The Sunday Times January 05 1997

The Dalai Lama talked to Vanya Kewley

Tibet's spiritual leader reflects on what free time meant in his youth Tenzin Gyatso, 61, his holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet, was born in Taktser, northeastern Tibet, and enthroned in Lhasa in 1940. Forced into exile in India in 1959, he now lives in Dharamsala and campaigns tirelessly for Tibet 's independence from China.

He has written many books on Buddhism, philosophy, human nature and universal responsibility. In 1989 he won the Nobel Prize for Peace

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Before the Chinese invaded Tibet in 1950, we associated holidays with Buddhist religious festivals. Buddhism is an integral part of our lives and Tibetans are probably the most religious people on earth. Living on a mountainous plateau - averaging 12,000ft above sea level with extremes of climate - we have a profound love of nature and many of our holidays, such as Chikai Trosang (spring holidays) or Tonkha (harvest festival), celebrated the changing seasons.

For Losar, the Tibetan New Year, the first three days were full of religious ceremonies at which I officiated, but the fourth and fifth days were holidays.

I didn't have a conventional childhood: I spent most of it in intensive study - it takes 15 to 20 years to qualify as a monk-scholar, then even more years of specialised study - so for me, holidays were a time when I wouldn't even touch a page of the scriptures: instead, I used to play with my toys.

Sometimes my brother, Lobsang Samten, and I used to explore some of the 1,000 rooms of the Potala, the Celestial Palace, where I lived in Lhasa. Rising 13 storeys from the living rock, it was started in AD636 by Tibet 's 33rd king, Songtsen Gampo. In 1645 it was enlarged by the great fifth Dalai Lama. It housed the National Assembly (Tibetan parliament), government offices, a school for monk-officials, temples, armoury, storerooms and repositories for priceless scrolls. The central Potala had 35 chapels - mausoleums of previous Dalai Lamas - encrusted in gold and precious stones, some 30ft high. It was a city in itself, and one of the largest buildings on earth. It was a fascinating place to explore and grow up in.

On the occasional full-day holiday from studies, for Zamling Chhisang (religious holiday), I would get out an enormous toy train set with a 15ft diameter track, lay it out in my room and control the trains from a corner.

But it was the summer holiday that I most enjoyed. The whole court - the regent, prime minister, government officials, my tutors and I - went in a traditional colourful procession to the Norbulingka - the Jewel Park - just outside Lhasa at the beginning of April. I was carried in a yellow silk palanquin covered by a ceremonial parasol and curiously peeked out at the Lhasans lining the route in their best clothes. It was so colourful. Tibetans delight in bright colours. All the horses and yaks were caparisoned with bright bunting, and multicoloured prayer flags flew gaily in the wind. Samgbum - auspicious smoke from burning juniper branches - wafted over the procession accompanied by the beating of drums, clash of cymbals and baying of horns, as we celebrated the arrival of spring after the long hard winter.

The Norbulingka was my favourite place. It was originally built by the seventh Dalai Lama as a series of pavilions and chapels, and is set in a beautiful walled garden and surrounded by old willow trees, not far from the Kychu river that runs through the heart of Lhasa.

Although there was always study, I had holidays off and I would busy myself in the garden. After the bleak winter and the treeless Potala, the sudden change - to see trees, the colour of spring in the leaves, delphiniums and other flowers bursting into bud - was really wonderful. The khambhu (apricot) trees were in full blossom, scenting the air, and bees buzzed energetically around. It was sunny and an old Lotus tree planted by the seventh Dalai Lama was in flower - big white blossoms with a delicious scent. The British Resident kindly ordered bulbs from India and Holland and I experimented, planting them, watching their progress in shade or sun. When they flowered, they were a riot of blue, white and pink hyacinths and tulips - which aren't normally found in Tibet .

Like all Tibetans - and Buddhists everywhere - I have a profound respect for nature. Sadly the Chinese do not. They have cut down the thick forests of pine, teak and cedar that carpeted our eastern provinces. The devastating loss of the fragile topsoil has resulted in catastrophic floods, not only in Tibet, but further down in Bangladesh, where our Tsang po river becomes the Bhramaputra. Tragically, the animals that sheltered in the forest - rare gazelles, antelope, brown bears and pandas - have also disappeared.

Tibetans used to take their summer holiday outside their homes, pitching their tents for a month in the water meadows by the river, or picnicking for a few days in the forests. I would often hear their songs as they camped by the river near the Norbulingka. Although I didn't have long summer holidays as you do in the West, during my "holiday" days, I also enjoyed watching popular folk operas such as Norsang, Suk-Kyi Nyima. These convoluted stories of the heroic deeds of ancient kings and the eternal fight between good and evil went on for five days at a time and were performed inside the walls of the Norbulingka and also watched by crowds of Tibetans from all over the country.

In exile, I don't take holidays in the conventional western sense. With refugees flooding out of Tibet bearing witness to torture and increasing repression by the Chinese, I have to travel extensively to keep the cause of Tibet alive and speak out against the genocide of Tibetan people and the violation of their human rights. I always counsel Ahimsa - nonviolence - and remember that when in the seventh century Songsten Gampo pronounced Buddhism as the state religion, he also declared Tibet to be the world's first Shidaetene - a zone of peace.

It is a heavy burden. So sometimes I take a "holiday", if you like, and go on spiritual retreat. Meanwhile, the Chinese have started a new cultural revolution in Tibet - a three-year programme, conducting draconian "re-education" of the monks to eradicate religion, and there's a huge escalation in arrests, imprisonment and torture. So even retreats are restricted now, as time is running out for Tibet.