The Book of Joy

if ever.
As our motorcade approached, we heard the children’s soaring voices,
their welcome song high-pitched and plaintive, yet indomitable and
joyful. It was a song they had composed for the Dalai Lama’s eightieth
birthday. The choir and school staff lined the road. All around them sat
waves of students in their school uniforms, the girls in white blouses with
green V-neck sweaters and green skirts. The boys wore blue pants and the
traditional gray robes over their Tibetan shirts, like the one that had been
made for the Archbishop.
The Dalai Lama and the Archbishop’s beige SUV drove through the
gathered crowd, under the massive circular white tent that had been
raised to protect the Dalai Lama and the Archbishop and the children
from the midday sun. The car finally arrived at the library, as the children
were still singing at the top of their lungs. Once the Archbishop and the
Dalai Lama were helped out of the car, long khatas, the ceremonial white
scarves, were put around the Archbishop’s neck. They were then ushered
over to a ceremonial red box filled on one side with barley flour mixed
with sugar and butter and on the other side with barley grain. Barley,
which is able to grow at high altitudes, is the most important crop in
Tibet. The flour, or tsampa, that is milled from roasted barley is a staple
of the Tibetan diet. Colorful barley stalks stuck out of the box. A young
woman and young man, elaborately dressed in traditional Tibetan
clothing stood next to the box, each of them with their long black hair
braided into crowns on their head and large yellow necklaces hanging
down to their chest. The young woman held a metal bowl filled with
milk, more likely cow or goat than the traditional yak.
The Dalai Lama showed the Archbishop how to toss the barley flour
into the air and then dip his ring finger into the milk as part of the
ceremonial offering. Long yellow, green, and red sticks of incense burned
nearby. The crowd of reporters, photographers, security, monks, and
officials, including the bearer of the yellow umbrella, thronged around.
We were then led into the library, where the librarians placed more
scarves on the Archbishop, and the Archbishop began to shrink under the
layers of white fabric. I had been told that one of the librarians had spent