Here's a glimpse of life in Dharamsala, India from Kim Westberry:
Somewhere in the lower reaches of Dharamsala, we are almost there as I gaze across a sea of tents with Ravi, my friendly, taxi-driving neighbor. He finishes explaining Dalit history by describing the inevitable problems that occur after a hard rain. In sum, gravity washes a torrent of wet rage through the untouchable, ephemeral city, purifying all in its path.
Window down- dusty and eyes still wide with wonder, we arrive at the temple to see H.H. the 17th. Karmapa for his birthday celebration. Unfortunately there is little activity save me, the random dogs and the resident monks. I wonder what the temple must have felt like only a few hours earlier. The crowd, too-many-for-the-space, shoulder to shoulder, enthralled in a blissful trance. I fantasize at the temple cafe as I sit between an open window and the only fan to blow a cool breeze in all of India.
