In the shadow of Jomolhari, two powerful spirits held dominion over the valleys below. Ap Chundu watched over Haa. Jowo Drakey guarded Paro. Both loved their lands deeply and desired only abundance for their people.
From Jomolhari’s glaciers flowed waters precious beyond measure. Life itself. Fertile fields. Rice paddies stretching golden in the sun. Both spirits understood what these waters meant, and both wanted them for their own. A contest began, not of violence, but of will. Ap Chundu sought to draw the waters toward Haa. Jowo Drakey envisioned them flowing into Paro’s plains. Each believed their people deserved this blessing.
But Jowo Drakey possessed a different kind of power. He understood desire. He knew that Ap Chundu held great fondness for drink. So he offered generously, cup after cup, until boundaries grew soft and awareness blurred. In that moment, Jowo Drakey turned the waters. Gently, deliberately, he guided them toward Paro’s plains. By the time Ap Chundu’s mind returned, the waters had chosen their path. The streams now flowed into Paro Valley, nourishing fields that would flourish for generations.
And so it remains. Paro’s paddies stretch abundant and green, rich with rice cultivation that feeds the valley. Haa’s fields, though still cared for with devotion, remain comparatively less abundant in rice. The landscape itself tells this story. The differing agricultural valleys speak of two spirits who loved fiercely enough to contest even the mountains. Of what was, and what became. Of waters claimed not by chance, but by will.
