Sardar Patel would have approved. His stern visage, appropriately but accidentally flanked by portraits of the fresh-faced young Orgyen Thinley Dorjee, the 17th Karmapa Lama, overlooked dozens of monks in saffron and yellow, with an occasional glint of brocade, squatting under a Jantar Mantar signboard proclaiming proprietorially, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel. The next line, Smarak TrUst was not visible.
They came from Ladakh and Sikkim, Darjeeling, Jalpaiguri, Arunachal Pradesh, Uttrakhand and Himachal Pradesh. Many waved the national tricolour emphasising their Indian Buddhist identity, some flaunted Buddhism’s multicoloured standard, others held pennants of swirling blue and yellow representing the Karmapa’s Karma Kagyu school. Placards refuted media allegations against him. A press release explained the monks’ assembly on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday was to pray for the Dalai Lama and the Karmapa Lama, for “the speedy elimination of all the obstacles being encountered by His Holiness the Karmapa Lama” and for India’s peace and prosperity.
It was a feast of sight and sound. The altar rose in delicately ornamented tormas (ceremonial cake offerings) in pale shades of pink and blue. Butter lamps twinkled, and long brass and copper horns with ornate silver encrustations blared out their resonance over the swelling volume of a hundred deep male voices chanting in Tibetan.
I spotted P Namgyal, former Congress MP from Ladakh, in smart gala-bandh signing petitions at a makeshift desk. Bustling about in black ankle-length baku was another former MP, Sikkim’s portly Karma Topden, who had also been India’s ambassador to Buddhist Mongolia. But the absent Vallabhbhai Patel’s was the dominating presence for the gathering would not have been necessary if he had been heeded. Tibet may not have fallen, the Karmapa would not have had to flee, policemen and junior officials would not have made him their target, and ignorant TV anchormen would not have repeated their slanderous propaganda.
Patel warned Nehru in June 1949 that though Tibet had “long been detached from China”, the Communists would “try to destroy its autonomous existence” as soon as they had consolidated their power. India should prepare “for that eventuality”. Offence being the best defence, as they say in boxing, a Chinese magazine accused Nehru three months later “of aiding imperialist designs for the annexation of Tibet”. Peking Radio repeated the charge in vitriolic language.
Highlighting the danger to India, Patel wrote to Nehru again the following November after the Union Cabinet had acquiesced in China’s conquest. His letter pointed out that “the Chinese government has tried to delude us by professions of peaceful intentions ... At a crucial period they managed to instil into our Ambassador a false sense of confidence in their so-called desire to settle the Tibetan problem by peaceful means ...” While China’s action was “little short of perfidy” India’s inaction was a betrayal.
“The tragedy of it is that the Tibetans put faith in us; they chose to be guided by us; and we have been unable to get them out of the meshes ... of Chinese malevolence ... It appears that we shall not be able to rescue the Dalai Lama …”. Patel sought an early meeting with Nehru to discuss “Chinese irredentism and Communist imperialism”.
There was no meeting. But he told a public rally in Delhi, “A peaceful country like Tibet has been invaded and it may not survive. There has been no aggression from its side. The whole border becomes exposed to danger. We should, therefore, be vigilant”. Patel would heartily have endorsed the Karmapa’s reasons for fleeing Tibet and his tribute to his “second homeland”, as quoted in the press release I was given with a white silk khada (scarf). “The Indian government, in contrast to Communist China, is a free country, a democratic country that is based on the rule of law.”
I saw nothing in the media about this dazzling show with a serious purpose. Why? One of the organisers had a pithy explanation. “The media doesn’t believe in the power of prayer,” he replied. “They would have taken notice if we had thrown stones!”
Tailpiece
A strapping unshaven man in windbreaker, trousers and boots sidled up to me to ask who Karma Topden, conspicuous in his baku, was. Then he wanted to know my “shubh naam”. Tit for tat, I asked where he was he from. “Express TV” he mumbled hesitantly. Never heard of it, I said, in my broken Hindi and asked if he was a cop. The man grinned in relief at not having to keep up a pretence that strained his capability. Intelligence, not intelligent.
