Free Spirit Festival Free Spirit Festival - celebration of Tibetan art and culture, especially reflecting contemporary life.

History 2002 Bhuchung D Sonam

It was sometime in 1972, when the Cultural Revolution was at its peak, that Bhuchung was born in Rivoche, a small village in Tibet. Life for him has been full of twisted faste, chaotic turns and challenges. In 1983, at the age of 11, Bhuchung escaped to India to join Tibetans Children's Village School in Dharamshala. He completed his Bachelors degree from St. Xavier's College, Baroda, and Masters from MS University of Baroda.

In his own words...

I fancied writing poems when I was in school, but due to a dearth of inspiration and encouragement the spark never kindled. But it never died. Writing poetry is a process, an evolution. I will never be a will always be "becoming" one. My approach in writing is to listen to he commands from within, which are spontaneous reactions to life's intricate design ... stark realities.

I do not compose romantic and beautiful lines, for life is not congenial but full of isolation, desolation, upheavals, rootlessness and suppression. I have nothing beautiful to write. Writings must ring bells in the minds of the masses to bring social changes. We must become voice for the voiceless to utter their cries and agonies and not writers of eulogies of those self-righteous occupiers of the high chairs.

Bhuchung D Sonam is presently working for Paljor Publications, New Delhi, a unit of HH the Dalai Lama's Charitable Trust.

For the Young Ones

I am a poet of the new dawn
A trifle rancid though,
From playing with scared words
Like freedom, patriotism, and honour
Which I squeeze into your befuddled mind,
Where they grow into
Grasses of hope, duty, and activity.

You create silence into which I drop my words,
Where they fall in absolute silence,
You do not hear them fall,
They die as martyrs of my conscience
Brought forth to be seen an act upon.
They lay buried deep
Beneath a heap of worries
Accumulated with each failed rat race,
I bombard them with wisdoms of vision
That end in their eyes
As wounded apparitions.

They are tired,
Another rat race begins.

— From his forthcoming book Tibet: a Conflict of Duality