Dateline Dharamshala

Dance floor spiritualityIt was a mad scramble to reach Dharamshala after the strange and sudden arrival of the 17th Karmapa. There was no ...

Dance floor spirituality
It was a mad scramble to reach Dharamshala after the strange and sudden arrival of the 17th Karmapa. There was no time to even collect one8217;s thoughts or research his background. When we reached Dharamshala, it was past midnight. As we drove through the ghostly, shuttered market in the main town, it made good sense to drive the extra 12 km to the Tibetan township of Mcleodganj and camp there for the night.

Driving up its narrow lanes, we spied a fancy hotel called Surya Resorts with marble flooring and black plate glass windows. The road outside was cluttered with fancy press cars and impressive looking television equipment. Most of the national and international media was obviously camped there. Purely for that reason, I decided to give it a go-by and we drove further to the simple but quaint Himachal Tourism hotel.

As we alighted from our humble Ambassador, we were surprised to hear loud English music blaring out of the staid hotel. Groups of trendy young Tibetans wererushing in, dressed in their Saturday best. As we stepped into the foyer, the receptionist informed us that one of their halls had been booked for a dance party. A lanky Tibetan youth sat at a table outside the entrance, collecting money from everyone before they went in.

After checking in, we decided to come down and get a few young Tibetan reactions to the Karmapa8217;s arrival in their town. Our entry was initially barred by the vigilant youth sitting guard outside. quot;Give money,quot; he said. We gave him the magical quot;we8217;re from the pressquot; spiel. As usual it worked. A tough gum-chewing Tibetan ushered us inside with alacrity.

Inside the hall, the air was thick with dope-induced smoke 8212; a motley crowd of Indians, foreigners and Tibetans were swaying giddily to foot-tapping music. I accosted a burly leather-jacketed, pony-tailed Tibetan who seemed to be the master of ceremonies and asked him to step outside. quot;So how do you feel about the Karmapa8217;s arrival here?quot; I queried. All the way on the journey I had beenimagining that it would be a defining moment in Dharamshala. The usual journalistic cliches about quot;a symbolic victory against Beijingquot; were spinning through my brain. So I was sadly disappointed by the response. My 28-year-old interviewee shrugged carelessly, quot;Yes, we heard on TV that he has come. Actually we were all born in India, we don8217;t know our history very well. All we know about him is that he8217;s a holy man. I guess we8217;re happy.quot; He noticed my shocked expression and added apologetically, quot;You know I studied in a Catholic school. Why don8217;t you speak to someone in the Tibetan Department of Education?quot;

I buttonholed another guy who was hurriedly making his way inside the hall. He answered just as casually: quot;Look, we8217;ve heard he8217;s here, but it hasn8217;t been declared officially. It8217;s too early for a reaction. Anyway at this time of the year half the Tibetans from here are away selling sweaters.quot; A fleece-jacketed Indian dandy butted in: quot;You know, I8217;m half-Tibetan. I8217;ve lived here all my life. I even speakTibetan. But forget about the Karmapa. We want to freak out. Why don8217;t you join us?quot; I gracefully declined.

Well, let me give this one last shot, I thought. quot;What8217;s the first thing you8217;ll do when the Karmapa8217;s arrival is declared?quot; I asked in typical TV interviewer mode. There was a spontaneous chorus: quot;We8217;ll have a wild party.

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Hope he8217;ll be here for the Tibetan New Year too.quot; quot;Why, how will you celebrate it?quot; I asked, with visions of solemn prayer ceremonies flitting through my mind. Again the answer came straight and swift: quot;We8217;ll have dance parties for three days.quot; quot;No prayers?quot; A swaying youth re-plied in a Yankee accent, quot;Aw c8217;mon, I guess we8217;ll have some prayers on the first day.quot;

The next moment there was a drunken brawl in the foyer, between the lad outside and a doped youth who wanted to enter without paying. Amid strains of the old hit quot;Oh Susannahquot; I beat a hasty exit.