A most unusual museum opening

It was the day of the grand opening of the first Royal Textile Academy in Thimpu, the capital of Bhutan, land of mythology and magic.

This tiny little Buddhist kingdom ensconced like a pastoral child in the middle of two cantankerous giants India and China, was, in fact, preparing for two days of sublime festivity under the naked Himalayan skies.

Gyalyum Sangay Choden Wangchuck, The Queen Mother of Bhutan who is seen as the vanguard of Bhutanese textiles, called on guests, donors and patrons from as far away as Switzerland, Russia and Denmark to pay homage to and celebrate her country’s vibrant weaving traditions.

There was to be an elaborate opening ceremony preceding the unveiling of the museum, followed the next day by an elegant fashion show with two top Indian designers (Ritu Kumar and Rajesh Pratap Singh) and five young Bhutanese fashion design enthusiasts, presenting capsule collections appropriating Bhutanese fabrics and traditional motifs into modern day silhouettes.

But there was only one hitch. Both celebrations were smack-bang in the middle of a tumultuous monsoon.

There was much trepidation amongst the foreign guests (including me) that Her Majesty’s beloved festivities may be ruined by ominous cumulonimbus clouds looming large above our heads and even higher above the undulating mountains of the charming Bhutanese capital.

Seated amongst some fine dignitaries in the ceremonial area, I asked in nervous jest: Will the weather gods play havoc?

Without any hesitation, a graceful Bhutanese lady seated next to me smiled and said: “Absolutely not. Can you see the many monasteries that dot the mountains around you? Every monk in those far-away abbeys is chanting for the rain to stay away. And so it will.”

Half an hour into the event, the air exploded with ceremonial pomp and show and an overabundance of multihued costumes, age-old rituals and quaint cultural dances burst forth.

I unabashedly forsook good manners by picking up my iPhone to shoot out an immediate email to my friends in Bombay.

“Surreal. Right under the mighty Himalayas, under a blazing mountain sun, there is a Bhutanese royal ceremony taking place. The Queen Mother is speaking about the importance of indigenous textiles vis-à-vis cultural well-being, to an audience rapt, and wrapped in lush Bhutanese silks and weaves. It’s straight out of an exotic Merchant Ivory film that lyrically sets as protagonist a wise, ancient Buddhist kingdom warding off the ruthless ravages of time.”

I sat back and sighed, imagining the sonic power of the Buddhist chants resonating from distant monasteries to the high heavens above, gently stalling rains and ushering with love, a simple thing we don’t pay thanks for often enough —  glorious sunshine.

Bhutan you may say is a country. But in truth, it’s a physical manifestation of that place we tell our children to dive into in times of trouble — ‘the happy place’.