Sunday in Dharamsala - featuring a sit-in, a snow monkey and a Prime Minister
Last Sunday Jocelyn, Eva and I decided to go to St John’s stone church, which was built by the British in the nineteenth century when McLo was a hill-station. It stands a little way out of town, and is still used for Christian services as well as being a well-known tourist attraction.
As we passed through McLo's tiny main square our attention was drawn to a sit-down demonstration by members of the Tibetan Youth Congress – most of whom don't look very youthful any more – in solidarity with TYC members in New York who are on an indefinite hunger strike in front of the United Nations building, with the aim of drawing attention to the worsening situation in Tibet.
You might now know it from the (lack of) international media coverage, but things in Tibet are currently very serious, and since the recent spate of around 30 self-immolations (mostly young people setting themselves on fire in a desperate act of protest) there is now undeclared martial law in the country. The TYC members are calling for international media and a fact-finding mission to be allowed into Tibet, and for all political prisoners to be released. Check it out and if you are interested, please sign the online petition to the UN. www.change.org/petitions/un-stop-ongoing-genocide-in-tibet
When we reached St John's church - after a dusty walk down the road - it was open and a service was on, with an Indian preacher addressing a small congregation of Indians and Europeans. It was interesting to sit for a bit inside the rather conventional stone church, which would not have been out of place in an English village.
After a while we slipped outside and walked further on – after looking at Lord Elgin’s elaborate tomb. A little path led through the sparse forest of oaks and Himalayan pines to the churchyard, with the graves sprawled at different levels down the steep hill. Soldiers, missionaries, small children and army wives all came here, and many died here, often at a pathetically young age.
And suddenly, loping up the hill, there was a snow monkey! The snow monkeys live at a high altitude in the hotter months, but come down to the area around McLo in winter. Last time I was here I missed seeing one, so I was thrilled to catch sight of one at last!
It was by far the biggest monkey I’ve seen around here, with very long light grey fur and a big white ruff around its black face – it looked quite yeti-like. It stopped to have a snack from a bush while we grabbed our cameras, and stayed around for several minutes while we took photographs, before moving on up the hill. I had heard that the snow monkeys are quite shy, but this one didn’t seem at all bothered by our presence.
We wandered around the cemetery for a while, then went up to the road to wait for a bus or taxi going to Dharamsala. After a few minutes a jeep-taxi came down, empty, and we got on. The cost of the ride - about nine kilometres of windy downhill road - was 10 rupees (NZ 25c). By the time we got to Dharamsala there were about fourteen passengers, absolutely crammed in! Although at 10 rupees a fare you really need that many to make the trip worthwhile.
As we drove down the hectic main street I spotted a sign for bed sheets, which is what we were after, so we got off and walked up a narrow stairway to a Kashmiri emporium which turned out to be an absolute treasure trove of wonderful fabrics.
After buying our sheets we spent some time looking around, with the shopkeeper grabbing things off the shelves and flinging them onto the wide benches around the room. It was a fairyland of colour, fabulous embroidery, and rich fabrics. Wall hangings, carpets, robes, tunics, mats - all hand made and of an amazing variety and quality. I was interested in getting a salwar kameez (long tunic) for the warmer time, but they were all too small around the arms, though beautifully embroidered. I also tried on the most exquisite long robe, totally embroidered – like something out of Ali Baba. There was a lot ot tempt us but as we are only in in our second week in McLo we thought we had better resist.
The shopkeeper recommended the Dhauladhar Hotel for lunch so we walked up the main street looking for it (which took some time as it was up a side alley.) On the way we stopped at a kitchenware shop to buy spoons and forks, and I also got a metal plate, so I’m now all set up in my little room at Snow Height.
At the Dhauladhar, which was a nice, upmarket hotel (for Dharamsala) we sat down and looked out on the terrace, where a Tibetan was being photographed. I immediately recognised the Kalon Tripa, Dr Lobsang Sangay. He came over to talk to two tables of Tibetans just outside the window – we were sitting inside looking out on the terrace. The way they greeted him with great deference – even a much older senior-looking monk – confirmed how important he is in the Tibetan hierarchy. Lobsang Sangay is the person who has taken over the policitical organisation of the Tibetan people from the Dalai Lama, and was elected by the Tibetans in exile through a democratic process last year. An impressive man who has a tough job ahead of him.
After lunch we went down to the Kangra Art museum (50 R entry), which was surprisingly interesting. I had expected to see some good miniature paintings, as teh Kabgra School of art is famous throughout India, but they also had some nice stonework and lovely jewellery, as well as beautiful double-sided embroideries. Kangra miniature painting features mostly Hindu subject matter, unlike the Mughal paintings which deal with court life, but the Kangra paintings have the same exquisite detail and gorgeous colours.
The attendant who came around teh museum with us turned out to be a miniature painter himself, Anil Kumar Raina, who comes from a long lineage of painters. He showed us some of his own paintings which are beautiful. It's good to know that the tradition is still alive an flourishing.
Also at the museum was a model of Kangra fort in its heyday – it used to be a huge and impressive castle. I've seen a photo of the site now and there’s nothing there – it collapsed in the earthquake of 1905 - the same catastrophe which sent the British scurrying away from the area to safer places like Shimla and Darjeeling.
After a good visit at the museum we took another crowded taxi jeep up the hill. The driver was crazy and recklessly passed every other vehicle he came across on the narrow road, but we made it OK. A good Sunday outing....
If you liked this story, you might be interested in reading "Between Monks and Monkeys", written after my first time in Dharamshala in 2010. Available as an Ebook for US$1.99 on Kindle, NOOK, I-tunes
etc, or as a paperback (email me for details.)
