Tibet is often vividly in the news for many reasons. At these times, my mind goes back to one special young Tibetan, who made a profound impact on my life.
In Lhasa where I was born, the Jokhang Temple is the sacred heart of Tibet. It is the spiritual heartland for all Tibetan Buddhists. It was built in the year AD and is the site where ceremonies of initiation have taken place for all the Dalai Lamas and Panchen Lamas, including our present Dalai Lama.
I left Tibet when I was 5 years old. In 2003 I was fortunate to be able to go back and visit my ancestral homeland as a tourist. I visited the Jokhang Temple several times and felt for myself the intense feeling of being in the centre of deep wisdom borne from ancient culture.
One special morning, I was amongst hundreds of Tibetans who had gone to make pilgrimmage. To await my appointment time to enter, I walked around outside taking in the numerous market stalls selling rich hues of colourful prayer flags, incense and paper wind horses available to be offered in homage by pilgrims.I felt a tug on my sleeve.
I turned and saw a boy dressed in a mish-mash of western clothes and behind him at a distance, stood an elderly Tibetan couple both working their prayer wheels, and dressed in old and faded traditional Tibetan clothes. They were, however, smiling proudly and protectively and were nodding encouragement to the boy.
The boy cleared his throat and said, “I want to speak English”. I said okay, knelt down to his height and said let’s begin. He whipped out a small red notebook from behind his back, and started with..
“My name is Tashi. What is your name?”
“My name is Pemma. I am very pleased to meet you.”
“I am 10 years old. What is your age?”
From me, “Oh, I am 21 years old….!”
And on we went with him asking me what country I lived in, what was the weather like there, how many children did I have, etc. for approximately 10 questions.
In the pause at the end, he took another deep breath, and whipped out the notebook from behind his back and began again …”My name is Tashi….”
We did two another two rounds of this, when I was called that it was time to go into the Jokhang Temple.
I felt at a loss to know how best to conclude our English practice interaction, so I clumsily took out my purse and said, “I have to go now, but would you like me to give you some money?”
He looked right back at me, “I don’t want your money. I want to practice English!”
In the following silence where I felt as if all time stood still, the purposeful brown eyes looking back at me, were those of a wise old man looking deep into my soul.
Then, he took his little red book out again and said, “My name is Tashi….”
I often think of Tashi. I never saw him again. Tashi would now be 20 years old and I wonder how his life is today, in Lhasa. Most especially I remember, with great gratitude, what that 10 year old boy taught me about humility.
