“A Monk, a Professor, and a Student…”
Thimphu, Bhutan | Royal Thimphu College
Sometimes, the most unexpected moments are the ones that stay with you the longest.
Just before stepping into the faculty hall today, I found myself pausing—feet caught mid-stride, senses arrested by the sound of something timeless. I knew something special was goin on. Sitting near the edge of the veranda, framed by spring greens and the distant hush of pine-covered hills, was a professor in full gho, effortlessly coaxing a melody out of a dramyin, Bhutan’s traditional lute. Its long neck painted in bright florals, its voice resonant, echoing a tune older than any syllabus we carry. It takes a special skill to master this instrument.
To his left sat a young student—fully absorbed in playing his guitar. To his right, a monk listened, gently swaying with the rhythm. It wasn’t a performance. There was no actual audience, no announcement. Just a shared pause in the day. Three lives, three roles—blended by a single melody. This song, which I do not know the name of, apparently is a very powerful folk song about their beloved Bhutan. There isn’t a Bhutanese person who wouldn’t be moved by it.
In a place like Royal Thimphu College, moments like these thread the academic and the spiritual, the formal and the informal, into a rhythm all its own. The college becomes more than an institution—it becomes a living space of culture, of small harmonies, of passing wisdom, of stillness between schedules.
I almost didn’t take the video. I didn’t want to interrupt what felt like a kind of quiet magic. But I’m glad I did. Because here, in a land where prayer flags flutter with the wind and the clouds move like slow thoughts over the mountains, you’re reminded that learning doesn’t always happen in the classroom.
Sometimes, it’s what you stumble into on the way there.
June 2025