FOOTLOOSE IN NAMDROLING (Final)

The time was high noon, around 1.00 pm and I looked out for a cafeteria. There was none. I made a quick exit to find some good Tibetan lunch from a homely restaurant. Such places were available in Tibetan settlements, at a distance of two to five km away from Namdroling Monastry. You can walk it out too bypassing the auto-rickshaw guys but I would advise the second option. The advantage is that you can strike a conversation with the auto-driver and ask about the life in Tibetan villages.

 

The old camp is the place where poor refugees freshly displaced from Tibet settled in the early sixties. One can make it out from the impoverished surroundings but it looks much more spacious and dignified than an average Indian slum. The surroundings are clean as well with no sign of garbage or plastic waste anywhere in sight! As I was walking through the narrow street, a Tibetan youth on a scooter stopped his bike and wished me. He asked about my intention in a friendly way, that too in chaste English and drove off. He did come back after a short while and invited me for a community lunch as a part of Pooja celebration. I had to decline the offer as I wanted to experience of the ambience of Tibetan restaurant-cum- home. The restaurant part make the facade and home is at the back. There is a separate place for wash, detached from the dining area. You can have as many cups of Tibetan Green Tea as appetisers, they are free. Drinking water is not provided, you are supposed to buy mineral water bottles. Normal tea/coffee is also elusive as Pepsi/Coke is the raison d'être of the monks who are the main patrons. I had seen young bhikshus moving around with Cocoa Cola bottles even in front of the prayer hall.

The popular item for lunch is Thukpa (Tibetan flat noodle soup) available either with beef or with pork. Oddly enough, the Tibetan menu is exceedingly non-vegetarian and I am at a loss to figure out how the fare passes the principles of Ahimsa. You can try Momo too, the Tibetan dumpling made out of wheat flower and chicken minus the masala, in steam. Momo is irresistible when served hot with sauce and sliced onions. Momo is a main player in break-fast, lunch and dinner and usually a plate of ten pieces is enough.

I asked for a vegetable roll for breakfast and what I got was something akin to shawarma wrapped around in a larger and thicker kuboos (roti made out of wheat flour). What’s more, it had a single-omelette too camouflaged among the vegetable gratings. One must try the Butter-tea, it is unique. A very special Tibetan decoction, heavier with butter and plenty of milk. Interestingly, salt is added instead of sugar. Butter-tea is not easily available. If you are near the main entrance of Namdroling, try the Tibetan Kitchen. The unassuming cook, teen-aged Patric from Bengal makes it taking his time and keeps you engaged with his interesting anecdotes.

I visited the new camp on the second day, situated at four km further down the road. The two sides of the road are lined with bungalows where the rich among the refugees live. I was astounded to see the disparities in status. There are vast stretches of land behind these mansions without any sort of cultivation. I wondered how Rubber trees failed to make an inroad into the Tibetan land. (In Kerala, even the adivasis are more inclined to grow rubber, which is detrimental to the environment but brings money).

Why these people are shying away from agriculture? I asked the auto-rickshaw driver. In fact, he doesn’t like the Tibetan crowd. They have plenty of money coming from abroad and lead a lazy life, he said.

The new settlement is a happening place with well-planned cityscape. Modern Administration buildings, apartment complex, hospital, conference halls, auditoriums, temples, community centres, two Universities (Sera May and Sera Jay) and lined with trees everywhere. The Dalai Lama when he makes a visit stays in one of the three guest-houses away from the residential area.

I buzzed into a cafeteria near the University frequented by young scholars. A glass of green tea was immediately served to me without asking.  The monks were busy eating fast-food and gulping down soft-drinks. Normally they spend twenty five years for graduation and five more years for specialisation. Afterwards they can go abroad and teach Buddhism, if so inclined.

I was the only outsider and nobody took notice.  After some time, a Buddhist monk in his late twenties sat opposite to me with a book in hand. I asked his name and he uttered an unpronounceable syllable. It was a good start, however.

Can you describe the essential teachings, Sir?

My English is rather poor, he said. Moreover, it takes quite some time to give you even an elementary idea of Buddhist philosophy.

He bid good-bye to me with a dispassionate smile. Perhaps he took me for an inquisitive journalist veering   into the private lives of monks.

The glassful of green tea was still waiting. I felt crest-fallen for no obvious reason. Now, who is going to answer my long-pending question?

Does the eight-fold noble path take you to Enlightenment directly? Or is it just a purifier?

Relax! I said to myself, asking questions is more important than finding their answers.

Yes, it was a splendid consolation.

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