BUT BUDDHA, WE HARDLY KNEW YA'

Yes, rain equals power outage.

Anyway, I arrive in McLeod Ganj, it's raining, and there are no available guest house/hotel rooms. I've gone to six places already, I'm drenched, I've just gotten off the train from hell, and I'm hauling my bags. One gentle young man notes, "That bag has become a burden to you."

"Yes," ... apparently I like to bring my burdens with me, I take time to reflect.

What's a woman to do? UPSCALE, and there's one room available. I take it. The whole experience of McLeod Ganj is surreal. My hotel room has cable, the dogs look good, and the Tibetan people are kind. Where's India?

The Dalai Lama is still giving public teachings, and I head down Temple Road, to the Temple. I'm not allowed to go in to the actual Temple where he is speaking as I have my camera with me, although I am allowed to enter through the Golden Gates. It is after this hopeful entrance that one is turned away, should one have cameras, cell phones, guns, etc.. The Temple is beautiful, tasteful, and quite modest. Dogs, everywhere. As I leave, somehow I strike up a conversation with a young man, turns out he heads "Tibetan Volunteers For Animals." I help him sell T-shirts on Temple road to raise funds for his group. My first day in McLeod, participating in a Noble Cause. His appears to be mainly an awareness campaign promoting kindness, compassion towards animals, animal rights and vegetarianism; the website is: www.semchen.org. I had a great time, with more stares from the Buddhist monks than the Westerners, and I sold three T-Shirts.

But Buddha We Hardly Knew Ya

McLeod Ganj is sometimes called "Little Tibet." The Dalai Lama lives here, The Tibetan government in exile resides here, and the refugees from Tibet come here. The stories are amazing. The stories of struggle, escape and capture by the Chinese, imprisonment, torture, with somehow a nature of hope and hard work that pervades the psychological climate here. His Holiness the Dalai Lama is referred to with the utmost respect. He has asked the Tibetan people to learn English and focus on education. They approach their studies with an earnestness and dedication that is admirable. There are many opportunities for Westerners to volunteer with the Tibetans, especially in teaching English. In one conversation I am surprised to hear how little the younger people know of the Buddhist teachings before they come here. Well, makes sense. The Chinese haven't allowed this for quite some time. I speak with a young woman who came here at 15, from a remote area where she and her family were shepherds. There she had no schooling of any kind, and no teachings of Tibetan Buddhism. I ask her if she's been going to the Dalai Lama's teachings, and she says yes, as much as she can, but this is new for her and difficult to understand. I come to realize this is common for the younger generation, and the Temple is typically filled with elderly Tibetans, and visitors, both Western and Indian.

Although the public teachings were coming to an end when I arrived, these were followed by a beautiful "Long Life" ceremony including elaborate Tantric ceremonies, prayers and offerings. Exquisite.

[I assume "Long Life' infers a happy long life ... a long life of misery ... makes one pause]



Along with monasteries, politics are prevalent. Posters, slogans, peace marches, and Olympic protests. These people are involved. A town of Tantrics and Politics; side by side.





The Tibetans know something about the power of sound, and I watch and listen to trumpets and horns stretch out over the valleys below the Temple, sending cosmic vibrations out to the universe. Lots of spitting involved, too. The dogs come to listen from the rooftops and take in the vibrations ... or are they sending them out, as well?

One of these days is the day of the Buddha's enlightenment. No, the day the Buddha gave his first teachings, no, it's a different day, but it's some kind of Tibetan Day, as the library is closed and it's a Wednesday. In a somewhat peaceful cafe on this day of enlightenment, or first teachings, or whatever important day it was, tensions break out in the early a.m., while I sit quietly over a cup of morning chai.

The owner of the cafe becomes visibly upset with a few men who quietly walked in, and are somewhat casually "in his face". "He said he was going to punch me, He said he was going to punch me," we hear repeatedly. I guess they do things differently in the Peace Cafe; one peacefully enters and announces their intentions of violence. Very strange. We hear words of "Kashmiri",
"No, Hindi ... Kashmiri?? Hindi!"
Kashmiri got the most votes. Tempers flare and broomsticks become weapons. Things really escalate. The western guests sit quietly and we pretend as best we can that we are not there.

OM-TARA-TU-TARA-TO-RE-SO-HA

The recitation of the mantra of Green Tara protects us. Wish I'd thought of it while I sat there. Apparently, ethnic conflicts and dramas exist in Little Tibet. This is not the only incident I encounter that crosses ethnic tensions.

They say the Buddha summarized 84,000 defilements ... the cure for which is the eightfold path,

through the threefold path, ... or more ... to cure greed, desires, lust, ... or more, following the Four Noble truths, that have five conditions, and at least a Triple Jewel, and a Wheel of Life and six paths of re-birth .....

But Buddha, there are those of us that hardly knew ya. How about the Direct Path? I'm American, and impatient.

DOGS EVERYWHERE!

As I've mentioned, there are the Temple dogs, (unofficial), they roam within the gates of the Temple. There are the street dogs of Temple Road, there are the street dogs of Jogibara Road, there are the street dogs of Bhagsu Road ... the Bus Stand square dogs, the Dharamkot Road dogs, you get the picture. They are everywhere, and territory is territory. It's claimed. The Temple dogs, surprisingly, seem the most territorial. Perhaps it's the one ring leader who sets the tone, but he's tough. A handsome black and tan long-coat who has an identical female counterpart, but she's sweet, and sits on some stairs near the entrance gate that lead to some offices and residences. She doesn't move much, just sits there and checks out what food is being passed by her as the monks bring in dinner. Her brother the "Emperor" likes to spring out of nowhere when canine intruders cross the line, with his hair raised and teeth barred; he means business. Perhaps this guy could use a little more time in meditation. One sad victim of the "Emperor's" wrath is a mottled colored, large gangly pup who always manages to look a mess. He's got mange, his legs and tail are too long, and he seems to always sprout fresh wounds, most likely from "Emperor." One whiff of Emperor in the air, and this pup goes running, tail tucked and head down. (OM TARA TU TARA ---) "Motley" wants no trouble.

I've tried to give him mange medication and antibiotics, and he won't touch it, no matter how well I think I've hidden it in his food. Funny thing is, he leaps up at the food I've got for him with complete enthusiasm, as though he's really hungry. Then, once he sees it's not to his liking, he spits it out, or just turns his nose up at it. These dogs are well fed. Anyway, he doesn't hold it against me that I don't bring him food that he likes, he greets me with great enthusiasm each time we meet, as though I've brought him food fit for a King. He's very dear, and just a big enthusiastic puppy. I'll miss him.
... I did eventually get him some mange meds and antibiotics before I left.

THE "EMPEROR"

"MOTLEY"


What's most surprising with all these street dogs is, just how good they look, and how well tolerated they are by the Tibetans.

Not all perfect, of course, but pretty good, and many are kept as pets ... and "designer dogs" have come to India, just like in the west.

I notice one handsome gent, who turns to give me his backside just as I click the camera, and what do I see? Or rather what do I not see? Testicles. This guy is neutered; I'm impressed. I think this must be some kind of anomaly, the one neutered male in all of Northern India! But no, I keep looking, trying to make my lowered sight line not too obvious, and what do I find, but many, altered males! The locals that I speak to don't seem to know too much about that, but they do know of people who feed them. One such person is a Tibetan nun who has been feeding a bunch for the last thirty years. She's known to really love dogs, and I find that a movie has been made about her life and love for the dogs by a former resident of TCV, Tibetan Children's Village. I determine I'd like to meet her ... it will just be one more day in McLeod even though I had planned to leave a few days earlier. So, I walk around, somehow I get the name of a street and it's not too far from where I'm staying. I find the spot, and although she's not there, there sure are a lot of dogs around. The dogs that I do see look good, and again, the males look neutered.
The next day, I'm walking about in the morning on another side of town, and I come across an elderly woman, late seventies maybe early eighties, who is very enthusiastically hugging and squeezing street dogs. One black lab in particular, so much so that he yelps in pain. I've met the nun. Yes, she loves her dogs. Perhaps a little too much, one can't help notice. I recall times of childhood when a friend of Grandma's would come to visit and squeeze us too hard, and my brother and I would run when we saw her coming.

Late seventies, early eighties, ... started thirty years ago ... does history repeat itself? I shudder, just a little, and move on.

"ESPRESSA"

I've developed a favorite .... This bright beauty hangs at the "MoonPeak Espresso" cafe and gallery. The best coffee in town. This dog is delightful, with impeccable manners. She's a medium size with pretty golden brown eyes, and a lovely disposition. She's black and tan, medium coat, and I can't help but think, perfect city-size. Not too big, and not too small, a great apartment size dog. She's not hungry, someone is feeding her, she just really likes to be with people. Of course, people at the cafe will give her bits of food, but she does not beg for food, she is not obnoxious about that in any way, she really likes to just be by some one's side. She wants companionship. I can't help but think of the notion of relationship, and in seeking the company of others we look for unity, for connection. Those who believe that animals only come to us as their source for food, need look no further than this beauty and her gentle nature and the peace she feels in connection. What a waste, that this dog will be forever a street dog, I can't help but think. She asks nothing of me, or of anyone else at the cafe, only that she be allowed to quietly sit in connection. This is a gentle beauty.
Can I pull one more miracle out of the bag of "animal adoption miracles" and find this dog the home she deserves? I don't see how; this is new territory for me, and McLeod Ganj is only a brief stop on my journey. I do determine to have her spayed, inoculated, and hope to perhaps find a somewhat permanent caretaker. Still, what a waste, I can't help but judge. This is what people are looking for when they want a "pet" dog. This is an absolutely perfect companion dog.; I should know, I've done animal adoptions for over 16 years.

Well, with a goal but not a plan, I go about my usual business. I feed her; again, she's not even always hungry, just happy to be with someone, and sometimes we play. She follows me along Temple Road, for only that part of which is her turf, and when I go too far, she retreats to the safety of her spot at Moonpeak Cafe, or the terrace at lookout point. On one of my morning walks with her, I stop in the Pharmacy on this route. She patiently waits outside. I put in my order, and the pharmacist asks me what this is for. For the dogs, I reply. Your dog? No, street dogs, for the mange and parasites. "Uh huh". He makes a phone call while he completes my order. "Someone wants to meet you." I nod, and look around to see who he's talking to ... "me?" "Yes, he's seen you playing with the dogs." "Well, ..." I try to explain I don't play with the dogs, I try to feed and medicate them ... but before I've finished my sentence some one's there to meet me.
Things move fast sometimes in India, and before I know it I'm at the Dalai Lama's residence meeting his dogs. He's out of town, and I also meet his sister's dogs, at her residence, she's also out of town, but I have some chai there. Turns out I've met two very amazing people who are taking care not only of the Dalai Lamas dogs, but the street dogs of McLeod Ganj. In a very short time they have started a sterilization and inoculation program that has made a very visible difference.
I mention my delightful dog "Espressa" and it turns out they know her well. She had been hit by a car and was with them in recovery for a full three weeks. She is fully recovered and now sterilized, but I can't help but fear for her well being. Strange, it is through attachments that we may take actions of compassion, love and care. Yet it is also attachment that can bring us misery, suffering and illusion... but in the mean time ...we carry on.