I am smiling widely at the commotions happening in the kitchen downstairs. For three months I have been spending the two hours between yoga classes here. I am in a beautiful Tibetan cafe, which is very simple, very quiete and which shows great documentaries about Tibet every evening.
The owners of this beautiful Tibetan are a couple from Amdo, which is a province in north eastern Tibet. Due to its proximity to China, Amdo now has a greater percentage of ethnic Han Chinese than Tibetans. As a result of continuous discrimination against the Tibetans (such as lower wages and the forced resettlement of the nomads) a large percentage of the population of Mcleod Ganj are from Amdo province. The couple who own this cafe are successful in their new home in exile. Mr Cafe is the deputy director of the Norbulingka Institute, which is a fantastic institute dedicated to the preservation of Tibetan arts and crafts in exile. This explains why the decor of the Tibetan cafe is beautiful; with intricately carved low tables which are hand painted in red and gold. Mrs Cafe spends her days baking bread, cakes and supervising the lively staff. Her family still live in Tibet. They are nomads so it is very difficult for her to contact them directly, especially after China's crack down on communications between Tibetans in Tibet and the Outside World. I often wonder what a parallel life she is leading to the one which she would have lived had she remained a nomad?
After spending so much time here, I now serve myself and whenever I can, I loiter in the kitchen trying to learn more about the 'average' life of a Tibetan refugee my own age which leads to why I am smiling widely at the commotions happening in the kitchen.
In the kitchen there are three Tibetan men (all of whom work here) dressing up a fourth younger man (the newest recruit to the staff) in a traditional Tibetan chuba (coat). I will call the newest recruit 'Tashi' as this is the only greeting we can share, with my Tibetan being limited to two words and his exposure to English speaking tourists a recent event. Even so whenever I come into the kitchen and say 'Tashi Delek' (equal to 'Good Luck' or 'fortune') he finds it very funny. Although we can't communicate directly through words, 'Tashi' humours me when I try to explain scuba diving through sign language alone (usually I mimic putting in the regulator and then jumping up on down on the kitchen floor and then swimming in the air.)
I watch as they all fuss around Tashi, who stands in his old trainers and extra long jeans, while they try to arrange the massive chuba. The chuba is enormous, but that is how they are designed. “It is very cold in Tibet” I am told. They are all enjoying the fancy dress party, unconcerned about the waiting food orders, as if this traditional garment from their country is a relic from the past. Then again, I have only seen one Tibetan man wear a chuba here in Little Lhasa. I watch as each of my new Tibetan friends try to rearrange a different part of the chuba, as it is wrapped around Tashi. A big bright red blanket is produced which is then wrapped around his waist in order to tie the chuba shut. Tashi then removes his right arm leaving one enormous sleeve dangling near the kitchen floor. I ask why the Tibetan men never put both arms through their massive coat sleeves? I am given two answers. The first comes with a cheeky smile and ends with “it's fashion” and the second is “because it is difficult to work with the arm inside”. I keep pushing the question, wondering why the coat with sleeves twice the length of the arm is designed and then not used. Finally, I am told, “because then they can tie a bag around their back with the long sleeve, and if they need both arms they can tied the sleeves together, and if they wear both arms it stops any cold from coming inside”!
Tashi is also enjoying the fancy dress party. He watches as he is dressed by men who he only met a few months ago. Tashi has only recently arrived, and although he is also from Amdo he didn't know his colleagues before arriving. In the back ground Tibetan pop music is playing. I am told that is is “very modern music from Tibet bu not as modern as very modern Indian music”. And when they say 'Tibet' they mean Tibetans who are still living inside Tibet. And it is this continuous 'fight' to preserve what is 'Tibetan' which is so impressed upon the Tibetans living in India. The Tibetan shops are crammed full with ancient Buddhist relics: singing bowls, bells, beautiful silk mandalas – which at one time would have only been made with powder and usually destroyed (to return to the dust from where it came) after it had been used for the specific meditation or ceremony. Stalls sell the newest music of 'Tibetan Chants' and the shop windows are lined with books revealing the 'Secret Visions of the 5th Dalia Lama'. There is a chain of schools called the 'Tibetan Children's Village (TCV)' where Tibetan children from all over the world can come to 'learn' about their culture. They study in Tibetan, learn Tibetan arts and crafts and learn from real 'Tibetan' teachers alongside other 'Tibetan' children. In Dharamasala there are two of these schools: One is for day pupils whose parents live in exile, and a boarding school for children of refugees who live outside of this Little Lhasa. There are also many Tibetan children from Tibet – whose parents have made the sacrifice to provide the Tibetan education which ironically is not available inside Tibet and as a result have sent their children into exile. These children live all year round at the school. They will grow up 'Tibetan' in India. Meanwhile, Tibetan food continues to line the streets, sold by mothers wearing the traditional Tibetan dress and adorned in malas, while their daughters wear hip hugging jeans and makeup. I suppose that this is what happens when a culture is not able to 'modernise' naturally and an identity is threatened. In the case of Tibet there seems to be three dimensions of this ancient culture which was closed to the outside world for so long. The Tibet which China is trying to control and 'modernise', and the two Tibet's here in India: the parallel world from a memory which both the old and young are trying to preserve and protect and even to reinvent.
Meanwhile, downstairs, the chuba has been removed, and the men continue to bake banana chocolate cakes for their customers, and thick Thupka soup for themselves. The modern Tibetan music changes to James Blunt, and I think once again how I need to pay more attention to the present than the past or the future. So I continue to flick between writing this, reading the Indian newspaper written in English and watching a monk play with his new shiny mobile phone...
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