𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥

…𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆

By Lhendup Wangmo

Passang Tshering’s hands move with careful precision as he dips a fine brush into vibrant ochre paint. Morning light filters softly through the small window of his modest workshop in Wangdue Phodrang. The air carries the scent of pinewood and earthy pigments, settling around half-finished Bhutanese motifs on canvases and wooden panels. Dragons curl around pillars, lotus flowers unfold their petals, and sacred symbols appear under his steady touch.
This rhythm is the work of a man who, not long ago, knew only chaos.

At 37, Passang’s life is a testament to transformation. His journey began in a fractured childhood marked by abandonment, progressed into drug addiction, and led him behind prison walls before art offered a path forward. Today, he is clean, focused, and inspired. He dreams of a Bhutan where traditional painting can revive both cultural pride and the lives of those struggling like he once did.

He looks up from his work. “I never imagined I would be here,” he says, eyes shining. “For years, my life was a blur of pain and escape. But painting gave me something real to hold onto. Something pure.”

Passang’s story begins in 2003, when he was in Class 3. That year, his parents divorced. “I remember coming home one day, and my father was gone. No goodbye, no explanation. Just silence,” he recalls. His mother remarried quickly, and the tension in the household grew. “My mother and stepfather used to fight in front of me sometimes over whether they could afford my school shoes. No one ever asked me how I felt. I felt invisible.”

He found small escapes. Sometimes it was sketching doodles in his notebooks. Sometimes it was climbing trees behind the schoolyard and watching clouds drift across the sky. But these moments could not protect him from the challenges ahead.

At age 12, his older brother introduced him to drugs. It started with sniffing correction fluid and progressed to pills. “I remember the first time I tried it. It was like someone turned down the noise in my head. I didn’t feel small or scared. I just felt nothing.”

By Class 6, Passang had dropped out of school. His mother enrolled him in the police service, hoping to redirect his path. At 17, he joined the Royal Bhutan Police.

For a while, the structure helped. “The discipline gave me something to hold onto. But I never dealt with the pain inside me,” he says. “Even when I was on duty, I was using. Addiction is like a shadow. You can run from it, but it never stops chasing you.”

He rose to the rank of Lance Corporal, but addiction caught up with him. When discovered, he was dismissed without pay. “It was like losing the last piece of dignity I had. I felt worthless.”

Life after dismissal was difficult. He worked as a river rafting guide on the Punatsangchhu, guiding tourists while managing withdrawals. “I remember one day, a guest tipped me a small note. I was supposed to use it for dinner. Instead, I went straight to buy SP Plus.”

Desperation grew. He stole from his mother, sold household items including the gas stove and altar lamp. “My mother stopped trusting me. My wife left. Even my neighbors crossed the street to avoid me.” He often slept in abandoned houses or roadside shelters. “I wasn’t afraid of dying. I was afraid of living like that forever.”

In 2019, he was arrested in Bajo with 72 capsules of Spasmo Proxyvon Plus, one of Bhutan’s most misused drugs. Sentenced to five years and three months, he spent time in a prison cell that mirrored the confinement of his mind.
“The first few months were brutal,” he says. “My body screamed. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think. The withdrawals were like demons clawing at me from the inside.”

During incarceration, something changed. After three years in the main prison, he was transferred to an open-air facility in Samdrup Jongkhar. There, a Royal Bhutan Police initiative offered skill-based programs, including Bhutanese traditional painting.

“At first, I only joined to pass the time,” Passang says. “But then, something happened. The patterns, the colors, they gave me peace. Each stroke quieted the noise inside me.”
With guidance from master painters, he learned the sweeping curves of dragons, the symmetry of mandalas, and the disciplined order of clouds, flames, and lotus petals. “There were days I messed up badly, spilled paint, lost focus. But even then, I kept going. It was the first thing I didn’t give up on.”

When released, Passang returned to Wangdue with nothing but a bag of clothes, a few brushes, and hope. During his vulnerable phase, temptation remained. An old school friend, Namgay Dorji, now a city bus driver, supported him. “Namgay didn’t come with speeches or judgment,” Passang says. “He just called me every morning and said, ‘Let’s have tea.’ Some days we drove in silence. Other days, we laughed about traffic or shared memories from school.”
One rainy evening, Passang confessed he nearly relapsed. Namgay did not lecture him. He simply handed him a packet of momo and said, “Start again tomorrow. You’re still Passang to me.” “That friendship,” Passang says quietly, “was my anchor. Without it, I don’t think I’d be here.”

Six years clean, Passang now works from a small studio overlooking the hills. His art decorates temples, schools, and homes. Some pieces are commissioned; others he donates to community centers. He teaches painting to at-risk youth on weekends, especially those struggling with poverty or family issues. “If someone had taught me this skill back then, maybe I wouldn’t have gone down that road,” he says. “That’s what I want to give them, not just a brush, but a purpose.”

Despite Passang’s recovery, drug addiction remains a challenge in Bhutan. Spasmo Proxyvon is accessible, youth as young as 13 are using, rehabilitation centers are under-resourced, and stigma remains high. “People think addicts are criminals,” Passang says. “But most of us are just broken kids who never learned how to ask for help.” He hopes his story can bridge the gap between shame and healing, between punishment and possibility.

As the sun climbs higher, Passang steps back from his latest painting. A dragon arcs across the wall, its body coiled with strength and grace, reflecting the journey that brought him here. His hands, once trembling in desperation, now bring life to an ancient art that connects Bhutan’s past with its future. In every brushstroke, there is healing, redemption, and hope, not just for Passang Tshering, but for every soul still fighting their way out of darkness.
If you or someone you know is struggling with substance abuse in Bhutan, contact your local health center or rehabilitation facility for support. Recovery is possible, and help is available.