Chapter 2
Christopher Pelham- Jenkins walled up the majestic steps that led up to the Foreign Office. These steps usually had a red carpet laid out for visiting foreign dignitaries. Britain's military power might have waned, but her diplomatic influence was as strong as ever. Especially for the new rulers of her innumerable former colonies, Britannia still ruled the waves. As a result the red carpet was laid out almost, everyday for some visiting heads of state or prime minister. Waving breezily to the uniformed guards at the entrance Christopher entered the chandeliered foyer and walked down a colonnaded corridor and up another broad curving staircase that led to his room on the second floor.
Divesting himself of his umbrella and briefcase, Christopher made himself at home in his old chair, high backed and with arm rests padded with brown velvet. Having made himself at home and noted that the In tray had nothing worthy of his attention, he waited impartiently for his visitors to arrive. The sounds of distant traffic reached him faintly through the plate glass of the large windows that lined one side of the room. Pulling aside the heavy curtains he looked out on the misty cityscape. In front was the Horse Guards Parade and beyond that, Duck Island in St. James' Park. The willows in the pond could only be seen dimly through the mist. A typical December morning, English weather, Christopher, who had lived through the heat and dust of many an Indian summer knew the value of rain and mist. He had often longed to see, during the parched and blazing summers in India, tree trunks wet with rain, grasses gemmed with rain drops, mist swirling around street Lamps and the steaming breath on cold mornings like the present one.
His secretary Maragret Watson walked into room. Maragret looked like everyone's idea of the ideal secretary. She wore a sharply tailored navy blue serge jacket over a skirt of some similar material. Her blonde hair, of which she was justifiably proud was brushed back and tied up in a rather severe bun, which nonetheless looked becoming on her. She could have been an air hostess or a marketing executive. Christopher knew he was lucky to have her.
"What is it Maragret?"
"The two Tibetans whom you were expecting have arrived. Shall I send them in."
"Yes ! do. Maragret! what are they like?"
"Well one is a nice, well- dressed gentlement rather like an oriental Clark Gable, the other is a monk, a sort of Friar Tuck in purple robes, but with a great deal of dignity. You can see for yourself."
"Well send the tea in the special Severes service, not the usual FO crockery. Tibetans set great store by tea, i am told."
Jenkins walked to the door to receive his two visitors and escorted them to a sofa that formed a little ensemble in one corner of his room. They were introduced to him as Sonam Namgyal, the Dalai Lama's special representative in Britain and Kalu Rinpoche. None of the visitors had a clearly defined diplomatic status, but in view of the Foreign Secretary's obvious interest in the matter, protocol had to be set aside and special courtesies were naturally the order of the day.
Jenkins broke the ice with some non- committal remarks about the weather. Usually a safe gambit, especially with foreigners who never failed to be intrigued by the British obsession with their weather. "Beastly weather, this. You must find our island cold and wet."
"Mr Jenkins we find the famous British weather quite delightful let me assure you. We do not mind the rain, we see so little of it in Tibet, or in that part of India where we now live, and the cold- after the bone chilling weather of Tibet, is mildly bracing in fact. I can truthfully assert that I quite enjoy your weather, and so does Kalu Rinpoche."
He Looked at the Monk as he said this and the old gentleman smiled briefly in response. He was dressed in purple robes, with a sleeve- less yellow tunic underneath and open leather sandals. Chirstopher Jenkins wondered whether he wore woollen underwear underneath his vestments. He did not look the kind of man who would do so. He seemed completely in tune with his surroundings and radiated good health and peace. His head was tonsured but his eyebrows, curiously bushy for a Tibetan, were white. There was a network of wrinkles around his eyes, but otherwise his face and body betrayed no sign of age. He could have been anything from fifty to eighty. The eyes, amid the metwork of wrinkles were bright and glittering, but their expression was inscrutable.
The other man, Sonam Namgyal was quite a young man by contrast. He was tall and well- built and had black hair brushed straight back and a neat hairline moustache. He was well dressed and carried himself well. His English was almost without the trace of any accent. He might have been, but for his obviously oriental looks, an English country gentleman, visiting the town on a weekly outing.
"You speak English very well Mr Namgyal," said Christopher.
"I was educated in England. Harrow and Cambridge. "Said Namgyal.
"Indeed. That makes you more or less English."
"Yes, it also makes me fiercely nationalist, Mr Jenkins, the English Public School, despite the cold baths and the fagging and the occasional pederasty, is a great institution because it teaches its students to be proud of their country and their traditions. Can you imagine what it is like to have no country to call your own. To have your culture and traditions systematically destroyed, your treasured possessions ground underfoot, your temples desecrated. No you can not, because you have never had to face that trauma." Namgyal's eyes glittered as he said this.
"That's true but I can understand how you feel about it," Christopher said diplomatically.
"However, it is not my intention to trouble you with a recital of my country's misfortunes. Mr Jenkins, may I ask if you have been briefed about the purpose of our visit?"
"Well the Foreign Secretary did say it was something of great moment, but he did not go into details. He wanted me to find out for myself," said Christopher.
"Very well, in that case I will come to the point straightaway. You are no doubt aware that until the brutal Chinese. assault on Tibet in 1951, it had always been, in practice, an independent state. When your country ruled India, it was their policy, and a very wise policy it was, if I may say so, to maintain the independence of Tibet in word and deed. The Government of India during the days of the Raj concluded several treaties with the Government of Tibet regarding the Indo-Tibetan border, and as you will readily agree, the power to make treaties is one of the foremost attributes of sovereignty. Nonetheless, the independence of Tibet, though an indubitable historical fact, has never been openly acknowledged by China. The Chinese claim to Tibet rests on certain historical events pertaining to the sixteenth and seventeenth century. Still they have no documentary evidence in support of their claim. They can't produce any treaty or document wherein the Government of Tibet has specifically acknowledged the sovereignty of China over Tibet. They rely on misrepresentation of historical facts and in the last analysis on brute force. The world has so far accepted their claims partly because it is inclined to believe the stronger party and partly because the Tibetan side, for its part, has not come out with anything that could conclusive refute the Chinese claims. Tibet's de facto independence is not in doubt. But this according to the Chinese side was merely a temporary aberration permitted by the weakness of the moribund Chinese Empire under the Manchus. The Chinese say that Tibet behaved like an independent kingdom only because the Chinese state was too weak to enforce its legal authority over Tibet. Are you with me Mr Jenkins?"
"Yes, go on."
"Now imagine what will happen if the Tibetan side were able to produce a treaty where the independence of Tibet was specifically acknowledged by the Chinese. What will happen? If I may use a colloquial expression, in one stroke, the Chinese claims over Tibet will be knocked into a cocked hat. Tibet's independence would then be established beyond doubt and the world will have no option but to act in its support. Consider Mr Jenkins, the momentous import of such a document.
"No doubt, but if such a document existed would it not have been brought to light long ago?" said Chistopher.
The lama now spoke for the first time. "Such a document exists. What is more Mr Jenkins I have seen it with my own eyes."
The lama had a grave, deep, voice which compelled attention. Christopher nodded his head politely but his scepticism must have showed in his face because the lama spoke again, "Ah! Mr Jenkins, I can see that you do not beleve me. As my young friend Namgyal will tell you, I had a small role to play in concluding this treaty and I could tell you where the treaty now lies in a secret chamber in the archives of the Potala. Perhaps there is no one else now alive who could do so. The Chinese know nothing about the mysteries of this great palace. This particular treaty is in a secret location in one of the thousands of room in the Potala, a fact unknown to the Chinese, and indeed to almost anyone else. But I would ask you to suspend disbelief for the moment and listen to Sonam Namgyal. When he has finished, you can interrogate me, as much you like."
It was Namgyal who now spoke. "Let me take you back, Mr Jenkins, to 1949. The place is Chunking. Chiang Kai Shek, beleaguered by Mao's Red Army, sent a message to the Tibetan government for help. He was aware that the Tibetan government could, if it liked, put into the field an army of a hundred thousand Khampa fighters to take on the Reds. The Khampas, as you know are fierce fighters, famed for their valour, and Chiang Kai Shek knew this. So did his adversary. The Khampa army, if it ever took the field could easily turn the tide in favour of the Nationalist Government, which was losing ground everywhere.
The Tibetan Government considered the request. General opinion among informed circles in Tibet still thought Chiang Kai Shek would win. The Tibetan Government felt that Chiang Kai Shek's Nationalists, though no friends of Tibet, were better, any day, than the godless Communists, but they would intervene in the conflict only on one condition. This condition, Mr Jenkins, was that the Chinese Government recognize the independence and sovereignty of Tibet."
Namgyal paused briefly. He took out a cigarette and lit it. "You can easily guess what followed, Mr Jenkins. Can't you."
"Even if I can, I would still like to hear the details from, you."
"Well! A treaty was drawn up and taken to Chiang Kai Shek. This treaty, I should mention, merely reiterated what was already stated in the treaty of AD 821. signed between Tibet and China. That treaty, Mr Jenkins, was signed to ratify the eastern border of Tibet with China. You are no doubt aware that Tibetan armies had entered Xian, the ancient capital of China in 768AD, after inflicting a crushing defeat on the Chinese side. The treaty of 821 merely formalised the status quo. The boundary between Tibet and China then agreed to, extended well beyond the headwaters of the Yangteze and the Yellow river, far beyond the present boundary which follows the watershed between the Mekong and the Salween rivers. However this is only by the way. The point is that the independence of Tibet is a historical fact of long standing and Chaing Kai Shek had no option but to acknowledge this when the new treaty was signed." Sonam Namgyal smoked in silence for a while.
"If this treaty was signed in 1949 why was it not brought to the knowledge of the world earlier. Surely the Tibetan claim of independence would have been greatly strengthened had the treaty been available to support it?" Asked Jenkins.
"Good question Mr Jenkins! But I haven't finished my story. After the treaty was signed the Tibetans prepared their army. It took a while to get the Khampas ready for battle. You must understand that we did not have a standing army in Tibet at that time, except a very small force. As a matter of fact, Tibet is one nation that has never really had a standing army. We have put our trust in peace and the power of our religion to protect us. So the Khampa fighters had to be summoned from all corners of the land, from farms and homesteads scattered all over the mountains. Then they had to be armed and equipped. These arms were to be supplied by the Chinese, and they had trouble finding the supplies to equip the army. All this took some time. In the meantime the Nationalist resistance collapsed with surprising rapidity. Before the Khampa army could take the field the game was up, Mao's Communists had taken over China and Chiang Kai Shek and his Kuomintang supporters had fled to the island of Formosa, where they remain to this day.
The Chinese copy of the treaty was never traced out. It probably fell into the hands of the Communists and they naturally had their own reasons for not making it public. It is possible, though unlikely, that this treaty was taken to Formosa by the fleeing Kuomintang forces. Certainly Chiang Kai Shek never referred to this document publicly. But then there was no reason why he should have done so. The Kuomintang has always claimed to be the legitimate government of China. Its public posture has been as militaristic and-xenophobic as the Reds. It would therefore have been difficult for Chiang Kai Shek to acknowledge publicly that his government had, in the face of military defeat, accepted the independence of Tibet. This should answer your question, or at least a part of it.
"What you say is plausible, but what about the Tibetan copy of the treaty? Surely that should have surfaced long ago, given its profound impact on Sino-Tibetan relations."
"Quite true. And there Mr. Jenkins, we come to the dramatic part of the story. What I am going to say, may well strain your credulity, but it is no more than the bare truth. The Tibetan plenipotentiary who signed the treaty on behalf of his government was the Abbot of the monastery of Rongbuck. You must have heard of the monastery of Rongbuck which lies on the northern approach to Mount Everest. The Abbot of the monastery was a lama who was said to be the fourteenth incarnation of the famous Songsten Lama, who was renowned for his mastery of the ancient art of Tantra. After having obtained the signatures of the Chinese government on the treaty it was brought to Lhasa and duly deposited in the archives."
Sonam Namgyal stubbed out his cigarette and walked up to the windows to look out on the prospect of the London skyline, shrouded in mist. After gazing silently through the window he returned to the middle of the room. "Mr. Jenkins, soon after the Reds assumed power in China, the Tibetan government sent them a note, asserting their independence and seeking reassurances from the new government. The Communists made it clear that they had no intention of respecting Tibetan independence. They repudiated the treaty signed by the Nationalist Government. Indeed they even denied the existence of such a treaty, in their usual fashion. They knew however that a copy of this treaty existed with the Tibetan Government and this document, if ever it came, to light, could knock the bottom out of their claims of sovereignty. The first thing they did on arriving in Lhasa, therefore, was to ransack the archives of the Potala. They did not find the treaty, because anticipating just such a situation, the Tibetan side had taken the precaution of hiding the document in a secret Place in the Potala, of which the Chinese have no knowledge. The second thing that they did was to arrest the Abbot of Rongbuck and put him in the Drapchi prison in Lhasa. The Abbot was subjected to fearful tortures in prison, but the Chinese got nothing out of him. Finally after nearly forty years in prison, they released the Lama only a month ago. Immediately on release the Lama made for the Indian border and on the pretext of going on a pilgrimage to Kailash and Mansarovar, was able to escape to India through the pass of Bud Bud La in western Tibet. The Chinese border patrols nearly succeeded in cutting short this adventure. They sighted the Lama on his way to the pass and he was fired upon by the patrol. However, as it was nearly dark and the Lama knew the terrain better than the Chinese, he was able, by dint of hard travelling through the night, to slip through the Chinese security and reach the village of Nelang in the Indian district of Uttarkashi in the morning."
Sonam Namgyal paused once again and lit another cigarette. He then fished out a twisted piece of lead from the pocket of his jacket and rolled it across the glass top of the table towards Jenkins. "Do you know what this is Mr. Jenkins? No? it is a bullet fired by a Chinese 5.6mm automatic rifle. Get your ballistic experts to check it out. It was extracted from the Lama's left shoulder at St. Stephen's Hospital, Chelsea only three days ago.
And now Mr. Jenkins let me introduce you to the Abbot of Rongbuck, his excellency kalu Rinpoche, the fourteenth incarnation of the Songsten Lama."
As the Lama rose to shake hands, his purple robe fell off his left shoulder, showing a pad of surgical dressing kept in place by two crossed bands of sticking plaster. His handshake was firm and his eyes glinted with secret mirth. "It was a chance shot Mr Jenkins, that went home. The Chinese border guards should have got me, but my mission gave me strength. Through my forty years of incarceration, Mr Jenkins, I kept myself alive only so I could tell the world about this treaty. But I could do nothing as long as I was in prison. Now that long awaited time has come, but one thing still remains to be done.''
"And what is that?"
"We have to recover the treaty from Lhasa, otherwise no one would believe us, and that is why we have come to you.
The Lama's sincerity and conviction were obvious. Jenkins decided that he must tell his chief to move heaven and earth to recover this document. He had become a partisan to the cause without realising it.
