DHARMSALA, India - Flanked by half-dozen other monks and wearing his trademark Coke-bottle glasses, there he was. The 14th Dalai Lama, aged 73, just a couple of feet away. Flanking him were a half-dozen senior monks, all dressed in crimson colored robes. He stood almost at arm's reach.
At the sight of their religious and political leader, the crowd of Tibetans and international followers rose to its feet and bowed their heads and clasped their hands together. Even on this, the fourth day of a week long teaching, most people were in awe.
A low chant played over speakers. Some mumbled along as he made his way from the monestary entrance toward the center of the temple. He stopped at one point, grasping a white woman on the sidelines. He said a few words, I couldn't make out what, and then kept going. All around the woman seemed amazed.
The lectures are held here in Dharmsala and celebrate the Dalai Lama's birthday last week. They are free to attend, but participants must register with Tibetan Security Forces in town, present a primitive green paper ID card with a passport photo to enter. I was frisked twice going in to ensure I did not bring a gun, explosive material, cell phone or a camera into the venue.
I came with Casey, a woman my age who is taking a year off from Tufts. We met on the streets of Dharmasala yesterday, when she poked me and asked, "Were in my Chinese class?" The answer was yes. She knocked on my door at 6:30 a.m., and we walked through early morning clouds to the temple. The complex is not the Potala Palace, the massive fort that looms over the Tibetan capital, Lhasa, but it is a big airy building that marries Indian post-colonial styles and Tibetan ascetics.
Casey led me to her spot, in the main chamber 20 meters from the Dalai Lama's stage. Attendees mark places with a pillow or piece of cardboard, and tradition means that these seats are saved for the entire lecture. Casey mentioned a stop nearby that had no been occupied for a couple days. I went to the tiny square of concrete, folded my legs and waited.
Within ten minutes my foot fell asleep, and when a Chinese man came a half-hour later and said that this was actually his seat, and I was relieved. I went downstairs, where I caught the close glimpse of the Dalai and then leaned against a tree.
His Highness (official title) took his seat and the congregation sang a long, exuberant song. Then they did another chant. Monks, mainly teenagers, gave everyone a piece of fresh oval-shaped Tibetan bread and poured hot cups of tea. Then the teachings began.
The Dalai Lama spoke in Tibetan, answering the questions of a Taiwanese Buddhist in long answers. The Taiwanese spoke in Chinese, and an instant English translation was available on a local AM radio frequency. Having no radio, I just listened the man's deep, throaty voice for an hour and a half.
The lectures go on until around noon, but I'd had enough. I wandered to the back of the temple and prepared to go back to my beautiful cliff-side hotel room. I looked back toward the temple and on a television screen setup for people downstairs I saw him one more time, still teaching.
