from “The Connection” by Bhuchung D. Sonam

“You have a background,” said the police inspector.

It was the first thing he said after ordering me to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. He knew me from my many previous visits to the police station.

“I…I…” I intentionally fumbled. Having read enough detective stories and crime thrillers, I knew what “background” meant, especially when used by a senior police officer.

“Young man, go on, what do you say to that?” he said.

“Sir, I don’t understand what you mean,” I answered respectfully. I had found that things often worked in my favor when I used polite language and lots of “sirs” with government officials and policemen. These saabs liked to use authoritative language to reinforce their positions of superiority. On the white wall behind the inspector’s head was a map of India on a rusty nail and a two-year-old calendar.

Perhaps the calendar was kept there for its image; an intimidating painting of the four-armed wrathful goddess Kali extending her tongue to her chin and adorned with a necklace of human skulls.

“Kabir, pani lao,” the inspector commanded his peon. A little later a man appeared with two glasses of water. He placed them on the table, bowed a little, and left the room.

“Think . . . think about where you travelled and who you met over the last year,” said the inspector, pushing one of the glasses towards me. I was taken aback when he said “year.” I thought about how I should respond.

“Sir, I just came here to ask about my Identity Certificate. The police inquiry has not come through yet. It’s been two years since I applied,” I said. In fact, it had been more than two years. An IC is the yellow booklet issued to Tibetan refugees as a travel document, in lieu of a passport. It was a complex and laborious procedure to get one. When I called and got through to someone at the Regional Passport Office about the status of my IC, the lady who answered directed me to go to the local police station, since the necessary background clearance must come from there. The police had to issue a No Objection letter and send my file back to the passport office. If the slow-motioned bureaucratic juggling went well, the travel document would be issued within a few years. But any forward movement in the process would not happen without a letter from the local police station. And this was how I landed at the police station.

“I know. We have your file in there,” the inspector said. He pointed to a cupboard packed with rows of spineless yellow cardboard folders each containing forms and handwritten observations clamped together by a neatly knotted white string.

He took a long sip from his glass and made a phone call most likely to someone of equal rank as himself. He mentioned Case Number Twenty-Five a few times and said that he had had no new leads. I stared at the files and at the computer. The keyboard had turned yellowish from age and overuse and the Logitech mouse looked tired. There was a distinct mark of index fingers on the right click button. A 3D text screen With You, For You Always revolved slowly on the monitor. The CPU swished as the system fan blew out hot air from the hard disk. I felt anxiety building inside me. The phone call ended with a Hindi maxim that could be loosely be translated as “the fish will land in the net.”

“So, tell me.” he said. The inspector rose from his chair, cracked his fingers and threw a few punches with his right fist into the open palm of his left hand. I knew about police beatings. But the inspector did not look like the type who would use his belt. His oil-soaked hair was carefully parted from the left to the right side of his head and his thick black mustache was disciplined downward into two horn-tipped ends, touching the edges of his mouth symmetrically. He wore gold-colored spectacles and had two pens sticking out of his shirt pocket. He looked like a seasoned teacher, except for his khaki uniform. Nevertheless, I was scared.

“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “I am a college student and I applied for an Identity Certificate. I hope to get a scholarship to study abroad.”

“Good. That is good.” He paced around the office. It was a hot day. The ceiling fan creaked as it circulated stale air. All the windows were closed. The room was suffocating.

“Tell me about your friends.”

“Sir?”

“Your friends, tell me about your friends,” he repeated.

“I have many friends, sir.” Now I began to see what this was about. I hesitated, “Sir, you want me to name them?”

Table of Contents

Introduction, Tenzin Dickie
1. Wink, Pema Bhum
2. The Silence, Jamyang Norbu
3. Ralo, Tsering Dondrup
4. Under the Shadow, Bhuchung D Sonam
5. The Agate and the Singer, Kyabchen Dedrol
6. The New Road Controversy, Takbum Gyal
7. Nyima Tsering’s Tears, Woeser
8. Hunter’s Moon, Jamyang Norbu
9. The Flight of the Wind Horse, Pema Tsewang Shastri
10. Letter for Love, Tsering Wangmo Dhompa
11. The Connection, Bhuchung D. Sonam
12. Light, Tsering Lama
13. The Season of Retreats, Tsering Namgyal Khortsa
14. The Dream of a Wandering Minstrel, Pema Tseden
15. The Fifth Man, Tenzin Dorjee
16. Winter in Patlikuhl, Tenzin Dickie
17. Snow Pilgrimage, Kyabchen Dedrol
18. Zumki’s Snowlion, Tenzin Tsundue
19. Dolma, Dhondup Tashi Rekjong
21. Tips, Pema Bhum
21. The Valley of the Black Foxes, Tsering Dondrup

• “Dickie’s hope is that these stories will speak of how ordinary Tibetans are “navigating the space between tradition and modernity, occupation and exile, the national and the personal.”—a review of OLD DEMONS, NEW DEITIES in The Hindu (8/15/2019)
• “Old Demons, New Deities is the first English language collection of contemporary Tibetan fiction.”—a review of OLD DEMONS, NEW DEITIES in The Lion’s Roar (8/15/2019)
• “For many readers, Tibet means “Free Tibet” bumper stickers and Shangrila fantasies, but these stories evoke a different vision.”—a review of OLD DEMONS, NEW DEITIES in The Los Angeles Review of Books (8/15/2019)
• ” One of the most enriching, comforting even, aspects of reading literature is finding in it a reflection of oneself.”—a review of OLD DEMONS, NEW DEITIES by Tenzin Dickie in Telegraph India (8/15/2019)
• “How we shape our narratives, who gets to tell our stories, from which point of view, all that has very real consequences because we live and relive our stories.” —Tenzin Dickie, editor of OLD DEMONS, NEW DEITIES in an interview for World Literature Today (7/1/2019)
• “Elegant and accessible stories… this collection will go a long way to encouraging further interest in Tibetan literature.” – OLD DEMONS, NEW DEITIES reviewed at the Asian Review of Books (9/19/2018)
• “Elegant and accessible stories on a variety of themes by the most distinguished of modern Tibetan writers.” OLD DEMONS, NEW DEITIES reviewed in Scroll.in (6/18/2018)