Himalayan refuge: Tibetan traditions find a second home in Indias Dharamsala

Thin mats and blankets covered the floors of Tsuglagkhang temple, several bearing scraps of paper inscribed with an individuals name an ad hoc reservation system. A Buddhist monk with a foghorn voice chanted over a loudspeaker, calling all men, women and children to their places on the hard ground. Young robed men walked through the aisles pouring milky tea from large silver pots and placing discs of dense bread into open palms.

Seating was tough, a packed house. I found a small clearing among a pile of discarded shoes and settled in. From my vantage point, I could look over dozens of praying bodies and through a little window, where a round, bald head bobbed in and out of view. I focused all my energy on the elfin figure and repeated a private mantra: Look over here, over here, over here.

Of course, I didnt know what I would do if my wish came true. Perhaps I would respectfully bow or flash a peace sign both appropriate gestures for the temples main inhabitant, the Dalai Lama. In the end, however, I spontaneously stuck out my finger as the Buddhist leader walked by. He squeezed it, and my left index finger briefly gained celebrity status.

Can I touch your finger? a knotty-haired Englishman later asked me.

I held out my blessed body part like ET phoning home, and he dabbed off some of the magic.

The Dalai Lama is omnipresent in Dharamsala, his adopted home town in northern India and the capital of the Central Tibetan Administration, the exiled government. The head monk holds teachings at his temple that are open to the public, and visitors can often see him perched like an extraordinary bird in his elevated throne. Yet even when he is absent, his presence is still felt. Restaurants, hotels and cafes typically hang framed photos of the lama laughing or sipping tea. Stores install small shrines in discreet corners. Street vendors sell accoutrements and accessories prayer beads, white scarves, incense holders, Buddha statues, om charms that encapsulate his spiritual style.

In 1959, the 14th Dalai Lama fled Tibet after Chinese forces invaded and took over the bordering country. India granted the spiritual leader asylum, and he moved in, building his temple and private residence in McLeod Ganj, a well-touristed area in Upper Dharamsala in the state of Himachal Pradesh. The Tsuglagkhang complex rests in the cradle of the regal Himalayan mountains, a reminder of home as seen from the flip side.

The settlement has transformed the Indian region into a mini-Tibet. Of the nearly 100,000 refugees, about 14,000 exiles live in Dharamsala. Its nickname, Little Lhasa, is no breezy bumper sticker catchphrase. I saw more traditional Tibetan dresses than saris, and more Tibetan flags than Indian pennants. Of course, remembering where I was, in Mother India, I made room for both cultures on my plate: momos (steamed Tibetan dumplings) on one side, dal tadka (yellow lentils) on the other.

I heard Sonam Dorjee before I saw him.

The streets of McLeod Ganj are steep and narrow and jammed with a daily procession of cars, motorbikes, cows, dogs, monks, monkeys and the odd donkey spilling its load of rubble. While walking up a rocky trail from my hotel, I picked up the ubiquitous sound of feet hitting loose stones, a chattering noise that doubled as an alarm to move aside. But instead of buzzing by me, Dorjee stopped to talk. The main topic was Tibetans in India, an unsurprising subject considering his line of work.

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Himalayan refuge: Tibetan traditions find a second home in Indias Dharamsala