Visitors
are free to roam except to the monks' residential quarters. The ambiance
is warm and collegial. Wistful sketches of the Potala Palace hang beside
paintings that depict scriptural stories and fierce Tibetan deities. Most
monks are refugees from Tibet (rather than born in India) and speak only a
smattering of Hindi or English; their monastic education is entirely in
Tibetan. Each day they study philosophy, tantra, history, geography,
Tibetan, etc. (but not Hindi or English, forcing an additional state of
exile on the monks, some mere kids drafted into the order). Few among the
Indian-born Tibetans — or Tibetan-Indians, depending on how they see
themselves — choose to become monks.
Student
monks gather each
day in the courtyard
and, in small
groups, debate
nuances of Buddhist
thought, even as
other monks and
pilgrims in the
complex indulge in
the un-Buddha-like
practice of
mechanically turning
prayer wheels. The
monks also perform
Buddhist rituals and
learn the art of
making tormas (butter sculptures)
and sand mandalas.
As they approach
adulthood, monks are
free to quit the
order and join the
laity, as many do; a
few proceed to get
the monastic
equivalent of Ph.Ds;
fewer still become
rinpoches, or
precious teachers.
The monks don't
study science -
surprising, given
the Dalai Lama's own
interest in and
openness to science,
and the lack of an
inherent conflict
between science and
Buddhism - but then
Buddhist philosophy
too is preoccupied
with using a
(different) set of
disciplined,
rational techniques
to understand the
nature of reality
(I've discussed this
topic further in
section 3 of this essay).
While
in McLeod Ganj, I also saw the annual
Buddha Purnima festival around the
Tsuglagkhang complex. It marks the day of the Buddha's enlightenment at
Bodh Gaya,
Bihar,
India. Since the Buddha is also a
member of the Hindu pantheon—a slick retrofitting job by the Brahmins made
him the 9th avatar of Vishnu—thousands of pilgrims, ascetics, and other
poor Hindus descend from surrounding areas to pay homage or to collect
alms. A few even arrive after multiple days of travel. I saw many severely
disabled people here, including lepers with festering sores (some had also
been cured of this easily curable disease; though leprosy rates have
declined in India because of govt. programs, talking to the patients
reveals the social stigma that still surrounds leprosy and the sad
persistence of misinformation about it). Buddhist monks start their
celebrations at midnight with chants and prayers and donate generously
with open arms. This vast, deeply affecting, and uniquely Indian drama
that unfolds is over by the evening with the visitors returning home.
When
not traveling, the
Dalai Lama gives
occasional public
audiences. Over
140,000 Tibetans
(including those
born after 1959, the
start of the exile)
live in India as
refugees, 80% of
whom have not
applied for Indian
citizenship, hoping
one day to return to
Tibet and regain
their theocratic
state. Oddly enough,
their largest
strength outside the
Himalayan belt is
in Karnataka.
Each year, about
3,000 refugees still
make perilous
journeys across the
Himalayas to come to
Dharamsala (a good
recent documentary
is Tibet: Cry of
the Snow Lion).
Given the Dalai
Lama's emphasis on
nonviolence,
compassion for the
adversary, and
peaceful
negotiations, their
hopes for Tibet rest
entirely on a more
enlightened Chinese
government coming to
power in their
lifetimes.
Meanwhile, smart
money is not betting
on this outcome.
