Tibet Calling

We climb the stairs to the sound of gently breezing windchimes. We walk past a temple and into a small room with a woman by the entrance speaking in a warm, whisper. Very smiley. She whispers because next to her the room is filled with about twenty or so people reading and meditating.

I register, pay 200 rupees (three quid)and I'm told that this membership is for life. The pen she uses to do my life membership smudges. Good karma?

I enter the room and sit down next to Dom by the wall. I assume a vaguely comfortable half-lotus and get out my book. The people who enter after me are a little more into this. They stand, make three falling gestures to their knees and touch the floor with their head. Three times. The man at the front in Star Trek tones: burgundy and yellow, sits quietly with his head tilted downwards. Next to him and the centrepiece to the room is a table brimming with chocolate biscuits, jam, sweets, fruits.

And I'm hungry.

I wait.

Some people here have excellent lotus. Good for them.

A large man at the back makes quiet chanting sounds. Each person here, despite the respectful silence, seems to be competing for the best noise. Siiiigh. Hhhmmph. Eeeeoo.

Now comes a long chanting session. Some in the room sing along with the teacher, but by the tenth minute, they are lost. Sounds cool though. I recorded some on my dictaphone.

And once the teacher has spoken for a few minutes in his very clipped, direct Tibetan, he is translated by a nervous American/Tibetan woman.