During our first full week of classes we went up to Lower Dharamsala for a show. We didn’t know a whole lot about it going in, except that it was organized by some Tibetan independence activists and that there was going to be food at some point. But somehow most of us were still surprised by what we saw.

After a short drive we arrived at the location during what I know for a fact is the hardest rain I have ever experienced. I’ve been caught in intense Pacific Northwest rain before, but this was an entire other level of wetness. I could literally feel the weight of the rain droplets pushing me down, like a full-body shower. We went down some sketchy steps that were themselves basically a small river and finally made it into someone’s house, utterly soaked up to the knees and in every other place that wasn’t 100% waterproof. Some of us had parents who made them bring gigantic winter coats, and were much better off because of it. Thanks guys.

The place we had entered after we had stumbled down the stairs felt like a bunker straight out of a war movie. The ceilings were low, sloping downward towards the wall at the edges. There was basically one big space and then small kitchen and bathroom areas, and all of the walls were hidden by stacks of political and philosophical books and covered with political and propaganda posters and flyers. Overall, it’s a place you could spend a whole lot of time exploring—or perhaps looking for something you’ve lost.

But this was not the site of the main event, so before long we transitioned to a larger venue. We entered a small room with maybe 25 other people packed in that didn’t have a stage but did have a large canvas propped up on one side.

This is the point in the story where I am going to drop the ball, because I failed to jot down the names of the people hosting us. Some of them may or may not be very prominent in the free Tibet movement. But I can try to describe what basically happened, and let you decide for yourselves whether or not to be impressed. 

The host began by introducing each of the performers, and then everyone in the audience including our group. I think he did this for two reasons. First, many of the people in the audience were also involved in the same cause through various organizations or independent activities. Second, doing so really brought people into the community of the space as well as the performance itself. It was a performance, but as participants we were just as responsible for the atmosphere and for fulfilling the purposes of the event as the performers.

Here’s how the show went. One artist was working on the giant painting on the wall, where everyone could see. At the same time, other performers would play traditional songs, sing, dance, or read poetry in front. All of these parts were in service to the cause either in theme or in tone. But they also did very different things. Some lamented sad situations from the past, while others joked about breakups. Some tried to invent new styles of expression while others stuck to traditional cultural standards. There were moments when the songs and the artists’ movements seemed to blend together wonderfully, but also times when the combinations were overwhelming, like when the painting, poetry reading, music, and dancing were all happening at the same time and as an observer-participant I literally could not take it all in at once.

Photo Credit: Tyler Sit

Overall it was an experience unlike anything I’ve ever had before, and I have to admit I’m not quite sure how I felt about the whole thing. But I will say that at this event I witnessed a strong manifestation of something that I had only sensed intuitively up until this point in the trip: the immense sadness and hope, pain and determination, destruction and creativity that this somewhat motley but still deeply connected community in exile have been fighting to cultivate. I think that maybe the point of it was not so much for viewers to understand, but simply to witness what was happening and remember.

Afterwards, we moved back to the same house that we had initially entered for what I have to say was one of the most delicious meals I’ve had so far—spicy potatoes and rice—and the first alcohol we’ve seen since Delhi, which I think was basically warm apple cider with spliced fruit and rum in it. Delicious food and drink to warm our toes before we went back out into the monsoon and up the waterfall stairs to our cabs, returning to where we had come from to sleep.