But for the old Tibetan quarters, almost all modern buildings, shops and cars here are owned or occupied by the newly settled Chinese – Vijay Kranti
Modern Tibet
Unlike Richard Gere who was bitten by the Tibet bug at a mature age, my fascination for Tibet started as a little kid back in the 1950s when a school text book told me about Tibet as a neighbouring “nation”. As a child, it was interesting to discover that a boy incarnate is made king of the land, and that the people of Tibet greet each other by sticking out their tongue. At that tender age, where else could I have wished to go? Those were days when we Indians had yet to learn the virtues of realpolitik. Our school textbooks could still speak the truth and refer to Tibet as a country, separate from China.
It is already past evening when my bus enters Lhasa. As it speeds along an eight lane city boulevard, the massive high rise buildings and jumbo neon signs suddenly overwhelm me. It looks like a parade of shopping malls exploding with lights, with all kinds of consumer goods and brimming with well dressed customers – a scene that could put the best of Gurgaon or Bangalore to shame.
Soon I stop counting the endless number of Pajeros, BMWs and cars of other such makes on the road. Hoping to see herds of yaks roaming the streets of Lhasa, I am left to wonder what it was that made the animals metamorphose in to such wonderful, wheeled gizmos.
As I snuggle in to the comfortable bed of my tourist guest house in the old part of Lhasa, I am unable to solve the puzzle – which Tibet is for real? Is it the one I saw through my bus window or the one I’ve been living with and hearing about all these years? Exasperated, I fall back on my tried and tested device of leaving the answer for the following day and go to sleep.
Strangers at home
In today’s Tibet, the happiest tourist is one who cannot distinguish between a Tibetan and a Chinese. On my first visit to Tibet, I was shocked to see hundreds of beggars. Not one was Chinese. But within a gap of two years, I notice that most of the strategic points in Norbuligka, the Dalai Lama’s summer palace and Drepung, the largest monastery, have been occupied by Chinese beggars. They include Chinese students too. You enjoy giving alms as long as you can not distinguish between a Tibetan and a Chinese.
On my very first day in Lhasa, I met a kind and friendly Tibetan in his early 20s who liked me only because I spoke “very best” English and because I was from “Gya-Kar” (White/Holy Land), a popular name for India. Strangely, even after 50 years of Chinese rule and “education”, Tibetans use the term “Gya-Nak” (Black/ Inauspicious Land) for China. The Tibetan wanted to brush up on his English and I could do with some company.
However, the man’s company turned a little exasperating on the very first evening itself when he suddenly vanished in to a big, glittering store where he had taken me to buy films for my camera. After a long wait, he returned only to give me a shock, as well as the answer to the previous night’s puzzle. As he showed me the film counter, there was an announcement over the public address system which saw my friend rushing to the store manager. The manager and his staff were confused as they stood with a middle aged Tibetan woman from a nearby town who wanted to make a purchase. The woman didn’t speak Chinese. The store officials were desperately looking for an interpreter.
It was only then it dawned that but for the old Tibetan quarters of the city, almost all wonderful buildings, offices, shops and “jazzy” cars in Lhasa were owned or occupied by newly arrived Chinese settlers. Sales staff and customers in these stores, as well as the taxi drivers on the roads, are almost invariably Chinese. So here I was in the real Tibet – where Tibetans were strangers.
Preity Zinta Vs Panchen Lama
As a tourist you can enjoy Tibet only if you have no interest in the prevailing political situation. It is amusing to discover that pavement poster sellers still display Mao’s posters but the posters of Preity Zinta, Shah Rukh Khan and Aishwarya Rai sell more.
Travel a thousand kilometres on any circuit in “China’s Tibet” and you don’t see a single picture of the Dalai Lama or Gedhun Choeky Nyima, the boy Panchen Lama recognised by him, in Tibetan houses or shops. The reason is simple – no Tibetan wants a six year jail sentence.
This might help you fathom why the Chinese poster seller near Barkhor in Lhasa sells pictures of the previous Panchen Lama (who died over 16 years ago) and not the current “sarkari” one who Beijing is desperately trying to project as the “real” Panchen Lama. The “political” reason is that people in Tibet have refused to buy the authenticity of the China-propped Panchen Lama. The “economic” side of the story is they don’t buy his photos either. I too would go for Preity Zinta in such a situation. Wouldn’t you?
