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  • Here is a Lesson (You are Good Enough)

    16 June, by Kalsang Dolkar

    I wrote to you, almost every single day. I wrote as though my words would bring me back to you; as though I were about to die of some terminal illness, and the words that I was churning out would be the last ones I’d ever send to you. I wrote as though these desperate metaphors and similes would fill the ever-expanding hole in my life – but how is that possible when you, the love child of lonely nights and summer rain, have become my life – because when I rested beside (...)

  • I am a terrorist

    2 May, by TW

    It is considered bad luck among Tibetans to discuss what will happen when the Dalai Lama dies. Tenzin Tsundue, however, is not afraid of taboos. “If His Holiness passes away before the situation is resolved, I think the Tibetan people will take matters into their own hands. Once the centre disappears, the periphery will be thrown into tumult. Violence cannot be ruled out. I have horns two fangs and a dragonfly tail I am the humiliation you gulped down with flattened nose I am a (...)

  • ’I will carry the sky’

    3 October 2013, by Bhuchung D Sonam

    A Home in Tibet Published by Penguin India. Price: Rs.499 ’I come from there and I have memories / I have a mother /And a house with many windows…’ wrote one of my favourite poets Mahoud Darwish. Tsering Choden Dhompa came from a place, where the land was so white and cold in the winter you would think a humongous freezer was perpetually at work; in the summer the same land would transform into a colossal garden as if the goddess of art was letting the entire arsenal of her palette (...)

  • Musings on Indian Independence Day

    22 August 2013, by Tenzin Nyinjey

    It was a bleak, rainy day. The air was filled with mist. Everywhere one looked, one found dampness and mud. Not a ray of sunshine. Nor even the yearning for it in people’s mind. Add to this the house that I live in, a house not my own, but rented, on a land that doesn’t belong to me – despite the humanity of my landlords. No wonder the pounding rain and the mist outside provoked a profound sense of dread in me. Rather than kicking off the searing fear, treating him in contempt, as we often (...)

  • Tibet’s bread-and-freedom poets

    12 August 2013, by TW

    Pa Topgyal is 79 years old. While speaking to his elder daughter on the phone he wails like a three-year-old boy. She is in the US, an illegal Tibetan without papers. He is a refugee living in India for over 50 years. She is 38. They haven’t met for 17 years. If numbers alone represent sorrows, it’s a hundred and eighty four years of pain and dislocation, longing and desire, grief and resignation, promises and disappointment, hope and surrender. Despite five decades of selling sweaters in the (...)

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