Tiger Tales

Finding Sanctuary

The town of Kushalnagar in the south Indian state of Karnataka has been the home of Tibetan refugees since the 1960s. The Tibetans have literally changed the landscape, introducing agriculture and building Buddhist monasteries, reports Stuart Forster/The Cover Story

It’s a long way from the snow and mountains of Tibet to the south Indian state of Karnataka, deep within the Tropic of Cancer. Yet Karnataka now serves as the home to over 40,000 people of Tibetan origin. And more than 15,000 of those exiles live in settlements near the town of Kushalnagar, 250km southwest of the state capital, Bangalore.

Since the late 1950s, more than 85,000 Tibetans have found ways out of Chinese-occupied Tibet and into India. At first, as refugees in northern India, the Tibetans hoped for a swift return to their homeland. However, it soon became apparent that their absence might be prolonged, so the Tibetan authorities in exile sought opportunities to establish communities in which their language, traditions and religious culture could be maintained. With that in mind, they looked for land throughout the whole of India, and not just in the mountainous border region.

The government of Karnataka gave the Tibetans pockets of land near the towns of Hunsur, Kollegal, Mungod and Kushalnagar. Settlement of the latter began in the early 1960s and camps were quickly established. Good husbandry and hard work helped the Tibetans to transform the arid, low-yield land of their district into productive soil. After their initial struggle to establish a reliable source of food and income, the Tibetans could look towards improving their surroundings. These days the settlements are far more than simple camps. Concrete housing, schools, temples and shops have all been built. Interestingly though, the use of the term “camp” endures, perhaps implying that the settlers view their current abode as only a temporary solution.

In all, 20 camps exist around Kushalnagar. They include the monastery of Tashi Lhunpo, which is traditionally associated with the Panchen Lama, and the monasteries of Nyingmapa, Namdroling and Sera Jey. Fascinated by the idea of catching a glimpse of traditional Tibetan life while in southern India, I decided to plan a trip there.

While reading about the Tibetan Buddhist monasteries in Karnataka, I almost disregarded a line that, seemingly incidentally, mentioned that all non-Indians must apply for a PAP before visiting the Tibetan settlements. Google quickly informed me that PAP is the abbreviation commonly used in India for “Protected Area Permit” – a formal permission required to access places such as border areas and tribal settlements. I was surprised that a permit was required but followed the complicated application procedure, which I was warned, is absolutely necessary and can take as long as three months.

After the time-consuming administrative preparation and a bumpy journey along the Mysore-Madikeri highway, I am glad to finally see a couple of Tibetan faces in the village of Bylekuppe, where the turning for the Namdroling Monastery is located. “Entry of Foreigners without PAP restricted,” announces a sign, threateningly adding that a “five-year imprisonment with fine” awaits anyone who takes a look around without having gone through the rigamarole of applying for a permit. A mild tremor of apprehension strikes me. Have I remembered my permit? I pat a couple of empty pockets and then it is third time lucky. Yes, there it is.

As I enter the monastery complex, a couple of elderly women wearing the traditional striped apron costumes of Tibet totter in my direction, carrying prayer beads. “Tashi delek,” they say to me in greeting. Tibetan. I later learn that this means “may peace be with you”. Monks wearing maroon robes over their yellow singlets walk towards a temple bearing a colourful representation of the wheel of life on its roof. The sun is beating down, just as it had done in not-too-distant Mysore, but an atmosphere of calm seems to reign – no honking of horns or buzz of traffic to disturb the peace. Even the minimal breeze fails to make the prayer flags flutter.

I walked towards the Golden Temple and paused to admire an ornate golden door knob, decorated with Buddhist legends, resplendent against the deep red of the door. Inside, the scene was even more impressive -- a 18m-high golden Buddha is flanked by statues of Padmasambhava and Amitava Buddha. A monk performed prayers under the statue of Buddha and I stopped to observe his earnest rituals. Drawn by the golden statues and intricate dragon pillar in the centre of the temple, my eyes initially failed to pick up on the detailed wall paintings -- Tantric Buddhist art, exquisitely prepared. Much of the symbolism represents the perennial struggle between good and evil, but the sexual poses, fearsome-looking demons, and representations of death mean that onlookers can linger on the details for long periods.

That said, the sound of gongs and the blowing of conch shells draws me away from the detail of the paintings and prompts me to head next door, to the prayer hall. I stand in the lobby outside the hall and watch as monks, some still young boys, pray. A few pairs of eyes flick up to meet mine. Momentarily, I feel like a gawping intruder. A number of the monks read from stacks of broad rectangular sheets bearing angular letters from the Tibetan script. The rows of shaven heads, leading deep into the prayer hall, make for a memorable sight.

Across from the prayer hall, at the information stall and bookshop, a Westerner in knee-length shorts stands hunched over the glass display counter. It turns out that he is an Australian, visiting India on business and taking the opportunity to explore the countryside.

“So how did you get the PAP so quickly?” I ask.

“Ah, those things? I saw the sign on the way in, but I didn’t know I needed one until I got here. Since I was already here, I reckoned I might as well come in and take a look about anyway. I’m only going to be here a half-hour, so I’m hoping that no-one’ll ask,” he confesses.

Wishing him luck, I head away from Namdroling and over to Sera Jey, a short drive away. The original Sera Jey Monastery, a key seat of Mahayana Buddhist learning, was founded in the early 15th century. Sera Jey College was established in 1466 and, in time, had become a leading institution of spiritual and philosophical learning. In 1959, at the time of its destruction, a total of 5,629 monks were enrolled at the monastery. Tibetan leaders in exile complain that Sera Jey is but one of more than 6,000 monasteries to have been destroyed since their country came under Chinese control – a single action in the cultural and spiritual genocide of their nation.

Therefore, the resurrection of Sera Jey Monastery has special significance for Tibetans. Its revival was a conscious step in nurturing the Tibetan culture while in exile.

The Tibetan language and literature are taught at the college. Advanced studies are offered in subjects relating to philosophy, dialectics and Buddhist practice. The monastery’s library holds an important collection of books and manuscripts. Many of the texts were carried by refugees as they escaped over their country’s mountainous border.

I pay a visit to Sera Jey’s prayer hall. Shrouded by curtains, the hall is large enough to seat 3,500 monks. Only a couple of monks, cleaning and tidying, are there while I take a look around. I can’t help but think that, from a visitor’s perspective, Namdroling is a far more impressive place to visit but I am still struck by the earnestness with which they complete their tasks.

Back outside, a group of shaven-headed Tibetan boys walk past, grinning and chatting among themselves. Presumably they have finished their lessons for the day. They laugh and intermittently knock each other with mock punches.

They wear the robes of monks but act as children might anywhere in the world. I think it unlikely that any of the boys would yet have seen Tibet and suppose they must be second-, perhaps even third-generation exiles. Perhaps one day they will get the chance to return to their spiritual homeland and take with them the learning and culture that has been kept alive in the monasteries and Tibetan settlements of south India.

FIND IT:

The settlements are in Kushalnagar, about 250km from Bangalore via Mysore. From Mysore, take the Mysore-Madikeri Highway to Bylekuppe. Madikeri, 42km from Bylekuppe, is the main city in the coffee-producing area of Coorg, nestled in the Western Ghats. A number of hotels and quality homestays are located in and around Madikeri.

Tiger Airways flies to Bangalore daily from Singapore. Book your flights at www.tigerairways.com