Appealing for unity through song

The Tibetan Song of Unity, first sung by Sherten in 2010, was a song that displayed the Tibetan people’s intrepid spirit in the face of China’s strong clampdown on all things Tibetan.

Please click here for the link to that beautiful song…Enjoy the lovely music! (The lyrics is given below.)

The Sound of Unity by Sherten
(Translation by High Peaks Pure Earth)

Amdo, Kham and U-Tsang all belong to the same family
We have a common destiny

Let’s all blossom together like flowers
Hand in hand in harmony

Hand in hand in harmony
Let’s step forwards

If you care about the future of our nationality
All three provinces should unite

Amdo, Kham and U-Tsang all belong to the same family
We have a common destiny

Tibetans of the land of snows
Unite as one!

Amdo, Kham and U-Tsang all belong to the same family
We have a common destiny

Hand in hand in harmony
Let’s step forwards

Starting afresh…

Two young monks playing together in a monastery

I met my cousin, Lobsang, a monk, for the first time at a prayer meeting, more than a decade ago. Jho-la (or brother), who was in his early twenties at the time, had escaped from Tibet into exile barely a year ago.

In the Tibetan world, it is not uncommon to hear stories of reunions among family members at the most unlikeliest of places. However, Tibetans, being devout Buddhists, were more likely to have such reunions during Buddhist teachings or at Buddhist holy sites which see Tibetans pilgrims from all over the world.

My family and I met Jho-la at one such prayer meeting. At the time, His Holiness the Dalai Lama was teaching at one of the large monasteries in South India and my family was there with thousands of other Tibetans to receive the initiations.

Tibetan Buddhist teachings usually last several days, as the teacher imparts knowledge on whole texts written by the Buddhist masters of the Nalanda school. A large majority of the devotees who receive these initiations are monks and nuns. These teachings are scheduled several months or even years in advance, thus allowing the monks and other lay devotees to plan their travel in advance.

Like most monasteries, the monks from Jho-la’s monastery had all traveled down to South India together to attend the teachings. My mother knew the abbot of that monastery, who, in turn, through his conversations with my brother had somehow ascertained that Jho-la was a relative of my mother’s. He, of course, came to this conclusion after finding out Jho-la’s family name (Tibetans have family names, rather than surnames); finding out his place of origin; checking if he knew the names of my mother’s family; and verifying certain details about their life to determine if Jho-la was in fact related to my mother. And he was!

I was very excited to meet Jho-la! Being the teenager that I was and having read too many Russian novels at the time, I saw this almost as a dramatic meeting of families, who had, thus far, been torn apart or made to exist separately because of the tough political conditions in one’s own country. And it was in a way true!

During that first meeting, my father and mother asked Jho-la a lot of questions about folks back in Tibet and of his plans to study Buddhism in India. We sat for several hours on end, with my parents mostly doing the asking and Jho-la answering all of their many queries. Sometimes, the answers were long, drawn-out explanations of the changes that had occurred — to people and places — and at other times, the answers were shorter, crisper, as though Jho-la was almost unwilling to say too much.

I sat quietly in a corner during this exchange. Occasionally, Jho-la turned to me and asked me a question — Do you go to school? Where do you study? Do they teach you Tibetan in your school? How far away is your school? How old are you?

Each time the questions came my way, I responded enthusiastically. But soon it was time to leave; I nudged at my father’s Chuba (Tibetan traditional robe) and slipped into his hand a crisp 500 Indian Rupee note that was my pocket money at the time. My father understood. He added a few more notes of his own to my 500 and gave that to Jho-la, with a plea that he reach out to us if he ever needed anything. After all, we were really the only family or the closest to it that he had in exile!

We said our goodbyes and promised Jho-la that we would visit him at his monastery in North India, whenever we were traveling in the area. My parents and I had walked a couple of steps ahead, when I ran back, asked for a book to scribble on and a pen to write with, and hastily wrote down our home address. You see, the internet and mobile phones weren’t yet the rage then as they are now.

Rightly enough, a year later, a letter came home from Jho-la, announcing that he had moved monasteries and was now closer home to his new family in exile.

The fortuitous impact of small acts of kindness

I grew up in exile without ever having met a single Uncle or Aunt from either of my parents side. Both my parents had brothers and sisters, who in turn had large families, back in Tibet. Still, after their escape into exile — separately, when they were much younger — in the 1960s and 70s, they lost all contact with their families until the 1980s, when Deng Xiaoping decided to open up the borders and loosen the Chinese government’s tight hold over border security.

My Pa-la (father) went to Tibet then. He was reunited with his brothers and sisters for the first time since escaping to exile. My parents had saved up some money, from which my father took some back to Tibet. Before his trip home, he told me he bought two bicycles in Nepal to take to Tibet, bags of warm clothes and swathes of cloth to gift his large family and an ever larger circle of friends and well wishers. For his sisters, he bought soaps — soaps were a rarity in Tibet and considered quite a luxury to own before the Chinese invasion (and probably for a long while after too, given the Cultural Revolution and its impact on the social-economic conditions of Tibetans). For his brothers, he bought several “Western” watches, which were very popular, and yet hard to come by, in Tibet. (I’m not sure if the brand was called “Western”, or if this was just another instance of a Tibetan mispronouncing a non-Tibetan word and never really bothering to find out what the original word was/is.)

During that trip home, Pa-la met my maternal Uncles and Aunts, or my Ashang-la(s) and Somo-la(s), for the first time too. He went to my mother’s home in Tibet and introduced himself to them as my Ama-la’s husband. Pa-la was also reunited with his brothers and sisters, my Agu-la(s) and Ani-la(s).

There, at his home, he learned of the many changes that his family had been subjected to — changes that struck them too swiftly and too cruelly, without warning. As my grandfather, my Popo-la, had passed away before the Chinese invasion, my father’s eldest brother automatically became the next head of the house; following the invasion of Tibet and my Pa-la’s escape into exile, Pa-la’s eldest brother was accused for belonging to an aristocratic family and was subsequently, subjected to tham-zing, or public struggle sessions, in community centers and finally, imprisoned and tortured in prison. However, when Pa-la made his first trip to Tibet from exile, his eldest brother was back home from spending several years in prison and recounted many a tale of the horrors of Chinese prisons.

Pa-la also learned of how his brothers and sisters, and their families, were ostracized by the rest of the community, particularly during the Cultural Revolution, in keeping with the new government’s policy of ridding the Tibetan society of aristocracy and serfdom. To be sure, Pa-la’s family owned large pockets of land for cultivation and had entire families living on the lands owned by his family — these families, in turn, worked on these lands, although the arrangement with Pa-la’s family wasn’t on the condition of bondage. Many of these people, who had earlier worked for Pa-la’s family, later became the local government heads, appointed by the Chinese government in their effort to get rid of the old ways –“serfdom” — and in its place, install “the new fours” — new customs, new cultures, new habits and new ideas. Ironically, many of these newly-appointed local heads, who previously worked for Pa-la’s family, were lenient towards the family and would, in fact, secretly warn the family ahead of any raids or arrests that were likely to take place at their house, going so far as to offer tips on how best to avoid arrests and suggestions on where they could hide certain things — areas where the local heads would be sure to refrain from checking during the raids.

So, Pa-la heard about all the kind acts that were meted out to his brothers and sisters by the new local heads — several of whom pointed out that their kindness was mainly a reflection of the kindness that Pa-la had extended to their families each time they were in dire need of help.

For Pa-la, that first trip home from exile was a great reminder of what little acts of kindness could do and how you eventually, albeit indirectly, reap the rewards of being compassionate towards every sentient being. Pa-la found happiness in knowing that despite the physical distance, he was still able to make a positive difference to the lives of his brothers and sisters during their most difficult time of existence.

Everyday Lhakar!

Today is Lhakar. It literally translates into White Wednesday, signifying the Dalai Lama’s soul day.

Lhakar is also a day that Tibetans everywhere have dedicated to committing acts of self reliance as part of the Lhakar movement — the Tibetan people’s grassroot movement that is based on the principles of non-violence and self-reliance.

Around the world, on Wednesday, Tibetans are asserting their identity through various acts of non violence and resistance. Tibetan communities in various corners of the world — be it Nangchen in Tibet, or New York in the US or Dharamsala in India — are making it a point to hold weekly gatherings on a Wednesday as part of the Lhakar movement to collectively “do something Tibetan.”

Tibetans are “Tibetian(s)” according to the Indian-government-issued registration certificate or RC book given to every Tibetan refugee in India

Tibetans are using this movement to express their pride in being Tibetan, through eating or cooking Tibetan food, speaking the Tibetan language, learning a Tibetan prayer, or wearing the Tibetan traditional dress. Many have taken to blogging sites to make Lhakar pledges of actions they will take to assert their identity.

On the face of it, many of these acts are simple, everyday ones — acts that we may otherwise take for granted. However, when these simple actions come together to form a part of a larger global movement, such as this one, they become immensely significant, relevant and hence, that much more impactful.

In keeping with the Lhakar movement, I have decided to change my blog post publishing timing to Wednesday, instead of Thursday.

Still, that does not change my belief that, for a Tibetan, every day is Lhakar — and hence, every day warrants a Lhakar act.

A Tibetan monk’s daily schedule

The tranquility of any monastery, mingled with the comforting sight of friendly faces and the soothing sounds of Buddhist chanting, is, almost always, enough to make one forget the problems and the hatred in the world outside, replacing it with a sense of peace.

Despite my fascination with monasteries and their golden rooftops, there’s nothing more fascinating than a day in the life of an ordinary Buddhist monk, who has avowed to a life of discipline, celibacy and dedication to the Buddha Dharma.

As early as four in the morning, the different cells in the monasteries are abuzz with a consortium of various alarm clocks going off simultaneously, signaling it is time for the monks to go to the main prayer hall for their morning prayers.

Absenting oneself from these prayer meetings would result in the guilty being heavily fined. Also, talking or yawning during the prayers always resulted in a sharp stinging whack on a monk’s shoulders as the prayer beads of the Gegou (or the supervisor) immediately finds its victim, or a beetroot red ear, as the Gegou pulls the guilty one’s ear.

It is some consolation though that the traditional Tibetan butter tea and phalae (Tibetan bread) are served during the prayers.

At around seven, it is back to their own cells for their breakfast and then soon after, it’s time to leave for their teacher’s cell, to learn the Buddhist philosophy. The monks value these teaching sessions very highly, often recording the entire session for future reference/study.

At around nine or so in the morning, they again assemble in the main prayer halls for their second morning prayers and finally break again about an hour later.

Lunch is usually brought in from the main kitchen in large trolleys. During their lunch, the monks sit in groups of threes or more, according to their ranks or otherwise; what is common in each group is that they all seem to always have something to laugh and be happy about. Lunch is also sometimes used as a time for many to hold debates with one another on their morning’s lesson on Buddhist philosophy.

Surprisingly, the quietest time in the monasteries are the afternoons, when all the monks have their afternoon nap. The afternoons in the monastery are the quietest time of the day and give you the impression of a huge town, whose residents have suddenly deserted it.

But just when you were wondering if the monks had suddenly left the monastery, the alarm clocks sound their wake up calls again and life in the monastery suddenly resumes, just as though it had never been interrupted.

With cushions in hand, the monks set off again to the prayer halls for their evening prayers. There again, it is the same procedure of checking identity cards, fining the absentees and punishing the inattentive. At half past five in the evening, the monks again return to their cells and have a light snack, after which they have two hours of intensive debates on the Buddhist philosophy, outside the main prayer hall.

After their much-heated debate sessions, by dusk, the monks return to their cells or to the terraces or corridors of the monasteries’ buildings to memorize huge chunks of Buddhist teachings from the thick Tibetan Buddhist manuscripts.

It is only around midnight that the Tibetan monk’s day ends — a time when the thick texts are closed, all prayers said and the tube lights in the individual cells switched off, one after another, until finally, it is only the streetlights that illuminate the deserted streets of the monastery.

Starting problem

Two Tibetans greet each other during a wedding

Introductions are perhaps one of the most difficult, time-consuming, nerve-racking ordeals that a Tibetan refugee has to go through.

I mean, how do you explain to free citizens of free nations, the concept of having to escape one’s homes to preserve our culture, nurture our traditions, save our identities, practice our beliefs, and, mostly, to have the freedom to believe, to speak, and to dissent.

While two generations of Tibetan exiles have been able to achieve this feat, the challenges for today’s generation of Tibetan exiles have increased manifold. With China’s growing prominence as a global superpower, mainly owing to its financial clout, many nations and their leaders have forgotten, or are turning a blind eye to, the Tibetan issue.

And so, it is an uphill task for Tibetans to do that which most people of free nations consider the simplest part of any conversation — introduce themselves.

The conversations, rather introductions, usually follow a similar course, and the only exceptions are those with people who have some prior knowledge about Tibet and the Tibetan issue.

It always begins with the customary question:

“Where are you from?”

The Tibetan replies: “From here.” (Assuming we’re referring to places in India, “here” would be the Tibetan refugee settlements in north and south India where most Tibetans are based)

Stranger exclaims: “From here? You don’t look local at all? Your family moved here?”

Tibetan responds somewhat innocently: “Yes. Our parents moved here from Tibet many years ago.”

“Right, right. Tibet is in India, right?”

“Wrong. It’s a separate country by itself, towards North India.” — replies a rather patient, but slightly shocked, Tibetan

“Oh! You mean you’re from North East India?” — asks a now excited stranger who feels he/she has just had an a-ha moment

“No. We’re Tibetans. From Tibet. It’s a separate country altogether. Our parents followed the Dalai Lama into exile after Tibet was occupied by the Chinese.” — says the Tibetan in response, all the time marveling at the stranger’s general knowledge (or the lack, thereof)

“Right, right. You’re all the Dalai Lama’s people?”

“Yes, you are absolutely right” — the Tibetan heaves a sigh of relief. All is well with the world again

“Hmm. Interesting. I would really like to visit your place. So what did your parents do for a living?”

“Farming and seasonal sweater selling business.”

“Wow. You have a farmhouse?”

“No, it’s not as grand as it sounds. The size of the land for cultivation per family is based on the number of family members at the time the land was distributed by the state governments of the various settlements that Tibetans reside in. For example, a three-member family should have about two to three acres.”

“Oh, okay. So, what do you grow there?”

“Mostly maize.”

“Nice. By the way, do you know how to make momos?”

“I do indeed.”

“Will you treat me to momos if I visit your place? I had them in Nepal last year, but I can never seem to find a good place that sells momos here in the city.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“I want to learn how to make momos as well. Will you teach me one of these days?”

“Sure. It’s fairly simple once you get the hang of it but you still need a different utensil to make momos.”

“Where can I get that?”

“I’m not sure where in the city but I do know that most of the shops in the Tibetan settlements sell them.”

“Then I definitely must go to these places. Anyway, I’ve noticed this for a while among people who look like you and have been meaning to ask — what is this bead-like thing you wear on your wrist?”

“These are prayer beads.”

“Oh, okay. What do you call them?”

“Tren-nga”

“Is it a fashion statement? Most people who look like you have this.”

“No, it’s not a fashion statement. We wear these because we use it to say our prayers and chant mantras”

“My God, this is so interesting. By the way, what did you say your name was again?”

“Tenzin.”

“How come everyone seems to have the same name?

…and so, it continues. And the Tibetan then explains why most Tibetans have names starting with Tenzin or Karma or Tsering, depending on which high lama gave him/her the name, how it is all dependent on the sects of Tibetan Buddhism; following which, the Tibetan has to explain the four different sects of Tibetan Buddhism, how they differ and how they’re alike, and why we had to come this far to practice our centuries-old beliefs; which then brings us to the next question of why Tibetan Buddhism is such a rage in the west and how folks like Richard Gere and Sharon Stone came to be Tibet supporters and whether they are also Tibetan Buddhists; which then brings us to the next question over how monks in Tibetan Buddhism become monks or nuns nuns, what say they have as individuals to decide their fate, the life they lead as monks or nuns;… and so it continues, the questioning and the answering.

So, you see, it’s really just a starting problem, no brake problem later though.

The bilingual conundrum!

The exiled Tibetan’s Tibetan vocabulary is riddled with words that have no place in the Tibetan language. Our vocabulary is heavily influenced by the local language of the regions we live in, so much so that the Tibetan term is slowly replaced by its Hindi or English translations.

Too often, we say aloo (Hindi word for potato) instead of sho-go, the Tibetan version. Similarly, we’re more comfortable saying poora (all) instead of tsang-ma, ma-char (mosquitoes) instead of Dhuk-drang, sabji (vegetables) instead of tsaey and pen instead of ngu-khu.

Truth be told, it’s a blessing that Tibetans are at least aware of the Tibetan equivalents of these words. One cannot say the same for many other words for which their equivalents in the Tibetan vocabulary remain a mystery to most exiled Tibetans, unless you were a linguist or a scholar of sorts.

“Walking on Knives”, as ice skating was called, in Tibet (Photo courtesy: Heinrich Harrer for the National Geographic)

To be sure, until the latter half of the previous century, Tibetans were unaware of the existence of certain items, and, hence, needed no words to describe them. As depicted in the Brad Pitt-starrer “Seven Years in Tibet,” Tibetans had never seen ice skates before the noted Austrian explorer and mountaineer Heinrich Harrer introduced Tibetans to the sport of ice-skating, which explains why Tibetans never had a word for it. At the time, Tibetans naively believed the blades of the ice skates were the latest invention meant for cutting meat more effectively!

With the turn of the century and the new millennium, Tibetans have been thrust into a world of never-ending inventions and objects for which we have been forced to invent new words. The computer, for instance, is just one of these and is called lok-le, which literally translates into an “electronic brain”. The China Tibetology Research Center has produced a voluminous body of work to standardize all IT-related terminologies and they refer to the computer as tsee-kor.

Tibetans also have new terms to refer to relatively new inventions like the Internet (dragya) and blogs (zintri). If you must know, new Tibetan vocabulary extends beyond just technology. Wild Yaks, a non-profit initiative that seeks to preserve and promote Tibetan children’s education, lists a wide array of new vocabulary for food and beverages, including Champagne-chang for Champagne and tseek-ja (meaning burned tea) for coffee.

All this points to the fact that the Tibetan language is ever-evolving and every-adapting to include the changes that the world is seeing at large. However, as is true for everyone who must be bilingual, Tibetans too must first ensure the preservation of our own language and simultaneously stay updated with current global changes and trends.

For those of us who are familiar with the Tibetan way of life in exile, we have watched too many televised interviews on VoA on a Wednesday or a Friday, during which many a Tibetan interviewee has fumbled over a word here, a phrase there, or maybe sometimes a whole sentence or two. A less uncommon sight also has been that of the anchor serving as an “auto-corrector” or “auto-translator”, every time the interviewee expresses a particular term in English, rather than in “pure Tibetan”.

Each time I watch such an episode, it is difficult not to be reminded of the foresight and wisdom in the Great 10th Panchen Rinpoche’s advise — one that should resonate ever more strongly in the Tibetan diaspora today:

“We are all Tibetans. First and foremost, we must study Tibetan well. Everywhere I go, I always ask Tibetans to study one’s own language. The situation has improved but it is still not satisfactory enough. Everybody, please ensure you study Tibetan well.”

The last Dalai Lama? Who should have the last word?

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet

We’ve all read the news by now that the Dalai Lama has speculated that he may be the last Dalai Lama. This was reported by the German newspaper Die Welt and subsequently picked up by other newspapers such as the Wall Street Journal and the HuffPost, to name a few. But according to the VoA, Tibetans are saying that the Dalai Lama’s statement has been taken out of context and, hence, is misleading.

Nevertheless, we must remember that the Dalai Lama has, for several years, cited various scenarios that may be likely with regard to his succession. This time too, his comment isn’t conclusive and appears to be a view that he has always held. (Read more about this in the second answer to the question on the last Dalai Lama on his official website).

As early as in the 1970s, the Dalai Lama told a Polish newspaper that:

The Dalai Lama office was an institution created to benefit others. It is possible that it will soon have outlived its usefulness.

Given this background, the Dalai Lama’s recent comment highlights just another of those possibilities related to his succession that have already been deliberated at length. In the end, as the supreme head of the Tibetan people (and no amount of devolution of powers will ever change that), the Dalai Lama will, I believe, do whatever is in the best interest of the Tibetan people and Tibet, just as he has all his life.

And so, there’s no doubt in my mind that the Chinese government has no right whatsoever to dictate to the Dalai Lama what he should and should not say and do. According to Reuters, the atheist-Chinese government told the Dalai Lama, the head of Tibetan Buddhism, that he should respect Tibet’s age-old practice of reincarnation. This is ironic coming from China, given that its government has, over the years, attempted to destroy Tibetan Buddhism, either by demolishing thousands of Tibet’s centuries-old monasteries or by disrespecting Tibetan cultural and religious traditions by indoctrinating the people with Chinese versions of these customs and then subjecting Tibetans to untold torture for practicing them the Tibetan way?

So perhaps, the Chinese government is not in the best position to be dictating terms to the Dalai Lama, particularly owing to the fact that despite all its efforts over half a century, the Chinese government has failed miserably at one thing — and that is in turning the Tibetan people against the Dalai Lama.

I profess to being just one among the millions of other Tibetans who feel a deep sense of devotion, gratitude, awe and wonder each time I have been in the presence of the Dalai Lama, our precious one. This is an innate sentiment that has determined the fate of the Tibetan people in that, our unquestionable faith in the Dalai Lama has made it impossible for the Chinese government to honestly boast of having complete control over all things Tibetan.

It’s not that they haven’t tried. They have — in every scheme, program, plan, campaign, tactic, propaganda, and project. And yet, they have failed.

Yes, they definitely conquered the Tibetan plateau (not that it was terribly difficult to conquer a nation armed with just prayers and prayer beads) and also managed to occupy Tibet after passing off many areas of erstwhile Tibet as their own (which means, these regions are no longer even categorized under the Tibet Autonomous Region — a separation that the Chinese regime itself masterminded after the occupation of Tibet and which constitutes less than half of historic Tibet). The Chinese regime also implemented countless strategies to force the Tibetan culture and language into oblivion or to a very-watered-down version of their former self. They even tried winning the hearts of the Tibetan people through development projects, a majority of which have come under immense criticism for the tremendous harm done to the environment and for the fact that many of them are aimed at benefiting Han Chinese migrants in Tibet. Various forms of religious and patriotic re-education programs were also introduced in Tibet, along with the launch of ten-million-something campaigns to pitch the Tibetan people against the Dalai Lama.

And yet, they have failed in all their efforts, making it ever more clear why the Chinese government will never have the last word in determining the future of the Tibetan people. Ultimately, it is the Tibetan people, as his Holiness has always said, and the Tibetan exile government, which was created to represent and promote the true aspirations of the Tibetan people, that should determine and chalk out the future of the Tibetan people and Tibetan history — whether it is in ending an age-old tradition of recognizing the Dalai Lama’s reincarnation or in requesting the Dalai Lama to be reborn as the 15th Dalai Lama to lead the Tibetan people once again.

The blog post about the blog

I am a terrible writer! Let me establish that from the very beginning. That way, you’re unlikely to visit my blog to read beautifully scripted lines about the now-not-so-mystical Tibet and its people. However, I do hope you will visit my blog for three main reasons:

1. To read honest-to-God truths about being a Tibetan — the good, the bad, and the ugly (of it) — with no self- or others-imposed censorship whatsoever. The Tibetan culture, language and heritage is undoubtedly unique, one that has exhibited its resilience over the many decades in exile by remaining true to its traditional form, while continuously adapting positively to the changing times we live in. Still, there are some pertinent issues that need to be addressed, and I look forward to asking those hard questions, or if not anything else, bringing them to light in this blog.
2. To understand and experience the lives of ordinary Tibetans, our hopes, our dreams and our ambitions, most of which may very well be quite like yours, with the only difference being that, as Tibetans, we were born with the additional responsibility of furthering our cause in every way we can. So I hope to share with you the many challenges we face and overcome as many Tibetans like me try (or in most times, struggle) to cope with having to simultaneously lead two separate lives — 1) involves working hard at your everyday job to ensure you make enough to put food on your table, and 2) involves answering the call to work and contribute towards the greater cause for Tibet.
3. To read about Tibetan achievers — young and old — through profiles, interviews and guest posts. Many of our Tibetan friends appear to have this preconceived notion that the majority of the Tibetan people are non-English speaking, illiterates, who are always seen holding a string of prayer beads in one hand, murmuring a prayer quietly (and some cases, not so quietly) to oneself. It’s interesting that while we are a very religious community, we now have our fair share of atheists, highlighting just one example of the sea of changes that have engulfed the community. Some of these changes have been positive, producing a slew of achievers in various fields. I hope to be able to share their stories with you through this blog.

Is there something you’d like to know about Tibet and Tibetans. If so, take this poll. I’ll be sure to user your feedback to write about the things you’d like to read about.