Ladies and Gentlemen, Introducing the Dalai Lama
Trip Start
Jul 25, 2006
1
103
165
Trip End
Ongoing
Dharamsala (McCleodganj),
India
Thursday, February 14, 2008
After a few days resting and taking in the beauty of the Golden Temple, I decided it was off to Mcleodganj, the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in-exile. After a day of winding, twisting roads, the bus finally pulled into the town. Grabbing my bags, I walked through the remarkable cold and to my guesthouse.
Mcleodganj perches on a couple of ridges that are the foothills leading up to the Himalayan range of mountains behind. Compared to anywhere else I had been in, well, since the trip began, it was cold. About a week into my stay, there was a huge blizzard, only increasing the remote peaceful feeling of the place. While the town is big on the backpacker circuit, it was the off season
Himalayan Prayer Flags 02
. It was nearly a month before the Dalai Lama's teachings were to begin and the town was mostly abandoned, with many shops and restaurants closed until the tourist numbers picked up. After two months in crowded, loud, in your face India, it was the perfect tonic.My time in Mcleodganj consisted of walking, relaxing, eating, talking, and exploring here and there. To the amusement of the small group of 'regulars' I saw often at the Green Hotel for breakfast, or maneuvering through maroon robed monks in the streets, I was always leaving "tomorrow". Tomorrow turned into a month, but a good one.
As the time ticked closer to His Holiness's annual teachings, the small town became packed with pilgrims, tourists, Tibetans, Kashmiri business men, Himalayan clown pant wearing backpackers and enlightenment seekers. A general excitement thrummed below the surface of street life. I am not a Buddhist, although much of my belief system (whatever that may be) is sympathetic to Buddhist thought. I find Buddhist temples to usually be a place of peace and a nice tonic to the craziness of travelling life. I had no original intentions of staying for the teachings, but as time went by it seemed stupid to not take the opportunity to hear one of the most notable figures of twentieth century history speak
Main Temple, Mcleod Ganj 01
. I resolved to stay for a few sessions, and then head out. Shortly after, with my Tibetan identification card and cheap radio and head phones (for the translator, his Holiness would teach in Tibetan), I was ready for enlightenment. On Day One, I arrived around 9 am, thinking the teachings began at 9:30. Being the smart individual I am, I had gone to the temple the day before and taped a sign on the ground with my name and country, to ensure a place to sit. So had thousands of others. The biggest difference being that they had all arrived very early in order to reach their places of the ground. I had not.
When I arrived, the Dalai Lama was already teaching. Standing in the back of the courtyard, it was obvious that I would not reach my seat without a lot of pushing, shoving and generally, very un-Buddha-like behaviour. Standing at the back, I shared my radio and earphones with a young, stunningly beautiful, and intelligent woman (Who was engaged and very much in love. Not that I asked, of course, it just came out in conversation). While the courtyard of the temple was incredibly crowded, the crowd seemed to bare it with good nature. I constantly shifted and waved the little antenna on my radio, trying to get a good signal for the translation, finally adopting a vaguely marital arts, vaguely "my back is out" position that seemed to work.
The first thing I noticed about the Dalai Lama was his voice. He had a strong, gentle, and intelligent voice. It was an impressive voice, like that of a president, pope, freedom fighter and diplomat all at once (which I suppose he is depending on your opinion)
Main Temple, Mcleod Ganj 19
. This was the voice of a man who had recently won the Nobel Peace Prize, for his "Middle Way" approach to Tibet's troubles. A way that advocated non-violence and dialogue as the way forward (an approach many young Tibetans have become frustrated with as they long for more direct action, as seen with the recent Tibet protests).When His Holiness prepared to depart the temple across the courtyard to his residence, I suddenly found myself close to the edge of the path that had been cleared for his walk back. He walked along, waving, smiling, and touching some of the pilgrims, especially those Tibetans whom had come to hear and see him. "Presence" is really the only word I can think of to describe his passing. He walked with a bit of a stoop, but was still larger, taller, and thicker than I expected. Panda like in form, with a slow gait and a hint of power that still simmered in his aging, rounded frame. His trade mark shaved head and thick round rimmed glasses adorned a face that smiled out at the crowds of Tibetan refugees, many whom had risked a dangerous trek just to be here, monks who had come from monasteries near and far, Westerners brought here by an adoption of Eastern beliefs, or simple curiosity and respect like myself.
The smile took everyone in, and his hand raised in a blessing
Main Temple, Mcleod Ganj 22
. Around me I heard an intake of breath as people became the focus of that smile. People sighed, laughed, and whispered excitedly after his smile passed over them. Suddenly that incandescent, mischievous grin was pointed in my direction and I understood why. It was a good smile.I don't have much use for celebrity. And anyone who claims divinity as a human makes my stomach churn, but the man has Presence. And a million dollar smile.
The Teachings
I fully admit to my ignorance in matters other than a basic understanding of the concepts and history of Buddhism. But I will endeavour to explain the teachings and my experience as I interpreted them.
Day one: there was a lot about fish. And water, and drought. The essence? Do good things to others, and you will be happy. Do bad things, and you will be unhappy. Prayers were randomly said, with people moving onto their knees or squatting as best they could. The foreigners stumbled along, always half a beat behind as they waited for the words of the translator
Shepard
.Day two: I arrived early this time and grabbed my 'seat' on the ground I had marked off a couple of days earlier. By mistake, the area I had put my sign down was almost exclusively Tibetan, the foreigner section starting around 25 feet to the side. I was quite close to the front, and next to the railings marking the pathway between the Dalai Lama's residence and the temple. With a blast of horns, and preceded by security and yellow Mohawk hat wearing monks His Holiness made his way to the front, all the time flashing that irresistible smile.
Today began with prayers, and then was followed with bread being given out to everyone present for breakfast, and then the Tea Ceremony. Tea - a lovely drink, beloved by the world over, whether a nice cup of Earl Grey in bonnie old England, a sickly sweet thimble of mint tea in Syria, and the milky, spicy chai on India. The Tibetans have their own version - Butter Tea. Basically Yak butter, milk, and salt. We had been instructed to bring a mug for the tea ceremony, and I had a good sized tin camping mug along with me. The young novice monk gladly filled my mug to the brim, and unsuspecting, I took a gulp.
How can I describe one's first taste of Butter tea? Hmm, gross comes to mind, sickly is a definite contender. The inside of my mouth felt like a rancid butter churn. Remember corn on the cob from the backyard barbeques of your youth? You remember the paper plates, corn smeared with butter, doused in salt, and the drippy concoction it left on your plate? Collect the salty buttery debris from all those plates, pour it in a cup, heat it up, and drink it - butter tea
LIttle Girl and Goat
.My presence was already a source of amusement to the Tibetans sitting around me, and they all noticed my grimace at the first sip of tea. Not wanting to lose face, and thinking it must be cause for returning as a cockroach in my next life to refuse tea blessed by the Dalai Lama, I soldiered on. The only thing that got me through it was the thought of it going cold and curdling.
I finished it and immediately stuck the last of my bread into my mouth in a vain attempt to soak up the cloying, clotting remnants. The young monks were passing by with more tea, and a kindly Tibetan man next to me saw my empty mug and indicated he would get it filled again. I politely indicated no while repressing my gag reflex.
The praying and chanting went on for quite a while until it climaxed with people throwing rice up into the air. Afterwards, the Dalai Lama began to teach again. Quietly smothering butter burps, and puzzling over the translator's game attempts I began to listen. I found the flow of His Holiness's voice, the hesitant murmuring of the translator, and the press of Tibetans bodies around me strangely comforting. Apparently so did the Tibetans around me. Hearing laughter behind me, I turned to see a middle aged Tibetan man sleeping, his head nodding and body slumping. Young and old giggled while one of the older women started throwing things at him. He jerked awake, and an old lady sitting behind him reached up and shoved a big piece of crystallized sugar into his mouth, and gave him a quiet scolding.
This was a common occurrence
Main Temple, Mcleod Ganj 05
. All around I could see various Tibetans nodding off and being playfully teased or simply left alone. The westerners were just the opposite - they sat ramrod straight with rapt attention and were very serious. At one point, the Dalai Lama stopped his teachings, and said there was a child near the front who looked as though he needed to go to the toilet. He asked if there was someone to take them. This got a chuckle as an embarrassed man got up and carried the child towards the back.In front of me sat what looked like three generations of Tibetan women. The oldest was wearing traditional garb, her long grey braids stretching down her back and tucked into the red sash wrapped around her waist. Another woman sat further in front of me, praying and spinning her hand held prayer wheel. Gentle snores acted as a counterpoint to His Holiness's voice and the tinny translation seeping across my radio.
I only went to two of the teaching sessions. I have pages of notes from one session of the Teachings. Seeing as the teaching went on for ten days, with a morning and afternoon session, there was a lot being covered. I will not attempt to summarize what I heard. To be honest, there was some things I heard I struggle to grasp. But being in the crowd, watching the faces of the Tibetans and knowing what he meant to them, hearing the Dalai Lama speak, and being a target of that smile was an amazing experience.
I don't care what China says - he's one of the good guys in my book.
