Long ago, in the time when the earth still held its ancient magic, there lived a powerful Gole Bompo (Shaman) in a village snuggled beneath the towering Himalayas. The shaman and his wife were renowned for their deep knowledge of the spiritual world and their ability to communicate with the unseen spirits of the region. One day, they traveled to the shores of a Lake, a mysterious body of water that few dared approach.
As they stood by the lake, the shaman looked out over the water, and his sharp eyes caught sight of something strange—a rainbow arched across the surface, glimmering in the sunlight. But there was something more. Two giant snakes, their scales glistening like jewels, coiled together beneath the water, guarding a vast treasure of sparkling jewels.
“Look, wife,” said the shaman, his voice filled with amazement. “These snakes are the keepers of great wealth. But their treasure has been revealed to me. I will go down and conquer them.”
His wife looked at him, concern flickering in her eyes. “But the lake is deep, and those snakes are powerful. What if something goes wrong?”
“Do not fear,” he reassured her. “I am a Gole Bompo, and my powers are greater than anything these creatures possess. I will take their jewels and bring them to the surface. I will carry them on my shoulders, and we will be rich beyond our wildest dreams.”
His wife nodded, though her heart felt heavy. “Be careful, my love.”
The shaman placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke with firm confidence. “I will return, but you must not stop drumming. Keep the rhythm steady, no matter what you see or hear. If you stop, something terrible might happen.”
His wife gazed into his eyes, troubled but trusting. “I understand. I will keep drumming, no matter what.”
With those words, he stepped into the lake, his body sinking into the cool, dark water. His wife began to beat the drum, its rhythmic thudding echoing across the lake. Hour after hour passed, the steady sound of the drum filling the air. The shaman’s wife drummed with all her strength, her eyes fixed on the spot where her husband had disappeared.
Three hours passed. Then, just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the water rippled, and the shaman’s figure emerged from the depths, dragging the two giant snakes behind him. Their glistening tails swished in the water, still submerged, but their bodies were draped over the shaman’s shoulders, their jaws snapping menacingly.
“Do not stop! Keep drumming!” the shaman shouted. His voice was strained but strong.
But the sight of the snakes, their eyes gleaming with fury, was too much for the wife. She trembled, her hands shaking as she gripped the drum. A wave of terror washed over her, and she missed several beats. Soon enough, the drum fell silent.
The moment the drumming ceased, the shaman’s power began to weaken. The snakes hissed, their bodies writhing violently in the water. With a force greater than any human could withstand, they turned and dragged the shaman back into the depths, their powerful coils pulling him down into the dark abyss.
Blood flowed from the shaman, staining the waters red as he was pulled beneath the surface. His wife stood frozen, her heart breaking as she heard his cries fade away. The water slowly returned to its eerie stillness, but it was forever changed. The once-clear lake had turned as black as night, the color of loss and despair.
From that day forward, the lake was known as Tsho Na, the Black Lake. And it is said that no Gole Bompo could resist its call, for the lake had claimed many people since that fateful day. One by one, they were drawn to its waters, as if the lake itself held a power that no man could resist.
