The exterior of the temple complex is unassuming, plain concrete and basic colours, in apparent disregard of the fact that it houses the Dalai Lama’s residence and the Namgyal Monastery. On the first floor, though, the grandeur of Tibetan woodwork and love for bright colours assume larger than life proportions in the imposing statues of Padmasambhava (the Buddha) and Avalokiteswara (“the compassionate one”, of whom the present Dalai Lama is believed to be an incarnation). Whether you are a believer or not, the charged atmosphere is curiously moving, encouraging stillness and contemplation.
The 14th Dalai Lama has been in McLeodganj for more than four decades now, but nostalgia for the homeland—remembered or imagined—is something every Tibetan carries within himself. Forget the preference for jeans over traditional tunics, Tibetan culture is carefully preserved for future generations in the Norbulingka Institute, set up and managed by a trust created by the Dalai Lama himself.
Located in the valley, a few kilometres from Dharamsala, the Institute’s campus is full of tiny bridges, cool streams and ornate arches. Norbulingka is the summer palace of the Dalai Lama back in Tibet, and the community has worked very hard to recreate the “back home” feel in this patch of land thousands of miles away.
“We don’t want to lose our indigenous crafts. That is why we train our young people here,” says the young monk who abandons his post at the front office to show us around. His tone suggests the concern is as much for the arts and crafts as it is for the young people.
We step into a spacious, sun-lit room where a group of young Tibetans are working on an intricate thangka (scroll painting). “It will take a year to complete,” he announces. But then, where is the hurry?
Not in the mountains, certainly. Appropriately enough, it is religion that takes precedence in Dharamsala; in the presence of the Dalai Lama, of course, but also in the prayer wheels in the temple, in the middle of the crowded market and in the fluttering prayer flags everywhere. At the Church of St John in the Wilderness—its stained glass windows hidden between trees and swirling mist—the pastor from Kerala directs us to the graveyard when we ask for stories. I discover the grave of Lord Elgin, British viceroy of India from 1861 to 1863: He sought to be buried here because it reminded him of his own country, Scotland.
Religion is also in Bhagsunath, on the other side of town, where the Nag temple attracts pilgrims from all over the region. I join the “other” devotees, backpackers in search of the unnameable, who make their way straight up the narrow trail all the way to the top. There, the Bhagsu falls into a freezing cold but placid stream. Who knew nirvana comes accompanied by the sounds of a raspy Bob Dylan or Lonely Planet guides to Sud Indien?
TRIP PLANNER
How to get there:
Drive or take an overnight bus from New Delhi. The nearest broad gauge railway station is at Pathankot, while the new airport at Gaggal in Kangra valley has daily flights to New Delhi on Indian Airlines and Air Deccan (return economy fares from around Rs9,000). Hire a taxi from either place to reach McLeodganj, 9km away and some 460m higher than Dharamsala. The last stretch of road may be tough on queasy stomachs.
Where to stay: