The Book of Joy

cloak around his shoulders, and took the Archbishop’s arm. “Thank you
very much,” he said, referring to the service. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” the Archbishop replied.
They exited back down the dark hallway lined with thangkas. The
bright light was streaming in through the windows at the end of the
hallway now. They stepped outside and down the concrete stairs, the
Archbishop moving slowly, bracing himself with the handrail.
A car was waiting, but the Archbishop and the Dalai Lama decided to
walk up the path together to the conference room where the interviews
were being filmed.
The Dalai Lama took the Archbishop’s hand, the one that held the
cane. They walked together rather nimbly.
“Have you had any problems with security here?” the Archbishop
asked.
“No, no,” the Dalai Lama said.
“I’m quite surprised,” the Archbishop responded.
“No,” the Dalai Lama said again, confirming his safety. “I usually
describe myself as the longest guest of the Indian government, now fifty-
six years.”
“Fifty-six? But, I mean, there have not been any intruders? People
who have wanted to come in here and attack you?” He was no doubt
thinking of his own death threats and the actual plan to assassinate him. It
was foiled by the embrace of a crowd of people that had surrounded him
at the airport and prevented the would-be assassin from getting close
enough.
“No, no. Twenty-four hours a day. India provides protection.”
“Quite amazing, but even so, they can be quite clever. They can
infiltrate the security establishment, and you think that it is someone who
is coming to protect you, and it turns out . . .”
“Even in the White House,” the Dalai Lama said, “someone entered
without much notice.”
“It is wonderful that you have been able to be secure here.”
“The only danger,” the Dalai Lama said, “is an earthquake.”