Cradled in the quiet heart of Tang Valley, Bumthang, lies a site of extraordinary spiritual legacy—Mebar Tsho, the Burning Lake. Far more than a tranquil pool along the Tang River, this revered place is etched into the soul of Bhutanese Buddhism. It marks the sacred beginning of Terton Pema Lingpa’s (เฝเฝེเฝข་เฝฆྟོเฝ་เฝเฝྨ་เฝླིเฝ་เฝ 1450-1521) divine mission as a treasure revealer, and continues to inspire devotion, wonder, and pilgrimage to this day.
๐ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ๐๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ ๐๐๐น๐ณ๐ถ๐น๐น๐ฒd
Visiting Mebar Tsho had long been a personal aspiration. When the opportunity finally came, I arrived to find the footpath temporarily closed for maintenance. Yet something deeper than circumstance called me onward—a quiet pull of devotion. Mindful not to disrupt the work underway, I made my way carefully to the site. There, surrounded by the gentle flow of the Tang River and the fluttering of prayer flags, I felt both humbled and uplifted.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐น๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ ๐๐ฒ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฎ๐๐ต ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ช๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐
The sanctity of Mebar Tsho begins with an extraordinary tale. As a young blacksmith, Pema Lingpa received a divine vision instructing him to visit the Naringdra cliff on a full moon night with five companions. At the appointed time, he entered a deep meditative state and leapt into the lake’s depths.
What transpired beneath the surface would forever alter Bhutan’s spiritual landscape. Pema Lingpa encountered Yum Ekajati, the one-eyed wrathful protector goddess, who entrusted him with a sacred terma—a spiritual treasure—inscribed in the secret language of the Dakinis, known as Khandro Dayik. In that moment, the ordinary artisan was transformed into a tertรถn—destined to uncover hidden teachings for the benefit of all beings.
Yet his miracles invited doubt. The valley’s governor accused him of deception and demanded proof. In response, on the 15th day of the first autumn month in the Fire Monkey year (1476) Pema Lingpa stood before the lake and boldly proclaimed:
“๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ข ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐ฉ๐ง๐ช๐ ๐๐๐๐ง๐ฉ-๐จ๐ค๐ฃ ๐ค๐ ๐๐ช๐ง๐ช ๐๐๐ฃ๐ฅ๐ค๐๐๐, ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ก๐ก ๐ง๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ง๐ฃ ๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐ ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐ข๐ ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ ๐๐ช๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐ง ๐ก๐๐ข๐ฅ ๐จ๐ฉ๐๐ก๐ก ๐๐ช๐ง๐ฃ๐๐ฃ๐. ๐๐ ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฉ, ๐ข๐๐ฎ ๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐จ๐ ๐๐ฃ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฉ๐๐จ.”
To the astonishment of the gathered crowd, he emerged moments later—treasure in hand, and the butter lamp still lit. This miraculous event consecrated the lake’s name: Mebar Tsho, “The Burning Lake.”
๐ฃ๐ถ๐น๐ด๐ฟ๐ถ๐บ๐ฎ๐ด๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฃ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ
Unlike traditional lakes, Mebar Tsho is a deep, still basin carved by the river’s path through a narrow gorge. Its surrounding cliffs are adorned with layers of prayer flags that seem to breathe with the wind, whispering invocations skyward. The place exudes a sense of spiritual presence—palpable, mysterious, and profound.
During my visit, I paused to offer prayers and quietly observed the waters. As someone who invokes Yum Ekajati in daily practice, I felt deeply held by her protective embrace. Shapes emerged in the ripples—shells, thunderbolts, lotus patterns—like signs from the depths reminding me of hidden blessings.
Terton Pema Lingpa once described a submerged palace beneath the lake—a hidden monastery visible only to those with pure perception. The belief endures that beneath these waters lie sacred treasures guarded by Yum Ekajati, accessible only through the power of unwavering faith.
Further along the path, near a newly restored wooden bridge, I discovered three sacred rock carvings believed to have been etched by Terton Pema Lingpa himself: Buddha Shakyamuni, Guru Rinpoche, and the Terton. A kind caretaker offered Trulchu—blessed water—and pointed to the very spot where the terma had once been revealed.
๐ ๐๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ง๐ฒ๐๐๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ๐ป๐
Mebar Tsho is more than a landmark; it is a living embodiment of Bhutan’s sacred heritage. Here, faith is not only remembered—it is experienced. It is a place where the miraculous merges with the mundane, where rivers speak in symbols, and where fire once burned in the water.
To all devotees and spiritual travelers, I offer this humble encouragement: visit Mebar Tsho with a heart full of reverence. Walk gently, pray deeply, and you may find—not just a sacred lake—but a piece of yourself waiting to be revealed.
