In today's episode of exploring Delhi, I visited the famous tourist attraction in Delhi 'Majnu ka Tila'. It represents the Tibetan culture and cuisine; it's a bustling area popular among the college students. You can hangout with friends and try the famous boba tea.
I've had this thing for well over a decade (maybe 15 years?) and I can't believe that I haven't taken a picture of it until now.
This is a crystal ball that has two layers of some weird form of laser etching inside it: one, in the background, is some form of Tibetan Buddhist emblem and the other is a spiral of written Tibetan (I think?) that is likely either part of the Heart Sutra or some other major work of Tibetan Buddhist scripture. (I don't read Tibetan and have no idea how to even start decoding this.)
It's one of my favourite things. I just love the look and the vibe it brings.
'authors of a new study published in Science Advances have pinpointed a genetic variant that may have helped this population adapt to life at extraordinary heights. Tibetans in the Himalayas possess a different mutation in the same gene, suggesting both groups independently evolved similar adaptations to high-altitude living. The finding demonstrates “how evolution can sometimes favor common solutions to a common problem,” says Graham Scott, a physiologist at McMaster University who wasn’t involved in the study.'
The ‘90s – an era bursting with musical revolutions, and smack in the middle, our unlikely obsession: Gregorian chants.
It was so far out there, so against the grain that its emergence was nothing short of outrageous. At the forefront of this tidal wave was our tribe, a motley crew of teens, ready to defy norms and embrace the raw, unbridled power of these ancient chants.
The event that marked the turning point was on November 2nd, 1994, in the atmospheric surroundings of the Gothic Hall in downtown New York City. The group? The Cistercian Monks of St. Benedict’s. Few knew what to expect, but by the end of the night, every soul in that hall knew they had witnessed history.
I was there, right in the middle of the hall. The lighting was ethereal, the incense heady. As the chants began, the room became electric. The monks, with their serene faces and deep, resonating voices, chanted melodies that felt like they were being pulled straight from the heavens. With each verse, they drew us deeper into a trance, a shared spiritual journey.
Among the captivated audience were a few faces that would later become synonymous with the Gregorian chant movement. There was Lydia, with her fiery red hair, who’d later start “Echoes of Eternity”. Beside her, Julian and Marcus, both mesmerized, would soon form “Monastic Pulse”. Towards the back, engrossed in the musical spectacle, were Sofia and Nathan. Their collaboration would give rise to “The Timeless Ones,” another iconic chant ensemble.
As the final notes of the chants lingered in the air, I felt changed, reborn almost. There was an overwhelming sense of having been part of something much larger than myself, something transformative. That night, not only had my perception of music been altered, but the very core of my being felt invigorated.
Inspired and on fire, my friends and I decided to take this newfound passion and share it. Together with Lydia and Julian, I co-founded “Celestial Echoes”, a group dedicated to pushing the boundaries of Gregorian chants, intertwining them with our modern experiences and stories.
Our journey wasn’t easy. We faced skepticism and ridicule, but we were fueled by the magic of that November night. Every time we performed, we aimed to recreate the ethereal atmosphere of the Gothic Hall, to transport our audience back to that life-changing concert.
And we weren’t alone. Across the city, other chant groups were springing to life, each with its own unique flavor, yet all bound by the shared memory of November 2nd. Our movement was more than just about the music; it was about rebellion, expression, and finding our place in a rapidly changing world.
As the years unfolded, the media’s fascination with our movement began to shift from intrigue to alarm. Talk shows, especially, turned into hotspots of confrontation. When Sofia from “The Timeless Ones” appeared on “The Sally Jessy Raphael Show”, instead of focusing on the chants’ beauty and history, Raphael zeroed in on the rebellious undertones of our movement. Questions flew about our “audacious” choice to adopt such an ancient form of expression in modern times and whether it was a sign of teenage rebellion taken to the extreme. Sofia, trying to convey the depth and spirituality of the chants, was often overshadowed by the narrative of us being these upstart rebels causing chaos and panic.
The New York Post amplified this sentiment. Articles portrayed us as the audacious youths, challenging the conventional musical landscape with our “radical” chant sessions and “provocative” monastic attire. Our dedication to Gregorian chants, instead of being seen as a return to roots, was painted as a provocative defiance against contemporary culture. And then came “Saturday Night Live”, which, in its signature style, caricatured our “rebellious” ways. They painted us as eerie, monastic figures—sinister and haunting, like dark monks emerging from the shadows, challenging the very fabric of mainstream society.
Amidst this media frenzy, we found ourselves not just representing a genre of music, but an entire subculture branded as the ultimate symbol of rebellion. It was a challenging mantle to bear, but it was also a testament to the waves we were making and the boundaries we were pushing.
Through it all, the memory of that November night kept us grounded. For me, it was a reminder of why I started this journey in the first place. The beauty, the power, and the unity I felt that night were things I wanted to share with the world.
The Gregorian chant movement dimmed with time, but it never faded. New York City, the heart of this shift, holds memories of that night and the pioneers it spurred. Even as the mainstream wave receded, an underground scene emerged. Hardcore enthusiasts continue to compose and sing chants with fervor.
Every chant I hear is a time portal, pulling me back to the Gothic Hall, surrounded by fellow renegades, all driven by a mission to reshape the world, one chant at a time.
@atomicpoet I remember hearing #chants incorporated into pop music in the ‘90s. #Tibetan as well as #Gregorian, and I never thought of it as a concerted effort. Cool to hear that it was.
I was a kid who grew up around Benedictines singing the #hours. So those songs hit deep, no matter how cheesy they sometimes got.
Wildest experience was hearing chants in a stone #gothic cathedral tuned (by design) to that scale. The music became physical, you could cup notes in your hands.
We have been to the Tibetan Refugee Colony many times but only on this trip we realized that there is a quiet back end of the neighbourhood on the Yamuna River.
Taken at the Tibetan Refugee Colony at Majnuka Tila (New Aruna Colony), New Delhi.
Shop door in the Tibetan Refugee Colony at Majnuka Tila (New Aruna Colony) in New Delhi, India. The eight objects on the door covering are the Ashtamangala. These eight sacred objects are sacred to both Buddhism and Hinduism, and are a big motif in Tibetan Buddhist art.
@obu - AMAZING comprehensive FREE online courses on a variety of topics. I'm doing one on the words of the #Buddha and I am loving it. #Education#OnlineLearning
In #Tibetan#Buddhism, special attention has been given to reviving female monasteries, and female monastics in exile have been receiving Geshe status (like a super PhD indicating the highest level of learning) the first time in millennia. This is a project very close to the the Dalai Lama's vision for the future of Tibetan Buddhism.