It was a beautiful Sunday morning and I was excited from the moment I woke up. I was getting a bakkhu made for the very first time. The bakkhu is the traditional Tibetan or Sherpa dress. It is a long robe worn with different accessories like the whonju — a type of long shirt worn inside the bakkhu, and the pang den — an apron worn by married women.

My mother had wanted me to get a bakkhu years ago. I belong to a Sherpa family and it is considered a good thing when a young Sherpeni wants to have a bakkhu, meaning she

reflects her culture even in days when mini-skirts is the fashion.

The best place to get a bakkhu is the alleys of Bouddhanath.

We reached Bouddha at about 1:00 pm. The streets were filled with monks chanting their prayers, young children playing, old Tibetans lighting butter lamps, and shops full of people. I could see preparations going on for Lhosar, our new year. Prayer flags were everywhere. Khapses or Tibetan bread were being made in tiny restaurants. Lhosar happiness was evident in everyone’s faces.

As we walked I kept looking for a good bakkhu shop, and we found the one I was looking for after visiting a dozen shops. It was right next to a beautiful mona-stery in a small alley. An old Tibetan man was arranging the materials, while his wife was measuring another customer for a bakkhu.

As soon as I entered the shop, I greeted the old couple saying, “Tashi-delek”, which means “hello”, “goodbye”, but most of all, “God bless you with luck”.

They asked me what colour bakkhu I was looking for. I wanted one in turquoise blue with golden and silver brocade. They asked me the material I wanted it in. As it was first time I was buying a bakkhu for Lhosar, I told them I didn’t actually know anything.

Then a kind customer, who was a monk, helped me out. The material was perfect. Now all that I had to do was get the right-coloured whonju to go with my bakkhu.

Horns and drums mingled with rock music outside. A reincarnate lama and his

followers passed the shop, leaving behind a trail of incense. This scene helped me find the perfect cream coloured whonju.

While looking for a good bakkhu tailor, I saw a monk teaching children and people giving money to the poor. As the tailor was taking my measurements, I gazed up at Boudhanath and recalled the beautiful stories that my grandfather used to tell me. I could almost see the stupa being made with dew drops as one story went, and I was sure I heard the goose girl who is said to have built the stupa according to another legend.

And as I was leaving, the tailor asked my name. I replied with pride, “Duksangh Dolma Sherpa.”

He said, “Tashi-delek,” and the Buddha’s all-seeing eyes painted on the stupa seemed to bless me too.