Free Tibetan Foothold by Dervla Murphy

fate – not without protest, but in a manner which tacitly admitted defeat – and the number of attempted escapes was much reduced. The whole operation is certainly a classic example of ‘being cruel to be kind’ and one can hardly blame the ayahs for resenting the amount of additional pain inflicted on their charges. Yet already the Tibetan genius for making the best of a situation is showing itself. Today some of the victims, while sitting four at a time in the potassium tub, discovered that it was fun to pour mugs of purple water over each other’s heads. But I’m afraid that we workers do not enjoy the performance as we bend for hours over a tub, getting soaked to the skin and slipping on the soapy stone floor, amidst shrieking, writhing, naked little bodies whose number never seems to grow less – until at last the blessed moment comes when the final contingent is in and we realise that there is no longer an immediate replacement for every child we have washed.
18 AUGUST
    Sunday again, so I’ve time to luxuriate in a long entry without losing sleep! I waited till today to describe our visit to the theatre on the 14th – an improbable recreation hereabouts, but the group known somewhat formidably as ‘The Tibetan Refugees’ Cultural Association’s Drama Party’ has its headquarters near Macleod Ganj and occasionally musical plays are staged to entertain the locally settled Tibetans. During the monsoon such performances are infrequent, as the audience sits on strips of matting in the open air, but on Wednesday we had word sent us that a classical and a modern play would be staged that evening and after supper we set off to walk round the mountain to the theatre.
    Dancing and singing were the main recreations in Tibet, as anyone can deduce from the spontaneous skill of the average refugee in these arts. So strong is the national impulse to dance that many centuries ago it became interwoven with the national adaptation of Buddhism and most people have heard of the lengthy ritual dances – often inaccurately called ‘Devil Dances’ – of the Lamas. The legendary origin of these dances was a ‘thunderbolt dance in the skies’ of the Guru Padma Sambhava when he had exorcised all evil influences from the site chosen for the first Tibetan monastery at Samye. Since that date it seems that the study of the esoteric Tantric texts has been accompanied by a dramatising of their teaching through sounds, postures and rhythmic movements of great variety. These ceremonial dances are as numerous as the texts, and each sect of Tibetan Buddhism uses its own forms, emblems, masks and figures. Obviously such dances could never be understood without a considerable knowledge of the exceedingly complex philosophy which they were evolved to express. Many of them were originally severe mental and physical disciplines through which men attempted to reach a state of supreme mystical exaltation and – as in ancient Greece and Egypt – only the initiated could witness or participate in these rituals. But now they are publicly performed on special occasions and in the majority of cases their symbolism is not fully understood even by the Lama dancers themselves.
    In a sense, therefore, the peasant folk-dances and songs are at present a more vital and genuine part of Tibetan culture than the stylised, semi-meaningless monastery dances. Up to the time of the Chinese invasion these folk-arts were richly alive and always developing throughout the country. Just as Ireland or England have their village hurling or cricket teams, who play in regional championships, so Tibet had her village dancers and singers, who gathered about once a month in a chosen village to stage a competition. Characteristically, there were no prizes, nor was there any cult of individual ‘star’ performers – the winner was simply the village whose team received the most enthusiastic applause. During the festival of the Tibetan New Year – which falls on the day