Beet Root Juice On a Full Moon Night

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On a full moon night in early autumn, I sit on a hill overlooking a strange yet breathtakingly beautiful town. There are lights of different shades and hues decorating the town. A cool autumn air is blowing gently. I am the only live soul inhabiting this place at this point of time. It is almost 1 am in the morning. The full moon hangs low in the western sky like a freshly churned out ball of butter. There are fewer starts tonight.

I hear a faint soft sound of somebody playing a bamboo flute. At first, the sound is merely recognizable. As I listen with rasp attention, the melody from the flute intensifies. It pierces the darkness and travels through the swishing trees at midnight. A feeling of ecstasy runs through my veins. For a moment, a feel goosebumps all over my body. Is an angel playing the flute at this point of night? Are the demons celebrating a feast? I ask myself. But I am not afraid or things like that. I just feel I am in a different plane of existence. Normally, I would be scared to death even to step out of the room at night. But, tonight I am here, on a hill listening to melody of flutes from the woods.

As I immerse myself with the sound waves of the melody emanating from the flute, I can hear an additional music instrument. It sounds like a Dramngyen. The rhythm sounds perfect. The tempo and scale matches with that of the melody from the flute. I am not even surprised hearing all these. Instead, I feel extremely happy, as if I am in my dreamland.

Suddenly, a faint figure appears before me. It looks like the figure of a woman; slender, tall, and soft. I see her holding a long flute.  Gradually, I see she is walking closer to me. She has halos around her. Her face is glowing with exceptional beauty: the type of beauty you see only on wall paintings on Bhutanese temples of the goddess of the paradise. She gently takes the flute with her right hand and places on her soft lips. She blows the flute and maneuverers the holes of the flute with her soft slim fingers producing a soothing, heavenly music.

As I get completely engrossed with this, a group of beautiful young girls holding the Dramngyen joins the girl with the flute. 25of them in total. They all play a soothing song and gently dance. The dance, I have never seen before in my life. It is not a mask dance or a hip-hop or salsa or samba or zuma. So you can only imagine what it must have looked like. The group of girls come and hold my hand. They speak a unique language but strangely, I can understand them all. It is more than strange. I join the girls for the dance. I imitate them and they seem to like how I dance too.

Amidst all these magical moments, a girl from the group serves me what appears like a beet-root juice. It doesn’t taste at all like beet root though. It has a sweet, almost alcoholic taste. It is not the taste of wine, believe me. I take a sip of this liquid from a cup shaped like a conch shell. All these takes place at the backdrop of other girls playing flute, dramngyen and dancing. I love this liquid. It fills me with happiness. I have never been happier before. In fact, I seem to live only in the moment. I close my eyes and try to enjoy the experience.

When I opened my eyes, I could see no one. There was no flute and dramngyen. The moon was gone and the morning sun was almost rising. As I rubbed my eyes and tried to figure out what had really happened, I found myself shivering in Sangaygang (the place called BBS Tower, in thimphu). I rush back to my home, wash my face and light a butter lamp. I pray to the Buddha. I get hold of my Drambgyen and try to play a few notes. I am amazed I can play the same song that was played a few moments ago in my neither dream, nor real sort of night.
It is strange. I am still figuring out. May be I danced with khandromas. May be I danced with demons. I can only confirm on my next blog post. J


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