Integrity Score 190
No Records Found
No Records Found
Tibet, high on the plateau, has always seemed far away in the imagination. Today, it arguably appears farther than ever under restrictions imposed by China’s rule. That feeling of distance is one that Tibetan exiles grapple with constantly. For them, writing about Tibet becomes, as poet and writer Tenzin Dickie reflects, “a literary exercise in recovering the lost land”.
In this new collection, The Penguin Book of Modern Tibetan Essays, Dickie has brought together an extraordinary group of Tibetan writers — some writing from abroad, some from within, yet all bound by a shared sense of loss and a shared search for home. “To speak as Tibetans and to write as Tibetans,” Dickie reflects, “is to continually recreate the Tibetan nation”.
Tibet for them “is our open wound which refuses to close”, which infuses modern Tibetan literature with what Dickie calls “the twin strands of occupation and exile”. While that may be true, where this collection succeeds is in going beyond the occupation-exile binary and painting a layered portrait of what it means to be in exile.
Beijing-based writer Tsering Woeser, who has written fearlessly about Tibet’s loss of culture and identity at the cost of being under ceaseless close surveillance in Beijing, contributes a fascinating essay on the life of Garpon La, an exponent of Gar, a Tibetan court song and dance, who joined the Dalai Lama’s troupe aged 9, and like many other Tibetan (and Chinese) artists, performers and intellectuals, would be sent to do hard labour in the Mao era. Later rehabilitated, he would find his way to Dharamshala for an extraordinary and emotional reunion — and one last performance — for the Dalai Lama himself.
Lhashamgyal writes from Beijing, reminding us that exile isn’t only about geography and is a state of mind that consumes even those still in China. Lhasa is only a flight away, but still remains a home out of reach, increasingly unrecognisable. “The home that they so dream of recedes to such a distance that return becomes impossible,” he reflects, “and this is the great tragedy of the exile.”