Radio Shangri-La_ What I Learned in Bhutan, the Happiest Kingdom on Earth - Lisa Napoli [93]
This was not in any way interpreted as a condemnation of the beloved monarchy. It was seen as a rejection of the king’s family. Since His Majesty had insisted that democratic rule was the best form of government, armchair political analysts interpreted the landslide in favor of the DPT as evidence his subjects understood the importance of electing a slate of candidates who were less tied to him.
The members would serve for five years. The DPT chief Jigme Thinley was appointed prime minister, and my Villa Italia host Lyonpo Ugyen was indeed installed as foreign minister. Immediately, the new lawmakers got down to work. Viewers who tuned into the BBS in the middle of the day no longer saw a placeholder camera trained on Thimphu Valley; they could witness the nation’s first-ever parliamentary proceedings, live as they happened. The democracy that had been foisted upon them was to be as transparent as possible, and there was no better way to do that than to telecast the governmental sessions each day.
One of the first acts of business of the new parliament was the ratification of the years-in-the-making constitution. Monks chanted as Bhutan’s fifth Dragon King signed three copies of the historic document—one in English, two in Dzongkha, one of those inscribed in gold—to enact it officially. The forty-seven National Assembly members and twenty-five representatives of the National Council then each solemnly approached the throne and added their signatures, a long process broadcast to the people to remind them that they now had a voice in their governance. (Even if it was a responsibility they hadn’t requested.) The sacred documents were immediately put on display for the people to behold. All who visited were given bound copies to take home, as well as little juice boxes and a coin as tokens of appreciation. Heavy rain and a flood marked the day, which some interpreted as a sign that even nature was shaken up by the occasion.
This unprecedented document spelled out equality for all; the rights to vote, to life, liberty, and security; and to freedom of speech and religion—although Buddhism was still classified as the official religion, and criticism of the royal family was still verboten. The majority of the assembled citizens who braved the rain to attend the ceremony were actually there for another reason: to gaze at an enormous, sacred, century-old religious scroll called a thongdrel, unfurled in commemoration of the historic event for a rare public display. It is believed that those who stand in the presence of this tapestry will accumulate much merit. One woman said she had trekked for hours from a faraway village in order to see it and soak up the karma it offered. She hadn’t been aware—until a reporter told her—that the reason it was being exhibited was because of the new constitution. Another woman, a farmer, had asked her husband to accompany her into Thimphu to see the king because she had heard that his powers had been diffused. She was very sad about this development, and wanted the chance to see her beloved monarch in person.
In that summer of 2008, constitutional freedoms were still less important to many Bhutanese than their devotion to Buddhism and their king.
IN THE MIDST of these changes in Bhutan, which I followed online from afar, Ngawang resurfaced. For months I’d been unsuccessfully looking for clues to her whereabouts. I felt a combination of guilt and annoyance and intrigue by her disappearance. No one at Kuzoo FM back in Thimphu had seen her or heard from her. There was no activity on her Facebook page. Calls to her friend Milloni went unreturned. No one on the other end of the numbers she’d dialed in New York returned my calls, either, nor had the mythic sister in Nebraska ever materialized. I had no number for the faraway Mr. Japan. I considered calling Ngawang’s father, since his number was recorded in my Skype, but decided against it. After all, Ngawang was a grown woman