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A highlight of any journey to the Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan is attending one of the colorful religious festivals ('tsechu') which are faithfully celebrated across the country each Spring and Autumn. Here, in a land where belief in the Buddha permeates every aspect of life, whole communities flock to receive blessings, socialize and witness spectacular performances of ancient masked dances and allegorical dramas.

The discordant blare of trumpets and the clash of cymbals greets the entrance of the first dancers. They wear stag masks and tasseled costumes of vibrant yellow silks. A hush falls across the throngs of spectators as they watch the dancers' dramatic movements and balletic leaps. This is a re-enactment of the Buddhist parable of the stags and the hound: a confirmation of the ultimate triumph of good over evil and the power of compassion.

Every Bhutanese knows these Buddhist stories by heart, but the dances and music have a mesmeric quality and they never tire of them. Even the children watch intently. The spiritual power is palpable.

Both monks and lay people take part in 'tsechu' dances. To participate is a great honor and must be done as an act of meditation, the dancer seeking to personify the deity that they are portraying.

'Tsechus' take place in temple courtyards. The centuries-old architecture is a fitting backdrop to dances and dramas that are believed to have survived unchanged for over 1,000 years. There is no room for improvisation - every move is exactly prescribed, a recreation of visions seen by Bhutan's Buddhist Saints many centuries ago. And the festivals themselves are dedicated to the greatest of those Saints: the revered Guru Padmasambhava, "he who was born of a lotus flower," who first introduced Buddhism to Bhutan in about 800 AD.

Although the Bhutanese take their religious rituals very seriously, 'tsechus' are far from solemn occasions. Families picnic and meet up with old friends while butter tea and 'chang' - a potent barley liquor - are consumed in large quantities. Moreover, the religious dramas are interspersed with interludes of ribald clowning and traditional folk dances. Young women, wearing traditional gowns and with their hair stylishly bobbed, perform folksongs, gently swaying as they sing.

Foreign visitors are welcome, but the Bhutanese Government is at pains to stress that these are not commercialized festivals put on for the benefit of tourists and their dollars. Rather they are an expression of real and deeply held religious belief.

We had been encouraged to dress well as a mark of respect and were glad that we had done so when we saw that the Bhutanese audience had dressed up in all their finery: the men wearing their best 'goh' robes, the women dressed in finely woven and embroidered 'kira' gowns, with short jackets of Chinese silk and ropes of beads around their necks.

During a lull in the action we venture up a narrow staircase into the temple. At the top we find ourselves in a narrow altar room, its every surface carved and painted in a riot of patterns and colors. Three golden Buddha images stand on the altar, each illuminated by a cluster of tiny butter lamps. The very air in the room is ancient. We feel as if we have stepped back in time.

Suddenly, two huge masked beings loom up out of the shadows. They lunge at us playfully and dance around, brandishing bells and Buddhist ritual implements. We know that they are play-acting and yet their jocularity is tinged with menace. We smile and try to look respectful, feeling both intimidated and elated to be the object of their attentions.

The monstrous deities lunge again and a velvet pouch is produced. Clearly a donation is in order - it is a brave person who refuses the deities! We give a generous sum and, satisfied, they clatter and swirl off down a dark corridor, back into the depths of the temple.

We turn to peer out of the altar room's carved windows. Down in the courtyard below, the dances are again in full swing. We look down on a kaleidoscope of twisting and leaping dancers in elaborate headdresses and brocade robes. In a far corner a group of young women have cornered the clown and are enjoying giving him a ritual telling-off. Children play peek-a-boo and a group of teenagers have positioned themselves high on the courtyard wall for the best views.

We descend back to the courtyard just as the trumpets and cymbals rise to a crescendo, heralding the entrance of the Lords of the Cremation Grounds, among the most terrifying of deities. Clad as skeletons, complete with skull masks, these fearsome dancers re-enact the subjugation of demonic powers. Meanwhile, 'Ging' deities perform a mass exorcism of evil spirits, beating on drums and rushing through the audience. It's a thrilling performance.

The day's festivities draw to a close, and we head for the temple gateway. Just outside entrepreneurial locals have laid out tempting trinkets for sale on stripped cloths: beads and semi-precious stones, ritual implements and metal statuettes of gods and goddesses. We buy a heavy metal bracelet in the form of a carved dragon, encircling the wrist, and another engraved with the eight sacred symbols of Buddhism—both fine souvenirs of the Land of the Thunder Dragon and the religious faith that is an inescapable part of the Bhutanese people's daily lives.

Text and Photos © Lucy Moss

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