SIkkim has much on offer for a visitor – from lush mixed forests to high mountain peaks to exquisite lakes to colourful monasteries. But, for me, one place that encompasses the spirit of this northeastern state is the tiny Tashiding Monastery. Set atop a thickly forested hill overlooking the confluence of Rangit and Rathong Rivers, Tashiding exudes the aura of benevolence and peace that defines the people of Sikkim.
The first I heard of Tashiding was more than 10 years back when I was travelling from Gangtok to Yuksom on a rain-soaked day. My friend Amar and I had gone to Sikkim to do a story following the announcement of the opening of Nathula for trade between India and China.
It was our first visit to Sikkim, and we had planned a two-day side trip to Yuksom. The young cab driver, whose services we had hired for the trip, had overheard our excited conversations about what was there to see in the State and what we could manage in the extra two days that we had managed to take out from our tight schedule.
While we were talking about how to pack in Yuksom, Pelling, Pemangyatse Monastery and Khecheopalri Lake – the usual circuit a first-time visitor in Sikkim travels – in two days and bemoaning the lack of time to do a trek to Dzongri (above Yuksom), the driver suggested anunscheduled stop.
“If you are ready to walk a couple of kilometres, you can visit Tashiding Monastery,” he said, “it is one of the most beautiful ones in the State and has a golden chorten (pagoda).”
“Where is it?” we asked.
“How much time will it take to go there and come back? Will we reach Yuksom before the day sets in?” we peppered him with questions.
He pointed to his right – we had crossed Ravangla by then and it was about 11 in the morning – and said that within half-an-hour we would be at the point from where we had to walk for the monastery; and no, we have to take no diversion as the spot was on the road to Yuksom.
“The time taken will depend on how fast you can trek two kilometres up the hill to reach the monastery,” he said, throwing the challenge back at us.
“It is said that one look at the monastery and its holy chorten absolves one of all the sins,” he added.
He then held forth on the various other aspects of the monastery, mostly in the realm of legends. But what clinched it for us was what he said at the end of his discourse, almost as an afterthought: “No other monastery has the kind of mane wall that Tashiding has.”
“We,ll go,” we both chanted in unison.
After 30 minutes or so he stopped the vehicle at a non-descript bend on the road and pointed at the narrow path – the Hindi word pagdandi would describe it the best –we had to take.
All our misgivings, if any, dissolved as we left the road and started walking. And much before we could lay our sights on the promised mane wall and the golden chorten, we patted our backs for deciding to take this unplanned journey, for the forest through which the steep path went up was straight out of folk tales.
The track winded through an ‘ancient’ forest with the character of an old wizened man – mature, mysterious and with numerous nooks and crannies hiding tales from the yonder years. The tree trunks, without exception, were gnarled and orchids were in plenty.
Unfortunately, this was not the time for their flowering. As it was July and the monsoon was at its peak, wafts of clouds hung silently in the branches and the forest litter further added to the atmosphere. Here and there we passed through scattered houses that lay awash in the rains, adding a human touch to the proceedings.
After about a kilometre-and-a-half, prayer flags made their appearance. From there, the walk to the monastery was on an easy gradient. It had taken us about half-an-hour to reach the monastery.
Today a road takes you up to the flag-lined approach. But, I would still recommend the climb through the forest as it prepares you – emotionally, so to say – to experience the monastery. The well marked path leaves the main road near an impressive mane wall and a guesthouse, both recent additions along with the approach road.
Tashiding monastery was unlike any other I had seen. While in most monasteries when you enter you come face-to-face with the main prayer hall, here it was different. The buildings here were scattered with the main prayer hall of the monastery almost at the fag-end of the path.
And beyond that was the enclosure of chortens – according to Wikipedia, in the chorten area, there are 41 chortens categorised as ‘Chortens of Enlightenment’, ‘Chortens of Reconciliation’ and ‘Chortens of Great Miracle’, which are all of Rinpoches and Tathgatas.
The monastery consisted of a Mani Lhakang, at the entrance surrounded by flags, and leading to the guest house. Then is the main monastery followed by the butter lamp house, four chortens, Tsenkhang, a new butter lamp house and finally terminating at Guru Lhakhang, the temple of Guru Rinpoche.
The mane wall enclosed the chortens and one of the most attractive sights of the monastery. Every inch of the wall was carved with colourful ‘Om Mane Padme Hum’ inscriptions and carved Buddhas in various poses. The colours vary from brilliant yellows to deep red, green and blue shades.
The story behind the carvings was even more amazing – all the flagstones have been carved by one man, master craftsman Yanchong Lodil, who lives there and still, with rare dedication, continues his work. When I visited Tashiding in 2003, he was working on a carving of Budhha in the sitting pose and when I went again late in 2013, he was painting a huge inscripted flagstone. Such men are not supposed to be of this era, I thought. Till I met him I always thought that such men only existed in old tales.
Lodil is a living example who provides substance to these tales and I could nothing but bow to him in respect. Tashiding, which was established in 1717, belongs to the Nyingmapa sect.
The word Tashiding means ‘The Devoted Central Glory’ and, according to one legend, was built after a rainbow was seen to connect the site to the Kanchenjunga peak. According to yet another legend, Guru Padmasambhava shot an arrow into the air to select the place. Where the arrow landed, he sat in meditation and that site eventually became the site of the Tashiding Monastery. Tashiding comes alive at the midnight of the 14th and 15th day of the first Tibetan month (falling usually in Januray-February).
At this time, the sacred ceremony of Bumchu (bum meaning pot or vase, chu meaning water) is performed here. During this festival, the monks of the monastery open a huge pot containing water. It is claimed that if the water is full to the brim, it prophesises bloodshed disturbances. If it is empty, it foretells famine and if it is half empty, it means there will be prosperity and peace. At the end of the festival, the pot is replenished with water and sealed, to be opened only a year later at the next Bumchu.
I am yet to go to Tashiding at the time of the Bumchu. But I have made a promise to myself that sooner than later I shall do so. Not that I need a compelling reason to visit Tashiding, it is one place that I can go time and again just to be one with the serenity that I experience there.
(In arrangement with Himanshu Joshi of Terrascape)
