Thirty-nine years in exile.
Yet no nation supports us.
Not a single bloody nation!
We are refugees here.
People of a lost country.
Citizen to no nation.
Tibetans: the world’s sympathy stock.
Serene monks and bubbly traditionalists;
one lakh and several thousand odd,
nicely mixed, steeped
in various assimilating cultural hegemonies.
At every check-post and office,
I am an “Indian-Tibetan”.
My Registration Certificate,
I renew every year, with a salaam.
A foreigner born in India.
I am more of an Indian.
Except for my Chinky Tibetan face.
“Nepali?” “Thai?” “Japanese?”
“Chinese?” “Naga?” “Manipuri?”
but never the question — “Tibetan?”
I am Tibetan.
But I am not from Tibet.
Never been there.
Yet I dream
of dying there.
8 thoughts on “My Tibetanness”
I like this poem it is very nice and peaceful.when I read this poem I taught of helping Refugees in my country,I really like this poem
I need analysis of this poem sir…
Your poem is an inspiration tsundue la. I hope you write more poems on our issue and display it on the global stage. I am big fan of yours and support your dream.
Touching.Identity crisis is portrayed well.Like the last lines
That’s really touching … Born from ones heart…..out of the pain of existence…