HH DL Tenzin Gyatso

Queing

Approximately 7 thousand people attended the teaching of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in Sarnath; this is great but standing in line to get in can take a long time. Since there have been attempts to take His Holiness life, at lease seriously injure him either by Chinese agents or  people under Chinese command, security at teachings is always tight. Most times I can deal with queuing but dealing with the people in the que can be a huge test of patience.

Chenrazig diety of compassion

On day the last day of the teaching His Holiness gave a blessing to the crowd in the form of a ceremony, where the student had to engage in a meditation with visualisation. The blessing ceremony gives the students permission to practice a particular meditation practice which is designed to encourage the practitioners mind to become more compassionate. Of course the 4 days of teaching compliments the mediation practice. Anyway many of the Tibetan and Himalayan peoples love to come for the blessing ceremony and often either skip the teaching or sit and have a picnic and not listen to the teaching. So you can imagine even more people turned up on the last day which meant the security have their work cut out and the que was extra long.
Kiran, my French room mate and I showed up at the teaching ground around 7.30 am. First things first; get a cup of tea in my cup and find the end of the que. That done we had to then endure the onslaught of beggars and sellers.
First there were the local woman from the village with their babies squatting on the path holding out their filthy, torn sari head cover piece to put money in. Many of them have a home and pretend to be beggars in the hope of  getting a few extra rupees. They use their babies as props, often pinching then to cry and then pulling a very sorrowfully face which just pulls at your heart strings. However some of these women are genuine beggars. They may be widows or have left their husband due to abuse and with no home and unable to return to their parents home live on the street. It is just hard to tell  who is in need and who is not because by western standard they are all in need. There are so many women begging if you give to one then you should give to them all. I try and at least look them in the face and give a smile, even some look empathy for them.
The there are the children  who run around  in their bare feet with their hands out pulling on your clothes, running at after you and constantly calling for money. Again who is really in need and who is not. Some of the kids play beggar as a game and I can have some fun with the kids  but again it just so hard to see such poverty and think that these kids have very little hope of ever getting out of poverty. The problem is if you give a kid money he or she will either buy sweets or give it to their parents who may well be booze it away.
Next were the Indian Buddhist monks. They are a rag taggle looking bunch and must be the poorest of any Buddhist Sangha on the planet. Many are from Bangladesh or Bihar and  follow His Holiness where ever he is teaching. Now when monks beg they are supposed to patiently stand, with eyes cast down and accept  whatever they are being given. Unfortunately the disciple or knowledge of the teachings, of these monk is not so good and they stand begging bowls in hand with huge eyes,desperation written all over their face, often fighting with each other over who gets the offering. Of course there are one or two who do not do this but the majority have the habits of beggars but are dressed in monks robes.
Fourth is the disabled people. So many people with missing limbs or blind with leprosy or effected by polio in wheelchairs on crutches or just plain deformed at birth. Again it is hard to see such suffering  but I found that the beggars with disabilities are often the nicest and most patient. They will smile and even chat with you and always say a thank you, many speak different languages; after all they are the professional beggars.
Oh yes and then just as you think your finished with the begging, you get through the security gate and are faced with tables and tables manned by monk and nuns asking for donations for their monastery or nunnery.

So as if dealing with the many hands out with the accompanying facial expression designed to wrench your heart out and get you to dig deep into your wallet  is not enough, there is the pushing and shoving of the crowd. Hey if I were 6 ft tall then no worries but being 4ft 11  it can bet a wee bit annoying even scary at times. The Himalayan and Tibetan people just love to push and shove in line, for them it is a big game. With a    bigger crowd on the last day all semblance of order went out the window; the ladies line was infiltrated by men; the monk and nuns lines were infiltrated by lay people and the special guests had no hope of finding their line. It was one big mosh pit with the security trying their best to maintain order.
It was in many way also a teaching on how selfish people can be and in so many ways funny to watch.
The richer Tibetan ladies in their silks Tupas (dress), gold jewellry with their face full of make up and nose in the air would try to stride past everyone shooing away the beggars as they went. The new-comer Tibetan women with babies strapped to their backs  and smelling of rancid butter used their brute force and ignorance of etiquette to battle their way to the front. Some westerners, with their nose and mouth gaurds to protect them selves from the dust, simply used being western as an excuse to try and skip the que. Then their are the Mongolian who with their Gangas Khan blood  just barrel over everyone regardless of who is ordained or not. The Russians  are not much better. The Taiwanese and Korean groups always came late and would bring their Indian guides/security/servants  to help them barrel through the security gates just before His Holiness started teaching upsetting everyone as they went.
Anyway I started that morning in a very happy mood and with the sun finely out I was very content. However after one hour of being in the que I was emotionally exhausted. I must have said over a thousand Om Mani Padme Hung mantras as I tried to practice patience, given a few rupees here and there to the monks, played with the kids to avoid giving then rupees, talked with the disabled and again a few rupees here and there, made sympathetic faces to the women with children and the elderly, defended my place in line  from intruding monk, nuns, Mongolians, Russians, posh folk and rude westerners and still managed to have a few cups of tea and chat with Karin. By 9 am I was on my cushion with the teaching about to start and I was ready for a nap.  It is tough work attempting patience and generating compassion to difficult sentient beings;  hmmm but is that not the teaching?