Heinrich Harrer was a German tutor of the thirteenth Dalai Lama of Tibet. When Dalai Lama died, a regent took his place to take care of the government, till the new incarnation of the dead Dalai Lama took birth as a child and that child is searched and brought to Lhasa, and installed there with due ceremonies as the next Dalai Lama. Heinrich Harrer witnessed that search of the child and the installation of the next – the present – Dalai Lama (who is now living in exile in India at Dharamshala) and the invasion of Tibet by China. Heinrich Harrer wrote a book “Seven years in Tibet” chronicling all these events.
It is a historical record of the invasion of Tibet by China. It also shows the utter foolishness and timidity of the then Indian government in not raising a voice of protest against China, let alone helping the Tibetan people against China. It was a betrayal by India of Tibet, where Mansarovar Lake – the abode of Lord Shiva – is located. Tibet was occupied by China in 1950 – and the resistance by Tibetans started, which is still continuing in 2023.
We are reproducing parts of this book here for awareness of Indian people of the sad history of Tibet and the blunder of their government. It reads thus:
Our peaceful lessons were disturbed this summer by an untoward event. On August 15th a violent earthquake caused a panic in the Holy City. Another evil omen ! The people had hardly got over their fright caused by the comet, which in the previous year had been visible by day and night like a gleaming horsetail in the heavens. Old people remembered that the last comet had been the precursor of a war with China.
The earthquake came as a complete surprise, without pre-monitory tremors, The houses of Lhasa began suddenly to shake and one heard in the distance some forty dull detonations, caused no doubt by a crack in the crust of the earth. In the cloudless sky a huge glow was visible to the east. The after-shocks lasted for days. The Indian radio reported great land-slides in the province of Assam, which borders Tibet. Mountains and valleys were displaced and the Brahmaputra, which had been blocked by a fallen mountain, had caused immense devastation. It was not till a few weeks later that news came to Lhasa of the extent of the catastrophe in Tibet itself. The epicentre of the earthquake must have been in South Tibet. Hundreds of monks and nuns were buried in their rock-monasteries and often there were no survivors to carry the news to the nearest District Officer. Towers were split down the middle, leaving ruined walls pointing to the sky, and human beings, as if snatched by a demon’s hand, disappeared into the suddenly gaping earth.
The evil omens multiplied. Monsters were born. One morning the capital of the stone column at the foot of the Potala was found lying on the ground in fragments. In vain did the Government send monks to Lhe centres of ill-omen to banish the evilspirits with their prayers, and when one day in blazing summer weather water began to flow from a gargoyle on the cathedral, the people of Lhasa were beside themselves with terror. No doubt natural explanations could have been found for all these happenings, but if the Tibetans lost their superstitiousness they would at the same time lose an asset. One has to remember that if evil portents can demoralise them with fear, good omens inspire them with strength and confidence.
The Dalai Lama was kept informed of all these sinister events. Though naturally as superstitious as his people, he was always curious to hear my views on these things. We never lacked matter for conversation and our lesson time was all too short. He actually spent his leisure hours with me, and few people realised that he was using his free time for further study. He kept punctually to his programme, and if he awaited my coming with pleasure, that did not prevent him from breaking off as soon as the dock told him that our conversation time was over, and that a teacher of religion was waiting for him in one of the pavillions.
The National Assembly had soberer views. It had at last become clear to them that isolationism spelt a grave danger for the country. It was high time to establish diplomatic relations with foreign states and to tell the whole world that Tibet wished to be independent.
Hitherto China’s claim that Tibet was one of her provinces had remained without contradiction. Newspapers and broadcasters could say what they liked about the country: there was never an answer from Tibet. In conformity with their policy of complete neutrality the Government had refused to explain themselves to the world. Now the danger of this attitude was recognised and people began to grasp the importance of propaganda.
Every day Radio Lhasa broadcasted its views in Tibetan, Chinese and English. Missions were appointed by the Government to visit Peking, Delhi, Washington and London. Their members were monastic officials and young noblemen who had learnt English in India. But they never got farther than India, thanks to the irresolution of their own Government and the obstruction by the great powers. The young Dalai Lama realised the gravity of the situation but he did not cease to hope for a peaceful outcome. During my visits I observed what a lively interest the future ruler took in political events. We always met alone in the little cinema theatre, and I was able to understand often from trifling indications how much he looked forward to my coming. Sometimes he came running across the garden to greet me, beaming with happiness and holding out his hand. In spite of my warm feelings towards him and the fact that he called me his friend, I always took care to show him the respect due to the future king of Tibet. He had charged me to give him lessons in English, geography and arithmetic. In addition I had to look after his cinema and keep him conversant with world events. He had my pay raised on his own initiative, for though he was not yet constitutionally
entitled to give orders, be had only to express a wish for it to be executed.
In the late summer of 1939 the four delegates, together with their servants, the merchants, the Holy Child and his family, started for Lhasa. They travelled for months before reaching the Tibetan frontier. There a Cabinet Minister was waiting for them with his staff. He gave the boy a letter from the Regent containing official confirmation of his recognition. Then for the first time homage was paid to him as Dalai Lama. Even his parents, who had certainly guessed that their son must be a high Incarnation, only now learned that he was no less than the future ruler of Tibet.
From this day the little Dalai Lama distributed blessings as naturally as if be had never done anything else. He has still a clear recollection of being borne into Lhasa in his golden palanquin. He had never seen so many people. The whole town was there to greet the new Embodiment of Chenrezi who at last after so many years returned to the Potala and his orphaned people. Six years bad passed since the death of the “Previous Body ” and of these nearly two had elapsed before the god
reentered a human body. In February 1940 the enthronement of the Dalai Lama was celebrated during the Great New Year Festival, when he received new names such as ” The Holy One,” “The Tender, Glorious One,” “The Mighty of Speech,” ” The Excellent Understanding,” “The Absolute Wisdom,” “The Defender of the Faith,” “The Ocean.”
Everyone was astonished at the unbelievable dignityof the child and the gravity with which be followed ceremonies which lasted for hours. With his predecessor’s servants, who had charge of him, he was as trusting and affectionate as if he had always known them.
I was very glad to have heard this account more or less at first hand. During the lapse of time many legends had collected around these extraordinary events and I had already heard several garbled versions.
With the approach of autumn the hours of our companionship were more and more frequently interrupted. Even our quiet comer of the jewelled Garden felt the breath of the coming storm. As the crisis intensified, the initiation of the young king into the business of government proceeded apace. The National Assembly transferred itself to the Norbulingka so oas to be able to communicate important events to His Holiness without delay. The young king in spite of his inexperience surprised the whole official world by his far-sightedness and his cleverness in opposing unsuitable policies. There was no doubt that the destinies of the State would soon be entrusted to him. The situation grew ever more serious. News came from East Tibet that Chinese cavalry and infantry were concentrating on our frontier. Troops were sent to the east, though it was clearly recognised that they were too weak to hold up the enemy. The Government’s attempts to arrive at a settlement by diplomatic means were in vain. The delegations which had been sent out for propaganda purposes had got stuck in India. Tibet could count on no aid from outside. The example of Korea showed clearly enough that even the support of the United Nations was of uncertain avail against the Red armies. The people became resigned to the prospect of defeat.
On October 7, 1950, the enemy attacked the Tibetan frontier in six places simultaneously. The first engagement took place, but Lhasa received no news of the fighting for ten days. While the first Tibetans were dying for their country, festivals were being held in Lhasa and the people waited for a miracle. After the news of the first defeats the Government sent for all the most famous oracles in Tibet. There were dramatic scenes in the Norbulingka. The grey-headed abbots and veteran Ministers entreated the oracles to stand by them in their hour of need. In the presence of the Dalai Lama the old men threw themselves at the feet of the prophetic monks, begging them for once to give them wise counsel. At the climax of his trance the State Grade reared up and then fell down before the Dalai Lama, ‘crying Make him king.’ The other oracles said much the same thing, and as it was felt that the voice of the gods ought to be listened to, preparations for the Dalai Lama’s accession to the throne were at once put in hand.
In the meantime the Chinese troops had penetrated hundreds of miles into Tibet. A few Tibetan commanders had already surrendered and others had ceased to resist, seeing no future in fight against overwhelming force. The Governor of the principal town in East Tibet had sent a wireless message to Lhasa asking for permission to surrender as resistance was useless. The National Assembly refused his request, so, after blowing up his guns and ammunition dumps, he fled in the direction of Lhasa with the English radio operator Ford, Two days later he found his way barred by Chinese troops and both men were captured.
I have already referred to the fate of Robert Ford. The National Assembly now sent an urgent appeal to UNO for help against the aggressors, claiming that their country had been invaded in peacetime on the pretext that the Red People’s Army could not tolerate the influence of imperialistic powers in Tibet. The whole world knew, they pointed out, that Tibet was utterly free from any foreign influence. Here there were no imperialistic influences and nothing to liberate. If any nation deserved the help of UNO, it was Tibet. Their appeal was rejected, and UNO expressed the hope that China and Tibet would come to a peaceful agreement.
It was now clear to the meanest intelligence that as no outside help was forthcoming, Tibet must surrender. Everyone began to pack up. Aufschnaiter and I knew that our hour was come and that we had lost our second home. The thought of departure was bitter, but we knew that we must go. Tibet had treated us with hospitality and had given us tasks to perform into which we had put our whole hearts. The time during which I had been privileged to give lessons to the Dalai Lama had been the best of my life. We had never had anything to do with the military activities of Tibet, as many European newspapers asserted.
The Dalai Lama began to be anxious about our personal prospects. I had a long conversation with him, as a result of which it was agreed that I should now take my leave as I had long planned to do. This would give me greater freedom of movement and allow me to slip away without comment. In a few days the Dalai Lama was to move to the Potala, where for the time being he would have no time for my lessons. My plan was to travel first to South Tibet and visit the town of Shigatse, after which I should go on to India.
The ceremony at which the Dalai Lama was to be declared of age was imminent. The Government would have liked to hurry it on, but the propitious date had to be determined by the omens. At the same time it was of pressing importance to decide what was to be done with the young ruler. Was he to remain in Lhasa or to flee? It was usual, when difficult questions had to be decided, to be guided by the conduct of previous Incarnations. It therefore seemed relevant to remember that, forty years ago, the thirteenth Dalai Lama had fled before the invading Chinese and that things had gone well for him thereafter. But the Government could not undertake single-handed to make such a critical decision. The gods must have the last word. So in the presence of the Dalai Lama and the Regent two balls of kneaded tsampa were made, and after being tested on a pair of gold scales to ensure that they were of exaedy the same weight, they were put in a golden basin. Each of these balls had rolled up inside it a slip of paper: on one of these was written the word “yes,” and on the other “ no ”. Meanwhile the State Oracle had hypnotised himself and was performing his dance. The basin was placed in his hands and he rotated it with ever-increasing speed until one of the balls jumped out and fell on the ground. When it was opened, jt was found to contain the “yes” paper, and so it was decided that the Dalai Lama should leave Lhasa.
I had postponed my journey for a while, for I wished first to know the Dalai Lamas plans. I hated leaving him in these unhealthy times, but he insisted on my departure and consoled me by saying that we should meet again in the south. The preparations for his own Sight were being hurried on, but great secrecy was maintained to avoid alarming the people. The Chinese were still some hundreds of miles to the east of Lhasa and for the moment were not moving, but it was feared that an unexpected advance might cut off the Dalai Lama’s chance of escape to the south.
The news that the ruler was getting ready to leave was bound to leak out. The fact could not be concealed that his private treasures were being got away. Every day caravans of heavily laden mules were seen leaving the town in the charge of men of the bodyguard. Consequently the nobles hesitated no longer and began to move their families and treasures into safer places.
Outwardly life in Lhasa followed its normal course. It was only by the shortage of means of transport that one noticed that many people were keeping back their pack-animals for their own purposes. Market prices rose a little. Reports came in of the gallant deeds of individual Tibetan soldiers but it was generally known that the army was routed. The few units which still held their ground were soon obliged to yield to the enemy’s superior tactics.
In 1910 the invading Chinese had plundered and burnt when they came to Lhasa, and the inhabitants were paralysed by the fear that these outrages would be repeated. Nevertheless it is fair to say that during the present war the Chinese troops had shown themselves disciplined and tolerant, and Tibetans who had been captured and then released were saying how well they had been treated.
I left Lhasa m the middle of November 1950. I had been hesitating about going, when an opportunity of securing transport made up my mind for me, Aufschnalter, who had originally intended to accompany me hesitated at the last moment; so I took his baggage with me, leaving him to follow a few days later. It was with a heavy heart that I left the house which had been my home for so long, my beloved garden and my servants who stood round me weeping, I took with me only my books and treasures and left everyth]ng else to my servants. Friends kept dropping in with presents which made my going harder. It was a small consolation to think that I would see many of them again in South Tibet. Many of them still firmly believed that the Chinese would never come to Lhasa and that after my leave was over I would be able to return in peace. I did not share their hopes. I knew that it would be long before I saw Lhasa again, so I bade farewell to all the places which I had come to love. One day I rode out with my camera and took as many photos as I could, feeling that they would revive happy memories in the future and perhaps win the sympathy of others for this beautiful and strange land.