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Published: October 26th 2009
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“Does he arrive in a car or in a tuk-tuk?,” I ask the lady next to me. She is a western-looking lady with a French accent, but her native Tibetan dress and her Tibetan friends (one of whom they refer to as her “new husband”) tells me that she has been in Mcleod Ganj for a while and, therefore, I suppose this qualifies her to be my unofficial guide to the Dalai Lama’s homecoming. “A car,” she answers. I inquire further, “Does the Dalai Lama drive?” This question makes her smile a little and she replies, “Oh, no, he have a driver.” I suppose it was a dumb question. It stands to reason that one of the most famous people in the world--a living holy figure and leader of a nation--would have a driver.
I wonder where the Dalai Lama has been. The local newspapers have run anti-US headlines proclaiming that the Dalai Lama had just visited the US, but had not met fellow Nobel Peace Prize winner Barak Obama. As if hearing my thoughts, the lady next to me offers, “I think he was in America and Europe, maybe.” I nod in acknowledgement and say, “I bet he’s tired”
before adding, “long flight.” She responds with, “He is a busy world traveler,” astutely distilling the hectic job of the Dalai Lama into a single statement.
The Dalai Lama is anything but prompt. There had been murmurings among the masses of people lining the street that His Holiness the Dalai Lama would arrive at 9:30am, but 9:30am comes and goes without sighting. As we wait, I note the festive nature of Mcleod Ganj--colorful banners and flags are strategically hung along the street, children are dressed in their finest clothing, and there isn’t a single piece of litter in view. I pass the time photographing--without any real effort at stealth--the eager monks.
I haven’t been able to get a good picture of a monk yet. As I click away--relentlessly trying to capture the adolescent amusement of a young monk as he plays with the smoking incense between his fingers--I realize that the monks here are always on the move. I scan my memory for a sedentary monk and can’t conjure up an single image. Consistent with these thoughts on monk movement, I begin to note their footware. Most of the younger monks sport Chaco sandals (just like the pair
I am wearing), Keens (just like everyone in Seattle), and Tevas (just like everyone in Colorado in the 1990s). The older monks seem to go with the more traditional--but, honestly, less practical in hilly Mcleod Ganj--loafers. This trend actually appears to extend to most of the local people surrounding me. The Tibetan lady to my right is adorned in a heavy white embroidered long-sleeved shirt, a black sash, a full-length wool skirt,…and city-slicker, baby-pink Pumas. A scan of the other visible locals confirms this: Nikes, Sketchers, and Adidas.
Finally, after two hours of waiting, the Dalai Lama arrives. His arrival is only announced by the excited shuffling of people and the sound of six tightly-spaced cars careening around the bumpy mountain road. The guy next to me extols, “He will be in the second car” and we both stand on tip-toe to see him. He speeds by. I catch a glimpse of his waving arm, but Pierce--who is perched a few feet uphill from me--snaps a great photo of the Dalai Lama. In the picture, he looks just as you’d expect. He sits in the front passenger seat of his car (with a driver as promised), hunched slightly forward,
waving, and graciously smiling at this fans. It’s perfect and my heart swells just a little as I review the picture in the LCD screen and think with a smile, ‘how’s that for a celebrity sighting?’
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teri
non-member comment
way cool in India!
You have made the trip so truely interesting and you won't have to verbalize so much post trip. Where is Pierce's photo of Dali Lama?