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| Letter from Bhutan: a monk's life | Letter from Bhutan: a monk's life |
| (25 days later) | |
| The narrow trail winds above a tangled forest, as ancient temple buildings emerge from the mist. As I round the corner, a Lama appears and welcomes me to the monastery, then introduces dozens of eager monks who are to be my students over the next week. | The narrow trail winds above a tangled forest, as ancient temple buildings emerge from the mist. As I round the corner, a Lama appears and welcomes me to the monastery, then introduces dozens of eager monks who are to be my students over the next week. |
| We live in cramped quarters, eat rice and vegetables, study English, attend prayers and participate in debates. The life of a monk is difficult; food and housing are simple, study hours are long, the daily work is hard and wake-up time is 4.30am. | We live in cramped quarters, eat rice and vegetables, study English, attend prayers and participate in debates. The life of a monk is difficult; food and housing are simple, study hours are long, the daily work is hard and wake-up time is 4.30am. |
| Breakfast is prepared in a makeshift kitchen with a metal roof and no walls, with a large pot of water boiling over a smoky wood fire. A cobweb hangs from the corner of the roof, holding raindrops and tiny flies. | Breakfast is prepared in a makeshift kitchen with a metal roof and no walls, with a large pot of water boiling over a smoky wood fire. A cobweb hangs from the corner of the roof, holding raindrops and tiny flies. |
| The cook's wife sweeps the broken concrete stairs with a twig broom, baby securely strapped to her back with a colourful cloth, while her three-year-old son plays football in the rain with a punctured plastic ball. A well-fed black dog chases pigeons that peck away at the leftover rice spread by monks on the concrete slabs. | The cook's wife sweeps the broken concrete stairs with a twig broom, baby securely strapped to her back with a colourful cloth, while her three-year-old son plays football in the rain with a punctured plastic ball. A well-fed black dog chases pigeons that peck away at the leftover rice spread by monks on the concrete slabs. |
| Lhobey Tindu tends his garden, planting cucumber seeds near a crumbling chorten. Suddenly the silence is broken by the ringing of a temple bell, followed by three dogs howling. The afternoon prayer begins, with the beating of drums and the booming sound of Tibetan horns, punctuated by the blowing of conch shells. | Lhobey Tindu tends his garden, planting cucumber seeds near a crumbling chorten. Suddenly the silence is broken by the ringing of a temple bell, followed by three dogs howling. The afternoon prayer begins, with the beating of drums and the booming sound of Tibetan horns, punctuated by the blowing of conch shells. |
| In the evening we hold English class for the novices. They sit on the temple floor, attentively taking notes from the board. Afterwards we practise some simple songs. | In the evening we hold English class for the novices. They sit on the temple floor, attentively taking notes from the board. Afterwards we practise some simple songs. |
| Next morning I hear some excited voices. Some of the novices are running towards the toilet; I follow them. A monk is holding a snake on a stick. A boy takes the poisonous snake with caution and drops it into the ravine. | Next morning I hear some excited voices. Some of the novices are running towards the toilet; I follow them. A monk is holding a snake on a stick. A boy takes the poisonous snake with caution and drops it into the ravine. |
| After a week at the monastery, I became transformed by the peaceful existence on this mountain. The young monks bid me farewell, urging me to return soon. I hug them and promise to return next year, as I will greatly miss their kindness and smiles. | After a week at the monastery, I became transformed by the peaceful existence on this mountain. The young monks bid me farewell, urging me to return soon. I hug them and promise to return next year, as I will greatly miss their kindness and smiles. |
| For a while I linger among the chortens and prayer flags, I listen to the soft wind breathing through the grass, watch the mist lift, revealing distant peaks with soft clouds hugging the hillsides, and wonder how anyone could ever imagine a more peaceful spot on this troubled earth. | For a while I linger among the chortens and prayer flags, I listen to the soft wind breathing through the grass, watch the mist lift, revealing distant peaks with soft clouds hugging the hillsides, and wonder how anyone could ever imagine a more peaceful spot on this troubled earth. |
| • Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers from around the world. We welcome submissions – they should focus on giving a clear sense of a place and its people. Please send them to weekly.letter.from@guardian.co.uk | • Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers from around the world. We welcome submissions – they should focus on giving a clear sense of a place and its people. Please send them to weekly.letter.from@guardian.co.uk |
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