I stood before that piece of rock, trying to make out how large his foot must have been. At its edge, I could see the distinct impression of a large toe, next to it the gentle undulations of the smaller ones. Or was I imagining it all? Was it just another bit of stone surrounded by layers of legend, lore and the iron railings of the Archaeological Survey of India?

I moved around the coronation area like a questing beetle, huddled under an  umbrella, occasionally stamping my feet to discourage leeches. Two children watched me from a distance, disappointed that I was not providing more entertainment. I wondered whether similar spectators had spied on the coronation of the first king of Sikkim, in 1641. I tried to imagine the scene: three lamas standing gravely around the throne, on which sat a man in his late 30s, who till the other day had been a milkman in a remote mountain village.

Then — the story goes — Lhatsun Chenpo, the first among the three lamas, said, “In the prophecy of the Guru Rimpoche it is written that four noble brothers shall meet in Sikkim and arrange for its government. We are the three of these, come from the north, west and south. Towards the east, written it is, there is a man named Phuntsok, a descendant of brave ancestors of Kham. According, therefore, to the prophecy of the Guru, we should invite him.”

And with these words, the milkman Phuntsok passed forever into history.