Queens, New York, October 23, 2004. As I boarded the number-7
train on 61st Street subway station in Woodside, Queens this
morning, I was overcome with strange feelings of how the “Miss.
Tibet Fan” would look like, how scantily would she be
dressed for this mild weather, how people would react seeing
her in front of the Flushing Public Library on Main Street in
Queens and most importantly, how she would react to meeting
me.
This desire to meet “Miss. Tibet Fan” started after
I read a posting of hers on Phayul.com, a popular Tibetan web
site, where she had dared to demonstrate in front of the Flushing
Public Library. Her demand — in her own words —
was:
“This is a sincere call for Miss Tibet to join
the Tibetan Festival in Flushing Library, New York. I will
not rest until Miss Tibet is given the honor of representing
our nation in all her glory (swimsuit round is a must) at
this prestigious function. If my request is not met, I will
be going on a ‘Hunger Strike unto death’ right
on the steps of the Flushing Library, of course, I will be
in my swimsuit for the occasion.”
She wanted to bring attention to the recently-held beauty pageant
in Dharamsala, India and her strong desire to give Tashi Yangchen,
new Miss Tibet 2004, her due honor by bringing her here to the
Tibetan Festival being held at the library on October 23 and
October 24. With the help of the Office of Tibet in New York,
the public library, a three-storied glass building, a jewel
of architecture in the midst of a Hong Kong-like neighborhood,
is hosting a two-day Tibetan Festival. A sand mandala already
under construction, begun on Monday October 18th, by three monks
from Ithaca, New York, but originally from the Namgyal Monastery
in Dharamsala.
As my sparsely crowded “Oriental Express”(so called
by the locals as this train carries passengers of many nationalities
from Asia) started heading east towards its final destination
to Main Street in Flushing, I wondered if it was going to be
worth taking a day off for this. I usually serve hamburgers
and french fries at a diner in Great Neck, Long Island, New
York, but “Miss. Tibet Fan’s” bold declaration
of demonstrating for the cause of Miss. Tibet really drew my
attention. Although I had planned to visit the library on Sunday,
my only day off, to view the Festival, I couldn’t wait
to see her demonstrating in her bathing suit in this cold weather
in front of a library where thousands walk like they do in Janpath,
New Delhi or the Piccadilly Circus, London or even near home
at Herald Square, New York.
|
When people ask me my profession, I answer them, “All
Tibetans in general are professional demonstrators. In our
spare time we do something to make a living”. |
When people ask me my profession, I answer them, “All
Tibetans in general are professional demonstrators. In our spare
time we do something to make a living”. I feel it this
way because we, as Tibetans, have first and foremost got to
get rid of the Chinese from Tibet. In order to do that, we ought
to be ‘eating Rangzen, sleeping Rangzen’
(rangzen: freedom), etc. as one of the hunger strikers, Dolma
Choephel, told us at the U.N. when she was weak from not eating
for, God knows, how many days. So, we demonstrate on March 10th
every year. We demonstrate every time a Chinese leader comes
to New York, which is more times than one can count. We even
go to Washington, D.C and the local Tibetan organizations, which
are too many to name here, always find an excuse or other to
tell us to where to come to demonstrate.
Demonstrating for TIBET is only second to eating or breathing
for air for Tibetans. “Miss. Tibet Fan” hit a chord
in a very different way in her desire to demonstrate not for
Tibet, but for Miss. Tibet. What a genuine and novel reason
to demonstrate for a Tibetan? Why didn’t I think of something
that novel — not that I’d be willing to wear a pair
of shorts in New York’s late October weather, much less
a bathing suit.
|
If he [HH The Dalai Lama] were a simple lay person as opposed
to a ‘simple monk’ who happens to be the Dalai
Lama, he’d surely be out their on the streets demonstrating
against every injustice in this world. I really believe
that. Similarly, “Miss. Tibet Fan” has found
another reason to demonstrate than just for Tibet. |
I am in no way comparing “Miss. Tibet Fan” to His
Holiness the Dalai Lama, but His Holiness, when speaking to
the crowd or to the press, doesn’t only speak about his
beloved Tibet and Tibetans. He speaks of world peace, famine,
environment, health, gay issues, poverty and a whole range of
other issues. If he were a simple lay person as opposed to a
‘simple monk’ who happens to be the Dalai Lama,
he’d surely be out their on the streets demonstrating
against every injustice in this world. I really believe that.
Similarly, “Miss. Tibet Fan” has found another reason
to demonstrate than just for Tibet.
On the weekends, the “Orient Express” is no way
close to being express. I realized that a long while ago. A
majority of the riders on weekends are poor immigrants from
South America. My suggestion always has been that on weekends
it should be called “Guadalajara local”, which from
what I’ve heard of Mexico is akin to a train arriving
“on time”, while in India because it was late 24
hours.
One thing I’ve learnt from my years of failure and dissatisfaction
is that I should always look at the brighter side of life. A
glass is half full as opposed to half empty. Train’s stopping
every two minutes, every ten blocks, seeming as if the engineer
and the conductor just had their bacon and egg breakfast and
weren’t in a hurry to get anywhere. But I had more time
to lose myself in my thoughts of meeting “Miss Tibet Fan”.
At other times, I was busy working, serving burgers in this
very busy establishment, and by the time I get home, all I want
to do is to get away from my roommates who are either watching
a Hindi movie on tape or watching Antakshari on Zee TV. I just
flop down on my cheap mattress and fall asleep. That takes no
effort from my part at all. I had not gotten any time to think
of her and her brave, novel, and if I may, noble cause to demonstrate.
I had seen her in my dreams though. She was walking up and
down the steps in front of the Flushing Library. Occasionally
she’d sit on the steps and chat with folks asking her
for her cause. Sometimes, she’d be competing for “demonstration
attention” with a group of Falun-Gong protesters that
have enveloped the whole of New York City. It used to be the
“Jews for Jesus” group, but now it is Falun-Gong-
Dafa. After my advice to her, in one of my dreams, she had changed
into a two-piece bathing suit from her more traditional one
piece. But I didn’t have much conversation with her as
most of the time I was just watching her and admiring her. Every
time I woke up from my dream, as dreams usually are, I was left
feeling incomplete in my wish to know her, far from getting
to help her, miles away from being able to assist her in her
goals.
All of a sudden I feel darkness all around me. I hadn’t
closed my eyes, I’m thinking. Due to lack of sleep I’m
thinking I may have dozed off again and I realize the train
had just passed Willets Point/Shea Stadium stop and now was
leaving the surface and heading in the tunnel underground approaching
fast into the Main Street station. It’s only a few more
minutes’ ride in the tunnel — lights come on the
train — before I disembark the train and minutes walk
to the library. Suddenly train screeches to halt and the conductor,
with an Indian accent, announces there is another train in front
of us and as soon as that clears we’ll be on our way.
And he sarcastically thanks us all for “our patience and
cooperation” — Like we have any choice!
I grab a paper someone had left behind at Junction Blvd station.
Turn the page to read what the great New York Post had to say
today, I see an ad for Lord & Taylor with a woman scantily
clad in a two-piece bathing suit. “It’s winter not
summer”, I’m screaming in my head. But then again,
they are way ahead as far as planning goes. They’re already
getting ready for next summer and starting to sell the latest
swimwear at 30 percent off. Instead of reading any news of importance,
my thought is taken to “Miss. Tibet Fan”, with the
Lord & Taylor girl spread on my lap. Would she look anything
like Lord & Taylor model? Would she be...
The train finally moves forward. Well, I’ll see her soon.
I get off the train; that’s it, moment of truth is here,
finally. I climb the stairs to exit the station; “Hi,
I am NYker in the Phayul.com”, I think I’ll say
with my hand extended. I walk toward the Library; that’s
it, I am going to see the girl who’s been so brave in
my mind, who has, for a cause of her own, had decided to demonstrate
in a bathing suit. I see the building with the big bowl with
chopsticks on the roof; should I get her a bowl of hot chicken
and noodle soup? Right across the street from that landmark
is the Library; if she agrees to, I think I’ll go back
to the restaurant and get her whatever she wants. I see heads,
a sea of heads from a block away, and wonder if one of them
belongs to “Miss Tibet Fan”.
