WHITE CLOUDS – CONTENTS

Clouds Overhead, Sailing Sleepily
Stupas
At Peace. Presence Of Mind
Land Of My Ancestors. Sacred And Pure.
What’s Left To Do When Two Friends Meet
How Fares The World?
The Sluggish Sixties Saw Me In School.
At The Break Of Dawn
We Don’t Memorialize Our Dead.
If Only The Chinese Knew Their Place.
Sunny Days, Smiling Faces …
A Millennium Has Ended .
Some Days I Despair …
If Only Birds Could Speak …
Another Dawn. Another Day.
Chorten. Stupa.
Kailash. Gang Rinpoche.
Interdependence In Tibet.
Mother India
If You Are Gentle And Joyous
If The Cold Of Winter Wanes …
If You Have A wish. A Goal.
Dreaming Of Kailash
Reflections On A Chorten
Pray Turn The Wheel Of Dharma.
Delhi Is A Blessing In Disguise
Never Give Up So Long As …
Gendun Chophel Birth Extraordinaire.
Tibetan People. My People.
The U.N.O.
The United Nations
Poetry
Buddhism
Gendun Chophel Rinpoche
Whispering To Wayward Winds
Clouds

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 5:19 pm  Leave a Comment  

Clouds Overhead, Sailing Sleepily.

CLOUDS overhead,
Sailing sleepily.
Crossing the Himalayas
Pour down, a gentle blessing
On my country and people
On the Tibetan plateau.

Sun overhead,
Sizzling spiritedly.
Crossing the Himalayas
Radiate warmth and kindness
On my country and people
On the Tibetan plateau.

Winds overhead,
Speeding Swiftly.
Crossing the Himalayas
Lift up the flagging spirits
Of my country and people
On the Tibetan plateau.

Birds overhead,
Flying feverishly.
Crossing the Himalayas
Sing melodies of hope and freedom
On my country and people
On the Tibetan plateau.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 5:15 pm  Leave a Comment  

Stupas

STUPAS. Chorten.
Symbols of my country.
When you see one
Circumambulate it.
Pray for the martyrs
Who’ve selflessly
Sacrificed their lives
For Tibetan freedom
And their Dharmic beliefs.

Prayer wheels. Mani.
Symbols of my country.
When you see one
Turn it reciting mantras.
Be one in spirit
With the anguish
Of my enslaved homeland.

Prayer flags. Lungta.
Symbols of my country.
When you see one
Add a prayer
From your heart
That the Dharma
And Freedom, once again
Flourish in my homeland.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 5:13 pm  Leave a Comment  

At Peace. Presence Of Mind.

AT peace
Presence of mind
Observations
Play with words
Poetry

A thought
Associations
Stretching the mind
Blending logic
And insights
Poetry

Homeland
Present day struggles
Buddhism
The eternal struggle
Raise Lungta banners

Lungta banners
Symbols of
My homeland
And Buddhism
Both merged imperceptibly

Sky
Blue
The vast view perfected

Clouds
White
Pure perception

Fire
Red
Warmth of bodhichitta

Water
Green
The flow of Karma

Earth
Yellow
Firm faith, the basis of all.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 5:10 pm  Leave a Comment  

Land Of My Ancestors. Sacred And Pure.

LAND OF my ancestors.
Sacred and pure.
Such beauty. Great majesty.
Power and potential.
Craved and cherished
By the gods above,
Naga spirits below
And earthlings in between.
Roof of the world.
Snowland of Tibet.

Land so high,
Scraping the skies.
The heavens so near
The gods came down
To earth on ropes.
Mingled with humans
And ruled the land.
The land above
All earthly dominions.

Sky so blue.
So open.So deep.
Not a cloud in sight.
Fathomless grandeur.
Teaching hermits
The unsurpassed,
Unobstructed view.

Air so pure.
So rare. Unpolluted.
Ever rejuvenating
Worn out physiques.
Always refreshing
Our clouded minds.

Water so clean,
The abode of spirits.
So clear. So tasty.
The delight of tongues.
Quenching thirsts.
Relieving pain.
Purifying all
It comes in contact.

Soil so blessed.
So rich. So fertile.
Abundant harvest
Scaring away famines.
Grass so lush and luxuriant
Where wild beasts,
And other Unique creatures
And lifeforms thrive.

*

LAND OF my ancestors.
Sacred and pure.
Such beauty. Great majesty.
Power and potential.
Craved and cherished
By the gods above,
Naga spirits below
And earthlings in between.
Roof of the world.
Snowland of Tibet.

Mountains so high.
So tall and mighty.
The abode of gods
And guardian deities.
Many unconquered.
Most unpredictable.
Source of our rivers.
Our lifeblood. Our lifeline.

Hills so pleasant.
Decorated with forts
And monastic encampments.
Gentle passes
The land connecting.
Adorned with cairns
And prayer flags
In constant flutter.
Ki ki so so lha gyal lo.

Forests so thick.
Trees so sturdy and fine.
Untouched. Unlogged
For centuries on end.
The home of pandas
And other rare beasts.
Hunters despised.
Their harmless victims
Left free to run and roam.

Rivers so swift,
Rough and raging.
Head rivers of Asia.
Disturbed, a terror
But generally kind.
Feeding millions.
Relieving the hunger
Of Asian populations.

Grasslands so green.
Plains so free and vast.
Where spirits soar
Antelopes roam
And kyangs in droves
Enchanted, make merry
And race with the wind.

*

LAND OF my ancestors.
Sacred and pure.
Such beauty. Great majesty.
Power and potential.
Craved and cherished
By the gods above,
Naga spirits below
And earthlings in between.
Roof of the world.
Snowland of Tibet.

Ancestors so brave.
So strong. Unconquered.
Courageous. Word-bound.
Masters of the earth
And spirit realms.
Humans with valour.
Skilled and fearless.
Protected by guardians.
Unchallenged in
The four directions.

Rulers descended
From the heavens above.
So worthy. So clever.
And farsighted too.
Dharma kings
So powerful, so kind.
Enlightened. All knowing.
Peerless. Incomparable.
Mighty sovereigns of Tibet.

Common folk so lively.
So warm. So true.
Faces aglow
With perpetual smiles.
Courageous in adversity.
Restrained in prosperity.
Long-suffering. Resolute.
Generous to a fault
Ethics and endeavour
Without limits remain.

Women so wonderful.
So pretty. So charming.
Affectionate mothers
And caring wives.
Sharing tasks as equals.
Keeping traditions alive.
Graceful and unassuming
Yet unsubmissive.
Symbols of spirits free.

Saints so many.
So loving. So wise
In thought, word
And in every deed.
So free of self.
Cherishing others always.
Truly Awakened beings
Without compare.
Remain with us.
Guide us, we pray.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 5:08 pm  Leave a Comment  

What’s Left To Do When Two Friends Meet

WHAT’S left to do
When two friend’s meet
Except the retelling
Of boring bravados,
Future hopes
And awful ambitions.

Time – inanimate,
Free of prejudice
Always tells the truth.
But we, refuse to heed
The tell-tale signs
Of greying hairs
And our inflexible
Postures and attitudes.
We continue to behave
As if our youth and strength
Had never departed.

Reason and logic – inanimate,
Free of prejudice
Always tell the truth.
But we refuse to silence
Our fruitless hatred,
Our desirous attachments
And present misconceptions.
Instead we bask in our
Hopelessly impractical objectives.

Children – animate yet pure,
Free of prejudice
Always glimpse the truth.
But we, refuse to honour
Their advice and pure perceptions.
Instead we drown in our
Drinks and past glories
Quietly requesting the kids
To turn a blind eye
To our friend’s liabilities.

What’s left to do
When two friends meet
Except to give each other
A little shoulder support
And some space to voice
Our fears and demonic compulsions.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 5:00 pm  Leave a Comment  

How Fares The World?

HOW FARE’S the world?
It’s anybody’s guess.
It’s pretty relative.
That’s for sure.
If this is your line
You wouldn’t be wrong.

Much depends on, who you are
And circumstances too.
A Wall-street trader
May say it’s fine today
But a beggar in Bombay
May not toe this line.

Today Dalal street is booming.
Tomorrow it could spell gloom.
A bunch of broke brokers could crack
Attempting to avoid impending doom.
How fare’s the world? Depends as much
On time as on money and mind.

A girl who’s won a beauty crown
Or a boy buoyed by love. How perfect
The world would seem in their eyes.
Yet in sadness and anger, how dull
And distressing everything seems.
Thus moods do shape perceptions.

For saints who revel in ethics,
Love and pure perceptions
All the world’s a heavenly realm.
All beings full of potential.
Transmutation’s a reality.
All is full of hope and possibility.

How fare’s the world?
It’s anybody’s guess.
It’s pretty relative. That’s for sure.
If you’re a saint. Restrained. Compassionate.
Pure and Aware. All the world’s
Just a perfect place to be.
Of this you can be sure.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 4:58 pm  Leave a Comment  

The Sluggish Sixties Saw Me In School …

THE sluggish sixties
saw me in school
while my people perished
en masse under Chinese brutality..
How innocent we were
thinking, we’d get rid of them.
Time flies.
Tashi Delek
till we meet again
in freedom in Lhasa.

The dreadful seventies
saw me in college
while my people destroyed and lost
tried to make sense of it all.
How enthusiastic we were
wanting to repay the Chinese
in their own coin – violence.
Time flies.
Tashi Delek
till we meet again
in freedom in Lhasa.

The doubtful eighties
saw me in professional work
while my people languished
dazed and dejected,
tried to make a new beginning.
How confused and distraught we were
figuring out Dharamsala’s position.
Time flies.
Tashi Delek
till we meet again
in freedom in Lhasa.

The hopeful nineties
saw me getting heavier and older
while my people recovered
inspite of terror campaigns,
torture and midnight knocks.
How muddled and resigned I was
to my fate in a foreign land.
Time flies.
Tashi Delek
till we meet again
in freedom in Lhasa.

A new millennium has dawned
I now know what I have to do
while my people revive. Unite.
Refuse to toe the Chinese line.
Refuse to sinicise at any cost.
This is our millennium of freedom.
Of this I’m totally convinced.
Time flies.
Tashi Delek
till we meet again
in freedom in Lhasa, next year.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 4:55 pm  Leave a Comment  

At The Break Of Dawn …

AT THE break of dawn
it’s always pleasant to hear
the VOA Tibetan Service
forecast the weather
for my cherished city Lhasa
in my occupied homeland.

Invariably it goes, “Bright
sunny day. Cloudless skies.”
Pleasant temperatures
and low humidity
comes as an added bonus.

It’s then my memory
transports me back to Tibet.
Forty years back in time,
I’m  one of several kids
sitting cross-legged
on Tibetan cushion mats
in order of seniority.

We are upstairs
on a balcony facing south,
gulping down warm, rich
delicious tsampa paste
without a care in the world.
All the while the early
morning sun shines from the east
warming us and our environs.

I surge forward
forty years in time,
return to the present
and my ambiguous state –
in exile and yet free.
In silence I pray
wishing a return to happiness
for my homeland and people.

May the sun always shine
genially on my country.
May my people’s determination
never waver despite waves
of never ending terror.
May our oppressors see
the light of day, reason
and their ignorant intransigence.

May the sacred vision
of our landscape
and our minds
arise again with clarity
and remain forever
inseparably with us.

May the Interdependent
and sacrosanct relationship
that exist between
the people of Tibet
our revered faith,
our guardian spirits,
our land and waters,
our unique flora and fauna
resurrect and revive
and flourish once again.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 4:51 pm  Leave a Comment  

We Don’t Memorialise Our Dead

WE DON’T memorialise our dead.
Award medals to our braves
Or sing paeans to our heroes.

We don’t ever teach our children.
Tell them our myths and legends
Or inculcate values for them to cherish.

We don’t really respect our Lamas.
Devote ourselves to their welfare
Or put into practice their teachings.

Oh my beloved countrymen.
What a state we’re in today!
Where is our true Tibetaness?

There’s more to life than just our breaths.
More to life than chasing mirages.
More to a Tibetan than just a name.

Your home and lands lie in enemy hands.
Your brethren terrorised by alien commands
And you lie asleep in foreign lands.

And while you sleep contented, ignorantly.
Time is steadily creeping up on us
And the enemy’s sinicising your home and people.

Published in: on Saturday, February 16, 2008 at 4:39 pm  Leave a Comment