The Gift of a Smile

It was March, 2006; we had just finished high school and set our eyes on college. I and a couple of friends decided to go see the Paro Tshechu. It was a hurried plan and we made it there on the 3^rd day. We stayed at one of my friend’s cousin’s house in town. As much as we wanted to witness the masked dances and be blessed by the Guru Tshengye Thongdrol, we were also there to have fun at the fair that had been set up for the festival, at the very end of Paro town.

The Tshechu Grounds

Trashi Gomang

On our second day some more friends joined us from Thimphu. We witnessed the dances, my favorite among them being the "Dance of the Judgement of Death", in the morning and made our way to the fair in the evening. We stayed in another friend’s empty apartment the next night. Her family was really warm; they made us really comfortable, we had home food, and our conversation carried on till the wee hours of the morning.

Shinje Chhogyel in "Dance of the Judgement of Death"

On the day of the Thongdrol we woke up really early and made our way up to the Tshechu grounds adjacent the Paro Dzong. We had to leave our cars in town and walk all the way up. It was an immensely moving experience to move with the crowd towards the breathtaking Guru Tshengye Thongdrol and seek blessings. After we prayed and sought blessings we silently looked on till the sun came up and the Thongdrol was rolled up for the year.

Guru Tshengye Thongdrol

As we watched the dances and walked amongst the numerous stalls that were put up for entertainment I felt a tug on my Gho and turned to see an old man grinning at me. He was dressed in his festival best, his face covered in innumerable wrinkles and his bald head shining brilliantly in the blazing sun; but apart from all this, what caught my eye, and made me and my friends smile, was his ear-to-ear grin. He had very few teeth and one amongst it stood out prominently in his upper jaw. It was a toothy smile, quite literally!

I and my friends wished him Kuzu Zangpo and he wished the same back to us. He then said, “Soelra Chi Zhugey La” (can I have a gift please). Our smiles widened; but before we proceeded to part with our money we asked him to do us one favour, which he was more than willing to grant us. I whipped out my camera and asked him to pose. 

He gave the best toothy smile he could muster and as I caught the moment in my camera, that image was burned forever in my mind. Here was a man who had been through so much in his life, if that could be surmised from the wrinkles on his face or the sparse hair on his head, yet he still had that smile and a child-like fervour about him. If anyone asked me what Gross National Happiness meant, this would be my answer!

 We all gifted him some cash, he thanked us, and then he was lost in the crowd in the next moment. Though we “gifted” him some money, I reckon he gave us a gift for which we could never repay him back – the “gift” of his toothy, childish, smile.