Sunday mornings were most lazy in Paljorling khimtsang, but this particular morning was a long drain on her dread. Chime wakes up with a thud of her memory jerk having realized she had wet her bed again. It was the same old dream — some urgent event, an exhaustion and a light that shone
‘The injuries those people have were inflicted by you. I sense that you haven’t been a good man. They are the victims of your deeds.’
If you want to catch Thebrang, the genie who lives in caves, then you have to keep playing the Sho game as long as possible.
Us lonely women are shape-shifters, taking turns being glorified and demonized by ourselves and by others. We strive to love like gods even when we cry like beasts,
He reads the letter again, slowly absorbing each word. Athar blurts, “What’s the news, genla? Don’t worry, we are all here for you, the entire school is here for you.” “They want me to get married”, says Thupten.
He was driving in front of him an ox and a donkey laden with manure.
Each man was wearing a tall hat made from paper, and a square plank hung on his chest from the neck. On the plank were each man’s crime and a red cross. One of the men was your father.
Death does not need a licence to announce itself. It is an independent agent answerable to our karma alone.
“May you complete the work left incomplete. May you be successful in the struggle and take His Holiness the Dalai Lama back to a free Tibet.”
Lhasa is no longer the land of happiness and purity, the land of prosperity and sanctity. Who knows who its future will depend on? Where, exactly, is the hope of its future?
“How can I not return? Our home is there. If we all leave, to whom will Tibet be left?” … Later while Norway — the symbol of the free world — was gradually left behind, two streams of tears silently ran down Nyima Tsering’s bony cheeks.
An image of my children finishing school and reading colourful books, just like the young man, with such glasses on, while they come home waiting for jobs.