By Sonny Inbaraj
Dharamshala, August 6 – For 27-year-old Jamyang, it was a clash of cultures – Tibetan ‘thangka’ (cloth) paintings versus Bollywood and Western rock and roll. In the end, the latter won the day when he chucked his ‘thangka’ paintbrushes for an electric guitar and formed a rock band that belted out Tibetan freedom songs and popular Hindi love tunes.
”I was trained in the art of thangka painting, but I couldn’t see myself dressed in traditional clothes and drawing Tibetan deities the whole day from a fixed posture when there is so much happening around me,” says Jamyang, who like most Tibetan refugees prefers to be known only by his first name.
The ex-‘thangka’ painter then went on to form the JJi Exile Brothers Band with his own younger brothers Jigme and Ingsel.
”The concept of ‘rangzen’ is strong in me and I wanted to reach out to young Tibetans; to tell them not to forget about Tibet,” Jamyang tells IPS, explaining why he founded JJi.
‘Rangzen’ – a Tibetan neologism variously translated as self- determination, independence or freedom – is the slogan shouted in front of Chinese embassies all over the world by Tibetans protesting their country’s occupation, the anchoring lyric for innumerable songs and poems written in exile, and a ticket to prison in Tibet.
In 1950, Chinese troops invaded Kham in eastern Tibet – advancing rapidly to the capital Lhasa, following a military plan laid down by Deng Xiaoping. The Tibetan forces engaged in several skirmishes, but were soon encircled.
More than 1.2 million Tibetans died in the Chinese invasion and according to international human rights monitors, the use of detention, arrest, imprisonment, and torture of large numbers of Tibetans continues to be an integral part of China’s efforts to suppress opposition to Chinese rule in Tibet.
Dharamsala, in the northern Himachel Pradesh state, plays host to over 10,000 Tibetan refugees — with more new arrivals each month. Tens of thousands are also in settlements in the southern state of Karnataka.
Using the universal language of rock that appeals to youth all over the world, JJi’s music ideologically aligns with many of the Tibetan refugee community’s concerns, such as justice, freedom of expression and world peace.
”We are free in India, but we are aware of what is happening in Tibet through news and television,” says Jamyang, who was born in this Indian hill-station overlooking the Himalayas.
But Jamyang and his brothers are part of the new generation of Tibetan refugees who feel very much at home in India and also have a penchant for Indian candy, the songs and stars of Hindi films, hip-hop baggy jeans and hennaed hair.
”Of course we have to play Bollywood songs at our concerts, if not no one would turn up,” retorts Jamyang. ”This is India, man!”
”We entice our audience using Hindi love songs, and then interject Tibetan rangzen numbers. So everyone’s happy,” explains the bandleader.
Indeed Indian and Western practices, values and aesthetics have become deeply ingrained even into private, everyday aspects of the lives of most Tibetan refugees that certain quarters feel traditional Tibetan culture will ‘disappear’ in exile long before it does in their homeland.
”I really don’t understand this ‘masalla’ (Hindi term for mixed) music of our youth. Soon we’ll be asking ourselves what is original Tibetan music,” laments Tenzin Dolma, a goldsmith who’s also a singer of ‘gay shay’ – songs from the seventh century era of King Songten Gampo, the monarch who opened Tibet to Buddhism.
But for hip-hop rapster Lobsang Thubten, who was also born in India, Tibet is almost a mythical place.
”My parents escaped from Tibet in the early 1970s. But for me it still remains far away,” he tells IPS.
”Look at us. Is this life? I love my family and Tibet, but the world’s zipping by. It sucks, man!” laments Lobsang after rapping to his version of the Eagles’ ‘Hotel California’ – a performance he puts on every Monday night at the popular Khana Nirvana cafe, here.
For Lobsang life is being part of India’s fast-lane economy that offers plush jobs, five-digit wages and a glitzy lifestyle – certainly far away from the overcrowded, three-street, parochial Dharamsala.
”I surf the Net everyday, looking at Indian job sites. My dream is to work in one of the call-centres in New Delhi. That’s the reason I’m brushing up on my (North) American English. Being able to rap helps,” he says rather proudly in his black Harlem drawl.
However, Tenzin Norgay, a researcher with the Tibetan Centre for Human Rights, cautions against dismissing these Indian-born Tibetan refugees.
”Don’t be fooled by this hip-hop culture as many of these youths are actually quite serious people,” he tells IPS. ”Some of the new generation want to make the best of their lives in India but they also have not forgotten Tibet and will not hesitate to go and live there if it becomes free.”
While it might be impossible to prevent the insidious influence of Bollywood, rock and roll, and hip-hop on young Tibetans, it is in the new arrivals that hope lies in maintaining a strong commitment to the preservation of Tibetan culture – since they have personally experienced the consequences of living under Chinese occupation.
”If musicians in the exile community do not promote traditional genres, who will?” asks Boomswang, a traditional mandolin player who arrived in India four years ago after a 28-day trek across the Himalayas – with Chinese troops in hot pursuit of him.
”While Indian musicians feel comfortable borrowing new ideas from here and there and to experiment, we Tibetans cannot afford to do the same. Tibet is not yet free and if our culture goes; it goes away forever,” he points out.
