A very rare priviledge
Tuesday 9th May
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| I am walking to catch the bus before the sun has risen |
Lungrig says I should go to McLeod Ganj to see these meetings, which will be held publicly. So I may get an opportunity to see HH the Dalai Lama. Lungrig says maybe I should go tonight because I will need to be at the temple early, by 8am at the latest, to ensure I can find a place (translate to a tiny space) to sit.
I will go
in the morning – it would be cheaper to get a taxi all the way than get a room (that I am
prepared to sleep in) in McLeod.
Tsultrum tells me I should not take a jeep, they are too crowded. I tell them that I already have had encounters with the jeeps and introduce them to the expression
“sardines in a tin”.
Wednesday 10th
May
I’m awake
ridiculously early – the building has thermal mass and my room is still very
warm all night, despite the night being cooler than the daytime.
I leave school at
6:20am – the sun shows itself above the mountains as I walk the 1km (or so) up the hill to Fatiphur.
I discover that
the bus does not stop just anywhere, but does wait for someone running for it – I cannot work out bus fares, am only charged 4 rupees this morning.
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| Three passengers plus the driver in the front of the jeep |
I observe that
young men and children rarely move from seats for older or frail people.
The bus disgorges us a little before the bus station and I head for a jeep – along with a large number of other people. The jeep driver is clearly trying to break all records. I count 14 passengers today and the jeep is one of the smaller models. The Sikh gentleman in the very back notes my look of surprise and obvious counting of people and remarks “welcome to India”. Miscount, I didn’t see the child.
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| There were 3 more adult passengers in the very back of the jeep plus a child |
Cameras and phones
must be checked at the cloakroom.
The lovely Tibetan gentlemen assure me they will take good care of them.
I follow the
“foreigners” sign, and we go through a metal detector, have our bags searched
(whoops, probably should have thought to remove my Swiss army card previously)
and are well and truly patted down.
Having satisfied herself that I had nothing sinister hidden in either my
bra or my knickers, the young lady was happy to point me towards the
toilets. I returned and picked up
my backpack and got another pat down from a second lady who did not realize I’d
already been “done”. To be sure, to be sure.
I headed into the
general area, which was already starting to fill at 7:30am and a couple of
ladies shifted on a step to make room for me and my prayer cushion borrowed
from one of the classrooms. A particularly inspired addition to my backpack for the day, it provided a degree of spartan comfort against the solid concrete on which I would otherwise have been sitting.
I was feeling very thirsty
but discretion advised moderating my consumption of water. By 8:30am the space looked as if noone
else could fit in, but of course they could. I’m hopeless at estimating, but discussion with my
neighbours suggested that (a) such a crowd in such a space would never be
allowed in the west and (b) the crowd was incredibly self controlled for
such a big crowd in a small space.
A wonderfully colourful group, with monks in their crimson robes and Tibetan refugees in their various forms of best dress for the occasion. Traditional clothing varies from region to region and I wondered at one of the versions worn by the gentleman who positioned himself on the step by my feet. It looked to me very much like the gho worn by men in Bhutan, but he later assured me that it was a Tibetan garment.
In due course, and with sufficient pomp and ceremony, the
US delegation processed down the central roped off space from the Dalai Lama's palace. They were flanked by high school students, in rather gorgeous costumes for the occasion.
Once they were settled and seated, all went quiet in anticipation and His Holiness, the Dalai Lama enters – I
feel quite emotional and my whole body is responding: quivering – and so is my
Scottish neighbour! Heinrich
Harrer in Seven Years in Tibet writes
of His Holiness, the Dalai Lama at a young age “only a child … but the heart of the concentrated faith of
thousands, the essence of their prayers, longings, hopes.” I cannot think of any other world leader who would inspire such a reaction in me. What a different world we might live in if other world leaders possessed a similar amount of wisdom.
The gathering stands for the singing of the Tibetan national
anthem – I can only think of the one place where this really should be sung, but cannot be - to do so is a punishable offense.
The anthem is followed by prayer
– I don’t know the words, but after considerable practice in Bhutan, can recognize a Buddhist prayer.
A minute of silence is requested for the martyrs – there has been yet another self immolation in the past few days.
My position is great – I can see the speakers as they stand for their speeches and I can see His Holiness, the Dalai Lama for most of the proceedings.
Most of the delegates from the US congress
speak – some are good, some less so. I am surprised that several of them use “Tashi Delek” - the ubiquitious greeting I learned in Bhutan. I later question student Kelsun about the use of this in Tibet, and also Kadrinche La – which I had also heard
today.
The Tibetan prime
minister (in exile) spoke extremely well – focusing on how the Tibetan spirit
would endure.
Assorted traditional songs and dances punctuated the speeches - it is good that the community is ensuring the continuation of these traditions.
His Holiness, the Dalai Lama spoke last – a speech, apparently about unity of those in exile providing them with strength. Although I understood none of it, his voice is gentle, almost melodious and his speech was punctuated with gentle amusements - to which the audience responded appropriately.
No camera, apart from the official press crews, were permitted, so I share a couple of the local reporters efforts, with some lovely photos.
After the conclusion of the speeches, we are asked to wait while the His Holiness, the Dalai Lama gives the dignitaries a tour of the temple, then I wait for some of
the crowd to thin before attempting to find the office with my confiscated
goods. I'd been told they would be at the “admin office” but one official I asked advised that this is 2 Km away I decided that perhaps I was asking the wrong question. I tried again, explaining the context – am taken into the office to select my belongings.
Less quick was reclaiming my phone and camera: there was an incredibly long
queue for the cloakroom, so I joined the ladies with whom I had sat inside and
subsequently had coffee with them.
Later I left them to find something to eat – the momo I ordered had to be fresh, there was more than enough time for even me to make them from scratch! The delay, however, did mean that I missed the afternoon downpour.
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| McLeod Ganj from the road to the TCV |
This village is accessed via a lovely, peaceful
walk along a not much used road through pine forests – though which were flitting some lovely bird with long
tails. They would alight close to me, but the sound of the camera turning on was enough to have them take to the wing again.
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| Dal Lake with its surrounding Himalayan Cedars |
We discuss Dal
Lake, which she suggests I should visit since it is nearby. “Is it pretty”, I ask. “Not much”, she replies. She was right.
Dak Lake surrounded by Himalayan Cedars (Deodar) and is considered sacred. Pilgrims attending the fair in September may bathe in the lake. I can't say I found the colour of the water such that it would entice me in.
At Dal Lake I ask about a bus from
Dal Lake to Dharamsala - it comes at 5pm – it will be quicker to walk to the main road, so I reestablish which road is the short cut
and head down.
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| One of the peaks of the Dhauladhar range from near the TCV |
For rather a long time I wait for a jeep (all are full and pass me by - I was mistaken in my belief that a driver will always squeeze in one more) or a bus – it was full too, but it squeezed more in. I am glad that my handbag was in front of me
– giving me a bit of a buffer against being up close and even more personal with
the guy standing in front of me.
The bus from
Dharamsala was about to leave as I got off the previous one and I actually had a seat, and it was not quite the same struggle to
alight once I reached my destination.
I diverted at Fatiphur to the cafe Bakes and Brews – Sarah was there and Kelsun, so I joined them in something to eat and drink before heading back for a refreshing "shower" (aka throwing water over myself from the bucket) and clean clothes.
A most satisfactory day!
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