THE ANGEL'S DECEPTION

I never believed in magic. NEVER. Nor rituals. I saw rituals and magics as nothing but complete shenanigans. I was a radical man, a man of science as some call it. I believed in scientific medication but my brother, who is a monk, believed in rituals and mantras. 

Our grandpa had been sick for almost a year. Under my guidance, we took him to the best hospital and my brother convinced us to perform all kinds of rituals, grand and modest. Against my will and wish, we also did all sorts of offerings and prayers but nothing seemed to work. We were really desperate help get our grandpa better.

On the 16th of February, 2010. My brother dragged me to Tamshing Lhakhang, a 15th century temple located in Jakar, Bumthang. We went to offer prayers and butter lamp in the name of our dying grandpa.

We reached the temple quite early during the day but the caretaker was not around. We waited for sometime and after a while, a young boy, about 10 years of age, walked out of the temple, carrying a big heavy bag. 

After waiting for a while, we saw The Caretaker hurrying towards us. He led us inside the temple and as we walked inside the altar, the Caretaker looked at me and asked. 

"Did someone enter the temple before us?"

Confused and a little tensed, I replied,

 " Yes a little boy just walked out as we were waiting."

"Who?" The Caretaker replied, even more confused.

He thought for sometime and his eyes shone with realization as anger dawned upon his otherwise calm face. 

"What happened? " I asked, confused and tense that something must have happened. 

The Caretaker pointed toward the statue but I found nothing wrong. 

"He took all the ngyendhar (money offerings) and the tshogs (food offerings). 

"This little brat always steals the money and takes the food. Sometimes, he even takes the alcohol kept in the main shrine and sells it in the village." 

"Why not inform his parents?" I suggested to The Caretaker.

"He is not from here. Nobody knows who brought him here, probably some poor family ditched him here in hope of him getting enrolled here as monk." After saying this, a wave of empathy took over his face and he calmed down a bit. 

"Poor kid. He is an absolutely brilliant kid, some say he is a Tulku too. But nobody cares for him. So, he is now defiled and as good as you and I."

I felt empathetic for the boy but also felt enraged at his behaviour too. 

As we walked out of the temple, we saw the boy along with few other monks and kids from the village, he is in the center of group, distributing instant noodles and sweets; probably bought with the money he stole.

I was angry at him for stealing from the temple but my brother advised me that everyone has Buddha in us. If it were some other time, I would have called the boy over and scolded him for stealing. As I looked over at him. He smiled as he saw me, I forced grin. He then followed me around as I walked around the temple. 

After following me for a while, he jumped infront of me and began his barrage of questions. At one point, I was clearly frustrated and my brother was clearly I enjoying it. 

After a while, I just ignored his questions and replied it with whatever came to my mind. I was just sleep walking through all his questions when he stopped and looked me dead in the eye and asked "Someone in your family is sick right?"

"Help me and I will help you. I know a great astrologer up in the mountain, I will ask him to do rituals and pujas for you."  Part of me wants to shoo him away but I also wondered how he knew and recalled the time The Caretaker told me how he was a Tulku. I agreed to go along with his request, not to help him but to prove myself that Tulku and reincarnations are nothing but a huge facade. I was sure that he is trying to be friendly with me to get something from me. However, I asked him out of curiosity "What kind of help do you want?" 

"Buy me a Gameboy,  not the cheap one, the one that cost Nu. 900." He replied with a firm tone. I watched as my brother walked around the corner of the temple. 

Deep inside, I really wanted to say no and shoo him away. I was hesitant  but after a while I said yes just because I believed that giving him 1000 Nu is better than offering thousands of Ngultrum Infront of a statue that doesn't feel a thing. 

My brother gave me a look of disbelief when I told him I want to help that kid. Anyway, I took the kid to the town and bought him the Gameboy he asked and I dropped him back to Tamshing. 

After a few weeks, police came knocking my door. They dragged both my brother and I to the police station as the prime suspect in theft of religious artifacts from Tamshing temple. I was confused and equally frustrated for this wild accusations. 

The Caretaker was determined to pin the accusations on us and the police are quite sure that we did it as nobody has visited the temple on 16th of February, 2010, other than the two of us. As the court hearing dragged on for months, we had to move our grandfather to my mother in-laws place.

After few months of running back and forth between the court and police station. The high court passed the judgement against us, which means life imprisonment. We then appealed to the Supreme Court in Thimphu.

The supreme court asked for any evidence  or testimony to support our claim that we are innocent. Just then I recalled the young boy and remebered him walking out with the bag. It was in no way related to my case and I had no idea in what way or shape would that help me prove my point. I was desperate and was ready to throw him under the bus if it meant saving my own skin. I told the judges that a boy walked out of the temple carrying a black bag on the day the artifact was lost. I wanted to say that the boy was stealing money and foods from the temple and he must have done it. But I never got myself to say it.

However, the judges called the boy and brought him all the way from Bumthang to Thimphu.

Inside the court, the boy stood in front of the judges, as carefree as I first saw him. He looked just as carefree and calm as I saw him few months ago. He kept smiling at me with a warm and calm face.

The atmosphere inside the court was cold and heavy. Everyone looked pale and worn down, even The Caretaker seemed a little worried too. Silence ensued as the Clergy finished reading our appeal letter and the Judges flipped through the pages. I could hear my own heartbeat.  

A long tense silence followed.

Before the Judges could say anything, the boy shouted in a sharp voice "If it is about the golden bowl and the butter lamp, I told many times to the police, I took it to do some rituals for the local deity. I gave it back to the Caretaker. I heard he sold it to Malik Dawala." His statement left everyone puzzled and even more confused. Turns out that the boy took the bowl and the butter lamp to play with his friends and returned it few days later to the Caretaker. By that time, the police were already informed and we were already brought in for questioning. The Caretaker took the chance and sold the artifacts off to a local businessmen.

Fast forward to 3 months later, The Caretaker got imprisoned for 30 years in prison without parole. My brother and I were acquitted of all the charges and the boy was sent back to Bumthang.

After few days,  I completely forgot about the boy. Weeks went past without much happening, One day, an old monk, claiming to be an astrologer from the mountains, knocked on our door begging for alms. 

The astrologer initially asked for some alms and when he saw our grandfather, he asked us if he can spend the night there, and just like that he stayed with us for 7 days. During which he conducted some extensive rituals. Although, we never saw or heard from him since, our grandfather miraculously got better after a week.

Since the day the Astrologer walked in, I got flooded with questions. Although I have come to terms with the fact that I may never understand it; I still ponder on what really happened. Sometimes, it just feels like a fever dream and the only testament of it being true were the months of stress and pain we underwent trying to prove our innocence in the court.

After grandpa got better and under his advice, I went in search of the boy all over Bhutan but to no avail. If we had phones back then, I would have snapped a picture and went looking for him. 

A guy in the village told me that the boy is from Kurtoe. Following this lead, I even went to Kurtoe and questioned everyone there, but no one seemed to have lost a kid of his age or have any clue about him.

Oddly enough, I learned that the boy appeared in Bumthang just few weeks before the incident on 16th of February, 2010. The monks and the people there, doesn't even seem to know him well enough. Some called him Aup Khengpa, mistaking him to be from the Kheng region of Zhemgang and Mongar. Some called him Tempala and some called him Kurtoep. But nobody knows for sure what his real name is or who he really is.

I drowned in ocean of questions. Who is he? Where is he from? Was that astrologer sent by him as he promised or is it just a coincidence? Why did he take the artifacts on the very day we visited the temple? Was it all an ordeal for me? Was the trials and hearings court, the price we had to pay for our grandpa to get better? 

I cannot help but think about how things could have turned if I gave in to my anger and scolded him that day? What if I never bought him that Gameboy?

Was he testing my kindness and patience with all those misdemeanors? Or is it a blessing from the gods and deities we prayed to for months on end? 

 

Too many what ifs and hows.

Sometimes, I wonder if he truly existed or if he is even human. Only thing that soothes my curious soul is to concede to the faith and belief that he is the answer to all my prayers. I never believed in miracles but it happened, not with a wave of a wand or click of a finger but with months of stressful trial and hearings in the court. It tested me to the core and pushed me way beyond my limit. It questioned my purpose and my will to exist. In the end, it made me a believer; a man of faith.  

I stopped asking questions a long time ago. I just like to believe that he exists somewhere; maybe all grown up and strong. Or maybe, he is still that very child I saw him back in the days. 

I love to make myself believe that he is an immortal like Peter Pan, selecting ego filled agnostic atheist like me and turning us into a devout man of faith through months of ordeal. More than anything,  I learned that I don't have to go looking for him, he exists in my heart and he will do so until the day I breath my last. 

It seems like a huge coincidence, doesn't it? But I do believe in miracles, you just have to be willing to sacrifice and pay the price.