portfolio 73

Part III- The story of cold soaked feet The cover of the Booklet The smile on everybody’s face when we saw the draft print of the Ura documentation was incredible. It was all the frowns and stresses that finally found a way to stretch into the long lost smile. It was the kind of smile that had many reasons. It was the smile of relief, the smile of completeness, the smile of satisfaction, the smile of pride, and the smile that our hardworks finally paid off and that we’re finally going to get some sleep. It was happiness. And when we finally saw the hundred and sixty-one pages booklet in a glossy cover picturing Ura Village, the smile multiplied even more. After documenting fourty-five houses of Ura, we spend the last day studying the general aspects of the village: Settlement pattern, connectivity, infrastructure, drainage, waste management and water supply (Which is included in the booklet). What made the study so unique was a heavy snowfall during the last t...

Part II- Store Rooms, Windows and Cold Picture from Divya The first house we documented was about fifty years old and it still stood new on its thick enormous walls. The owner said that her house overcame earthquakes or any other disasters without a crack. Her amusing trust on her own house was undeniable as the house spoke for itself too. Its massive walls could stand hundreds of angry men punching on it hundreds of times though it was just mud and stone. It was three-storied and the wide ground floor where they used to keep cattle in olden days now were left empty. Although, some of the corners hosted families of mice and spiders.  The stone masonry walls plastered with mud extended up to the first floor where this house had three different store rooms. Only if modern buildings in Thimphu had this luxury, one wouldn’t have to pay five thousand ngultrum for just a bedroom and a kitchen.  A stair case of nine steps laddered up to the top most floor where s...

 Part I-Remembering Dawa the stray dog Picture Courtesy: Sonam Dorji A story of a stray dog in Bhutan by Kuenzang Choden narrates his journey to Bumthang, east from Thimphu, which is now twelve hours of bus ride accompanied by backache and dusty air due to the road extension work. In that story, Dawa, the dog travels to Bumthang upon hearing of a place where he can cure his mange. His gift of understanding human language directs him to his destination where he explores places on the way. Such was the experience of my travel to Bumthang last week. Travelling with eighteen other friends who were new to Bumthang made me feel new in the place I grew up. I realized there was so much I didn’t know, so much of amazing things I missed even though I lived there. So for one week, I was a tourist in my own home. It started right from our departure from the college. I could feel the air in the bus growing thicker with excitement as it accelerated up the gentle slope towards Sorc...

I don’t know if falling in love with a mountain more than with any person is weird. Two years ago I wrote about this beautiful mountain in Bumthang, Kitiphu. No evil seems to have kissed this magnificent giant and its grandeur stands as beautiful as ever. It still fills me with positive feelings and gives me all the reasons to fall in love with it. My visit this time promised bigger things. It was like meeting an old friend after long years of distance. It was like that friend had all the answers to my questions I was never able to get a way to. More prayer flags have been stringed and hoisted.  The older ones were faded and overlapped by the new ones with fresh prayers. The weight of the flags on the strings made it difficult to flutter lightly but it looked beautiful just the same. all the flags were somehow connected to eachother(It looked like all selfish prayers that were hung together) and it made me realise how we belonged to the same web even though our prayers sa...

 The Ruins of Drugyal Dzong before the reconstruction Picture from Google I have a deep affection for ruins. I love the stories that old and broken things have to tell and everything they remain for. The ruins of Drukgyal Dzong in Paro is something I have always admired, not just as a patriotic Bhutanese but also as a student of architecture. But as they say, “You raze the old to raise a new,” the reconstruction of a new structure has already begun and has even reached half way through. This initiation seems to be welcomed and even celebrated by many, but I can’t explain the sore feeling it gives me every time I think about it. The ruins were something that preserved glory and heroism of wars Bhutan had fought four hundred years ago. The thick walls of rammed earth held such strength that could not be demolished by any foreign attacks but rather stood high and bold to scare away enemies. The walls stretch along the hill looking as if it grew out of it and nothing cou...