Potala Palace – Borderless

Book Review by Somdatta Mandal

Title: Old Lhasa: A Biography

Author: M.A. Aldrich

Publisher: Speaking Tiger Book

“Contrary to common perceptions, Lhasa is not forbidden to outsiders” – M.A.Aldrich

Old Lhasa: A Biography, (a revised edition published in 2025 for the South Asian market of a book originally published in 2023), is a voluminous 615-page book that combines historical research, travel writing, religion, and culture to offer a comprehensive account of Lhasa, the capital city of Tibet. The author, M. A. Aldrich, is a lawyer who has lived and worked in Asia since the 1990s and had earlier published books on cities like Peking and Ulaanbaatar. Written on the basis of his multiple trips to Lhasa and its surroundings (the last one as late as September 2024), he is happy to discover that Old Lhasa has stood the test of time and still accurately captures the sight, sounds, and feelings of the city and foreigners can wander about freely without a minder so long as their papers are in order. As this book slowly emerged, it grew into both a portrait of the history and culture of that city as well as a serviceable guidebook for readers who are able to go to Tibet when political and regulatory circumstances permit.

Aldrich paints an intricate portrait of Lhasa, a storied city and its history, by giving us the evolution of how the Tibetan script came to be, with inspiration from ancient India and at the same time livens up the narrative with humorous anecdotes, interesting legends and charming fables that makes this book blend many genres into one. Divided into 49 chapters and enriched with several maps and black and white photographs, the chronological narration rightfully begins with the first chapter titled ‘Prelude to Lhasa’ where we are told that with Lhasa as the geographical focal point of their faith, Tibetans believe the dharma[1] has always been connected to their country. He begins the journey in the seventh century during the final moments of the life of Buddha, mentions specific Buddhist virtues such as compassion, wisdom, and benevolent power, among other essential qualities for the path to awakening. For Tibetan followers of the dharma, the history of Tibet is the history of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, which is simultaneously woven into the story of Lhasa.

In the 1920s, when Tibet enjoyed its greatest freedom from outside interference in the modern era, Lhasa had a population of only around twenty-five thousand. It was divided into two districts: one that is now the Old Town, with its seventh-century Jokhang Temple (or, more simply, the “Jokhang,” meaning the “House of the Lord”) at its centre; and the other being Shol Village, which is at the foot of Marpo Ri (Red Mountain). These administrative districts were divided by a north-south boundary that ran through the Turquoise Bridge, another structure dating to the seventh century. The Old Town was not much larger than two- or three-square kilometers, while Shol was even tinier. The residents of Lhasa at that time took immense pride in the religious heritage of their city. Nearly every luminary in Tibetan history had come to Lhasa because of the importance of the Jokhang as the focal point from which Tibetan civilization evolved and expanded. No other city could rival it.

Lhasa grew organically outward in concentric circles. Around 1160, a monk built the Nangkhor, a pilgrim’s circuit (korlam) directly adjacent to the inner sanctum of the Jokhang, so that devotees could practice the religious ritual of circumambulation. It is from this kernel that the boundaries of Old Lhasa came into existence. By the 14^th century, Lhasa was enclosed within the Barkhor, a kilometre-long korlam circling the temple and a monastery among other buildings. By the 1650s, Lhasa’s outer limits had been expanded to the Lingkhor, a ten-kilometre pilgrimage route. And so, the boundaries of the city remained until recently.

Lhasa’s significance also drew heavily upon the nearby presence of government buildings and monastic sects of learning. The Potala Palace, with its superb representation of Tibetan architecture, is a massive and dazzlingly beautiful fortress-like monastery that had been the residence of the Dalai Lama and the seat of the Tibetan government since 1648. Three monasteries outside the city were centres of the so-called Yellow Hat or Gelukpa School of Tibetan Buddhism, preserving a venerable tradition of scholasticism and monastic training that had been imported to Tibet from the universities at Nalanda, Odantapuri and Vikramshila in Northern India. Daily life in early 20^th century Lhasa was mostly grounded in religion for both the laity as well as the clergy. The Lhasa calendar year revolved around a sequence of religious festivals that tracked the flow of one month into another in a never-ending cycle of faith and devotion. Though religion permeated society, Lhasa was not an “other-worldly” place. In 1951, when the People’s Liberation Army marched into Lhasa behind portraits of Chairman Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai, and Liu Shaoqi, the days of the city with its self-administered culture were numbered. During the 1959 Tibetan Uprising, the Chinese Communist Party reacted to the civil unrest as if Tibet should be taught a lesson. The Party continues to do so despite brief intermittent periods of slightly relaxed policies. Though Chinese modernity has been imported wholesale into Lhasa, the author opines that Old Lhasa is still there in its people who maintain their centuries-old faith and customs. One just needs to know where and how to look.

In the Prologue, Aldrich had confessed that this is not a “serious book” about Lhasa as the term is understood within the narrow confines of modern academia, since its objective is only to share what he had learned about Lhasa with simpaticos. His audience is the general reader or armchair traveller with a basic understanding of the tenets of Buddhism and the broad outlines of Asian history. He does not go into great depth on religious theory, and he hopes his views might also be of interest to Tibetans who have come of age in the diaspora and are curious about what a non-Tibetan thinks of this fabled city. He attempts to avoid the excessive solemnity and despair that attends much writing about Tibet. It is not that he is ignorant of ongoing atrocities and the appallingly cruel policies of the Party, but he has no doubt Tibet will have a renaissance. He opines Tibetans will overcome the current dark cycle just as they have overcome other bleak phases in their history.

In conclusion, it can be said that even after reading it thoroughly and enjoying it, this book as the author rightly states, “will nudge readers to learn more about Tibet and Tibetan culture.” Also, as Dr. Lobsong Sangay, former head of the Tibetan Government in Exile, rightfully mentions in the ‘Foreword’

, “Though the story of Tibet is an ongoing tale of tragedy, it also is a tale of the human spirit and the resilience of the Tibetan people. …this book is a window for seeking genuine access that will help you make meaningful discoveries of your own, whether you are physically travelling through the streets of Lhasa or traveling through the pages of this book far away from Lhasa.”

[1] faith

Somdatta Mandal, critic and translator, is a former Professor of English at Visva-Bharati, Santiniketan, India.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Lunch with Baba Rinpoche in Kathmandu

A fiction by Steve Davidson

Like most people, I had always been fascinated by the ‘Celebrated Wisdom of the East’. Especially exotic was the ‘Ultra Mysterious Wisdom of Tibet’. So, when a university acquaintance in British Columbia mentioned that, through a personal connection, he could set up a meeting in Kathmandu with one of the most storied of all the lamas, Baba Rinpoche, I rose to the challenge.

As was his wont, in the springtime, Baba Rinpoche would be walking across the Himalayas, from Tibet to Nepal. I, being of a less transcendental bent, would be flying into Darjeeling, then taking a helicopter, Riddington’s Ride, into Kathmandu.

We connected for lunch at the Lama’s Lair, a miniature version of the Potala Palace in Lhasa, sat near the fire, and dined on vindaloo curry over basmati rice, with green tea. Baba Rinpoche is about five foot eight, lean, with a shaved head, and was wearing Ugg boots (“One must keep up with the times”), and a thick maroon robe. He moved with ineffable grace, spoke with excellent diction, seemed to have a permanent facial expression of subtle joy, and altogether radiated the cheerful serenity of perfect self-control. I was struck by the ultimate logic of his communication, then recalled that he had been a philosophy student at a highly regarded English university prior to the unfortunate incursion from Beijing, when he returned home to provide his people moral support.

When we met, he pressed his hands together, bowed, and said, “May peace be with you”. I asked him if that were a standard Buddhist greeting, and he said, “No, but, although I am a good man, I am my own man!” Pious, but a perky personality turned out to be part of his charm.

BR: Now, I understand you would like to investigate the obscure and storied “Wisdom of the East”. From that, I assume, you will essay to deduce lessons for good living in the West. I am not certain I am a repository for any knowledge you do not already possess. Nonetheless, I will be happy to respond to your questions with . . . something.

However, as I am a Tibetan monk, you must be prepared that some of my answers will in fact be . . . nothing. Silence.

Validating, I suppose, your initial premise of impenetrable Oriental mystery! But this is our Way. Take it or leave it!

Now, what may I tell you?

I: I really only have one question.

BR: And what is that?

I: Buddhists world-wide revere life itself. And that includes all the animals. But most

people feel that the only animals that really count are us. How do you explain your reverence for all life?

BR: Scaling.

I: Scaling?

BR: “Let us go then, you and I”, to quote Eliot, that American, who became a Brit, and then became a citizen of the world, a refugee of the wasteland, a wanderer in the rose garden of the mind. Where was I? Oh, yes. “Let us go then, you and I”, onto the plains of the Oriental intellect. Then let us go and make our visit to the room where the women come and go, speaking of the mystical Dao. Let us be prophets in our own land.

I: I think I already may have had too much green tea.

BR: Not possible. Now, one of the reasons Eastern thought seems obscure, not to say irrational, to Westerners is that Western thought is narrow, focused, and concrete, whereas eastern thought is broad. holistic, and abstract. Western thought was born on the Island of Samos, a small place, with many rocks. Eastern thought was born on the Gobi Desert, a large place, with much open sky. That scaling of geography emerges, like Houdini from an iron box, in the scaling of thought.

I: I am completely lost! And here I expected to go to all this trouble and at last nail down Eastern thought. But it’s already completely out of reach!

BR: Not to fret. You see, that is the first thing I told you—be at peace! Does a lotus flower worry if the Royal Orient Train will be on schedule? Does a perfect piece of jade brood as to whether anyone influential is admiring it?

We all have our place, and that place is here. We all have our time, and that time is now. We all have our person, and that person is us. Our most precious possession is our minds, and our minds are always present. Thus, we are secure. So, be of good cheer!

Logic is hard to master, yet terribly basic. But the logic of scaling is not so complicated. You’ll get it.

I: I’m going to have to take your word for it!

BR: You see. We’re already making progress! Consider Genghis Khan.

I: I’m lost again.

BR: Though no one in the West wants to admit it, Genghis Khan conquered the world. Nobody beat the terrible khan.

Think about this. One yurt, perfectly arranged, with military precision. One cavalryman, a masterful rider. Dead shot with bow and arrow. Comfortable in all kinds of weather. Tough as a piece of iron. Dedicated to the leader, and instantly responsive to commands.

Multiply that by two hundred thousand. Now you have a crack force that can level cities from the Yellow Sea to the Danube River.

That’s scaling.

I: I think I have had too much, or not enough, vindaloo curry. Maybe I should have had a hot dog.

BR: Enlightenment ever calls for patience.

Now, consider this. The Great Wisdom, which created the World, wants to create Life. The skies are in place. The mountains are in place. The seas are in place. But it would be nice to have some company. But, to build Life, a design is needed.

I: A blueprint?

BR: Even so.

Of what will Life be comprised? That is, what is the list of Qualities that go into what we think of as Life?

I: And that is?

BR: Perception that sketches out the nature of reality: wet and dry, hard and soft, sweet and bitter. Interpretation of perceptions: opportunity or threat, safety or danger. Identification and classification of pieces of reality: self or other, friend or foe, refuge or exposed field. Causal relations: this does this, and that does that. Social relations: this is my group, and we cooperate; that is their group, and we compete. Planning: I will go here and do this to get that, and to avoid the other thing. Emotions: I got what I wanted, so I feel good; I got injured, so I feel bad.

I: Wow. That’s a lot!

BR: Not so much, really. What in logic we call necessary and sufficient. A minimum set of Qualities necessary and sufficient to comprise what we think of as Life. Some life ranks higher on the complexity scale, naturally, and some life ranks lower on the complexity scale.

I: Ah, I think I may be getting this! Life is essentially the same, up and down the scale of complexity. The lowest level is essentially the same as the highest level.

BR: Even so.

I: The dolphins are a lot like us, the whales and the orangutangs, the parrots and the jaguars, the bears and the beavers. It’s the same basic system up and down! The scale doesn’t change the system. Is that right?

BR: Precisely, exactly so.

I: And that’s why Buddhists all over the world revere life itself, because it’s all essentially the same. “They” are all “Us”. “We” are all “Them”. Is that it?

BR: Spot on!

I: You know, I think I might have a little more vindaloo curry and green tea.

As we stood outside the restaurant, Baba Rinpoche hitched his small blue canvas backpack onto his shoulders and looked south into the sapphire mountain sky at a distant, huge, drifting, snowy cloud, as if trying to decide whether it was going to be friendly or unfriendly. “I am going to visit the Bodhi Tree, where Buddha found Enlightenment. I haven’t been there in years”. He mentioned that as casually as if he had said, “I’m going down to the market to pick up some tea”.

“But it’s hundreds of miles to that place,” I protested. “And you haven’t any money.”

He gave me one of those little serene smiles of his, and that placid look gazing a thousand years into the future, and said, “The world will provide”. And off he strode, zigzagging through afternoon traffic with the grace and ease of an Olympic skater.

And he was right. I paid for our lunch.

Guru Rinpoche (Tibetan “Precious teacher”) lived in the 8th-9th century. He was the founder of the Nyingmapa school of Buddhism in Tibet. Courtesy: Creative Commons

Steve Davidson is a psychologist from California, the author of the clinical textbook “An Introduction to Human Operations Psychotherapy”.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL