Radio Shangri-La_ What I Learned in Bhutan, the Happiest Kingdom on Earth - Lisa Napoli [29]
“This is the fastest-growing capital in Asia, after all. I still can’t quite believe how big we’ve become in just the last few years.” Sir Tenzin waved his hand at all the construction.
“Imagine the Kuzoo studio in a glass building. Topped with the traditional Bhutanese structure, of course.” He laughed again.
Even from high above the city, I could see how unlikely a proposition this was. The thought of modern buildings popping up high above the traditional ones, disturbing the order of the cityscape, was unsettling. Yet if Akon and Christina Aguilera could dominate the airwaves—if cupcakes were being baked and Coca-Cola swigged and a person like me had been allowed in—anything was possible. Just as Bhutan was undergoing a cultural invasion that threatened to erode its unique foundation, its capital city might someday, not very long from now, look like any other.
Watching Bhutan change over time would be like watching a baby grow, I thought. I already felt a little maternal and protective of this unusual country, worried for its future.
Sir Tenzin continued. “You know, I wanted Kuzoo FM 90 to be Kuzoo 108,” he said. The number 108 was sacred in Buddhism. It was the number of volumes in the Kanjur, the Buddhist scripture. Sir Tenzin’s innate prowess for marketing was admirable, given that he was trained as an educator and raised in a country whose very foundation was anti-materialistic. “The Ministry of Information and Communication wouldn’t let me have it, though. The planes use the frequency 107 to communicate. Too close on the dial, too much chance for interference.”
He shook his head, then looked out the windshield. “I love the BBS logo,” he declared, crumbling bits of his cupcake into his hand so as not to lose a single bite. “The conch shell.” He motioned toward the sign near the transmission tower. Little squiggles denoting “transmission” radiated from the sides of the shell. It was at once cute and elegant.
“How did that get to be the symbol of the broadcaster?” A conch shell seemed a peculiar icon for a landlocked country.
“The conch is one of Buddhism’s eight lucky signs. It is believed to awaken sentient beings from their sleep, their state of ignorance,” Sir Tenzin said, licking his fingers. “Also, back in the villages, the conch was how people used to make announcements.”
“Before BBS, and then Kuzoo, of course.”
“Yes.” Sir Tenzin smiled and washed down his last bite of cupcake with a swig of soda. A combination of the sweets and the excitement of his new mission gave Sir Tenzin’s face a look of contentment. It was clear he believed he had the best job in the world.
5
GOD OF THE NIGHT
IF YOU WALKED INTO ANY VILLAGE IN ALL OF BHUTAN and shouted “Karma,” a quarter of the heads would turn. There are only about fifty names in the whole country. A monk blessed a baby with a duo of them shortly after birth. There are no familial surnames, and most names are unisex. So it is entirely possible that a family could be made up of a mother named Karma Wangdi and a father named Karma Lhamo, a child named Karma Choden, and another named Lhamo Wangdi. It is only in the last quarter century that birth certificates have been kept; many Bhutanese older than that don’t know their exact date or even year of birth, another reminder that even today in the bustling city of Thimphu, a simple, rural life isn’t so far away. As Bhutan becomes more modern, some of the more daring Bhutanese parents break tradition in order to distinguish themselves, altering the spelling of familiar names or abbreviating them. Or by forgoing the monk and choosing the names themselves.
Tsheten Denkar was the monk-given moniker of the