The family of Arsalan, a nineteen-year-old from Zaldagar, Srinagar protests in 2022 against his arrest by the National Investigation Agency The family of Arsalan, a nineteen-year-old from Zaldagar, Srinagar protests in 2022 against his arrest by the National Investigation Agency Losar Greeting

Tashi Delek!leoxplay philippines

Though in a borrowed gardenyou grow, grow well my sister.

This Losarwhen you attend your Morning Mass,say an extra prayerthat the next Losarwe can celebrate back in Lhasa.

When you attend your convent classeslearn an extra lessonthat you can teach children back in Tibet.

Last yearon our happy Losar,I had an IDLI-SAMBAR breakfastand wrote my BA final exams.My IDLIS wouldn’t standon my toothed steely forks,but I wrote my exams well.

Though in a borrowed gardenyou grow, grow well my sister.

Send your rootsthrough the bricks,stones, tiles and sand.Spread your branches wideand riseabove the hedges high.

Tashi Delek!

Tenzin Tsundue, Himachal Pradesh

When it Rains in Dharamsala

When it rains in Dharamsalaraindrops wear boxing gloves,thousands of themcome crashing downand beat my room.Under its tin roofmy room cries from insideand wets my bed, my papers.

Sometimes the clever rain comesfrom behind my room,the treacherous walls lifttheir heels and allowa small flood into my room.

I sit on my island-nation bedand watch my country in flood,notes on freedom,memoirs of my prison days,letters from college friends,crumbs of breadand Maggi noodlesrise sprightly to the surfacelike a sudden recoveryof a forgotten memory.

Three months of torture,monsoon in the needle-leafed pinesHimalaya rinsed cleanglistens in the evening sun.Until the rain calms downand stops beating my roomI need to console my tin roofwho has been on dutyfrom the British Raj.This room has shelteredmany homeless people.

Now captured by mongoosesand mice, lizards and spiders,and partly rented by me.A rented room for homeis a humbling existence.My Kashmiri landladyat eighty cannot return home.We often compete for beautyKashmir or Tibet.

Every eveningI return to my rented room.But I am not going to die this way.There has got to besome way out of here.I cannot cry like my roomI have cried enoughin prisons andin small moments of despair.

There has got to besome way out of here.I cannot cry,my room is wet enough.

Tenzin Tsundue, Himachal Pradesh

(Tenzin Tsundue is an Indian-born Tibetan poetleoxplay philippines, writer, and activist. He is the author of four books which have been translated into 15 languages. Tsundue has been jailed several times for his protest actions for the cause of Tibet.)

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