In the serene villages of Choekhorling gewog, Pemagatshel, a treasured cultural legacy hangs in the balance as the ancient Chondi-ru song teeters on the brink of disappearance. This lyrical dance, steeped in centuries-old tradition, is now safeguarded by merely eight elderly women who are its last custodians.
The Chondi-ru song, believed to have been composed during the reign of Bhutan’s First King, Gongsar Ugyen Wangchuck, is more than just a performance. It is a celebration of women’s traditional ornaments—kongra (earrings), tingkhab (koma), and kucheng (belt)—and has long been a symbol of Choekhorling’s rich cultural heritage.
“The song was composed by an armo (maid) who praised the Queen’s ornaments,” recalls Abi Changlo, the last surviving singer from the older generation. “Though it began as a light-hearted tune, it became the heartbeat of our community.”
For generations, Chondi-ru has been integral to the identity of Choekhorling, with its intricate dance movements and poetic lyrics paying homage to traditional adornments. However, as younger generations migrate and the elderly population diminishes, the song faces imminent extinction.
In response to this cultural crisis, a diverse group of women—including dropout students, mothers, and elders—have united to revive the fading tradition. Guided by the wisdom of the Abis, the oldest generation, they have diligently learned the dance steps and lyrics to keep Chondi-ru alive.
“We realized no one else would save our traditions if we did not act,” says 23-year-old Namgay Zangmo, one of the youngest members of the revival group. Supported by both elders and the gewog administration, Namgay and her peers have reintegrated Chondi-ru performances into local celebrations and events, ensuring that the song remains a living part of their community.
“Our school once had a vibrant group of Chondi-ru dancers, but they have all moved on,” Namgay explains. Today, she performs alongside older women, meticulously recreating the song’s intricate footwork and synchronized movements. “Some steps, like the rhythmic tapping and hand gestures, were particularly challenging,” she admits, highlighting the dedication required to preserve this art form.
The urgency of their mission is palpable. “Many elderly dancers are now too old to perform,” states 42-year-old Karma Zangmo. “We had to step forward to learn the song from icons like Abi Tempa Choden, the granddaughter of Abi Chonduri, and others, who are themselves the last in their lineage of performers.”
To ensure the survival of Chondi-ru, efforts have been made to document its lyrics, providing a crucial lifeline for future generations. “The tradition has been passed down orally for generations, but it is now endangered because young people are less interested in preserving it,” notes former Mangmi Jigme Nidup.
Acknowledging this threat, the community has officially recognized Chondi-ru as a performing art within the gewog, actively promoting its lyrics among the youth to foster a sense of ownership and continuity.
“We would like to continue this tradition as long as we are alive,” Karma Zangmo affirms. “The song is very close to the heart of the Kulkata (the old name of Choekhorling gewog).”
The Chondi-ru song is not only a cultural emblem but also a testament to the resilience of Choekhorling’s heritage. Originating in Bumthang or Trongsa, the song once resonated across various communities, carried by attendants, traders, and even tax collectors. Today, its survival hinges on the unwavering commitment of a new generation determined to keep their ancestral melodies alive.
As Choekhorling gewog stands at a cultural crossroads, the story of Chondi-ru serves as a poignant reminder of the fragile nature of intangible heritage and the collective effort required to preserve it for generations to come.
