The Good Doctor

Yesterday, Sat. Oct. 27th, I decided to go visit the Main Temple, the Dalai Lama's temple. I've noticed that while McLeod Ganj feels different than the few other places I've been in India, amongst its Tibetan prominence lies an undeniable Indian influence. Hindu sahdus and Indian beggars line the entrance to the Temple as Buddhist Monks humbly float by. There's a certain shamelessness in Indian culture and its readily apparent juxtaposed against Tibetan culture in McLeod Ganj. Honking and cows eating trash out of the gutters constantly remind you that your still very much in India.

The main temple for Tibetan Buddhists located here in McLeod Ganj, like its culture, is modest. Sure, it has incredibly elaborate gold-laden shrines to Bodhisattvas and venerated Tibetan Buddhist legends, but overall, the management of American mega-churches would surely demand a face-lift - it's tough to tell you're at the Temple from the outside. The Temple righteously challenges the notion that grandeur is a requirement of respect and shows that it's whats inside that counts.

A shrine to Buddha overlooks the covered chair where the Dalai Lama will sit and give his teaching.

For the final paper in an upper-division Buddhist ethics class I took at UCSB, I researched Tibetan Buddhist debate and argued that it cultivates ethics. It was quite cool to get to watch the real deal as monks debated in the main square of the temple.

The temple has hidden nooks of beauty, evident in the golden prayer wheels.

I'm glad I decided to walk to the Temple as I had been told that the 28th was the day when people went to claim their cushion spot for the teaching. On the 27th, cushions were already filling in the upper temple. With the help of a very nice lady from Seattle who has attended teachings for 21 years and a friendly monk, I grabbed a cushion, got a place, and secured a seat with a direct line of sight to the Dalai Lama. It was recommended to return to the temple in the early afternoons and evenings to check on my cushion, making sure it's still there. Unfortunately, people decide they want to sit where you're sitting and uplift your cushion to put theirs down. So far so good, my cushion seems locked-in for the upcoming event.

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This morning, I went to go see Dr. Yeshi Dhonden. I've read books by the doctor and learned about Tibetan medicine at UCSB. Visiting him was a major reason to go to India, as it is for people all over the world. He was born in Lhasa, Tibet where at age eleven, he memorized the four Tibetan Medical texts and studied under the director of the Tibetan Medical Institute. He then moved to Dharamsala at the urging of the Dalai Lama where he became His Holiness' personal physical and founded and directed the Tibetan Medical Institute in McLeod Ganj. He is over 90 years old and still sees patients from 9am-1pm everyday except for Saturday in his tiny clinic in a tiny alley.

Tokens (little squares of paper) are given out every morning starting at 8am except for Saturdays at the front desk of the Tibetan Ashoka guesthouse where I'm staying. Just around the corner, the clinic opens at 9am. People begin lining up to receive tokens starting around 5:30 or 6am each morning and it may be days before they get to see the doctor - there is no doubt the Dr. Dhonden's services are in high demand.

There must have been 50 people in line

Fortunately, I asked for a token right when I arrived at the guesthouse on Friday and was squeezed in for Sunday. After waking up to the long line, I was glad I didn't have to wait in line and grateful to see the doctor shortly after I arrived. I showed up to the clinic around 9:30am as my number was 20.

Humble, like most things Tibetan

It was apparent that people from all over India, all over the world, of all different beliefs, faiths, and cultures come to see Dr. Dhonden. It was chaotic - people were jammed in the narrow "entrance hall" as you entered the clinic as well as inside the main waiting room. Anywhere else in the world, a line would form according to what number you had. In India, it was a much different story. The line was dynamic as an older assistant would come out from the clinic every once in a while to check out what numbers were around. He would put a few people in line and then go back inside. His work almost seemed random - I was in line with number 8 and number 19 was pushed out of the way in front of me. Many other people buzzed around, trying to get in days early, comparing numbers, and generally just cluttering the place.

In the "entrance hall" to the clinic, there was a sink. Each patient is requested to bring a urine sample, your first pee of the day as it is the most pure, to the doctor to analyse. I brought mine in a plastic water bottle. Humorously, others brought theirs in whiskey and rum bottles. Dr. Dhonden would come out of his office to the sink and his assistant would request the 5 or 6 people he previously lined up to come forward where you then emptied your urine into a cup held by the doctor. Dr. Dhonden whisked the pee around in the cup, looked at it, and poured it out, rinse and repeat for the next person in line. His memorization skills are obviously incredible.

The sink is under the fluorescent lamp, and the crowd would part to make room for the doctor when he came to analyse our urine. 

Those five or six people were then ushered into the waiting room where the assistant then called us in one by one.

It was my turn, I was called into the office. The small office consisted of a table where a younger assistant sat, writing prescriptions and notes, while the older assistant who kept some semblance of order took cues from the doctor. I sat down in a chair right in front of the doctor and he took my left hand. While sampling my urine, he asked where I was from. I told him "America." In the office, he turned my hand upside-down and started reading my pulse with three fingers. Going from one wrist to the next, he began to talk to me as if I was fluent in the language he was speaking (Hindi I believe, but maybe Tibetan, maybe both!). His assistants were busy talking to the patient before me still in the room, and I would laugh, having no idea what he was saying. Dr. Dhonden would hit his assistant on the arm to get their attention to translate and he joked when I told him that I went to school in Santa Barbara, responding that there are "many rich people there, and also in Malibu!"

After my pulse reading, he asked me what my problem was. I told him I had allergies that sometimes cause asthma. He asked me to lift up my shirt. Slapping my stomach then feeling my rib cage, he put his ear up to my chest and asked me to breathe deeply, then cough. Laughing more together, he asked through his translator when I was leaving Dharamsala. I told him not until Wednesday, but I'd stay as long as I needed to. He asked if I could stay for a week, coming back to see him in seven days  to check on any improvement. Of course I would stay later than I planned and return to his office. He held my cold hands in his warm ones, showing through his eyes (and again speaking in a tongue I couldn't understand) that he was curious why they were so cold (it was freezing in his office!). His assistant handed me my prescription with another sheet stapled to it that listed foods and drinks I should avoid (coffee, sour foods, apples, and others). I left as we exchanged one final smile and said thanks. Just outside the waiting room was the pharmacy where I gave the lady behind the desk my prescription and got four bags of pills, enough for a seven day supply.

My prescription and pills

Tibetan healing is quite a commitment. I'm to take two pills 30 mins before breakfast, 30 mins after lunch, at 4pm, and six pills, four small and two large, 30 mins after dinner. I chew them up and then swallow them with lukewarm or hot water. They smell, and probably taste, like dirt and spices. Total cost for my weeks worth of pills - 160 rupees, just over 3 dollars.

There were some really sick people at the Dr.'s office. A man I was sitting next to in the waiting room had cancer and there was a young boy with an incredibly swollen and disfigured face. All had big hopes that Dr. Dhonden could help them. We'll see how I do. I'm off to check on my cushion again and then do some reading to prepare for the upcoming teachings. Until next time...