I had an extraordinary encounter on Sunday. I went to Boudha the location of the largest Buddhist Stupa in the world and one of the most sacred sights (outside Tibet) for Tibetan Buddhists. It is the scene of a daily culture clash as tourists pour in jostling for position with the many pilgrims who also visit.
A surprisingly narrow gate by the roadside takes you through a row of buildings behind which the stupa stands. It is a fantastic sight. The central area is brilliant white, rising slowly up a series of giant steps until the dome of the stupa rises. At the top of that 13 golden steps climb to a point. All around there are prayer flags. Vivid reminders that this not just for tourists. But in fact no reminder is necessary: the constant stream of the faithful walking clockwise, the chants of monks, and the rattle of prayer wheels is already reminder enough.
The pilgrims themselves are a colourful sight. Red robed monks, Sherpas with their rainbow aprons, Tibetan Khampas with enormous knives and scarlet tassels, Bhutanese in gorgeous brocade jackets (looking slightly stern with their close cropped hair), and rosy cheeked Tibetan women- a melee of the faithful all fighting for position on the prayer wheels.
I had begun a slow wander around the base of the stupa. Pausing occasionally at a shop to consider a souvenir, trying to avoid the “tour guides” who plague anyone who stops for too long, taking an occasional photograph- being a tourist.
I heard a cry of ‘Tashi Delek’ from a nearby monk. This Tibetan greeting is more common here than the Nepali ‘Namaste’ so I was hardly surprised. We began to talk. When he heard that I was a lawyer he became quietly insistent that I should sit with him and talk longer. His Nepali was a little better that mine, but still not great, so between us we made do with a mixture of Nepali, English, and occasional words of Tibetan.
It emerged that he had arrived only about two weeks ago, a refugee, now making his way from Nepal to India so that he could ‘with his own eyes’ finally see the Dalai Lama. Throughout our conversation he smiled constantly, smiled as he showed me the scars of the beatings he had received, smiled as he talked of his monastery, and smiled as he told me of the hardships of his journey. The message was simple- desperately sad as he was at all that had happened now he was looking to the future. He was a wonderful companion to pass some time with. Perhaps the best reminder possible that Boudha does not just exist for the tourists.
As I left he removed a strand of ribbon from his wrist and handed it to me. This, he explained, had been blessed by a Lama when he went to Mount Kailash (probably the most sacred sight for Tibbetan Buddhists that there is- they believe that walking around it with the right mindset removes all of your life’s sins). He wanted me to have it to wear as a token of our meeting. He only asked that as I did, I told people what had happened in his country. I suppose that this post is my way of doing just that.
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