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| The snow lion flag of Free Tibet and the barred flag for united Tibetan Buddhism hang together, showing how intertwined are the country, the people and the faith. |
Clip-clop,
clip-clop.
Behind me
on the dawn-quiet street in the middle of McLeod Ganj, two mules, no mule
driver, dodge the ever-present shaggy street dogs and trot past intent on their
own business.
I am intent
on my pre-dawn business too: if I can
get down the steep hill to the reception of His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s office near the main temple before seven am, and deposit the small bag of malas (rosaries) and little
statues from me and my Buddhist friends, there’s a chance HHDL will bless these
items if he has an audience scheduled.
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| Tibetan grandma, mother and grandson wear their finest to see the Dalai Lama |
And later this
morning, eighty-five-year-old HHDL will open the newly renovated hall at
the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts back up the hill, so if I want to go
to that event, and then onto work (two kilometres further down the hill – it’s
a mountain town after all), I’m going to have to get a wriggle on.
