Perusing my hard drive for some writing samples today, I stumbled upon this blog post, which must have been written in March or April of 2012. I'm shocked, a) by how well it's written and b) that I never posted it.
It's quite serendipitous that I discovered it now seeing how I'm knee-deep in a Fulbright fellowship application that will (if I'm lucky) take me back to Dharamsala to write about the Tibetan refugee community. This was a really nice reminder of my connection to that place and some excellent motivation to try my hardest on this application. Fingers crossed!
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Family Time in Dharamsala
I am thoroughly enjoying the return
to routine here in Dharamsala, though of course the routine is a bit unconventional.
We have been splitting our time between our host families’ homes and three
hotel rooms in town where we keep our luggage, take showers, and reconnect with
each other. Breakfast and dinner are eaten at “home” and the afternoons are
spent in class or doing schoolwork in one of the many WiFi enabled cafes around
town. It’s a weird system, but then again nothing on PacRim is normal.
Despite all the running around, this
place has given me a sense of belonging unlike that of many of our previous
temporary homes. Maybe its something about adjusting my internal clock to the
daylight hours – waking up around 7am and crawling into bed, exhausted, no
later than 10pm – that just feels good. Or maybe it’s the knowledge that
someone is awaiting my arrival at the end of the day, curious about my
experiences and interested in sharing theirs. Whatever it is, I am so grateful
for the chance to make ties here and feel a little more connected to my
surroundings.
Anna and I were lucky enough to
have been paired with a family that’s “totally our style” as we like to say.
They’ve shared their home with plenty of students before us, so they know the
drill. But even beyond that they seem to have the same understanding of life’s
transience that we on PacRim have become so accustomed to. They are the epitome
of “go with the flow,” not fazed by our consecutive bouts of stomach flu,
always ready and willing to offer help in any way they can, and more than happy
to fit us into their daily routine. They have the best kind of generosity – not
stifling or superficial, but genuine and relaxed; it is as though we are
visiting old family friends. We are given a considerable amount of
independence, but the degree to which we are cared for, and cared about, is
never in question. I can’t help but think that a family with a similar attitude
would be hard to find back home.
Also telling is their attitude
toward the increasingly tense political situation in Tibet and amongst the displaced
Tibetans abroad. Rather than resorting to dogmatism or negativity, they have an
unyieldingly confident and practical attitude toward their situation. It is as
though they know what needs to be done to achieve peace in Tibet, and are just
doing their part and calmly awaiting the outcome. When I asked my host mother
about whether or not she had ever considered gaining Indian citizenship, she
replied with a calm face and a slight shake of the head, “No. I’m going back to
Tibet.”
Her blasé attitude proved to be
quite misleading at times, most memorably on March 9th, the day
before Tibet’s National Uprising Day, when Anna and I followed Amala to the
temple, completely unaware that His Holiness the Dalai Lama was in attendance
that day. The unusually tight security and overwhelming crowd should have
tipped us off, but unfortunately they didn’t. We remained completely oblivious
until the moment we were ushered through a narrow pathway of people to a space in
front of His Holiness’s throne where we quickly bowed our heads and tried to
catch our breath. And Amala hadn’t said a word all morning! I take it as
nothing but a reflection of her wisdom and respect for the way things are.
There is no need to make a fuss in her mind. Things will happen as they happen,
“step by step, one by one” as she always says.
I am left wishing there was more I
could do to express my gratitude for everything they’ve done for me and for my
experience in Dharamsala. It reminds me of a passage from one of my favorite
books, The Alchemist, which has
proven relevant to my experience on PacRim time and time again. After leaving
the comfort and routine of his home for the first time, the main character
comes to a realization about the nature of his relationships with those he
meets:
There was a language in the world
that everyone understood…It was the language of enthusiasm, of things
accomplished with love and purpose, and as part of a search for something believed
in and desired.
I’ve never known this to be truer
than after my homestay experience. Despite the language barrier my family and I,
their generosity and constant kindness spoke volumes, and inspired me to be
selfless in just the same way. On top of that, their ceaseless faith and
devotion to their nation said more about them and their Tibetan heritage than
any book or class ever could have. I have to believe that by this same token, I
was able to express my gratitude, appreciation and respect for them as well.
