridge and the shadow fell on the water the stewa rutu would hold onto it. The victim would stand on the bridge transfixed and dazed until all his strength and power was drained out. The lifeless body would then drop into the river like a block of wood. As soon as the body touched the water the stewa rutu would clasp its numerous tentacles around the victim and devour him. It was indeed a horrible sight and many who saw this actually happening were haunted by memories of it for many years later.
This creature was a scourge, and fear and anxiety gripped the inhabitants. One day the villagers assembled in the Wangdiphodrang dzong courtyard and implored the dzongpon to do something about the monster. “Our lives have come to a standstill ever since this creature appeared in the water. It cannot be a god; it must be a demon. We have to get rid of it,” they said in unison.
Now the dzongpon was not only a very ingenious man but also one who was willing to take risks. He arranged to obtain the strongest elephant from Lhostam, the southern part of Bhutan where elephants were found in plenty at that time. As he did not tell the people his plan everyone was very curious and wondered what his next move would be. So one day when he summoned a hundred women to come forward with their frying pans, the rest of the population could not resist following the women. While the people stood at a cautious distance from the river and watched, he instructed each woman to fry a panful of sand. Then he drove the elephant into the river. The elephant who had been kept starved of water for some time plunged into the river, drinking the water and spraying its parched body with its trunk. As everyone looked on there was a sudden swift and movement in the water close to the elephant, and the next moment the stewa rutu had entwined its many fleshy tentacles around the hind legs of the elephant. The elephant trumpeted loudly and began to move towards the sandbank. But the stewa rutu seemed to possess extraordinary strength too and resisted the movement away from the depths of the water. A most grisly struggle ensued, while the silent audience watched in complete horror. The struggle went on for a long time until finally the elephant, now staggering a little, was able to walk to the sandbank with the creature still clinging to its legs. This was exactly what the dzongpon had hoped would happen.
The elephant stumbled and went down, first on its front legs, and then the whole body crashed under its own weight, for its body was drained of every drop of blood! The dzongpon, who had been watching the whole thing very attentively knew exactly what to do. As soon as the elephant’s mighty body crashed to the sand, he commanded the women to pour the now red-hot sand onto the creature that still clung to the dying elephant. There were sizzling
and burning noises when the brave women poured the sand onto the stewa rutu. It shrunk and became smaller with every panful of sand. Eventually the huge creature had shrunk to the size of a dried-up cow intestine. In fact that’s just what it looked like. The only things that still appeared to be alive were its luminous saucer-like eyes that stared into space, registering nothing.
The remains of the monster were then burnt and its ashes buried under a black chorten. This scourge of Wangdiphodrang was thus removed and the people could once more travel freely to and fro and life continued as before.
The Woman who would have Eaten a Stewa Rutu
Then one of its tentacles reached out and grasped Tseringmo.
The Tang Chu which flows through the entire Tang valley is a greenish-blue river that is turbulent in most parts and calmer in others. Fish and river algae abound in the river. But fishing is frowned upon as sinful, so Tang chu algae have a reputation beyond the valley’s boundaries. The river is a significant geographical boundary and people often refer to one another, in Tangkho, as being from the upper river, khay totmai, the lower river, khay madmai, the other side of the river, khay tholomai, or this side of the river, khay stolomai. However, all Tangpas share the folklore associated with their river.
One fairly well known story is the one about a woman who would have eaten a stewa rutu if it had not eaten her first. Tseringmo was collecting firewood on the banks of the Tang chu. As she filled her basket with the dried driftwood lying there she came across what she thought was a piece of dried meat. It looked like a dried piece of the intestine of a cow. She looked at it carefully and saw that it was a good piece. She was a poor woman and meat was a rarity in her diet so she gladly picked it up and tossed it into her basket with the firewood she had collected. “A cat must have stolen it from someone’s house in Kizom,” she said aloud as if to justify acquiring something that she had not worked for.
Once back home she piled up the firewood against the rickety ladder to her house and took her lucky find into the house. She filled a chuzang, the huge water container, and threw in the intestine to soak for a while, and then she went out to call her friend, Nadon, and ask her to come and share the night meal with her.
Tseringmo was away from home longer than she expected, for her friend was not home yet. She waited for a while and excitedly told her friend about her find and her plans. “Nadon, now I would like You to come and we can have dinner together. You can bring the rice. you must have some for didn’t you just return from tosui in Kurtoi? We will cook it at my house. We will have rice and fried tripe.”
The two women hurried back to the house very excited, like two little girls who share a secret never to be told. They hurried up the ladder and opened the door to go in. But an enormous monster that filled the room. It was a huge intestine, with numerous tentacles protruding from its body that shook and shivered as it moved about in an uncoordinated sort of way. The two women were shocked but could not move. They stood there mesmerized by the creature as it began slowly but surely to inch towards them across the kitchen floor. Then one of its tentacles reached out and grasped Tseringmo. At this moment Nadon screamed and shrieked in utter panic and dread but she could do nothing to save her friend. She ran around the village crying and shouting, “What freak is this? What monster. . . .”
When the villagers came together and she was finally able to explain what had happened, they rushed towards the house. They did not have to go very near the house as the creature which had been fortified with fresh blood was now boldly extending its long tentacles through the windows towards the approaching people.
“Set the monster on fire,” shouted a voice among the crowd and soon torches of resin wood that burns easily were being thrown at the house. A terrific blaze soon engulfed the house and the smoke rose high above the village. When the air was filled with the smell of burning and charring flesh the people knew that they had succeeded in destroying the monster.
It is believed that during heavy floods the stewa rutu, like other water creatures, is sometimes washed ashore. But unlike the other water creatures this monster can actually survive without water for many days by shriveling up and conserving its energy. As soon as it comes in contact with water it will grow back to its normal size again and begin its second life.
The Spirit of Necorpa
Out came a ruffled and weak looking pigeon that was dazed and groggy.
We human beings are not the sole occupiers of this world. We share this world with numerous other beings, seen and unseen. Spirits and ghosts make up a large number of the unseen beings. Some of these spirits are malicious while others are benevolent. The Bhutanese are taught to be ever mindful of the other beings so as not to bring harm to these spirits and to try and live in harmony with them. But in every Bhutanese society there are those spirits that are always resentful of human beings and readily cause havoc that disrupts the harmony of the human lives.
In the Tang valley of Bumthang there are many such spirits and even to this day not only are they acknowledged but rites and rituals appropriate to them are conducted to placate and appease them in case the people have knowingly or unknowingly incurred their wrath. One of the best known spirits of this category is Necorpa or the Pilgrim, sometimes also known as Dasho. Every known spirit has a history which explains why and how it became a malicious wandering spirit. It appears that throughout man’s constant migrations the spirits moved from place to place with the human beings. Their powers rose and fell at different times in history.
Now it is said that at one time the spirit of Necorpa was rising so rapidly that the people of Tang fell into the grip of paranoia as more and more people fell ill and cattle wasted away and died. Crops failed and bridges collapsed. With every catastrophe the power and fame of Necorpa grew. Finally the people got together and after a long and somber meeting decided that something had to be done. The village elders went and beseeched the most revered lama in the region to subjugate the spirit of Necorpa.
The holy lama came and made elaborate preparations for a gagdru, the destructive or coercive ritual to subjugate evil or malevolent spirits. A triangular metal container or hungkhang was placed in front of the altar on a tripod stand. The stand was placed on a black yak-hair rug. Around the trap was placed a heap of thorny branches to prevent the spirit from escaping. The mantras of gagdru were chanted for days, and on the final day there came a band of men carrying torches that sparkled and flashed as they threw the howla, a powder made from roasted and ground decaying wood, onto the fire, and ran wildly to every room in every house. A man with a leather bag followed them, striking the bag against the ground in every nook and cranny of every house. More men carrying bags of white crystalline pebbles came following him. They threw pebbles everywhere as the man with the leather bag hit the bag on the ground. The ghost-chasing men shrieked and whistled without restraint. In the pitch darkness of the night the men, whose masked faces could only be seen in the light of the torches, looked as fearsome as the noises they made and their faces and naked upper bodies glistened with their own sweat. The lama, and his retinue followed quietly. The lama sedately ringing the bell, dilbo, in his left hand and waving the dathar, the sacred arrow, in his right hand, went around repeatedly reciting powerful and secret mantras.
When every space where any human being would ever have trod had been visited the procession made its way back to the monastery. More mantras were chanted and then the spirit of Necorpa was called by every name he was known by, and the contents of the bag, small wooden plates with inscriptions on each, were emptied out on the floor and the lama made swift and intricate hand gestures or mudras over the wooden plates and the hungkhang. The spirit of Necorpa was at last caught and trapped. The container was sealed both physically and spiritually.
The next day the container was taken in a solemn procession and thrown into the deepest part of the Tang chu which happened to be under the Kizom bridge. The villagers gathered together to thank the lama. In gratitude they offe
red him everything they had: a young milking cow, measures of grains and fabrics, and a small silken pouch filled to the rim with precious silver coins. Their gratitude knew no bounds.
For years and years Necorpa was spoken of as a spirit that was powerless and harmless. Then one fatal day a young cow boy was herding his cows on the banks of the river. There had been heavy rains for several days and the river was swollen. Branches and logs floated on the water and occasionally a dead fish was washed along. Chola the cowherd wanted to collect the fish to roast and pound with his chili. His lunch of kaptang, a flat circular bread, certainly would taste better with fish in his chili paste!
He stood on the banks of the river with a stick trying to catch a fish when he noticed a piece of metal sticking out from the sand on the bank. He promptly dropped the stick and ran towards the metal object thinking that he had found a knife or a sword. He tried to pull it out but it was stuck, so he dug furiously around the object until he was able to pull it out. It was a triangular container that was sealed on every side. He studied it for a while, rather disappointed that it was not a knife or a sword, a boy’s most prized possessions. He put it to his ear and shook it, but there was no indication of anything being in it. “Perhaps I should throw it back into the river,” he thought, and in fact he raised it over his shoulder in an attempt to throw it and then abruptly he changed his mind. He placed the object on a rock and pulled out his own knife and broke the lac seals. There was a feeble push against the lid before he could open it. A sudden excitement surged in his heart and he swiftly opened the lid. Out came a ruffled and weak looking pigeon that was dazed and groggy. It shook itself lethargically, waited a while and then fluttered into the air clumsily. As it flew away it said, “Kizom Chola, I shall never harm you and your kin.” And so the spirit of Necorpa was released and was on the loose once again to wreck havoc among the people!
Folktales of Bhutan Page 15
