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ལྷག་དཀར་ཉིན་ཀློག་རྒྱུའི་སྙན་དེབ་ཁག

September 6, 2011, 11:13 am
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Sungchuk Kyi
Sungchuk Kyi was born in Amdo, Northeastern Tibet. She is, perhaps, one of the most accomplished exile Tibetan women poets writing in Tibetan. Her poetry books include Tomb, Corals' Fate  and Cry of the Earth, a collection of short stories.

She escaped from Tibet in 2002 after a renewed crackdown on Tibetan literature and intellectuals by the Chinese authorities. Kyi's new book collection of poems is ready for publication.
































































Lachap Jinpa


















Lhachap Jinpa was born in a small village near Labrang in Amdo, Northeastern Tibet. In 2002, Jinpa escaped into exile after he distributed political literature, including pamphlets about self-immolation of Pawo Thupten Ngodup.

His poems were published in various Tibetan literary journals, including Drangchar (Drizzle) and Bod Kyi Tsom Rig Gyutsal (Tibetan Arts and Literature). His new collection of poems is ready for publication.




































Yangkho Gyal

Yangkho Gyal was born in Amdo, Northeastern Tibet. In 2002, he escaped into exile. Gyal has published seventy poems and essays in various Tibetan literary magazines both in Tibet and in exile.
Gyal is currently one of the two Election Commissioners of the Tibetan Government in Exile. His new book of poems is ready for publication

























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To Whom It May Concern:

September 29, 2011, 10:32 pm
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This is to certify that this man is
A half-backed nut flew off
From a disused frying pen,
A black pebble shot forth
From an un-owned sling,
A broken eggshell
Fallen off from an abandoned nest.
He is equipped with claws
Horns, tails, hoofs and hunger.
He is an anti-anti-social element
Constantly throwing up words
Into the degradable social garbage.


This is to certify that his twisted mind
Sees vulture picking on his eyeballs
Dead donkeys smiling with absolute satisfaction
A woman dragging her husband with a single strand of hair
And a headless man digging nine layers of holes singing
‘From the ashes of bombed words
May arise a future planted on an open book.’

This is to further certify that this man
Is indeed a white crow with a black hat.
He may be a danger to himself
And all those who may touch and feel him.
Let everyone be warned that this character
Had to be released from our claws
Since we failed to control his contagious views
That has already infected some of our good brothers.
A day before he was let off, he scribbled –
‘I see a wingless vulture fly and
A five-legged rabbit dig through a boulder.
A dead man staring into the horizon
To count the stars winking at him.
A poet with a shovel in his hands
Digging for frozen earthworms
A monk who lost his robes says
‘Order is chaos. Chaos is order.’
To a five-star general who is being
Thrown into the nine-layered hole.
And a headless man ecstatically sings,
‘From the debris of hung-up hopes
May arise a future hooked on a pen.’

This is to conclude that this character has no place
In our harmonized, sanitised, categorised and advertised world.
Our suggestion – Shun him, pun him, mock him, dock him
And if possible banish him.

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Fight of the Warrior Monks

October 20, 2011, 9:15 pm
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At around 1 pm on 17 October, 20-year-old nun Tenzin Wangmo has set herself on fire while shouting ‘Free Tibet!” She is from the Mamae Dechen Choekhorling Nunnery in Ngaba in Amdo, North-eastern Tibet. Wangmo, who has died from burns, was the first nun and the latest case of self-immolation.

Sophie Richardson, China director at Human Rights Watch, writes that China’s “security measures designed to curtail the right to free expression, association, and religious belief in Tibetan monasteries are not legitimate.” Additionally, these measures have ratcheted up tensions as we are seeing in Ngaba. To date nine youths have set themselves on fire and more are most likely in line.


Eight of the nine youths who set themselves on fire
Buddhists believe that the possibility of being born as a human is as rare as a sea turtle sticking its head out of a lone tyre tube floating on a vast ocean. Furthermore, Tibetans also believe that if one takes ones own life, then it would take five hundred rebirths before being reborn in the human realm. If these beliefs are true, then why do Buddhist monks — who are trained in the fundamental teaching of compassion and respect for all sentient life — douse themselves in kerosene and set fire?

The answer lies in Beijing’s failure to understand that the Tibetan people’s aspiration is not for more roads, railways or airports — merely to bring in more Chinese migrants and to transport resources from Tibet to China — but for freedom. Tibetans crave the freedom to practice our religion, speak in our own language and most of all the freedom to decide our future in their own space without being poked and prodded with bayonets.
This fundamental Tibetan aspiration is clearly articulated by 19-year-old Norbu Damdul, who set himself on fire at around noon on 15 October while shouting “Complete Independence for Tibet!” and “Return of His Holiness the Dalai Lama to Tibet!” Damdul is the seventh case of self-immolation to protest against the People’s Republic’s repressive rule over Tibet.

The situation in Ngaba, where most of the self-immolations are taking place, has now reached a very critical state with Beijing’s increased spending on security leading to monastery blockades, the mass detention of monks and making it mandatory for monks to obtain official permits even to go out of their monastic compound. Earlier this year, Kirti Monastery’s water supply and electricity were cut off and visitors, including the monk’s relatives, were banned from entering into the monastic compound.
Panoramic View of Ngaba with Kirti Monastery at the left
The authorities have now stationed an armed garrison of People’s Armed Police at each of the three main gates leading to Kirti Monastery and another armed contingent has occupied a 20-room section within the monastery. Moreover, the monastery is today carved up into five sections; these are divided into fifty smaller divisions, which are further divided into smaller units for easier security control and to subject the monks to ‘Patriotic Education’ and ‘Strike Hard’ campaigns. This virtual imprisonment, confining them to their rooms, involves intense ideological ‘education’ requiring the roughly 2500 monks to repeatedly recite, ‘I oppose the Dalai clique’, ‘I will not follow splittism’, ‘I love the Communist Party’ and ‘I recognize the Party’s great kindness’. The monks are thus being denied basic fundamental human rights such as freedom of expression, freedom of movement, freedom of thoughts, freedom of religion and above all the freedom to decide their future.

The demand for these freedoms by the monks of Kirti Monastery, and Beijing’s denial and consequent crackdown on the desperate monks, symbolizes the core of Tibet’s China problem. Beijing’s heavy-handed responses — whether it was in 1989 when their own students protested on Tiananmen Square or to the 2008 popular protests in East Turkestan (Ch. Xinjiang) or the current military repression in Ngaba — only provide temporary solution. The root causes of these demonstrations are not being addressed. Without a solution being reached, the protests in Ngaba will continue and the number of Tibetans wanting to die for the struggle is almost certain to escalate.
Aerial view of Kirti Monaetery
China must realize that the increased armed security deployments in Tibet, and particularly in Ngaba, have been a major factor in mounting tensions that have led to continuing peaceful protests in which monks and former monks — as their ultimate form of non-violent action — are setting themselves on fire.

As in the cases on 7 October of 20-year-old Khaying and 18-year-old Choephel, who set themselves on fire (both have since died from injuries and possible torture) the Chinese security personnel first put out the fire and then started beating Damdul before removing from the scene. No information is available on his medical condition or whereabouts.

Tapey, a young monk in his twenties, who set himself on fire in February 2009, was the first-ever case of self-immolation by monks in Tibet. Since then eight youths have set themselves on fire.  Their average age is barely twenty. And so it seems that Tibet’s struggle for freedom is now firmly in the hands of a new proactive generation.

When freedom-of-movement was severely curtailed in Ngaba, Tibetan farmers and householders strung their goats with papers bearing slogans such as Free Tibet. This reveals the extraordinary national resolve when cornered and driven to a state of utter desperation, to remain committed to non-violence and find creative ways to fight back against the occupation. Such peaceful creative resistance will continue until Beijing allows the Tibetan people their legal right to self-determination.
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Under the Grey Veil

October 31, 2011, 4:04 am
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Review of The Sun-Beaten Path directed by Sonthar Gyal

Sonthar Gyal’s (a young Tibetan filmmaker in Tibet) film The Sun-Beaten Path— which won 2011 Dragons and Tigers Awards at the Vancouver International Film Festival — is in many ways a trenchant criticism of today’s Tibet, where individual Tibetans battle against not only their tragic personal life but also against the overwhelming encroachment on their collective way of life and the wholesale eradication of their ancient culture. Gyal’s picture reminded me of actor-director Sean Penn’s Hollywood film Into the Wild, which combines two popular genres – the road trip and the struggle of man versus nature. It tells to tell about Chris McCandless, a disillusioned young man who discards his comfortable life so he can make his way into the wilderness of Alaska in search of untamed solitude.


Gyal’s film, however, tells the fate of a grieving and guilt-ridden young farmer on his way back from a pilgrimage to Lhasa after he had killed his mother in a tragic road accident. Nyima, the protagonist, having grown up under a new and sterilized social system, isn’t sufficiently rooted in his culture to give him the strength and fortitude to bear the heartbreaking events he’s facing. This culture is personified in the film by an old man Nyima encounters on the way; the stranger’s funny yet wisdom-laden stories gradually salve his emotional pain. The old man’s genuine compassion, and insistence on helping, finally enables Nyima to return home along the same dirt road where his small tractor killed his mother.

The young Tibetan director’s brilliance lies in locating the film on the harsh, barren and unforgiving landscape cut across by an endless road. The inexorable backdrop magnifies Nyima’s guilt and self-reproach by manifold. The sparse dialogue further enhances the guilt and the sorrow. The dishevelled, stone-faced loner — exceptionally acted by Yeshi Lhadruk — who walks along tarred road, rejects every offer of free ride by the fast-travelling vehicles. “Buses travel too fast,” he says to the old man. “I forget my troubles when I walk.”
two lead actors

Perhaps there's something seductive about the idea of turning one's back on civilization and all its baggage, especially in a world that is fast turning into a culvert, where everyone chases their dreams driven by the endless run for money and yet more money. In this sense, Sean Penn’s Into the Wild is an incisive criticism of the contemporary world — its endless rat race, complicated system and fast pace — which drives peace, fulfilment and inner satisfaction to the furthest corners of people’s lives. In the same way, The Sun-Beaten Path subtly focuses on a culture where a stranger (in this case, the old man) goes out of his way to help others (Nyima, in the film) as opposed to utter disregard for fellow human beings as happened in Guangzhou in China recently. As many as eighteen people ignored a two-year-old child being crushed by two cars in a hit-and-run case. The kid later died in the hospital.

Without using any clichés and stereotypical images of Tibet, which could necessarily mean monks and monasteries, prayer-flags and prayer wheels or forever-smiling farmers and green pastures, Gyal has clearly managed to get the message of Tibet today across.

Lines of trucks endlessly pass by on the sun-beaten metalled road, but they do not have the power to ease Nyima’s inner problems. When everything turns upside down — and the world becomes an endless grey veil — the only salvation comes from the ancient wisdom that flows from the old man’s mouth.

This, perhaps, is the strongest message that anyone can convey in any creative work. Sonthar Gyal has done this perfectly without overstating or undermining anything.
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 The Sun-Beaten Path directed by Sonthar Gyal was premiered on 30 October 2011 at the Tibet Film Festival jointly organized by Swiss-based Filming for Tibet and the India Chapter of the Students for a Free Tibet.
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News of Deaths from Far Away (a short story)

November 10, 2011, 10:01 pm
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I sat down below the waterfall to read the letter, and sensed that a tragedy had taken place. I only needed to know how my brother had arranged the words to measure its gravity. Water keep hitting the rock. Stray drops fall on the pebbles and dry. A black-billed magpie flies by showing off its tail. The sunrays trickle on the waterfall producing a mini rainbow. Everything is transitory, I thought.



I was a frail but intelligent child. Once when I was climbing a tiny hill with brother and a few other boys. When we reached the half way up, I could not walk any more. I was tired, hungry and angry with myself. “You are shit useless. You are like a girl. Next time don’t come with us stay at home and do the knitting,” my brother said. Echo still rings in my head.

“He is a boy who knows but never speaks” was my father’s assessment of me. At the age of ten I was smuggled out of Tibet and sent away to a refugee school in India so that I could obtain a decent education. My parents as subsistence farmers under Chinese occupation struggled to feed six children.

The roaring of the water vaguely echoed in his ears and pictures momentarily flashed and faded.  Years… how the years go swiftly passing by elapsing into decades. “I am a man now,” he thought, “and soon, perhaps, death will come.”

This was not the first time that he heard about death in the family from whom he had been away for so long. News of one death and then another made, over the years, made him to think about death often. Death is a step, a change of form or simply a new appointment. Death, however, seldom sends advance notice. It sneaks in quietly.

The rhythmic flow of the waterfall and the stray drops falling and drying on the pebbles. His mind sharpened and pondered deeper about the final stage – the cessation of life.

At the time of death the five elements with which human body is made up of dissolve into each other, a physician once told him. Dissolution of earth element into water hinders movement and forces the eyes to lose their vision. Breakdown of water element into fire triggers drying up of bodily fluid and loss of hearing. Fire element dissolves into wind and diminishes physical warmth and sense of smell. Finally the dissolution of wind element into consciousness causes inability to breathe and loss of the sense of touch. By the time the internal breathing ceases we begin our step into bardo, or the intermediate between the death and rebirth. Finality of death, he imagined, may be better than the endless pangs of dislocation.

Clutching the folded letter tightly, he took a long breath. Death made him feel small, while an ant crawling on his arm made him feel big. Life is a series of contradictions. Everything ends in death, which is a beginning of another journey. He put the folded letter into his pocket and reclined on a smooth rock. Enormity of the clear blue sky brought memories of another death.

A letter had arrived on a warm summer’s day, exactly ten years ago. A thick brown envelope wrapped in transparent polythene. His aunt, a nun living a life of a hermit, had already opened the letter. There was no trace of misfortune on the envelope as she had absorbed the shock, the sadness and angst of opening it. She navigated through the assembled words and calamity crowded into her face.

When she recounted the news of his father’s death, tears abundantly rolled down his cheeks. It was neither the intensity of sadness nor the piquancy of her narration that prompted his eyes to flood. The tears were for his father’s youthfulness – he was a forty-two years old man, the head of a family, and a father of six children. He was an ordinary human being liable to all the vices of the world. Yet, there were no wrinkles on his face and no one had suspected that his final appointment would come so soon. The clock fast forwarded its hands.

His aunt told him that she knew his father as a child. She was fond of him. Shaking her shaved nun’s head she sighed, heaved her shoulders and said, “Why didn’t you take me instead?” But death cannot be exchanged nor can one conjure magic and play tricks on it. Death is perfectly serious. It announces only when the time is up, PG thinks.

Back in the boys’ hostel he hid the letter in his trunk between a neatly folded uniform and his spare bed sheet. The rigidity of the school curriculum forced him to banish memories of his father to the far borders of his mind. He was a good student, who did well in the class. Every now and then he asked double-edged questions that prompted one of his teachers to remark that PG was a subterranean fire. He did this to see not so much as find answers to his questions, but to find out if the answers that he had in his mind corresponded to the ones the teachers gave.

Over the following years the letter shifted its residences first into a plastic folder, where clippings from newspapers were stored, then into a leather briefcase and eventually into a photo album. A few days before he left school, he burnt the letter along with used notebooks and a bunch of assorted papers including photos of football stars, movie actors and skimpily clad models. Papers crackled in the fire and blue smoke curled into the sky. As words bent in agony under the heat, the other news in the letter about his sister’s marriage disappeared into blackened ashes. Death overwhelmed everything else.

His cheeks are wet. Perhaps, stray drops from the waterfall landed on his face. The blue sky, the gushing waterfall, the news of death and the memories of his father added fuel. He shifts his butts on the smooth rock, stretches his legs and stares at his almost worn-out hiking shoes. The shoes eventually blur from his vision and his thought runs into the labyrinth of his recollection. Memories don’t die. They just remain dormant and then pop up when time is ripe.

One winter, exactly twenty years ago, he learned that his grandfather had passed away. It was strange, almost ethereal. He was ten years old. In his world of curiosity and innocence, where comics and catapults meant more, death was beyond his imagining.

He used to dream of his grandfather, a white-haired towering giant sometimes bombarding him with commands and at others showering him with stories. His dreams often ended up him wide awake searching for a human voice. Darkness of stinking boys’ hostel never spoke. It made his nights longer.

When in class, Phurta Gyal measured time keeping his grandfather as the yardstick, considering him the oldest, older than the hills, rivers and trees. How could a child know that time is an infinite illusion. Its immensity and fluidity dries up the rivers and dwindles down the mountains. It was time that eroded his towering grandfather.

His aunt told him that his grandfather had died. Misfortune when not enveloped in words seemed lighter. Printed words made everything more solemn. She spoke as casually as possible fearing a child’s outburst. She did not need to fear. He saw his grandfather in his dreams. He did not shed tears nor did he feel the heavy air of death hanging around him.


Since his grandfather’s death, he had learned to see everything in a new light, a new perspective, a new time frame. The old wall had fallen and from the debris of his scanty memories he laid a fresh foundation. He needed a new wall to lean on.

The black-billed magpie landed on a nearby rock and cawed, waking Phurta Gyal from his layered thoughts. Cloud resembling woolly-sheep has formed in the north and the breeze from the river has turned chilly. He gets up and drives away the traces of thoughts from his mind.

As he walks down the stony path, he eyes at the magpie and says, “Are you my brother-in-law?”
One can be free neither from death nor from its consequences.

A little later he folded the letter and with it the memory of his brother-in-law.
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Things Happen Here

November 19, 2011, 2:44 am
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“Oh! You are still here,” said a monk, who I knew from my school days. “So good to see old Dharamshala faces who are still around.” He has come back for a short visit from the US, after twenty years. He fished out a five hundred-rupee note from his wallet, slipped it into my pocket and said, “Thi’i solja choe rog nang.”
This made realize that I am now a pukka-Dharamshala-wallah or the ‘real Dharamsala resident’. Even the garbage can knows me, I fear.
Over the years, I have noticed, this place gets busier, restless and more energetic — hotels get bigger, food more varied, more tourists come and more things happen.
Materially almost everything is available here, including relatively good wine (very expensive though!), top-quality Manchester United soccer jersey and third-class Made in China nylon socks (if you wear these socks for three consecutive days, your feet will stink worse than over-flowing public toilet!) Today, I saw a new comer from Tibet selling yaksha kampo or dried yak meat and tea bricks, which he claims came all the way from Dhartsedo, a Tibetan trading town bordering China.
But what about some events to balance out the onslaughts of material progress?
This October/November Dharamsala experienced some of the most interesting creative events in the exile community.

‘Our Land, Our People’: a site-specific art exhibition

New York-based Tibetan artist, Tenzing Rigdol, clandestinely managed to bring out over 20,000 kg of soil from Tibet, which was exhibited at the Tibetan Children Village School for three days on a raised stage, larger than a basketball court.
Tenzing Rigdol putting final touch to the exhibit
Soil or dirt is intimately linked with the fate of humanity since the time immemorial. If there is no dirt there will be no human beings as our bodies are made up of the same five basic elements that the earth is made of. For a dispossessed people this link is even closer and more sacred. After all, who are we without the land and the dirt that we belong to?
Rigdol’s father died as a refugee in New York City without fulfilling his dream of going back to Tibet once, just once. This inspired the young artist to embark on this nearly impossible task, which took him seventeen months and countless headaches to complete.
kids playing with soil from Tibet
“We have to dream big,” Rigdol said. His dream has enabled over six thousand people in Dharamsala to play, touch, feel, step, roll on, eat and take away soil from our land. Old ones cried, the young ones were awestruck and the kids played with the soil all day long.
Though Rigdol’s art examines the plight of Tibetans in exile, it has a wider resonance, exploring the notion of nostalgia, the idea of homeland and how art is intertwined with the political and the social. "It also demonstrates the transgressive power of art as an act of defiance," Rigdol's press advisory said.

First Tibetan National Poetry Recitation Contest
When I was in Tibet, an old woman told epics of King Gesar and the stories lasted for two to three nights depending on the episode. I later learned that she could neither read nor write. Gesar’s epics are mostly written in verse, very grand and magnificent. Similarly, farmers and nomads sing endless songs on fields and in the mountains. The words of these songs are often lyrical and very poetic. From these, I came to the conclusion, that we are a very poetic people.
But it took the exile community over fifty years to organize this first Tibetan national poetry recitation contest. Shingtsa Rinpoche and Wokar website made this happen, which took them nearly a half year. Over 200 poets participated in the preliminary contests held at various Tibetan settlements in India.
The final competition, amongst the top eight poets, was held at the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts.
If dislocation, desperation, loneliness, love, longing and the endless struggle of being driven into exile can be boiled down to one single peak point, this was the summit. I think the fifty-year wait was worth my entire self in solid gold. Each poet recited his/her poem perfectly to the last teardrop, audience clapped, laughed and many cried.
The poems include calls for long-separated mothers, invocations for freedom, remembering a grandma’s last words or a sharp cry for a lover who refuses to answer. Words were rich, lines were tight and the emotions Himalaya high.
The prizes too were worth fighting for — first prize = Rs.60,000 ($1400), second prize = Rs.40,000 ($900) and the third prize = Rs.20,000 ($450).
When it was over, everyone was drunk, drunk with poetry.

The Tibetan Film Festival
We had film festivals here before, but this one was different. The festival, jointly organized by SFT-India and Filming for Tibet, only screened Tibetan-made films. This was fantastic. After all, if we don’t promote our creative artists, who will?
The festival screened as many nine super-short films made by amateur filmmakers. The audience participations involved voting for the viewer’s choice, which carried $200 prize money, as well as discussions on films and its impact on the community. Young filmmaker, Geleck Palsang, won both the viewer’s choice and the critique’s awards.
The festival peaked with screening of Sonthar Gyal’s award-winning film The Sun-Beaten Path. Read review here: http://phayul.com/news/article.aspx?c=8&t=1&id=30278&article=Under+the+Grey+Veil+-+The+Sun-Beaten+Path
The other interesting events took place here includes SFT–Camp, Mind and Life Conference with His Holiness the Dalai Lama and 100,000 Poets for Change.SFT camp is a training young activist in non-violent strategies and online security speaking of which Tibet Action Institute's website and videos are must: https://tibetaction.net/2011/11/17/safetravels-https/
These are some of the major ones. Of course, other things keep happening here, which I won’t mention here less you get jealous.
So, if you are struck in New York the whole year round travelling in the subway and not seeing the sky, or if you are in California basking in the sun all the time or in London experiencing rain most of the time, take a break and come to Dharamsala in October and November. Roads are bad but the sky blue, we don't have central heating but there are enough Tibetan sights, sounds and smells to keep you engaged. If you have enough time, we will try to have more of the historic events that I mentioned above.
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Tackling the Thuggish Beijing

November 28, 2011, 8:23 pm
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Hollywood actor and musician, Johnny Depp, was bullied everyday in school by a big fat boy. "Punch him in the face once and he will not bother you any more!" said his mother one day. Depp did just that and the rest, as he told a group of student at The Actor's Studio, was history.

International politics is incredibly more complex. But there may be a lesson to be learned from Johnny Depp's story, especially when dealing with the People's Republic of China.
Due to its lack of self-assuredness and multiple domestic crises, Beijing outwardly needs to act tough. This thuggish behaviour is currently being propped up by China's financial 'strength' — resulting from decades of unbridled economic growth — and is fuelled by the current global economic debacle. However, since the China's apparent tough outlook does not stem from inner strength, it actually may be far easier to face it head-on than many think.
Earlier this month, Beijing vehemently opposed and pressured Mongolia over its decision to invite the Dalai Lama to visit its capital city Ulan Bator. The small land-locked country, perhaps remembering its ancestral warriors, did not bow to China, which is its biggest trading partner. Mongolia even allowed the Nobel laureate to go ahead with his public talk at the 4000-seat Buyant-Ukhaa sports stadium built with Chinese money.
On 26 November, India refused Beijing's demand to stop a planned speech by the Dalai Lama at the World Buddhist Congregation in New Delhi on 30th of this month. "We have always opposed any country providing a platform for the Dalai Lama to engage in activities to split China in any form," said Hong Lei, the Chinese spokesperson, to a regular press conference. Enraged by India's decision, the Chinese have called off the 15th round of the talks between Special Representatives. The Communist Party, in the throes of a leadership transition, seems particularly nervous to have its State Councillor, Dai Bangguo, in Indian capital for the border talk at the same time as the Dalai Lama.
The Indian decision not only reflects its new-found confidence but also a calculated strategic step keeping its long-term interest in heart. "Beijing is upping the assertiveness towards all its neighbours. The Chinese are carefully testing the waters to see how far they can go," said G. Parthasarathy, a former Indian foreign secretary, to the Guardian newspaper. India is closely watching China's inroads into Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Nepal and Burma, and recognizes the importance of standing up to China. In this battle of Asian supremacy and geopolitical influence, India has the advantages of having strong democratic institutions such as the free media, an independent judiciary and the growing economy with strong fundamentals.
Mongolia's decision on the Dalai Lama's visit and the Indian resolution to let the Tibetan spiritual leader "to pursue his activities" —  and the Prime Minister Manmohan Singh's strong message to the Chinese Premier, Wen Jiabao, to keep off from South China Sea at the recently-concluded Asia-Pacific Conference —  show the world that capitulation to Beijing is not the only way.
However, China is relentless in its mission to restrict Tibet's spiritual leader. A few years ago, many attempts were made for the Dalai Lama to visit Indonesia. Nothing materialized. Later, it was learned that Beijing was funneling as much as a billion dollar into Indonesia to prevent the Nobel Laureate from obtaining a visa. This is no stray case.
In 2007, China demanded Belgium to cancel the Dalai Lama's long-planned visit to Brussels. In exchange, Beijing said that it would allow the Belgian trade mission headed by the crown prince into China. Belgium acquiesced. The Dalai Lama issued a statement: "The Belgian government shared with me their predicament on account of pressure from the People's Republic of China," and that he had "decided not to visit Brussels this time."
In fact, according to a study by Andreas Fuchs and Nils-Hendrik Klann, countries whose top leadership met with the Dalai Lama, have incurred an average 8.1 percent loss in exports to China in the two years following the meeting. Called the "Dalai Lama Effect," the study by the University of Gottingen in Germany found the negative impact on exports began when Hu Jintao took office in 2002.
If true, this is indeed a huge economic loss. But there are equal losses for China as well, which the one party rule does not allow the world to see. Moreover, temporary financial gains can and must not influence national policy and sovereign matters. Beijing may have already peaked its economic cycle and within a decade its financial train may run out of stream. In such an eventuality, any compromise on national policy now will have gone wasted.
Finally, from all accounts it seems that the Chinese leaders are pretty much like bad, angry and vulnerable dogs, the more you run away the more they are likely to bark and chase you.
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ལྷག་དཀར་གྱི་གཞས་གསུམ། Three Lhakar Songs

December 6, 2011, 8:06 am
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There are many Tibets today – the occupied Tibet, the Tibet in exile, the Tibet in our hearts, the Tibet in transition and the online Tibet. All these Tibets are with us everyday. But it is the online Tibet, where everything converges - our thoughts, images, words and music. In this virtual world we talk, chat, debate, discuss, argue, sing, cry, shout, boast, snitch, pretend, upload, download, like and dislike.

This is a limitless world. Last night, I nearly got lost enjoying one song after another, until my eyes went red and spines hurt. I just had to stop but not before I found these three essential Lhakar songs, which talk about being Tibetan, speaking Tibetan and being aware about the past glory and future path.


This first song is by beautiful Tsewang Lhamo, a member (?) of the famous Acha Tsendep band. Lhamo these days increasingly sings incredible solo Tibetan songs such as the one below with deep message. 

If you are in New York, Tsewang Lhamo will be performing at Columbia University. The concert will take place on the World Human Rights Day, 10 December 2011, as a part of the Third International Tibetan Language conference.  (All lyrics in English are my rough translation.)

Soul of the Tibetansབོད་མིའི་བླ་སྲོག
Song by Tsewang Lhamo 

Snow mountains are my soul
Blue rivers is my lifeline,
My name is the Land of Snow
I am Tibetan. I speak Tibetan.
I love Tibet’s spiritual inheritance
I love Tibet’s art and culture
My name is the Land of Dharma
I am Tibetan. I study Tibetan.
My name is the Tibetan Plateau
I am a Tibetan girl. I love Tibet.
My ancestors were a monkey and an ogress
I am Tibetan. I speak Tibetan.


This second song by Choephel, who hails from Meldro Gongkar a small town near Tibet’s capital Lhasa, is about the importance of speaking in pure Tibetan. The song has very strong lyrics, which speak directly to you. ཀ་ཁ་ག་ང་ས།- Ka Kha Ga Nga / the essence of my being / the survival of our people sings Choephel.
Reminderདྲན་སྐུལ།
Song by Choephel

I have a source of livelihood inherited from by ancestors
I have a path to follow shown by my ancestors
I have a pledge to keep from my ancestors
I have a hope placed on me by my people –
Tibetan is my language 
The unchanging sound of my tongue
ཀ་ཁ་ག་ང་ས། (Ka Kha Ga Nga)
Is the essence of my being
The survival of our people –
let us speak in Tibetan
Speak in unmixed Tibetan
You may know many other languages
But when speaking to another Tibetan
Please speak in Tibetan
Speak in unmixed Tibetan.
We have a rich language
But this disease of mixing other languages
Is spreading like a plague.
My dear people from the Land of Snow
Know that
The very survival of our race
Depend on our language.


The last song is by Choegon or popularly known as Little Kunga because he is the most well known student of the famous singer Kunga. This 15-year-old singing sensation, my friend Jigdal tells me, is also called the Tibetan Justin Bieber. On closer, you will see that Choegon looks far smarter than Bieber. I can definitely say: Bye Bieber! Hello Choegon!



Listen - ᫳མᨋ᪱ᩚᨕᨵᨋᩖ᪄

Song by Choegon or Little Kunga

This great path of the non-violence is 
Shown by our great septuagenarian grandfather,
Thus, if you are your father’s son
Listen! Do not ever forget this path from your heart.
This growing youth of the Tibetan language
If you realize its importance,
Listen! Please do not ever mix other languages with it.
This sixteen code of the moral conduct is
The legacy of our great forefathers
If you are a descendent of our great ancestors, 
Listen! Do not ever forget these ethics.
If you are a Tibetan
Protect, promote and advance
Our language, culture and spiritual traditions.


Now that you have heard three incredible songs about being Tibetan, speaking Tibetan and feeling Tibetan, make sure to speak proper Tibetan to your friends, and please avoid CRAZY sentences like these:
ཁ་སེང་འཇིགས་མེད་ཀྱིས་cheese cakeའཁྱེར་སླེབས་སོང་། ་དཔེ་tasty་འདུག
ང་ཚོ་busགཞོན་ནས་Bazaar ལ་འགྲོ་དང་།  
བློ་བཟང་table  set བྱས་ནས་ TV onགྱིས་དང་།
རིག་གྲོལ་དང་པདྨ་coupleརེད། ཁོ་གཉིས་love marriage བྱས་པ་རེད།
documentའདི་copyབྱས་ནས་ཁྱེར་ཤོག་དང་།
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Search

THINK ...

December 8, 2011, 9:56 pm
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Think ......  pause ...... a long pause


Think ..... pause ...... a long pause .......... a very long pause



Think ..... Think ....Think


until you are enveloped in black shadows
until all your knowledge disappears
until nothing is left your old self
until you see a white blank space



on which you can


rewrite ......... reinvest ........ recalculate
recalibrate ... rearrange .... reset
...

all

your

strategies


... comfort is a cancer that kills activism and creativity ...
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Youth, Power, Vision

December 13, 2011, 10:35 pm
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When I was in school, ma’ong sontsa rey ta (you are the future seeds) was one of the most frequently used phrases by our teachers when students misbehaved or didn’t study hard. As a result, I often had dreams of big fruits growing out of me some day.

As a grown up now working in the Tibetan community, I realize that my teachers were, perhaps, right at least on this account about us being seeds of future Tibet. Looking around Gangchen Kyishong, seat of the Central Tibetan Administration or popularly the Tibetan Government-in-Exile, I see young people everywhere – young men in smart suits and young women in beautiful chupas. Seeds have sprouted into healthy shoots.

Every time I witness this young crowd, I see power. I observe creativity. I feel energy and restlessness. They are like a gang of wild yaks wanting to climb Mount Everest. They are like a troop of stallions wanting to gallop across the wide expanse of the Tibetan Plateau. They are a nucleus of energy ready to be unleashed.
The average age of the Tibetan civil servants began to grow younger since the early 1990s when a large number of exiles started moving to the West. However, the administration has not been fully able to utilize the potential of its young workforce.

The struggle for freedom is not regular office work. Nor it is a source of livelihood. There is a grave danger of working for the exile government is being seen as a comfortable 9-to-5 exercise. Consequently, there is an urgent need for the young staff to be given a sense of purpose, a clear direction and the freedom to exercise their creativity. In this mission, the senior officials in the administration become essential. Their decades of experience and accumulated knowledge can guide the youth – to make them realize that Tibet is politically undergoing a life-and-death struggle, and that Tibetan language, culture and history are being systematically destroyed in Tibet. The elders who are culturally rooted, spiritually matured and historically aware about the past have the ability to link the younger generation to the struggle and inspire them an urgency in their work.

For inspiration, we do not have to look far. Students for a Free Tibet is an extraordinary driving force both in campaigning for a free Tibet and providing crucial training in activism and communication to emerging leaders. SFT has managed to do so because of its young leadership and their ability to harness youth power by providing platforms which are in tune with changing times, global circumstances and technology. If an NGO such as SFT – with its limited resources – can do such marvellous work, the Tibetan government certainly can.

The exile administration now has a new popularly-elected and highly modern-educated Prime Minister, who has unique historical responsibilities and equally unique opportunities to lead Tibet’s struggle towards freedom. Given the fact that the overwhelming majority of the people working for the exile administration are also young, modern-educated and speak multiple-languages, there are unlimited possibilities to achieve our goal. However, this can and must be achieved with the senior members of the administration providing the necessary bridge between the vision of the new Kashag and the creative power of the young and fresh minds.

At times it appears that the vastly experienced and selflessly dedicated senior administrators operate with strategies inherited from another time and circumstances. Hanging onto obsolete tools and accepted wisdom divorced from today’s reality are useless. This prevents us from taking advantage of new opportunities in the ever-changing global scenario.

Young public servants are motivated, technologically advanced and skilled in communication. Yet, I once heard someone remark, ‘Layjey sar pa detso computer la du tso mang po tro lak tang gi duk‘ (These young people waste so much time on their computers.) The world is increasing getting smaller and wireless with information flowing all the time. A failure to know of an event taking place in Tibet instantly can make a huge difference in our struggle. The world must be on our fingertips. And for a diaspora which is as disparate as ours, staying connected is imperative. A laptop is hence no longer a luxury. It is as essential as our kitchenware.

How nice it would be if the secretary of a department shares SMS jokes with young colleagues or goes out for a cup of tea with them after office to catch up with happenings on the ground.

Knowledge is power. So is communication. Creativity is an asset and youth the strength. The popular people’s revolution in the Middle East this year, which forced out one dictator after the other, took place because knowledge was powered by communication, which was driven by creativity, which in turn was engineered by the youth. Their principle medium was the social networks such as Facebook, Twitter, Youtube etc. The sheer number of young people and their quest for freedom turned the tide in favour of democracy, rule of law and justice to the oppressed.

India, Brazil and Indonesia are shining bright because their young populations. The exile Tibetan administration, with its overwhelming large number of young people, has a capacity to shine even brighter. Under the dynamic leadership of its young Prime Minister, supported by the experienced senior bureaucrats and the energy of the youthful workforce, there is no doubt that our struggle will be taken to the next level.

When this happens, my dream of big fruits growing out of my head for being one of the ma’ong sontsa will have been realized.

(Originally written for and published on the official blog of the Tibetan Government-in-Exile: http://tibet.net/ctablog/)
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Hu’s menacing dogs are they?

December 19, 2011, 5:40 am
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In 2009, Kunga Tsayang — the imprisoned writer and environmentalist — wrote a bold essay titled Who are the Real Separatists?“China Television, Lhasa TV and others, while ignoring the truth, have excessively branded all Tibetans as separatists. This has caused an incurable communal rift between the Chinese brothers and sisters and Tibetans, leading to the Chinese disliking the Tibetans…” was Tsayang’s prescient analysis. This has proved to be true many times over, the latest case being the unprovoked attack on Tibetan students in Chengdu, the capital of China’s Sichuan province.

Destroyed classroom
According to reports in China Digital Times, Qzone and Woeser’s blog, on 14 December over 3000 Chinese students from three large hostels of Chengdu’s Railroad Engineering School surrounded the 200 Tibetan students’ quarters and went on the attack. In the assault lasting the entire night, the Tibetans' dormitory and classrooms were destroyed. Many Tibetan students were seriously injured and taken to hospitals.


After the police failed to control the situation, over a thousand riot police armed with teargas were sent in to disperse the students. The incensed Chinese students even attacked and smashed the police vans and teachers’ cars.

No one is absolutely certain why the attack took place. But judging by the slogans that the Chinese students raised such as ‘Beat the Tibetans! Get more credit!’ a familiar pattern seems to be surfacing.

During the Cultural Revolution Mao let millions of students go berserk by commanding them to ‘Bombard the Headquarters!’, resulting in a decade of destruction and social disorder that nearly destroyed China as a nation. Years later China’s paramount leader, Deng Xiaoping, chanted ‘To Get Rich is Glorious’ and the masses followed Deng’s catchphrase leading to over thirty years of unbridled economic growth causing irreparable environmental damage and creating an unequal society in which the rich dine on multi-course banquets while the poor labour long hard for their daily bread. The orders of Mao and Deng were followed by more meaningless clichés such as Jiang Zemin’s ‘Three Represents’ and Hu Jintao’s ‘Harmonious Society’.

Over the last sixty years the Chinese people have been bombarded with barrage of daily dictates which regimented every aspect of their lives. Furthermore, official propaganda and misinformation —generally about China’s past in tune with communist ideals, and particularly on Tibet and the Tibetans — were fed to the masses. Consequently, Kunga Tsayang wrote that “... an image is built in the minds of both the Chinese people and Tibetan brothers and sisters of the 'other side' as someone who is to be scared of and to have hatred.” It is hence not surprising that Tibetans have been harassed and refused hotels when visiting China, especially after the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

The recent attack on Tibetan students at the Railroad Engineering School is the latest case in point. The driving force behind all this confrontational behaviours is Beijing’s policies to fuel ultra-nationalism devoid of history, culture and the lack of a larger global perspective. The creation of such intense but baseless nationalism is dangerous as it reinforces, writes Fran Dikotter, author of Mao's Great Famine, 'the portrayal of frontier countries, from Taiwan to Tibet, as "organic" parts of the sacred territory of the descendants of the Yellow Emperor [Huangdior the Yellow Emperor is a mythical figure who is hailed as the first ancestor of Han Chinese] that should be defended by military power if necessary.' However, Tibetans are certainly not the only ones to be at the receiving end of this Han chauvinistic nationalism.

The Flowers of War
Every now and then, Beijing has let the people to vent their anger against Japan for its past actions. A new film, TheFlowers of War, about the Japanese occupation of Nanjing in 1937, starring Hollywood actor Christian Bale is also a part ofthis dubious exercise.Critics say that the film, in which Beijing invested large sums of money, is little more than a calculated anti-Japanese propaganda film portraying them, according to TheWall Street Journal, ‘as monochrome monsters’.

Five years earlier, in 2007, an official communiqué after the 17th National Congress of the Communist Party of China stated that Hu Jintao had instructed all leading officials and party cadres to place ‘building a harmonious society’ at the top of their agenda. But China today is not only an inharmonious country but also a terribly low-trust society, where the rich are fleeing to the West and the poor are openly revolting against Beijing as illustrated by the on-going Wukan uprising in Guangdong province.

It is clear that neither the promoting of ultra-nationalism, nor doling out of yuan as is being done to Tibetan monks in Tibet, can sustain this unjust rule. Kelley Currie, a China specialist at the Project 2049 Institute, told The Diplomat that the present system has dug a hole for itself and that political reform is the only way out.

This bleak scenario, perhaps, is an opportunity for the Tibetans to renew their passion, recalibrate their strategies and be even more focussed in their struggle for a free Tibet. After all the Lebanese poet and painter Kahlil Gibran so movingly wrote ‘Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.'
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Lonely Trees in Dharamsala

January 1, 2012, 8:13 am
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Dharamsala these days is pretty much like bare trees in its cold December air. Shops are closed. Streets are empty - momo-sellers, no laphing-wallahs and even the regular beggars have disappeared.

Everyone has gone to Bodh Gaya for the Kalachakra 2012.

I found these tree...terribly lonely. The leaves have runaway with wind, hopefully not to Bodh Gaya.

(I took all the photos today.)
Leafless tree near Dept of Information and Intnl. Relations "It's cold. It's December and it's lonely," it said.
Bare trees in the Tsuglakhang courtyard waiting for His Holiness' return
Weeping willow in Gamru Village lopped of its branches
Everyone has left town including the leaves of this tree in Nechung Hostel, where only a few of us are left.









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Reports from Serta

February 2, 2012, 11:52 pm
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Serta Dzong in Kham, Eastern Tibet, has been a centre of Tibetan resistance since 2008. Peaceful protests have escalated in recent months amidst the Chinese authorities tightening control and increasingly violent crackdown. The events in late January testify that the Tibetan people’s struggle for freedom and dignity will go on even when faced with such brutal crackdown and systematic denial of the basic rights.


 Following is a direct translation of reports received by an exile Tibetan based in Dharamsala, the seat of the Tibetan Government-in-Exile.


[[On 16 January 2012, two monks – Tepa and Nyinang – from Shorok village in Serta Dzong peacefully protested in the street by raising slogans and throwing pamphlets. Tepa is 16 years old and Nyinang is around 21. They marched on the large playground in Serta shouting Lha Gyalo (Victory to the God!) and Long Live His Holiness the Dalai Lama. They also threw large number of paper prayer-flags in the air.

Immediately, the Chinese security personnel arrested them. However, the local people managed to get hold of the two young monks from the police van. Since then the number of police as well as armed security personnel have increased everywhere and the people’s freedom has been limited.

On 18 January, paper prayer-flags with Tibetan national flag at the back and various messages such as Long Live His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Victory to Tibet etc. were scattered all over Phu’u Yul in Serta Dzong. Yesterday was the day the Chinese people greeted the New Year with full smile and yet the suffering is increasing day-by-day for the Tibetan people.

On 22 January Dhonyoe Nyima from Upper Shol and Gendun Nyima from Lower Shol peacefully marched nearby the big playground in Serta shouting Bod Gyalo. Immediately they were arrested and tortured by the police. Dhonyo Nyima’s right hand was broken. Here is the photograph to prove the torture.
Likewise, in a street in Serta, an unknown youth has thrown a large number of pamphlets. Here is a copy of the leaflet.

On 23 a large number of Tibetans in Serta gathered on the large ground to protest against failed Chinese policies. A short video footage of the protest will be sent separately. It cannot be sent like the photos.

At around noon on Tuesday, 24 January, two people were shot dead in Serta Dzong. One was Popo and the other’s name cannot be confirmed. Popo was around 35-years-old. His mother’s name is Gedon and his elder son’s name is Kunsang.

Popo died immediately and the other person, who hailed from Serwa Yango, was seriously injured and may die any time. Another person from Sholthal village was shot six times and is seriously injured. Kunga from Kou-tsa was shot on the shoulder and another woman was shot through the thigh. 
Under the command of head of security personnel in Serta, the armed police have so far arrested over 40 people and others are banned even from going out of their houses.

Furthermore, another three Tibetans were shot dead in the afternoon of 24. Some say that this was not true. Others strongly confirm that two were shot dead before noon and three more in the afternoon. Another was shot dead in the evening. There were blood in the street corners from dead and wounded, and walls were poke marked with bullets. Those who witness the scene thought that many might have died.


 The main slogans being raised in Tibet these days are ‘Long Live Dalai Lama’ and ‘There is No Freedom in Tibet.’

On 23 January, one person was shot dead, another was seriously injured and 32 others were injured. Many more may have been injured but they remain unknown due to severe restriction imposed by the Chinese authorities.

On the third day of the brutal Chinese crackdown on Serta by the Chinese security forces, I have been trying to call as many friends and acquaintances as possible in Serta, but in vain. Throughout the day, I tried to call both Serta and Drago, but could not get any one on line. I am aware that Tibetan activists and Tibet supporters are waiting for news, but there is nothing other than worry and anxiety. 

However, it is not that one cannot get anyone. You can call the police station, government offices and other Chinese officials. Their lines were not cut off. I checked and called a couple government officials and they came on the line. But I put down the phone immediately and did not talk to them.

The phone lines of everyone else’s were cut and the hotels and restaurants were also ordered to be shut down.]]

Serta is now virtually cut off from the outside world. The arrests, torture and imprisonment are likely to follow in large numbers.
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Raise the warrior’s sword, my fellow Tibetans

March 11, 2012, 11:58 pm
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By Theurang or Tashi Rabten*
Translated from Tibetan by Bhuchung D. Sonam


Our courage is fading amidst stacks of religious texts
Our self-confidence is weakening under foreign occupation
My fellow Tibetans of the same blood and flesh
You are being drowned in tears of sorrow
And being bundle up in pain of agony

Today
Crossing the spine of history I enter into your chest
Staring at you, I write these words I want to convey

At a time when this generation, trapped in the leaves of heavy scripture
Is growing old chanting the six syllable mantra over and over again
When each of our ancient forts and ancestral pillars
Shake from inside amidst the growing whirlwinds

When you think about the lice and nits that suck your blood
Sunbathing on the slopes of Marpori
And this ancient land is turned restless and unlivable
Will this soil become a proud new Tibet or
A place where red hands shamelessly strike at their whim?

My fellow Tibetans, who are drowning in my teardrops,
Today a sharp thread is constricting your blood vessels
A book of crooked words is being thrust into your history
A red hand is digging into your chest
A black tongue is buying up your people
Buying them with sweets lies
Buying them with brute force

At a time
When our land is churned inside out in the name of development
When everything is being ordered from top down
When everything is subsumed in rules and regulations
Isn’t this the time
To exercise your fundamental rights
To assert control over your own life
Your consciousness
Your courage
Your wisdom

Utsangpa, your bones no longer have the smell of tsampa
Khampa, your minds are starved of any new thoughts
Amdowa, you are constantly busy in mutual disputes

Now is the time
To call upon the courage of our conquering ancestors
To raise their warriors’ swords
To invoke their martial spirit
To revisit their tombs and pillars

Now is the time
To rise up from the pool of pain
To raise the Snow Lion flag
Now is the time
For each warrior to stand tall
Like torrents of a waterfall
Like flames of fire
Now is the time for each of us
To do anything anytime anywhere

One year, ten years, one hundred years
After many years
From the Potala Square we hear tunes of Tsangyang Gyatso’s songs
We remember the courage of heroes dead from enemy bullets
We evoke the spirits of our lost mountains, lakes and grasslands
We recall those words written in blood
Again and again from the depth of our souls

Hatred, bitterness, pain, shackles,
From the abyss of flesh and bones
Two heavy words are asking a question
They demand an immediate answer
Like …
The US Declaration of Independence
The Hind Swaraj of India
The end of apartheid in South Africa

Courage, heroism, slavery, oppression.
Raise the warriors’ swords, my fellow Tibetans

          ***

* Theurang, author of Written in Blood and editor of Shar Dungri or Eastern Snow Mountain (a magazine banned by China), was sentenced to four years in prison on 2 June 2011 by the Chinese authorities in Ngaba, Amdo, northeastern Tibet.

Notes:
Marpori– literally ‘Red Hill’ on which the Potala Palace was built
Utsangpa– people from Central Tibet
Khampa– people from Kham, Eastern Tibet
Amdowa– people from Amdo, Northeastern Tibet
Tsampa– roasted barley flour, which is Tibet’s staple food
Hind Swaraj– self-rule in India


༄༅། །བཙན་པོའི་རལ་གྲི་ཐོགས་དང་བདག་གི་གདོང་དམར་པ།

བཀའ་བསྟན་གྱི་གླེགས་བམ་བར་ན་བཙན་པོའི་སྙིང་སྟོབས་བོར་ཞིང་
གཞན་དབང་གི་ལྕགས་སྒྲོག་བར་ན་ཁེར་ཚུགས་ཀྱི་སྤོབས་པ་ཞ་བའི་
སུས་ཀྱང་མིག་ཟུང་གི་མཆི་མར་བཤམས་པའི
ཀུན་གྱིས་ན་ཟུག་གི་གོང་བུར་བསྒྲིལ་བའི
བདག་གི་ཁ་བ་ཅན  ཤ་དར་ཁྲག་དར་གྱི་མི་རྣམས་ཡ

དེ་རིང་ ང་ལོ་རྒྱུས་ཀྱི་སྒལ་ཚིགས་སུ་བུད་དེ་ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་བྲང་ཁོག་སྔོག་གིན་ཡོད
དེ་རིང་ ང་ཁྱེད་ལ་ཅེར་ནས་བླ་སྲོག་གི་སྐད་ཆ་རེ་རེ་ཡེ་གེར་ཕབ་ཀྱིན་ཡོད

གླེགས་བམ་གྱི་ཚི་དྲེག་ཁུར་བའི་མི་རབས་ཤིག
ཡིག་དྲུག་གི་ཟློས་བརྗོད་བར་ན་གོ་མེད་ཚོར་མེད་དུ་རྒས་ལ་ཉེ་བའི་དུས་འདིར
གནའ་བོའི་ཕོ་བྲང་དང་མེས་པོའི་རྡོ་རིང་རེ་རེའང་
ནང་ལོག་ནས་ལྡིང་བའི་རླུང་འཚུབ་ཀྱིས་སྒུལ་གིན་པའི་དུས་འདིར

ཁྱེད་ལ་ཟ་འཁྲིག་སློང་གིན་པའི ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་ཟུངས་ཁྲག་འཇིབས་ཀྱིན་ཤིག་དང་སྲོ་མང་གི་ཚོགས་ཀྱང་
དམར་པོ་རིའི་ཐུ་འོག་ན་ཉི་མར་ལྡེས་འདུག་པར་བསམ་ན
ན་ཆུང་མའི་བྲང་གཞུང་འདྲ་བའི་འདོད་སྲེད་མི་འཇགས་པའི་ཕ་ས་འདི
གཏན་དུ ཐུ་བྷོད་ཅེས་པའི་གསར་བུ་ཞིག་གི་ང་རྒྱལ་གྱི་མགོ་བོ་འཇོག་ས་ཡིན་ནམ
ཡང་ན་ལག་པ་དམར་པོ་ཞིག་གི་ཧམ་སེམས་བསྲིངས་ས་ཡིན།

བདག་གི་མིག་ཆུའི་ཀློང་ན་སྐྱོམས་པའི་ཁ་བ་ཅན་གྱི་མྱི་རྣམས་ཡ
ད་ལྟ རྣོ་ལྕགས་ཀྱི་སྐུད་པ་ཞིག་ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་ཁྲག་རྩའི་སྦུབས་སུ་འཐེན་ཡོད
འཁྱོག་གཟུགས་ཀྱི་ཉིན་ཐོ་ཞིག་ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་ལོ་རྒྱུས་ཁྲོད་དུ་སྤར་ཡོད
ལག་པ་དམར་པོ་ཞིག་གིས་ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་བྲང་ཁོག་ལ་སྙབས་ཀྱིན་འདུག
ཁ་ལྕེ་ནག་པོ་ཞིག་གིས་ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་མི་སེར་ཚོ་བསླུ་བཞིན་འདུག
དབང་ཤེད་ཀྱིས་བསླུ་བཞིན་འདུག
གཡོ་ཟོལ་གྱིས་བསླུ་བཞིན་འདུག
ག་ས་གང་ན་འཛུགས་སྐྲུན་རྫུན་མས་འཚང་ཁ་རྒྱག་གིན་པའི་དུས་འདིར
ཐམས་ཅད་མྱི་ལག་གི་འཆར་གཞིར་གྱུར་ནས་ཡོད་པའི་དུས་འདིར
ཡོད་ཚད་ཁྲིམས་ལུགས་ཀྱིས་བཟོ་བཀོད་གནང་བའི་དུས་འདིར
དུས་འདིར ཁྱེད་ཀྱི་བླ་སྲོག་དང་རྣམ་ཤེས དཔའ་སྟོབས་དང་ཤེས་རབ་ཁོ་ན
ཁྱེད་གཅིག་པུར་དབང་ཆོག་ཆོག་གི་མཐའ་མཇུག་གི་གདམ་ཀ་མ་ཡིན་ནམ

རུས་རྐང་དུ་རྩམ་དྲི་བོར་བའི་དབུས་གཙང་པ་ཚོ
བསམ་བློར་མུ་གེ་ཐེབས་པའི་ཁམས་པ་བ་ཚོ
ཤན་འདན་ནང་འཁྲུག་གི་གཏམ་རྒྱུད་གྱེར་བའི་མདོ་སྨད་པ་རྣམས

ད་ནི རྟུལ་ཕོད་ཀྱི་དཔའ་དང་སྤོབས་པས་རྒྱལ་ཁམས་གནོན་པའི་རང་ཅག་གི་མེས་པོ་ཚོ
མེ་པོ་ཚོའི་རང་གྲིང་དང་དཔའ་སྙིང་ བང་སོ་དང་རྡོ་རིང་
རེ་རེ་བཞིན་དཔའ་སྤོབས་ཀྱིས་ཡར་ལ་བསླངས་རན་རེད

ད་ནི ན་ཟུག་གི་དུད་དུ་འཕག་འཚག་དང་
ཤ་འཁོན་གྱི་ཕྱིར་དུ་དར་ཆ་འཆང་རན་རེད
ད་ནི མི་སྐྱེས་དཔའ་བོའི་ཚོགས་དག་རེ་རེ་བཞིན
རྦབ་ཆུ་ལྟར མེ་འཔུང་ལྟར་འཕྱོ་རན་རེད།
ད་ནི ཅི་ཞིག་ནུས་ན་ཅི་ཡང་བྱེད་རན་ནོ

ལོ་གཅིག ལོ་བཅུ ལོ་བརྒྱ
ལོ་ཟླ་མང་པོ་ཞིག་གི་རྗེས་སུ
པོ་ཏ་ལའི་ཐང་ཆེན་ནས་ཚངས་དབྱངས་རྒྱ་མཚོའི་འགྲུལ་བཞུད་དྲན་གྱིན
ཤོར་ཟིན་པའི་རི་ཆུ་ནགས་གསུམ་གྱི་སྙིང་བཅུད་དྲན་གྱིན
ན་ཟུག་གིས་ཡང་ནས་ཡང་དུ་བཀླགས་མྱོང་བའི
ཁྲག་དམར་གྱིས་དུས་དང་དུས་སུ་བྲིས་མྱོང་བའི་ཡོག་འབྲུ་གཉིས་དྲན་འོང་
ཚེ་སྲོག་གི་གཏིང་མཐའ་ནས་དྲན་འོང

ཞེ་སྡང ཤ་འཁོན ན་ཟུག ལྕགས་སྒྲོག
བདག་གི་ཤ་གསེང་རུས་རྐང་ན
ལྗིད་ཏིག་ཏིག་གི་ཡིག་འབྲུ་གཉིས་ཀྱིས་ཚ་འདྲི་སློང་གིན་འདུག
ཨ་རིའི་རང་བཙན་བསྒྲགས་གཏམ་འདྲ་བའི
ཧིན་རྡིའི་རང་སྲིད་རང་སྐྱོང་ལྟ་བུའི
ད་དུང་ཧྥེ་གླིང་གི་མི་ནག་བཅིངས་གྲོལ་ལྟ་བུའི
ཡིག་འབྲུ་གཉིས་ཀྱིས་ཚ་འདྲི་སློང་གིན་འདུག
རྟུལ་ཕོད དཔའ་མཛངས བྲན་གཡོག གཉའ་གནོན
ཀྱེ་ཀྱེ བཙན་པོའི་རལ་གྲི་ཐོགས་དང་བདག་གི་གདོང་དམར་བ།
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Have you seen a yak?

March 20, 2012, 9:22 pm
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གཡག Yak
My name is Tenzin
I am Tibetan
I was born in South India
On a hot July day in 1984
When my mother was still weak from labour –
Our neighbour Mr Malickarjun
Broke a coconut for luck
His wife brought a garland of jasmine.
Mother even now calls me Tenzin Jasmine.

My father, Yeshi Phuntsok, died
Three months after my birth
He was on his way to Ludhiana
To buy sweaters for the winter business -
‘He fell down the shaft between train and platform’
My mother told me years later.
She took a long sigh
‘He was suffering from TB,
He didn’t have to go.
Your father was stubborn as yak hide
He listened to no one,' she said.

My grandfather, Dorjee Gyalpo
Is my favourite person in the world.
He was born in Chu Marlep in Northeastern Tibet –
That wide expanse of grassland
Where the famous Tibetan horses come from.
Grandpa told me about yaks.
How he rode them across the mountain passes
འབྲི། Dri - female counterpart of YAK
How his mother weaved their tents from yak hair
How their mastiffs barked at the menacing wolves.
'A yak can easily take on an elephant,' he said.

My name is Tenzin
I am Tibetan
I have never seen a yak
But I have a pretty good idea
How it looks.
Long rough hair hanging down
Black horns very sharp at the tips
Hooves as tough as cannonballs.
A yak can eat a truckload of grass.

My name is Tenzin
I am Tibetan
I love coconuts
Especially ones that grow in our backyard
My grandfather hates them
‘Its juice looks like donkey's piss,’ he would say.
He loves to eat meat

Once we went to Hot Yak Café
Located in Yalakudam Street.
It claims to serve yak meat thenthuk
And yak-cheese cakes
‘Yak cheese?’
Grandpa wouldn’t stop laughing.
Acha Tsedon, the owner came and asked,
‘Pola, garey nang song?’ Grandpa wiped the tears from his eyes
‘Can I a have a glass of ox milk?’
He burst out laughing again
Buried his face in the menu
Written in English, Tibetan, Kannada
‘Wozi, Pola nyo yin pa da!’ Acha Tsedon said
She stomped back into the kitchen, upset.

My name is Tenzin
I was in Hot Yak Café
With my grandpa who couldn’t stop laughing –
I elbowed him in the stomach
‘Pola, stop laughing
Everyone's staring at us’
Suddenly he posed dead serious
‘I want a plate of yaksha momo’ he said.
When Acha Tsedon served the momo
Grandpa asked her to sit down —
‘Yak is male. Dri is female.
Dri gives milk. You give milk.
I don’t give milk. Neither does a yak.
No yak milk. No yak cheese.
I am old. You are young.
Yak is big. Dri is small.’

My name is Tenzin
I am Tibetan
I have never seen a yak
But I have a pretty good idea
How it looks.

Have you seen a yak?
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Search

'...the day has come to sacrifice your life'

March 27, 2012, 8:07 am
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(This is my translation of the last written words of Pawo Jampel Yeshi, who has sadly passed away from burns at Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital, New Delhi.)







  16March2012
1
Long Live His Holiness the Dalai Lama, who is the shining example of world peace. We must strive to ensure return of His Holiness to Tibet. I pray and believe that the Tibetan people in and outside Tibet will be united and sing the Tibetan national anthem in front of the Potala Palace.
2
My fellow Tibetans, when we think about our future happiness and path, we need loyalty. It is the life-soul of a people. It is the spirit to find truth. It is the guide leading to happiness. My fellow Tibetans, if you want equality and happiness as the rest of the world, you must hold onto this word 'LOYALTY' towards your country. Loyalty is the wisdom to know truth from falsehood. You must work hard in all your endeavours, big or small.
3
Freedom is the basis of happiness for all living beings. Without freedom, six million Tibetans are like a butter lamp in the wind, without direction. My fellow Tibetans from Three Provinces, it is clear to us all that if we unitedly put our strength together, there will be result. So, don't be disheartened.
4
What I want to convey here is the concern of the six million Tibetans. At a time when we are making our final move toward our goal – if you have money, it is the time to spend it; if you are educated it is the time to produce results; if you have control over your life, I think the day has come to sacrifice your life. The fact that Tibetan people are setting themselves on fire in this 21st century is to let the world know about their suffering, and to tell the world about the denial of basic human rights. If you have any empathy, stand up for the Tibetan people.
5
We demand freedom to practice our religion and culture. We demand freedom to use our language. We demand the same right as other people living elsewhere in the world. People of the world, stand up for Tibet. Tibet belongs to Tibetans. Victory to Tibet!

signed: Tawu Jampel Yeshi
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Lang Dharma told me

April 11, 2012, 10:32 am
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"I was his brother, Ralpachen's brother
Born of the same flesh and blood.
He who is one of the Three Great Dharma Kings,
He who followed what the other two believed
He who spread what the other two brought in.
And I, his brother, had a different view.
I believed in what we had,
A set of philosophy born out of our land
A set of tenet as good, if not better.
And I loved my country, oh I did.
I was as human as anyone in our land
I was smart as any of the Dharma Kings
I had no horns poking from my head
I had no tail hanging from behind.
But he killed me with a shot of an arrow
That monk called Lhalung Paldor
Who wore long black robes
Who rode a mighty black stallion
Who came in a flash of light
Who ran away across the river
Who turned white after crossing.
He now adorns your history books.
And I became the infidel, enemy of the dharma,
Misjudged by history as the misfit king.
But I loved my country, oh I did.
I wasn't as bad as your history books say
But that fratricidal maniac monk killed me.
For what?
The history has answered --
One hundred years of chaos
A fragmented nation
The end of the warrior's bloodline.
My dream for tomorrow was erased.
My vision for the future mismanaged.
My name debased to a condescending metaphor.
I watched all these happened from where I am now.
And I am tired of endless blunders
That rape and wreck the people I love.
But I can tell you one thing for sure --
I was the last king of Tibet.
I was killed in 842.
The king is dead.
There are no more kings.
You are all tsampa-eaters of equal standing."
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Last Words of Tamding Thar

June 18, 2012, 10:27 pm
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These were the last words of Tamding Thar:


''བླ་མ་ཡི་དམ་དཀོན་མཆོག་གསུམ་ལ་སྐྱབས་སུ་མཆིའོ།
འཛམ་གླིང་ལ་ཞི་བདེ་ཡོང་བའི་རེ་བ་དང་།
 ༸རྒྱལ་དབང་རིན་པོ་ཆེ་རང་ཡུལ་དུ་ཕེབས་པའི་རེ་འདུན།

བོད་རྒྱལ་ཁབ་ཀྱིས་རང་ས་ཟིན་པའི་དོན་དུ་རང་ལུས་མེ་མཆོད་དུ་འབུལ་རྒྱུ་ཡིན།”


'I take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha.
I am setting myself on fire as an offering of light
with hope that His Holiness the Dalai will return to Tibet,
that peace will prevail on earth and that
Tibet will be ruled by Tibetans.'

On 16 June 2012, Tamding Thar, an elderly Tibetan in his 50s, set himself on fire in front of Chinese People's Armed Police office in Chentsa, Amdo, Northeastern Tibet, to protest against China's rule over Tibet. Since 2009 as many as 40 Tibetans have set themselves on fire to demand freedom in Tibet, the return of His Holiness the Dalai Lama  and to end communist rule in Tibet.

































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Article 6

June 24, 2012, 11:10 pm
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Monsoon Reading List

Here are six books that I thoroughly enjoyed reading and also made me think, act and frame myself differently. Hope that you will enjoy them during the monsoon as you spend more time indoor hiding from the rain.

TIBET: A History by Sam Vam Schaik, a scholar on  ancient Tibetan history and Buddhism, is a narrative history of Tibet. This is an easy-to-read, balanced and detailed history of Tibet starting from around seventh century to the present.  



















Volumes have been written on Mao, but this one by Jonathan Spence, arguably the finest historian on China, is  a balanced book grounded on up-to-date research.
The Joys and Sorrows of Nagtsang Boy is  an epic title about China's occupation of Tibet and its Great Leap Forward, a mammoth failed campaign and their impact on Tibet. Told through the eyes of eight-year-old Nulo, this is arguably the finest first-hand Tibetan testimony that can stand up to any of China's best 'scar literature'.
Ju Kalsang's poetry collection གངས་གྲོང་གི་རླུང་བུ། was published under 21st Century Tibetan Writers Series. This is a gem of a collection with of range his poetry written from 1980s to the present. 
At a time when the line between propaganda and advertisement blurs with both throwing super-saturated photographs before our eyes, we need new dreams, new visions and new concept. Ben Ogri's A Time for New Dreams shows us ways to think afresh and anew boldly.
'No doubt you will ask - / Hold on - but hold on to what?' .... asks Lhasang Tsering in his new collection of poetry. He answers the question for you 'Well, you can hold on to yourself; / You can hold on to your goals and your purpose / You can hold on to what you believe...'

That's all for the moment. If you find interesting titles that you think others should read, please let me know so that I can share them here.

Enjoy monsoon! Enjoy reading!
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YAK HORNS

July 10, 2012, 7:34 am
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'Bhuchung D. Sonam articulates the voice of a new generation of Tibetans in exile – voiceless and stateless – longing for a space to call home. He eloquently describes the hopes and aspirations of young Tibetans. He is perhaps one of the very best spokespeople
for the youth of his generation.'
Tsering Shakya, author of Dragon in the Land of Snow


Backcover:
Tibet has been written about, commented on and described by travellers, ‘experts’ and scholars for centuries – each presenting their own version of reality. This title brings together a collection of essays on contemporary Tibetan arts and social issues, expressed through the eyes of a Tibetan writer
in exile who experienced and lived through
many of the events narrated here. 


YAK HORNS
Notes on Contemporary Tibetan Writing, Music, Film and Politics


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