Postcolonial criticality stresses the importance of recognizing the complexly intertwined and mutually constitutive relationship between imaginary and material geography. "Imaginary and material geographies are not incommensurate, nor is one simply the product, a disempowered surplus, of the other" (Jacobs 1996, 158). Instead of treating the symbolic in opposition to the material, a richer conceptualization recognizes that there is no "actual" that can be accessed independently of intersubjectivity, that there is no category of the "natural" that is not mediated through culture. This would facilitate an understanding of the spatialized politics of identity as well as the identity politics of space. The former might include a consideration of how particular imaginings of a unified homeland of Tibet shape the discourses of Tibetanness. A discussion of the identity politics of space might, on the other hand, consider how different groups, including the Tibetan government-in-exile, ordinary Tibetan refugees, Tibetans inside Tibet, the Chinese government, Western sympathizers, and the local Himachalis ascribe their own meanings to the place of Dharamsala.
Recognition that all geographies have acquired contested meanings through continuous processes of individual and collective imagination does not preclude a consideration of the physical and structural factors at work. For instance, though the residence of the Dalai Lama and the existence of a government-in-exile are among the more important factors, the physical location of Dharamsala in the hills of the Indian state of Himachal Pradesh has also facilitated its projection and promotion as a "Little Lhasa." Given the reputation of Lhasa as lying on the "roof of the world," it is difficult to imagine a place in the plains (rather than the hills) of India being promoted in the same way. Travel writings that emphasize the relative inaccessibility of Dharamsala are quite common. [77] This resonates with the reputation of Lhasa as the "Forbidden City" at the "roof of the world." In a certain sense, Dharamsala acts as an accessible substitute for those travelers (often white and Western) [78] whose imaginations have been influenced by the earlier writing of imperialist adventurers, "the trespassers on the roof of the world" (to evoke the title of Hopkirk's 1983 book). Thus, the mountainous terrain of McLeod Gunj and its distance from any big city contribute to the symbolic geography of Dharamsala.
The most important structural factor shaping the symbolic geography of Dharamsala is the imperative of refugee status. The locations of Tibetan settlements have been decided entirely by Indian central and state governments. For instance, the Dalai Lama shifted from Mussorie to Dharamsala on Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru's advice in i960. An abandoned British hill station, McLeod Gunj was offered as a suitable quiet place for the Dalai Lama. [79] The transfer of the Central Tibetan Administration (the government-in-exile) followed soon after. Unlike in Lhasa, where the three big monasteries of the Gelugpa order were close to the Dalai Lama's seat, in India these monasteries have been reestablished in far-off places, due to the limitations of land available for settlement. The refugee status of Tibetans in South Asia prohibits them from owning immovable property unless offered by the host government. So any consideration of the symbolic geography of Dharamsala needs to keep these physical and structural factors in mind.
Before dwelling more on Dharamsala and the politics of identity, it should be pointed out that the place commonly designated as the Little Lhasa is actually McLeod Gunj (Upper Dharamsala). As the Himachal Pradesh Tourism Department board reads: "Welcome to Mcleodganj, the little Lhasa in India." The multilayered meanings in this name (McLeod Gunj) may be explored further (something not feasible within the space of this chapter)-British imperialism, the development of hill stations as places of refuge for the imperial class, the indigenization of names, and so on. [80] It can be read as indicating the important role played by British imperial practices in framing the various aspects of the Tibetan question. The distinction between Lower and Upper Dharamsala also reflects a gap between the local population and the refugees. While Tibetans here have generally managed to create their own niche in the wider society, the assertion of difference also leaves the potential open for conflict if the locals perceive the refugees to be a source of problems. [81] The government-in-exile promotes the name Dharamsala, and not McLeod Gunj, as the "Little Lhasa." This may be because Tibetan institutions and establishments are spread throughout the vicinity of Dharamsala. But how far the name "Dharamsala" itself may have inspired it is an open question, for the literal meaning of dharmashala-"the house of god/religion/dharma"-resonates well with the location of the Dalai Lama's residence and several religious institutions. Indirectly, the choice of name, with its association with spiritualism and faith, makes it more appealing to Western tourists too.
DHARAMSALA AS A TEMPORARY HOME: THE DOMINANT STORY
What are the specific ways in which the politics of place as embodied in Dharamsala inform the discourses of Tibetan identity? By drawing upon the usage of the words dharmashala/dharamshala, we can theorize Tibetan identity discourse in two broad ways-one offering the dominant story and the other allowing an alternative reading. Dharamshala in popular Hindi usage refers to a "temporary home," a "guesthouse." The dominant theorization, which has a wide currency among the Tibetan government-in-exile and nationalists as well as non-Tibetan supporters of the Tibetan cause, interprets the experience of diaspora as a temporary and regrettable phenomenon. And indeed, the place Dharamsala is seen as a temporary home with the final destination being the original homeland of Tibet. The exile is seen as a break in the evolution of an ancient civilization in Tibet, a time when it is vital to preserve a pure form of this civilization since it is under erasure in the original home. As my discussion of Exotica Tibet has shown, in journalistic and travel writings one often comes across eulogies to a lost Shangri-la in Tibet (particularly Lhasa) and observations on how the forces of modernization infused under the Chinese rule have spelled doom for the Tibetan culture. Such observations stand in contrast to those about the Tibetan communities living in South Asia, particularly in the area surrounding Dharamsala. In this case, though the cosmopolitan and eclectic cultural scene of McLeod Gunj is recognized, often the emphasis is on the success story of Tibetans in preserving their culture. "Working hard to rebuild their lives and preserve their distinctive and timeless culture and lifestyle, these people… have become arguably the most successful refugee community in the world whilst continuing the non violent struggle for Tibet's freedom in exile" (Barker 1999). The maintenance of Tibetan identity is seen as a functional expression of this culture.
If we are to identify one crucial theme running through the collective discourses and practices of the Tibetan diaspora, it is the preservation of tradition and culture. When some Tibetans, following the Dalai Lama in 1959, left their country as refugees, a need to preserve the traditional religion and culture in the diaspora was felt. This became particularly acute as markers of Tibetan life came under attack during the Cultural Revolution in China and then, since the 1980s, as the Chinese authorities sought to follow a dual policy of political repression and economic liberalization. The acute fear that Tibetan culture would become extinct in its homeland underlines the predominance of a "salvage mentality," a preservation ethos in the Tibetan diaspora. This also provides legitimacy to the diaspora's claim to be a true representative of Tibet, the custodian of an endangered culture.
[77] Unlike most other hill stations in India, Dharamsala has no direct railway connection to any major city. The nearest railhead is eighty-five kilometers away.
[78] There seems to be a difference of motive for traveling to Dharamsala between (white) Westerners and other visitors. The influence of Exotica Tibet is less noticeable in the case of Japanese and Korean visitors (for whom Dharamsala is often only one part of a Buddhist pilgrimage circuit in India) or Indian tourists (for whom it is a replacement for crowded hill stations like Simla). This is not to say that all the Westerners who come here are affected by the Shangri-la myth (since many come for the same reasons as they visit Kullu, Manali, or Goa-the "hippy trail") or that all non-Western tourists are immune to it.
[79] The crucial role played by the Nowrojee family (the biggest proprietor here) in encouraging the development of Little Lhasa needs to be kept in mind. The Nowrojee store's pivotal location at the McLeod Gunj bus stop stands as a silent symbol of this role.
[80] The place is named after Sir Donald Friel McLeod, lieutenant governor of Punjab in the mid-nineteenth century.
[81] Though it is rare for such tensions between Tibetans and local Indians to erupt in full-fledged rioting, the resentment of the locals against Tibetans, who are perceived as wealthier, is evident. I say this from my personal experience of talking to many Indian taxi drivers and shopkeepers. Since for them I was an insider (with Indian nationality), they often expressed their anxiety about the Tibetan "Others."