Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom 2022

As Ugyen (Sherab Dorji) stood at the threshold of his five-year tenure as a teacher, he was torn between the monotony of his duties and the siren song of stardom. His government-mandated assignment to the remote mountain village of Lunana, nestled 4800 meters above sea level and boasting a population of mere 56, seemed an insurmountable obstacle to his dreams of becoming a singer in Australia. Yet, his grandmother’s (Tsheri Zom) wise counsel echoed in his mind, urging him to fulfill his obligations before pursuing his true passion.

In the city, Ugyen’s best friend Tandin (Sonam Tashi) vowed to monitor his visa application, as if sensing the gravity of his decision. The prospect of trekking for eight days to reach Thimphu, let alone the unforgiving terrain that lay ahead, loomed large in his mind. The journey began with a meeting at Gasa (population 448, altitude 2800 meters), where Ugyen encountered Michen (Ugyen Norbu Lhendup), a seasoned village guide, and Singye (Tshering Dorji), his trusty assistant.

As they navigated the perilous path to Lunana, Ugyen’s fatigue was palpable. Michen, ever the gentle mentor, coaxed him forward with words of encouragement, ultimately gifting him a sturdy walking stick to aid in their arduous ascent. At Koina, a tiny settlement with a population of three and an altitude of 3100 meters, Ugyen’s waterproof shoes betrayed him, leaving his feet a map of blisters and sores. Michen’s homemade remedies proved a balm to his weary soul.

The duo pressed on, their progress hampered by the battery drain on Ugyen’s phone. As they approached the mountain pass, a sacred ritual awaited them: the ancient custom of placing stones atop a pile to pay homage to the majestic peak. But Ugyen refused to participate, instead opting for a more introspective approach. Michen, meanwhile, wove a narrative about the snow line’s receding presence and its devastating impact on the population of snow lions in the region.

As Ugyen’s arrival in the village sparks widespread excitement, the entire population embarks on a two-hour journey to welcome him with open arms. However, upon surveying the bleak conditions of his new surroundings - starkly illuminated by the harsh light of day, devoid of even the most basic amenities like electricity and running water, let alone a functional toilet - Ugyen’s enthusiasm is tempered by regret. He implores Michen to take him back, only to be met with the practicality that the mules need time to rest, and he can return in a few days’ time.

The next morning, Ugyen is roused from his slumber by Pem Zam, the class captain, who informs him that the children are eagerly awaiting his arrival at the classroom. As the appointed hour of 8:30 am approaches, Ugyen’s alarm-less phone battery having succumbed to exhaustion, he finds himself woefully unprepared for the day ahead. Yet, as he beholds the beaming faces of his young students, their eyes aglow with an almost childlike reverence for their teacher, something within him stirs. He decides to stay on and teach for the remainder of the year, despite the numerous challenges that lie ahead.

Pem Zam takes Ugyen under her wing, enlightening him about the subjects previously taught by his predecessor and pointing out the dusty tomes stored in the trunk in his room. As Michen shows Ugyen around the village, introducing him to a cast of characters including his wife, Pem Zam’s drunk father, and others, it becomes clear that this is a community bound together by strong ties of friendship and shared struggle.

A gentle breeze carries the whispers of a kindly grandma from a nearby village, who brings her granddaughter to Ugyen’s doorstep. With no school in their own village, she hopes that Ugyen’s tutelage will provide her young charge with an education that might otherwise be out of reach.

The next day, Ugyen returns to his classroom, better equipped and more prepared than before. In the absence of a blackboard, he resorts to writing directly on the wall with charcoal, improvising in the face of adversity. Michen later constructs a makeshift blackboard for him, a testament to the resourcefulness of this tight-knit community.

As the days turn into weeks, Ugyen’s classroom begins to take shape, with the teacher sacrificing the paper covering his windows when his students run out of writing materials. It is a small act of sacrifice, but one that speaks volumes about his growing commitment to these children and their education.

Meanwhile, Tandin’s response to Ugyen’s plea for supplies arrives in the form of a package via Ghasa, which Michen kindly collects on his behalf. The package contains everything from copies to chart paper, as well as Ugyen’s beloved guitar - a symbol of his connection to the outside world and his own creative expression.

As if these developments were not enough, Ugyen also receives news that his visa application to Australia has been approved, casting a pall of uncertainty over his future in the village. He quickly becomes a favorite among the children, regaling them with songs on his guitar and imparting his knowledge of math, English, and Dzongkha.

As winter draws near, Ugyen’s students are faced with the heartbreaking reality that their beloved teacher plans to leave when the seasons change, never to return. It is a bittersweet moment, one that will linger in their hearts long after he has departed.

As Ugyen’s bond with the villagers deepens, he forms an unlikely connection with Saldon (Kelden Lhamo Gurung), a young woman who sings traditional songs atop hillside vistas, her melodies carrying the weight of community and tradition. Her daily offerings to the village are met with curiosity by Ugyen, who asks her to teach him the haunting tunes. And so, they meet daily, Saldon guiding his nascent vocal cords as he learns to harmonize with the wind and the hills. The song, Yak Lebi Lhadar, is a lament penned by a local yak herder, whose words still echo through the mountains: a poignant reminder of sacrifice and community.

As their bond grows stronger, Saldon gifts Ugyen with a majestic yak named Norbu, whose manure will provide warmth for the classroom fire. This selfless act not only underscores her kind heart but also serves as a symbol of her own connection to the land and its creatures. As the cold winter months approach, Ugyen is forced to keep Norbu indoors, where the gentle giant becomes an integral part of the children’s lessons.

The warmth of the classroom is soon tempered by the weight of revelation: Ugyen discovers he has two daughters, Biddha and Saldon, whose mother had been like a sister to Asha (Kunzang Wangdi), the village leader. The weight of his past loss settles upon him once more, as he grapples with the prospect of leaving Bhutan behind. Asha approaches Ugyen with a mix of trepidation and resignation, sensing that the winter’s snow will soon render the pass impassable. He implores Ugyen to return in the spring, but the latter has made up his mind: he intends to leave Bhutan for good.

The news is met with sorrow by Saldon, who had grown to regard Ugyen as a surrogate father figure. She reassures him that only the children can truly judge whether or not they will miss him, and their collective affection for Ugyen is palpable. As he prepares to depart, Pem Zam presents him with a letter from the children, while Saldon gifts him with a symbol of her appreciation: a warm, hand-woven scarf.

As Ugyen departs Lunana, Asha’s voice carries on the wind, singing Yak Lebi Lhadar in a poignant farewell. It is then that Michen (character name) reveals to Ugyen that Asha was the song’s original composer, his music silenced by grief after the passing of his wife. He vowed to sing again only when his beloved yak returned home and brought joy with it. This serves as a powerful metaphor for the happiness Ugyen had brought to the village during his time there: a testament to the transformative power of love, music, and community.

As Ugyen (actor name) descends the mountain, a poignant reminder of his journey’s purpose arrives in the form of letters from his young students, extolling his virtues as their favorite teacher. Their heartfelt gratitude and encouragement to return in the spring imbue him with a sense of responsibility, prompting him to pause at a sacred shrine en route. With a nod to the divine, Ugyen leaves an offering for safe passage, voicing his hope to retrace his steps come spring.

Disillusionment sets in when Ugyen’s artistic endeavors fall flat in Australia’s bustling bars. The silence that greets his performances is a far cry from the enthusiasm he once experienced among his Himalayan audience. However, as he puts aside his original compositions and instead takes up Yak Lebi Lhadar, the crowd is transfixed by the haunting melody, their attention a testament to the transcendent power of music to bridge cultural divides.