- A True Story Of Escape From Tyranny
This is the story of Sonam Norgay, a 47-year old Tibetan who lives in Kham area of South-west China’s Sichuan Province. A physically fit Norgay is of medium height, a receding a hairline that still supports bunches of black hair, and teeth that have become black with constant chewing of tobacco and endless cups of tea. A cheerful man supporting a family of five, including his 70-year old mother, wife and two children, Sonam presents the perfect picture of a Tibetan – except that he is in hiding in India, escaping from the tyranny of a Chinese system that broke up his family, took away his job, and forced him to shame his faith under duress.
Sonam Norgay is what the babus in the vast heartless Indian bureaucracy would call a Tibetan refugee. Without any legal papers, he is, in fact, not even qualified to be called a registered refugee, not having come to India through Nepal and the complex systems there, but rather having risked life and limb to just walk across the porous India-Nepal border.
A chat with Norgay reveals the depth of his frustration, though he tries to wipe away the tears and maintain a composed façade in between long stretches of silence. Sonam was employed at a local government office in his village (he refuses to reveal the name of the village, concerned about the security of his family), and thought himself lucky to be amongst the very few Tibetans employed by the local government. His attempts to join the local branch of the Communist Party over the years had been unsuccessful, though he had worked sincerely in the office for almost 20 years.
Being of Tibetan extraction in a rural area, he was allowed by the authorities to have a second child. But through it all, there was always an undercurrent of tension with the Han Chinese who had increased their numbers in what was part of a Tibetan autonomous prefecture. Sonam, despite trying to merge into the background, was unable to do so, faced with the minor but personally significant slights from the Chinese in his hometown. This, despite him being one of the ‘privileged few’ Tibetans.
“A chat with Norgay reveals
the depth of his frustration,
though he tries to wipe away
the tears and maintain
a composed façade
in between
long stretches of silence”
The simmering sense of discontent turned into fear when, after the fierce rioting in Lhasa in March 2008, the lack of trust in Tibetans escalated tremendously within China. His activities were suddenly under close watch, his office drawers would be broken into twice, sometime even thrice, a week and his papers scattered all over. Local police and intelligence frequented his and other Tibetan houses in the village. The forced bonhomie of the past had given way to clear disdain. He began to fear for the future of his children, but strict residency requirements meant that they could not be easily sent away to members of his family in other, quieter parts of China.
Then came the next stage. Monks in the local monastery were forcibly pulled out and compelled to make public denunciations of the Dalai Lama. Even now, almost a year after the incidents, Sonam Norgay shivers when he tells of the pain on the faces of the monks, some of them teenagers whose voice had not yet broken, and others elderly people who had spent a lifetime in the monastery.
Then one day, a spark in the form of a small group of protestors, mostly young Tibetans carrying the ‘snowlion’ flag of the Dalai Lama, suddenly materialised in front of the local government office. The police attacked them with all their fury. Watching from his office window, Norgay could control himself no longer, and walked out of the office, to try and protect some of the younger protestors. That was his last day at work.
A devout Buddhist for whom the Dalai Lama was but an illusion, thousands of miles away, revived only in the tales his mother told when he was a young child, Sonam Norgay suddenly realised that he was still an outsider in the country he had long considered his own. Before long, he was arrested for his role in the demonstration, and imprisoned for three months – no judicial process, no hearing, only constant questioning and occasional torture at the hands of the police. Eventually, the spirit broke. In return for a self-criticism and a false admission of his complicity in organising of the demonstration, he was able to secure a transfer for his family, although they would remain under surveillance for some time.
The months flew by, and gradually his family was able to pick up the pieces and rebuild their life. Norgay, however, had been fully awakened to the reality of the situation. He plotted and planed and saved enough money to make good an escape to India where he could meet the Dalai Lama. Doing odd jobs, he was able to get in touch with a guide who demanded more than one lakh rupees to help him cross into India. However, he was able to bargain and bring the amount down to nearly Rs. 60,000. The date was fixed.
Sonam said his silent goodbyes to his family, aware that he might not see them again, but feeling the pull of an unidentified force, he made the decision and walked away one afternoon. A tortuous journey, through the night most of the time, sleeping in caves in the mountain sides, scavenging for food and missing a beat every time a police patrol car wailed in the distance, Sonam managed to reach a high pass connecting Tibet with Nepal.
Exhausted, weary and broke, he had no stomach to look for another guide and pay him more money to cross into India. So, Norgay bounced around in Nepal for a few days, got his bearings in order and, with a group of other Tibetans, slipped into India unnoticed.
It has been over a month since Norgay came to India. However, he is no closer to getting a darshan of the Dalai Lama. He hopes to be able to do so when the exalted leader gives one of his appearances to large crowds, because crowds are the only place Norgay has to hide in.
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