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.

Read the Poem

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.

IMG_0737_Original — 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.

Confronting a Chinese Diplomat: A Tibetan Delegate’s UN Journal

My journey to the United Nations began, as many things do in our social media age, with a casual scroll through Facebook. A schoolmate now working in the CTA had shared a promotion for the Global Peace Summit in New York. Intrigued, I learned it was a prestigious event organized by the Global Peace Chain in cooperation with the Permanent Mission of Pakistan to the UN, drawing influential youth from around the world.

I applied, hoping for a fully or partially funded spot, and after paying the required application fee, I received an acceptance letter. My initial elation, however, was short-lived. I had been selected to represent Tibet, but in the self-funded category. The registration and travel fees seemed an insurmountable hurdle on my modest salary.

Just as I was about to give up, I reached out to a relative who lives in Boston. He gladly provided the financial support for the admission fees, but more importantly, he gave me a mission. He told me this was a crucial opportunity to represent our country and to “amplify the voice of the voiceless Tibetans inside Tibet, who look up to us to resolve the Tibet issue.” Empowered by his support, I applied for a Visa and secured it without difficulty. To save on costs, I arranged to stay with a friend in Jackson Heights, not far from the conference venue. Upon my arrival at the airport, I was met with a warm welcome; a friend’s friend was there to pick me up, and the secretary of the Regional Tibetan Youth Congress also came on behalf of the regional chapter.

The next day, we were informed that the first venue of the conference was at the United Nations Headquarters. I was carrying three Tibetan national flags of varying sizes, each one a symbol of our struggle and identity. My heart sank when security informed me that all delegate-carried flags were barred from the entrance. Though deeply disappointed, I took a moment to capture some pictures with photos of former UN Secretaries before proceeding into the main hall, determined to find another way to represent my country and the people.

Stepping into the UN hall was a surreal experience. I was struck by its architectural grandeur and deeply moved by the sight of the iconic seating arrangements where nations plead their cases. I had finally made it, and I was proudly representing my country, Tibet.

The topic of the High-Level Panel Discussion was “Youth Leadership and Global Diplomacy.” As I scanned the list of distinguished speakers, one name seized my attention: Ambassador Geng Shuang, the Deputy Permanent Representative of China to the UN. I knew him by reputation; he was the former, notoriously hardline spokesperson for the Chinese Foreign Ministry.

Immediately, I began formulating two questions, designed to expose China’s policies of eradicating Tibetan identity and to challenge their refusal to engage with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. As the Q&A session began, I raised my hand at every opportunity, but I was consistently overlooked.

The reason became clear later. An inside source confirmed my suspicions: the organizers had been privately instructed not to put the Chinese representative in an “uncomfortable” position. A wave of bitter disappointment washed over me. The one official platform I had, the one chance to speak truth to power on a global stage, had been censored.

But that feeling didn’t last long. As soon as the formal session concluded, the speakers and diplomats began mingling with the delegates. My disappointment was quickly replaced by a new determination. My eyes scanned the crowd, and then I saw him. Geng Shuang was interacting with a small group of Chinese delegates and some other foreign delegate. This was my real opportunity.

I knew I had to seize the moment. I asked another delegate to record what was about to happen and then approached him. I introduced myself as a Tibetan and immediately challenged him on the colonial boarding schools in Tibet, a system designed to eradicate the very identity of our people. As I spoke of the atrocities, he tried to cut me off, beginning with the predictable, dismissive line: “Since you haven’t been in Tibet, you don’t know the real situation…” But he paused, asking, “Where are you based? Where do you live?” It was a trap, designed to discredit me as an outsider.

I cut off his pre-scripted dismissal. “I escaped from Tibet,” I said, “and have been living in exile for over twenty years.”

He pressed, “How long were you in Tibet?”

“For more than ten years,” I replied.

“Then you know Tibet is part of China,” he stated, as if it were an undeniable fact.

I vehemently rejected his claim. “Historically, Tibet has never been part of China,” I countered. “If it was, why did your government need to force a 17-Point Agreement upon Tibet—a treaty you don’t have with any of colonized countries.”

He grew visibly uneasy and tried to evade the question, muttering that it takes a “long conversation.” I pressed my advantage, asking why China refuses to implement even the basic rights guaranteed in its own constitution. Then, I asked my final question: “Why do Chinese leaders avoid dialogue with His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama? He is revered globally as a messenger of peace, one of the most loved leaders yet your government labels him a ‘wolf in monk’s robe.”

To my astonishment, he diverged from the party line. He acknowledged His Holiness as a “good religious leader” before quickly deflecting, “but politics is complicated.” He then immediately pivoted, attempting to claim that there is religious freedom in Tibet. I have since had the privilege of sharing the details of this encounter, including the Chinese representative’s surprising acknowledgment of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, with some of the secretaries in His Holiness’s office.

This was an opening I could not let pass. I immediately listed the evidence of true religious repression: the ban on possessing a portrait of His Holiness in our own homes, the forced expulsion of monks under 18 from their monasteries, and the state-sanctioned demolition of sacred monasteries and stupas.

As we spoke, I could see the Chinese delegates watching us in stunned silence. A delegate from Latvia later told me how surprised he was to hear a Chinese official acknowledge His Holiness as a “good religious leader”—a rare break from their usual propaganda.

When our conversation ended, I made a conscious decision. I did not shake his hand. It was a small act, but it was a gesture of respect for the Tibetan martyrs who have lost their lives under the brutal hand of the Red Chinese regime.

The confrontation had clearly sent ripples through their delegation. For the remaining two days of the summit, I sought to engage with the Chinese youth delegates, but they actively avoided me. I don’t know if it was because I had challenged their leader, or for some other reason, but a wall of silence had gone up.

The final, telling moment came during the cultural presentation, when delegates were asked to represent their countries. I proudly raised the Tibetan flag high. In stark contrast, the Chinese delegates kept silence and never raised their flag. Perhaps, in a free and democratic country, they felt the shame of raising a flag that has become a symbol of occupation and oppression.

Although my journey to the summit was unofficial and self-funded, it also provided an unexpected opportunity to carry out some official duties of the Tibetan Youth Congress. I extended my stay in the United States until after the New Year to minimize travel costs, and during this time, I was sustained by the incredible generosity of relatives and friends. I am profoundly grateful for their support.

I have wanted to document this experience for a long time, and I regret not doing so sooner. However, I now feel a sense of duty to record this incident, not for myself, but so that it may find its place in the history of the Tibetan freedom movement. A direct, spontaneous challenge to a high-ranking Chinese official on the world stage is a rare event, and the details must not be lost.

Some of the prominent representatives I had the opportunity to meet during the Summit:

Assistant Secretary General for Youth Affairs, Dr.

Felipe Paullier, Consul General of Pakistan Mr. Aamer Ahmed Atozai, Consul General of Sweden Mr. Erik Ullenhag, H.E Ambassador Kelver Dwight Darroux of Dominica, Dr.Andrise Bass, Dr. Rahat Iqbal, H.E Ambassador Mr. Stan Oduma Smith, Permanent Mission of Bahamas to United Nations, Acting Permanent Representative of Pakistan to the United Nations, Ambassador Usman Jadoon, Deputy Permanent, Representative of China to the UN Ambassador Geng Shuang, Deputy Permanent Representative of Observer Mission of Palestine to the UN, Ambassador Ms. Feda M. Abdelhady

My Deepest Desire!

“As an activist, my deepest desire is not just to return to Tibet to reunite with my parents and siblings. More than anything, I want the younger generations, born in exile and strangers to their own country, to return before I do. I want them to witness the beauty of our homeland before it is irreparably damaged.
I want them to see the monumental mountains before they are scarred by mining, and the vast grasslands before they are erased by relentless development. I want them to see the pristine rivers and rivulets before they are choked and polluted by dams and industry. I want them to see the crystal-clear sky over the Tibetan plateau before it is covered by the dark clouds of Chinese industrialization. I want them to see their Tibetan brothers and sisters before their very identity is transformed.”

By Sonsnow

Photo captured during my participation in the Global Peace Summit in NY. Venue: UN Headquarters

Global Peace Summit: Selected

I am thrilled to share that I have been selected as a self-funded delegate for the Global Peace Summit scheduled to take place in New York in December 2024! I am now reaching out to my friends who have known me over the years and are willing to support my participation in this incredible opportunity. Any contributions towards making my attendance possible would be most welcome and deeply appreciated. As a passionate individual eager to represent my country and people, I am determined to seize every opportunity to make a positive impact on the world. I believe that youth-led platforms like this summit are crucial in shaping a better future for generations to come, and I am eager to contribute to this endeavor.

Kindly reach out to me at: tsesonsnow@gmail.com

The Story of My Escape -1

It was a day etched deeply into the memories of all of us who were part of that dangerous escape. Our group had lost one of our young colleagues during our escape journey, a girl whose presence and laughter had been a source of joy for everyone. Unlike the normal night escape, the escape had been planned meticulously, and we set out early in the morning, guided by the dim light of dawn.

We continued through the wild and vast dusty plain area, a challenging terrain we had to navigate. Despite the hardships, we remained determined, covering great distances throughout the day.

We spent the quarter half of the day sleeping, replenishing our energy for the continuation of our escape journey. In the later afternoon, we resumed our escape trek, hopeful of reaching our destination soon. By the time evening approached, exhaustion began to set in, and we found a secure place to rest for the night. Our hopes soared as we stumbled upon an old and abandoned army camp, which seemed like an ideal place to spend the night. The absence of any signs of human presence gave us a sense of security.

As we settled in, a shepherd and his flock of sheep appeared out of nowhere. The shepherd reassured our elders that the camp was safe, and this brought relief and joy to all of us. We hadn’t encountered another soul for quite some time, and the presence of the shepherd seemed like a friendly and welcoming gesture.

While the guide and the elders prepared dinner, we children took the opportunity to enjoy a sound sleep, seeking respite from our arduous escape journey. However, our tranquillity was short-lived. Suddenly, the elders woke us all up in a hurry, instructing us to pack our belongings and extinguish the fires they had lit for warmth and cooking. Confused and scared, we followed our elders’ lead and quickly run up the hills.

The reason for our sudden departure became evident as police vans with blaring sirens appeared in the valley below. It seemed that the shepherd and his flock had been a ruse, and we were betrayed. If the elders had been a little slower to become suspicious, we would have been caught that very evening.

All our groups managed to narrowly escape the clutches of the authorities and reached the top of the hill. However, our relief was overshadowed by the realization that one of our colleague girls was missing. Panic and worry engulfed us as we frantically searched the area. Our elders were divided into different groups and searched everywhere, but our efforts were gone in vain and we couldn’t find her. The atmosphere grew tense as discussions and arguments ensued among the group. We were faced with a difficult decision, but we eventually resolved to move forward for the safety of the rest.

The guilt and sadness of losing our colleague weighed heavily on our hearts as we continued our journey that night. Upon our arrival in India, we received a surprising revelation – the girl we had feared lost was safely back in her hometown.

The relief and joy we felt were immense, but we couldn’t help but wonder about the twists of fate that had brought us to this point. The escape had been filled with challenges, danger, and unexpected turns, yet we had managed to make it to safety, including the colleague we believed we had lost. It was a journey we would never forget, a tale of courage, sacrifice, and the power of hope in the face of adversity.

Indeed, the story presented here is a poignant representation of the challenges and dangers faced by Tibetan refugees who attempted to escape from Chinese authorities by crossing the treacherous and towering Himalayas. For many Tibetans, escaping to India became a life-or-death journey as they sought freedom and safety from the oppressive conditions under Chinese rule in Tibet. The Himalayas, with their high altitudes, extreme weather conditions, and rugged terrains, present formidable obstacles for anyone attempting such a perilous escape.

The journey involves navigating through harsh landscapes, enduring freezing temperatures, and avoiding detection by Chinese authorities who actively try to prevent Tibetans from escaping. Despite the dangers, many Tibetans, driven by a strong desire for freedom and an aspiration to fulfill their lifelong wish of seeing His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, have attempted this arduous escape.

Stories of courage, resilience, and hope permeate the experiences of these escapees. However, not all journeys have successful outcomes. Some Tibetans have been captured by Chinese authorities or have succumbed to the harsh conditions of the journey.

Our stories serve as a stark reminder of the immense risks involved and the urgency of our quest for freedom. This is one of the several challenging situations we have faced, and I will be sharing detailed and personal accounts of the various challenging situations we faced during the escape journey.

By Sonsnow

The Story Untold

Do enjoy listening the untold story from this conversation.

My Late grandfather

My grandfather is one of the few Tulkus we have in our region. He is a monk with few words, and duly does his daily rituals. He enjoys chanting prayers all day long with his musical ritual items. He was not only revered and respected by the people around his locality, but people from a distant district come to see him and regularly seeks his advice and blessings.
He was the one who taught me the Tibetan alphabet. Tibetan script was developed into its present form as early as the 7th century by Thonmi Sambhota, one of the ministers of 33rd King Songtsen Gambo. He was sent to India to learn, and he returned with a Tibetan script based on the Sanskrit script.
My grandfather constantly pushes me to practice my Tibetan calligraphy on a wooden plate. I must have gained a great knowledge in Buddhism and perfectly putting the Tibetan script in different styles if I were lucky enough to stay a little longer under his training and tutoship. But unfortunately, I wasn't lucky enough and had to leave him and others in the same year I left my country. When he is happy, he tells us the tales from the great epic Ling Geser Gyalpo, to which I am fond of listening, and sings the poems in a great rhythm. To my utter surprise and astonishment, he got a permanent bulb-like bump on his head, and he choose not to share how the bump was developed. Out of my curiosity, I often ask him about the same and touches it when he wears a smile on his face. But I wasn't a lucky kid who had the priviledge of understanding all the things they have gone through. Later on, I understood that he was beaten by the Chinese soldiers during the culutral revolution in Tibet that destroyed more than 97% of the monasteries and nunneries and disrobed 93% of the monks and nuns. If I knew about the same when I was with him in Tibet, I would have annoyed him with endless questions.Some of the people whose name still lingers in my mind were Tsering Losar, Sonam Rinchen and Phakpa, etc. Who suffered the same fate under the Chinese repressive policies.
Sadly, my grandfather passed away few years back, and I send him some prayers from the Land of Lord Buddha for a swift rebirth.

By Sonsnow

* "tulku" is an honorary title given to a recognised reincarnate Lama

Interview with Sonam Tsering

POEMS2GO INTERVIEW FEATURE: SONAM TSERING (SONSNOW)

(Interviewed by Sarah Kirstine Lain)

Author Biography: Sonam Tsering was born in Tibet and brought up in India where he studied under the great guidance of His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama. He escaped from Tibet in 2003, walking day and night for thirty days. He was too small to know what it meant that he would not see his parents again for so many years.

Sonam recently completed his MA in Public Policy from O.P. Jindal Global University and now serves as the General Secretary of the Tibetan Youth Congress, the largest Tibetan NGO. He considers himself an activist and tries to live up to his mantra: “I have more time for the cause of my country than for myself, and I will make the best use of my only life to carry out the legacies of my forefathers and to fight for the rightful cause of my country. This is the dream that I dream on every sleepless night.’’

For 30 days, you took a very difficult journey from the Kham province of Tibet to India where you now study. You write, “The saddest thing about being a refugee is that there is nothing around you that you own and even the heart and mind choose to run away every now and then towards the homeland.” Since you left for India, when have you found your heart running toward home?

RESPONSE: The only sickness common to all Tibetans in exile is homesickness, and I have been suffering the same for many years. I know it will continue to hurt and haunt me as long as I remain isolated from my country and my home. I knew that my heart chooses to run away now and then from the moment I arrived in India, as I couldn’t see any familiar faces anymore, and everything seemed new to me. I started missing the people and the place (my home) when I had a lot of challenges to overcome. It didn’t spare me even in my dreams, and I dreamt often about the homecoming. I am living in exile with this very hope of homecoming, and I will continue to struggle to make this happen for me and my countrymen who are longing for the same for so long.

When you arrived in India, you met His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, and were blessed by him. What did that blessing mean to you after such a difficult journey?

RESPONSE: That blessing means so much to me, as I have called his name in my prayers many times while escaping from Tibet by cutting through the forest and crossing the rivers running down with icebergs. Our elders were crying at the moment they saw him. Like any other innocent child, I was wondering and watching carefully if he was the same Lama in the black and white portrait that I had the opportunity to see. When I read and recognized his face, I felt much relief, and for the first time, I felt that I was in India.

In “This is how it ended,” you write, “They came and took away everything” and “They came and kicked me out.” How old were you when this happened, and what is your memory of the event? Where did you go when you were kicked out?

RESPONSE: When I say they came and took away everything, I am trying to generalize the issue of Chinese illegal occupation of Tibet. They have come in the name of liberating Tibetans from the feudal system and foreign imperial influence, though we hardly had any foreigners in Tibet at that period of time. In the name of development, they built road and railways, but the benefiters are always the migrants from the Mainland China. They dominate the market and marginalize the Tibetans. They make money by mining minerals out of our sacred mountains and leave Tibetans out of the sight.

When I write, “they came and kicked me out,” I am trying to portray the plight of how the Chinese illegal occupation has led me to leave my own motherland. They have actually kicked out all the Tibetans scattered all across the world. So, when my countrymen were kicked out of the country at the initial years of Chinese occupation, they had nowhere to go; they must now accept the companion of the soil, sky, and sun.

You are called Sonsnow: the son of snow land, and with this voice, you speak of “beautiful things buried behind the boundaries of those high standing Himalayas.” From your eyes, Sonsnow, what is buried in the Himalayas that the world needs to see?

RESPONSE: When I say “beautiful things,” literally it has a lot to do with the last place on earth forced to close its door to the rest of the world, no longer able to witness its natural beauties. The mysterious mountains, the rivers, and the rivulet, which are as clear as the crystals. There are other things, which the world needs to see, such as the suffering of the Tibetans under oppressive and aggressive policies of forced resettlement, restrictions of the movement, repressions of religious freedom. The world also needs to see the solitude of siblings and parents who are longing to see their lost sons and daughters. There are singers and writers whose words and lyrics are stuck behind the barrel of a gun. There are prisoners peeping for a little light of freedom from prison cells. There are those monks, nuns, and laypeople, risking their lives and calling Dalai Lama in their prayers.

You are currently studying public policy in India. How does your study of policy inform your poetry, and how does your poetry inform your study of policy? Please feel free to share about any policies you hope to change.

RESPONSE: I studied public policy for two years in O.P Jindal Global University. My poetry has nothing to do with the public policy, and I really don’t have any idea how these two are informing each other interchangeably in my poems. But one thing for sure is that both of them have something to do with the problems and the plight of people who are oppressed, ignored and isolated from the rest of the privileged few. So, my poems portray the pains and plight of Tibetans suffering under aggressive and oppressive Chinese policies inside Tibet. Therefore, I will continue to write as long as the Chinese government continues to oppress Tibetans. I will continue to write and resist as long as the repressive policies of the Chinese government remain in Tibet.

You write, “I couldn’t stop standing in solidarity and unity with my countrymen / I couldn’t stop speaking out the truth about tragedies behind the bars.” This is a persistence that many people in America also share. As I type this, children and parents in this country are being separated, held in camps. Many refugees here are called “illegal.” Protest for so many people has become a way of life. What keeps you writing and protesting, day after day, and what made you turn to poetry as a way of protest?

RESPONSE: I write poetries not because I am good at writing. I write because I have a story to tell, and unlike imprisoned Tibetan writers inside Tibet, I have the privilege to pen down the plight of Tibetans freely. I write because I have inspiring and encouraging figures back in Tibet, whose indomitable spirits and undying hope for a free Tibet— energize me. I feel that poetry has the power to pinch one’s heart to such an extent that the reader thinks twice and thrice before he or she interprets it.

Have you experienced any silencing as you have published your writing?

RESPONSE: No, I haven’t experienced any silencing so far, I would feel silencing only if I stopped writing for those who are silenced by the strict surveillance and strong censorship of the Chinese communist party.

Your first post on your website, Silent Songs of Sonsnow, are these words by Izaak Walton: “Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter.” Have you found that your writing has led you to “good company,” and if so, how has this influenced the direction and experience of your journey?

RESPONSE: The name “Silent Songs of Sonsnow” came to me back in my school days and I have a poetry notebook covered with the same handwritten name. The notebook is still with me. Yes, “Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter” are the words of Izaak Walton and I found the significance in having someone by my side, accompanying me all the time. Therefore, my writing has been good company of mine, which kills the silence of loneliness. This is why I keep on saying: “I have enough time to rest but I don’t have a minute to waste, come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.”

Sometimes, I feel that poetry is a playmate of mine, as I put words here and there to make it more enchanting and absorbing. When words are playful and beautiful, then people start questioning the meanings and messages. I always believed myself as an activist who calls and campaigns against the aggressiveness of the CCP. Therefore, my writings help me in doing the same for the same purpose: promoting this cause through a different medium, one that helps me to spread my message to readers from different parts of the world without political barriers and boundaries.

Untold stories:

My Story:

I have more time for the cause of my country than I do for myself. I have resolved to make the best use of this, my only life, to carry forward the legacy of my forefathers. To fight for the rightful cause of my country is the dream that occupies every one of my sleepless nights.

I was born and raised in a beautiful region of Kham, Tibet, where life is sustained by the soil and the seasons. While my parents were busy with the hard labor of winnowing, tilling, and threshing, I grew up under the tender care of my great-grandmother. As a naughty, snotty-nosed six-year-old, my world was small: my toys were the pebbles I found in the dust, and my companions were the yaks and goats I grazed across the vast grasslands.

As I grew strong enough to support my family, they taught me the art of tilling and showed me the greener reaches of the plateau where I would herd our livestock, my voice echoing across the hills. At that time, my imagination did not extend beyond the boundaries of our village. I knew only my animals and my home. It was a time when the tragedies of our history were buried behind fake smiles and sweet words, hidden away to protect the innocence of the children.

But behind the silence lay a “Great Depression” of socialist suppression. My father had endless stories of how his own father was tortured in a cell. My mother carried memories of how her mother was tormented by enemies who dragged her domestic animals to their deaths and beat her until her last breath. It was a dark and blind era, where violence took place in a terrifying silence. It was a time of red stars striking the snowy mountains, where the smell of blood-stained streets hit the senses. I was born just as the dust of that era began to settle, though the debris remained untouched.

Under the guise of providing “educational opportunity,” the Chinese government is coercing Tibetan families into enrolling their children in a vast network of state-run colonial boarding schools. Beneath this facade of care lies a calculated campaign of Sinicization—a systematic erasure of Tibetan identity through Mandarin-only education and political indoctrination. My parents recognized this attempt to sever my roots and transform me into a loyal tool of the state. Fearing for my future, they made the difficult decision to send me to India, ensuring I could grow up with my own culture and contribute to the survival of our cause.

One day, my parents asked me if I wanted to go to India. I had no idea where it was, only a vague notion that it was the place where our Holy Guru was educating children like me. Excited by the prospect of seeing what lay beyond our village, I accepted. Accompanied by my ten-year-old cousin, we were handed over to a stranger who promised to guide us.

The journey took thirty-five gruelling days. We bore every hardship imaginable to reach Nepal and, eventually, India. We hid under the blistering sun to avoid the galvanized guns of the Chinese patrols. We moved like owls under the cover of night, stepping out only when the enemy was out of sight. When we thought of the bars of the prisons behind us, we crept and crawled like victims of war. We escaped through the crests of high hills and through the biting winter chills. We crossed rivers at their coldest stage, finally leaving behind the boundaries of the “Great Wall.”

By the time we reached the border, our food was gone. We had to knock on doors and beg for bread just to sustain our final breaths. We exchanged our very clothing for scraps of food, eventually crossing countless mountains to reach the Tibetan Reception Centre in Nepal.

When we finally reached India, we received the blessings of our great guru, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. I was educated under the guidance of the Tibetan Children’s Village, which enlightened me, transforming an uneducated nomad boy into an educated human being.

Since then, I have lived the life of an exile. The saddest part of being a refugee is realizing that there is nothing around you that you truly own; even the heart in your chest chooses to run away every now and then, fleeing back toward the homeland. We live with such haste, our bags always packed, ready to move from one temporary place to the next. That is the challenge of having no place to call “home.”

I hold onto the hope that one day we will stand upon the land we have dreamt of for so long. I am hopeful that I will see my parents again, whom I have not met for 23 years. I am hopeful that we will resolve our cause and reunite with our countrymen before they pass away, one by one, into the night.

By Sonsnow