Remembering The Indomitable Palden Gyatso (1933-2018): By Bhuchung D Sonam

[Peter Terpstra]

Remembering The Indomitable Palden Gyatso (1933-2018): By Bhuchung D Sonam
Phayul[Friday, November 30, 2018 18:33]

n the summer of 2005, Indian writer Pankaj Mishra and a few of us went to
see monk Palden Gyatso at his room near Kirti Monastery in Dharamsala.
Pankaj was writing a piece on Tibet for the New York Times and wanted to
talk to the former political prisoner, who was incarcerated for 33-years in
Chinese jails. I had read his story in Fire Under the Snow: Testimony of a
Tibetan Prisoner, which he co-authored with the scholar, Professor Tsering
Shakya. This is arguably the best account of Tibetan prison experiences.

During nearly two-hours of conversations, Palden was graciously serving us
tea and khabsey while at the same time talking about his horrific
experiences in jail. He made sure that I translated everything and repeated
important events. His narrative held no hatred and bitterness against the
Chinese; and in fact he made it a point to talk at great length about a
young Chinese – the “fair-faced one” as Palden referred this guard – who
secretly gave Palden Gyatso a few extra morsels to eat at the height of the
hungry years (1958-62) during which Mao unleashed his Great Leap Forward
campaign that, according to Frank Dikotter’s book, Mao’s Great Famine,
killed over 40 million people across China.

Palden Gyatso had immense compassion and fierce willpower but most
importantly he had deep humility. After talking non-stop about eating mice,
worms, grass and chewing his leather shoes in prisons, he would pause to
look at me and ask: “Bhuchung la, am I right?” as if I – who had never
spent a day in jail – would know better.

In Palden’s own words:

“I completed my prison terms in 1975 but was not allowed to go home. I was
sent to a labour camp; and prison life resumed. In 1979 I escaped; I put up
posters calling for Tibetan independence. I was caught and sentenced to
nine more years in prison.

“We had to do filthy work, including the handling of human excrement to grow
vegetables. A prison official poked me with an electric cattle-prod, poured
boiling water over me. For 24 years I was never allowed a single visit with
my relatives.”

On 25 August 1992, Palden Gyatso was released after 33 years in prison. A
fortnight later, he escaped into exile. About a week after arriving in
Dharamsala, he had an audience with the His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It was
a lifelong dream fulfilled. “I sobbed uncontrollably,” he said. Palden also
recalled that the Dalai Lama “looked much older than when he had left
Tibet.”

Since his escape across the Himalayan mountains, he toured all over the
world narrating his experiences to garner international support for Tibet’s
struggle for freedom. Among the hundreds of testimonies he gave included a
hearing by the UN Human Rights Commission in Geneva in 1995 and the
inaugural speech at the Oslo Freedom Forum in 2009. For his tireless work,
he was awarded the John Humphrey Freedom Award from the Canadian human
rights group Rights & Democracy in 1998.

Over the years, we bumped into each other many times, mostly in Dharamsala
and occasionally in Maj-nu-ka-Tilla Tibetan camp in Delhi. He would firmly
shake my hand and talk – always standing – about his tours and how tired he
was getting. “You, the younger generation, must carry on with freedom
struggle,” he said.

In October last year, a friend and I bumped into Palden Gyatso in the middle
of bustling McLeod Ganj. He was walking alone and looking rather frail. As
usual he shook our hands warmly and said, “I don’t have much time left. May
be just a few months. Do come and see me.” Behind us taxis honked. A group
of young hip-looking Punjabis were busy taking selfies. A huge garbage
truck blocked the main road. The square was packed. But when we requested
him to take some pictures together, he was more than gracious. Raising a
scrawny hand in the air he shouted ‘Rangwang!’ as the camera flashed.
Before he walked away, Palden Gyatso once again repeated, “Do come and see
me. I have a room at Kirti Monastery.”

We went to his room at the monastery a few times, but missed him each time
due to his constant travels to talk about Tibet, the last one being to the
US in September this year! Last week, when I met Jigme from TYC – who had
gone to see Palden Gyatso a day earlier – and asked him whether it was
alright to go and see him. Jigme told me that it would be great. “He is
physically weak but mentally still very sharp,” Jigme said. But by being
uselessly busy and sang-gyang nang-gyang, I missed meeting Palden Gyatso.
The finality of death cannot be reversed. I will have to nurse the remorse
in my heart.

The crucial thing that we can – and must do – for our hero is to continue
with the struggle for freedom. As Tsering Shakya so poignantly writes in
his preface for Fire Under The Snow, ‘[i]t is hard for colonial rulers to
understand that a power station, a new sports stadium, the glittering
lights of discos and five-star hotel, do not restore a people’s dignity or
allow them to reclaim their heritage. The young protester has not forgotten
his parents’ suffering and their deprivation,’ the baton has been passed
and we have to carry it on the path to freedom. As with the recent demise
of Gyari Lodoe Gyaltsen, the passing away of Palden Gyatso ushers in an end
of an era. Their experience and wisdom can never be replaced but these can
certainly be followed up with innovative ideas for creative nonviolent
resistance.

The suffering in the heart of each person on the high plateau can be
assuaged only when we carry out this resistance – with utmost persistent
and fierce urgency – and freedom is installed in Tibet.

Adieu Palden Gyatso-la. We pray that you will be reborn quickly again as a
dong-mar bhoe-pa on the roof of the world. The fight is on. You must
return!

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