THE WISDOM
OF
FORGIVENESS
Namgyal and Dr. Dawa, specialists in Tibetan medicine who staffed a free clinic for pilgrims in Bodhgaya. They too would head out to Patna immediately.
T
M A U R Y A , sandwiched between a couple of seedy-looking apartment buildings, was the best hotel in Patna. Its small lobby was crowded with Indian journalists; this would be their command post as they waited for news about the Dalai Lama’s condition. A bodyguard took Dr. Tseten upstairs right away. I went to the restaurant for breakfast, then made my way up to the third floor. A phalanx of Tibetan security personnel hung around the corridor. Dr. Tseten and Tenzin Taklha were nowhere to be seen. The situation looked serious. I could see that the Dalai Lama’s bodyguards were concerned; there was none of their usual banter. And all three of the physicians charged with looking after the Dalai Lama had come here to check on his condition. In all the years I have known him, since my first audience in 1972, the Tibetan leader had never been sick except for the occasional flu or upset stomach. The only time he’d been seriously ill was when he contracted hepatitis B in 1967. He had been laid up for a month then, and the exile community had been traumatized. Late that morning, I went back to Bodhgaya without Dr. Tseten. I was nagged by an uneasy feeling as my driver negotiated his way out of the heavy traffic of Patna. HE
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