BeyulDemojong Series

KARMA CHODA BHUTIA

Is the Beyul Still Breathing?

 Sikkim was named one of the most sacred Beyuls. For centuries it was a mystery on maps, a promise whispered by lamas and seekers. It was discovered, but never meant to be conquered. A Beyul was meant to be protected, not used up.

So, the question we have to sit with now is not where it was.

It’s whether it is still here.Or if it is on the verge of going quiet.

What the future holds for Beyul?

1. Greed

The future of Beyul will be decided by concrete and contracts.

Massive developmental projects are cutting into slopes that took centuries to hold themselves together. Roads that collapse in the first monsoon. Dams that silence rivers. Hotels that rise where forests used to pray.This is not development with balance. This is extraction.A hunger that doesn’t ask the mountain if it can bear it.

If this continues, the fragile ecosystem that made Sikkim sacred will not bend. It will break.Landslides will not be accidents. They will be answers.Rivers will not sing. They will flood, forget their old paths, and carry away villages with them.The forests that held the prayers of Beyul will thin until the wind sounds hollow.The air that once smelled of pine and incense will smell of dust and diesel.

Greed doesn’t kill a Beyul in one day. It erases it slowly, until one morning the mist doesn’t come down the way it used to, and no one notices.

2. Corruption

The future will also be decided in small rooms.Not just in government offices with sealed files, but in the village, in the field, in the monastery courtyard, at the bazaar.When a labourer is paid less than promised.When a contractor uses bad cement and calls it “standard.”When seeds and subsidies are sold instead of given.

When a ritual is performed for money and not faith.When a teacher comes late, a doctor looks away, and a file moves only after a “chai-paani.”

Corruption is no longer an exception. It is becoming the way we do daily work.And it spreads like damp in the walls.

A Beyul cannot survive when every transaction is a little betrayal.

If this continues, the next generation will inherit a land where nothing is trusted. Not the contract, not the leader, not the priest, not the soil.A hidden land cannot hide when its own people have stopped believing in it.

3. Lies

The future holds a generation that may not know the difference between story and sales pitch.

We are lying to our parents about where the money went.To our children about why the river is dirty and the fish are gone.To our Gods in prayers we don’t mean while we do the opposite the next hour.To tourists with brochures that show a Sikkim that no longer exists.To ourselves, calling destruction “progress” and calling silence “peace.”

When lies become normal, memory becomes fragile.

And a Beyul lives in memory. In the names of lakes, in the warnings of elders, in the rule of “don’t cut that tree, the deity lives there.”

If we keep lying, we will forget why Sikkim was sacred in the first place.And a land that is forgotten cannot be hidden. It can only be sold.

4. Jealousy

The future will be divided if we let jealousy lead.

Community vs community. Valley vs valley. “My quota” vs “your quota.”Old accusations dug up for new elections.Social media turning every small grievance into a war.Every group fighting only for itself, and in the fight, forgetting the word “Sikkimese”.We are building walls inside a state that was once known for living together on narrow roads and shared faith.

A Beyul was never meant to be owned by one. It was meant to be shared by all who knew how to live gently with it.If jealousy wins, the state will not break from outside. It will break from inside, into smaller and smaller pieces, until no one has enough left to call it home.

5. Anger and Apathy

Two more emotions are walking beside us now.

Anger — quick, loud, on the streets and in comments. Anger at the system, at “them,” at anyone who disagrees. Anger that burns hot but builds nothing.And right next to it, apathy. The shrug. “Nothing will change anyway.”Young people leaving because they don’t see a future here.Elders stopping to speak because “who will listen.”

Volunteers getting tired because the work is thankless.

When anger and apathy live together, a place goes numb.No one protects what they are angry about, and no one fights for what they’ve given up on.That numbness is the quietest way a Beyul dies.

6. Shame

There is also shame.

Shame when we see garbage on the trail we once called sacred.

Shame when we have to explain to a guest why the water is brown.

Shame when we know a project is wrong but we stay silent for a job.

Shame doesn’t protect a land. It makes us look away.And when we look away long enough, the damage becomes normal.

So, is Beyul surviving or on the verge of extinction?

If greed keeps building, if corruption keeps leaking, if lies keep spreading, if jealousy keeps dividing, if anger burns and apathy freezes and shame makes us look away — then Beyul is not dying with thunder.It is dying with silence.

The birds will leave first. Then the springs. Then the young people.

The festivals will continue, but the meaning will thin.What’s left will still be called Sikkim on a map. But it won’t be a Beyul.It will be just land. Tired land.

The future of Beyul is not written in prophecy anymore.It is written in what we choose tomorrow:What we build, what we accept, what we tolerate, what we say to our children at night, and whether we remember we are Sikkimese before we remember our caste, party, or village.A hidden land survives only as long as the people hiding it are worthy of it.If we are not, the hiding place will close on its own.

.