My Talk with the Dalai Lama
by RAGHAVAN IYER 1961
LONDON, EAST AND WEST LTD. 1961
I MUST warn you at the very outset that I propose to
speak to you this afternoon not as former President of the Oxford
Union, nor as an Oxford don. I want to abdicate this role and speak to
you as a seeker and a pilgrim, because that was the way in which I went
to the Dalai Lama. That is the only justification for my trying to tell
you what he said to me during that memorable and moving interview which
he graciously granted me last March, exactly a year after his exile
from Tibet into India. I feel that I must share with you my
recollections of what he said to me, particularly in view of his own
feeling about this country. He regarded England as a force for good in
the world of to-day, as playing a most unique role in the West. He said
that London was the spiritual and ethical centre of Europe and when I
asked him whether this meant that many wise souls had begun to take
incarnation in this country, he assented. He also stated that even the
Government in this country was more aware of the position of Tibet than
perhaps in any other country of the West. I feel, therefore, that I
ought to tell a sympathetic audience of this sort, as faithfully as I
can recall it, what the Dalai Lama said to me in answer to a number of
questions that I put to him.
I must first make some preliminary remarks about the
distinctive significance of the interview, and the difficulty of
reproducing it this afternoon. The Dalai Lama is a remarkable man by
any standards, rare in any age but perhaps unique in ours. He is five
years younger than I am, and yet throughout the interview I knew I was
in the august presence of a man who is ageless, who could assume a
variety of poses, utterly without affectation. He was wise and
benevolent, but also art-less and child-like; he was intensely
involved, yet deeply detached, in every utterance; he was a most
lovable man of a divinely meek disposition but he was also something
else. He was an impassive, impersonal presence. He spoke as a pure
vehicle, as something greater and grander than normally manifests to
man. He did not claim to be, one never thought he was, perfect or
infallible, but in his company I felt the freshness of immense personal
purity, a visible holiness that shone out of an inner wholeness. And
not only that I felt that almost for the first time I was communicating
effectively and adequately with another human being, and I want to say
this at the beginning because it is so difficult to bring back to this
kind of atmosphere or perhaps to any other the manner of the
communication that took place between the Dalai Lama and myself. All
distinctions of personality vanished. There was not the slightest
consciousness of the tricks or even the inappropriateness of language.
He spoke in Tibetan; I spoke in English with the help of a competent
interpreter. He under-stood my English, but I did not understand his
Tibetan. Yet right through the interview I felt that here was a man who
was articulating every single relevant thought that he had in his mind.
If his language was careful and succinct his thought was controlled and
precise. Far from merely trying to do the right thing by his
interrogator, far from being simply polite all that, he was wholly
absorbed in the strenuous process as exactly, as pointedly as language
would allow, each significant thought that arose in his mind in
reference to each enquiry that I raised. This, I suggest, was a most
uncommon method of communication. Throughout we both felt that we were
human beings beyond peculiarities that affect the limitations of
personality. He gave me a sense of equal participation, a sense of
something more glorious than either of us, which I have never before
had, and which in fact contrasted soon after this interview with other
imposing personalities that I had the privilege of meeting in India.
I now invite you to consider two statements of
Eastern wisdom. There is a passage in the Bhagavad Gita, the classic
scripture of the Hindu tradition, in which Krishna says to Arjuna, In
whatsoever way men approach me, in that way also do I assist them.”
There is also an aphorism in a Tibetan text, “Thou canst not travel on
the path before thou hast become that path itself” This is a
paradox—how to put oneself in advance in that very position in which
alone one could properly receive and which one aspires to attain. This
was the challenge that I faced.
To translate this into more familiar terms. I urge
you to show “a willing suspension of disbelief.” in a Wordsworthian
sense, in receiving what the Dalai Lama had to give me.
As I have said something about my own attitude to
him and to Tibet surely I must show how I came to a position where I
felt this special sanctity about the Dalai Lama. Twenty years ago,
sometime after the conferment of the traditional sacred thread, I began
to feel dubious about decadent orthodoxy of present-day Brahmanism, I
gradually became more and more aware through Theosophy of the inner
identity, the harmony between primeval Hinduism and pure Buddhism, been
largely forgotten in India through the centuries, and I drew
increasingly to Tibet. I was fortunate to have as a spiritual teacher
in India who spoke to me several times, in the fifties, of what the
tragedy that lay ahead for Tibet and for the whole world. He told me
that after the tragic events that were about to take would be a new and
unprecedented coming together of India and Tibet, that we would enter a
new phase of history for Asia and the world. Before the end of this
century active centres of initiation would be set up in India..
Orthodoxy Would everywhere retreat. A new spiritual force would emerge
with a profound message for the world as a whole.
So I had been prepared, in a manner of speaking, for
the recent events in Tibet that have troubled us all. But although I
had been told these things I must assure you that I took these remarks
with due deference but without, of course, any burning sense of
urgency. In May, 1958, my mentor wrote to me from India: “‘Night cometh
‘ no man shall work,’ and this aphorism has several implications.” In
August he passed away, at the age of seventy-seven.
In March of last year, two weeks before the great
descent of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama into India, there came into my
hands by the strangest of coincidences (what we in the East would call
karma or destiny) a little book by the Russian painter and traveller,
‘Nicholas Roerich, called The Heart of Asia,
published thirty years ago in 1929. In that book Roerich did not just
repeat well-known travellers tales about Tibet. He spoke freely and
frankly about some of the ancient prophecies that he had, heard during
his enchanting expedition to Mongolia and Tibet. He spoke about the end
of the old: order and the second Reformation in Tibet, about the
thirteenth incarnation of the Dalai Lama and about the taking over of
Tibet by the Panchen Lama, and, above all; about the new incarnation of
Shambhalla, and the terrible troubles that were bound to take place
before this great event.
Now I Want every one of you to put yourself in my
position. If a book of this sort came into your hands and you read it
with intense interest, and then two weeks after that event, without any
warning or expectation, you heard the sudden news of the tragic events
in Tibet and the providential escape of the Dalai Lama into India, I
think it would give you, as it gave me, a feeling that one was ready
for anything, that one had entered into a new and strange phase of
history that would, affect the world in ways unknown to us at present.
Having felt this, I also conceived the desire to see the Dalai Lama
during my next visit to India. I was able to arrange my trip early this
year.
As soon as I arrived in Delhi last March, I thought
that perhaps the best way of contacting the Dalai Lama would be though
the Ministry of External Affairs of the Government of India. Having
been myself briefly in Government service, I thought that would perhaps
be the easiest way to manage it. But very soon I found out that this
was really unnecessary and even undesirable, that the best way for me
to see the Dalai Lama was to write to him directly. The Government did
not want to act as an intermediary or a bridge or in any way come
between the Dalai Lama and those who wanted to see him. I therefore
wrote directly to the Dalai Lama without any expectation of reward or
result. I wrote about my own interest for twenty years in Tibetan
Wisdom, and the work I was now doing and left it entirely to his
convenience to give me an opportunity to see him if he thought fit.
Frankly, I was mildly pessimistic because I had been told that the
Dalai Lama was then about to move from Mussoorie in the hills near
Dehra Dun further north to Dharamsala. I also gathered that he had not
been seeing almost anyone for about a month. I was fortunate to hear
from his private secretary very soon. I was told that I could see His
Holiness at 11 a.m. on 28th March. It was, of course, almost exactly a
year since he had entered Indian territory.
I went on the 27th to Dehra Dun and left on the 28th morning for
Mussoorie. I asked a number of people about the formalities, and I must
say that in most cases I was greeted with surprise and scepticism. In
fact, very few people in the Indian cities could see the unusual if not
unique significance of the Dalai Lama. This depressed me because I knew
that in Oxford itself, and in England. when he left Tibet, even cynics
and scoffers as well as the popular press preserved a due deference
towards this remarkable man. And yet here in India I found many people
not to mention some scurrilous weeklies, pouring scorn upon the Dalai
Lama who, at the very least. was a helpless exile with an excellent
cause. Much fuss had been made about the physical treasure that he was
supposed to have removed from Tibet.
In Mussoorie I bought a white silk scarf, as was the
custom, to present to the Dalai Lama. I went straight to Birla House
where he was staying. I was told by the Government clerk there that the
Dalai Lama had not granted such an interview for some time, and that it
was not likely to last long. The moment I saw his secretary and was
conducted straight into the presence of the Dalai Lama, all my concern
about the interview vanished. I was greeted by this most radiant
personality with outstretched arms and from then on I was completely in
his hands. He beckoned me to a comfortable chair on his left. Straight
opposite him sat his courteous interpreter and secretary. Opposite me
on his right sat a most distinguished looking Lama with a powerful
countenance and gentle yet penetrating eyes; and I felt completely
disarmed by the Dalai Lama whose utterly restful and benevolent manner
came so naturally to him. Throughout the interview I was aware of the
encouraging response of the venerable Lama seated opposite to me.
When we were seated, there was a long pause, a spell
of silence during which time itself seemed to have come to stop. I
suddenly found that the questions which I had intended to ask him I
could not raise. And then I looked at him and said that I was deeply
sorry to belong to a people who did not at present appreciate his true
significance, who did not understand the inner meaning of his descent
into India. His Holiness was visibly moved, and then be seemed to
concentrate his gaze upwards on one particular spot on his right, at
which he looked while formulating his answers to all my questions. When
I spoke (in English) he looked at me. When he spoke (in Tibetan) he
looked at this point in space so that he could be wholly attentive to
what he wished to say. He said that he understood how I felt. But we
must be patient. People had begun to see the significance of what had
happened. These things would take time. We were dealing here not with
governments and officials, but with common people. Awareness was
already to be found among them of what had happened. This would
increase. Then he turned to me and asked me how long I planned to stay
on in Delhi. When I said that I was going to stay on until the
beginning of April, he wondered whether I might attend the Afro-Asian
Convention on Tibet, organized by Jaya Prakash Narayan I said that I
hoped to if I was in Delhi, at the time.
Then I asked him straight away, without any waste of
words, about the Panchen Lama, whether he was in touch with him, and
about his own role in relation to the events that were then taking
place. He paused and said with complete conviction that the Panchen
Lama was not a free agent, but he would not go against the needs of his
own religion, his own people, his own country. When I asked him whether
recent events were going to lead towards a far reaching Renaissance of
Buddhism, of Bodhi-Dharma or the Divine Wisdom, and whether we were
entitled to expect the new incarnation from Shambhalla, he assented but
also cautioned me most gently against any kind of determinism. Of
course we might know what was due to happen, but we must wait upon
events. We must not expect things to happen exactly in the order that
we might formulate in our own minds. He stressed that we were really at
the beginning of a process that was going to take quite some time, that
there was now even more evil in the world than had been expected by the
wise Lamas of Tibet. When he said this, he gave me the impression
that all the time the initiates with whom he was connected had to come
to terms with human free-will, and could not in advance lay down any
limits to the depths of human degradation in this dark age.
I must say that throughout the interview, as at this
point, when he spoke about evil in Tibet or anywhere else, he did not
speak as a man with a cause, he did not speak as a Tibetan, not even as
a custodian of an ancient community. He spoke entirely as a human being
seated on some kind of invisible summit but speaking about humanity,
about human nature, about the level to which it had begun to sink. As
he spoke I felt that any of the customary categories which we apply to
describe the contemporary malady would be misleading, not only that, to
do this would savour of spiritual conceit I then asked him a direct
question about the way in which the cause of Tibet could be advanced,
for example, in this country and generally in the West. He spoke with
feeling and joy about the work of the Tibet Society. He said that it
had done very good work in England, that it was a step in the right
direction, and it was in this connection that he said what I mentioned
at the very beginning about England and about the British Government.
Having said this, he went to suggest that I should
keep in touch with the Tibet Society with which I have been slightly
connected from the beginning, and he also spoke very warmly about Mr.
Beaufort-Palmer, who initiated the work of the Society. Then I asked
him as to whether in the work of the Society and generally in support
of the cause of Tibet, the political or the spiritual side of Tibet
should be stressed. Human rights violated. Should attention he drawn to
this and to the cause of Tibetan independence, or should one stress
much more the spiritual role of Tibet and the less obvious obstacles
that had been raised by intruders into Tibet? He said in answer to this
that it entirely depended upon circumstances, because we must not lose
sight of either aspect of the matter. He said that when people came to
stress entirely the political side, then it was the time for us to
speak about the indestructible aspect of Tibet. But when on the other
hand we had to speak about the spiritual “Tibet we must not underplay
the political importance of what had happened. He said with absolute
confidence that truth would ultimately triumph, but in our own sphere
there was great need to convey to the public around us the full
significance of events. He implied that this was not usually to be
found, that it was not only necessary not to exaggerate it was equally
necessary not to underestimate or play down, the true significance of
events.
Then he spoke about the significance of such events
to the whole world. He refered to a tremendous awakening that was
taking among large masses of people everywhere, quite independent of
ideology or the of states. He said that these newly-awakened forces all
over the world must find suitable focal points for effective
expression. This represented not merely the conscience of humanity but
also the new political awareness on a world-wide plane, the
indispensable and indivisible nature of the moral solidarity of
mankind. I asked him in this connection about the present predicament
of Tibet, and about conditions in Tibet. The Dalai Lama then spoke most
movingly about what was happening. He said that monks have been forced
to marry, there was desecration of monasteries and of shrines, that
although there was much to be reformed in Tibet the method of
reformation was wholly violent and wholly materialistic, and there was
no recognition of the moral law or the significance of Tibetan
tradition. He spoke with complete conviction about the inevitability of
the ultimate triumph of truth. I think he meant this in two senses.
Anyone who speaks about the cause of Tibet should do so with as much
purity as possible, that is, without bringing in irreverent epithets
derived from the language of the cold war. If one spoke simply and
directly about what was being done to human beings by human beings in
that part of the world, then the truth would shine. People would see.
Further, if more people began to do this on a world-wide scale the
truth in Tibet would shine, the truth of the great tradition that was
being torn apart by people to whom it meant nothing.
Then I asked him about his attitude to Communism,
and here, without pronouncing about Communism in general, he turned to
me and said with serene satisfaction that the danger of communism in
India had completely passed in the last few months. I thought perhaps
he was referring to what had happened in Kerala. In fact, he meant much
more than that—there was a new awareness among the common people all
over the country of the dangers of Communism in India. The sacrifice
and the ideation of unseen seers had helped large numbers of people to
see clearly, more clearly than before, the nature of Communism in
India.
At this point when talking about how we should
combat evil on the political plane. I mentioned to him my own interest
in Gandhi and that was writing a book on Gandhi. He spoke of him almost
as a forerunner of the new enlightenment. He said that the truths which
Gandhi embodied in his life were being increasingly recognized,
especially with the advent of nuclear weapons, by people in many parts
of the world. It was our duty to uphold the truth as we knew it even in
the company of people whose selfishness and short-sightedness prevented
them from seeing it. We must always attempt to do this as the mind of
man was mutable and the soul of man was unpredictable. We never could
say in advance when a person might respond to a genuinely moral and
spiritual appeal, based upon personal sacrifice and a clear formulation
of the truth as we understand it. However, we must recognize that there
were people conditioned to regard themselves and to behave simply as
animals, who showed no recognition of truth or the moral law or any of
the fundamental decencies of politics and of humanity. When such men
were ruthlessly opposed to our non-violent efforts, we must be
ready to realize, and have the courage to see, that to persist in them
would be a form of self-murder.
Then I turned to him and asked him whether he was referring to the
Dugpas, to sorcerers and to ‘soulless men.’ When I said this, his
interpreter could not translate it because the word ‘Dugpa’ has two
senses. Literally, it refers to an inhabitant of Bhutan, and using that
meaning his interpreter could not make sense of what I was saying.
There is another meaning to the word, meaning an evil being, or even a
sorcerer, and to my surprise this seemed to be unfamiliar to the
interpreter. But the Dalai Lama showed that he understood exactly what
I had in mind. The Dalai Lama hinted at an important point which was
understood by Spinoza in Europe but which is often ignored. There is no
real distinction in the long run between the true self-interest of a
person and an unpleasant duty. There were unfortunately people who
persisted in doing things which were going to harm them above all as
well as others. He spoke with quiet compassion about these ignorant
though cunning evil-doers. It would be most wrong for us, he implied,
to condemn them or to dismiss them out of the horizon of our sympathy,
as they did more harm to themselves than to other human beings,
although they could not see it. Sometimes people were able to see the
truth but through selfishness they could not apply it. There were also
people who were utterly misguided in their view of what was in their
own interest. If only they could know, if only they were not so
short-sighted through their own desperation and through their own false
concepts, they would see more clearly what was in their interest and
that this could not be so very different for different peoples. In all
conflicts the combatants ought to realize that their ultimate interests
were the same, but this was exactly what was so difficult. Therefore,
it was always the people who could stand outside a violent conflict in
any part of the world to-day, who, by their awareness of this ultimate
identity of interests between both sides in terms of their common
survival and in relation to the whole of humanity, could be an active
force for good. They could act as a check on the recurrent and
ever-increasing nature of evil, generated by folly, selfishness and
above all short-sightedness.
Then I turned to the important question of the
relations between Asia and Europe in our time. I mentioned my own
feeling that there had been for a long time some sort of glass curtain
between Asia and Europe, which was in great danger of being reduced in
the coming years to something like the Iron Curtain. He was very
interested in this and kindly promised a message for a book that I am
editing on this subject. Then he asked me what I thought would be, in
terms of my analysis, the likelihood of serious conflict. He asked me
this in such a way that I could not refrain from answering. I said, I
thought there was a real danger that certain fanatics in the Far East
and in Western Europe would play upon these traditional prejudices, and
suddenly the old, obscurantist clichés about Asia and Europe
would gain greater currency and be put to dangerous uses. He gravely
indicated that he shared this fear of growing antagonism. Although in
India Communism had receded, if Communism spread elsewhere, it would
link up with this ancient antipathy, and that would be a disaster.
The Dalai Lama then spoke with compelling concern
about China as an ancient civilization that had been going down for
centuries. He said it had been going down for a long time and it was
now in a militant mood. I asked him whether he feared that it would in
fact become more aggressive and move out into other areas of the world,
and even come to Europe. He said that though we must be prepared for
the worst, we must not be carried away by our pessimism. We should go
on speaking a language that was still understood by some people in
China. This I thought was most moving. We must not write off China and
adopt the hostile posture of the angry anti-Communists. There was still
in China a potential response to an ancient language that was part of
Chinese tradition, and we must go on speaking it in order to avoid war
or in preparation for the period after the great cataclysm.
Then he spoke in answer to another question about
the submerging of the spiritual tradition in Tibet which was taking
place at the same time as the subtle diffusion of spiritual teaching on
a much wider level in the outside world. He said that there had been a
time in the history of Tibet when a similar darkness prevailed. For
sixty to seventy years not a text was seen in public, not a monk was
allowed to move openly, and spiritual life was driven underground.
To-day there was a similar attack in Tibet upon the traditional system
of spiritual teaching, but this, of course, would not affect the
teachings themselves or their true custodians who would go into
retreat. At the same time in India and elsewhere, in India initially,
because that is where Tibetan thought was now beginning to move, there
would be a revival and a diffusion of Tibetan Buddhism. I must say here
that he never once used the phrase ‘Tibetan Buddhism’ because he was
not speaking about any ism. He used words signifying gnosis or wisdom,
the spiritual life, the Divine Religion or the Ancient Teaching. He
also referred, with utmost reverence, to the teaching and the name of
the Buddha, but he never used any word with a sectarian sound. Then he
spoke once again about a world-wide awakening that was now becoming
evident, not only on the political plane but even more on the religious
plane. There was a beautiful balance in his answers between the bright
and the darker side. He ever had his eye on the essentials. It was not
so important that people should call themselves by any partisan label
as that they should reveal in their lives an awareness of the teaching
of great spiritual instructors like the Buddha regarding the moral law
and the means to enlightenment. When I asked him about the pledge* of
Kwan-Yin and the choice between salvation and renunciation, he said
that true liberation must be for all and was, therefore, inseparable
from renunciation.[ * ‘Never will I seek nor receive individual
salvation; never will I enter final peace alone; but forever and always
will I strive for the redemption of every single creature from the
bonds of conditioned existence.”]
I then asked him about the spiritual treasures of
Tibet. The eye of the world being attracted to the externals of life,
was focused on the so-called physical treasure. But there must be
spiritual treasure which must have come with His Holiness into India.
Was I right in this surmise? He replied that priceless texts had been
moved out of Tibet well in time; these had never before left Tibet. Now
that these precious texts were on Indian soil, this land was blessed
thereby.
Then I asked him about the belief that the
Reformation of Tibet in the fourteenth century was connected with the
Reformation in Europe and that Tibet was also linked up with the
Enlightenment in eighteenth century Europe. Perhaps the time had come
for a new Enlightenment and Reformation in Asia, similar to the
secularization of spiritual teaching in the West. He agreed and said
that we need to translate spiritual and religious truths into a
political and social form.
The interview then ended on a personal note. I told
him again about my own work, and I also told him about my little son
who had shown intense interest in the Dalai Lama. He very kindly asked
his secretary to give me pictures of himself for my son, and also
copies of a Hindi translation of a Tibetan text, to which he had
written a short but extremely significant preface. In that preface he
spoke about the coming together of Tibet, the Land of Bodhi or Divine
Wisdom, and India, the Land of the Aryas (using the word in the
original, pure sense), the Land of Nobility. The last thing that he
uttered was in answer to a specific enquiry of mine for a last word, a
last bit of advice, and he said only this, that he was very glad that I
was keeping in touch with Jaya Prakash Narayan, for whom he had high
respect.
The interview was over. His Holiness gave me back
the white silk scarf that I had presented to him, as was the custom.
The security officers were puzzled at the length of the interview
because it went on for almost an hour and a half, but they were assured
that this had been entirely in accordance with the Dalai Lama’s wish.
Then they turned to me and said that not many people besides his
disciples came and talked about spiritual matters with His Holiness.
When I explained the nature of my interest in the Dalai Lama, one of
them, who had looked rather cynical about everything, said, “Actually,
for us too, although we do not show it, we find it deeply significant
that we are in his presence, and the more we see him and the people
round him, the more we respect him and his mother.” This I thought was
a very good note on which to end my own visit to Birla House and I left
in a state of exaltation and extreme gratitude.
Raghavan Iyer was a ULT theosophist. I found
this conversation here: http://www.phx-ult-lodge.org/study_referenc.htm
