Photo: Tenzin Dekyi
Through a chain of whispered warnings, passed from neighbor to acquaintance to friend, Tenzin Dekyi’s mother learned devastating news: her brother – a Buddhist monk in Tibet – had been taken away for questioning by Chinese authorities. The trigger was a simple text message from his family.
“When I reach out to my uncle in Tibet, I have to be very careful,” says Tenzin, a young Tibetan refugee now living in France. Today, their family conversations happen only through carefully coded WeChat messages, their real meanings hidden between casual phrases.
Sitting in her flat in Paris, Tenzin, 28, seems like any other young professional – an economic analyst at the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), tracking global development trends. But it’s a life her grandfather could never have imagined. Her family’s story of exile, spanning three generations and four countries, mirrors thousands of others that began when Tibetans first fled Chinese occupation more than six decades ago. The intimate details of her family’s separation highlight the ongoing reality for Tibetans living in diaspora – even as their children forge new paths in the West.
A Prophecy That Changed Everything
Her grandfather had been a monk in Tibet in the 1950s, she said. One day, in his early teenage years, a prophecy changed his life. In Tibet’s final days of independence, before the full force of Chinese occupation transformed the landscape with trains, roads, and an influx of mainland settlers, her grandfather served in one of Tibet’s ancient monasteries. His monastery’s highest abbot was prophesied to be reincarnated in Nepal, and her grandfather was chosen to undertake the sacred task of finding this reborn spiritual leader.
“He crossed the border into Nepal for this sacred mission,” Tenzin said, “but he could never freely return.” As China’s grip on Tibet tightened, her grandfather’s temporary religious journey became permanent exile. He found work at a local monastery in Nepal, where Tenzin’s mother was later born in 1972.
Learning to Be Tibetan Abroad
The challenges of preserving Tibetan identity became apparent as Tenzin’s mother grew up. “There were no Tibetan schools in Nepal,” Tenzin explains. “My grandfather had to make an impossible choice – keep his daughter close or send her to India where she could receive a Tibetan education.”
He chose education, sending his daughter to one of the schools established by Tibetan refugees in India. It was a decision that would shape the family’s future trajectory. “In Tibet today, you can’t use Tibetan language freely, monasteries are destroyed, you can’t practice Tibetan Buddhism,” Tenzin says. “My mother’s generation had to choose between staying close to family and preserving our culture.”
Carrying Tibet in Memory
Born in India, Tenzin represents a new generation of Tibetans who have never seen their homeland. She grew up in a Tibetan settlement studying science and history in Tibetan until sixth grade. “We’re refugees, but it’s different from being immigrants,” she emphasizes. “We have this ongoing struggle, fighting for a country many of us have never seen. It makes staying connected to our roots not just important, but urgent.”
Her daily life in India straddled multiple worlds. She watched Bollywood movies and studied Hindi, while celebrating Tibetan New Year and the Dalai Lama’s birthday in her close-knit refugee community. Yet in her Indian school, she faced a striking disconnect. “There are Tibetan markets all over India,” she says, “but most Indians don’t know about us, about why we’re here. Even after explaining, people wouldn’t understand.”
Three Countries, One Family
Her grandfather eventually returned to Tibet, where he lived until his death a few years ago. Her uncle remains there as a monk, maintaining their family’s religious traditions under increasingly restrictive conditions. Meanwhile, Tenzin has joined the growing number of Tibetans seeking opportunities in Western countries.
“Getting Indian citizenship is nearly impossible,” Tenzin says. “Even when we meet all the requirements, our requests are declined. We’re always foreigners there.” This liminal status has pushed many young Tibetans toward countries like France, where Tenzin now finds community through the Bureau du Tibet, participating in cultural celebrations and advocacy work with organizations like “Students for Free Tibet.”
Writing Tibet’s Next Chapter
The dream of a free Tibet seems increasingly distant to Tenzin’s generation. Even the Dalai Lama now advocates for a “middle-way approach,” seeking autonomy rather than complete independence. “For the older generation still in Tibet,” Tenzin says, “their greatest wish is simply to see the Dalai Lama once before they die.”
Yet across three generations and four countries, Tenzin’s family maintains their connection to a homeland some of them have never seen. They gather in new cities, wear traditional dress, and preserve their language. They navigate technology and surveillance to maintain precious family bonds.
“Our story didn’t end when my grandfather left Tibet,” Tenzin says. “Every time we celebrate our festivals in Paris, every time we teach young Tibetans our language, every time we find new ways to stay connected despite surveillance – we’re keeping Tibetan history.”
Her grandfather’s journey to find a reincarnated Lama led to his family’s dispersal across the world. But in their continued preservation of Tibetan culture, in their maintenance of family ties across borders, they’ve achieved their own form of spiritual continuity – ensuring that Tibet survives.