Dechhen had been practising her steps for several months now. It was all about the feet, Ajyang had said. Left foot back, right foot follows, then left foot forward; repeat eight times. Right foot back, left foot follows, then right foot forward; repeat eight times. Once you got that down, the hand movements were easy. For most of the dance, your arms were linked to other dancers anyway. 

Even though she had demonstrated her steps to her parents and convinced them she was ready, Dechhen felt extremely nervous. What if she was not ready? What if she messes up, and the Druk does not present themself? She had to get in some last-minute practice. Left foot back, right foot follows, then left foot forward; repeat eight times.

'Time to go, Dechhen!' Aama called out from outside.

'Coming, Aama!' Dechhen yelled back as she ran out the house where her parents were waiting, dressed in their finest attire. Aama was wearing a deep purple bakkhu with intricate gold embroidery and a gold blouse. Her large gold earrings matched the gold in her outfit, and around her neck she wore a necklace of turquoise and red coral. She was carrying baby Phurba, who was fast asleep on her back, held in place by a brown scarf wrapped tightly around Phurba and around Aama's waist.

'Are you excited, Dechhen?' Papa said, smiling. He was wearing a red bakkhu trimmed with a black border; intricate gold dragons jumping atop gold clouds were embroidered on his bakkhu. Underneath he wore a white blouse and black trousers with a strip of red going down the front, gold dragons jumping atop gold clouds on them. His dramnyen slung carelessly over his left shoulder. His hat, with a black woollen ridge and intricate gold patterns on top of red cloth, was a little askew. In his hands he was carrying a pair of small black fur boots.

Dechhen nodded without saying a word.

'Of course she is! Look at her, she is so excited she cannot speak!' Aama said, grinning.

'Come now, let's put on your boots,' Papa said, getting down on one of his knees. Dechhen leaned on her father's shoulder as he lifted her feet one at a time and fastened the boots on.

'I want to be carried like Phurba!' Dechhen said.

'Come on Dechhen, you are five now. You are too big to be carried,' Aama said, holding her hand and striding forward.

The little family made their way out of their small front yard and onto the stone-laid streets of Lulongla. It was fairly early in the morning; the cold was still just a little too sharp against Dechhen's cheeks that had turned bright red, and her nose was just a little runny. A thin mist clung to the air but was fast dissipating as the sun grew stronger. Dechhen balled her free hand into a loose fist and blew hot air into it; her hot breath soothed her stiff cold fingers.

Across the street, Aani Sonam was sweeping her front yard, dressed in a plain brown bakkhu that had been pulled up and tucked into her waist.

'Good morning Aani Sonam!' Dechhen called out, waving.

'Sonamla, you are not even dressed yet!' Aama exclaimed.

Aani Sonam looked up at the family and waved back. 

'All of you look so lovely!' she exclaimed. 'Dechhenla, you look so cute!'

'Thank you Aani!' Dechhen said, grinning. She knew she looked very nice, even if her bakkhu was a little too big for her; Aama said she would grow into it soon enough. Her dark blue bakkhu was adorned with light blue and silver embroidery that formed beautiful birds with intricate wings and feathers who were each carrying a sprig of delicate small flowers in their claws. Her blouse was white with silver clouds and floating flowers embroidered in silver thread.

'Why are you sweeping now? You should be leaving; you are going to be late!' Papa said.

'Just doing some quick chores Chocho; I will be leaving in 30 minutes! You lot go ahead!' Aani Sonam said, gesturing at them to keep going.

Papa shook his head as the family continued walking.

'This girl has no sense of time,' he said.

'Like brother like sister,' Aama quipped.

'What do you mean? I was ready before you were today!' Papa said indignantly.

'What about when you are herding the yaks and lose track of time, or when you are with your friends, or when you start talking to someone you meet on the streets...' Aama said.

Papa grunted, a little annoyed, but said nothing.

'Is Aamgaga going to meet us at the bottom of the steps?' Dechhen asked her mother.

'She has a lot to do, Dechhen, she will be at the Gumba,' Aama said.

'What about Ajyang?' Dechhen said.

'Ajyang will also probably be at the Gumba,' Aama said.

'And Gaga Denji?' asked Dechhen.

'Everybody will be at the Gumba.' Aama said.

'How come they won't come to meet us?' Dechhen asked.

'They have a lot to do, Dechhen, and we can get there on our own,' Aama said.

'Even Ajyang won’t come to see us?' Dechhen asked.

Aama sighed. 'This girl and her questions. We are going to see them at the Gumba anyway, Dechhen, Ajyang does not need to come to see us,' she said.

The streets were starting to get livelier; other families dressed in bright crimson, green, orange, and purple bakkhus were also heading towards the Gumba. Children were running around, yelling and laughing. A few of them waved at Dechhen and her family, and they waved back.

As they approached the steps that led to the Gumba, Dechhen saw Ajyang sitting on the stone steps, his dark red bakkhu already unkempt, falling off of his shoulders and tied around his waist. The gold blouse he wore underneath had specks of mud in them. He grinned ear to ear and waved at them.

'Ajyang!' exclaimed Dechhen, running towards her uncle.

'Careful! You will trip on your bakkhu!' Aama exclaimed as she ran.

'My my, Dechhenla, you look good when you don't have snot running down your nose all the time, don't you?' Ajyang said, grinning.

'I never have snot running down my nose!' Dechhen said indignantly. 'Aama said you would be at the Gumba!' she added.

'I said he probably is at the Gumba,' Aama corrected her. 'You have already gotten your bakkhu dirty, Tashi, Aama will not be happy,' she said to Ajyang.

Ajyang looked down at his blouse, and hastily tried to rub off the mud spots. 'She won't see it once I wear my bakkhu properly,' he said.

'Ajyang, carry me please!' Dechhen exclaimed, stretching her arms out to him. Her uncle quickly bent down so she could climb up his back. 'See you all at the Gumba!' he said as he started running up the steps.

'Hey, be careful! Don't run so fast!' yelled Papa, but Ajyang ran, and Dechhen clung onto her uncle as he swiftly scrambled up the very steep steps. She was very glad that Ajyang had come to meet them at the base of the steps. Dechhen hated having to walk up the steps to the Gumba just as much as she loved running down the steps. When she ran down as fast as she could, it only took her ten minutes to get to the village centre. But no matter how fast she was, it always took her at least forty minutes to get to the Gumba, and she was always tired and out of breath.

 Even Ajyang couldn’t keep running up the steps, especially with Dechhen on his back; within ten minutes he was out of breath. He stopped to put Dechhen down. clutching his sides and panting, he peered down the steps to see how far they had come. Dechhen looked back; she could barely see her parents, who were now small figures moving at a leisurely pace up the Kumche hill. Dechhen waved at them, but they didn’t seem to notice her.

'Come, let's go! We can't let your Aama and Papa catch up to us!' Ajyang said, beckoning at Dechhen. Dechhen stretched her arms as Ajyang scooped her up on his back again. As Ajyang walked up the steps, Dechhen looked at her parents getting smaller and further away again.

The closer they got to the Gumba, the more nervous Dechhen felt. Everybody would be watching, even Aamgaga. She did not want to mess up the dance. Left foot back, right foot follows, then left foot forward, she repeated to herself. Left foot back, right foot follows, then left foot forward.

'What are you whispering?' asked Ajyang, peering back to look at Dechhen.

'Nothing,' Dechhen said.

'Are you nervous about the dance?' Ajyang asked.

Dechhen nodded.

'You will be all right, Dechhenla. I trained you myself! You are ready, and I wouldn't say you are ready if you were not!' Ajyang said.

'Were you nervous during your first dance, Ajyang?' Dechhen asked.

'Of course!' Ajyang said, 'I was so nervous, I couldn't sleep the whole night before the festival! But once the dance began, all the nervousness left me.'

'How come?' asked Dechhen.

'Because I realized it wasn't just me! Everybody was dancing, Aama, Papa, your Aama, my Ajyang, all my friends, the whole village was dancing as well! It made me realize it was okay if I miss a step or two, because they would all make up for it.' Ajyang said.

'So even if I miss a step, the Druk will show up?' Dechhen asked.

'Of course! The Druk doesn't care if you know your steps perfectly, only that you dance with them!' Ajyang said.

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Dechhen felt much better. The sun had climbed up in the sky and the morning cold was all but gone. Dechhen and Ajyang reached the giant red and gold gates of the Gumba, perched atop Kumche hill. The gates guarded an even more imposing red and yellow building majestically overlooking the village of Lulongla. Ajyang put Dechhen down and the two children looked back to see if the adults were behind them; they were nowhere to be seen. The entire village spread at the foot of the hill, its white and brown houses and grey stone streets looking small and distant from where they stood.

The Gumba gates were wide open; tens of people were walking in and out, chattering amongst themselves. Dechhen and Ajyang walked through the giant gates and into a massive brick courtyard. The courtyard was bustling with people, some setting up food stalls, incense stalls and toy stalls around the courtyard, others greeting friends and acquaintances they hadn’t met in a while. Dechhen saw Aamgaga talking to a few people at the far-right corner of the Gumba; she was dressed in a crimson bakkhu with gold dragon embroidery that shone brilliantly in the sun. Ajyang hastily sorted his bakkhu, making sure to cover all the mud spots.

'Aamgaga!' Dechhen shouted, running towards her grandmother. Her grandmother turned around just in time to grab Dechhen as she jumped up into her arms.

'Dechhenla! Look at you, you look so pretty!' Aamgaga said, putting Dechhen down.

'Tashi Delek, Aamgaga!' Dechhen bowed to her grandmother, suddenly remembering her manners.

'Tashi Delek, Tashi Delek. This is your grand uncle Lakpa and your grand aunt Doma Tsering, greet them as well.' Aamgaga said, gesturing towards the man and woman she was talking to.

'Tashi Delek, Gaga,' Dechhen said demurely, bowing to them both.

'Tashi Delek! Is this Tsering Dolma's daughter?' Gaga Lakpa asked, peering at Dechhen. Dechhen smiled shyly.

'Yes, she is! And that is my son. Greet your uncle and aunt, Tashi,' Aamgaga said, pointing at Ajyang who was walking towards them.

'Tashi Delek!' Ajyang said, bowing to them.

'Where are your sister and brother-in-law?' asked Aamgaga.

'They are on their way, Aama,' replied Ajyang.

'Aamgaga, when does the dance begin?' Dechhen asked, tugging at her grandmother's bakkhu.

'Soon, Dechhenla,' Aamgaga said. 'But right now Aamgaga has a lot of work to do, so why don't you and your Ajyang go find other kids and play for a bit? Tashi, look after your niece, okay?'

'Okay!' Dechhen and Ajyang said in unison.

'Do you want to go check out the toy stall?' Ajyang asked Dechhen.

'Yes! Yes!' Dechhen said enthusiastically. Ajyang grabbed her hand, and both children ran towards the toy stall.

The stall was surrounded by children. Dechhen would have never made it through the crowd; but Ajyang was the biggest kid in the group. Holding Dechhen's hand tightly, he pushed through the crowd until they were right up to the counter.

Several colourful kites hung up behind the counter. Toy yaks, mountain goats, and wolves; cloth dolls dressed in red and black bakkhus were in another corner. But none of these caught Dechhen's attention; her eyes were locked on the wooden snow leopard in the stall keeper's hands.

'Do you want to see the snow leopard leap?' the stall keeper asked the children.

'Yes! Yes!' said the children breathlessly.

The stall keeper flipped the snow leopard upside down, wound up a key in its belly, then put it on the counter. The wooden toy came to life; it lifted its front paws, its tail twitched, then the toy somersaulted and landed back on its hind legs. With a clacking sound its front paws came down and it returned to its sitting position.

The children clapped and cheered.

'Three tangkas for this beautiful toy! Who wants it?' the stall keeper asked.

No child stepped forward.

'We don't have three tangkas, Chocho! Can you give us a better price?' said Ajyang.

'I can't do better than that, kid. It takes me several days to make one of these.' the stall keeper said.

'Do you have any money, Dechhen?' Ajyang asked.

Dechhen shook her head no. 'Aama does not let me keep money!' she said.

Ajyang sighed. He took Dechhen's hand and walked a little further away from the stall.

'Aama will never give me that much money,' he said, 'But she would give you that money if you ask her.'

'I don't want to ask Aamgaga; Aama would get mad at me.' Dechhen said.

'Don't tell your Aama you asked her for money. Who would tell her? I wouldn't. Your Aamgaga wouldn't either.' Ajyang said. Dechhen said nothing.

'Come on, don't you want that beautiful snow leopard? We would become the centre of everybody's envy!' Ajyang said, 'Look, we will wait till after the Druk dance is completed. Nobody is going to buy that toy; it is too expensive. When Aamgaga sees you participate in the Druk dance, she is going to be so proud she will give you anything you ask.'

Dechhen wasn't sure; but she nodded.

'Great!' Ajyang said, 'Now let's check out the other stalls.'

The smell of food permeated through the air. One stall offered red, green, and brown khapse biscuits shaped as flowers, stars, lamps, and butterflies; in another stall, yak and mountain goat momos were cooking in large bamboo steamers. Yet another stall displayed chhurpi cheese of all shapes and kinds - white as snow, soft and sweet; dark like wood, hard and creamy; yellow, crunchy and sour. Ajyang bought Dechhen several red and green khapse biscuits.

'There you are!' Dechhen heard Aama's voice call out. She and Ajyang turned to see Aama walking towards them, baby Phurba in her arms, who was now awake and sucking on his thumb. 'I have been looking for you two! The ceremony is starting soon, come on!' Aama beckoned at them both. Dechhen and Ajyang followed her.

Just as they reached the other side of the courtyard, several people including Papa emerged from the Gumba, some of them carrying three long redwood benches. All of them were dressed in identical red bakkhus with gold dragon embroidery. Others carried six large dungchen horns that they mounted against the benches. Six people positioned themselves behind the horns. The remaining went back in the Gumba and emerged with various other musical instruments; dhyangro drums, tingsha cymbals, and dramnyens.

One person nodded at the dungchen musicians, signalling them to begin. A deep, piercing wail reverberated through the Gumba and hung in the air as the musicians blew into the dungchen horns. As the sound of the horns rang through the Gumba courtyard, all the villagers stopped whatever they were doing and formed a large semi-circle around the courtyard. There was complete silence.

Papa and the other dramnyen musicians started playing their instrument. In contrast to the deep rumbling of the dungchen, the sweet, lilting music of the dramnyens floated gently through the air. A slow rhythmic thud from the dhyangro drums punctuated the music. A woman emerged from within the Gumba, dressed in a crimson and gold bakkhu, wearing a large, red and gold headdress. In her hands she carried a ceremonial silk scarf, gold with red and green markings etched onto it. Her footsteps coincided with the rhythmic thud of the dhyangro drums; it was as if the woman's footsteps thudded heavily on the ground, sending vibrations across the Gumba floor.

'Aamgaga!' Dechhen exclaimed, excitedly pointing at the woman.

'Shhh!' Aama shushed Dechhen, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to her.

Aamgaga walked to the centre of the courtyard with slow, measured steps that gradually got faster. The dhyangro followed the rhythm of her footsteps. As she reached the centre, she started running in a wide circle; the dhyangro followed her pace with an urgency, soon drowning the lilting dramnyen music. She ran around and around, faster and faster, until she dropped on the ground on her knees; the dramnyen and the dhyangro stopped; the sharp, piercing clangs of tingsha cymbals punctuated the air. Silence again.

The dramnyen and dhyangro musicians resumed playing. The music changed pace; rhythmic, fast, and purposeful. More people emerged from the Gumba, dressed in bakkhus of all colours: blue, green, purple, orange. They formed a circle around Aamgaga, who was still on the ground, her head bowed down and her body heaving in rhythm with the drums. They began dancing around her, moving in a circle that kept expanding. Dechhen's heart started beating faster. It was time.

The people dancing around Aamgaga moved further and further away from her, until they reached the crowd of villagers standing around the edges of the courtyard. One dancer danced right in front of Dechhen as her heart pounded.

'Ready?' Ajyang asked Dechhen, gently squeezing her hand. She had not realized until then that she was holding his hand tightly. Dechhen looked at the dancer, then looked up at Ajyang. She shook her head no.

The dancers started moving closer to the centre, tightening the circle in which they danced. As they moved inwards, the villagers moved in with them, joining the dance. Dechhen and Ajyang moved away, retreating further into the edges of the courtyard. The people standing around Dechhen nudged forward, towards the centre. Their feet followed the rhythm of the drums: one-two-three, one-two-three. Their arms swayed like tree branches in a gentle breeze.

More villagers joined in; as the first dancers reached close to the centre, where Aamgaga still lay heaving, they linked their arms and formed a closed circle. The villagers linked arms and formed more circles around the dancers, until Aamgaga was surrounded by several concentric circles. They danced around her, their arms linked, the music playing with the same purposeful rhythm.

Very few villagers remained around the edges; old people sat on chairs looking on, and parents of toddlers held on to their children. Dechhen felt afraid and ashamed. The outermost circle was only a few steps away from where she stood; it would have been very easy for her to quickly move in and join them. Nobody would have batted an eye. But she felt a heavy pit in her stomach that anchored her on the spot. She could not move; just as the voice within her urged her to step forward and join the villagers, her body stood resolute, unmoving.

'Look!' Ajyang pointed to the sky. Dechhen looked up. A magnificent red and gold creature was gliding towards the Gumba, their skin glinting in the bright sunlight. The Druk's long, sleek body moved like a ribbon rippling through the air. As it approached the Gumba, the music grew louder. Aamgaga got up on her feet, her head still bowed, raising the scarf above her head. The Druk flew over the Gumba, their huge body almost blocking out the sun entirely. Dechhen turned her head as high up as she could. Even though she had seen the Druk several times before, they still filled her with awe every time.

The Druk circled around the Gumba, mimicking the circles of villagers. Aamgaga began dancing at the same time. The dungchen horns wailed; the tingsha cymbals clanged. The villagers' danced even faster; their rapid steps raised a layer of dust from the ground. The Druk shook their great head, their silver moustache flowing. Then in a thud, they landed on the road outside the gate, too large to sit within the courtyard.

The music stopped. Aamgaga stopped dancing; so did the villagers. The Druk curled their body in a ball and laid their head low, peering through the Gumba gates with one piercing green eye. The villagers turned to look at the Druk, then at Aamgaga. Mimicking the Druk, she lay on the ground, resting her head against the floor and peering into the Druk's eye.

A single musician started beating their dhyangro; in the silence, it sounded louder than a hundred dungchen horns. Others followed suit; the dhyangro beat in a slow, measured rhythm, the tingsha cymbals clanged and rang through the still air in unison. The dramnyen musicians started playing as well. The villagers began dancing again.

'Come on, we have to join them!' Ajyang said.

Dechhen looked at Ajyang uncertainly.

'They need us, Dechhen, let's join them!' Ajyang repeated.

Dechhen nodded. She took a deep breath, then she and Ajyang squirrelled their way into the outermost circle. The villagers quickly made room for them, linking their arms with the two children's. Left foot back, Right foot follows, then left foot forward. Dechhen repeated to herself, trying to count her steps carefully. But as the music grew louder and faster, she lost count. Her body moved in rhythm with the other villagers and in rhythm with the music. Her uncle was right; she need not have worried about missing a step or two. In fact, she could not tell if she was dancing correctly or not. It did not matter; she was no longer one dancer among hundreds, but part of a single creature dancing.

The Druk raised their head and slowly unfurled their body; Aamgaga got up at the same time. The Druk rose in the air, swaying with the music, then began circling the Gumba yet again. Aamgaga swayed her body as well, her arms raised above her head, holding the ceremonial scarf. The Druk flew high above the Gumba, still circling the courtyard. Around and around they flew, climbing higher up in the air, each round a smaller circle than the last. Suddenly, they dove down the centre. Aamgaga jumped up in the air at the same time. She flung the ceremonial scarf as high as she could at the Druk, who caught the scarf in one of their horns; it wrapped itself around the horn as if through magic. The Druk flew back up, high above the Gumba, circling faster and faster.

As the Druk circled faster and faster, dark clouds began gathering in the sky. Within seconds the sky was overcast, except for the space above the Gumba, where a patch of clear blue still remained. The clouds thundered and rumbled as they thickened and spread over the village. It began to rain.

The villagers stopped dancing and began clapping and cheering.

'Thank you, Druk, for bringing rain to us!' Aamgaga shouted at the top of her voice, looking up.

The musicians stopped playing. Several of them went back into the Gumba. A few minutes later, they carried a massive phemmaar cake taller than Aamgaga and five times as wide, shaped like a mountain and decorated in white icing with the image of the Druk dancing atop clouds. Tottering under the weight of the cake, they gingerly placed it at the centre of the courtyard. The villagers all retreated to the edges; Dechhen and Ajyang followed suit.

'Please accept our gratitude, for you have saved our village yet again!' Aamgaga shouted, looking at the Druk.

The Druk dived down and landed next to the cake. Dechhen felt a powerful gust of wind push her back as the Druk landed. Nobody spoke as the Druk sniffed the cake, shook their great head, and took a bite, eating the top half of the cake in one gulp. They shook their head again, and with one mighty leap they flew high up through the patch of blue sky above the Gumba, over the dark clouds.

'Looks like the Druk didn't like the phemmaar this year,' Ajyang said.