My name is Khan, my name is Rita, my name is Tenzin

I sit on my balcony looking out over the town with my brother and sister with a soap opera in the background, as I realize how content I am with my day, which consisted of teaching, reading, writing, studying, eating at a restaurant, going to class, and watching a movie at a cinema. Sounds like a fairly typical day. But when the finer details are filled in, a much different picture comes into view.

I sit on a tiled balcony looking out over the town (that we share with our neighbors, which overlooks the mountains of McLeod Ganj and the Kangra Valley) with my Tibetan brother and sister with a Chinese soap opera dubbed in Tibetan in the background, as I realize how content I am with my day, which consisted of teaching English to my Tibetan brother and sister, reading, writing, studying, eating at a Tibetan restaurant playing American pop music, going to a Hindi language class taught by a native speaker, and watching a Hindi movie (about a Hindu woman who marries a Muslim man and the problems they have in post 9/11 America) at a homemade cinema which consisted of about 20 elevated chairs and a projector on a wall. Maybe this sounds a little less typical, but it really isn’t that uncommon to have such a day in my current place of residence, McLeod Ganj, India.

The US has been called a multicultural melting pot. I would not disagree and I’m very proud to come from that multicultural melting pot. But McLeod Ganj is also a multicultural melting pot, though one that is so different than what most people think of as a “melting pot.” I wish I could describe just how multicultural this place is. But no matter how hard I tried, I know I could never do the description justice.

By first glance, you’ll notice there are three “major groups” of people- Indian, Tibetan, and Western. But upon further investigation you find out that these are not the only “groups” that live in this community. You find native Indians and displaced Indians (many coming from other regions of India where droughts and famines have hit the people hard); you’ll also find 2nd generation Indian-born Tibetans and Tibetans freshly arrived from the Himalayas just mere weeks ago; throw some western tourists, backpackers, yoga instructors, Buddhist practitioners, and yes, even a few students, and you may be able to have a small vision of what McLeod looks like. While walking down one of the roads you could hear a Bob Marley song coming from one of the restaurants, walk a bit further ahead and hear a Bollywood soundtrack, to which a young Indian and/or Tibetan may be singing along to; and walk just a bit further and you may hear the monks performing a pooja ceremony down at the temple, or an elderly Tibetan chanting “Om Mani Padme Hum.” You can see the prayer beads of a praying Buddhist, the cap of a devout Muslim, the bindi on the forehead of a devote Hindu, or the cross of a Christian, all within minutes of each other.

The world has often looked to the US to see a multicultural society in action. But after seeing Tibetan and Indian children playing on the road together, after hearing Hindi, Tibetan, and English all being used for one market transaction, after hearing Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, and Christian prayers all come from the same small area, I can’t help but wonder if there are other places to look to understand multicultural societies.