When it Rains in Dharamsala

I’ve arrived in Dharamsala! “Land of the Mahayana,” as one monk fondly referred to it. It is the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. It’s as I remember it from three years ago.  With some new construction, new businesses, but largely as before, though I had not seen it in monsoon season. It’s warm but wet everywhere. Sheets of rain whip through during different times of the day. Honking cars with foggy windows (how can drivers possibly see?) ford overflowing water which rushes down the narrow hilly roads like a bowling ball follows a gutter. Shopkeepers and street vendors shuffle their wares in and out of shelter.  Pedestrians dodge canyon-sized potholes and sludgy puddles. I’ve been drenched twice while foolishly attempting to get to my next destination with a measly umbrella that may as well be one of those toothpick paper ones you get as a decoration on a cocktail. The rain just soaks everything, and wet clothes take days to dry.  Now I know what Tibetan poet Tenzin Tsundue means when he writes, “When it rains in Dharamsala/raindrops wear boxing gloves/thousands of them/come crashing down and beat my room.”

In fact, I read that Dharamsala area is one of the wettest monsoon places in India. Residents here tell me stories about how this season defies your attempts at staying mold-free. Electronic equipment, beware of condensation. A photographer friend told me he has to store his cameras in a small closet where he keeps a light shining for warmth and dryness.

I’m also told that monsoon will end in about two weeks. How do we know? The sun is beginning to shine more in between the rain bouts, and the fog lifts for some sneak previews of the beautiful vistas here in the foothills of the Himalayas.

No rest for the weary here, as I prepare for my trip to the higher altitudes. And I am weary, believe me, still getting over jetlag, and overjoyed when I can sleep for more than four hours and wake up when it’s dawn instead of the dark of night!

I arrived just in time for the second day of the Dalai Lama’s three-day teachings at Namgyal Monastery—nice way to begin! His Holiness looks as warm and jolly as ever. The temples and mezzanine areas have been outfitted with large flat screen TVs and speakers for translations.  For security reasons, all electronic equipment is banned and one must check in these items at a designated counter. This includes even small items like USB sticks and earphones. It used to be that you could bring in transistor radios and headphones to tune into the channel that translated in your language. After being issued my ID pass to attend the teachings, I passed security and found my way to the Kalachakra temple where English-speakers are directed.

The Dalai Lama was seated in the adjacent main temple, and from my spot in the rear kitty-corner, I could see him faintly through a glass window, albeit distorted from the reflection of ambient light. I marveled that I was once again in this temple where I had previously filmed Yamantaka ritual three years ago, as monks generously served butter tea with the morning breakfast of Tibetan bread (like a large English muffin). Yes, they actually cook and serve this to all the masses of people who come for the teachings, picking their way through everyone seated knee-to-knee on the floor, pouring tea from large steaming metal kettles and handing out bread from buckets.

Aside from attending the teachings, I have also been delivering letters of introduction, and meeting with Tibetan administrators, advisor, and a Geshe. This is a Buddhist scholarly title roughly the equivalent of the PhD title of Doctor, although it takes many more years of study to earn. Geshe-la shared with me some of his critical and historical knowledge of the areas I’ll be visiting as well as the images I’ll see.  I’ve now acquired my letters of support from various Tibetan offices for my research.  I will bring these with me to monasteries of the Himalayas seeking permission to photograph. These last few days have also been filled with meeting old friends and new ones over meals, tea, and even movie screening of Escape from Tibet one night, followed by discussion.

Tomorrow I leave bright and early for Manali, en route to Spiti. Today’s agenda is to pack, buy katas which are offering scarves, food for the road, pick up my internet stick and hope that it might work in the high altitudes. I am told, good luck! Spiti may sometimes lack electricity even for charging your electronic devices. Fingers crossed that I can keep my camera charged to be able to document monasteries and murals! J, my travel companion and longtime resident of India, has arranged for a meeting with Khandro-la, an exceptional female Buddhist practitioner, so we must hightail it to Manali and arrive before she leaves for her next teaching engagement.