A taste of Tibet in the Indian Himalayas

By JAN VAN RAAY

April 21, 2000
Web posted at: 3:20 p.m. EDT (1920 GMT)

In this story: Life of mediation, prayer Sights and sounds of Dharamsala Meeting the Dalai Lama RELATED STORIES, SITES

DHARAMSALA, India (AP) -- Dharamsala is sometimes called Little Lhasa, after the capital of Tibet.

Upper Dharamsala, in the Indian Himalayas, is the seat of the Tibetan government-in-exile, the home of the Dalai Lama, and where my teen-age daughter Katrina and I had come to catch a glimpse of a Tibetan way of life no longer found in Tibet itself, in the shadow of China.

Unexpectedly, we found ourselves face-to-face with the Dalai Lama.

The town rambles up steep hills in a hodgepodge, fairy tale fashion, against a backdrop of peaks of the Himalayas' Dhauladar range. On the streets, one can see monks of all ages, women in traditional striped aprons over long dark skirts, and men in chubas. Student monks on their breaks might be found in discussions over tea.

Sacred cows of a small and bushy breed are a constant presence in the town, as are stray dogs and their pups. Monkeys travel in troops from building to building, looking for scraps and handouts. Hawks and vultures soar high overhead, diving for a meal somewhere. According to locals, snow leopards, black bears, foxes and wolves come down from higher altitudes on winter nights to prey on weaker animals.

Life of mediation, prayer

Contrasting with a fast-paced life we left temporarily at home, we were now surrounded by people who spend most of their day in meditation and at prayer. This way of life takes place not just at the temples or in their homes; many people walk the winding roads and twisting alleys with prayer beads in hand, a mantra on their lips, while perhaps spinning hand-held prayer wheels.

The spiritual center of the town is the Dalai Lama's temple, Tsuglagkhang, across a small square from his residence.

Self-conscious at first, my daughter and I spun large prayer wheels and circumambulated (meaning we walked clockwise around) the outside of the temple before entering. A prayer wheel is a revolving metal cylinder containing thousands of written prayers, and it's said by spinning the wheel you acquire the benefits of the prayers.

As we entered the temple, a monk was filling huge butter lamps with liquid fat. Wicks of bamboo and cotton wool burned long and steady in ornate metal goblets. A magnificent gilt statue of Shakyamuni Buddha rose behind the Dalai Lama's throne. To the left, facing Tibet, were the jewel-encrusted statues of Avolokiteshvara, deity of compassion, and of Padmasambhava, who introduced Buddhism to Tibet in the 8th century.

Sights and sounds of Dharamsala

Leaving the temple, we joined a crowd of Tibetans walking the Lingkor, the path that winds around the Dalai Lama's residence. We saw more prayer wheels and thousands of prayer flags flying against the deep blue sky. At first I was surprised to see very old people walking this hilly path -- I had to stop once or twice to catch my breath -- but then remembered that meaningful exercise is part of the daily routine for these people.

Tibetans here have exerted ambitious efforts to preserve homeland art and culture. The Norbulinka Institute and its gardens include a traditional temple and museum buildings housing thangka paintings, ornately carved woodwork, carpet weaving and other crafts. The visitor can see craft demonstrations and buy examples in the institute's boutique.

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There is another destination here for the compassionate visitor: the Tibetan Children's Village. It's home to 2,000 orphaned children, from infants to teen-agers, many of whom have fled Tibet. Much like the arrangement in an Israeli kibbutz, they attend school and live in dormitory-type houses with a "mother" and her helpers. We were drawn back for several visits simply because of all the hugs, smiles and laughter they gave as we played with them. Sponsoring an individual child is possible, but it was difficult to choose just one, so I volunteered an annual contribution.

It was during our stay that the Dalai Lama returned home from a teaching trip to Bodh Gaya, and we joined the throng lined along Temple Road to greet him with new prayer flags and burning incense. Sitting in the front seat of his yellow Mercedes, he gestured through the window with hands pressed together, giving us his blessings. I was deeply moved by this gesture from the man thought by many to be the living Buddha.

Meeting the Dalai Lama

Little did I know that the afternoon would bring an even closer encounter. Geshe Kalsang Damdul, who had been my Buddhism teacher in Portland and was now our host at the Institute of Buddhist Dialectics, where we stayed, drove by to ask if we had our passports with us.

"His holiness has decided to give a public audience to greet the new arrivals from Tibet. You will be able to attend," he said.

We were then rushed through the security gate at his residence, handing in our passports, cameras, and the Swiss Army knife I always carry in my pouch. I was able to put some small gifts for people back home on a tray to be blessed.

Along with a small group of other visitors, we were ushered into a small garden at the side of the house, where we found him waiting, smiling and ready to shake hands with each one of us. I was almost numb, managing only a simple mumbled, "Thank you." Katrina and I then were given red silk protection cords to tie around our necks.

For years I had been thirsty for relics of the mysterious Tibet. Now I wanted to stay in this place forever. I didn't want to be an idle tourist dallying in Buddhism. I wanted to participate in the giving of myself that seemed to make these people so content, to do whatever I could to make life better for others.

I realized of course, that I could do just that back home in Portland, Oregon. I didn't really need to relocate to this removed Shangri-La of Tibetan culture to find it. Seeing a society living such principles gave me hope and knowledge that we can make a difference wherever we are.

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