Free So Close to Heaven by Barbara Crossette Page A

and the ability of Bhutanese people to stay abreast of that pace—the gap between our own ability to do development programs and the pace of development that we implement—should not be so wide that it can never be bridged,” he said. “We also at the same time do not believe that more money meansmore development. We don’t believe that unless the infrastructure is there it is not feasible for any developing country to achieve overnight economic prosperity and bring overnight changes, economically, socially, and politically.”
    Though he wants more political participation, he returns repeatedly to his reservations about democracy. “In Bhutan, I myself feel disillusioned both about the democratic system of government as well as monarchy, because both have very serious flaws,” he said. “Like democracy, for instance, only works when you have a perfect society. You have to have a society which is highly literate, politically very conscious, and also enjoy a very high level of economic well-being and prosperity. Then at the same time, when it comes to monarchy, if you have a good king, he can do a lot of good. And if you don’t have a very good king, then he can do a lot of harm. The flaw with monarchy is that too much depends on one individual, and in Bhutan we cannot hope that for all time to come we will have a wise and good king.
    “The king does not have a monopoly over what system of government we should have,” he said. Nor, he added, should anyone be making commitments about the future, when new generations may have different ideas. “Whatever changes we bring about in Bhutan, so long as it is in the best interest of the country, the final decision lies with the Bhutanese people. And that is how it should be.”
    A few hours after the interview, when night had fallen over Thimphu’s small central square and I was back in the modest Druk Hotel, a car from the palace arrived and two men soon appeared at the door of my room bearing gifts: a thangka in brilliant embroidered silk, a ferocious ritual mask like those used in classical temple dances, and a tiny box made by Bhutanese silversmiths. I decided not to send them back. They live with me still, reminders of a culture on the edge.
    “Everywhere else dramatic changes have taken place,” the king had said that day. “What is at stake here is the survival of the Bhutanese people and our religion. We are really the last bastion of Himalayan Buddhism.”



Chapter 3

BECOMING BUDDHA
    O N A DISMAL afternoon, when a Kathmandu spring had reverted without warning to wintry drizzle and dull gray skies, I went for a long walk up the hill behind the massive white stupa at Bodhnath, where one splendorous new monastery after another has risen to serve exiled Tibetans and all others seeking to study Buddhism since the Chinese began their assaults on religious life in Lhasa and other holy places. I was looking for Shechen, the temple and meditation center established by this century’s most revered and beloved Bhutanese lama, the late Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche. These few square miles above what everyone calls “Bodha” are becoming the world capital of Tibetan Buddhism, a place to start or finish or break a journey of discovery in the Himalayan kingdoms. Along the muddy lanes and footpaths, mostly rutted tracks too narrow for cars, that lead away from the dominating stupa, Tibetan women with roundish, leathery faces and cheerful smiles sell all the paraphernalia of the faith: prayer wheels to be spun with flicks of the wrist while walking, prayer beads, offering bowls, bells, the stylized double-diamond thunderbolts called
dorjis
(which look like ornate little barbells), Tibetan seals with sealing wax, and sometimes the brass spoons used to measure the ingredients in traditional medicine. Scattered among the stalls are open-fronted tailor shops where men stitch simple monastic garments or more elaborate temple hangings. Monks and novices of all ages and nationalities