Each morning before dawn I wake to chanting, cymbals, horns and drums; I join the circumambulation of the temple, spinning prayer wheels and praying for the liberation of all sentient beings from suffering.
Little monks run about, children, chattering, gulping tea, leaping bushes, the older monks strolling slowly behind them. The sun rises over the mountain and another day of filmmaking in India begins. This is life at the monastery and university complex of the Drikung Kagyu Buddhist order in the hills above Dehradun. |
On the roof of the little house behind the temple, surrounded by sprays of red flowers, I practice yoga, then read in the sun, waiting for Rigyal to come. Rigyal is our liaison; he guides us around, sets up our interviews and introduces us to top people. He is also a reincarnate lama, a liberated being who returns to earth lifetime after lifetime to help ease the suffering of the world. Rigyal is 28 years old and very handsome, dashing in fact. He rides a Royal Enfield motorcycle (the Indian Harley Davidson), listens to hip hop music, loves horror movies, works out at the gym, and carries an iPhone. Each day we interview master dancers and teachers; interviews are held in the temples, beneath giant golden Buddhas. |
Most of the people I interview answer in Ladakhi (Rigyal asks my questions); not knowing what they are saying, I drop my attachment to getting a good interview and simply sit, enjoying the cadence and rhythm of their speech, the movement of their hands, their smiles, and the shining light in their eyes.
One afternoon we interview two nuns. There are very few nuns who dance. At first we are told it is likely they will not consent to the interview, but when we return the following day they had agree, thanks to Rigyal. They are very shy.
Everywhere we are treated like VIPs. taken straight to the abbots, directors and head teachers, and given personal tours. All thanks to Rigyal.
Everywhere we are treated like VIPs. taken straight to the abbots, directors and head teachers, and given personal tours. All thanks to Rigyal.
We are given access into the temples during puja (group prayer sessions including chanting, blowing horns, crashing cymbals and pounding drums) to film. Such an honor is staggering. I have always walked so cautiously in Buddhist temples, feeling out of place, overwhelmed by the importance of these sacred buildings. But to Rigyal the temples are simply other rooms in his home and he encourages us to be at ease. |
One afternoon after shooting I'm cleaning up gear from a pile in a corner (it's been our stash spot all day, and Rigyal himself has spent several hours on the floor using my lap top to sort his photos), the afternoon sun is sinking and shining in the door and suddenly I realize I'm all alone in the main temple. The light is incredible. I put my gear down and just sit in silent awe.
Our final night we tour the Songsten Library, housing one of the world’s foremost collections of Tibetan, Central Asian, and Buddhist literature. It is past dark and the library has closed, but the director gives us a personal tour. The big stone building is beautiful, the interior elegant; we could be in New York or Paris. Surrounded by banks of some of the world’s rarest and most important Buddhist scripts and scrolls, it seems we have left hectic India far behind. |
Afterwards we walk beneath the stars, discussing Buddhist philosophy, American movies, and digital camera techniques with Rigyal. He invites us to a farewell dinner in his rooms, and shows us his photo albums. Mixed amongst pictures of Rigyal as a kid is a snapshot of the Dalai Lama.
After dinner Rigyal borrows a car and drives us to an empty dirt lot where a Tibetan man sells bus tickets from the seat of his car. Rigyal sits with us on the bus until it begins to roll. It is almost sad to part from him, but we’ll see him again in March, on the other side of the Himalayas, in the ancient Central Asian kingdom of Ladakh.
After dinner Rigyal borrows a car and drives us to an empty dirt lot where a Tibetan man sells bus tickets from the seat of his car. Rigyal sits with us on the bus until it begins to roll. It is almost sad to part from him, but we’ll see him again in March, on the other side of the Himalayas, in the ancient Central Asian kingdom of Ladakh.
photos by Nathan Whitmont