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Koma Tsachu – therapy and life

26 April 2008

img_0345.jpgZen master Dogen said, “If you walk in the mist, you get wet.” We decided to walk in the mountain mists of Punakha and get utterly soaked in the hot springs of Koma Tsachu. The mountains beat in every Bhutanese heart. No matter how much development and science envelops us in its automated caress, the smell of the mountains and hills is forever entwined in our being. They are the abode of the gods and our source of sustenance.

Early morning, we drove at leisure through a pleasant two-and-half-hour journey. We crossed a radiant Dochula Pass cloaked in an auspicious mist. We passed a lazy Khuruthang town painted in concrete staidness, across the magnificent Punakha Dzong that overlooked a traditional cantilever bridge under construction.Three kilometers past Goen Shari Primary school, we arrived at the road-head of Mitsegang. This was the last stop for our vehicle.

As we alighted, a village woman approached us in characteristic gentle fashion for the services of a mule. Though we were hardly bearing much luggage for the brief mountain sojourn we agreed to one mule with the intention of not getting lost in the treacherous mountain trail. They don’t call us city slickers for nothing.

From Mitsegang settlement, we crossed a pedestrian suspension bridge and began the trek to the Koma Tsachu. The local informed us that it was a two-hour trek. I instinctly encrypted a mental note of “three hours to destination”. This reflected more a total mistrust in our own physical abilities than in our honest village folk’s adeptness at the art of understatement.

Two villagers appeared ferrying CGI sheets at an exaggerated slanted angle across the entire stretch of the narrow suspension bridge. They would carry their heavy load all the way to the village, a good two hour’s steep climb away. Their sheer sturdy grace and strength was a very humbling sight for all urban weaklings like us.

The trail started wide and easy. The afternoon heat was smothered by the cool shadows of tall temperate trees whose thick foliage punctured the vast blue sky intermittently. A warm breeze, whispering a popular Native American saying, swept by – “I have never seen a tree with a thousand branches that ever fought with each other.” This harmony is intertwined in the entire tapestry of the jungle. All along the gentle trail, nettle leaves and ‘dog leaves’ grow together. Comfrey leaves, popularly nicknamed nit-bone, lined the trail if ever one fell down and hurt a bone.

Our easy trot lasted a much too brief 15 minutes when we were confronted by a vertical barricade of a thin trail woven into a steep mountainous climb. We felt nature remedying all our accumulated physical defilements during the entire lung-bursting climb. Never mind that 65-year-old Apa Goembo, who was accompanying us, hardly broke a sweat or gait. He had been a porter on this trail for the last 10 years by trade and was a remarkable repository of local folklore and history.

He narrated to us how the Koma Tsachu, further upstream, had once been blocked by the locals due to the intrigues of regional geo-politics. However the tsachu had subsequently resurfaced at the present location. The name, Koma, connotes this secretive history of its origins.

After a hard hour and a half climb, our drooping energy refurbished only by Apa Goembo’s rich narratives and an ostentatious
amount of fluids, the path went into a gentle descent for the remainder of the trek. The faint whine of a chainsaw, the murmur of the river’s torrent and the occasional glitter from distant CGI sheets signalled our imminent arrival.

The gateway to the Koma Tsachu is a narrow stone staircase leading to a sturdy wooden pedestrian bridge across a small foaming river. Nestled alongside the creek in this picturesque jungle were the three pools of the hot springs. Amongst the scattering of tents and makeshift camps were two public toilets, three outdoor running taps and a most decent guest house of five rooms and two attached bathrooms, facilitated with solar electricity and water supply. Here, the music of modern amenities played in rhythm with the wild beat of the jungle drums.

Koma Tsachu sees revellers and visitors round the year. Spring-time sees the most influx while the student hordes invade the tsachu during holidays. There were about 30 people when we arrived. The majority of them were old people from adjoining villages, a businessman with his family, an election officer on a break, a small group of elderly nuns, a couple from Bumthang and a group from Tashigang. There were also many pilgrims frequenting the tsachu as Tsephu, the sacred caves where Guru Padmasambhava meditated, is about a two-hour walk away. Tsephu remains every pilgrim’s spiritual hotspot in the region.

All travellers to the tsachu shared in common the love of nature, faith in its healing prowess and also pertinently – gas cylinders! Except for hedonistic, convenience seeking, short-sighted city dwellers like us.

Our struggle to prepare dinner was a comedy at best and a tragic struggle at worst. To cut a long painful story short, we had rice porridge and vegetable soup for dinner. Fortunately, the tea looked and tasted like tea while hunger relished the dinner for all its worth. However, from the smoked-out and burnt smell of over-stirred rice and watery vegetables arose a deep tenderness for the warmth of nourishment. In our urban lives, we organize our lives to such a predictable regimen that the sheer joy of living tends to get jaded. Santayana wrote, “There is wisdom in turning as often as possible from the familiar to the unfamiliar. It keeps the mind nimble, kills prejudice and fosters humor.”

The jungles echoed with our laughter throughout dinner time – at our sorry ineptitude, our brave struggle against the elements and, finally, in profound appreciation of a dinner gone completely wrong.

Tsachus are Mother Nature’s perfect remedy. The physical body finds reinvigoration in the famed healing properties of the hot springs. All life’s woes and distractions dissolve in the deep stillness of nature. One finds utter solace in the complete richness of nature’s bounty. A respected tsampa or yogi, meditating for the last 16 years in the nearby sacred Tsephu site emphatically remarked that the rejuvenating effect on our bodies was truly remarkable if one invested at least 15 days or more.

Koma Tsachu is truly a Bae-yul, a hidden valley of great natural splendour and providence. We had only as recently as a week ago stumbled upon its existence.

Altogether, the facilities available at Koma Tsachu are very impressive and adequate relative to its location and vague existence. All the pools are well maintained by the local authorities with CGI roofs, notices detailing the healing properties of the individual pools, wood paneling on all sides and additional camping amenities.

Curiously, many visitors even preferred to camp in the natural caverns scattered around than in the empty guest room. It was an easy choice for them. The smell of everybody’s shoes and socks were no match for the pristine outdoor air of the warm temperate nights.

As I wrapped myself in the healing prowess of the warm waters and my senses cloaked in the rich natural beauty of the wild surroundings, my mind came alive to the richness of nature’s designs. In thus observations, external objects became catalysts,companion pieces, to inner understanding. Deep in the jungles and high in the clouds, inside our skins and pulsating in our being, the truism comes powerfully alive that the best things in life are indeed free.

And so many of us abuse it for profit and become jaded to its intrinsic beauty.

Koma Tsachu inspires in us a deep awe for our natural resources and a lasting appreciation for the manner in which we are preserving these critical habitats of such great beauty. When go up to them, we experience hardship and find ourselves overcome with what the Chinese call “rustic joy.” They provoke a different kind of breathing, as human entanglements
come unravelled and vision clears. To be here at any time of the year instructs us about how natural beauty saves us all.

By Phuntsok Rabten

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