India experience

The sun had just come up and there were dozens of people going down narrow Temple Road. As its name suggests, it gives access to the main temple in Mcleod Ganj, home of the 14th Dalai Lama. Little by little, shopkeepers set up their stalls to sell prayer wheels and colorful meditation cushions and the coffee shops filled up with monks drinking chai. Closer to the temple the road gathers loud honks, steaming momos, westerners wearing Indian clothing, monks wearing Crocs, NGOs promoting their work, and cows, of course.
Time to leave phones and cameras in one of the stalls – it is strictly forbidden to take pictures inside the temple, so no selfies with the Dalai Lama – and rent a small FM radio if you want to listen to the translation of the teachings in English or any other available language.
At the entrance, separate gates: foreigners at one side, monks and nuns on the other side. The temple is spacious, but every bit of the main hall seems to be taken. I walk around the hall three times – in a clockwise direction, following the Buddhist tradition – until I find an empty space to sit. Everyone tries to settle in their cushions, put their shoes away, tune their radios to the right channel, and meet the people who will be their neighbors for the next hours. On my right side, there is a Chinese woman. On my left side, a Tibetan. But there is no conflict here and this fact goes unnoticed.
The mantras begin and, slowly, the chit-chat gives place to quiet. Silence. Suddenly, all eyes become restless and anxious. His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama arrives with a warm smile and I feel my heart melting. For a few minutes the general feeling is of excitement; some people try to near the room he will be staying to get a better look of him, others show their respect and devotion by prostrating themselves. But soon all you can hear is the voice of the Dalai Lama. So it goes on for almost three hours, nonstop. Lunch break and the cycle repeats itself in the afternoon. Untrained, body and mind complain; it is not easy to remain seated in the same position and listen attentively to each word – especially when you can hear Tibetan and the English translation at the same time. I like the lessons I hear, however something simpler brings the most joy to my heart: Dalai Lama’s delighted laughter.
It’s time to leave and, to my surprise, there is not much difference from exiting a rock concert: even monks are in a hurry and no one can get away from some pushing and shoving.