Trails and Treasures

Starting around 9:30 a.m. on the third and last day of the drubchen, the pazap squads left their camps for the dzong–one group at a time.

There seemed to be no particular order or formation in the way they arrived or ascended the staircase.  Here’s squad one–

and squad two–

I was quite surprised at the informality of the arrival process; it was all so un-military. 

Then we had a one to 1 1/2-hour wait while the pazaps participated in a ceremony in the dzong courtyard.  Since it was an either/or choice between the dzong courtyard or the exterior of the dzong because of the staircase, we had elected to stay outside.

In contrast to the pazaps entrance into the dzong, their exit was highly dramatic–and prolonged.  The pazaps exited in pairs or triplets yelling and brandishing their swords as they descended to the staircase landing.  Other pazaps added to the noise of the simulated battlefield by setting off firecrackers.

Here they performed a sword dance with more yelling.

Pazap yelling and brandishing sword

Back at the top of the staircase, something was going on with the monks.

Monks at top of staircase

Here’s another pazap who had to perform the dance while holding a standard.

Another Pazap with standard brandishing sword

I couldn’t usually see the second or third pazap, but in this case I caught two in my photo.

The last member of the squad to descend was the general.

But he didn’t dance.  He just walked down and mounted his horse.  From my vantage point, I couldn’t tell who was twirling the standard.

Here’s the next horse waiting for his general.

The generals exited in four directions, so I had one chance to grab a photo.

With 136 pazaps and 8 generals, we knew it was going to take a while for everyone to do their dance and exit the dzong.  So, we moved our location to get a good spot for the finale.

The Zhabdrung’s “army” consisted of eight local militia.  At the drubchen there are just 17 pazaps or warriors in each of the squads, for a total of 136, and each squad has a general.  Only men belonging to the Wang Tshochengye – the eight great clans or geogs situated within the boundaries of the Thimphu and Punakha regions-can play the role of a pazap.

Pazaps

Pazap General

Pazap Footwear

The pazaps gather before the drumchoe begins; each squad setting up its own camp.

Pazap Encampment outside dzong

Pazaps’ horses grazing outside dzong

 

After the pazaps ascend the dzong’s entrance stairway, they perform a dance.

Pazaps dancing

Inside the dzong they create a circle inside a square and perform a ceremonial dance or procession around the courtyard.  Sporadically the warriors set off fireworks simulating the firing of guns into the air.

Pazaps Dancing in Dzong Courtyard

Upon the completion of this dance, they all sat down in two sets of facing rows.  A monk then read a long document which I assume had something to do with their obligations, a mixture of rules and goals that included a pep talk since at various times the warriors would whoop it up.  At the end, the pazaps pledged an oath of allegiance.

Pazaps listening to their charge

Then it was time to inspect the troops.  Among the dignitaries doing the inspection were the local member of parliament, district manager, and other high ranking officials.

Inspecting the Troops

When the formal ceremonies were complete, a prolonged photo op began.  Each group got its chance to be photographed with the dignitaries, starting with the generals.

Generals and Dignitaries at Photo Op

The masked dances (or cham) began with what I interpreted as four stags.  It may have been the Shacham or Shazam Cham, but these stags had ankle-length red robes not the knee-length yellow ones I found reference to on the internet.

Mask dances have their roots in 8th century Tibetan Buddhism.  Many of the dances seen today were choreographed in the 17th century or earlier.  Supposedly all of the dancers are monks or male members of the Royal Academy of Performing Arts.

After this dance, a group of young people performed a dance.  I gathered from Pelden that the introduction of non-mask dances (and women) is something new.

Next came a dance that began with at least three different figures which I interpreted as a garuda (bjachung), wild boar (phabi), and a raven.

Note the object in his left hand below–and the wedding ring.  Do monk’s wear wedding rings?

This dancer has something different in his hand.

Perhaps the figure on the right is a raven.  It doesn’t have horns. 

Then came a group in red rather than blue robes.

This one might be a “terrifying deity”.

Maybe a monkey?

Perhaps the judge (ox)?

This may be the snake.

These have multiple faces

The musicians stood along the side.

Note the men behind the musicians–the pazaps.  We’ll get to them in another post.

There obviously was a story behind the dance, but the cast of characters does not seem to match up with any on this list.  Nor do all of the masks appear on this list.  But my guess is this was the Raksha Marcham or Mangcham (Judgement of the Dead).  It was forty minutes from the point at which the masked dancers began after the young women finished until my last photo of the dance when we left for lunch.  If this was the Raksha Mangcham, it continued on for a couple more hours.

I timed my visit to Punakha to coincide with the three-day Punakha Dromchoe.  The Punakha Domchhoe is attended by thousands of people from all over the kingdom, as well as a few tourist. (I mean that literally, not facetiously.)  The three-day drubchen is part of a  two-week celebration that includes a tsechu (which I didn’t attend).  In 2010, the Domchoe was February 21-23.

I’ve hunted around on the internet for details about what I saw, but the best I found was a schedule from some unknown year and a story on RAOnline.  Unsurprisingly, not much jives with what I saw.

We arrived at the dzong around 9 a.m. where we were greeted by monks offering blessings in the form of neck cords and some sort of awful-tasting pellets.  Soon thereafter the grand procession began.

Men are required to wear a kabney (silk scarf) which indicates their rank when they are inside an official building like a dzong.  For commoners, it’s a plain white, fringed kabney.  Gups or administrators of Bhutan’s 201 gewogs wear a kabney with a red stripe.  Additional stripes and different colors indicate different types of office holders.  If I remember correctly, Pelden introduced me to a man with a green stripe as one of the new members of parliament, but I won’t swear to that.

Note the traditional footwear.

After the procession, there was a wait.    I used the time to take pictures of my surroundings including a student group that congregated near where I sat. 

Punakha Dzong decked out for Drubchen

It wasn’t clear why this group of students were dressed in their school uniforms.  Perhaps they had come some distance to attend the festival or they would have some role later on.  They certainly had a prime location.

After about twenty minutes the first masked dancer appeared–but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.