Spirituality
IN THE PRESENCE OF HIS HOLINESS
A Reporter's Meeting with the Dalai Lama
Makes for a Memorable Experience
DHARAMSALA, India
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THE DALAI LAMA opened the Leatherman tool partway, examining the Portland-made, all-in-one gadget.
I moved to help him with our gift, assuming he hadn't seen one before. But he waved me off. He turned the tool over, discovering the tiny blade-lock-release levers promoted by the salesman as Leatherman's latest improvement.
"Oh," said His Holiness. "This is something new."
In Tibet and beyond, Buddhists and others hold the Dalai Lama in awe for his religious standing, his spiritual insights, his political savvy and his charisma. Those lucky enough to meet him in occasional group audiences often become tongue-tied in his presence.
A conversation with the Dalai Lama is an experience of a lifetime, an event memorable as much for the feeling of his presence as for his words. You don't have to be Buddhist to sense the depth and substance of this figure, who easily could have faded into obscurity after settling as a refugee near this remote Indian town four decades ago.
Yet this Dalai Lama says he prefers being regarded as a regular Buddhist monk, a mechanically minded man who enjoys repairing watches and tending his garden, someone who knows his simple pleasures and his tools. This is a man who listens intently to questions, who has learned from incognito conversations with unsuspecting farmers. He long ago dispensed with age-old traditions such as sitting on elevated chairs during private audiences.
"I usually describe myself as a spokesman for Tibetan people, Spokesman," he said. "I insist that all the work should be carried out by our office as if there's no Dalai Lama."
Journalists asking to interview the Dalai Lama, and others seeking audiences, contact the gatekeeper: Tenzin N. Taklha, a deputy secretary. A tall, engaging young man who has heard the full range of stories from would-be visitors, Taklha is a trusted nephew who sifts piles of requests for his uncle's time.
The job is stressful despite the inspiring company. He must be constantly on guard against admitting the wrong person. A photo of the Dalai Lama with Shoko Asahara, the Japanese cult leader, came back to haunt the Tibetan exile movement after Asahara's followers gassed the Tokyo subways.
The day before the interview, Taklha, wearing a black corduroy suit and crisp blue-striped shirt, introduced me to Tenzin Geyche Tethong, the Dalai Lama's personal secretary. Tethong, a kindly, professorial man in a blue plaid shirt and gray wool vest, pulled up a chair next to the cozy warmth of a wood-burning stove in the Dalai Lama's compound.
The two aides reviewed all the interview questions, not trying to tone them down as normal publicists might, but adding fresh context and suggesting ways to sharpen points. Above all, they seemed to want me to engage their boss and make the conversation interesting, instead of asking the same tired questions. |
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Journalists often arrive bleary-eyed from trips halfway around the world. Photographer Roger Jensen and I flew overnight from Seattle via Tokyo to Malaysia. Then we caught another overnight flight via Chennai, India, to New Delhi. Then we rode north by overnight train. Finally, we bounced through an alarming four-hour drive up hairpin curves to McLeod Gunj, a village in upper Dharamsala |
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On the day of the interview, we bought white silk scarves from a street merchant to present to the Dalai Lama, following Buddhist tradition. A vaguely familiar Western man, noticing our suits and gifts, smiled and wished us well.
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"Do you know who that was?" asked a Tibetan government official. "Adam Yauch, of the Beastie Boys." The rock star, one of a constellation of Western celebrities passing through Dharamsala, promotes the Tibetan cause.
In a driveway lined with potted marigolds, we watched the Dalai Lama receive two dozen Buddhists on a pilgrimage from Ladakh, India. His Holiness came across as a demanding teacher, grilling disciples mortified by the attention.
"What's your name?" the Dalai Lama asked an old man, who gaped at him as if struck dumb. "Ha, ha, a man with no name.
"Do you know how to read these texts that you're holding?" he asked the group. A monk stepped forward, bowing and stammering.
"Forget the monk," the Dalai Lama said. "Are you studying Tibetan? Do you need a teacher?
"Buddhism is very important. Very precious. In order to know about Buddhism, you should know Tibetan."
We presented our scarves and gifts from Portland and began the conversation in a spacious audience room decorated with Tibetan tapestries. The Dalai Lama spoke earnestly, gesturing and laughing often, his brown eyes twinkling below bushy, bobbing eyebrows.
When he misplaced an English word, the two Tenzins quickly supplied it, with Tethong often anticipating the entire sentence. We broke through the agreed 45-minute limit and kept talking for more than an hour and a quarter.
The interview closed with a resounding belly laugh. The Dalai Lama would drape us in white scarves he had blessed. But before he did so, he inscribed a copy of his latest book:
"Happiness forever," the Dalai Lama wrote in Tibetan. "From Tenzin Gyatso, |
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1935: Born July 6 to a farming family in northeast Tibet. 1937: Identified as the reincarnated Dalai Lama after recognizing a rosary that had belonged to his predecessor and responding correctly to questions from a search party. 1939: Travels three months to Lhasa, Tibet's capital, with his family. 1940: Enthroned and installed as spiritual leader of Tibet. 1950: Installed as head of state after about 80,000 Chinese soldiers enter Tibet. 1954: Seeks peace during meetings in Beijing with Mao Tse-tung and other Chinese leaders. 1959: Escapes to India, followed by 80,000 refugees, after Beijing cracks down on Tibetan demonstrators. Granted political asylum by India. 1960: Settles near Dharamsala, India. 1987: Proposes a peace plan for Tibetan autonomy. 1989: Receives the Nobel Peace Prize.
Richard Read covers international affairs |
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By RICHARD READ
