The Washington Post
Escape from the Land of Snows: The Young Dalai Lama's Harrowing Flight to Freedom and the Making of a Spiritual Heroby Stephan Talty
On the evening of March 17, 1959, as the people of Tibet braced for a violent power grab by Chinese occupiers—one that would forever wipe out any vestige of national sovereignty—the twenty-four-year-old Dalai Lama, Tibet’s political and spiritual leader, contemplated the impossible. The task before him was immense: to slip past a cordon of crack Chinese troops ringing his summer palace and, with an escort of 300, journey across the highest terrain in the world and over treacherous Himalayan passes to freedom—one step ahead of pursuing Chinese soldiers.
Mao Zedung, China’s ruthless Communist dictator, had pinned his hopes for total Tibetan submission on controlling the impressionable Dalai Lama. So beloved was the young ruler—so identified with his country’s essence—that for him to escape might mean perpetual resistance from a population unwilling to tolerate an increasingly brutal occupation. The Dalai Lama’s minders sent word to the Tibetan rebels and CIA-trained guerrillas who waited on the route: His Holiness must escape—at all costs.
In many ways, the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, was unprepared for the epic journey awaiting him. Twenty-two years earlier, government search parties, guided by prophecies and omens, had arrived at the boy’s humble peasant home and subjected the two-year-old to a series of tests. After being declared the reincarnation of Tibet’s previous ruler, the boy was brought to Lhasa to learn the secrets of Buddhism and the ways of ultimate power. Forced in the ensuing two decades to cope with aching loneliness and often stifling ritual—and compelled to suppress his mischievous personality—Gyatso eventually proved himself a capable leader. But no previous Dalai Lama had ever taken on a million Communist Chinese soldiers bent on stamping out Tibetan freedom.
To keep his country’s dream of independence alive by means of a government in exile, the young ruler would not only have to brave battalions of enemy soldiers and the whiteout conditions waiting on the slopes of the Himalayas’ highest peaks, he’d have to overcome a different type of blindness: the naïveté intrinsic to his sheltered palace life and his position as leader of a people who considered violence deeply taboo.
His mind made up, the young Dalai Lama set off on his audacious journey to India while behind him a Chinese army rolled over Lhasa, its advance hunter patrols in fierce pursuit of the man they most coveted. The 14th’s escape was an act of daring and defiance that represented Tibet’s last hope, and so the world watched, transfixed, as the gentle monk’s journey unfolded.
Emotionally powerful and irresistibly page-turning, Escape from the Land of Snows is simultaneously a portrait of the inhabitants of a spiritual nation forced to take up arms in defense of their ideals, and the saga of an initially childlike ruler who at first wore his monk’s robes uncomfortably but was ultimately transformed by his escape into the towering figure the world knows today—a charismatic champion of free thinking and universal compassion.
From the Hardcover edition.
The Washington Post
"Riveting, informed...A great read for Tibetophiles old and new."Kirkus Reviews
“It was perhaps history's most momentous escape: the Dalai Lama fleeing over the roof of the world from Mao's advancing troops. I loved losing myself in ESCAPE FROM THE LAND OF SNOWS and you will too.”James Bradley, New York Times bestseller author of FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS, FLYBOYS, and THE IMPERIAL CRUISE
“An amazing, behind-the-scenes account that reads like a bound-for-the-big-screen thriller. Talty vividly captures the Tibet I know and have immense respect for including its harsh beauty, epic terrain and fiercely resilient people. Reading this, I was completely absorbed as a series of divine prophecies cause a small peasant boy – the future 14th Dalai Lama to be chosen to lead his people, and as threats from marauding Chinese occupiers send that same boy, now a young man, on a dangerous gauntlet through the Himalayas. Talty shows in the most compulsively readable way how a champion for peace came by his warrior instincts.”Ed Viesturs, 7-Time climber of Mt. Everest and author of NO SHORTCUTS TO THE TOP: CLIMBING THE WORLD’S HIGHEST PEAKS
“ESCAPE FROM THE LAND OF SNOWS reads like a great adventure yarn, yet along the way Talty helps us see the Dalai Lama not as statesman or symbol, but as a courageous and terrified young man forced to undergo one of history’s most remarkable and unlikely transformations. We watch as a cloistered, teenage monk is thrust onto the world stage, finds himself in the path of Mao's juggernaut, and then rises beyond all expectations to the monumental task before him. This wonderfully rich narrative should be required reading for anyone who cares about Tibet, the Dalai Lama, or the power of spiritual integrity.”by Greg Mortensen, author of the #1 New York Times bestseller THREE CUPS OF TEA and the New York Times bestseller STONES INTO SCHOOLS
“Loaded with hard, vivid detail and marked by a wonderful cast of characters…Few people know the facts of the Dalai Lama's escape from Chinese-occupied Tibet. That will change with this marvelous book. Acclaimed author Stephan Talty takes us with the Dalai Lama on a dangerous journey over the Himalayas while being pursued by Mao’s soldiers. Meanwhile, U.S. President Eisenhower and millions around the world eagerly follow his daring escape. You will, too, as you turn these pages.”Jean Sasson, New York Times bestselling author of PRINCESS and GROWING UP BIN LADEN
“Riveting…Talty’s portrait of the young Dalai Lama is nuanced and compelling; his account of the CIA’s involvement is thriller ready; and his unique coverage of the news frenzy and shenanigans that ensued as the fleeing Dalai Lama became a cold-war hero is fascinating…Talty is also acutely attuned to the tragedy and grace of the Dalai Lama’s long exile.” Booklist (Starred Review)
A riveting, informed narrative about the current Dalai Lama's 14-day escape from Chinese-occupied Tibet in 1959.
Journalist Talty (The Illustrious Dead: The Terrifying Story of How Typhus Killed Napoleon's Greatest Army, 2009, etc.) uses this remarkable historical event to tell the greater story of Tibet's transformation from a veiled kingdom to a world cause, and the Dalai Lama's coming of age from a teenage king and living god to an international spiritual leader. The author effectively gives the reader an introductory lesson in Tibetan history and a sense of the Tibetan people while maintaining the pace of an adventure tale. The Dalai Lama is always at the center of the story, even in passages told from other points of view, including Tibetan Khampa soldiers and CIA agents. After being discovered as the next Dalai Lama at age two, then struggling with the loneliness and formality of palace life, he ascended the throne early, at 15, upon Mao's invasion. The Tibetan people endured Chinese occupation and escalating brutality for nine more years before a true rebellion emerged in response to a rumor that the Dalai Lama's life was threatened. As his peace-loving people tried to hold off the ensuing Chinese attacks on the palace, the Dalai Lama was forced to flee with plans to establish a provisional government outside the capital. But after days of sandstorms, blinding sun, avalanche blizzards, dysentery and threats of leopard attacks in the 19,000-foot passes of the Himalayas, the Dalai Lama and his group learned that the Chinese were on their trail. The chase was followed by President Eisenhower, protesters worldwide and a colorful cadre of journalists who introduced Tibet to the world, "becoming famous just as it ceased to exist." The Dalai Lama was granted asylum in India, where the he still resides, mournful for Tibet but now able to spread his culture's peace and compassion in ways previously unimaginable.
A great read for Tibetophiles old and new.
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Read an Excerpt
Early one morning in March 1959, His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama walked slowly along a gravel path that led away from his small home at the Norbulingka, his beloved summer palace. The air just after first light still carried a snap of cold that reached from the Himalayas, and the sun was only now beginning to warm the breeze. This was his favorite time to walk the grounds, after rising for prayers and breakfast at 5:00 a.m., when everything was still. Against a sky beginning to lighten, the leaves of the palace trees— poplar and willow, mostly— fairly pulsed green. It was the Dalai Lama’s lucky color.
He was deep in thought, and then deep in the effort to avoid thinking. When he lifted his head he could spot thrushes and willow warblers and even an English kingfisher as they swung through the branches and then out over the two thick walls that surrounded the palace’s 160 acres. The Norbulingka, three miles outside the capital city, Lhasa, was the place the Dalai Lama felt most at home.
As the Dalai Lama walked, he could hear the calls of his pet monkey, which was tethered to a stick in another part of the Jewel Park. If he was lucky, he would spot the musk deer that roamed the grounds, along with cranes, a Mongolian camel, and high- stepping peacocks. He could also hear the occasional burst of gunfire that echoed outside the walls. Out there, thousands of his fellow Tibetans were camped, guarding against what they thought were conspiracies to kill or abduct him. There were, the Dalai Lama was convinced, no conspiracies, but that didn’t change the power or the direction of the uprising that was gathering in the streets of Lhasa. The crowds would not let him leave, and their very presence was inciting the Chinese, who had occupied the country, or retaken it from a corrupt, intriguing elite, if you asked them, nine years earlier.
The past few days, since the uprising had begun, had run together in a “dizzying, frightening blur.” The Norbulingka couldn’t have appeared more serene as it took on its new greenery, but it seemed that the future of Tibet was spinning out of control just outside its walls. The Dalai Lama felt that he was caught “between two volcanoes.” But there were actually more than two sides; the Tibetans themselves were divided. As was his own mind, particularly on the question of what to do now: stay in Lhasa, or flee to a safe haven in the south, or even on to India itself?
As the thin monk, just twenty- three years old, usually luminous with energy, paced slowly along the path, he was successfully avoiding returning to his small whitewashed palace, especially the Audience Hall, where he held his meetings. (It was even furnished with chairs and tables instead of Tibetan cushions, as an optimistic nod to the foreign diplomats he’d hoped to welcome, but the Chinese allowed few visitors.) Bad news was all that arrived there these days. The Chinese official Tan Guansan, one of the leading officials on the influential Tibet Work Commission, had made a point of coming to see him over the past few months, and the confrontations had become increasingly ugly. And for months the Dalai Lama had been receiving messengers arriving from Lhasa and beyond with stories of Chinese atrocities against his people— beheadings, disembowelments, accounts of monasteries burned with monks inside them— that were so outlandishly brutal that he had to admit he himself didn’t believe them all. “They were almost beyond the capacity of my imagination,” the Dalai Lama remembered. It simply wasn’t possible for human beings to treat one another that way. Now new reports were coming in daily through the gates of the Norbulingka, watched not only by his bodyguards and Tibetan army troops but also by representatives of “the people’s committee,” a bewildering concept in Tibet, which had been ruled for centuries by aristocrats and abbots, under the authority of the Dalai Lama himself. These bulletins told him that the Chinese were bringing artillery and reinforcements into Lhasa and installing snipers on the rooftops of his restive city. He could sometimes feel the rumble of tanks’ diesel engines as the vehicles negotiated the narrow streets.
What he was trying to avoid thinking of as he walked was the dream he’d had last year. He’d seen massacres in his mind, Tibetan men, women, and children being shot and killed by Chinese troops and his lovely Norbulingka turned into a “killing ground.” This he kept to himself. (But some of his subjects would later report they had had the same dream at the very same time.) He knew that such scenes, if they were allowed to unfold in Lhasa, would be the prelude to something much larger. “I feared a massive, violent reprisal which could end up destroying the whole nation,” the
Dalai Lama said.
Lhasa (whose name means “place of the gods”) had first appeared to him as a city of wonders. Almost twenty years before, he’d entered the capital on a golden palanquin constructed of a curtained box set on poles carried by teams of young men, with massive crowds cheering his approach and bowing to him with the ceremonial katas, or white scarves, in their hands. “There was an unforgettable scent of wildflowers,” recalled the Dalai Lama. “I could hear [the people] crying, ‘The day of our happiness has come.’ ” But it hadn’t. In fact, during his reign, disaster had followed disaster. Men in the east of the country were now being “driven into barbarism,” forced to fight the Chinese and dying in the battles, ensuring themselves a rebirth as lower animals and demons. And Lhasa too was growing unstable.
The sun was climbing over the small mountains to the east. Soon he would have to return to the palace.
Perhaps what was most shocking about what had happened in the past few days was that the idea of escape wasn’t entirely repugnant to him. It would be devastating to his people, for whom he was Kundun, the Presence, the spirit of Tibet itself. It would be equally devastating for the nation, for the idea of an independent Tibet, and it cut at his heart to contemplate what it would mean for the future. But it wouldn’t necessarily be devastating to him. The notion of escape had always appealed to the Dalai Lama, ever since he was a boy in the Amdo hills, before the search party seeking the next incarnation of Chenrizi— the deity that manifested itself in each successive Dalai Lama— had knocked on his parents’ door. When he was only two, he would pack a small bag, tie it to a stick, and tell his mother he was leaving for Lhasa. He had always been an unusual boy, but those moments astonished her. And twenty years later, the idea of leaving still intrigued him. He knew that freedom of the kind he had tasted only briefly in his life was impossible in Tibet. Even without the occupation, Lhasa for a young Dalai Lama was often a dark and suffocating passageway.
He didn’t wish to leave, nor was it even clear that he could if he wanted to. Some 40,000 Chinese troops were stationed in and around Lhasa, and he’d have to be spirited past their patrols. And if he did flee, Tibet, in a way, vanished from Tibet. He was central to every Tibetan’s sense of his or her own life in a way that no other leader, not even Mao in China— Mao, who was finally revealing himself in these horrible days— could equal. He was the storehouse of the Buddhist Dharma, a subject that had once bored him profoundly but that now quickened his every thought. Was it possible that that too could disappear from his country, from the earth itself?
The Dalai Lama took the path that turned and wound back toward his home on the Norbulingka grounds. He could hear the crowds stirring outside. The chants would begin soon. He didn’t hurry.
From the Hardcover edition.
Meet the Author
STEPHAN TALTY is a widely published journalist who has contributed to the New York Times Magazine, GQ, Men’s Journal, Time Out New York, Details, and many other publications. He is the author of the bestselling Empire of Blue Water, The Illustrious Dead, and Mulatto America.
From the Hardcover edition.
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