I spent last week with a unique group of Tibetan freedom fighters, some of whom were ex-soldiers and one who was the most active old man I have ever met. They spent hours arguing over non-violence versus violence, and how to organize a rebellion inside Tibet. They talked endlessly about how they would cross the mountains – all they needed were the bags on their backs and a satellite phone. They were ready to go with just their small group and they were all ready to die for their country.
I stayed up late one night talking with Tenzin, one of the guys, who happens to be the same age as me. The entire time I spent in the sheltered world of a western university, he was serving in the Indian army and risking his life for a country that isn’t even his. While I dream of working to make the world a better place, he dreams of dying for his country so that he may be born in a better society free from Chinese oppression. I felt like our lives couldn’t have been more different, and yet, we were both here fighting for the same thing.
Until I met Tenzin, I would have said I was completely opposed to the notion of violence and dying for the Tibetan cause. I believed that people could do more for the cause alive than they could achieve by sacrificing their life. The self-immolation of Thubten Ngodup has always brought up an overwhelming sense of sadness at what I saw as complete desperation, as wanting freedom so badly but not knowing what else to do. Nonetheless, I respected him for his selflessness and could see how much he inspired many in the Tibetan community.
Tenzin sat in front of me that night telling me he was ready to die. When he left home, he packed light because he didn’t intend on returning. He didn’t tell his parents about his plans because he didn’t want them to try and stop him. Tenzin’s readiness to die didn’t seem like an act of desperation, like I thought it would be. It was the best way he felt he could contribute to the movement. Listening to him, I felt like an educated brat with so many naïve ideas about how to change the world. I believe in Tibetan independence with my whole heart, but in what felt like a very sheltered way. In comparison, Tenzin’s conviction is raw and powerful, and it stirred up a passion in me that had been dormant.
I had to say good-bye to Tenzin and the others a couple of days back. It was one of the hardest good-byes I have ever said because I knew that there was no certainty I would ever see them again. I tried to hold back the tears as Tenzin’s words rang in my ears. But these freedom fighters possess a fierce bravery that I have never felt before and a conviction that is impossible to ignore. I passed them a note before they left in which I wrote the words I couldn’t have said out loud: they had inspired me and I would support them in their journey in whatever way I could.
I stayed up late one night talking with Tenzin, one of the guys, who happens to be the same age as me. The entire time I spent in the sheltered world of a western university, he was serving in the Indian army and risking his life for a country that isn’t even his. While I dream of working to make the world a better place, he dreams of dying for his country so that he may be born in a better society free from Chinese oppression. I felt like our lives couldn’t have been more different, and yet, we were both here fighting for the same thing.
Until I met Tenzin, I would have said I was completely opposed to the notion of violence and dying for the Tibetan cause. I believed that people could do more for the cause alive than they could achieve by sacrificing their life. The self-immolation of Thubten Ngodup has always brought up an overwhelming sense of sadness at what I saw as complete desperation, as wanting freedom so badly but not knowing what else to do. Nonetheless, I respected him for his selflessness and could see how much he inspired many in the Tibetan community.
Tenzin sat in front of me that night telling me he was ready to die. When he left home, he packed light because he didn’t intend on returning. He didn’t tell his parents about his plans because he didn’t want them to try and stop him. Tenzin’s readiness to die didn’t seem like an act of desperation, like I thought it would be. It was the best way he felt he could contribute to the movement. Listening to him, I felt like an educated brat with so many naïve ideas about how to change the world. I believe in Tibetan independence with my whole heart, but in what felt like a very sheltered way. In comparison, Tenzin’s conviction is raw and powerful, and it stirred up a passion in me that had been dormant.
I had to say good-bye to Tenzin and the others a couple of days back. It was one of the hardest good-byes I have ever said because I knew that there was no certainty I would ever see them again. I tried to hold back the tears as Tenzin’s words rang in my ears. But these freedom fighters possess a fierce bravery that I have never felt before and a conviction that is impossible to ignore. I passed them a note before they left in which I wrote the words I couldn’t have said out loud: they had inspired me and I would support them in their journey in whatever way I could.
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