Hunger and hope..

17th May 2011

On the anniversary of the Tibetan uprising day this year (March 10th), I took home a small flag and presented it to a 6 year old die-hard Star Wars fan; he was palpably moved by its colors, kept exclaiming that it looked so beautiful. He was clear that he would protect it and will be the first thing that he would bring out of the house if there's a fire. I then told him that it is the Tibetan national flag and the eyes grew wider with an even more obvious thrill and satisfaction over his spontaneous intent. He (in his strong and tangible wisdom for the world) asked me to take $10 from his piggy. He urged me to pass it on to the young Tibetan (that is, whenever I get my act together and finally go to one of their Wednesday vigils in Harvard Square); to him, the $10 would help bring it up to $300 and then Tibet can be set totally free! I tried to present a positive smile while my mind was screaming ‘Yeah right’ and we moved on from there! We still refer to the flag every now and then; it sits on the kitchen shelf with other ‘umaachis’ (Gods!). He recently expressed irritation at my thoughtlessness to have tacked it on the wall, in the kitchen, of all places (first possible location for a fire, right?). Now he would need a chair to climb up and yank it off the wall and run!

Here in May, Boston still refuses to leave its cold (dis)comforts and persists at around an average of 13 degrees Celcius; while Jantar Mantar (Delhi) famous for Maharaja Jai Singh II's brilliant observatory, stays infamous for its shade-less sweltering heat in yet another scorching summer. It is also haloed ground for getting the government’s amnesia-like attention on different serious needs and causes; was most recently in international press for Anna Hazare’s crusade for cleansing out nation-wide corruption. In the past 3 weeks, I have been silently reading snippets on what has been going on there. Three young Tibetans have been on a hunger strike to beg the flawed attention of the world, on the hapless plight of monks (I hear there are about 2500 of them) in Kirti monastery in Tibet, left with no support and drastic food shortages. Neither in my wildest imagination nor in my shameful ignorance for world politics, will I ever understand a military lockdown of a monastery - a Buddhist monastery of all the places. Come on now, give me a bloody break!

Reading Tenzin Tsundue’s posts on the status of his friends on hunger strike, I am so taken by their determination despite not getting much of the limelight that the cause deserves. In the past week, I was mad at my pessimistic thoughts: ‘oh these poor men, what’s going to happen, they are probably going to die and no one will notice’. But yesterday and today, I wake up with a different feeling that this does warrant attention. Yes it does, to the fact that we cannot afford to pick and choose causes only if there is an international economic impact or a concern for strange ‘bilateral- tie’ relations. Random events in history cross my thoughts in no consistent or chronological pattern. It was a few years ago when certain brand of toys coming from China were recalled from the markets here, due to possible lead contaminants in their plastics. My cluelessness on international trade and the politics of global consumerism did get a break when the local thrift stores were refusing to accept our used toys as donations. It was less than a century ago when Gandhiji (back now in existence for strange personal sexual preference reasons; of all the things, seriously, do I care?) caused a national stir on shunning English clothing; it did have a lasting impact as it spurred the masses to act for their nation’s liberation..

But look at this tiny piece of land called Lhasa and the provinces in Tibet: beautiful lands, culture, mountains and valleys where nomads and yaks roam in a state of perpetual Zen. What can they possibly give the world.. oil, jobs, fabric, coffee, weapons? Giving compassion is just not enough in political parlance. So, 'what can they really give', is perhaps what the developed nations ask in non-existent whispers. This perhaps is silent exploitation of a different, indescribable sort; the one where we (the so called 'developed' and 'industrialized') simply look away. But really, is it fair that a cause as karmic as the cultural liberation of Lhasa is beyond the negotiating powers of the U.N. or the stronghold of the U.S.’ international policies? The interdependency politics in the world today needs to be seriously re-examined before we lose our faceless battle with our conscience. And that for sure will be a hard one to recover from, for the rest of one’s life.

When I hear of people wanting to immolate themselves or die on a hunger strike, I am struck by how they feel that their lives are not worth living anymore as nothing is being done for the greater good. I simply cannot imagine how a community will not support me if I were to fight for some right for my child. And to reflect this within the larger scheme of things: is it fair for 3 young men to take this on themselves as no one else in power would? Their land and culture has been systematically denigrated and we expect them to be grateful to us for giving them refuge in our soil. Yes, in return, they show us nothing but compassion which is so central to the core of their spiritually guided lives. How much longer are they going to be refugees who need to renew their registration cards to live in Daramsala and elsewhere in other camps across the country? How many more Losars to be spent looking dreamily across the mountains in hope that’s unevenly mixed with futility?

The world has gone through so much in the past year and that does bring in hope. The ripples of change will have to make small waves across the continents and soon there has to be a massive tide. But we need to figure out how to ensure the steady flow of these ripples and chart their course into the ocean. May riding this tide together (here and now) serve to lead the arduous way, so we can live to see a 6 year old’s recently cherished possession flying high in the mountains and valleys of the three traditional states/provinces. Ram Prasad Bismil’s ‘Sarfaroshi ki tamannaa... ’ serves as a perfect 'inner-mind' score as I struggle to stay conscious and hopeful. The little flag continues to stare at us in the kitchen every night at dinnertime, and for the 23rd day of their hunger.

~ Sowmya Sunderarajan

Sowmya is a rehab counselor 
during daylight 
and a life searcher 
through nightlight,
with solace from words.