Golden Buddha

A roar erupted, and the faithful prostrated themselves onto the hard soil, then began to chant as one.

The Dalai Lama began passing through the crowd and witnessed the tears of joy on the cheeks of the faithful. The sight filled him with happiness, duty and honor, and it caused him to smile.

Following the throne chair were members of the Dalai Lama’s i

The Mak-chi and the soldiers were dressed in their ceremonial uniforms consisting of blue trousers and yellow tunics covered in gold braid. They marched in slow and perfect cadence, with their boots making a timed thumping sound as they struck the soil. Next were the Dalai Lama’s religious tutors and teachers, as well as family and friends.

At the rear of the procession came a wagon with a tiger in a cage, followed by a single horseman holding a thirty-foot-tall staff flying the formerly outlawed Tibetan flag. The parade was both magisterial and magnificent. It was based on two thousand years of tradition and strengthened by fifty-five years of exile.

The procession continued toward Potala.

AT the base of the eighty-foot-tall foundation wall of Potala, four hundred laborers had worked eight hours the night before to build a series of stone steps leading from the edge of the meadow to the top of the wall. As soon as the first of the procession reached the lowest step, they parted to each side, like the flow of water in a stream being split by a boulder, then took their positions alongside the temporary stairway.

Once the Golden Buddha reached the base of the steps, the ten monks walked over, formed a ladder with their arms, then carried the Buddha up the steps and placed it on the top of the wall. Then they descended the stairway as the throne chair containing the Dalai Lama slowed and stopped at the base. On a signal from the Dalai Lama, the monks carrying the throne chair bowed down on their knees, then swiveled to the side. Holding the throne chair only inches above the ground, they waited until the Dalai Lama climbed off the chair onto the thick woven carpet that lay upon the ground. Breathing a sigh of relief as the weight was removed from the chair, the monks waited until the Dalai Lama started up the stairs, then they set the throne chair upon the ground and rose to their feet.

With a soul seeped in tradition and divinely inspired, the Dalai Lama ascended the stairway.

Reaching the top, he slowly turned and stared out at the crowd. The mass of humanity stretched across the meadow and onto the surrounding hillsides. He bowed his head, then closed his eyes for a moment. Then he spoke.

“I have missed you,” he said simply.

The crowd, so subdued only seconds before, once again erupted into cheers.

Twenty minutes would pass before it quieted down enough for the Dalai Lama to speak again.