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The bulging red phallic painting that covered the entire wall caught me off guard as I walked into the restaurant. “Hungry?”, T., my local guide, asked. We were in Punakha, a town peppered with more phallic paintings and ornaments than any other parts of Bhutan. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” T. assured. “The women here are not shy about the penis. It is a blessing and it wards off evil.” As we munched on the crispy, golden phallically shaped finger food, T. urged us to think of our desires. This would make our pilgrimage to the Temple of Fertility or Chimi Lhakhang more meaningful, he assured. Here we were; at the brink of adulthood, joining the thousands who made their way here in hopes of having a child. We were only here because of the tour though. The wind blew the oily crumbs of the savoury snack on the corners of my mouth away. An old Himalayan lady was selling phallic necklaces. With a toothless grin, she presented a wide melange of phalluses to me. It was a buffet; she was serving different shapes, sizes and even colours. “Are you gonna get a big one?” C. my colleague on this trip probed as she wiggled her eyebrows. I shushed C. and bought a variety of necklaces as souvenirs for friends back home. I was certain they would appreciate this accessory in a conservative society. I wore the bright red one that resembled the one at the restaurant around my neck. With that, we were ready to visit the Temple of Fertility. Chimi Lhakhang was erected in the 15th century. The guru, Drukpa Kunley, is also known affectionately as The Divine Madman. His teachings offered duality: enlightenment and a pleasurable sex life could go hand-in-hand. He hedonistically practiced what he preached. T. explained the legend of his powerful penis defeating demons as we breathlessly ascended to the temple. The monastery resides on top of the hillock, like a perfectly-shaped nipple of a woman’s breast. It was hard to grasp, if there ever was, the bizarre relationship of one of the happiest countries on earth and the unorthodox sexually-charged teachings of The Divine Madman. We removed our shoes and approached a monk clad in a dark red robe inside the temple. With his gleaming 15-inch penis sword, he began the prayers. We bowed our heads to receive the blessing of the “magic thunderbolt of wisdom” from the monk. I finally let my walls down and the phallic necklace around my neck felt heavier, like it meant something to me now. I was in an ivory tower my whole life in Singapore. Up here in this cloistered kingdom of clouds, I had a bird’s eye view of a world I never knew. Like the souvenirs, I took home something out of my comfort zone. The blessings felt comforting.