“I realized early that despite her gregarious and inherently buoyant disposition, a certain sadness resided in my mother. Even I, her only child, whom she loved more than anything in the world, could do little to soothe the sorrow that… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“I have lived my life defined as a refugee in Nepal and India, a resident alien and immigrant in the United States. At last,… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“My mother showed her gratitude for her life in exile by alluding to India’s modernity: the expansive railway network; the Bollywood movies she came… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“Home, to me, was any place by my mother’s side. Since my mother’s death, the idea of home has assumed many forms. I use… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“She disciplined her memory to give up counting her losses. She gave her suffering one name: exile.” — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“The young, he says, confuse desire with love, and they end up hurting everyone around them.” — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“It is past eight. The hills before me are bathed in a gentle light that falls like sleep on weary eyes. Everything is soft… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“When I am with my mother’s people, I realize I have a lot to unlearn. I look to them to uncomplicated my notions of… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“We learn we cannot form deep roots because we do not have the right to place or citizenship, and because we do not have… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“How is it possible to protect your loved ones from old heartaches?” — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“In towns, the nomads remain outsiders for a while. They become a class divorced from their occupation as herders. They are called drokpa in… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“This land makes me believe anything is possible. Here lies a gift unraveled as was meant to be: within its many folds are men,… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
“Here in Tibet live the people my mother taught me to love before I met them. We are family, and love has undetermined aptitude… — Tsering Wangmo Dhompa Copy Share Image
