The whole nation is waiting. And rightly so.
On November 1, 2026, Bhutan will witness a moment that will be etched in its history. In a single day, 108 Jangchub Chortens will rise at Gelephu Mindfulness City (GMC), transforming the vision of His Majesty the King into a sacred offering of faith, devotion and collective endeavour. More than 100,000 people are expected to gather. Prayers will rise, lamps will glow, and the spiritual light of Bhutan will reach far beyond its borders.
And yet, I will not be there.
My health will not permit me to make the journey. My pain will keep me away from the place where my heart longs to be. I may watch the historic moment on television or through my phone—two companions that have become my windows to the world—but I know that watching is not the same as standing among the people, hearing the prayers, feeling the energy and witnessing the chortens rise with my own eyes.
But what can I do? The body has its limits, and life does not always grant us the moments we yearn for.
I must accept what I cannot change. But, even If I cannot be there in person, I will be there in prayer. If I cannot offer my hands, I will offer my gratitude. If I cannot stand among my fellow Bhutanese, my heart will stand with them.
Above all, I will pray for my King. I will thank him. And I will tell him, in the quiet language of a grateful subject, how proud I am of the vision he has given our nation and how deeply thankful I am to live in the time of his reign.
Over the years, I have watched His Majesty’s visions take shape in the lives of our people. I have seen initiatives that once seemed like distant dreams become living realities. I have watched the Royal Highland Festival bring renewed attention and dignity to the highlands, their people and their extraordinary way of life. I have watched His Majesty visit the highlands, bless the people and affirm the importance of preserving what makes Bhutan unique.
I was there in spirit during the Dasain celebrations. I followed the launch of the Yoeja digital platform at Simtokha. Earlier this week, I watched His Majesty receive the FIFA President in Bhutan.
Now comes November 1—a day that brings together faith, vision and the collective will of a nation.
I may not be able to contribute as others will. I may not be able to travel, volunteer or stand beside my fellow citizens as the historic day unfolds. But physical absence does not mean a heart is absent. There are ways of belonging that distance cannot diminish. There are offerings that do not require us to be seen.
And so, from wherever I am, I will join the prayers. I will watch the chortens rise, and I will feel the pride of being Bhutanese. I will think, too, of my King as I think now, as I ask these questions.
Would the highlands be celebrated in quite the same way without my King’s vision? Would the Yak and the lives of highland communities receive the same national attention? Would the Dassain be carried forward with the same renewed purpose? Could anyone have imagined November 1, 2026, this extraordinary gathering and the rising of 108 sacred chortens at a time, in a day?
These questions come from a heart filled with gratitude. They are not a claim that a nation’s story belongs to one person alone, but an acknowledgement of what leadership can inspire, and why it matters.
I will miss the gathering. That sorrow will remain with me. But it will not eclipse my gratitude.
My body may be held back by pain, but my heart remains with my King and my country. I will pray, I will give thanks, and I will share in the pride of a nation united by a sacred purpose.
On November 1, 108 Jangchub Chortens will rise at Gelephu. I may not be there to witness them with my own eyes. But I know where I will be in spirit.
With my King and his people. And with a prayer for Bhutan and the world.
(Karma Samdrup, Thimphu. On behalf of many who will not be able to be with their King physically)
