"I have enough time to rest, but I don't have a minute to waste". Come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.
As I walked closer to Tibet, my homeland, after all the years of my escape into exile,
I can see the snowy mountains bowing down to receive me in their cold, yet warm arms. I can hear the winter wind singing welcoming songs through the willow trees.
I can see the rivers and rivulets running up to receive me down through the valleys.
I can sense heavenly smells running deep down through my nostrils and nerves.
I can see the Yaks and Sheep lined in thousands greeting me with a standing ovation.
I can see the Rhodiola and rhododendron standing at unusual heights as I walked.
I can see the juniper and willow trees dancing on the hills as they saw me return.
I can sense the sunflowers and the red roses receiving me in their best colors and scents.
I can see the crow and cranes flapping feathers together as they receive me.
I can smell the smoke coming from our chimney with the aromas of different dishes.
I can see the siblings stretching their arms in their wildest smiles to reach and receive me.
I can also see the border and boundaries marked with patrolling police.
I can also understand that there is no way I can cross the border and enjoy their welcome.
At Bumla, Indo-Tibet border and Nathang region of Sikkim
Logba Rangzen’s ultimate sacrifice: Self-immolation at the United Nations Headquarters, New York
Yesterday, the world was focused on the 2026 FIFA World Cup. Millions of people watched as the legendary Ronaldo played his final game, entertaining spectators across the globe. That match became one of the most-watched events in history, with over 20 million people glued to their screens.
But at that same moment, in front of the United Nations Headquarters in New York, a Tibetan activist was quietly preparing for a different kind of final act.
He sat calmly beneath a balcony with two bags beside him. One bag was embroidered with a Tibetan flag; the other was a simple plastic bag. No one could have imagined that this calm, happy-looking man was carrying a Chupa—a traditional Tibetan dress—soaked in petrol.
Under the scorching sun, he filmed a video that would become his final will. In the video, his voice was steady and his mind was sharp. He spoke directly to his people: “Communist China is waging a campaign to destroy the Tibetan people through genocidal policies. I have little to say to Tibetans inside Tibet, who are doing everything in their power to safeguard our culture, religion, and language. I am doing this for my country. For the Tibetan nation.”
Even as he recorded his final words, he remained unshakable. It is hard to imagine the strength required to stand firm while knowing he was leaving behind his loved ones, his friends, and the homeland he held so dear—a land he hoped to see just once more in his lifetime. He ended the video with a final cry: “Victory to Tibetan Independence! Victory to Tibet!”
Before making his ultimate sacrifice, he reached out to a few of his closest friends—fellow activists who shared his deep political commitment. Tragically, some missed this final opportunity to speak with their dear friend, a hero, lost in the busyness of their daily work. However, one friend did manage to speak with him. They spoke of the tragedy of Tibet and the frustration of being ignored by a world that only pays attention to bloodshed, while ignoring the peaceful and non-violent path of the Tibetan people. Before they parted, he even asked to take one last photo together— a small keepsake to accompany his soul on its long-awaited return to his homeland.
As police sirens wailed in the distance, he calmly finished his six-minute message. He then dressed himself in his traditional Tibetan Chupa. He put it on perfectly, as if he were preparing for the Gorshey (circle dance) he loved so much. He fixed the Tibetan flag firmly to a pipe he had brought with him. He had clearly searched for the perfect spot—a place where his camera could capture both his flag and the United Nations building.
After setting his phone in the perfect position, he walked slowly to the road sign. He raised the flag, and then, he calmly lit himself on fire.
As the flames consumed his body, he stood firmly for over a minute. There were no screams of agony and no signs of pain. It was as if he had wrapped himself in a monk’s robe. Though the extreme heat of the fire was consuming his body, his mind remained clear. He made sure not to fall back, so he wouldn’t knock over the Tibetan national flag. He had planted it firmly and was careful to keep the flames away from the flag of his hope. His heart was strong but his legs eventually gave way. Still, he did not cry out or struggle. He bent his knees and extended his hands toward the ground in a final prostration.
In that position of deep prayer and respect, he laid his body down toward the United Nations building. Even as flames covered 90% of his body, he held onto a desperate hope that the United Nations—the place meant to resolve the world’s suffering—would finally look at Tibet.
As he burned, the world continued to move. Some people walked by without even noticing. Others passed at their normal speed, as if the sight were common. Cars rushed by, honking their horns, with no one stopping to help or extinguish the flames. Finally, officials arrived with fire extinguishers and put out the fire.
The world watched a game yesterday, but it missed a hero. He gave everything—his life, his future, and his very body—to be a voice for a nation that is being silenced.
Like this brave man, more than 160 Tibetans have offered their sacred lives for the cause of Tibet, protesting against Chinese repression. Too many have died in silence, their flames of freedom extinguished by state censorship and control. The regime has not only silenced the self-immolators but has also suppressed their families and entire villages through intimidation. In the past, many voices, slogans, and footages never reached the halls of power, but this time is different. Loga Rangzen, a Tibetan martyr, set himself on fire directly in front of the United Nations Headquarters.
The UN may try to turn a blind eye, looking through the thick lenses of Chinese influence, but the visuals are now everywhere for the world to see. We hope that this time, the world will finally hear the cry of a burning nation and acknowledge seventy years of suffering. What more could a man possibly do to demand truth and justice?
What a sad and tragic irony. Only yesterday evening, I was introducing Gen Lhasang La to my uncle’s daughters. As we watched his interviews and read his poetry, they were struck by his commanding presence and his steadfast warrior spirit. It feels unbelievable that he has passed so soon after. But I find comfort in the fact that they came to know him and his legacy while he was still with us, rather than just through the memorial tributes to which we have become so accustomed. May he return in a swift rebirth and through many future incarnations, carrying that same indomitable spirit.
Not long ago, I wrote a poem on Gen Lhasang Tsering la’s commitment and character. Although I had read his poetry, I hadn’t seen any of his interviews or speeches. Initially, I thought my poem captured his essence well. However, after watching a video interview where he expressed his anger through non-verbal cues, I was struck by his depth. Upon re-reading my poem, I felt it fell short of doing him justice. My words seemed inadequate to describe his dedication, courage, and unwavering commitment to the Tibetan cause.
During my time working at Tibetan Youth Congress, I had the privilege of meeting him on several occasions. One notable instance was when he visited our office, seeking someone to type out part of his handwritten book. I agreed to help, and he was grateful, even offering me his laptop as a token of appreciation. However, I declined, suggesting he give it to someone who might assist him further in the future. This was shortly after the first COVID-19 wave, and he was planning to publish the book once restrictions were lifted. Although he visited Delhi to find a publisher, he returned disappointed. Despite my reminders, I didn’t hear about the book’s progress afterward. I also had the opportunity to escort him to the hospital on several occasions.
February 13, 2022: At the well-known Juduk Kupchak. A memorable afternoon spent having sweet tea and presenting one of my poems to Gen la.”
One day, I received a call from the Tibetan settlement officer regarding Gen La’s health condition, and we immediately rushed to his house. We found him lying pale and weak on his bed, likely having gone without food for a while. Fortunately, he was still breathing; otherwise, his condition might have been mistaken for something more severe. We carefully lifted him onto a sheet and transported him to the ambulance through the steep stairs of his house.
We rushed to Delek Hospital, with the TYC Vice President accompanying him in the ambulance while I followed on my bike. Upon arrival, the nurse administered an injection—something he would normally resist with all his strength. But this time, he was too weak. His body had deteriorated; he lacked the energy to fight back against the injection or any other medical treatment. His foot had lost its natural flesh tone, appearing dry and lifeless. He could barely speak. But once he regained consciousness, he softly murmured, “I want to return.” Someone beside him asked, “Return where?” Lying on his deathbed, Gen La responded, “I want to return… return to the country I came from.” This statement gave me a goosebumps, inspired me and made me reflect on his unwavering determination to return to a free Tibet. It was a dream that consumed his every sleepless night and a thought that never left his mind—even as he walked back and forth from McLeod Ganj to TCV and from McLeod Ganj to Dharamkot. His stomach skin was dry and loose, a sign of having gone without food for days.
Taken on June 7, 2024, shortly after Gen la was hospitalized. He had become so frail and pale that he no longer had the strength to resist the injections.
He received treatment, and when I visited Delek Hospital the next day, his daughter had arrived. She was doing her best to care for him—massaging his frail body and gently feeding him spoonful of soup, though he could barely swallow.
On another day when I visited him, he had regained some strength—he was eating chopped fruits and could move his body again. At one point, he said something in Tibetan, but his daughter seemed to have missed it. She asked him to repeat it in English. Gen La grew furious, turned his back to her, and refused to speak for a while. He is a true warrior, one who longs for his daughter and all Tibetans to return to a free Tibet—not as outsiders who barely speak Tibetan or understand its unique culture and identity, but as proud Tibetans. His frustration wasn’t just with his daughter—it was with himself. Having studied in an English-medium school, he was angry at his own fluency in English while struggling with his Tibetan writing skills.
Gen La has always been vocal about the misuse of terminology when countering the CCP. Time and again, he would visit the office, meticulously pointing out technical errors in our statements or pamphlets, always arriving with his well-written pencil notes. He observe everything we do, often watching as he passed by the office. One day, while walking along Bhagsu Road below the TYC office, he noticed something that compelled him to come straight inside. He told us, “The Tibetan national flag on our pole is caught between the threads and isn’t flapping freely like the TYC flag on the other side.” Gen La had come specifically to ensure that the national flag flew as proudly as the TYC flag. His patriotism is unmatched, and his dedication has inspired many young Tibetans like myself.
Gen Lhasang la’s passion for Tibet is palpable when he speaks about our nation. He conveys his thoughts with conviction, speaking from both the mind and heart. This sincerity is a rare quality, especially among many younger generations. I’ve noticed that many Tibetan experts, despite discussing grave issues, often struggle to convey the gravity of the situation through their tone and facial expressions. They may smile or appear nonchalant, undermining the seriousness of the matters they’re addressing, such as the critical issues facing Tibet.
What strikes me about Gen Lhasang la is his ability to convey the gravity of Tibet’s situation through not only his words but also his tone, facial expressions, and body language. I’ve had the privilege of watching his interviews, and his emotions resonate deeply. He speaks his heart out, and his sincerity is inspiring and encouraging.
I admire Gen Lhasang la’s strength in expressing his outrage against the CCP’s atrocities, both verbally and through his non-verbal cues. His commitment to the Tibetan cause is a beacon of hope, and I don’t think I am the only one who aspire to emulate his conviction and passion.
Taken on 27th August 2022, during the TYC General Body Meeting open ceremony held at Imperial Heights.
Despite his wholehearted commitment to the restoration of Tibetan independence, Gen Lhasang la faced significant backlash and criticism from those who mistook his political stance for opposition to His Holiness the Dalai Lama. In reality, he never stood against His Holiness; he simply disagreed with the Middle Way Policy. When it comes to pure loyalty and trust, none of us can match Gen la’s devotion.
I am reminded of an incident from his childhood at Wynberg-Allen, an English school. One of the sisters looking after the children saw news of the tragedy in Tibet and prayed aloud, ‘May God save the Dalai Lama and his people.’ Young Gen Lhasang la became furious and told her: ‘My God, the Dalai Lama, is not inferior to your God. He does not need your God’s support; he is capable of overcoming this tragedy himself.’
That was his instinctive response. Who among us has that level of fierce reverence and respect for our leader?
26 November 2023: Sharing sweet tea with Gen la on Temple Road, McLeod Ganj.
