The Himalaya Playa and the Chandigarh Kid

Marisa and I have become fast friends with two people that work at the Indian Express: Tashi, The Himalaya Playa and Sourav, The Chandigarh Kid.

Sourav, not surpisingly, comes from Chandigarh, the capital of the western state of Punjab. He is one of the top reporters here at the Indian Express and has been a tremendous help in learning our way around Delhi and in getting sources for stories I am working on. We hope to travel with him next week to his home state to find out about female feticide.

Tashi, the Himalaya Playa, is a refugee from Tibet. His parents escaped the Chinese occupation of Tibet but not all of his family was as lucky. His aunt and other family members were starved to death in Chinese prisons. Tashi speaks and writes seven languages and spent an entire year trekking through the Himalayas. He shot over 50 hours of footage of his adventure and is trying to figure out how to edit it down to a documentary size.

Last night Tashi and Sourav took us to a Tibetan village on the eastern side of Delhi. In the 60s (check that) the Indian government gave Tibetan refugees a few plots of land on which to build refugee camps. This was one of them and they made good use of it. The buildings are so close together that there are no real roads, only alleyways where one can touch both sides if he holds his arms out stretched.

But those alleys are filled with activity. Visitors are greeted by sneaker shops filled with lime green and sherbert colored, designer sneakers imported from Asia and Europe. Internet cafes, small hotels, and restaurants line the alleys, as do teenagers wearing hip hop hoodies. The alleys are so narrow that even enterprising Indians cannot drive through them. So there are no loud horns from cars, buses and motorcycles or street calls from fruit vendors. After a week in Delhi, this place is blissfully quiet.

Tashi led us to the center of the village where a small courtyard had been cleared and there is a Tibetan temple. Along the route, Tashi showed us the hidden alleys that lead out of the village. Teenagers use these alleys to sneak out together to do as teenagers do.

We removed our shoes and entered the Tibetan temple. Inside incence wafted through the warm air from huge wooden boxes on the floorboards. A combination of soft lights and oil fed candles lit the room. The walls contained glass cases with ornate dolls of important monks (I assume). Orange and crimson clad monks softly filtered through the room. At the room's center was a blurry, 5-foot, blow-up, poster of the Dali Lama. The poster's colors had long since faded into 1970s tones of oranges and browns. Amongst all of this ancient tradition it seemed odd to put an ink jet poster of a guy who is still alive and doing interviews on CNN. But for the Tibetans the Dali Lama represents the most current incarnation of the Buddha. So praying in his presence, even a computer rendered facsimile of his presence, is a powerful force for them.

The American image of Tibetans is of a devout people with total respect for all living creatures. Well they may respect them but they have no problem eating them. Tashi tells us that his people eat a lot of meat, especially Yaks back home. The Yak's eyeballs and tongues are given to children and guests. Fortunately it is not easy for Tibetans to find Yaks here. Otherwise we would Fear Factor our way through Yak balls.

The Tibetans are also heavy drinkers and this had caused social problems in the village. So last year the Dali Lama sent a nice letter to the village asking them to refrain from alcohol because some peoples' lives were being ruined. Within days the town had been cleared of liquor. According to Tashi, the Dali Lama sent money for the poorer villagers who relied on alcohol sales for thier income. The villagers politely sent the money back.

Tashi took us to the second best restaurant in town where we chowed down on vegetable noodle soup, Tingmo (Tibetan breads), steamed momos (dumplings), and mixed vegetables in a warm, brown gravy. We also drank Tibetan tea, which tastes like a cup of warm butter. Except for the butter drinks our bellies were most thankful for a relatively healthy meal not overloaded with oil.

Luckily this week is the Tibetan New Year. We plan on going wiith Tashi to see the celebrations.