As he lifted his arms to shield his eyes, he just got a glimpse of the great greenish white serpentine creature.
Many Bhutanese traders and pilgrims have, since time immemorial, braved the perilous journey across the mountains every year into Tibet. Traders would load their mules and yaks with rice, chilis, dey shog, the famous Bhutanese handmade paper, and various other goods for barter and journey across the mountains for many days until they reached the Tibetan settlements of their choice. They went in groups of at least three to four men. They carried enough rations and other stocks and once they reached the Tibetan settlements it was with confidence that they would go directly to their nyda to rest and to have their animals fed. With the same assurance they could trade their goods in the markets and proudly load their mules and return home.
But the pilgrims were another sort of traveler. Many of them had only a vague knowledge of Tibet and even less about the perils of the long journey there. Many pilgrims are known to have perished during the journeys and yet faith and devotion drew them to the choe gi densa, the centers of religion. Armed with his kesang khurshing, two strong V-shaped cane sticks that act like a light basket for holding provisions, and his T-shaped stick, which served as both a walking stick and a stool to rest his load on, a pilgrim from Tang valley in the Bumthang district headed for the 5,316 meter (17,442 foot) high Monla Karchung pass one spring day many years ago.
This pilgrim was a disgruntled farmer who felt that he had to seek a tsawa lama, a root teacher and follow the path of dharma. When he announced his intention, his family members were shocked but none would try to stand in the way of someone who had decided to seek religion. His brothers ungrudgingly and quietly assumed the tasks that he had abandoned to prepare for the long journey to Tibet.
So one spring morning the family tearfully bade farewell to this departing member of their family. They stood near the bridge and watched him as he confidently walked on. The women members waved their scarves and sang, “Alo”, the melancholic farewell melody, while the men shouted, “Aoo Aoo” After a while they could only see the heavy kesang khurshing, within which he had packed all he needed. All of them wished that he had some traveling companion. But this potential pilgrim had always retorted quoting the famous Tibetan saying, “where can there be salvation without suffering?”
As the days passed he came closer to the famous Monla Karchung. The majestic white giant stood before his eyes and it seemed to beckon him towards it. This young and healthy farmer, who was used to hard work and carrying heavy loads, did not suffer having to climb the steadily ascending mountain path as the altitude increased rapidly. The white snow glistened in the bright sun and the glare hurt his eyes. Every thing looked white and icicles hung from the rocks. The dwarf azalea shrubs which had been quite abundant lower down now disappeared and everywhere he looked there was snow that sparkled and glittered in the sun. It was so quiet and peaceful that he was naturally reminded of the purpose of his journey He took out his prayer beads, which an old uncle who was a gomchen had given him, and began to chant the sacred syllables of Om Mani Padme Hung. As he recited he tried to visualize the image of Chenrezi as his uncle the gomchen had taught him to do. Whenever he tried to visualize Chenrezi his mind wandered and he saw his parents and his brothers and sisters and he began to wonder what they were doing. At once he would correct himself and try to concentrate. This went on for a while.
Now he was close to the labza, the pass itself the saddle of the Monla Karchung, where the track crossing into Tibet is located. He decided that he would rest for a while at the labza and eat the lazi, the specially prepared food to be eaten at the labza which his mother had so lovingly packed. He was only a few paces away from the pile of rocks that marked the labza when there was suddenly a tremendous thunderous cracking, crushing, and roaring noise. Everything around seemed to rumble and tremble uncontrollably. Before the pilgrim realized what was happening he felt as if a mat was being pulled away from under his feet. Then he felt himself falling, falling into a deep hole. Remarkably he landed on something soft. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. He could not even begin to guess where he was. He sat there petrified that something even more terrible would happen to him. In his mind he could hear a voice saying, “pray, visualize Chenrezi”, but his untrained mind wandered and intense fear gripped him. He began to tremble and shake so violently that he had to hold onto something lest he fall off the object he was sitting on. Frantically he groped around with his hands until he caught hold of something shaggy that felt like the mane of a horse. But of course that was not possible, so he assumed it must have been some dried moss. He held on to it and chanted the syllables Om Mani Padme Hung loudly while his mind raced widely and he could hardly follow the trend of his own thoughts.
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.