in the land of the dalai lama

Just the name was evocative, alluring, calling me to explore, experience. Mcleodganj. It was the perfect place for my 1st solo travel venture. It was pretty much most of what I expected it to be, charming, peaceful, suspended somewhere between a bohemian dream and a regular touristy hillstation destination.

No, I did not meet the Dalai Lama. But his presence does permeate all aspects of life there. For a race of people who had been evicted from their own land, they are amazingly Zen like. Though there is the underlying sadness at their statelessness and anger against the Chinese, a veneer of calmness and happiness pervades; an acceptance of the way things are, with a quiet resilience of a hopeful future. The Tibetan way of life is still their way of life. And they try hard to keep it alive.

A few things struck me that encapsulate the place, its people, its culture .

The museum/library with photographs of the Dalai Lama and other Tibetan monks flight to exile;
a film festival that had short stories/documentaries of the diaspora Tibetan;
an open music jamming session of Tibetan musicians and Israeli backpackers,
the hauntingly beautiful Tibetan song that a housekeeping staff was singing to herself as she went about just wiping tables;
 a shiva temple next to a beautiful river with the actual lingam in a small cave in the middle of the river,
 a charming, british-time church in the middle of the woods,
small cafes where one could just sit/read/ have good food,

the calm matter-of-fact tone in which a guide at the institute told me that there might not be another Dalai Lama after the current Lama passes away, because the Chinese had abducted the next chosen incarnate!! 

For me, this was not just a trip, it was an awakening of a number of facets...travel, life.