As a reminder, my camera is on the blink, so for good pictures and a video of the road and scenery between the Leh Valley and the Nubra Valley, go to www.yogeshsarkar.com/trips/ladakh05. Click on Day 1 for the beginning of his motorcycle ride in delhi, then skip down to Day 2-9 for the rest. There is a video after Day 9.
The Dalai Lama spoke for three days in Diskit, one of several villages in the Nubra Valley, about 120 km north of Leh. Now that you’ve looked at the pictures of the area on that guy’s website, pictures of Tibetan Buddhist monestaries (gompas), and have no doubt seen many pictures of His Holiness, you can imagine for yourself all of it at once. Diskit, with a population of about a thousand, is one of several villages in the Nubra Valley. There are two gompas there, both pretty modest, now freshly painted for the occasion and festooned with bright orange and yellow awnings, tassles and flags. One, where H. H. spoke the third day, has quarters for about 100 monks, picturesquely tiered up a ridge just above the temple itself. Both temples are small. The one looking toward the valley and the peaks beyond, where he spoke the first two days, is only about 10 by 10 meters in size. The other, facing north up the valley, is a little larger. Both are on wide platforms. Up there sat the high lamas and other dignitaries. At the first gompa, there is a flat area about 5 ft. below the platform. About half of that was covered by about 20 parachutes, the kind the rural folk (and Beatrice and I used) use as tents. They provided much appreciated shade for many of us. The second gompa had no such shelter, but it wasn’t so warm that day, anyway. Of course, under the awning and and against the front of the entrance to the temple was the high, ornate seat from where the Kundun, “the Presence”, sat cross legged and spoke. Without any pictures, you’ll just have to imagine the appearance of this spectacle, in this setting, with the valley floor a little below and the peaks 10,000 MORE feet above, rising dramatically as a backdrop. It was definitely not like seeing him at the auditorium in a major city.
In many ways, it was a very professional production. I’d say about 2000 people were at each talk, certainly about everybody who lives in the Nubra Valley, plus about 100 westerners and Indians. He spoke in Tibetan. In the center of the gathering, behind a couple hundred monks, were the Tibetans and Ladakhis. There were translations over the loudspeakers in Ladakhi, English and Hindi. The loudest loudspeaker was for the Ladakhi translations, as there were, by far, mostly Ladakhis there. Stage right was a small group of Hindi speakers who had a speaker for them, and stage right were the English speakers. If you weren’t near enough to the speaker with the English translation to hear over the Ladakhi translation, the English translation was broadcast over an FM frequency. Sales in town of $5 FM radioes was brisk. First H. H. would speak, then he’d wait while the translations went out.
The assemblage itself was a spectacle. The diversity was astounding, even by American standards. There were nomads in their only clothes. Ladakhis were dressed in everything from western dress to their traditional everyday and special occasion garb. Tibetans dress like Tibetans, their best dress being a long brown robe and a colorful sash. There were people in Hindustani garb like saris and kameeses. The westerners, well, we were what we are. Some are regular, like me (WHOA), some are real straight. Some are hippies cum sadhu wannabees. Some are pure tourist in their tank tops and no bra, wobbling up to the platform to get a picture. Others are dashing international adventurer somethingerothers. Everybody has a camera. Many of the locals, and some of the foreigners, were very reverent, prostrating, praying and such. Some westerners were following what he’s saying in Tibetan. Sometimess the locals were chatting right in the middle of what he was saying. Strangely enough, it didn’t seem so irreverent. The westerners are mostly trying to hear and figure out what the ceremonial parts are about, and getting their pictures.
Above this millieu was the picture of a presentation by the Dalai Lama you might expect. He arrived the first two days from the side, announced by those long curled horns you’ve seen in pictures and on TV, and attended by several monks in full lama dress, big hats and all, and a security detail. I can only assume what is under their brown robes. He himself walks in under an orange umbrella, waving, placing his hands together in prayer position, bowing, and smiling that wonderful smile. Everyone is standing. When he climbs to his podium, everyone sits, except those doing prostrations still. Before he gets there, the monks are doing their tuva chants and other prayers. Sometime during the talk there is a break for more praying.
He doesn’t move that well anymore, you can tell when he climbs stairs, but his voice is still rich and strong. It’s rather baritone. When he appears, everyone over two years old is quiet. Even the tank top types chomp their gum a little circumspection. Especially at first, all eyes are on him. The most movement is the locals spinning their prayer wheels and fingering their prayer beads. Well, there is the squirming of westerners unused to sitting on the ground cross legged or at least with only enough room to sit cross legged. As the talks went on, people loosened up a bit. At intervals, tea and bread is handed out by people mingling among the crowd. People started to talk some while waiting for their translations.
Sometimes he was just talking. This wasn’t the talk he gives in western big cities. This was three days of dharma sermon. Most of it would be familiar to those who have read Buddhist material. By the end of the second day, he was pretty far out there with Tibetan mysticism and cosmology. He may have tied it up okay, but it was really hard to hear and understand the translations. I think they could get a better translater, to tell you the truth. Anyway, for me that wasn’t the point. I can read. I feel priveleged to have gotten to sit at his feet, maybe a hundred feet away. I am definitely NOT the only one in that crowd to have felt that way.
The third day, at the other monastery, it was more laid back. He didn’t enter with such regalia. The horns announced he was coming, but otherwise you wouldn’t have noticed. He sat facing his throne and prayed silently facing the Buddha statue in the chamber behind while some young monks acted out the sufferings of mankind. The imagery was clear. Here are the people below, fighting, being sick and dying, while the LIving Buddha prays for the benefit of all sentient beings. That third day there were several ceremonies and everyone was allowed to take the boddhisatva vow of compassion to also work for the benefit of all sentient beings. It was humbling, that’s all I can say. He’s just one of those inspirational guys, even if he is no longer God-King, even in the eyes of an audience who 50 years ago would not have dared to look him in the face. Some, it should be noted, still can’t look.
H. H. is coming to Leh in three days. I was going to stay here two days then go to Manali, a miserable but pretty two day bus ride from here. But there is no bus to Manali on Sundays, so I’m going tomorrow because there are no rooms in town after tomorrow night. I drove through there last year and it seemed to be another depressing tourist ghetto. If it still doesn’t work for me, I’ll move on somewhere. There is a nearby village called Vasicht that isn’t supposed to be as bad. We’ll see. I know I’m a little tired of Leh. A different tourist ghetto would be at least different. A couple of South Africans I was hanging out with in the evenings after the teachings in Diskit say it isn’t raining much there.
Be well, all of you.