by Thupten N Chakrishar
Multitude of glittery houses and crowds of colorful people
But I find none of my own and I am tired.
My eyes are restless, to find you somewhere, they keep looking.
Lost and empty; heart of yours, I can feel you cry in loneliness
My heart is heavy too, as I could hear you sing;
Come to where you belong, where your own awaits.
Hundreds of cars zap across through me, so do people
As I stand still with closed eyes, alone, while passers-by push me
But I stand strong, as I feel the wind, which brings me your fragrance.
The roads maybe paved with gold, and they are wide and long
But every next corner, I wish I could reach you.
Asking for directions, I often hear you; come back to where you belong.
No matter where I go, I’ll return
How far can I go? Your voice pulls me back
All paths lead to you, so I promise, I’ll return.
While editing Tenzin Kunsel’s first music video [1] and listening to its lyrics carefully, I felt very uncomfortable. In the song “Phayul Dren Lu”, the feeling of being away from home and missing one’s mother is strongly expressed. This is a common feeling among us exiles. The desperate call of Tibet, our mother can be felt in the heart of Tibetans in exile and the wish to return, no matter how far we reach.
12 year old Kunsel’s beautiful voice and her versatile singing have captivated the attention of thousands of music lovers. Realizing that even her generation of Tibetans has not lost their Tibetan-ness makes me feel so proud.
Tibetans of my generation were mostly born in exile. Though most of us have never been there, the strong emotional attachment is evident. We’ve settled far and wide but we’re not welcome in our own home.
Once we had a country and we thought it fair,
Look in the atlas and you’ll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.
– WH Auden
It always takes a bit longer for me than others to fill up forms; I always get stuck at the point where I have to write my nationality. With much thought I write Tibetan but end up writing ‘stateless’ along with it.
It hurts but I know this is nothing compared to what Tibetans in Tibet go through. Here I am scribbling my feelings in the luxury of this coffee shop while another Tibetan might be getting arrested in Tibet, and there you are reading my thoughts in the comfort of your home or office while yet another Tibetan might be getting tortured in prison or even executed.
Hearing Tenying’s innocent appeal to Tibetans in exile and her warm sisterly consolation to Tibetans in Tibet on SFT TV [2] , I pondered how a simple message can make a huge difference and bring comfort to those who are suffering.
Everyday is yet another weight of burden to the obligations and responsibilities we have. Every minute is critical for the Tibetan who has been sentenced to death for raising his voice for us. We don’t want to feel guilty of not doing enough for those who don’t have a voice in Tibet and look towards us.
After decades in exile, today there are doctors, engineers and pilots among us. We have activists and supporters, websites and radios, newspapers and magazines, speeches and listeners. The only thing that we don’t have is the Time. My sister would often tell me that today is yesterday’s tomorrow. The 2008 Beijing Olympics is a once in a lifetime opportunity for us to draw global attention to China’s illegal occupation of Tibet. [3]
I feel it’s very important for all Tibetans, Tibetan NGOs, Tibet support groups to pool in their energy in this one fight, leaving any differences behind and forgetting any ideological disparity. There is no limit to our achievements as long as we don’t care to whom the credit goes. I remember a story from my childhood when a father summoned his sons and gave them a bundle of sticks tied together with a cord to break. They could not break the bundle.
This write-up came to my mind after I felt an extreme sense of loneliness and helplessness while coming back in the train today. I was in the midst of people of different nationalities – Polish, Russian, Irish, Japanese and Chinese, all of whom have countries they can go back to. A drop of tear, almost invisible, trickled down my cheeks as I asked myself, when can I return home?
At home, Bullets and bombs overshadowed the sound of tranquility
Screams of girls being raped and men tortured to death
Often echoes in my mind, so do the words of Thupten Ngodup [4] on fire.
My fist shakes with anger, but I see the prayers beads on my wrist.
The picture of Jampa Tenzin [5] makes me furious, the Dalai Lama calms me down
Wiping the tear-drop, I walk off the train and move slowly towards my mundane life, I paused after few steps and turned back to look at the passing train. I smiled to the people inside the train, a farewell as they disappeared.
Then I looked around and found myself alone in the dimly lit platform and my heart asked the question again; when can I return home?
Thupten N Chakrishar can be reached at vajradog@gmail.com
[1] Tenzin Kunsel’s first music video is online at () to learn how you can get involved.
[4] Thupten Ngodup self-immolated in April 1998 in India as a protest against the lack of International attention to the plight and suffering of Tibet.
[5] Jampa Tenzin rescued prisoners from a burning police station in Lhasa which led to his subsequent capture, torture and death.
