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Dear India,

I am a child of this land, yet I don’t belong here. I am sorry I feel this way but that is the truth. Long ago, my grandparents left Tibet and came to India. As refugees, they lived in poverty at a road construction site in Manali and as they built new roads, they also built a new life out of broken dreams.

My mother was born in a small jhuggi at that very road construction site and my father was from Tibet. I don’t remember if my parents ever told me that I didn’t belong to India, but I remember them telling me I was a Tibetan. They never told me as a child that I was a refugee, but I kind of figured that out myself when I was the odd one out at the Sunrise pre-school in Ghaziabad. Or maybe, I was just really smart.

Anyway, I never felt alienated as a child. That dreadful feeling is something which grew bigger in my heart as I grew older. A sense of alienation is not a good feeling to have, especially when you are in a room full of people. And if that ‘room full of people’ turns out to be a country of 1.252 billion Indians…then you can do the math. ”

Growing up, I was taught to be thankful to India and Indians for letting us stay here. When I joined a boarding school for Tibetans in Dharamsala, I was told that eventually we are all going back to Tibet…after we have defeated the Chinese (obviously). I mean, the kind of stories we make up to establish the will to believe what we want to believe is just amazing. If I begin to write about the theories we discussed as naïve children about how we are going to get our Tibet back, then I’d have to write a thousand more letters. And I bet you will not have time to read them, so I will just present some in points.

1. We just have to get back our giant Tibetan national flag that the Chinese have hidden away in the mountains.

2. One has to eat more than a thousand momos against a Chinese opponent.

3. His Holiness, The Dalai Lama, had made a prophecy that Tibet will be free in year 2003.

4. Then it was 2006.

5. Then 2007.

6. …

7. …

8. …

9. …2016 and I am still here.

When I say, “I am still here”, I don’t mean to sound condescending, but when you wait your whole life believing that you are going back home one day and it never happens, then believe me when I say this, “It f**ks you up”.

It might be difficult for some people to understand why I, like many Tibetans, feel alienated when we lead a remarkably good life in India. Believe me, sometimes, it is difficult even for me explain it, despite feeling it too often and too strongly.

But please don’t mistake my sense of alienation as a sign of ingratitude. I don’t look Indian at all and I don’t follow cricket…so that makes me very un-Indian, I suppose. But the fact that I am torn between feeling ‘not at home’ when I am ‘already home’ proves that I am bound to India by blood and soul.

As I sat down to write this letter, I thought I’d write a thank you letter for letting us stay here, for not letting my grandparents die, for giving us a chance at having a future and for making it possible for a refugee’s daughter to work for the biggest English daily in the world.

I am not trying to patronise you – just like I don’t patronise my own parents. I am opening up to you after two decades of silence, hoping that you’ll understand if I feel like a stranger in your home, even after everything that you have done for me. You have not only been a kind host to our people but you are also our godparent. And if I take part in protests, demanding a free Tibet…remember that my country is dying, remember that I am in pain, remember that I really need to go home and it is crucial that you understand.

PS Next time that a Chinese leader visits India, please don’t arrest me when I haven’t even started protesting yet. At least, let me tell you my bit of the story!

Dear India, Thank you.

Your goddaughter,

Tenzin Tsomo