In Exile From the Land of Snows (68 page)

JA: When you crossed the Kyichu River to rendezvous with the Khampa guerrillas, did you assume leadership? Who, for instance, made the decisions on your flight?

DL: As soon as we left Lhasa, we set up an inner group, a committee to discuss each point. Myself and eight other people.

JA: Was it your idea to make it unanimous?

DL: Yes. Those who were left behind in Lhasa also established a People’s Committee. Something like a revolutionary council. Of course, from the Chinese viewpoint, this was a counterrevolutionary committee. Chosen by the people, you see, within a few days.… They set up that committee and all major decisions were made by it. I also sent a letter to that committee, certifying it. In our small committee, those who were escaping with me, we discussed the practical points each night. We would sit together and discuss, but not always. Originally, our plan was to establish our headquarters in southern Tibet, as you know. In my book, I discussed
these things. Also, I mentioned to Pandit Nehru—I think on 24 April 1959—that we had established a Tibetan temporary government, shifted from Lhasa to southern Tibet. I mentioned this casually to the prime minister. He was slightly agitated. (laughter) “We are not going to recognize your government,” he said. Although this government had been formed while still inside Tibet, and I was already in India.…

JA: I’d like to ask about your identity as the incarnation of the Bodhisattva of Infinite Compassion, Avalokiteshvara. How do you personally feel about it? Do you have an unequivocal view one way or another?

DL: It is difficult for me to say definitely. Unless I engaged in a meditative effort, such as following my life back breath by breath, I couldn’t say exactly. We believe that there are four types of rebirth. One, which is the common type, wherein a being is helpless to determine his or her rebirth but only incarnates in dependence on the nature of past actions. The opposite is that of an entirely enlightened Buddha who simply manifests a physical form to help others. In this case, it is clear that the person is a Buddha. A third is one who due to past spiritual attainment can choose, or at least influence, the place and situation of rebirth. The fourth is called a blessed manifestation. In this the person is blessed beyond his normal capacity to perform helpful functions, such as teaching religion. For this last type of birth, the person’s wishes in previous lives to help others must have been very strong. They then obtain such empowerment. Though some seem more likely than others, I cannot definitely say which I am.

JA: How, then, do you feel about the practical aspects of your position? Only a few people in history have been considered divine. Is the role a burden or a delight?

DL: It is very helpful. Through this role I can be of great benefit to people. For this reason I like it; I’m at home with it. It’s clear that it is very helpful to people, and that I have the karmic relationship to be in this role. Also, it is clear that there is a karmic relationship with the Tibetan people in particular. Now you see, you may consider that under the circumstances, I am very lucky. However, behind the word
luck
, there are actual causes or reasons. There is the karmic force of my ability to assume this role as well as the force of my wish to do so. In regard to this, there is a statement in the great Shantideva’s
Engaging in the Bodhisattva Deeds
that says, “As long as space exists, and as long as there are migrators in cyclic existence, may I remain—removing their suffering.” I have that wish in this lifetime, and I know I had that wish in past lifetimes.

JA: With such a vast goal as your motivation, how do you deal with personal limitations?

DL: Again, as it says in Shantideva, “If the blessed Buddha cannot please all sentient beings, then how could I?” Even an enlightened being, with limitless knowledge and power and the wish to save all others from suffering, cannot eliminate the individual karma of each being.

JA: Is this what keeps you from being overwhelmed by the suffering of the six million Tibetans?

DL: My motivation is directed toward all sentient beings. There is no question, though, that on a second level, I am directed toward helping Tibetans. If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it’s not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.

JA: A lot of people say this but few can really live by it. Did you always feel this way, or did you have to learn it?

DL: It is developed from inner practice. From a broader perspective, there will always be suffering. On one level, you are bound to meet with the effects of the unfavorable actions you yourself have previously committed in either body, speech, or mind. Then also, your very own nature is that of suffering. There’s not just one factor figuring into my attitude but many different ones. From the point of view of the actual entity producing the suffering, as I have said, if it is fixable, then there is no need to worry. If not, there is no benefit to worry. From the point of view of the cause, suffering is based on past unfavorable actions accumulated by oneself and no other. These karmas are not wasted. They will bear their fruit. One will not meet with the effects of actions that one has not done oneself. Finally, from the viewpoint of the nature of suffering itself, the aggregates of the mind and body have as their actual nature, suffering. They serve as a basis for suffering. As long as you have them you are susceptible to suffering. From a deep point of view, while we don’t have our independence and are living in someone else’s country, we have a certain type of suffering, but when we return to Tibet and gain our independence, then there will be other types of suffering. So, this is just the way it is. You might think that I’m pessimistic, but I am not. This is the Buddhist realism. This is how, through Buddhist teaching and advice, we handle situations. When fifty thousand people in the Shakya clan were killed one day, Shakyamuni Buddha, their clansman, didn’t suffer at all. He was leaning against a tree, and he was saying, “I am a little sad today because fifty thousand of my clansmen were killed.” But he, himself, remained unaffected. Like that, you see. (laughter) This was the cause and effect of their own karma. There was nothing he could do about it. These sorts of thoughts make me stronger, more active. It is not at all a
case of losing one’s strength of mind or will in the face of the pervasive nature of suffering.

JA: When you experience happy feelings, how do you stay detached?

DL: From the point of giving up one’s household or home, as a monk does, many limits are set on your life and behavior. These automatically give one contentment. It depends on your attitude. If you have a disposition that wants more, then when you go into a store, you’ll want everything there or even everything in all stores. But if your attitude is to want just what is needed, then none of it is needed.

JA: I’m interested in what you do to relax: gardening and fixing watches
.

DL: Oh, my hobbies. Passing time. (laughter) When I can repair something, it gives me real satisfaction. I began dismantling things when I was young because I was curious about how certain machines functioned. I wanted to know what was inside the motor, but these days I only try to fix something when it breaks.

JA: And gardening?

DL: Gardening in Dharamsala is almost a hopeless thing. No matter how hard you work, the monsoon comes and destroys everything. You know, a monk’s life is very gratifying; very happy. You can see this from those who have given up the robes. They definitely know the value of monkhood. Many have told me how complicated and difficult life is without it. With a pretty wife and children you might be happy for some time. In the long run, though, many problems naturally come about. Half of your independence—your freedom—is lost. If there is some benefit or meaning to experiencing the trouble that arises on giving up your independence, then it is worthwhile. If it is an effective situation that helps people, then it is good. The trouble becomes worthwhile. But if it isn’t, it is not worthwhile.

JA: But none of us would even he here discussing this unless we had mothers and fathers!

DL: I’m not saying that having children is bad, or that everyone should be a monk. Impossible, (laughter) I think that if one’s life is simple, contentment has to come. Simplicity is extremely important for happiness. Having few desires, feeling satisfied with what you have, is very vital. There are four causes that help produce a superior being. Satisfaction with whatever food you get. Satisfaction with rags for clothing, or acceptance of any covering—not wishing for fancy or colorful attire. Satisfaction with just enough shelter to protect yourself from the elements. And finally, an intense delight in abandoning faulty states of mind and in cultivating helpful ones in meditation.

JA: Could you describe current conditions in Tibet, as far as you are aware of them?

DL: Each day the labor period is ten or twelve hours, sometimes fourteen. Therefore, the Tibetans say there are only three things to see. In the morning you see the stars, during the day the locks on the houses, and at night, returning from work, the moon. After work they must remain another two or three hours at political meetings, accusing one another and engaging in so-called class struggle—forced by the Chinese to create problems. From school-going age to the age of seventy, eighty, ninety, people must work. Recently, a Tibetan from Dharamsala secretly went to his native home in western Tibet. According to him, when he came to visit his own mother, who was about seventy, she had no time to see him. “Why don’t you take a few days off so that we can be together?” he asked. His mother replied that she couldn’t because she would lose work points. Without points, she would not eat. Where his mother was working, he also saw people in their eighties and nineties working. This is so the Chinese can take grain for many different purposes.

JA: In terms of the overall environment, how much restriction is there on freedom of speech?

DL: To speak out in public is very difficult. Though there is some leniency nowadays, many Tibetans feel that this recent liberalization is another trick, like the One Hundred Flowers Movement. At that time, everywhere, including Tibet, the Chinese government encouraged people
to express their own thoughts. Actually, this was just a means on the part of the government to discover who the so-called main reactionaries were. During the short period it lasted, they marked down the names of everyone who spoke up. Then the movement concluded, and under the name of another popular movement or policy, they gathered up all the people they had identified. That is their practice. So you see, freedom of speech is very strict, limited. Recently, there have been quite a number of posters put up in Lhasa. The extent of liberalization that is now taking place in China, though, has not come to Tibet.

JA: Is the country very much an armed camp? After thirty years, is it still occupied by Chinese troops?

DL: Practically wherever there is a Tibetan population, there also is a big Chinese military camp. In the border area, it is understandable to have large military camps, but inside, if things were quite normal, then why would it be necessary to station large numbers of soldiers everywhere? In Lhasa alone, the Han military and civilian population is more than the Tibetan population.

JA: Is there a large prison system? Are there many political prisoners?

DL: Yes. Near Lhasa, northeast of the city, there is one large prison camp which right now has at least two thousand fresh prisoners. They come from a remote part of Tibet and were arrested as a result of having taken part in a revolt, an uprising. Most of these prisoners are young people. According to one very recent source of information, the torture and hardship being carried out on the Tibetans in that camp is so great that the people who have told us this find it difficult to talk about. It is too upsetting. This is just one camp. In other places there are still prisoners.

JA: What is your knowledge of the Tibetan underground? Is it constituted in separate movements?

DL: Among the youth, the underground and nationalistic feeling is quite strong. It is really remarkable. It seems that there are organizations; but in terms of numbers and this sort of thing, it is hard to say, and also there is not much value in doing so. Actual physical resistance, fighting, is quite rare. It is too difficult. As I mentioned, the Chinese fully control the country. However, they are always moving about in groups or convoys because of the danger of Tibetans attacking them. Occasionally, there is sabotage.

Now I will tell you about food. Animal husbandry has greatly increased as well as food production, but any real benefit for our people is very limited. In the last year or two, the food conditions around Lhasa have become a little better, but around the countryside, it is very poor. During the past eighteen years or so the people were half hungry all the time.

JA: Has that increased disease and infant mortality?

DL: Oh, yes. Many people, just because they couldn’t get any butter—a staple of their diet from childhood—developed serious stomach ailments. They would swell up with gas. Their faces would become bloated, and many died. People are forced to eat just whatever wild vegetables they can find. Also, as I mentioned, the Chinese take increasing amounts of grain under different excuses or names. They say, “For love of your government, you must contribute more grain to it.” That is one tax. Another one requires that more grain be sold to the government. The fee that the people are supposed to receive in payment is to be collected at the bank, but usually they never get this money. Then the Chinese take grain to prepare for the Third World War. In the past, they said this was inevitable due to American imperialism, now it is supposed to come as a result of Soviet revisionism. In any case, according to the Chinese, there will be a Third World War. So they tell Tibetans that preparation for this war is highly necessary, and then they take another portion of grain. As a result of all this, the quantity of grain that should last thirty days lasts only twenty. Generally, Tibetans have quite big stomachs. They are used to eating well. If the people really ate to fill their stomachs, the grain wouldn’t last more than twenty or twenty-five days. In order to make up for the lack of rations, they often brew a very light soup to stretch it to the end of the month. In one way they are developing good eating habits. They certainly won’t get fat. (laughter)