The Dalai Lama's a shifty one.

I arrived to Dharamsala with little hope of seeing His Holiness. Already this year, he abruptly canceled his annual March teachings due to poor health & probable international engagements with Richard Gere. With a busy schedule of whipping around the world or bopping around to various parts of India, the D.L. calls the Hyatt as much home as his modest mountain palace in Dharamsala. One wonders the kind of frequent flier miles His Holiness racks up and whether he claims these all-expenses-paid trips on his income taxes. I would safely assume that he, like the rest of us, cooks the books a pinch.

To counter mother nature's cruelly cursing me with unadulterated man-boobs, lady luck bestowed upon me a once in a lifetime chance at a face to face encounter with the Nobel laureate himself! He happened to be in town for a few days to give a talk to the Tibetan students in the area. Something about the 37 somethings of the Bodhisattvas... Who cares!? I was going to see the Tibetan rebel numero uno in the flesh!

My attempt to obtain tickets for indoor seating for the 2 day event were rebuffed so instead I did what any devoted Buddhist would do: relentlessly stalk him at the place his motorcade & entourage (including bodyguards, handlers, sycophants, well-wishers, et.al.) would deposit him.

Mission accomplished. And to boot, I nearly touched him, before a bodyguard swiftly deflected my clammy open palm out of His Holiness' middle path.