UNITED NATIONS (AP) -- Inside the U.N. enclave, it's all schedules and protocol, menus and ideals for tomorrow's world. But outside lies today's real world of anger, protests, even death -- six Tibetan activists are declining steadily in an all-or-nothing hunger strike.

In between, a thick blue line of security is working to keep the two worlds apart.

The United Nations' 50th anniversary celebration has attracted scores of world leaders. But it also has drawn a worldful of causes to the U.N. doorstep.

Veluppillai Thangavelu came a long way, from Toronto, and brought 35 bus loads of compatriots with him.

"We knew this would be a perfect opportunity to get our message across to the world community," said the accountant, a Sri Lankan-born Tamil. The message delivered Sunday by hundreds of Tamils, rallying on a plaza across First Avenue from the U.N. complex, was that Sri Lankan President Chandrika Kumaratunga, who addressed the U.N. gathering Sunday morning, is waging "genocidal war" against the rebellious Tamils of northern Sri Lanka.

After a series of sidewalk speeches - unheard by Kumaratunga - the Tamils quietly loaded back onto the buses for the nine-hour journey home.

In the next protesters' "corral," hemmed in by police barriers, supporters of Pakistan's minority Mohajir community - Muslims originally from India - staked out a piece of plaza to denounce Pakistan's Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto for "victimizing" their brothers back home.

And in a blue tent nearby, the half-dozen Tibetans - five men and a woman - lay beneath woolen blankets, still and pallid, in the eighth day of a hunger strike "to the death" to demand U.N. help in the Tibetan independence struggle against China. A doctor checking them daily finds them in increasingly poor condition, organizers said. Hunger striker Tenzin Thenjsong, 23, of Madison, Wis., whispered his wish to a reporter: "If the U.N. really respects human rights and freedom, it will help us."

The Tibetans' protest was the most dramatic, but the biggest demonstrations are being mounted by Cuban emigrants demanding an end to Fidel Castro's rule. Hundreds of them marched downtown and uptown Sunday, rallying outside the Cuban U.N. mission, where the Cuban president is residing during the anniversary events, and later outside Harlem's Abyssinian Baptist Church, where Castro spoke Sunday evening. Ranks of city policemen marched with them, keeping a close eye on the often-militant anti-Castro movement.

A mile-square area of the East Side, where Manhattan's poshest hotels house dozens of presidents and premiers, is smothered in a blue security blanket.

Parked automobiles were towed away from side streets Sunday by authorities who evidently feared car bombs. Huge dump trucks were angled into place to block some intersections - and potential suicide drivers. In the East River, outside the United Nations' back door, big Coast Guard boats and tiny police cruisers were on patrol. Thousands of police and federal agents are deployed in a security operation. The cost is yet to be estimated. "Four-and-a-half hours. That's $200 for me," one police officer boasted to a comrade.

The clock was running on overtime inside the building, too - where speeches often spilled over their allotted time.

By day's end, the government chiefs' individual "five-minute" addresses ran over by a cumulative two hours. Organizers said they hoped to do better today, the second day of the three-day celebration. With such a high-powered array of big brass on hand, insiders had to focus not on the problems of the world, but on perks, protocol and the pride of potentates.

When 190 kings, presidents and other dignitaries were herded into a council room for a historic group photo Sunday morning, the chief photographer's easy American informality clearly offended some.

As he and his helpers bossed their subjects to move "this way" and "that way," Morocco's King Hassan turned abruptly to the side, clearly annoyed. Someone immediately shouted, "The third one there has to get in place."

Finally satisfied, the photographer called on the dignitaries to "look this way," and then popped his surprise - a giant "smiley-face" unfurled beneath his camera. It worked. They smiled. And the world moved on.