Challenge 6: Wishful Conversation

33. If you could hold a conversation with someone (living or deceased) you consider significant, whom would you talk to and what would you talk about? Describe your conversation. (University of Oregon)

I enter the house. It is late evening, and I struggle to pull my half-empty suitcase as I walk past the luxurious living room, filled with the scent of rich wine, the sounds of laughter and the clinking of mahjong tiles. The three visits I had made to Beijing so far, to visit my maternal grandmother’s parents and the rest of her family, were very significant in my memory, and this visit was going to be the best so far. I made it past the living room without being noticed, but just as I got to the long corridor, I was welcomed by my grand-aunt, Mo-Tsewang-la who insisted on helping me with my luggage, and escorted me to my room. I had no time to wash up and unpack as I recalled the last words of my father as I checked- in, in the Kathmandu airport, “Don’t forget to respect your great-grandparents by offering the jedas.” In haste I took the white, auspicious, ceremonial scarves out of my backpack and rushed down to find Mo-Tsewang-la waiting for me at the end of the staircase. With a comforting smile, we walked into the living room filled with relatives from all the four generations.

The sound of the games stopped as I walked in, but the greetings sounded faint to me.  I was nervous. I took a deep breath and walked up to my great-grandfather, Ngabo Ngawang Jigme – whom I referred to as Ngabo Pola – put the scarf around him, and did the same to my great-grandmother. The moment the second scarf left my hand I felt the atmosphere lighten. I sat with the elders for a little while, talking about family back at home, and then watched a game of mahjong, a game that I just cannot seem to understand. It was getting late by now, and Ngabo Pola got up to retreat for the night. Everyone got up to show their respect as he exited, and I had the honor of escorting him to his room.

Walking beside Ngabo Pola, and helping him to his room made me feel lucky. I had to make the most the times I would get to spend with him, as he was getting old and I would not visit Beijing for a while. As we entered his room, he told me he wanted to sit down and talk for a bit, before retiring for the night. I poured Ngabo Pola a glass of tea, and sat down beside him. He talked to me about his fascinating childhood, being raised in nobility. He went on to talking about the importance of the Tibetan culture and how the younger generations should learn to preserve it. He took a deep breath and sipped his tea; a moment of silence followed. This was my opportunity to ask him the questions I had long awaited to ask, why had he signed the 17^th Point Agreement? I had read many articles and comments that called my great-grandfather an “opportunist” or a “traitor,” but I did not believe that. To clear any such doubts that may have existed, I patiently waited for an answer. He smiled, probably knowing that question would arise, and explained the whole situation to me with great honesty and integrity. All those comments now meant nothing to me. As we got into the topic of Tibetan politics, the last question I had for him for the night was what he thought of the present Tibet situation, and all the rally’s and recent immolations. He smiled again, and I could see he was tired, so was I. “I don’t think I would be able to answer that question within an hour,” he said. “I will definitely do so tomorrow.”

Without any hesitation I agreed, and helped him up to his bed. I wished him goodnight, and tip-toed out of the room.

Tttrrrringgg. The rays of light find its way to my face and the ringing alarm brings me back to reality. I think over my dream and wish I that it would have been true.