Kumnis, Pujas and Blessings (for a yet to be born Water Dragon...)

We've just had a double-whammie of blessings! First there was a Puja in the school. The local Llama came and he and his esteemed retinue began their chantings and prayers of blessing at 5:30am. By late morning the deep overtonic throat-sung Dzongkha was riding high in a herd of deep horns, a sonic stampede kept in loose rhythm by the regular tip-tap-tapping of the drums. In the air above it all, flocks of shrill arpeggios swirled with the high horns. The monks sat serenely throughout, unaffected by this tempestuous musical landscape of their own making, their lips intoning prayers, their fingers slowly turning the pages of their holy books.

The teachers drifted in and out of the hall throughout the day, went for walks, chatted over tea, prostrated before the altars and generally relaxed. The Puja lasted until 5pm with only a short break for lunch. The intensity of the chanting and the tempo waxed and waned but it all culminated in a soaring cacophony that would make Tom Waits green with envy. I was lucky enough to be there for the finale. I happened to be sat alone to one side, quietly meditating amongst the bedlam, eyes closed, ears open. The floor was resonating beneath me. Huge sack of boulders were being thrown around the room by the throaty voices. The shrill horns turned into air-raid sirens, and they were accompanied by what sounded like the whistle and whine of bombs being dropped. It was a sonic battlefield. Or a horde of beasts risen up from the underworld with some unknown but urgent purpose.

It took some discipline to not open my eyes and try to deconstruct the sounds, to try to locate their origins and understand how it was all working, but I opted for the aural landscapes over the visual. As the monks ushered the room to silence, fantasy worlds faded to white. It felt like they carefully steered the music down towards silence, much as a handler might cautiously shush an enraged elephant back to calm. Brilliant.

Then we received our second blessing. An honoured Guru Rinpoche came on the invitation of our Prinicpal. Guru Rinpoche is a title given to reincarnate Llamas, like the Dalai Llama. They are revered masters, esteemed scholars of the Dharma, so it was quite an honour for the school, and you could sense it. When he arrived he took a seat on the stage, portraits of the King and Queen behind him, images of previous Bhuddas and Rinpoches on the walls. He addressed the crowd in Dzongkha. Then he prayed. Then he started the blessings. I approached, well-attired in my Gho and with my Kumni in its formal position of respect.

The Kumni is the scarf we wear on special occasions. It isn't really a scarf in the normal sense – it goes down to the knee on your right and then up over the shoulder on your left. You start with each end held in a hand, the scarf passing over your shoulders behind you. Then you bend your left arm at the elbow and drape the right end over it. You now fold the left end back over the left shoulder by lifting your left palm to the shoulder, the right end still cinched at the elbow. Finally you hold the place where the two ends cross with your left hand (by your nipple), reach around for the hanging end behind you and yank it all tight from behind. I like the yanking, partly because it surprises me that it all doesn't just fall apart and fall to the floor. To show respect, you take the end off your shoulder and hold the Kumni out a bit like a bull-fighter does, except bowed and respectful, with the right end still draped at the elbow of the left. It's all a bit tricky  at first, but I think I've got it down. 

Have I lost you all? Good. That's how it feels when you first try to master one!

So I approached the Guru Rinpoche with my Kumni held forward, my mouth covered, and bent down to receive my blessing. All very well and good. When the teachers were all done, the students came up line by line and each received the same blessing. When the last line was marching up, I tagged myself onto the end and went up a second time. As I approached, instead of bowing before the Llama, I reached into my Gho and pulled out a photograph of my sister.

'She's having a baby in the next few weeks', I told him. 'He's in there...' I pointed at the place she keeps the baby. 'I was wondering if you could confer a blessing on the child?'

We chatted a little. He asked me if I was a teacher, how long I'd been here, what I taught, how long had my sister been pregnant etc. Then he held his Dorji (it contains lightening to ward of evil spirits) over the photograph and chanted a blessing for my unborn nephew. It's a good year for babies, especially boys... the year of the Male Water Dragon! Everybody wants a boy this year. Looks like the Greens are getting one.

It didn't end there... the Rinpoche visited on Saturday, the day after we had the Puja. Then another Rinpoche visited on Monday evening! He was a fifth incarnate of the Padsthaling Trulku, a Llama from Bumthang. He invited me to sit next to him on the stage for his teachings – all in Dzongkha. He was kind enough to give me a book to read, but I listened instead anyway.

So, three blessings for the school in a week, a few for me and one for an unborn Male Water Dragon. I think I was born a Snake. Of as yet unknown gender and element. I'm not happy about this! I need to find out more... I might be a female wind snake. I want to be a Male Water Dragon. Who wouldn't?