Chapter 12- Dharamsala: Blessings from Dalai Lama & Karmapa

Chapter 12- Dharamsala: Blessings from Dalai Lama & Karmapa

The Indian bus waited at the end of the settlement on the park side.  It was painted turquoise and colorfully decorated with Indian symbols for peace and good luck such as hearts and swastikas.  Jennifer was amused, imagining that she was about to board an Indian version of the “Magic Bus.”  Passengers passed their luggage up to the driver who stood on the roof of the bus and secured their items down.  Everyone was saying their goodbyes to family and friends.  White katags were being offered left and right as passengers started to board the bus.  Parents, spouses, siblings, and friends were sending off loved ones with thermoses full of Tibetan tea and sacks full of fried bread and tsampa.  No one would go hungry on this bus.  Most of the passengers were Tibetan students, heading back to Dharamsala for school.  Some were pilgrims, traveling from settlements in Southern India on their way North to seek blessings from His Holiness the Dalai Lama.  Word was spreading fast that His Holiness the Karmapa, just fourteen years of age and newly arrived from Tibet after a swash-buckling escape from Tibet, was starting to give public audience.  Only a handful of  westerners like Jennifer boarded the bus– she, the only American, the others, tourists from Europe and Australia.

Tsering and Jennifer found two seats together at the back of the bus.  They settled in and right on schedule the bus started up and pulled out of Majnukatilla.  Jennifer noticed that the folk-art painting was not limited to the exterior of the bus– the psychedelic musings covered every square inch of the interior as well– and smiled as she read the quote “No Wife No Life” painted under the dashboard.  Jennifer took out two bottles of water, handing one to Tsering and opening the other for herself to drink.  She had been sure to buy several bottles for the journey– she was constantly struggling to stay hydrated in the oppressive Delhi heat.  The driver played Bollywood music to all the Tibetans’ delight.  Jennifer noticed as the Australian passengers with whom they were sharing the rear bench rolled their eyes.

“Not this dreadful music again,” murmured the Australian man to his female companion.  “There must be some kind of obscene regulation that requires all Indian bus drivers to play this God-awful music.  I don’t know if I can survive another twelve hours of this chaos.”

Jennifer felt sorry for him.  She quite liked Bollywood music and was enjoying the festival-like mood on the bus.  It was going to be a long ride, though, an over-nighter, and Jennifer wondered if the driver would at least turn the music down while passengers tried to sleep.  The bus wound its way through the crowded and polluted streets of Delhi, making one more pick-up at Connaught Place, before picking up speed on the two-lane “highway” leading into the Northern foothills of the Himalayan border towns.  As the traffic thinned, the bus driver picked up even more speed and started to pass at any given opportunity.  Jennifer and Tsering had to keep a secure grip on the metal hand rails attached to the seat in front of them.  The bus swerved often and strongly whenever the driver had to quickly leave the passing lane in order to avoid collision with oncoming traffic.  The bus drivers used their horns frequently as a form of communication with each other, expressing their frustration liberally.  As night fell, the roads began to grow steeper and windier as they started the ascent into the foothills.  Switchbacks and bumps in the road were becoming not just frequent but regular.  Jennifer thought to put on a seat belt but realized the bus was not equipped with any.  “How were they going to be able to sleep?” she thought to herself.  In the back row where they were seated, they had caught some pretty big air several times when the bus had hit some big bumps in the road, almost hitting their heads on the ceiling of the bus.  Falling asleep might lead to serious injury.

“Tsering, I’m getting sleepy.  Do you mind taking turns staying awake and holding the rail?  We can hold each other down while the other tries to get some sleep,” Jennifer suggested.

Tsering understood, keeping one hand firmly gripped to the rail and the other around Jennifer while she let her head rest on his shoulder.  Her fatigue quickly drowned out the sounds of the adrenaline-pumping Bollywood music and horn-honking and she fell asleep.

Several hours passed uneventfully until she was suddenly woken when the bus hit an enormous rock in the road, sending her and Tsering lofting into the air, hitting their heads on the ceiling and then crashing back down onto the seat.  Jennifer was confused and dazed from her abrupt wakening.  Her head started to pound from the impact with the ceiling.  She turned to Tsering to see how he was and was shocked to see his face covered in blood.  She assumed that he had split his head open on the ceiling but it turned out he had bumped his nose on the hand-rail on the way back down.  The skin had split and the gash was bleeding profusely.  It was the middle of the night and difficult to see how deep the laceration was.  Jennifer grabbed her pashmina shawl and instantly applied pressure to Tsering’s nose.  She knew it must have been bruised pretty badly but had no access to ice.  Hopefully the bus would be making a half-way meal break soon so she could take a look at it under some light.

About thirty minutes later the bus pulled off the highway and up to a roadside restaurant.  Most of the passengers got off to stretch and eat while the rest tried to sleep.  Jennifer took the pressure off of Tsering’s nose and took a good look at the damage.  It was really swollen.  She used some bottled water to wash off the dried blood and clean the wound.  The laceration was pretty deep.  Luckily the bleeding had subsided and the blood had naturally started to coagulate.  Jennifer asked Tsering how he felt, whether he was dizzy, light-headed or nauseous.  He wasn’t.  He complained of a headache and a throbbing sensation in his nose.  Jennifer looked through her backpack for some pain medication.  She gave 2 pills and a bottle of water to Tsering and told him the medicine would help with the pain.

The Australian man was watching Jennifer administer first-aid and offered to help, “Perhaps I could do some energy work on him.  I’m a reiki healer.  I might be able to reverse some of the bruising and swelling.”

“Oh, really?  That’s kind of you.  Let me ask Tsering,” Jennifer relied.  She turned back to Tsering and tried to explain the concept of reiki to him but realized it was beyond her limited Tibetan capabilities.  She simply told him that the man wanted to help.  She stepped out of the way and into the aisle so that the Australian man could sit next to Tsering.  He meditated a few moments before placing his hands just inches away from Tsering’s wounded nose.  He held his hands there for almost five minutes, absorbing the negative energy and replacing it with healing energy.  When he finished he told Tsering, “That should do the trick.  It won’t get any worse in any case. ”

“Thank you for your help.  We appreciate it,” Jennifer said as she moved back to her seat next to Tsering.  “Do you want me to get you anything?  Are you hungry?  The bus will be leaving shortly.  I probably have just enough time to get you something.”  Tsering declined her offer and tried to go back to sleep.  Jennifer would have to keep herself awake for the rest of the ride in order to keep them both securely braced down to the seat.  The rest of the passengers and the driver boarded back on the bus.  They pulled out of the rest stop with Bollywood music playing at full volume once more and they continued their winding journey up through the dark mountain roads.  It was a long night.

When dawn broke the bus slowed and the roads straightened and evened.  Jennifer’s eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.  Tsering began to stir and looked longingly out the window at the breathtaking views of the Himalayan mountain range.  His heart ached for his fatherland that was just beyond the white peaks.  He thought of his family members, wondering if they had heard his news.  He had not contacted them since he left the monastery but he knew that word had probably spread despite his silence.  “What were they thinking?  Had he let them down?”  Tsering worried.

The bus approached a small village at the base of Dharamsala and made a preliminary stop there.  Jennifer awoke as passengers gathered up their belongings and got off the bus.  Vendors shouted out their wares and passed small clay cups of Chai through the bus windows to customers.  “Is this our stop?” Jennifer asked Tsering.

“No.  We go to top village.  Mcleod Ganj.  This is bottom village.  Norbulingka,” he replied.

The bus continued up the hill, winding along the narrow road.  Jennifer looked out the window and saw the architecture and population change from Indian to Tibetan.  The bus stopped at the center of the market at the top of the hill.  In a bustle of activity everyone got off the bus, Tsering and Jennifer the last ones.  It was still early morning and they were hungry.  Tsering carried their luggage and led Jennifer through town.  He knew of an inexpensive but clean restaurant where they could get a warm breakfast of Tibetan Butter Tea and fresh bread.  During the meal he asked the waitress if there were any cheap rooms for rent on the block.  The young Tibetan woman said she had a friend who rented rooms just down the hill.  She told Tsering the directions and gave him the name of her friend.  When they were done and paid for their breakfast, they started down the hill to find a room.  They walked down the main road and then turned off at a small foot path that led them to some small buildings with stunning views that overlooked the valley.  After asking several different people for the waitress’ friend by name they were able to secure a room.  It was big, clean and private and even had a private bathroom with a bucket.

As was the customary in India, water was supplied not by indoor plumbing, but carried in by bucket from the local pump.  The pump for their building was just a few meters outside their door.  Jennifer, looking forward to washing up, grabbed the bucket and headed to the pump.  The climate in Dharamsala was completely different than the humid heat of Delhi.  Here it was cool and fresh.  So, too, was the water.  While staying in Delhi Jennifer had relished in the refreshing sensation of dumping a bucket of water over her head, sometimes five times a day, in an effort to escape the heat.  But here in the fresh mountain air, subjecting her body to the cold water would not be so easy or pleasurable.

Once settled in and refreshed, Tsering and Jennifer decided to go to the Tibetan Office to ask questions about Tsering’s paperwork.  There was a long line as usual and after chatting with the people in front of them, Tsering learned that people were queuing up in order to register for an upcoming audience with His Holiness the Dalai Lama.  His Holiness gave public audience on a monthly basis to both Tibetans and foreign visitors.  It just so happened that Jennifer and Tsering were in town at the right time.  His Holiness would be giving audience the next morning.  The two arrived at the counter to register and were instructed to bring their identification and pass with them.  They inquired about processing refugee documents for Tsering and were told that they would need to go down the hill to a different office, the Gangchen Kyishong, near the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives for such requests.  Tsering knew where this office was and so with their passes in hand they continued down the hill.

Jennifer and Tsering had a pleasant stroll down the hill and easily found the office they were looking for.  They were greeted by a young clerk who listened to Tsering’s story sympathetically.  She was sorry to say, however, that Dharamsala was no longer issuing refugee certificates to new arrivals.  He would need to go to another Tibetan settlement in a different part of India.

“But we were sent here from Delhi.  We were told that you would be able to help us,” Jennifer said with frustration.

“There are so many new arrivals from Tibet every day.  There is no possible way for our settlement, already filled to capacity, to accommodate all their needs.  That is why we send them to larger settlements.”

“Where should he go?” Jennifer asked.

“I’ve heard that many new arrivals are going to Dheradun.  There are two settlements there, one called Clementown and one called Dekyiling,” the clerk offered.  “Perhaps you can go there and see.”

Tsering and Jennifer thanked the clerk for her time and headed back up the hill for lunch.  The disappointing news they just learned was easy to ignore with the excitement of the next day ahead of them.  Both Jennifer and Tsering had received blessings from His Holiness previously– she in New York at a three day teaching on Shantideva’s “Way of the Boddhisattva” at the Beacon Theater in New York City, and he on several occasions since he arrived in India as a refugee from Tibet.  They were thrilled to have the opportunity to receive blessings again at this time.  Jennifer thought it an auspicious sign that they happened to arrive in town one day before the scheduled audience, just in time to register and receive passes.

Once arrived back at the top of the hill, they strolled around the market looking for a place to have some lunch.  Jennifer was surprised to see so many “Injis” here– tourists from Europe, Australia and America.  Students, backpackers, dreadlocked hippies and dharma bums were all here.  Many of the local businesses catered to their western tastes: coffee houses, internet cafes, pizza parlors, and even reggae bars.  The young Tibetans mingled with the foreign visitors comfortably.  Jennifer sensed a “scene” was happening here that she would have easily fallen into during her bohemian college years.  Seeing all the restaurants offering western fare, she developed a craving for pizza.  She was curious to see how Tsering liked typical “American” food.  They found a free table at one of the pizza places and shared a pie.  Tsering was not too impressed– with the pizza or its cost.  Jennifer wondered if pizza was an acquired taste or whether she should blame the Indian cheese and tomato sauce.  She sided with the latter– she wasn’t a fan of Indian pizza either.

With nothing to do for the rest of the day, Tsering asked Jennifer if she would like to go visit the New Arrivals Center where he had stayed his first two weeks in India.  He had warm memories of this place.  She was curious and accepted.  Tsering took her down the road and into a two-story cement building.  They entered a large room that was filled with beds.  Most of the new refugees were passing the day outside, but some were hanging out on their bunks, playing cards or telling stories.  Children with bright red cheeks were running around and playing.  Tsering felt immediately at home and started up a conversation with a fellow Khampa from his region of Eastern Tibet.  Jennifer noticed that he always seemed more relaxed when he could speak his native dialect.  The children noticed Jennifer and took immediate interest in her.  They touched her skin and hair and giggled.  As new arrivals to India, these adorable Tibetan children knew limited English.  They did know how to say expressions like “Hello” and “Okay” however, and delighted in practicing their first words on her.

After their visit at the New Arrivals center, Jennifer and Tsering were starting to feel fatigued from their lack of sleep the night before on the bus.  They went back to their room and lay down for a nap on the comfortable queen sized bed that was dressed with thick Tibetan style blankets.  They must have been more tired than they knew because they slept through dinner time and did not wake until early the next morning.

It was just after sunrise when they awoke, refreshed and energized for the big day ahead.  Surprised that they had slept through the evening meal, they decided to dress quickly and take an early breakfast.  Most of the restaurants were still closed– the only place they found open was a western style guesthouse that served a continental breakfast.  They ordered tea, eggs and toast with butter and jam.  Tsering was getting exposure to all sorts of new culinary experiences now that he was traveling with Jennifer.  Unlike the pizza, he seemed to enjoy this breakfast greatly, especially the jam.  This simple breakfast cost three times as much as their usual Tibetan breakfast of Boja and Balep but wasn’t nearly as filling.  Their budget was not going to afford indulgences like this regularly– this was a special treat on a special day.

Tsering suggested they go to the market which was just starting to open up for the day.  They were going to need khatags to offer His Holiness.  They each had some packed in their bags back at their room but this occasion called for perfectly new ones.  They were soon to be in the presence of the Dalai Lama, after all, and they wanted to offer their Body, Speech and Minds in their purest forms possible to His Holiness.  Neither Jennifer nor Tsering had proper clothes to wear– most Tibetans were dressed in their finest robes for this occasion.  Tsering had just one change of clothes to his name and Jennifer had given most of her clothes away when she thought she was going to be taking the vows of a nun.  They would just have to wear the simple clothes on their backs and offer aspirations from their hearts instead.

It was nearing eight o’clock and Jennifer and Tsering thought it best to head towards the Tsuglakhang, the Dalai Lama’s temple which is directly opposite His Holiness’ residence where the day’s audience would be taking place.  The line was already forming and they took a place in the queue.  The line moved fast enough as each person was checked for identification, passes and bags searched.  Once inside the courtyard of the residence complex, security divided the line in two.  Tibetans were to proceed to the garden where they would wait for a group audience with His Holiness.  Foreigners were to queue separately in another line.  Tsering and Jennifer parted ways.  Jennifer found herself in line with a group of Australians.  They all shared their excitement about the blessing to come and stories about previous meetings with His Holiness.  The buzz of anticipation in the air was tangible.  Everyone seemed to be resonating at a very high level frequency.  Joy and lightness of being shined on every face, in every smile.  An hour passed before the line began to move again.  The audience with the Tibetans must have come to an end and now the foreigners were being ushered into line with the Tibetans for individual blessings.  Jennifer looked anxiously for Tsering– this was the first time they had been separated since the day they made their decision to be together back in Sarnath.  She did not see him– there were too many people.  She refocused herself as she heard people in line in front of her saying, “Oh, I see him!” as they turned the corner around the garden wall.  She started to chant Chenrezig’s six-syllable mantra lightly under breath and took out the pure white khatag, unfolding it gently and cradling it lightly over her hands in front of her.  She also took out a white envelope with an offering of rupees inside.

As she turned the corner she, too, caught a glimpse of His Holiness and the red and saffron colored robes of his attendants.  A calm silence passed through the devotees in line and one could hear only the deep, warm voice and the occasional chuckle of His Holiness as he greeted and blessed each person individually as they passed through the receiving line.  Jennifer’s hands began to sweat and tears welled in her eyes as she grew closer to His Presence.  She continued to recite mantras in reverence and in an effort to focus herself.  This was the closest she had ever come to His Holiness.  Attendant lamas were accepting khatags and offerings from devotees just before they reached His Holiness.  Jennifer offered her white envelope and khatag which the lama in turn wrapped around her neck in blessing.  She was just a few feet from His Holiness at this point.  Her heart was racing.  It was her turn to receive blessing.  She bowed her head in reverence and humility and said the simple words “Tashi Delegs.”

His Holiness responded in kind with “Tashi Delegs” and lightly touched his hands to hers.  She continued on in line to the next lama who handed her an image of the Bodhisattva Chenrezig, a pack of blessed Tibetan pills and a red cord to wear around her neck.  For these few moments in His Presence, time seemed to stand still.  Jennifer stood still in an effort to process the moment as a security guard kindly asked her and others to keep moving along in order to maintain the flow.  Jennifer noticed two young Tibetan nuns to her side were weeping.  She imagined that they were new arrivals who had just experienced their first encounter with His Holiness.  This was the very reason they had left their home in Tibet.  They had just accomplished what many in Tibet can only dream about.  They had seen “Kundun”– “The Presence.”

Jennifer walked down the road back to the garden where she found Tsering.  He was with Urgyen Sonam, a mutual friend from Riwoche who had attended the Vajrakilaya Drupchen with them both in Nepal.  Interestingly enough, Urgyen was not wearing monks’ robes either.  Like Tsering, he had given back his vows.  Jennifer was happy to see Urgyen again and was also relieved for Tsering that he would be able to relate with someone close to him that had his own experience.  She knew Tsering was struggling with the after effects of being an ex-monk.  It would be good for him to spend time with Urgyen.  The friends all went to lunch together at a Tibetan resaurant.  Urgyen told them he was going to seek audience from His Holiness the Karmapa that very afternoon.

“Really?!  His Holiness the Karmapa is giving audience today, too?!” Jennifer was surprised to hear this.

“His Holiness the Karmapa gives audience daily.  Every afternoon at his residence at Gyuto Monastery.  We can take the bus down to Norbulingka.  So many Tibetans are coming here to see him since his arrival to India.”

“Sure, why not!  It will be the holiest day in my personal history.  Dalai Lama in the morning, Karmapa in the afternoon!” Jennifer laughed.

After their delicious and affordable meal of momos and thukpa, the three friends boarded a local bus in the village square.  It took them down the hill to the lower village where they got off and walked to Gyuto Monastery, the temporary residence of the young Karmapa, the head of the Kagyu lineage of Tibetan Buddhism.  People were waiting on the outer balcony of the temple for the audience to begin.  The friends sat down on the floor and chatted.  Jennifer noticed a group of Tibetans and westerners not far from them.  It was the three children playing nearby that drew her attention.  The children were clearly multi-racial, two of them with dark brown hair and light almond-shaped eyes and the third blond with dark almond shaped eyes.  She wondered who their parents were and then saw the youngest of the three run to his mother, a white American woman.  The father, she assumed, was a long-haired Tibetan man who was looking affectionately at the mother and child.  Jennifer immediately felt a sense of connection to this family.  “Was this what her future would bring?” she wondered to herself.

“Tsering, look at that family there.  Look at their beautiful children,” she said, drawing his attention to the group sitting near them.

Tsering looked and perhaps out of embarrassment or shyness did not comment.  Urgyen laughed and said, “Jessi– that’s what your babies are going to look like!  Aren’t they so cute, Tsering?!” he teased his friend.

People started to rise as word spread that the temple was being opened for the audience.  Small groups of fifty or so were being let in one at a time.  Their turn had come.  They entered the grand hall of the temple.  The walls were white and tangkhas hung high from the ceiling.  They prostrated and took seats on the carpeted floor.  Everyone maintained a silent reverence or murmured mantras under their breath.  Soon, lamas entered a side door and everyone rose to stand.  His Holiness the Karmapa entered the room.  The young fourteen year old lama climbed the stairs onto the altar and placing his hands in prayer mudra at his heart bowed respectfully to the devotees in attendance and then took a seat in the arm chair provided for him.  The devotees all prostrated three times before sitting back down on the floor.

Once everyone was settled in, the young Karmapa chanted prayers quietly over them.  Jennifer was spellbound.  The moment His Holiness had entered the room she felt the kingly presence of a Lion.  She was enchanted by his physically large form, handsome features, and regal gaze.  “How could such a young person have such presence?” she wondered.  After His Holiness had finished with opening prayers, he began to speak to the audience in Tibetan.  Jennifer and the American mother were the only foreigners amongst the devotees.  Jennifer did not understand enough Tibetan to follow the content of His Holiness’ message but she felt she was receiving precious wisdom just from being in his presence.  When the audience was over, His Holiness rose.  Once again he brought his hands in prayer mudra at his heart center and thanked his audience for their support.  The devotees were ushered out another side door.  As Jennifer passed through the doorframe she stopped and felt the urge to take a look back at His Holiness.  He was still there, sitting back in the arm chair.  At that moment he happened to look her way and it seemed to Jennifer that His Holiness took a moment’s curiousity in this “Inji lady” with short red hair who was with two ex-monks.  She felt a connection with this powerful Lama.  She made an aspiration that she may have the good fortune to meet with His Holiness again and turned back to exit the temple.  As they exited, each devotee was given a thick strip of red fabric to tie around their neck as protection and blessing.

The three friends were flying high.  So much good fortune in one day.  They sat down on the front steps of the temple and looked out at the brilliant blue sky and watched the white clouds float by.  There was nowhere to go, nothing to do– only to sit and relax in the vast expanse of the precious moment.  They were perfectly present in the here and now.  Someone walking past asked if they would like a picture.  Jennifer had a habit of always carrying a camera with her so she took it out of her backpack and handed it to the kind person.  They smiled and the perfect day was now recorded on film.  It was an historic moment for all of them.