CHAPTER ONE

BEGINNINGS

 

IN MARCH OF 1959, Sudha was the wife of the political officer in charge of the Indian mission, quartered in the Agency House in Yatung District, Tibet. The Chinese occupation of that Himalayan country was in full swing, leading to many horrors perpetrated against the people, especially the monks and nuns, and a full scale exodus by those able to escape. Her husband, KC, did all he could to facilitate such escapes as well as help those left behind. Sudha was busy caring for tired, depressed, and frightened refugees who stopped off at Agency House on their way out of the country. Together they had spent time with His Holiness just before their Tibet posting during his extended celebratory tour of India honoring the 2500th birth anniversary of the Buddha gaining enlightenment and shared a deep love for Tibet, its people, and its leader

On the 17th of March, KC received a coded wireless message stating that His Holiness had secretly left Lhasa, on foot, in the dark, for an unknown destination. Because of their mutual reverence for His Holiness, KC broke his strict personal protocol and shared this news with his concerned wife.

She was sick with worry, knowing her friend would be facing unknown hardships and that the journey out of Tibet would be treacherous. Although she did not discuss the message with anyone, rumor of his self-exile had spread like wildfire. In Yatung, large crowds had congregated in the bazaar, anxiously speculating about their future and that of Tibet. Local Tibetan and Indian workers were flocking in droves to the office at Agency House, looking for information and asking what they should do next. It was clear to all that if the Dalai Lama had indeed escaped, the Chinese would take revenge and make everyday existence even more difficult.

Early April, KC received another coded message that His Holiness had reached India safely just as Pandit Nehru announced on April 3 in the Indian Parliament that the Government of India had granted asylum to His Holiness.

Following Prime Minister Nehru’s announcement, far more restrictions on movement were imposed, especially in Lhasa where the atmosphere remained extremely tense. There were many new reprisals and constraints, directed particularly against the Tibetan aristocracy and the monks and nuns. Everyone knew things were only going to get worse.

Sudha was seven months pregnant with her second child. The couple had been planning to have the child in Tibet, but the Chinese authorities denied Sudha medical facilities and advised her to seek medical attention in India. Messages were sent to Madras, where her mother and brother lived, and they hurriedly began planning, packing, and assembling an entourage of porters and servants. Sudha and their three-year-old daughter Geeta would be the only females. Sudha would ride a pony, and Geeta would travel with her own pony and a dedicated porter to carry her when she tired.

The night before their departure, KC’s deputy arrived with eight large boxes from Lhasa, all stitched up in white burlap. He accepted the bundles and, revealing nothing, told Sudha they had to be taken down to Gangtok, explaining that with her diplomatic immunity there would be no problems, even if there were a Chinese presence at the checkpoint. Of course, she was curious and asked her husband what this extra luggage was all about. He avoided the question and said it was just some official material that had to be relayed. Most likely he didn’t know himself what was inside the boxes; he just had instructions that they were to go down to India as consulate property. With all of her other worries, the extra boxes retreated to the back of her mind.

The morning of departure was exceedingly chilly for April. Sudha waited outside of Agency House with Geeta and the rest of the entourage while KC organized the mule train. As they prepared to leave, and throughout the morning, she fought back tears. While she was feeling a little self-pity, realizing that the Tibet she had always loved was gone forever, that morning she grieved for the people who made up this sacrosanct land.

As they climbed upward toward the Nathu La Pass, she tried to rein in her emotions, pointing out the flowers and trees to Geeta, but feeling so distraught and uncomfortable on her pony, being so large with child, the scenery gave her no pleasure.

 

They were to break journey the first night in Champithang, the last village before the pass. As they approached the new military checkpoint, Sudha found it very disconcerting to see such a huge Chinese presence when only months before people crossed completely unmonitored. Knowing she had this extra baggage from Lhasa, she was quite apprehensive as she handed over her diplomatic papers and permits. After a drawn out examination the officials appeared satisfied and handed the documents back with a Chinese stamp.

Two days and cold nights later, they reached “civilization.” Thankfully there was a jeep waiting for them at the head of the road. From there, Sudha and Geeta traveled in relative luxury for the next few kilometers. As they drove into Gangtok, the official residence India House had never looked more beautiful, resplendent with lush gardens and the promise of warmth and comfort.

 

That evening Sudha, unceremoniously turned over the eight boxes to Apa Pant, the Officer in Charge of Tibet and Bhutan, and her husband’s boss. It was obvious he was expecting them and immediately made a call. It was only then that Sudha came to know they were the property of His Holiness and the Tibetan government, but she was too dazed to feel anything besides relief that they had been safely handed over. There was much speculation, that these boxes held religious books, scrolls, and articles of worship, that the Tibetan government wanted safe in order to preserve their culture, religion, and way of life.

Almost five decades later in Dharamsala, she would see charred scrolls and books encased in glass and thought that they were very possibly the very ones she had brought out of Tibet in those burlap boxes.

 

Sudha would go on to raise a family, have a satisfying career as a teacher and follow a spiritual path, but there was another thread to her life, she touched history in Tibet, India, Sikkim, and Afghanistan and these adventures are the story of this book.

 

 

SUDHA WAS BORN in 1934 in her grandfather’s house, Engineers Bungalow, on the crest of the hill in the small town of Solan located in the western Himalayas. Solan, capital of Bhagat State, was a stop on the way to Simla, the once summer capital for the British Government in India, now known for its festivals, temples, educational facilities, and mountain bike races. When she was growing up, Solon was a secluded, peaceful place, about 5,000 feet above sea level, ringed by mountains on all sides.

Her engineer grandfather had befriended the raja, Durga Singh, and after designing and building a number of official buildings for the town‚ all proudly standing to this day‚ the raja gifted him a piece of land. It was a magnificent location, on the morning side of the mountain, facing south and looking out over the valley and the mountains beyond. On this plot her grandfather built a grand three-story stone and wood house for her grandmother with a traditional tin roof, and it, too, is still standing.

From the bay windows in the front of the house Sudha would watch for hours the toy train puffing and winding around the mountains—Simla’s famous British-built mountain railway, today a UN world heritage site. It’s called a toy train but it was really quite functional. One could ride it all the way from the plains to Simla, a five-hour ride.

Sudha’s grandfather was a British Sahib and brought up his daughters in a genteel atmosphere, even employing British governesses to educate them at home. Her grandmother, very orthodox and ritual-bound, like the Brahmins, ate no meat. As a vegetarian she always had her own kitchen while her husband had a separate Western-style kitchen, mutton and all. He had become very fond of the British diet during his college days in Roorkee. Although the grandmother never tasted the Western foods he so loved, she prepared them without complaint. Perhaps this didn’t pose much of a problem because, following the custom of the time, she always ate after her husband.

Sudha’s mother was his first daughter to be wed. She went to live with her husband’s extended family in Bareilly, a town near Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal. It was only after her new husband returned to medical school that she learned the true nature of his stepmother. Katori was the proverbial wicked stepmother and the negative and critical atmosphere her mother was subjected to was completely foreign to her. Those were the days when the daughter-in-law had to cover her face and remain subservient and quiet no matter how she was treated.

Katori took away all Sudha’s mother’s clothes, and other lovely belongings, including her heirloom jewelry. She was allotted two saris that had to be washed and re-worn every other day. There was no privacy, and she had no time for herself. She came from a home where she and her siblings were treated like princesses, instructed by their British governess to always be ladylike. Raised in this atmosphere of refined sensibility, she had unknowingly cast her lot with Sudha’s father, whose tribulations she now had to share. Her dad soon realized that this life was too much for her but while still in medical school there was nothing he could do.

After passing his medical exams and receiving his first posting, in Agra, he travelled to Bareilly to retrieve his beleaguered wife. In the beginning, his work for the Uttar Pradesh Medical Department took them to many remote villages and mountain areas. The government hospitals he administered were usually the only medical care available for hundreds of miles. Her mother went along with him, often on horseback, until Sudha and her brother were born.

Sudha’s older brother Ravi was born in Chakrata in the government hospital where her father was then posted. Three years later it was her turn. Her earliest memories were of parental love; a house full of people, many of whom she didn’t like; being hugged and having her cheeks pinched. She resented all these people and wondered why she couldn’t have her Mummy’s full attention. She was lonely, but in solitude, often felt a comforting presence that she thought of as her guardian angel. She loved to roam in the garden, observing the rain dripping from the pointy tips of every leaf, the puddles during the monsoon, and lazy afternoons in the warm, sun-filled garden amidst the aroma of flowers and new-mown grass. In the garden she was always happy. When others thought she was talking to herself‚ as children are prone to do‚ she knew, she was communicating with her guardian angel.

When Sudha was about four, the family moved back to Agra, where her father was in charge of Balrampur Hospital, a large beautiful, well-equipped facility where all the nurses were British. Her parents decided to send her to the Loreto Convent, an English Christian school, where the educated elite in that area sent their daughters. The only language she knew at age four was what they spoke at home, Hindi, and the nuns spoke only English, but thanks to the loving patience and commitment of her first teacher, Mother Matilde, she was speaking English within the month.

All the nuns were wonderful teachers. Of course, in India in 1938, British educators set the curriculum. Indians studied British and European history. Their only introduction to Indian history was through a book called The Story of India, written by an Indian author, Meenu Masan, which read more like a storybook than a textbook, reciting tales of various kings and emperors. There was catechism class for Catholics and a separate religious class for the non-Christians, which did not go into the technicalities of Christianity but introduced universal morals. They were taught the stories of the saints that illustrate the basic values propounded in the Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes.

Even at that tender age, Sudha yearned for a sacred place to be alone to reflect and dream. She was most impressed with the cleanliness and austerity of the church and found it a haven of peace. She loved going to the small chapel in the school to think, admire the beautiful surroundings, and gaze at the statues of Jesus, Mary, and St. Joseph, feeling she was among friendly presences.

Many of the Hindu parents objected to their children going to the chapel, fearing that they would be swayed toward Christianity. One day while sitting alone in the chapel, musing her own thoughts, she was abruptly interrupted, informed by one of the nuns that she was no longer allowed to visit the sanctuary. She arrived home that afternoon in tears, complaining to her father that the nuns had forbidden her to enter the chapel. The very next morning, he accompanied her to school and challenged the Mother Superior why this child who only wanted to sit in the chapel was no longer allowed. She explained to him the objections of other Hindu parents whereupon Sudha’s father challenged, “Well, here is one parent who does not object, and so please allow my daughter to visit the chapel whenever she wants.”

Her father was her hero. He was extremely loving, a devoted parent, exemplary husband, and caring physician. He never had an office at home but went to the hospital to see his patients. So many times he would come home after a long day, only to go right back because one of his patients was in distress. He led a typical doctor’s life of the time, always available to his patients, inspiring so much confidence that they came to him again and again. He was the very essence of compassion, though he could be stern when disobeyed. Sudha always knew that whatever her question, she’d get an honest answer from him.

Intellectually speaking, he was a bigger influence on her than her mother. He was a scholar adept at three languages: Hindi, Urdu, and English. Although a man of science by profession, he loved the arts, music, and poetry. He was fond of music and they attended all the musical events that took place wherever he was posted. He played the violin and encouraged his children to learn classical music themselves. When Sudha went to school he encouraged her to play the piano. On those music filled evenings, she didn’t mind all the extra people always at their house—they added merriment and volume to the chorus.

It was he who introduced his children to the metaphysical and romantic poets. Sudha still remembers a huge tome called A Thousand Beautiful Things. One of the most pleasurable memories of her childhood was snuggling up to her father and listening to endless stories from books, tales of the wonders of the world and fantastic journeys across the seven seas. Her early love of mysticism made her weave many a dream with these tidbits. Unlike so many children who grow up just hearing and reading tales of adventure, Sudha was, in fact, getting a taste of what her life would be: travel, exotic lands, hobnobbing with royalty and great spiritual teachers, brushes with death—at the hands of both man and nature—and even what some would call “magic” were to be parts of her experience.

Her mother was a different kind of person altogether. She was conservative, pragmatic, and down-to-earth. She ran the family home seamlessly, anticipating all their physical needs and available to solve all their little problems. Like her grandmother, she was a vegetarian married to a meat-eater. She never tasted the non-vegetarian food that she dutifully cooked at home, but young Sudha, like her father, loved it.

It is traditional in India that any relative or any member of the extended family was always welcomed into the home. This meant brothers, sisters, children, brothers-in-law, sisters‚ children, sisters-in-law, their children, ad infinitum. It was Sudha’s mother’s job to cater to this incessant string of house guests as well as see to the smooth running of the home and entertain in a manner befitting my father’s position. Some of these relatives were favorites of hers but mostly they were people she did not know. An extended family is like a community; not everyone is necessarily lovable.

Many of the “guests” merely came to visit because they were sick and they wanted free treatment, which Sudha’s father willingly provided. Many a time, after the day’s chores were over, dinner done, and her exhausted mother was about to lie down‚ the relatives would arrive unannounced. It was back to the kitchen to feed the newcomers and listen to their woes. They had servants, and always had a cook, but even so her mother had just enough time to run the house and look after the endless queue of guests.

There were times when Sudha felt utterly betrayed by her mother’s distractions. One day, bursting with pride at an exemplary report card and wanting to share the glory with her mother, she found her in the back room, attending to a sick relative. Feeling alone and neglected, a fit of sulks and tears ensued, her only weapon. Of course her mother felt regret at her anguish, but she was not a demonstrative person, and Sudha had to content herself with a terse, matter-of-fact explanation. Ironically, it was these very qualities, practicality and levelheadedness, that would later prove to be saving grace for both Sudha and her children in the turbulent years to follow.

 

Children these days have extra-curricular activities after school or go off and play at their classmates’ homes, and spend nights with their friends, but Sudha and Ravi met their friends in school, then went home, being pretty much left to their own devices. Their parents were always so busy with the carryings-on in the house that they rarely spent what is now called “quality time” with them. They did not even know what homework their children had, or if they did it. Sudha felt she grew up pretty much by herself and although she wasn’t really lonely, she often felt alone.

No matter where her father was posted, every summer her mother would take Sudha and her brother, bag and baggage, to stay with their grandmother in the family home in Solan. She looked forward to this vacation all year, playing out all of the little rituals in her mind, starting with boarding the darling toy train. But most of all she yearned for her grandmother Ganga Devi, who lavished her with the loving attention that her often-busy mother could not give her.

She and Ravi would sit at her knee for hours, enthralled by her stories out of Indian mythology. Their favorites were the stories of Lord Ram: how he was willing to die for the truth rather than compromise his conscience. This was how Indian children of the day learned their basic values. She also related personal stories of Sudha’s grandfather, his days of service and how humanely he always treated those who worked with him on projects throughout the Punjab, sacrificing his own comforts to help them. These stories shaped Sudha’s conscience, introducing modes of behavior that surfaced many years later in a spirit of altruism and a desire to serve humanity, further strengthened by the example of her father with his patients, and the nuns in the convent. What a lucky girl she was.

On one of those summer holidays when Sudha was ten or eleven‚ her grandmother told her that the great saint Mata Anandamayi was coming to Solan and they would all be going to the palace to pay their respects. Ravi was completely uninterested but Sudha was rapt. She asked a thousand questions about this famous visitor, and her patient grandmother shared all she knew. Anandamayi Ma who was described as “the most perfect flower the Indian soil has produced” developed an intense devotion to Lord Krishna at an early age and underwent a gradual inner transformation, which led to her self-realization at the age of twenty-six.

Through her siddhis (yogic powers), she could read her devotees’ thoughts and emotions at a distance, see the future, make her body shrink and expand, and cure the sick. She emphasized the importance of detachment from the outer world and religious devotion, and encouraged her devotees to serve others. One of her disciples claimed that she was saved from death after a car accident when Anandamayi grasped her “life substance” and brought it back into her dead body. People from far and wide visited her to seek blessings. As young as she was, Sudha was inspired that she was an advocate of spiritual equality for women, an uncommon sentiment at the time.

The morning they were to go to the palace, Sudha was ecstatic. They got there well ahead of time, and after waiting with bated breath for almost fifteen minutes, the great saint appeared and positioned herself on an elevated platform, draped in a white sheet. What a beautiful apparition she was: long flowing hair, a white sari, and an otherworldly presence. Even the vermilion circle she wore on her forehead appeared to glow like a bright star. She radiated spiritual power yet was at the same time unassuming. Reciprocating humble greetings with loving compassion, she laid her hand on Sudha’s head and for that moment, time ceased to be for the young girl as a great feeling of joy overcame her. Even at that young age, she appreciated what a rare and exquisite experience this was.

 

 

SUDHA WAS INTERESTED in all spiritual traditions and came to know quite a bit about Christianity, Sufism, and Islam‚ eventually devoting herself to Buddhism. But in her earliest years she embraced the religion of her family, Hinduism. Religious beliefs in India were not something taught like a catechism, but absorbed from the example set by parents. Their values were respect for all life, respect for elders, strict adherence to the truth, loyalty, keeping the promises one made, and respect for the servants working in the house. This was the Hindu way, honoring the planet and the dignity of the human person through performing the sacred rituals that were closely connected to nature and its manifestation in the Hindu pantheon. All of the Shiva incarnations offered the same spirited guidance. The Ramayana, Gita, and Mahabharata are lessons as to how life should be lived according to dharma, the enlightened path.

Sudha’s parents were not orthodox, but her mother followed all the rituals handed down to her through the generations. Hindu holidays and daily rituals were basically the same, but each family has their own way of observing them. These subtle differences made the religion more personal; it also taught tolerance for the way different people lived their lives. Her family observed all the festivals: Basant, the welcoming of Spring, heralded by the golden yellow mustard flowers; Holi, the festival of colors is celebrated on the March full moon; Janmasthami, the birthday of Lord Krishna, is observed somewhere between mid-August and mid-September, depending on the stars; Diwali, the five-day festival celebrated in Autumn is called the festival of lights and honors the homecoming of Lord Ram from Lanka (now Sri Lanka) and his victory over Ravana. It symbolizes the victory of good over evil as well as the advent of winter, and is as important to Hindus as Christmas is to Christians

Sudha’s first personal exposure to Buddhism is etched clearly in her memory. It was the day she met her first Buddhist monk. She doesn’t remember her exact age but she was very young. Her father was an avid duck shooting enthusiast, and Sudha and Ravi would beg him to take them along whenever he drove off to his favorite hunting spot, a huge lake that was home to hundreds of wild ducks. He usually went with a whole entourage of servants, a friend or two, sometimes a representative of the king. Father was a fine shot and aimed only at birds on the wing. While he was off with his retinue attending to his favorite sport, Sudha and Ravi would romp and play among the beautiful gardens and flowering bushes till they were tired and hungry, looking forward to their picnic on the banks of the lake.

This particular day in her memory, was warm and sunny. When her father returned after his successful shoot (he always gave his bounty away), they reluctantly packed up to leave. As Sudha turned to go, over the hillside she saw a monk, dressed in orange robes, walking directly toward them. She was astonished that this man‚ his presence so magnetic and his aura so powerful, had picked them out of all the picnicking people gathered there.

Her father, always respectful to sages, joined his hands in honor of the venerable monk, who blessed him and then gently asked, “Why do you kill these innocent birds for pleasure? Don’t do this in the future. Give it up.” He then turned and walked back in the direction he came from. Her father was uncharacteristically pensive the entire trip back and when bombarded by the inquisitive Sudha’s never ending questions, he recited the story of Prince Siddhartha and how he became the Buddha.

When they reached home, her father relayed this strange encounter to his wife. She interpreted it as a divine message and urged him to take heed of the monk’s counsel. The effect of those words on her father was profound. From that day onward, he never killed another living thing. He did not turn vegetarian, but he never went shooting again. This encounter wrought such a change in her father’s attitude toward the fundamental dignity of life that from then on he was a committed preserver and protector of the environment. The incident left a deep impression on Sudha’s young mind as well and awoke within her the seeking spirit that has followed her throughout her days. It was her first Buddhist lesson in non-violence.

As time went on, questions concerning Buddhism arose in Sudha’s mind, answered sometimes by her father and sometimes by the books she sought out in the library. There was much that was above her head, but what she understood, what made sense to her as a child, was that the Buddha taught the strictures of the law of cause and effect‚ karma‚ which governs not only humans, but all of nature and its creatures. Struggles come to teach patience, forbearance and courage. And they will keep coming until the lesson is learned.

 

After that encounter, instead of duck hunting, Sudha’s father would take them on long treks up the mountains in and around Solan during summer holidays. They would hike for a while and then find the perfect gurgling Himalayan streams for their tiffin (snack) and a rest. It was during those periods of rest that her Father lectured on the wonders and secrets of nature and how close human beings were to the living earth that nourished them. These discourses, way back in the 1930s, were Sudha’s first lessons in what we now call environmentalism. He taught through words and example that the more people cared for and looked after Mother Nature, the greater her bounty would be. The wisdom of this becomes clearer with every passing day.

 

 

WHEN SUDHA WAS born, India was a British colony. The freedom struggle was gaining momentum all through her childhood. By 1942, a huge number of Indians were actively involved in the independence movement called Quit India. All across the country, young people were printing pamphlets and going from house to house distributing them. Her aunts, her mother’s younger sisters, and many of her cousins, young men and women, were deeply involved. They were all absolutely anti-colonialist, much to the discomfort of Sudha’s father, who was a loyal government servant through and through.

Towering above all the activity was the figure of Mahatma Gandhi. Indians worshipped him because he stood up for truth and he inspired them to be true to their country. Sudha clearly remembers the one and only time she saw him. He was passing through Solan on his way to the historic Simla conference in 1945. There was great excitement throughout the community and a flurry of activity as everyone rushed down to the bazaar, not wanting to miss catching a glimpse of Gandhiji. He arrived at the market square the simple man he was. No fanfare, no grand motorcade, just a simple black vehicle that stopped in the town marketplace. He stepped out and chatted with a few people from the enormous, chanting crowd that had gathered. Sudha was mesmerized as she sat high on her uncle’s shoulders, craning her neck to catch sight of the frail Mahatma wearing his trademark white loincloth and white khadi woolen shawl. Just as when she met the saint Mata Anandamayi, she recognized the goodness and power in the man, an inner quality that was visible in every movement and gesture.

With Mahatma Gandhi, a new idea was born‚ achieving a political end without violence or indignity to anyone. Faced with a population that refused to be either aggressive or subservient, the British had no choice, and gradually they passed on power. The process culminated in the full independence of India on August 15, 1947. Sudha can remember Independence Day vividly. She was twelve years old clustered around the radio with her family, listening to the famous “Tryst with Destiny” speech of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of independent India, speaking from Parliament. Great festivities unfurled all around. People were bursting firecrackers, there was great merry-making and festivity‚ and then, at the stroke of midnight, India became an independent nation. Of course on that momentous night Sudha could never have dreamt then that one day India’s first prime minister would be a guest in her own home, and she would play hostess to him many times over.

India’s independence came at a huge cost. The country was partitioned, and the predominantly Muslim states in India was now a separate nation, Pakistan. The divide-and-rule policies that had helped the British subdue the subcontinent for so long reached a bloody, final outcome. Partition was announced long before Independence Day. Refugee camps were established for families hailing from Pakistan who were now separated from their birthplace. The emotional anguish of people uprooted from their homes and land, facing an uncertain future, was tremendous. Even at twelve, as little as she knew of suffering, Sudha could sense their desperation. This likely prepared her for the tragic experience many years later, when she witnessed and assisted a similar exodus of Tibetans from their homeland into India.

Her family was in Solan that July, where her baby brother Denish was born on the 7th. Solan was a predominantly Hindu state with a Hindu maharaja, and there was a strong presence of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), an educational body founded in 1925 to provide character training through Hindu discipline. During this period, the group’s objective was to train groups of Hindus to work to unite the Hindu community. The organization gained considerable strength and support because of its relief activities organized for the migrating Hindus, and its protection of Hindus and Sikhs in the Hindu-Muslim riots.

Next to her grandparent’s house was a guesthouse they rented to a lovely Muslim family with whom they share a very warm and cordial, almost familial relationship. Sudha understood that, like the Christians, they said different prayers and had different rituals but as people they were all the same. They ate meals together and enjoyed all their different traditions.

One night Sudha’s Uncle Jangn Bahadura, an active member of the RSS, paid them a call, reporting alarming news about escalating violence and planned attacks against local Muslims. Listening to her uncle’s accounts of what was happening was terrifying. The hatred on both sides was so intense, almost palpable. Her mother was sick with worry about the safety of their tenants and friends. The uncle returned some days later with an advance warning that within two days’ time, Hindu extremists planned a massacre of all the Muslims in Solan. Sudha’s mother and grandmother hastily formulated a plan. They asked the uncle to arrange for a vehicle and driver. Then they informed their tenants and friends of the intended bloodbath and urged them to pack and leave immediately. One can only imagine how heartbreaking that conversation must have been. Quietly, in the dead of night, Sudha’s grandmother delivered the terrified family to the main road where a trusted driver was waiting to take them safely to their relatives in Delhi. They never saw their friends again.

It all happened just as predicted. Within two days, their peaceful refuge, Solon, was cleared of all Muslims. Those that weren’t fortunate enough to escape were killed. Days later, with heavy hearts, Sudha, her father and mother, older and baby brothers packed their belongings and left for Agra, where school was due to open. Sudha hadn’t personally seen the violence but she knew what had happened; everyone knew. She questioned how human beings could be so brutal, how they could stoop so low as to murder innocent people just because they prayed to a different God. As had the encounter with the monk on the hill all those years back, this event changed her, strengthening her desire to commit to a life of compassion and to regard all people as deserving of life, respect and a place in society.

But she was still a twelve-year-old girl, with her own sense of what was important. They were traveling on the Simla toy train and had to book their luggage in the baggage van. There was utter chaos at the station and they didn’t realize that one part of the train was headed for Pakistan. As luck would have it, one of their boxes, containing most of Sudha’s dresses, got lost in the confusion. In those days, losing clothes mattered, because it was soon after the Second World War and cloth was rationed. She can still remember her dismay when the first day of school had her scrambling for something to wear.

Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated on January 30, 1948, shot three times in the chest during evening prayer. When Gandhi died, Sudha was in Solan, though it wasn’t summer. Like the whole of India, she was in tears. If it had been a Muslim who had killed him there would have been a holocaust but it was a Hindu fanatic, reportedly a member of the RSS. The killer, Nathuram Godse, gave as his motive, “ . . . it was not so much the Gandhian Ahimsa teachings that were opposed to by me and my group, but Gandhiji, while advocating his views, always showed or evinced a bias for Muslims, prejudicial and detrimental to the Hindu Community and its interests.”

Like Martin Luther King twenty years later, this great teacher of non-violence was martyred by a fanatic with a gun. There is no answer to hatred and sectarianism except through love. This is why all the great teachers from Buddha to Jesus to the Dalai Lama stress forgiving one’s enemies. It is not a position of weakness, as Gandhi’s killer thought, but the only answer to the endless cycle of grief and resentment.

Sudha learned this lessons personally and early. She lost an aunt, her mother’s sister, during those awful days. The aunt, a doctor, had unknowingly gone to Karachi to attend a medical convention when Partition occurred. She never came back. The family searched everywhere for her, for years. Someone said she was in Bangalore and her father and mother rushed there but never found her.

 

 

SUDHA WAS FIFTEEN, in the tenth grade, when she experienced her first delicious taste of freedom. It was the end of 1950 and she was presently attending St. Patrick’s, preparing to take the Junior Cambridge, a qualifying test. The nuns suggested to her father that she spend several months boarding in residence. She was overjoyed to live somewhere that afforded organized study hours and regular meals.

The system in India at that time was that after successful completion of tenth grade, one went on to an intermediate course, offered in a university, for two years before starting on a bachelor’s degree. Most women enrolled in the intermediate course but were married before they had a chance to go to college. But there was never a question as to whether Sudha would attend college. Her parents and extended family were strong proponents of higher education for women, two of her mother’s sisters were presently attaining graduate degrees.

Whenever her father found himself in a dilemma as to his children’s education, he would consult the nuns at the convent and so it was their sound advice he sought when deciding which university would be the best for his bright daughter. The principal, Mother Stanislaus, advised him that the convent was running a very elite college in Simla, high in the Himalayas. It was opened originally in 1864 as an orphanage for the children of British soldiers, and converted In 1904, by the religious order of Jesus and Mary into a college calling it St. Bede’s. The school was originally meant for Christian girls, but five years before, at the dawn of India’s independence, it had opened its doors to students of different faiths.

And so it was decided that Sudha would attend St. Bede’s for intermediate study. The school was very small; she would be one of only a hundred students, all women. The school year began in early spring, because, at an elevation of 7500 feet, December, January, and February were too cold, so she spent those winter months at home, packing, planning, and savoring the last days with her family.

On the first of March, her father accompanied her on the train to Delhi where she met up with a group of older girls going up to St. Bede’s. As they left the plains and boarded the familiar toy train, which would take them past Engineers Bungalow in Solan and on up to Simla, the temperatures plummeted, and her excitement soared. Alternately she was quite apprehensive, aside from two months studying at boarding school, Sudha had never been away from home and had no idea what to expect.

The girls arrived at night. Although snow is not common in March, it did snow. What a delightful surprise—her introduction to the snowbound boarding school was a white carpeted, beautiful, blustery winter evening. Of course she had seen the occasional snowflakes over the winter seasons in Solan, but she found this early spring blanket absolutely enchanting. For some time she just stood outside by herself, studying the older, more sophisticated girls as they streamed out of the main building. They were such a happy, exuberant lot, but rather intimidating. Sudha trusted that she would eventually master her initial diffidence and become part of that group, but at that moment, she felt utterly alone. Eventually, she recognized two girls from her old school, and the three banded together, joining in on the fringes, throwing snowballs and making their first snow angels.

Following the snow games, the students assembled in one of the two lecture halls and once the outerwear came off, Sudha not only felt hopelessly out of fashion, she felt downright dowdy. Her hometown was a place of simple sartorial tastes. The other girls, mostly from Delhi and the Punjab, flitted about like elegant butterflies, making the girls from Agra and Eastern India stand out like sore thumbs. In spite of her initial self-consciousness and embarrassment, she made up her mind to wear the clothes her parents had tailored proudly.

It became more and more obvious to Sudha that she hailed from an extremely conservative and protective background, and compared to these other girls she was reserved and self-effacing. She remains eternally grateful to one of the nuns, for her compassion and encouragement. Mother Felix, or Felix the Cat as they fondly referred to her, was always there during those first few homesick weeks, soothing Sudha’s angst and giving her the praise she needed. She pampered and encouraged Sudha until she was able to make friends and adapt herself to this school so far from home.

There was no hazing—what they call ragging in India—of the freshman, but that is not to say they didn’t have their pecking order traditions. As freshmen, they were supposed to carry morning washing water for the seniors and place it outside their door. Every morning the freshman would lug heavy porcelain basins and jugs for the unappreciative seniors. Being subservient and waiting on others was a completely different experience for Sudha and at first she found it all very confusing, but in actuality it was excellent preparation for what was to come in her life. Getting up at an appointed time to be in the service of other people who were not always appreciative, prepared her for life and certainly for being a wife and mother. Through these morning duties, she learned that one’s good deeds often get taken for granted. She chose to overlook the seniors rudeness and regard the tradition as a rewarding exercise, doing something worthwhile, and helping other human beings. Every time her good deed was met with a shout because she had inadvertently woken one of the girls, she vowed that when a senior herself, she would be so very appreciative and thank the freshman profusely, which of course she did.

The Christian girls went off to church in the morning. The rest were free to go only if they chose. Sudha went with them sometimes, finding the chapel once again, a meditative refuge. She didn’t have any group Hindu ritual practices, only her own private prayers in her rooms, which she performed every day without fail.

The majority of the students at St. Bede’s were from the cream of society, the royal houses of India. British India was comprised of many princely states that were all allowed to govern themselves under the British umbrella and even for some time after Independence. This is why it was known as an elitist college. Sudha’s family was upper middle class, from a service background and caste, and for the first time in her life, she was exposed to a set of people she had never encountered. It was clear they had led a very sheltered and pampered existence till now; they didn’t know what it was like to look after themselves.

Intellectually, Sudha felt far superior to all of those over-privileged students, who seemed more interested in social life than academic performance. She took her studies seriously because not only was she genuinely interested in them, more importantly she realized how much of a sacrifice her parents made to give her this education, and she wasn’t going to let them down.

After the first year, certain students were allowed to reside off campus. There were cottages close to the college where those students whom the nuns trusted absolutely were sent to live. Sudha was one of the lucky four handpicked by Mother Felix to live in the large, one-roomed cottage a short ways up the hill, across from the elementary school. She and her house mates spent all day at the college and returned to their cottage after dinner in the dining hall. There was Sudha, a Hindu from North India; June Bartlett, a Christian from Canada, with whom she is still in touch to this day; Iona Extross, another Christian girl from Bombay; and her very dear friend Nozin, a Buddhist from Tibet, who would play a pivotal role in Sudha’s destiny.

Out of her three roommates, Sudha was most drawn to Nozin. She was the only student from Tibet attending St. Bede’s, although there were lots of Tibetan boys in the nearby Bishop Cotton School. Tibetan girls were rarely encouraged to go to college, but Nozin’s parents were members of the Darjeeling Tibetan gentry and quite progressive. They believed their daughter should have a higher education. She was very bright and spoke excellent English, having attended a Christian convent school in Darjeeling before transferring to St. Bede’s. Nozin had a charismatic personality and a keen sense of adventure. She was great fun, a good sport, and so proud of her heritage that she always dressed in Tibetan attire.

Nozin was not only Sudha’s special friend; she was also her Tibetan historian. Up to this time she knew nothing about “The Forbidden Land,” because at that point in history, Tibet was shrouded in mystery. With all the upheaval and change happening in India post-Independence, few people took any interest in that obscure part of the world. While the other roommates gossiped and reminisced about home, Nozin would have Sudha mesmerized, soaking up every detail of her exotic homeland, its people, culture, dances, and traditions. They even practiced Tibetan songs. Sometimes when Nozin was feeling particularly jovial, she would put on a special Tibetan outfit and dance for Sudha, but most importantly she enlightened Sudha with stories of the Buddha and of Tibet’s beloved leader, the Dalai Lama.

Nozin’s father, the Indian trade agent, was posted in Gyangtse, located between Lhasa and Gangtok. When his trade representative would pass through Simla, he would always bring Nozin Tibetan goodies: churbi (dry cottage cheese), tma (dried soybeans) and yaksha (dried yak meat) and while Sudha was always game to try new food the rest of the girls turned their noses up at these exotic snacks, She found them to be delicious and in some strange way familiar. The dried yak meat was especially tasty.

Although the girls sometimes talked about boys and boyfriends, none of them had any boyfriends at school. One roommate Iona had a fiancé back in Bombay and several of Sudha’s other friends had boyfriends back home, but romance was not tolerated between the girls at St. Bede’s and the boys attending Bishop Cotton, the brother school, just to the other side of St. Peter’s Church. While they often met the boys in front of the church and enjoyed themselves thoroughly, socializing with the opposite sex was completely platonic. Sometimes they would arrange surreptitious, though still innocent, liaisons. They would climb out on the roof of the veranda and the boys would climb the roof from their side of the church and there they would eat snacks and chitchat about their studies.

Surprisingly, the girls never talked about their future married lives. Sudha did not even think about it. Most of the Hindu students knew that one day a marriage would be arranged for them and they all fully expected to lead mundane, subservient married lives. That was just the way it was back then, but Sudha didn’t worry about marriage at all. She was fascinated with journalism and aesthetics, not art as an artist but the application of art to various areas of life, and she concentrated on a future built around those interests.

These were exciting and rewarding years, as she formed friendships and bonds that would last a lifetime, but the students at St. Bede’s were not altogether sheltered from their country’s upheaval. It was now 1951, and since partition in 1947, the province of Kashmir had suffered enormous instability after its vacillating maharaja, Hari Singh, finally decided to side with India. This decision led to renewed fighting between India and Pakistan. Kashmiri civilians were often caught up in the violence. That year Pakistani tribal raiders attacked the convents in Kashmir, raping, murdering, and looting for days in one of most widely publicized and infamous acts of the war. The atrocities sustained by the female Hindu students were so devastating that their terrified families sent them to St. Bede’s, hundreds of miles away, for their safety.

These girls were all extremely traumatized in the beginning, clearly suffering from what we now call post-traumatic stress disorder. Mother Felix appointed a trained counselor to sit with them for an appointed hour a day and be available to them at all other times. She also encouraged the students to interact and talk to them. Slowly these girls began to open up, detailing the carnage they had witnessed. They described how the nuns had been violated, nuns, priests, and patients at St. Joseph’s Hospital murdered, their school plundered and burned down, and how, fearing for their very lives, they had run away. The appalling tales they relayed were a harsh awakening to the randomness and brutality of war. While the girls at St. Bede’s were taking for granted the security and safety of their homes, schools, and colleges, these girls had faced a completely different reality and an unimaginable aspect of human violence.

Weeks and even months later many of them were still in shock. They needed all the sympathy and encouragement the girls could give them. Sudha found that just quietly sitting and talking with them showed she cared, and that made a world of difference. This insight led to a powerful realization about the meaning of compassion‚ the very concept Nozin was teaching in her friendly Tibetan tutorials. Learning the theory and seeing the absolute necessity of the practice at the same time was life altering. This was a lifetime lesson for young Sudha, the gift of the Buddha, dear friends, her loving family, and of course an understanding of her own karma. During that period, Sudha and Nozin made it their mission to be emotional witnesses for those tormented girls. It was often difficult to be open to their pain, but the two budding Bodhisattvas helped them through some of their darkest days.

The next year tragedy struck even closer to Sudha’s heart. In October of 1953, great floods occurred in Gyangtse, and Nozin lost both her parents. Tibet is a country where there are never any floods, and in Nozin’s parent’s town of Gyangtse, on the high plateau, it rarely even rained or snowed. It just froze. This was a freak flood where water from one of the lakes broke its boundary, tearing through the eroded embankment. The lake water rushed down and swept across the plains of Gyangtse, leaving great devastation in its wake. Horses, livestock, and people were just carried away in the torrent. That was the fate of Nozin’s parents. When she received this terrible news, the entire student body and faculty were heartbroken; it affected everyone at the college.

Sudha sat helplessly watching Nozin, in shock and grief, pack up her belongings to return to Darjeeling where her younger siblings, now orphans, were waiting for her. Of course they all knew she would not be back. With her parents gone, the responsibility of the children was now hers alone.

Sudha missed Nozin terribly after she left. She couldn’t stop thinking about what a huge calamity had befallen her friend and prayed for her to have the strength to face this new life, one of great struggle. She was only seventeen, and now she would be both mother and father to her orphaned siblings. The two friends made the effort to keep in touch through letters, Sudha knew her notes would provide solace and support. She also sensed Nozin was part of the unfolding tapestry of her life. While we all have free will to make choices, karma puts people, places, and situations in our path, sometimes repeatedly and most of us have a sense when someone is important in our life’s story, whether or not we heed it. Sudha was definitely the sort to heed it. She knew she would meet up with Nozin again one day.

They saw each other briefly when she returned to take the final exam that would qualify her for teaching, and Sudha was inspired seeing her young friend so resolute and strong, already a woman when she still felt very much a little girl. Despite her youth, Nozin had started a nursery school in Darjeeling, the town her parents had adopted. Her school was instantly successfully and something she is proud of to this day.

After matriculation, the nuns at St. Bede’s chose Sudha to take the Senior Cambridge exam, thinking she was the best prepared to represent the school. She earned a first division, sixth place position in the state and a college scholarship that she donated to the next student in line, who needed it more than she. This was in deference to her father’s wishes.

After successful completion of twelfth grade and the matriculation exam, Sudha stayed at St. Bede’s for the two years it took to earn a bachelor’s degree. The course of study included a teacher training course and three disciplines: a language, political science, and history. The first year was devoted to studying education and the second year to concentrating on the three disciplines. College life at St. Bede’s was markedly more serious and the studies more time-consuming and difficult. They all had to keep their noses to the grindstone and had hardly any time for recreation. Sudha didn’t mind. She loved school and had lots of dreams, topmost being to study journalism following graduation.

She was familiar with some women journalists who were working for newspapers and imagined their lives as exciting and rewarding. She wanted to be one of them. She got so far as to apply for a journalism course at the University of Syracuse, the Harvard of Journalism, and was admitted, but by that time her father had suffered a heart attack, leaving him feeling vulnerable, suffering financial setbacks, and anxious to settle his daughter. Her brother Ravi was already studying in Germany, and with her father’s dubious health her dream of journalism had to be shelved. Teaching was an accepted and well-respected career for women in those days, and the curriculum at St. Bede’s was excellent. In the end, her missed journalism opportunity was a god send, as her calling to be a teacher would serve both she and her future husband wherever they were posted.

Sudha graduated from St. Bede’s in March of 1954 at the age of nineteen. As a graduation gift her father took her on a whirlwind tour of Delhi. They stayed with her uncle and saw the all the sights and attractions of the capitol city; India Gate, the President House, and the Red Fort. Out of all the historic landmarks and attractions, ironically the main thing she remembers about the trip was her first introduction to alcohol. They were having lunch and a chat with her uncle in his hotel when her father unexpectedly said, “I think I will offer you a glass of cider.” Sudha thought it delicious but it was this coming-of-age moment with her father that she truly savored.

After the week they returned home to Agra where she began what turned out to be a very short job search. With her brand new degree and sterling reputation Sudha quickly landed a position, teaching third and fourth grades at her old school, St. Anthony’s. On the first day of her new career, she was understandably nervous; after all it not been that long ago that she was a student at this very school. Some of the present staff had been her teachers and she so wanted to make them proud. Her first principal, Mother Ursula Neary, was a wonderful middle-aged Irish nun, famous for offering support and confidence to newcomers. She and Sudha instantly hit it off and the two grew to be great friends. Sudha believes that through her inspiration she developed the strength to weather many a time of trial.

Her students were in the nine-ten age group, inquisitive, exuberant, and restless. While her extensive practical training came to her aid, she realized that what was most important was that every child was an individual with his own feelings and aspirations. It would be her job to nurture each of these unique mortal souls according to their needs and to see that self-esteem is maintained and promoted, not as it is done today in some places, without discipline, letting the children rule, but through caring support of the students’ natural gifts.

Sudha enjoyed teaching more than she expected. The more she interacted with the children, the more she enjoyed it, leading her to conclude that teaching was her destined profession. She was a popular teacher and many students remember her to this day.

This year was a great practical training period that made Sudha conscious, in her first position of true responsibility, of her love for humankind‚ particularly those without power because of their youth or social status. But most importantly, this year was a great practical training period that enhanced her humanity, laying a strong foundation for all of her future quests.