You Will Forever Be Remembered as a Rangzen Warrior: A Tribute to Gen Lhasang Tsering La

What a sad and tragic irony. Only yesterday evening, I was introducing Gen Lhasang La to my uncle’s daughters. As we watched his interviews and read his poetry, they were struck by his commanding presence and his steadfast warrior spirit. It feels unbelievable that he has passed so soon after. But I find comfort in the fact that they came to know him and his legacy while he was still with us, rather than just through the memorial tributes to which we have become so accustomed. May he return in a swift rebirth and through many future incarnations, carrying that same indomitable spirit.

Not long ago, I wrote a poem on Gen Lhasang Tsering la’s commitment and character. Although I had read his poetry, I hadn’t seen any of his interviews or speeches. Initially, I thought my poem captured his essence well. However, after watching a video interview where he expressed his anger through non-verbal cues, I was struck by his depth. Upon re-reading my poem, I felt it fell short of doing him justice. My words seemed inadequate to describe his dedication, courage, and unwavering commitment to the Tibetan cause.

During my time working at Tibetan Youth Congress, I had the privilege of meeting him on several occasions. One notable instance was when he visited our office, seeking someone to type out part of his handwritten book. I agreed to help, and he was grateful, even offering me his laptop as a token of appreciation. However, I declined, suggesting he give it to someone who might assist him further in the future. This was shortly after the first COVID-19 wave, and he was planning to publish the book once restrictions were lifted. Although he visited Delhi to find a publisher, he returned disappointed. Despite my reminders, I didn’t hear about the book’s progress afterward. I also had the opportunity to escort him to the hospital on several occasions.

February 13, 2022: At the well-known Juduk Kupchak. A memorable afternoon spent having sweet tea and presenting one of my poems to Gen la.”


One day, I received a call from the Tibetan settlement officer regarding Gen La’s health condition, and we immediately rushed to his house. We found him lying pale and weak on his bed, likely having gone without food for a while. Fortunately, he was still breathing; otherwise, his condition might have been mistaken for something more severe. We carefully lifted him onto a sheet and transported him to the ambulance through the steep stairs of his house.

We rushed to Delek Hospital, with the TYC Vice President accompanying him in the ambulance while I followed on my bike. Upon arrival, the nurse administered an injection—something he would normally resist with all his strength. But this time, he was too weak. His body had deteriorated; he lacked the energy to fight back against the injection or any other medical treatment. His foot had lost its natural flesh tone, appearing dry and lifeless. He could barely speak. But once he regained consciousness, he softly murmured, “I want to return.” Someone beside him asked, “Return where?” Lying on his deathbed, Gen La responded, “I want to return… return to the country I came from.” This statement gave me a goosebumps, inspired me and made me reflect on his unwavering determination to return to a free Tibet. It was a dream that consumed his every sleepless night and a thought that never left his mind—even as he walked back and forth from McLeod Ganj to TCV and from McLeod Ganj to Dharamkot. His stomach skin was dry and loose, a sign of having gone without food for days.

Taken on June 7, 2024, shortly after Gen la was hospitalized. He had become so frail and pale that he no longer had the strength to resist the injections.

He received treatment, and when I visited Delek Hospital the next day, his daughter had arrived. She was doing her best to care for him—massaging his frail body and gently feeding him spoonful of soup, though he could barely swallow.

On another day when I visited him, he had regained some strength—he was eating chopped fruits and could move his body again. At one point, he said something in Tibetan, but his daughter seemed to have missed it. She asked him to repeat it in English. Gen La grew furious, turned his back to her, and refused to speak for a while. He is a true warrior, one who longs for his daughter and all Tibetans to return to a free Tibet—not as outsiders who barely speak Tibetan or understand its unique culture and identity, but as proud Tibetans. His frustration wasn’t just with his daughter—it was with himself. Having studied in an English-medium school, he was angry at his own fluency in English while struggling with his Tibetan writing skills.

Gen La has always been vocal about the misuse of terminology when countering the CCP. Time and again, he would visit the office, meticulously pointing out technical errors in our statements or pamphlets, always arriving with his well-written pencil notes. He observe everything we do, often watching as he passed by the office. One day, while walking along Bhagsu Road below the TYC office, he noticed something that compelled him to come straight inside. He told us, “The Tibetan national flag on our pole is caught between the threads and isn’t flapping freely like the TYC flag on the other side.” Gen La had come specifically to ensure that the national flag flew as proudly as the TYC flag. His patriotism is unmatched, and his dedication has inspired many young Tibetans like myself.

Gen Lhasang la’s passion for Tibet is palpable when he speaks about our nation. He conveys his thoughts with conviction, speaking from both the mind and heart. This sincerity is a rare quality, especially among many younger generations. I’ve noticed that many Tibetan experts, despite discussing grave issues, often struggle to convey the gravity of the situation through their tone and facial expressions. They may smile or appear nonchalant, undermining the seriousness of the matters they’re addressing, such as the critical issues facing Tibet.

What strikes me about Gen Lhasang la is his ability to convey the gravity of Tibet’s situation through not only his words but also his tone, facial expressions, and body language. I’ve had the privilege of watching his interviews, and his emotions resonate deeply. He speaks his heart out, and his sincerity is inspiring and encouraging.

I admire Gen Lhasang la’s strength in expressing his outrage against the CCP’s atrocities, both verbally and through his non-verbal cues. His commitment to the Tibetan cause is a beacon of hope, and I don’t think I am the only one who aspire to emulate his conviction and passion.

Taken on 27th August 2022, during the TYC General Body Meeting open ceremony held at Imperial Heights.

Despite his wholehearted commitment to the restoration of Tibetan independence, Gen Lhasang la faced significant backlash and criticism from those who mistook his political stance for opposition to His Holiness the Dalai Lama. In reality, he never stood against His Holiness; he simply disagreed with the Middle Way Policy. When it comes to pure loyalty and trust, none of us can match Gen la’s devotion.

I am reminded of an incident from his childhood at Wynberg-Allen, an English school. One of the sisters looking after the children saw news of the tragedy in Tibet and prayed aloud, ‘May God save the Dalai Lama and his people.’ Young Gen Lhasang la became furious and told her: ‘My God, the Dalai Lama, is not inferior to your God. He does not need your God’s support; he is capable of overcoming this tragedy himself.’

That was his instinctive response. Who among us has that level of fierce reverence and respect for our leader?

26 November 2023: Sharing sweet tea with Gen la on Temple Road, McLeod Ganj.

Another School Shut Down in Tibet

In memory of the Ragya Ganjong Sherig Norbu Lobling, which was recently closed due to oppressive Chinese policies. This closure is part of a broader pattern of cultural suppression, aimed at erasing Tibetan identity and assimilating Tibetans into Chinese culture. The forced enrollment of Tibetan children in Chinese-run boarding schools, without access to Tibetan cultural curricula, is a violation of their rights and a threat to their cultural heritage. We urge the international community to uphold the principles of Freedom of Education and take action to prevent the destruction of Tibetan culture, which constitutes cultural genocide.

Another School Shut Down in Tibet!

As I peer through the cracking walls,

My heart sinks at the sight before me,

Schools being shut down, one by one,

By force, it feels like a terrible dream.

Sweeping away the essence of our nation,

Leaving our identity in tatters,

Like whispers carried away by the wind.

The trees now grow tall in full gloom,

Soon to dry and die in the empty campus,

As will the branches bearing fruit and wisdom.

Students, once vibrant as spring blossoms,

Now scattered like leaves in autumn’s cruel wind.

Roofs collapse, walls crumble,

Ancient wisdom fades to mere echoes,

In halls where young minds once flourished.

Classrooms now chained by spider webs,

Dust conquers desks in silent victory,

Mother tongue chokes, gasping for air,

Culture suffocates behind locked doors,

Young hearts starved of truth and heritage.

As the doors are closed,

And gates barricaded and blocked,

The walls crack and cry in silence.

The trees’ gentle, caressing whispers vanish,

Elders watch, their eyes clouded with sorrow,

As traditions crumble like sand castles.

Identity bleeds from forced wounds,

A nation’s soul dimming with each closed door.

In the silence of this loss,

The world turns, unseeing, unhearing.

Another school falls in Tibet, And with it, a nation’s identity.

By Sonsnow

#rights #education #poem #tibet #freedom

མིག་ཆུ། Tears

Namkyi, a former political prisoner, sheds tears as she speaks of the torture she endured under Chinese repressive rule.

Tears,

They have shed tears for too long,

If they were a glacier, it would eventually dry up one day.

The warmth of heart will wither away,

If they were a river, one day their flow would cease,

And hope would wither away, like a fading breeze.

If they were an ocean, even its vastness would turn into a dunes,

And happiness’s smile would set, like the sun in a distant land.

Tears are mere droplets, a symbol of our deepest longing,

But they cannot quench our thirst,

nor ease our heart’s tormenting.

Tears alone cannot sustain us,

nor can they quench the fire within.

Even our heart aches within

For the freedom we seek, let us march forward, undaunted and unbroken,

until we claim our victory.

By Sonsnow

ཁུ་བྱུག་དང་ཕ་ཡུལ།

དྲན་ཐོ།

ཁུ་དབྱུག་དཔྱིད་ཀྱི་རྒྱལ་མོའི།

དཔྱིད་དཔལ་བསུ་བའི་གསུང་སྙན།

གཞན་ཡུལ་ས་མཐར་གྲགས་པའི།

བདག་བློ་ཁྱུང་བྱའི་སྙིང་ཁ།

དྲན་གདུང་གླིང་སུ་བརྫངས་སོང་།

ཕ་བཟང་བུ་ནས།

When the cuckoo bird sings its spring songs, 

Heard loud and clear across distant lands, 

My heart, like the Chung bird’s, 

Suffers the weight of homesickness, 

My spirit, still longs the distant homeland. 

By Sonsnow

It Pains Deeply,

In the shadow of forced relocation, my words stand as a beacon of solidarity for the resilient souls of Kham Dege, who continue to suffer under the Chinese repressive rules.

It pains deeply!

The pain runs deep within

As I see my countrymen crying in despair

Pleading with hands folded

Kneeling before the oppressors

Prostrating before the perpetrators

It’s a pain that cuts through, raw and tight.

It hurts, oh it hurts so deeply,

This was never our norm

When our warriors commanded half the globe,

When emperors from China bowed to our spiritual guides,

When the Chinese trembled at the might of Sogtsen Gampo.

We were never this desperate,

We fought for what was rightfully ours,

We never begged, never pleaded,

We stood firm against intruders,

Our mountains, resilient and strong

Against the bombs , they never bowed

Never surrendered to the Great Wall’s shadow,

They stand tall, unwavering as ever.

Awaken, my warriors,

It’s time to rise and resist.

By Sonsnow

ལྷ་བསང་།

ལྷ་བསང་།

མཆོད་རྟེན་ཆེན་མོའི་མདུན་ནས།

སྐྱབས་ཆེན་ལྷ་ཚོགས་རྣམས་ལ།

ལྷ་གསོལ་ལྷ་བསང་བཏང་སྟེ།

ལྷ་མིའི་དམ་ཚིག་བརྟེན་ཆེད།

བསང་ཕུད་དྲི་ཞིམ་ཕུལ་ཡིན།

ལྷ་གླུ་གསོལ་བའི་མཆོད་པ།

དུ་བ་བསང་རྫས་ནག་པོ།

ནམ་མཁའི་དབྱིངས་སུ་ཁྱབས་ཏེ།

ལྷ་ལམ་འགོག་པར་བྱུང་ཚེ།

བཤགས་པ་སྔོན་ནས་འབུལ་ལོ།

ཕ་བཟང་བུ་ནས།

Before the Sacred Stupa in Boudha,

I conducted a Sangsol, a ritual purification,

Offering to the deities of great refuge.

I offered Sang, the sacred scent,

To fortify the samaya of gods and humans.

Offerings of the gods and deities,

The smokes and the Substance rise,

Flew high and wide in the sky

Should it obstruct the god’s sacred path,

I begin with a confession, seeking forgiveness.

By Sonsnow

Before the Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu

A Burning Flame for Freedom

A Burning Flame for Freedom

A burning flame for Freedom!


Under the occupation and oppression
You stood strong against the repression,
For a little shine of Freedom
Your fists raised high, so as the slogans,
In the face of injustice and unlawfulness
You hold to truth too tight,
Unbowed, you ran with all your might
Banned flags waving, a courageous sight,
Though flames consumed, you never waned
Against oppression and repression, you stood strong,
Your call and fist of Freedom
you raised them with a powerful voice,
Your body consumed and your voice taken away
But you rose and resist, until your last breath,
Your light will shine day and night
Through highs and lows, your names endure,
Echoing from the Himalayan mountains
Across the world, your slogans ring,

Free Tibet, Free Tibet, Free Tibet

 
By Sonsnow

  • In loving memory of the Tibetan martyrs, who made the ultimate sacrifice through self-immolation for the cause of Tibet.

A Homely Call

During our short stay in Ladakh.

A Homely Call 

Amidst whispers of the willow tree 

Here I sleep so sound and free,

Listening to the wrathful rushes, Indus’ gentle song  

The lullaby from the far distance, where I belong 

Beneath the blue sky and the twinkling stars,

Here I sleep so deep and free as if it’s all ours,

Imagining the wonders of a faraway homeland,

I can’t stop missing home, where my return was banned,

By Sonsnow

ལྷག་དཀར་བསུ།

ཕ་ཡུལ་གངས་དཀར་ལྷུན་པོའི།

གཟི་འོད་ཉམས་འདུག་མ་གསུང་།

གོང་འཁྲིགས་ཁ་ནག་སྤྲིན་ནག

ཁ་འཐོར་དགུ་འཐོར་བྱུང་དུས།

གཟི་འོད་ངང་གིས་འཕྲོ་ཡོང་།  

ཆོལ་གསུམ་ཕུ་ནུར་སྡང་བའི།

དགྲ་བོ་ཤན་པ་ལག་དམར།

མནའ་ཤག་གྲོགས་ཡིན་མ་གསུང་།

ཁ་དན་ཚིག་གནས་མེད་པར།

རང་ཁྱིམ་བཅོམས་པ་མ་བརྗེད།

ཕ་བཟང་བུ་ནས།  

Tell me not 

That the heavenly high peaks have lost their light,

It gleams beyond clouds, pure and bright.

As black shrouds part and the sky unfurls,

Peak’s radiance grows, unfettered and pearls. 

To my siblings in all three traditional land and place,

It is an oppressive foe, a ruthless face.

Speak not of bonds that friendship ties,

Remember deceit veiled in friendship’s guise.

With words so sweet and deeds that lacked core,

Our land was seized, its fate hard to swallow.

By Sonsnow

Let us stand by our Sister’s side

( Let us stand by our Sister’s side )

Yesterday, he restrained from raising his hand to her,

But today, he rapped her in a fit of rage,

The gentle touch replaced by violence’s stir,

Leaving her trapped in a cruel, dark cage.    

Once, he cherished her as a sister dear,  

A smile that radiated warmth and care,  

But now, that affection has disappeared,

Replaced by humiliation she can’t bear.  

Respect was shown, like all daughters and sisters,

She was valued for her worth and her soul,

But today, she’s silenced, her voice now whispers,

A victim of a world that’s taken its toll. 

 

He once stood tall with honor and grace,

A role model for others to admire,  

But today, he’s lost in a twisted chase,

And his virtuous heart seems to expire. 

 

Let us not be bystanders, blind and mute,

But champions of justice, strong and bold,

Together we can change this dark pursuit,

And heal the wounds that time’s hands have told.

   

Yesterday we were proud men,

And today we feel ashamed,

But together, we can rise again,

To a brighter future, unrestrained.

By Sonsnow